Sharp Shot

by Jack Higgins

  There was a pause before Darrow continued. “You remember when we were out in Iraq back in 1990, John? You, me, Ferdy and Dex.”

  “Ferdy’s dead.”

  “Yeah. Shame that. I thought he might be able to help me, but it turns out you’re the only one. He said even Dex couldn’t tell me what I need to know. I was hoping not to have to come and find you, John. Ferdy was always so much more amenable.”

  “Is that why you killed him?”

  “Oh, please.” Darrow sounded outraged. “I killed him because he came at me with a hammer.”

  “Probably because he realised you were going to shoot him anyway.”

  “Quite likely,” Darrow agreed happily. “Now, let’s get back to Iraq, shall we?”

  The line on the map was over New York now. There it split into several lines that headed off in different directions. Alan threw up his hands in defeat, and moved aside to let Pete take over the computer.

  “Is there any point to these reminiscences?”

  “Indeed there is. You see, I had a little scheme going back then. Not much in the grand scale of things, but there’s the principle of it too, I suppose.”

  “You have principles?”

  Darrow seemed not to have heard the insult. “You remember I picked up a souvenir while I was out there. A small statue.”

  “I remember.”

  “That you deprived me of.”

  “We had to leave it behind. We had to leave just about everything behind. You were lucky we didn’t leave you behind after you got yourself shot-up.”

  “Yes, that’s true. But that statue’s mine and I want it back.”

  “Yours? You stole it.”

  “Well, finders-keepers and all that. Anyhow, that’s the deal. You hid that statue somewhere, or you left it in southern Iraq and now I need it so I can sell it and pay off my debts. Oh, I know it’s been a while, but without knowing where it is and without a buyer lined up, it was more trouble than it was worth to try to find it, or to ask you to help. And I had other things to do to keep me busy and well paid. But now, well, things have changed. So here’s the proposition: the statue in return for your daughter. Sounds like a good deal to me, John. Why don’t I call back in one hour and you can tell me where it is, and I’ll put Jade on a plane back home? Or something.”

  “Now, wait a minute,” Chance snarled into the handset.

  But the speakers relayed only static. Darrow had hung up.

  The next hour was tense. Pete and Alan were trying desperately to trace the source of Darrow’s call, but the best they could offer was that it originated “Maybe somewhere in the Middle East. Or North Africa. Or not.”

  Chance and Halford recounted the story of their mission in Iraq. Rich was fascinated, but he couldn’t see how any of this connected to current events.

  Ardman too had reservations. “I’ve read the file,” he admitted. “After all, it’s best to know as much as possible about the people you recruit to work for you. But there has to be more to it than Darrow’s letting on.”

  “The statue?”

  “Maybe.” Ardman sucked in his cheeks as he considered. “If the man really needs money, why doesn’t he just ask for money? Why is this statue so important to him? Or, given his rather special skills, why doesn’t he just go and steal another one from some museum?”

  “So the statue is important itself,” said Halford.

  “Maybe it really is a point of principle,” Rich suggested. “Dad took the statue from him, now he wants it back.”

  “Bit petty,” Alan put in.

  “Is Darrow a petty person?” Ardman wondered.

  Halford shook his head. “Practical and efficient. Vicious and nasty. He’d kill someone for the hell of it —in that sense he’s petty. But for a principle? Tit-for-tat, after so long? No, I doubt it.”

  “It would be useful to know who he needs to pay off,” said Chance thoughtfully. “Because it may be that’s who is demanding this statue. Or maybe Darrow upset them by promising to get it and then he couldn’t deliver.”

  “Maybe it’s just a priceless ancient Iraqi artefact and he really is just after the dosh,” Pete called across from his desk. He shrugged apologetically. “It’s possible, isn’t it?”

  “I guess so,” admitted Chance. “It didn’t look like much, though it was very heavy. Back in 1990, Darrow was very keen to keep hold of it.”

  “Either way,” Ardman decided, “if the statue is that important or valuable, then I don’t think we want Darrow to have it.”

  “But what about Jade?” Rich blurted out.

  Ardman smiled. “Oh, I don’t mean we shouldn’t agree to hand it over. In fact I think we should, and get your sister back safe and sound as soon as we can. But that doesn’t mean that Darrow should get to keep the statue, does it?”

  “Darrow will insist on dictating where the handover takes place,” said Halford. “We can’t plan ahead till we know that, and as soon as we do he’ll have all the advantage.”

  Chance turned to Pete and Alan. “You say that call came from the Middle East.”

  “Might have done,” admitted Alan. “It’s possible. Maybe even probable.”

  Chance nodded. “In that case, and given that Darrow seems desperate to get this statue back as soon as he can, I think I know exactly where he’ll suggest we do the exchange.”

  “How does that help?” asked Rich.

  “It helps because we can do a bit of forward planning,” said Ardman. “And I know just the people who can help.”

  12

  “Don’t do that,” said Chance.

  “Sorry.” Rich had been nervously playing with the metal beetle he’d won on the Hook-a-Duck.

  They were standing in the Iraqi desert, by the crumbled remains of a large village. Rich didn’t know how many strings had been pulled to get them here, but he still couldn’t quite believe that the day before he’d been in an English manor house, and now he was in Iraq. He was standing in the hot sand of one of the most dangerous countries on earth, about to take on an ex-SAS soldier in a deadly game of bluff…

  Nervously, he gave the metal strip welded to the beetle’s body one more press. Click-clack.

  Chance sighed and turned slowly to glare at him.

  “Sorry,” said Rich again, stuffing the toy back into his pocket. “I was just mucking about.”

  “Well don’t. It sounds like a gun being readied. Just like the bolt action of an old 2.2 rifle, or someone cocking a pistol.”

  “Really?”

  “Plus,” said Chance, “it’s really irritating.” He went back to examining the sand next to a ruined wall. ”I brought you here to keep an eye on you, not so you could click-click-click at me all the time.”

  “Have you found it yet?” asked Rich, changing the subject.

  Chance shook his head. “I’m sure this is the one. Of course, it was a long time ago, and there’s no way of knowing if anyone else has found it already.”

  Rich looked around. “It doesn’t look like there’s been anyone here for years. You sure you’ve got the right building?”

  “No. It was nearly twenty years ago, so I’m not sure about anything.”

  Almost as soon as he finished speaking, Chance gave a grunt of satisfaction and pulled a battered water bottle out of the sand.

  “You left your water?” said Rich.

  “Just the empty bottles.” He pulled out a webbing belt and threw it aside.

  Rich knelt to help, scrabbling beside his father in the sand and rubble. Straight away, he felt something hard in the soft sand. A smooth, rounded shape, covered in fabric. He scraped the sand away, Chance leaned across to help.

  “Well done. I think you’ve got it.”

  Chance managed to get his hands under the rucksack that Rich had found and lift it clear of the sand. He set it down close by and dusted his hands together. Then he opened the top and lifted out the heavy statue inside.

  “Is that it?” said Rich, unimpressed.


  Chance nodded, putting it down beside the rucksack. The statue was earthenware or terracotta. Although it had worn so smooth that most of the details were lost, Rich could see that it was a stylised depiction of a lion rearing up on its hand legs.

  “Were there lions here, then?” he asked.

  Chance shrugged. “No idea. Maybe not, maybe that’s why it’s valuable. An ancient mystery, perhaps.”

  “Or a boring old statue. It’s hideous.”

  “It’s heavy, that’s for sure,” said Chance. He checked his watch. “Good timing. Darrow will be here soon.”

  “Let’s hope he’s brought Jade with him.”

  Chance didn’t answer. He had his mobile phone out and was working the buttons.

  “You’ll never get a signal out here,” Rich pointed out.

  “Not trying to. I’m just going to take a couple of pictures of our chum here.”

  Chance held his phone up and snapped the statue from the front, side and back. Then he tipped it over and took a picture of the base. It was flat, with a slight hollow. The edge was chipped and cracked.

  “Careful you don’t break it,” said Rich.

  Chance grinned. “There’s an idea. Good one.” He ran his thumbnail along the tiny crack and prised off a sliver.

  “Here.” He gave the tiny strip of pottery to Rich. “Stick that in your beetle and keep it safe. Might stop it making that stupid noise too.”

  Rich wedged the shard of pottery behind the metal strip that made the click-clack noise, and put the beetle back in his pocket.

  “Just in time,” he said. They could both hear the far off sound of a helicopter.

  A short distance away, their own helicopter stood immobile on the sand. Its rotor blades drooped over the dark, bulbous body. Chance gave the pilot a thumbs-up, and the man returned the gesture.

  “Will he tell Ardman we’ve found it?” asked Rich.

  Chance shook his head. “Radio silence for now. Darrow could be monitoring the frequency. And so could the local security forces. We’re not meant to be here, remember.”

  “I thought we liberated Iraq,” said Rich.

  “There are other, less generous interpretations. Not everyone in Iraq wanted to be liberated. And who knows what friends Darrow has made, or bribed out here. He’s had a long time to plan this, whatever it is.”

  “OK, I get the picture.” But Rich’s words were swallowed up by the sound of the helicopter coming in to land.

  Sand blew round them, kicked up by the helicopter’s rotors. It stung Rich’s face, and he pulled his headscarf round so only his eyes were exposed as he blinked away dust and sand.

  The rotors slowed to a halt and the engine noise died away.

  “Darrow’s here, and we’ve found the statue,” said Chance loudly as he led Rich out into the open. “Let’s see if he’s brought Jade with him.”

  They stood with their hands raised as they waited for Darrow to emerge from the helicopter.

  At last the door slid open, and a figure jumped to the ground. A figure dressed in white, with a silk headscarf rippling in the breeze.

  Jade.

  Rich almost ran to her, but Chance held him back and shook his head.

  Darrow jumped down beside Jade, spreading his hands to show he wasn’t holding a gun.

  “So—we’ve got a deal, then. Do you have my statue?”

  “It’s nearby,” Chance shouted back. “You send Jade over here and I’ll get it.”

  “You get it, so I can see it. Then we’ll exchange on open ground between the helicopters. Don’t want you flying away with your family and not giving me what I want.”

  “As if,” Chance muttered. “Rich, get the statue. Carefully.”

  As Rich went to get the statue from the ruined building, Chance walked slowly towards Darrow and Jade.

  Jade made to run to him, but Darrow caught her arm and dragged her back.

  “It’s all right, Jade. Just be patient,” Chance told her.

  “You came unarmed, as we agreed?” Darrow asked. He licked his lips as he watched Rich carry the statue across to them.

  The two groups stood about ten metres apart.

  “So now what?” Jade asked.

  “Now you come over to join us here, slowly,” said Chance. He took the statue from Rich and started to walk slowly to Darrow. “And you can have your precious statue. Then we all go back to our helicopters and get out before the locals realise we were even here. And you be very careful,” he said to Darrow, “because I know full well that you’re not really unarmed.”

  Jade brushed her hand down Chance’s arm as they passed, then she hurried to join Rich, enfolding him in a hug.

  “And you’re telling me you’re not armed either?” said Darrow. Like Chance he was careful to keep the other group between him and their helicopter at all times.

  “Oh, but I assure you I’m not.”

  “You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you,” said Darrow, taking the statue from Chance. “Thank you for this.”

  “Thank you for nothing,” Chance told him.

  Each of them backed slowly away—Chance towards Rich and Jade, Darrow towards his helicopter.

  “You disappoint me, John,” Darrow shouted across. “I thought you would try something.”

  Chance shook his head. “Not me,” he shouted back.

  Then he turned and enfolded both his children in a bear hug, diving for the ground and dragging them with him. Rich had been expecting it, but even so the breath was knocked out of him as they landed.

  “Stay down!” ordered Chance.

  Over his dad’s shoulder, Rich could see the sand close to Darrow erupting. Darrow stared in disbelief as a broad-shouldered man in desert combat fatigues leaped from the hole where he had been buried in the sand and brought up his assault rifle.

  Close to Darrow’s helicopter, two more figures were struggling free of the desert ground. One of them leaped into position by the doorway, rifle aimed at the pilot.

  A fourth figure pushed up through the sand on the other side of Darrow—a woman, also in combat gear and brandishing a rifle.

  “That woman…” Jade gasped.

  “Agent Kate Hunter,” said Chance.

  “She tried to rescue you from Darrow at Boscombe Heights,” said Rich. “They’re all CIA. Or something.”

  There was silence except for the sound of the wind as it whipped round the ruined buildings and fallen walls. Then Darrow laughed.

  “You didn’t disappoint me after all,” he yelled. “I’m so glad.”

  “Really?” said Chuck White, the agent closest to Darrow.

  “Really,” said Darrow. “Because it means I don’t have to feel at all guilty about this.”

  He flung himself to the ground. As he fell, rolling to protect the statue he was holding, Rich could see that Darrow had something else in his hand too. A small, black box.

  “Detonator!” Chuck shouted, hurling himself to the ground.

  Kate Hunter and the other agent followed suit. Only the American agent in the door of Darrow’s helicopter remained standing, but not for long, as the helicopter exploded in a ball of fire. Black smoke billowed into the air.

  Darrow ran for the cover of a broken wall, then ducked behind it.

  “He can’t go anywhere,” said Rich.

  “Unless he’s got friends near by,” said Chance. “Friends who will have seen the helicopter go up.”

  “A signal?” Jade gasped.

  But Chance was on his feet, yelling at Chuck and his team. “Get under cover—quick as you can. Move it!”

  They were already moving, heading for the nearest cover. Their own helicopter was too exposed, and too far away. They could all hear the noise now—above and beyond the sound of the burning helicopter. Engines, low and throbbing and getting louder and closer.

  Black specs became dots, then blotches. Dark helicopters were stark against the blue sky as they swooped low over the ruined village. Sand kicked up all around Rich a
nd Jade, as the deafening side-mounted machine guns fired.

  Chuck and Hunter were in the clear, but the other American agent was caught in the open. His body spasmed and juddered in a hail of gunfire before he dropped to the ground.

  Close by, one of the helicopters lowered itself ponderously to the ground near where Darrow was sheltering. The rotors whipped up sand, spraying it across the landscape.

  Then there was the whoosh of a rocket. A trail of fire streaked over the desert.

  The helicopter that Rich, Chance and the American agents had arrived in was lifting off the ground. The pilot’s face was grim as he leaned over the controls, desperate to get his craft off the ground and out of the kill zone.

  The rocket hit the middle of the helicopter and smashed it sideways before the explosion blew it to smithereens. Rich ducked again, his hands over the back of his head as burning debris hurtled past him.

  Only as the noise gradually faded did he look up. The helicopters were disappearing into the distance.

  “You think they’ll come back?” asked Jade, her voice shaking.

  “I don’t think they’ll bother,” said her father. “They picked up Darrow and the statue, that’s what they came for.”

  “I thought they were going to kill us,” said Rich. He was trembling and it was an effort to stop his teeth from chattering.

  Chuck White and Kate Hunter had joined them in time to hear Rich’s comment.

  “They did kill us,” said Chuck, gesturing to the dead agent and the remains of the helicopter. “We’re as stone cold dead as Hal and Mike.”

  “What do you mean?” said Jade.

  “No helicopter, no communications,” Chance told her.

  “You’ve still got your guns,” Rich told Chuck.

  “You can’t drink guns. We’ve got no water, precious little shelter, and it’s a long way to the nearest oasis.”

  “Ardman will send someone,” said Jade.

  But Rich knew how difficult it had been for Ardman to get them here in the first place.

  “Another helicopter mission will take time to arrange —probably days,” Chance told them. “And that’s if Ardman even realises there’s a problem. Since we’re maintaining radio silence, it’ll be a while before anyone gets worried and longer before they decide to act.”