Sharp Shot (7 page)

Jade was racing down the slope now. She almost twisted her ankle as
it caught on one of the rails. She could hear the rumble of the carriage
close behind her. McCain was a silhouette sprinting ahead, but any moment,
the carriage would roll into both of them.

Then finally, they emerged from the tunnel. McCain leaped to one
side, Jade dived to the other, and the carriage shot past them. It started
to slow immediately, the rails rising uphill again to take the carriages
through the next part of the haunted house tour.

The mad scientist's laboratory.

It looked like the converted dungeons of a medieval castle. The
place was lit up brightly by another flash of lightning. A wooden
workbench was covered with glassware—test tubes and flasks, bubbling
liquids and a brain in a jar. Huge metal coils ran up into a vaulted stone
roof. Cables and
pipes hung down. A large body lay on an operating
table—mercifully covered by an oil-stained sheet. Thankfully, there
was no sign their pursuer. McCain picked himself up and grinned at Jade as
she too got to her feet. But then she saw his grin fade
as he stared over her shoulder.

Jade whirled round.

A figure stepped
from the shadowy alcove behind
her and a tall man dressed in a dark suit reached out for Jade. He was
just inches away from her, and there was no way she could escape. His lips
parted in a horrible smile.

Though he tried not to show it, Rich was impressed. An area of the car
park had been cordoned off, and a black helicopter stood in the middle of
it. The side door was open and the pilot sat there, his legs dangling over
the side. It was a big helicopter—bigger than the one McCain had driven
into, and large enough to carry half a dozen people easily.

“Come on, son,” said the man in the suit and dark
glasses. He nudged Rich forward, though he sounded and seemed deferential.

But then, Rich reminded himself, the man had a gun, so he could
afford to be. “My name is Rich,” he told the man—it was
about as much defiance as he could muster. His heart was still pounding
and his legs
were still weak from the chase over the rollercoaster.

“Sure thing, Rich,” the man drawled in his American
accent as they approached the helicopter. “And my name's
Chuck.”

“Good American name.”

A smile appeared beneath the dark glasses. “Short for Charles.
That's a good British name.”

Several people had gathered round the edge of the taped off area,
watching with interest. They probably thought it was some sort of display
or exhibit. Rich wondered if he could shout to them for help, tell them
that he was being taken away against his will and his sister was in
trouble too. But he didn't want to involve anyone else. Who knew how
desperate these guys were? They had guns, fast cars, helicopters…They
were pretty serious.

Too serious, he suddenly thought, to be chasing someone who just owed
them money or a favour. What was really going on?

Then he reached the helicopter. The pilot eased himself back inside,
so that another man could lean forward from one of the passenger seats.

“Hello, Rich. It's been a while.”

Rich just stared. “You?! What are you doing here?”

The man's teeth were sharp and pointed and stained blood red. His
jacket was pinned to him. His face was a pasty mask. He reached out a
gloved hand, as if in greeting.

“My name,” the man said, his voice accented, scratchy
and echoing, “is Count Dracula. Welcome to my domain.”

Now that Jade looked properly, she saw that he had not stepped out of
the alcove, but slid forward on a little trolley. She could hear the whirr
of the mechanism as his head tilted slightly. It was disconcerting the way
the voice came not from the mannequin, but from a speaker on the floor
close by.

“The children of the night,” the spectral voice added,
“what music they make…”

Then the figure slid slowly back into the shadows. The laboratory
echoed for a moment with his theatrical laughter.

“This place is seriously spooky,” said Jade.

“I think that's kind of the idea,” McCain told her.

“Yeah, right. Whatever. Let's get out of here before that
spooky woman finds us again.”

They followed the railway tracks through the
laboratory. Behind them,
Jade could hear the Dracula mannequin going through its act again. The
tracks led to large wooden double doors that were firmly closed. The
carriages seemed to keep going through even between groups of visitors,
and as one of the little carriages approached, the doors swung open to let
it through. Jade and McCain hurried after the empty carriage before the
doors closed again.

They were in another corridor. The walls looked like rough, flaking
stone. But when Jade touched them she could feel it was just painted
polystyrene. Ahead, she could see another small platform area, like the
one where she had originally boarded a carriage. The illuminated sign
beyond that was a relief—it said: EXIT.

But before they reached the platform and the exit, there was one more
fright.

A skeleton dropped down in front of them. Its jaw dropped open and
more laughter echoed round the corridor. Then, just as suddenly, it was
gone again.

Jade closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

“You can see why there are warnings to people with weak
hearts,” said McCain, more amused than surprised.

“To think people pay for this sort of thing,” said Jade.
She shook her head sadly and hurried towards the exit doors.

The doors opened easily. Outside, a group of people were laughing and
joking—their trip round the haunted house just finished. Jade realised
she and McCain had almost caught up with the group in front of theirs. But
no one spared them more than a glance as they emerged, blinking, into the
sunshine.

Jade looked back at the lop-sided house towering above them.
“Definitely one for Rich,” she murmured. “I wonder
where he is now. I hope he's OK.”

The man in the helicopter gestured for Rich to get in. He was in his
forties, well-built with a rugged face and deep-set eyes. He was someone
that Rich and Jade had come to know very well indeed—a friend and former
colleague of their father's. He was also one of the men in the photograph
that Rich still had in his pocket. It was Dex Halford.

“Forgive me not getting out,” said Halford as Rich sat
on the uncomfortable seat beside him. Halford slapped his leg, which Rich
knew was artificial below the knee. He'd lost his leg in a firefight in
Afghanistan,
and only escaped with his life because John Chance had
carried him for miles.

“What's going on?” demanded Rich. “What are you
doing here? Where's Jade?”

“I was hoping
you'd
know that,” said
Halford. “After I got your call, I rang Ardman. Then I tried to call
you back.”

“No battery,” said Rich. He shook his head, trying to
work it all out. He pointed at Chuck who was standing on guard beside the
helicopter. “But these guys, they're the ones trying to kill
us.”

“Actually, they're the ones trying to save you.”

“I don't get it.”

“They're affiliated with the CIA.”

“You called in the
CIA
?”

“Not exactly. They were here already, hot on the heels of a
rather unpleasant mercenary they've been trying to track down for a
while.”

Rich swallowed, he suddenly felt tired and light-headed. “Ferdy
McCain?”

“No. Ferdy's no mercenary. He retired from the service and went
into business organising adventure holidays. Abseiling, rock climbing,
jungle survival, caving. That sort of thing.” Halford sighed.
“Like I
told you, he was a good bloke, Ferdy.”

“
Was
? What do you mean—what
happened?”

Halford met Rich's puzzled gaze. “When I rang Ardman, to tell
him you were on the run with McCain, he was a bit surprised. And worried.
It takes a lot to worry Ardman.”

Rich nodded. His dad's boss was usually as cool as a cucumber in the
arctic. “I know.”

“He got in touch with these CIA people, and he told me to find
you as soon as possible.”

“But why?”

“Because Ferdy McCain was found shot dead at his home in
Buckinghamshire yesterday afternoon. That's why.”

Rich gaped. “But that's impossible. We've been with him. There
must be some mistake.”

“No mistake. How do you know the man you are with is actually
Ferdy McCain?”

Rich pulled the photograph from his pocket. “He told us. And we
recognised him from this.”

Halford took the photograph. It was creased and bent, and he smoothed
it out on his good knee. “God, those were the days,” he said
quietly. “Not sure it was fun exactly, but it had its moments.
Iraq…” He shook his head. “What a mess.”

“So there has to be a mistake,” said Rich, pointing to
the figure beside Halford in the photograph. “Because that's
definitely the man we were with. OK, it's an old photo, but you can tell
it's him.”

Halford nodded slowly, his expression grave. “Then we are in
serious trouble. Because
this
is Ferdy McCain.” He
pointed to the other man, the shorter man with a dark moustache beside
Rich's dad. “That man,” he went on, pointing to the figure
that Rich still had his finger over, “is Mark Darrow. One of the
nastiest pieces of work I've ever met, and as you know, I've met a few.
He's a ruthless mercenary and a hired killer.”

Rich could feel the blood draining from his face. “And Jade's
with him.”

“It's the last place they'll look for us,” ‘Ferdy McCain'
told Jade. “Trust me.”

He was busy filling in the adventure park hotel's registration form.
“My daughter's birthday,” he told the smiling receptionist.
“She's fourteen.”

Jade turned away. “Do me a favour.”

“Kidding,” McCain admitted. “Do you have two rooms
with a connecting door?”

“Only in the Space Zone,” said the receptionist, her
smile still fixed perfectly in position. “Is your daughter
interested in space?”

“As much of it as I can get,” said Jade. “If my
brother comes looking for us, let me know at once, will you,
please?”

The receptionist frowned. “Your brother?”

“He said he might join us. He wasn't sure,” explained
McCain. He smiled at the receptionist. “You know what teenagers are
like.”

“His name is Rich,” said Jade. “Short for
Richard.”

“I'll be certain to let you know,” said the
receptionist. “Richard Smith. Sure thing. Enjoy your stay.”

Halford was getting impatient, and so was Rich.

“Anything from
Hunter?” Halford demanded.

“No, sir,” replied Chuck,
without moving from his
position outside the helicopter. “She's not answering. Either
she's in a blind spot or her radio's packed up.”

“Typical.” Halford eased himself past Rich and climbed down
on to the tarmac.

Rich followed. There were even more people round the helicopter now.
Someone raised a camera and Halford grimaced.

“Ardman will do his nut. So much for low profile.”

“Pretend we're part of the show,” said Rich.

“Circus, more like.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” said Chuck. “One of the
guys got you a present.” He handed Rich a small clear bag. Inside
was what looked like a novelty keyring with a large plastic fob attached.
Sealed inside the plastic was a picture.

“Souvenir of a great day out,” said Chuck.

The picture had been taken on the rollercoaster. Rich remembered the
flash of the camera. It showed Rich tumbling over the back of the
carriage, legs in the air and a mixture of fear and surprise across his
face.

“Thanks,” said Rich. “Don't think it's one I'll be
showing Dad. Or Jade.”

“Here's Hunter, now, sir,” said Chuck, moving quickly to
the cordon round the helicopter. He lifted the tape for a woman to duck
underneath.

Rich recognised her as the woman who had shot at their car tyres from
the other helicopter. Just trying to stop them, Halford had told him. He
didn't know who the people who'd originally been chasing McCain—or
rather Darrow—were. The CIA unit had picked them up that morning from
the air and the other cars after them.

“Did you find her?” Halford asked the woman.

She shook her head, and Rich saw an angry bruise developing on the
side of her head as her hair moved.

“Sorry, sir.” She was American too. “I lost her in
the haunted house. Darrow got the drop on me.”

“You saw Jade?” said Rich. “Is she all
right?”

“So far,” the woman—Hunter—said. “I was trying
to warn her, show her my ID. I told her she was in trouble, then Darrow
jumped me. My radio got smashed when I fell against a gravestone.”
She held her hand up and sighed. “Don't ask.”

“So we have no idea where Jade is,” said Rich.
“And no way of contacting her.”

The woman met Rich's gaze. “Sorry. Maybe she understood my
warning.”

“What about Darrow?” asked Chuck. His voice was tense
and abrupt. “You know our orders, Kate.”

“Too many people. I couldn't get a clear shot without the risk
of hitting someone else. Maybe even the girl.”

“A clear shot?” Rich was appalled. “Who
are
you people? What's this Darrow done that you have
orders to shoot him?”

Kate Hunter turned back to Rich. “Believe me, you don't want to
know what he's done.”

“And now he's escaped,” said Halford. “And he's
got Jade with him. I'm sorry, Rich, but whether she knows it or not, Jade
is a hostage.”