Dead of Night [Full Book]
Page 13
‘Let’s get out of here!’ he shouted.
Rosa rushed over to one of the windows, their exit now hazardous from the flames. She opened it, leapt onto the windowsill and climbed out. Franz watched Jack to make sure he didn’t make a move against them.
‘Here, give me the gun.’
Franz hesitated for a moment before passing it to her. He didn’t have a choice, Rosa would need to cover him to make sure that Jack didn’t shoot. He began to scramble through the window.
‘Here, take this.’ He handed the laptop to Rosa.
Jack had rushed to Lucy who was screaming with pain. The fire was increasing in intensity, it would soon have hold of the entire house.
Then, a gunshot. Jack thought he’d pulled the trigger of his own weapon by mistake, but it wasn’t him. He looked towards Franz who was perched on the windowsill, then gasped as he dropped back into the sitting room, dead.
Rosa looked back into the room, pointing the gun at Jack.
‘You think I can’t fly a chopper, you fucker?’ she hissed, and then was gone, running to the field at the back of the house towards the helicopter.
‘The baby,’ Lucy pleaded. ‘We have to get to Hamish.’
‘Help me with the rug!’ Jack shouted.
In spite of the pain of her burned hand, Lucy managed to pick up one end. They worked together to beat back the flames in the living room and then threw it over the first three stairs where the fire had begun to take hold.
They ran upstairs, the heat from below was ferocious. Jack burst into Hamish’s room. Sophie was sitting on the floor next to the cot, her face bloody and bruised. Her wrists and ankles were bound with parcel tape, her mouth taped up too. Jack quickly released her using some scissors which were lying on the chest of drawers.
‘Where’s Hamie?’ Lucy screamed, rushing between the bedrooms. ‘Where is he?’
‘They’ve taken him,’ Sophie gasped.
‘Where? Jesus, where have they taken him?’ asked Jack.
‘They took him when the helicopter came. Oh God, Jack. They shot Clive. They just shot him. What the fuck is going on?’
Jack didn’t reply. Instead he ran into the spare room and pulled the mattress off the bed. He opened the window on the landing and heaved it through. It dropped to the ground beneath.
‘I’ll go first, Lucy, and you and Sophie follow. Okay?’
She nodded at him. Jack threw the gun out of the window then jumped up onto the windowsill, letting himself down slowly by holding onto the sill, and then dropping onto the mattress.
Behind him the helicopter blades were speeding up. He picked up his gun and ran towards the back of the garden. He jumped straight over the fence to see Rosa about to tip Hamish’s carrycot out of the chopper. He sprinted towards her, having one last shot at her as he ran.
She looked at him and deliberately dropped the carrycot onto the ground. She slid over into the pilot’s seat. Jack jumped up to the open window slamming her face with the butt of his gun. He ducked as he felt the downward force of the blades. He leant into the cockpit, feeling around for the ignition. He found the key, pulled it out and threw it into the grass. He rushed towards Hamish, his heart pounding in his chest. His son couldn’t be seen, his carrycot had fallen on top of him.
It didn’t take Rosa long to recover. She jumped out of the helicopter and leapt onto Jack’s back, her hands clasped around his neck. She was so strong. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t throw her off. She wouldn’t let go. He dropped the gun and thrashed around, desperate to free himself of her grip. He could feel the downward pressure of the blades, but they were slowing now that the engine had been turned off.
He had one last chance, one final opportunity to finish this damn woman off for good. He moved away from Hamish towards the outer reaches of the blades. Still she squeezed, his windpipe was being crushed. He was fading now, there wasn’t long left. With one last almighty effort, he thrust upwards. As they slowed, the outer tips of the blades had begun to drop lower. It was enough. With that final push, Rosa moved directly into their path, slicing off the top of her head before she even realised what was happening.
Two months later
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‘How are you doing?’ Jack asked. ‘Have you got a stitch?’
‘Better than I thought,’ Lucy replied. ‘My ankle’s still sore but I can run on it.’
She smiled at him. She’d thanked him over a hundred times already for what he’d done that night. He’d saved their baby.
Hamish gurgled in the buggy as if he sensed they were thinking about him.
‘I don’t know why we never thought about doing this before,’ she continued. ‘These three-wheeled buggies are brilliant. Hamish and I could have been out running all the time when you were away.’
They were nearing the house. Jack could see the bright red of the Sold sign. He’d begun to think that they’d never see one of those, but after the fire the site had been levelled for safety. Jack and Lucy were living in the garden, in a caravan, while the insurance got sorted out.
A builder had called in speculatively one day while they were eating lunch. Would they sell it as a building plot? he’d asked. He could get six retirement houses on that land.
It was a good deal, strong enough to get them out of there and settle their debts. It would be cheaper in the town, they’d get a lot more for their money. They were done with the countryside and rural living.
What happened that night hit them hard. Several times they’d given themselves up for dead, but they’d made it through. They’d survived because they’d worked together. They did it. The two of them.
Clive had set him up. He’d been working with Matt Rackham. The bastards had been using Jack’s project as a Trojan horse. While Jack thought he was working on some other project, Matt Rackham was concealing highly confidential research data in the code and Clive was making deals with some German contacts who could sell valuable information stored inside the code to some shady operation in Israel. It was way beyond him, but those treacherous fuckers had got him involved without a thought for his family or his welfare.
In his more uncharitable moments, Jack thought they’d got what they deserved. It was Sophie he felt sorry for though. Clive had been spinning her some bullshit yarn when he was up to his ears in debt. Yes, Clive really was a shit.
As they drew up to the house, Jack could see that Maxine was waiting for them, sitting on the caravan step.
Lucy waved and Hamish giggled when he saw who it was.
It reminded Jack of the way he’d laughed when he gingerly moved the carrycot to see if his baby son had been hurt in the fall from the helicopter. Not a scratch! Hamish was completely oblivious, thinking that his dad was playing hide-and-seek with him.
‘Is that you off then?’ Lucy asked.
‘Yes, I’m all packed and ready to go. I’m going to miss you all. And Hamish. Send me photos on Facebook, won’t you?’
‘Thanks so much for everything you’ve done, Maxine,’ Jack said. ‘We really appreciate it.’
‘When do you start your new job?’ Maxine asked him.
‘Two more weeks,’ he answered. ‘After Lucy has finished the treatment on her hand.’
He looked down at the bandages. No lasting damage, thank God. Lucy’s hand would heal, they’d said, with only a small amount of scarring.
‘I’ve got something for you – in the caravan,’ Lucy said, opening the door and stepping inside.
She came out with a card and a present.
‘It’s a small gift to get you underway at university. I hope you like it.’
Maxine hugged her and looked into Lucy’s face, concerned.
‘You are sure?’ Maxine asked. ‘You’re certain that you’re going to be okay now?’
Lucy looked at Hamish, then at Jack. She took her husband’s hand and squeezed it.
‘It’s lovely that you asked,’ she said, tears forming in her eyes. ‘But I’m better now, thank you. We’re be
tter. Everything is good again. Things are going to work out for all of us.’
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Find out more about Paul J. Teague’s thrillers at https://paulteague.co.uk/
Also by Paul J. Teague
Don’t Tell Meg Trilogy
Book 1 - Don’t Tell Meg
Book 2 - The Murder Place
Book 3 - The Forgotten Children
Standalone Thrillers
Dead of Night
Burden of Guilt
One Fatal Error
Writing Sci-Fi as Paul Teague
The Secret Bunker Trilogy
Book 1 - Darkness Falls
Books 2 - The Four Quadrants
Books 3 - Regeneration
The Grid Trilogy
Book 1 - Fall of Justice
Book 2 - Quest for Vengeance
Book 3 - Catharsis
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About the Author
Hi, I'm Paul Teague, the author of the Don't Tell Meg trilogy as well as several other standalone psychological thrillers such as Burden of Guilt, Dead of Night and One Fatal Error.
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I'm a former broadcaster and journalist with the BBC, but I have also worked as a primary school teacher, a disc jockey, a shopkeeper, a waiter and a sales rep.
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I've read thrillers all my life, starting with Enid Blyton's Famous Five series, then graduating to James Hadley Chase, Harlan Coben, Linwood Barclay and Mark Edwards.
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If you love those authors then you’ll like my thrillers too.
Let’s get connected!
https://paulteague.co.uk
paul@paulteague.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Author, except where permitted by law.
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Copyright © 2017 Paul Teague writing as Paul J. Teague
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All rights reserved