“Where’s Rose?” I asked.
“She’s in a safe hiding place.” Ivan was already backtracking to the living room.
We followed and went to the window that looked out toward the front gate. The curtains were open, except for the sheer white ones that always stayed drawn. We stood at the edges, Ivan and Jorge on one side and Sue and I on the other, peering out.
I had the gun in my left hand and the wash cloth to my ear with my right.
We could see Lorraine moving low from tree to tree toward the side of the house where the study was.
Eugene had just gotten to Sam, who was on his back near the front gate. Eugene was on one knee, his left hand on Sam’s shoulder. Someone moved, and Eugene in a quick motion brought his gun up and fired four successive shots, two ricocheting off the closed gate bars.
Eugene got to his feet and ran forward as someone in black took off down the street along the side of a house. Eugene stopped at the wrought iron bars, just as the bulky person turned into an alley and was gone. He didn’t pursue and went back to Sam.
Two more shots rang out. It must’ve been Lorraine.
“Let’s get out there.” Jorge ran toward the front door.
We were right behind him.
Jorge was cautious to open the door in case there was someone out there we’d missed. There wasn’t, so he pointed for us to go toward Sam and Eugene, while he went right to where Lorraine had gone.
We kept our heads low and went toward the front gate.
Eugene pulled off his shirt, ripped it in half and pressed one piece against Sam’s right calf and the other below his shoulder blade.
There were sirens in the distance, getting closer.
Ivan was next to Sue and me. “I had Rose call the police and ambulance.”
By the time we reached Sam and Eugene, a police car, then another, and an ambulance turned onto our street.
Ivan went to his knees, skidding on the gravel up to Sam.
I kept going to the locked gate and opened it.
The police cars—now there were five—stopped just outside our property. The ambulance continued inside.
Two paramedics jumped out. Ivan was pointing and giving them orders as they went to the back to get a gurney and medical kit.
I was still holding the gate but dropped the gun to the ground as officers approached me, their guns drawn.
Lights flashed off the shade of a building on the other side of our perimeter rock wall. Lorraine was on top of the wall pointing to the north. Jorge was standing below on the grass, scanning the area.
The thump of a helicopter close by reverberated in the air.
Officers fanned out and three came up to me.
One had a sergeant insignia on his uniform and looked to be in charge. “Did you see where the remaining shooters went?”
At that moment I saw a man lying facedown, thirty feet away. An officer was kneeling down with his fingers on his neck. That must’ve been the one Lorraine had killed after he shot Sam.
“Sir?”
“Oh.” I pointed down the street. “Into the alley.” Then my arm went to the right toward Jorge. “Others were on the wall, trying to shoot us while we were in the study.”
The two officers ran back toward their cars.
The one in charge asked, “Were you shot in the ear?”
I tried to pull the wash cloth away, but it was stuck to my ear. “I think some shrapnel caught it. I’ll be fine.”
I went over what happened, and the tall sergeant in his fifties listened, shouting orders a few times to officers that were passing.
Sue had come up beside us.
The helicopter I’d heard was touching down on the pad at the back of the estate; we could just see it go below the tree line.
An officer came up to us and addressed the sergeant. “The deceased has no identification.”
“Thanks, Tim,” the sergeant said. “A pro wouldn’t.”
Lorraine and Jorge had walked up to us.
“I shot him,” Lorraine said. “I’m licensed to carry.”
“Best you hand it over for now.” The sergeant gestured with his right hand.
Lorraine opened her navy-blue jacket to show her shoulder holster with a gun in it.
The sergeant took a glove from his pocket and carefully wrapped it around the firearm handle, pulling it free. “Seamus, come here.”
A sturdy, red-haired officer, thirty feet away, jogged over.
The sergeant pointed at Lorraine. “Take her and her weapon and process them at the van. Make sure her permit is for real.”
The officer nodded and gestured for Lorraine to go to a police van that had just arrived.
Three men in suits came around the corner of the house from where the helicopter had landed. They walked straight to where Sam was being loaded onto a gurney.
“Is anyone else here carrying a weapon?” the sergeant asked.
“I am,” Jorge said. “And that big guy, Eugene, over there. We’re both licensed.”
“Were either of them fired in this altercation?”
“Eugene’s,” Jorge said.
Mine had been picked up by one of the initial police officers, and I didn’t know where Sue’s or Ivan’s was. Jorge looked at us but didn’t say anything, nor did we.
The sergeant motioned for two more officers to come over. He instructed one to take Jorge’s gun, the other to do the same with Eugene and take them both to the van.
The paramedics were wheeling Sam to the ambulance, with Ivan next to them.
It started to rain.
Ivan had gone in the ambulance with Sam. All Eugene could tell us was that his brother was still alive.
Eventually another van showed up and transported us, including Rose, to a nondescript building in Oxford. There we were led into a windowless room with cots and an adjacent bathroom with showers and given some stale sandwiches. There we waited.
A woman who said she was a doctor came, gave my ear two stitches and a bandage and wrapped my arm in gauze and tape.
After two hours Ivan joined us.
“How’s Sam?” I asked.
Eugene had come over right away. “Yeah, how’s my brother?”
Ivan looked thoughtful. “He is in surgery, hit in the leg and shoulder. Sam will be okay, but it will take time to heal.”
You could see the relief in Eugene’s eyes.
There was nothing on the concrete white walls except for one plain black-and-white clock. It read 4:02 p.m. when seven people came into the room and individually asked each of us to follow them.
I was escorted into a small square room that only contained a rectangular metal table with a chair on either side.
I went to the far chair and sat down. I knew this was just procedure and we were safe, but still felt like I was about to be interrogated.
After what seemed like fifteen minutes, a tall man with dark hair, wearing a charcoal suit, entered the room. He was holding a small recorder and placed it on the table. “Mr. Barnes, my name is Lieutenant Thompson, Special Services.”
The hair stood on the back of my neck. I’d met a Lieutenant Thompson with a Special Unit a few years ago. He’d turned out to be a killer for Naintosa. But I’d seen him die by a bullet from Jack’s gun, and this guy didn’t look like him. I took a deep breath. The name is just a coincidence.
“It was unfortunate what happened this morning.” He pressed the record button. “Do you feel up to giving your statement?”
I recognized that he was one of the men who’d come to the estate by helicopter.
“I can understand why you’d be shaken up.” He had a stiff British accent. “Being shot at is traumatic, and it never happens in Burford. However, what you tell me may help us find who did it and their motive.”
I recalled that the first time I’d been shot at was by the now dead Lieutenant Thompson, outside Morgan’s townhouse in Seattle. I never wanted to get to the point where someone shooting a gun at me was not traumatic�
�that could be fatal. Was I in shock? Probably, yet I was calm. I only felt a slight throb coming from my ear.
“Mr. Barnes? Do you understand? Are you all right?”
I looked at the Lieutenant. He had a trustworthy face. “Sure.”
“Can you tell me what happened in as much detail as you can remember?”
I told him everything, starting with the window of the study being blown out and ending with Sam being taken away by ambulance.
He listened, seeming sympathetic, and nodded on occasion.
When I was finished, he said, “You’ve had a considerable amount of …” He paused, obviously choosing his words. “… run-ins the last three years, including being recently suspected in the murder of Dr. Hendrick Schmidt.”
“But I didn’t kill him.”
“Yes, I understand,” he said. “Do you think what happened today was connected to your activity?”
“Of course.”
CHAPTER 14
May 8, 2003
We were told we’d have to spend the night in that room. The cots were uncomfortable. Meals were bland food out of Styrofoam containers. The stay was supposed to be for our own protection, but we felt like prisoners.
“I think we should just leave,” I said.
We were sitting on metal chairs facing each other in an almost circle.
“We don’t know exactly who tried to kill us,” Sue said. “And at least two of them are still out there. They were pretty brazen, so they could try again, anywhere.”
“Maybe because you were not charged with Dr. Schmidt’s murder and they wanted to get even,” Ivan said.
“That’s what I was thinking,” I said.
“They were professional and aggressive,” Eugene said.
“What do we do when they let us out of here?” Sue asked.
“We go ahead with our plan to go to the …” I was stopped by Jorge waving his hand.
He mouthed, bugged.
When we were first arriving, Jorge had pointed out that what we said could be recorded at any time, so we needed to be careful about what we talked about. It’d slipped my mind for a second.
Ivan looked around the room. “I would like for Rose to come stay with Eugene and me, while you all are … away. Then the next phase, we all go together as planned.”
Rose nodded. “I can’t stay at the Burford house now.”
“We need to talk to Jack,” Jorge said. “He doesn’t know what’s happened.”
Both Jorge and I had tried to call Jack on our cell phones many times yesterday and today. We talked to Jack every day, so this was unusual.
An officer walked into the room. “Mr. Barnes, please come with me.”
I followed, not knowing what it was about, hoping they were going to tell me we were free to go.
I was led down a hall to a room identical to the one in which I’d given my statement yesterday.
I was surprised to see Chief Inspector Plante come in a minute later. He was wearing a black suit, white shirt, and black tie. That reminded me that I was in the same track pants and T-shirt that I’d been wearing yesterday and had slept in, and that I hadn’t had a shower. At least I’d brushed my teeth.
“Monsieur Barnes.”
“Chief Inspector.”
He took a seat across from me. “You lead a dangerous life and have enemies that obviously want you eliminated.”
“Do you know who it was this time?”
“Not exactly, yet.”
I sat forward and placed my arms on the table. “I bet you’re pretty sure who’s behind it.”
“I have my suspicions.” He leaned forward and placed his arms on the table. “Why don’t you tell me who you suspect, first?”
“Well, in the past it’s been Naintosa’s security, but they usually get in and abduct you, not start shooting from a distance,” I said. “My guess is that it was freelancers … hired assassins. Who hired them would be the next question. I don’t know if he is less or more ruthless than his father, so I’m not sure if it was Hendrick Schmidt V.”
Plante gave me a penetrating stare. “So, who else?”
Him saying that took me aback, but I tried not to show it. “Could be Davis Lovemark, Carlo Da Silva, or all three of them.”
“Why would you suspect them?”
“Really?” I raised my eyebrows. “Do I have to explain it?”
He didn’t flinch or say anything.
“Then there’s that guy, Ogden Dundst. But I don’t think he’s capable of that, let alone have buddies that could help him.” I thought for a second. “Or maybe I’m underestimating him.”
Plante’s face showed some life. “Mr. Dundst was just released from hospital where he was treated for two broken ribs and a collarbone. He is now in jail on several charges.”
“More than just stalking us?”
“Related. Mr. Dundst is an unemployed computer technician who was able to hack into the London traffic cameras. We don’t know how exactly he was able to know when you’d be coming into the city yet.”
I remembered Jorge had intended to get our computers scanned for bugs but hadn’t had time. “Could he have hacked into my computer?”
“Possibly.” Plante was staring at me again. “Perhaps you should turn your computer over to us.”
I didn’t like the way he said that.
He must’ve read my reaction. “What are your plans now?”
“Does that mean you’re releasing us?”
“You will be escorted to the Burford home to get your belongings. You can’t stay there while it’s an active crime scene.” Plante pulled out a pad from his inside suit pocket, jotted something down, and then put it away again. “My suggestion is that you move elsewhere and lead a quieter life not upsetting powerful people.”
“Good suggestion.” Yeah, right, like I was going to do that.
“Where will you go … back to the United States?”
“Probably.” I hoped he didn’t catch that lie.
Plante stood up. “The contents you all take from the estate will be catalogued. Then before you are released, you will have to tell the attending officer where you will be going. As I stated before, you should always inform me of your whereabouts going forward.”
I wasn’t going to comply with his request; however, we had to rethink what we were going to do. He’d suspect our intentions when he found out that we took winter gear and supplies.
“Let’s go.” He walked to the door. “I want to speak to your group.”
We went back down the hall to the room we’d been held in.
Sue, Ivan, and Jorge knew who Chief Inspector Plante was and looked surprised to see him.
“If I can have everyone’s attention,” Plante said in his French accent. He then explained what he’d told me about getting our belongings and letting the police know where we were going.
There were lots of glances at me as the others realized we had to rethink our strategy.
“Also, it has come to my attention and I regret to inform you,” Plante’s voice became sympathetic and slowed. “Jack Carter has been killed.”
“What?” No, that couldn’t be.
“Oh dear God.” Rose looked like she was about to faint. Eugene was next to her and helped her to a chair.
Ivan shook his head and looked angry. “Where did it happen?”
“His home in Dallas,” Plante said. “I am sorry.”
“Fucking hell.” Sue had tears in her eyes.
“Do you know who did it?” Jorge’s voice hitched.
Plante hesitated, as if weighing how much to tell us. “He was shot by Peter Bail.”
Fucking Peter Bail finally did it. I felt hopeless. Why Jack? Bail wanted me more than him. Jack was such a great person.
“And what about Lee?” Lorraine asked.
“Lee Donald was shot in the abdomen,” Plante said. “He’s in the hospital, and I was informed that he will recover.” He paused for a second and then continued, “Lee killed Bail.
”
“Are you sure?” I blurted out. “They thought he was killed before.”
“That is the report I received.”
“Bail worked for Naintosa and Schmidt before,” I said. “They probably came after us at the same time with the goal of killing every one of us at once.”
Plante nodded but didn’t reply.
That fucking Peter Bail and that fucking Hendrick Schmidt and that whole fucking Club of mother fucking rich fuckers that thought they ruled the world. I slumped down on a chair. Not Jack.
I heard sobbing and sniffling. I looked up to see how distraught everyone was, except for Jorge and Eugene, who looked downright menacing.
Plante held out his arm. “No one think of doing anything rash. Let the authorities deal with this.”
We all looked at him with contempt, and Plante physically took a step back. “I suggest you stick together and go someplace quiet … someplace safe, until this all can be sorted out.”
“Someplace where we’ll be easy targets?” Sue grit her teeth. “All bunched together.”
“We’re now going to Dallas, of course.” We had no choice, and I didn’t feel the need to hide that. Everyone would suspect that move on our part. It could’ve been the most dangerous destination for us, but we had to go for Jack. We’d have to figure out how to disappear from there.
Ivan addressed Plante. “Eugene will stay until his brother recovers. The rest of us are going to Dallas to see our friend laid to rest and help the other friend in his recovery.”
It was decided. We all went to stand beside Ivan.
Plante nodded. “We will escort you now back to Burford. From there we can take Eugene to the hospital where Sam is. I was told it will take time but Sam will fully recover.”
You could see relief on Eugene’s large face.
“The rest of you will be taken to Heathrow,” Plante continued. “I will contact the authorities in Dallas, but be very careful, there is no guarantee they’ll provide any type of security for you.”
Jorge went to hug Eugene, which seemed uncharacteristic until I saw him slip a cell phone into his pocket.
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