by SL Beaumont
Chapter 31
“What the hell is Sam doing here?” James said. “He works for Steph’s dad.”
Two men remained just inside the front door talking quietly. They carried themselves with the alert wariness of bodyguards.
James and Andy silently edged back along the passage to James’s bedroom and quietly closed the door. James called DI Marks to relay the information on their visitors. He put his phone on speaker so that Max could hear. There was a brief moment of silence when James said that one of the guys meeting with his brother was Sam Jones.
“Are you sure, James?” Max asked.
“Positive,” James replied. “Is there any news on Steph?”
“No. We’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Stop them if they try to leave,” DI Marks instructed.
“Okay.”
James had just clicked his phone off when it chimed signalling the arrival of a text message. James opened it. It was from Michael.
I remember. David says your GF smuggled Germans thru wine cellars under your house. S could be there?
He passed the phone to Andy, so he could read the text.
“Where are the wine cellars?” he asked.
“Haven’t a clue – the current ‘wine cellar’,” James said writing air commas, “is off the kitchen in an air conditioned room. I didn’t know there were any others. Although now that you mention it, Stephanie told me that she read that all of these big houses used to have tunnels which led out to the sea, relics from the old smuggling days.”
“Do you know if there are any plans or drawings of the house?” Andy asked thoughtfully.
“Dunno. Let’s check the library,” James replied, leading the way.
The boys left the library door ajar as they searched through a row of cupboards under the bookshelves on one wall.
“Here. What are these?” Andy said, pulling out several rolls of blueprints. They began unrolling them on the desk when they heard voices coming from downstairs.
James went running from the library, leaving Andy poring over the plans.
Sam was standing in the entrance foyer looking up the staircase. Behind him Alex and the other man were shaking hands. The two security guys had taken up position, one at the front door and one bringing up the rear. Alex started leading his visitors to the door, but they didn’t notice that Sam wasn’t following.
“Back to get ya arse kicked again, Sammy boy,” James taunted, slowly descending the stairs.
“Look, it’s the gay one from the boy band,” Sam scowled at him.
In the distance, James could hear the low thump of a helicopter approaching. He had to stall them.
“Find ya car keys, Sammy?” he asked.
“Piss off and die, you little bastard. She’ll see you for the punk you are. And when she does I’ll be there to pick up the pretty little pieces,” Sam said, giving James a knowing look. James flushed an angry red, clenching his fists at his sides.
Alex cleared his throat and glaring at James, said coldly, “I see you have met my little brother. James, please go back to your room. I will deal with you later.”
To his guests he said smoothly, “My apologies, gentlemen. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”
Sam smirked at James’s telling off. Hearing the raised voices, Andy had come down the stairs behind James with a roll of plans in his hands.
Alex swept the front door open, ushering the older man through. The sound of cars speeding up the driveway and the flash of headlights greeted them.
“Perfect timing,” Andy said softly. The noise from the helicopter was suddenly deafening as it swooped low over the house.
James leapt from the third step at Sam as Alex yelled, “Oh God, James. What. Have. You. Done?” Alex leaned forward and snatched the large art folio that the older man was carrying, and rushed back into his study, slamming the door and turning a key in the lock.
Sam went down hard, with James on top of him. They rolled around the foyer throwing punches at one another, while the older man shouted at his security, “Get into that room and stop him. He has both the money and the painting.”
The security men rushed through the open doorway and started trying to force the study door open.
The headlights of at least half a dozen cars appeared around the lake, and the helicopter took another turn over the house. Outside, one of the drivers dropped down behind the open car door, and pulling a gun took a shot at the swooping helicopter.
From the helicopter, Max Cooper surveyed the scene below. The front of the house was bathed in light from both inside and the headlights of all the vehicles in the driveway. The helicopter banked and turned at that moment, obscuring his view.
Max held onto the handrail above his head and leaned slightly out of the open door of the helicopter. Something whistled loudly past his head and hit the helicopter with a thump. They were being shot at.
“Move,” the officer beside him shouted, pulling a semi-automatic rifle from beneath the seat. Max hastily undid his safety harness and slid to the middle of the bench seat, as the officer took his position in the open door and began firing on the cars immediately in front of the house. On his other side and in the front passenger seat of the helicopter the other officers were doing the same. Max sat forward and looked out of the front window. The doors of the cars were open and men with guns were taking shelter behind them and returning fire.
A police car ran off the driveway and rolled towards the lake, its tyres shot out. A man rolled from the driver’s seat and lay on his stomach, weapon ready to fire. Max’s thoughts drifted to Stephanie. There had been no message from her or from whoever she was with. He prayed that she hadn’t somehow gotten mixed up in this. But in his heart, he didn’t believe that.
He silently cursed himself for sending Stephanie to the village when he suspected what Alex Knox was up to. Although he knew that he couldn’t have factored her getting involved with his younger brother into his plans.
The helicopter passed over the house and banked again for another sweep over the driveway. There was another series of thumps into the metal sides of the helicopter and the pilot came over the headset announcing that he was going to have to put it down, right now.
They landed on the grass beside the lake, behind the police cars that now lined the driveway. Max gingerly jumped onto the grass, running in a crouch position towards a line of trees until he was well away from still rotating blades of the helicopter. “Get down, sir,” said an officer who had followed, covering him. Max crouched, his heart racing and breathing rapid.
All around the cracks of gunshots echoed for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a minute or so, until one by one they went silent.
A voice called out through the dark night, “Throw down your weapons and stand up slowly.” The crash of metal hitting gravel sounded for a few more seconds. Then the sound of feet running over gravel and shouts of “Clear” as each of the security team was disarmed.
Max stayed where he was until the officer guarding him called, “It’s all clear, sir.” Max took a deep breath, straightened up and followed him towards the house.
Four men were lying face down in front of the house with their hands on their heads, being body searched and handcuffed. Two more sat against a car with blood on their faces and shirts.
“Paramedics on their way,” said DI Marks as he stepped forward taking charge. “Secure those weapons,” he ordered an officer to his right.
Max continued walking towards the house, where a man in a suit was standing by the open door with two officers holding his arms. Max’s steps slowed and his mouth fell open in disbelief as he turned towards him.
“Hello, Max,” said Peter Jones.