Sure Fire (18 page)

Vishinsky took out his mobile phone and flipped it open. “Mr Stabb, start the process.”

Another explosion – right outside.

Stabb pressed a button on the main console and a monitor screen above displayed a large 20.

Twenty minutes maybe? But Rich's hopes were dashed as the 20 became 19. Then 18…

“What's the telephone number?” Vishinsky demanded.

17

Jade shook her head. “Don't tell him, Rich.”

16

“Tell me, or Mr Stabb will shoot your sister in the leg,” Vishinsky said.

15

“Tell me, and it will be quick for her at least,” he added.

14

“I promise.”

13

“Rich, please…” Jade said. “Don't…”

12

Rich squeezed her hand.

11

And told Vishinsky the phone number.

10

Vishinsky punched it into his mobile.

9

Outside the gunfire was closer still. Someone screamed.

8

Vishinsky put the phone to his ear.

7

He was smiling.

6

“Mr Stabb,” Vishinsky said. “I'll tell you when.” He gestured at Rich and Jade standing in front of him.

5

Rich could hear the phone connect – even above the gunfire, he could hear the rhythmic sound of the ring tone.

4

Stabb's gun was pointed straight at Rich as the countdown reached:

3.

“No answer,” Vishinsky said. “Not yet.”

“He won't ever answer,” Jade said.

The countdown was on 2.

“She's right,” Rich said calmly.

1.

“You see, that wasn't Dad's phone number.”

Stabb's cry of alarm drew Vishinsky's attention back to the monitors. It was not clear if the man even heard what Rich was saying.

“It's the number of a phone I was given,” Rich was saying. “Dad and I left it in your pumping station, attached to an explosive that can detect the slightest movement. Set to vibrate.”

On the monitor an inferno raged through the
KOS pumping station. A silent ball of flame engulfed the central buildings. The screens went dead.

Vishinsky and Stabb ran to the window. In the distance, the sky glowed an unnatural orange as oil storage tanks exploded one after another in a chain of fire about the pumping station.

“By calling that number,” Rich said, “you set the bomb off.”

“The pipelines are shutting down,” Stabb shouted above the noise and confusion. He looked at Vishinsky. “The safety measures are engaging. There's no way your oil can get through now – even if any of it escaped that blast.”

The noise was getting louder. A steady thwock-thwock of sound from outside, like a swarm of giant insects attacking. Stabb was frantically changing views on the monitors. Most of them were full of smoke and fire. Finally, he found a clearer view across the top of the fortress. He glanced at it and swore. He looked at Rich, turned and ran.

“Stabb!” Vishinsky shouted after him. “Stabb – where are you going?”

Vishinsky ran to the monitor. The image on the screen zoomed in on dark shapes in the distance – helicopters.

“Expecting guests?” Rich asked Vishinsky.

The man did not reply. He reached into his jacket and started to pull out a pistol, but before he managed it, Jade kicked out, catching him in the stomach. He doubled up in pain and Rich punched him in the face. The pistol went flying, well out of reach.

“Come on,” Rich said. He grabbed Jade's hand and they turned towards the doors. Before they got there, Vishinsky barrelled into them, knocking them both off their feet. With a roar, he swept up a gun from the ground close by and brought it round. He stood between the children and the doors now. He took aim with the machine pistol.

“You may have delayed my plans,” he snarled, “but now you're going to pay for it.” His finger tightened on the trigger.

He barely had time to register what hit him. A solid mass of ex-SAS soldier smashed into Vishinsky from behind, sending him staggering and skidding forwards.

“Cavalry's arriving,” Chance announced.

Jade and Rich dived to the ground as Vishinsky fired. The shots rattled over their heads. Jade leaped
back up and jumped at Vishinsky. She connected with both feet together – slamming into him and sending him flying. As Vishinsky staggered backwards, Rich grabbed his leg and yanked it hard.

Vishinsky stumbled, gun still firing. The bullets hammered into the monitor screens and control desk. Screens exploded and cables hissed and spat. Vishinsky fell on to the console with a cry.

The gun fell to the ground and Vishinsky's back arced as the live cables severed by his shots connected. His whole body was bathed in a pale blue light for a moment. Then he collapsed back into an explosion of sparks and flame and was still.

“All good things come to an end,” Chance said. “And bad ones too, it seems.”

They ran to the window to see three black helicopters hovering over the fortress courtyard. Dark-clad figures were dropping rapidly on ropes to the ground. The air was split with the renewed sound of gunfire.

As Rich, Jade and Chance stepped from the main control room out into the antechamber beyond, the doors behind them were pushed shut.

“Hold it there,” Stabb said. “Turn around, slowly.”

Chance sighed. “Ready?” he breathed.

Rich and Jade both nodded.

Then they turned, slowly, to face Stabb. He was standing a few metres away from them, a handgun aimed at Chance. “You're going to get me out of here,” he said.

“No,” Chance told him. “We're leaving now.” He turned slowly away again.

Eyes wide, Stabb stepped forward, thrusting the gun into Chance's back. “Look at me!” he yelled.

But his attention was all on Chance. He didn't see Jade's foot swinging up at the gun. Didn't notice Rich's punch coming at him.

Both connected. The gun clattered across the floor. Stabb gave a cry of surprise, which became a grunt of pain as Rich's fist slammed into his stomach. He doubled over – right into the upper-cut punch Chance delivered to the man's chin as he turned back. Stabb collapsed backwards, hitting the stone floor hard. A low moan escaped from his lips and he was still.

The sound of the shooting and explosions from
outside was almost gone now. It was replaced by the sound of someone chuckling.

It was Ardman. He had one arm in a sling, and a large plaster across one side of his forehead. Beyond him, Rich and Jade could see figures in dark camouflage moving quickly through the ruins of the fortress, rounding up Vishinsky's surviving guards.

“I was hoping to be of some assistance,” Ardman said. “But you seem to have everything pretty much under control. And my people tell me you've not left them very much to do out there.” He nodded in the direction of the castle courtyard.

“Well, if you will insist on arriving just
after
the nick of time,” Chance told him, grinning.

“Anything for an old friend. Oh – and Mr Halford sends his regards. I've sent some people to collect him and take him home. It seems he forgot to bring his passport and there might be some formalities that need attending to.”

“All well within your capabilities, I'm sure,” Chance said. “Can I assume you three know each other?”

“We've met,” Jade said as Ardman led them out of the keep and across to where a helicopter was
standing on one of the few level areas left inside the fortress walls.

“We had tea together at the Clarendorf,” Rich said.

“It got a bit busy, so we didn't have time to leave a tip,” Jade said.

“I expect Ardman did,” Chance said. “Whatever the circumstances.”

Ardman stood by the helicopter. He looked at the three of them with amusement.

“So,” Ardman said, “apart from arranging for some suitable education, a spot of well-deserved leave and a safe journey home, is there anything else I can get you?”

Chance looked at Jade and Rich. Rich and Jade looked at their dad.

John Chance grinned, and pulled Rich and Jade into a hug beside the waiting helicopter.

“No thanks,” Chance told Ardman as he held his children tight. “I've got everything I need.”

Jack Higgins
lived in Belfast till the age of twelve. Leaving school at fifteen, he spent three years with the Royal Horse Guards, serving on the East German border during the Cold War. His subsequent employment included occupations as diverse as circus roustabout, truck driver, clerk, teacher and university lecturer.
The Eagle has
Landed
turned him into an international bestselling author, and his novels have since sold over 250 million copies and been translated into fifty-five languages.

Justin Richards
is the author of dozens of books, including many
Doctor Who
novels,
The Death Collector
and his
Invisible
Detective
series. He worked in the computer industry before moving into full-time writing and editing, and has also written for the stage and the screen.

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