The Stealers (18 page)

Crane shook his head, ‘I don't think so – past experience and all that – I think it best you accompany me on a drive to Mullah's chateau and, when we arrive, you can drop me off outside and then you can drive yourself back in the Merc, I already have another car parked there.'

Durand pressed his lips together and nodded fervently in agreement, ‘Okay,' and they both left the office and headed for the car parking lot.

*

Earlier in the morning the van, holding Girard, Penny and the children, had come to a halt just inside the estate of Chateau du Lac. The driver of the van leapt out, walked up to the car behind and settled in the front passenger seat beside his accomplice and said, ‘It's best we wait until daybreak before rattling on Mullah's front door.'

The car driver grunted an affirmative through a yawn, reclined his seat, then closed his eyes and said wearily, ‘Do you think they are comfortable in that van?'

‘Who gives a shit? I haven't heard a peep out of them, they are probably fast asleep right now.' With that he yawned hugely, reclined his seat and shut his eyes.

A full moon appeared from behind heavy clouds, sending a stream of the silvery light through a small glass panel in the roof of the van. The diffused light caused Girard to open his eyes. He looked up into Penny's face. Her chin lay wearily on her chest. She had her back propped awkwardly against a long bench seat. The moon's light gave her face a monochrome appearance. ‘Are you asleep?' he whispered.

Penny jerked her head up and said wearily, ‘I wish, more like a semi-coma, how are you feeling now?'

‘Apart from a sore head and stiff limbs, I feel okay.'

She shifted her legs uncomfortably, ‘Do you feel like sitting up now?'

A smile spread across Girard's face as he said, ‘With your permission,
mademoiselle
, I would much sooner stay where I am. Your lap, it is so comfortable, I thought I was in heaven just now. It gives me a sensation as though I could rest on it forever. Despite my aching head, it senses the softness of your lovely skin but,' he hastened to add, ‘I do not want to wear out my welcome, and thank you for caring for me.'

Penny returned Girard's smile and said, ‘Only a Frenchman could think up so much bullshit in such a short space of time.'

Girard's smile turned into a grin, ‘The ladies – they like to hear these nice things about themselves.'

‘We haven't been properly introduced; my name's Penny.'

‘My name is Henri Girard – and I am at your service.'

‘That's an old-fashioned term, I like it.' Penny said warmly.

They both moved onto a seat next to each other. Girard checked his watch; it was five-thirty.

‘Why have we stopped?' he said quietly.

‘I don't know. The van stopped a few times since we left that place and one of them opened the rear doors and looked in, you were still unconscious. I must have drifted in and out of sleep several times. Just now, I heard the cab door open and close, together with some footsteps.

In the vague light, they looked at the children; they were fast asleep, sagging forwards against their seatbelts.

Girard moved quietly to the rear of the van and peered though a tiny gap in the darkened glass. ‘We are in a narrow lane; it looks familiar, it could even be the one that leads to Mullah's Chateau du Lac. Their car is a few metres behind us,' he whispered, ‘maybe they are resting.'

Gingerly he raised his hand and tried the door handle; it was locked tight. ‘Once they get me into the chateau, I'm dead. They won't harm you and the children.'

Penny looked at Girard and knew he was right. Girard continued, ‘When they unlock the door again, I'm going to make a break for it. They won't be expecting it – it's the only chance I'll have and if successful, I'll see what I can do to get you and the kids away.'

A worried look spread across Penny's face, ‘You must be very careful. When the driver opens the door, he holds a gun, at the ready, in his left hand.'

Girard grinned at her concern, ‘I am used to taking risks; I was a Legionnaire. It's a matter of do or die.'

Penny sighed, ‘It sounds all very romantic but… '

Girard cut in warmly, smiled and said softly, ‘You are so attractive when you look at me like that. I see romance as something different; love, kisses and passion. I cannot stay here until they execute me. I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't – I must try to escape.'

Bradley contacted Ryan and said, ‘I had a call from Mac; it seems they still have aggravation with Jack Crane. I want you to pay a visit to his place in Canford and find out if that woman is still staying there, but do it
without
being seen and report back. Got it?'

‘Yeah sure thing, Bradley, I'll leave in five minutes. I'll park at the end of the lane and walk down to his place from there.'

The roads were clear and it took no more than fifteen minutes for Ryan to park at the end of Palmers Rise. Keeping to the edge of the lane, he tramped at a steady pace but slowed down as he neared the cottage. The Peugeot 207 hire car, was still parked in the drive. Ryan snatched the phone out of his pocket and called Bradley. ‘I'm outside the cottage now; the woman's car is still here,' he said quietly.

‘Okay, Ryan, that's all I need to know.'

‘Any news of my money?' Ryan enquired anxiously.

‘I'll sort that out sometime this week.'

At that moment, Daniella was tidying the front bedroom, when by chance she glimpsed through the net curtains and caught sight of Ryan. His flabby frame was tucked into a hedge, but she recognised him straight away, only this time he appeared to be without his car and he had a mobile phone pressed against his ear. Intrigued, she noted he was talking in a low voice and his eyes were continually flashing across towards the cottage. Alarm bells began to ring and she dashed into the kitchen, picked up the phone and dialled Crane's mobile number but there was no reply and so she left a message together with a description of the man outside.

Daniella quietly opened the back door and walked across the rear patio and into the adjacent woods. From there she followed a path that Crane had shown her some time ago, which led almost to the end of Palmers Rise. She ran light-footed along the trail and stopped just before the end, then waited. Totally unobserved she stood and watched as Ryan sauntered towards his parked car, climbed in and drove off. Daniella was now confident that something was not right and she ran back to the cottage and packed her bag. She had decided it would be best to leave and wait until she heard from Crane.

After locking up and returning the key to Crane's hiding place, she threw the bag into the boot of her car and jumped into the driver's seat. The engine sprang to life, she slammed the gear lever into reverse and looked into the rear-view mirror just in time to see a dark coloured BMW straddle across the drive, blocking her exit.

*

Dawn was breaking over the Chateau Du Lac, giving it an even more sinister appearance. A short distance away, Girard, still crammed in the back of the van, heard a noise from the car behind; it was a door snapping shut. He held a cautionary hand up to silence Penny and listened. They heard the sound of footsteps, casually moving towards the rear of the van. A key scraped clumsily against the rear door until it found its way into the lock. Girard's eyes were riveted on to the movement of the door handle. As it completed its turn, he braced himself and thrust both feet hard against the rear doors, flinging them wide open and sending the van driver toppling with arms flailing backwards onto the ground, unfortunately the fall did not dislodge the handgun that stayed gripped firmly in his left hand.

The man sitting behind the wheel of the car saw everything and was swift to react. He grabbed hold of a silenced Glock off the back seat with one hand and snatched at the door handle with the other. Girard did not hang around; he crashed through an adjacent hedge like a rampaging bull and ran across the open field in front of him and towards a thicket some hundred metres away. It was a wide stretch of land, sparsely vegetated. Patches of ground mist eddied over the field and spiralled skywards. His pursuers were quick to follow, but they found it difficult to take aim at their quarry, because he ran low, zig-zagging continuously as he headed towards the copse. The gunman with the silenced Glock stopped and steadied his weapon with both hand then squeezed the trigger several times at the receding figure. A nine-mil bullet struck Girard just as he leapt into the safety of the woods.

A triumphant shout of, ‘Got him,' resonated between the attackers as they saw Girard recoil sideways and fall to the ground. He lowered the Glock and said to his companion, ‘I'll make sure he's finished, you had better take the van to the chateau. I'll catch up with you shortly.'

The van driver hurried back and, after a cursory glance inside, turned the key on the rear doors and continued the short journey to Mullah's chateau.

*

Crane was sitting in the passenger seat, next to the pilot Durand, who was driving the Merc SL towards Chateau du Lac. It was not long before they entered the long tree-lined lane that led to the front entrance. After they had driven a kilometre along the drive Crane said, ‘Right, you can drop me off here.'

Durand stopped the car and, before getting out, Crane retrieved the pair of Uzis that were lying on the back seat. As a parting shot, Crane said harshly, ‘It's up to you what you do with the car; the previous owner no longer has a use for it. Oh, and if I find out that you have contacted Mullah… well, I'll leave that to your imagination.'

Fear spread across Durand's face as he replied, ‘I meant what I said earlier; I'm finished with Mullah.'

Crane stood and watched as Durand turned the car and drove off in the opposite direction. He guessed it was now about a one-kilometre hike to the chateau and, keeping close to the edge of the lane, he jogged along at a steady pace.

After a while, giant poplars on either side of the lane gave way to an unruly hawthorn hedgerow. Crane paused as he rounded a bend and sighted a parked car. His left hand shot up, tugging expertly on the lanyard of one of the Uzis and it slid off his shoulder. When he neared the vehicle, it became apparent that it was the phoney police car. He approached it with caution and looked inside; it was empty, with the keys still positioned in the ignition. Looking around he noticed a freshly-made gap in the hedge and keeping low he peered through the opening. Three sets of newly-made footprints trailed across the dewy meadow towards a wooded area.

Crane made a split second decision – he was curious. With eyes focused on the ground, and keeping low, he followed the tracks across the field and paused halfway. There were now only two sets of footprints; one set had veered off returning to the lane. With gun at the ready, safety catch off, Crane moved stealthily towards the copse. Reaching a sturdy elm at the edge, he stopped, as a sudden breeze rattled through the trees sending clusters of leaves spiralling towards the ground.

During the brief lull that followed, he heard a noise. It was a deep groan. Inching forward towards the sound, he almost tripped over the body of a man lying face down on the ground who was wearing nothing but his underwear. His trousers had been utilised; ripped apart and used to bind his arms and legs. Crane bent down and carefully turned the man over and recognised him as one of the phoney policemen; a trickle of blood was beginning to clot on the side of his head. The snapping of loose bracken made Crane drop down into a crouch. His fingers began to tighten around the trigger of the Uzi, when a shape appeared through the shadowy light. As the figure lumbered nearer, he relaxed when he saw the familiar bulk, ‘Girard; what kept you?'

*

While still parked on the cottage drive, Daniella kept her eyes on the rear-view mirror. With some trepidation, she watched as the dark-suited man got out of his car. Her hand groped at the central locking button as Bradley nudged the door shut of the BMW and casually sauntered up to confront her.

‘Would you mind moving your car, I'm just about to leave; I have an appointment.'

Bradley smiled casually and said, ‘So have I. Get out of the car.'

‘I can't be late,' Daniella said weakly.

Bradley produced a nine-mil Walther semi-automatic, pulled back the slide, pointed it at the side window and said coldly, ‘You don't have to get hurt but I'll pull the trigger right now if I have to. Now get out!'

Bradley stepped back as Daniella got out. She looked at him defiantly and said, ‘What do you want with me?'

Bradley sneered, ‘Not you, my dear, you're just an innocent pawn. It's Jack Crane I want. Now let's go inside the cottage, shall we?'

*

A huge grin spread across Girard's face and he said, ‘I managed to escape,' and, nodding towards the prone figure on the ground, he added, ‘two of them chased me. A bullet caught my arm and I went down. One of them, the van driver I believe, returned to his vehicle but this one came to see his handiwork, and that is when I had him. He was going to kill me. I do not know why I have let him live. I needed a piece of his shirt for my wound and well… as you can see, I had to secure him, so the trousers came in handy. I made use of his jacket too; I don't like holes in clothes. We must now rescue the lady, Penny,' he paused and added, ‘I believe she likes me and the feeling is mutual.'

Crane couldn't suppress a grin and Girard continued, ‘I promised her I would come back, any way I could, to get her and the children.'

‘How long ago did all this happen?'

‘No more than twenty minutes perhaps.'

‘Okay, there's a car with the keys in the ignition where this guy left it. It will make it easy to approach.'

They left their assailant groaning miserably and made their way back across the field and got into the car. Girard ducked low in the seat as the vehicle pulled up outside the front entrance of the chateau. The van Girard had escaped from, was parked over to one side, adjacent to Mullah's Bentley. Crane stooped down over his steering wheel and Girard kept out of sight, laying down low in the rear seat in the hope that the front door would swing open. They did not have to wait long. Mac, the manservant, bounced out leaving the door ajar and he walked towards the car. ‘You alright mate,' he called out as he approached.

Crane straightened up and pointed the Uzi at Mac's chest and said, ‘Yes, we're fine thanks. Don't move, I've just found out that this thing has a hair trigger.'

The colour drained from Mac's face as he stammered, ‘Alright, alright, take it easy.'

Girard wound down the rear window and kept Mac covered as Crane got out of the car and the three men walked towards the house.

As the three of them entered the large hall, Louise came scurrying out of the kitchen. When she saw them, she spun round immediately but Girard barked, ‘Take one more step and it will be your last.'

As she froze, Crane walked up to her and said, ‘Where's Penny and the children?'

She looked at Crane nervously and replied, ‘Upstairs, they are all upstairs.'

‘And Mullah, where is he?'

‘He is in his room upstairs. I was just about to take breakfast up to him.'

Crane ushered both captives to a seat and while Girard covered them, he walked into the kitchen and came out with Mullah's breakfast tray, setting it down between himself and Girard. In between mouthfuls, Crane asked the captives, ‘Who else is here?'

Mac and Louise looked at each other. ‘Well?' Crane said impatiently.

Mac said, ‘Just Albert, the van driver; he told us he was tired and he's in one of the spare rooms upstairs.'

At that moment Girard detected a slight movement out of the corner of his eye. A shot rang out – sending a bullet smashing into the panelled wall behind. It was followed by excited shouting in French and English. Without taking his eyes off the man on the staircase, Girard knew he had no choice and carefully laid his weapon down. Crane followed suit.

The colour returned to Mac's face, ‘So good of you to join us, Albert, we were just talking about you,' he said smugly as he looked at the dejected pair. Mac crouched down and scooped up their weapons and placed them on a chair. The gunshot brought Mullah limping out of his room and he stood watching on the landing. Albert moved slowly, cat-like, down the stairs holding a Glock nine mil, ‘Where's Andre?' he spat.

‘Who's Andre?' Girard answered innocently.

‘Don't fuck with me; the car driver who thought he had put a bullet in you.'

‘Oh, him. I left him in the woods.'

‘You killed him?' Albert snarled.

‘No,' Girard answered casually, ‘he's okay. He's just resting.'

Albert's attention had been focused on Girard and it was now Crane's turn to act. He whipped the Glock from behind his waistband and, in rapid succession, sent several bullets into the stair where Albert was standing. A shocked Albert tossed his gun to one side – like it was red hot – and threw up his hands. Mac eyed the Uzis laid out on the chair, but realised it would be suicide to attempt to reach out to try to get one of them. Girard took the initiative and strode purposefully over to recover them.

The raucous sound of gunfire was momentarily replaced by a deafening silence which was only broken when the sound of the phone resounded noisily throughout the hall. Mac looked at Crane for approval to answer it. Crane nodded and said, ‘Put the speaker on.' Mac picked it up and flicked the amplifier switch. A menacing metallic voice reverberated around the room, ‘Hello, Mac, is Jack Crane with you yet?'

Mac uttered a limp, ‘Yeah.' He looked at Crane and put the phone down and backed away from it, saying hoarsely, ‘It's for you.'

A puzzled expression spread across Crane's face as he walked towards the instrument, picked it up, turned off the speaker and held the phone to his ear, ‘Who is it?'

A loud chuckle resonated through the earpiece, before the voice said, ‘It's me, Bradley. I heard your French friend has been put out of action for good – serves him right!' Crane smiled inwardly at this suggestion. ‘Now down to business; I'm with someone who knows you.'

As Crane began, ‘Who the… ' Bradley, at the other end, shoved the phone in front of Daniella; who was staring anxiously at the barrel of a gun.