by Karen Cossey
Oscar hung up. “We’ll just take the girl. When we’re all clear, we’ll let her go. Understand? No coppers, or she’s a goner. Take her out to the van, Alex, and tie her up.”
Alex tugged on Poet’s arm, pulling her towards the front door as Jake came up the stairs with the last load. Oscar was studying Nate with an evil look on his face. Jake stared at Oscar, put the buckets down and moved towards him.
“What’s up, Oscar?” he asked, his fists clenched tight.
“Don’t come any closer Jake. I think girlie should see this, make sure she knows we’re serious. And you, fighter boy,” he said, nodding at Cole, “You definitely need to know I’m not mucking around.”
Oscar pointed his gun at Nate.
“No way, boss,” Jake said and lunged at him, knocking the gun from his hands, before landing a blow to Oscar, who clutched his stomach and bent over double.
“No one said anything about killing kids. You can’t do that—it’s murder,” Jake shouted.
Oscar dived forward, grabbed the gun, then turned and shot Jake in the thigh, sending him rolling on the floor in agony.
“This is a serious situation. Don’t no one tell me how to handle it.” Oscar gasped as he stood up.
Alex twisted his hands together while Zach let out a long slow breath. Cole willed Nate to stay calm. He worked even harder at loosening the ropes tying his hands. Nearly there.
Oscar looked at Alex and Zach. “Right then, let’s get moving. Zach, help Jake.”
He turned back towards Nate, and then pointed his gun at him.
As the gun pressed on his temple, Nate ducked down and spun to the side, his arms up, knocking Oscar’s hand and sending the gun flying. Then he spun the other way, and brought his heel down hard on Oscar’s foot while elbowing him in the stomach. Oscar doubled over again, pressing Nate over with him. Nate grabbed Oscar’s shirt, and taking advantage of Oscar’s loss of balance, he tucked up sideways then yanked Oscar over his shoulder and onto the ground.
Cole managed to twist his hands out of the ropes he’d loosened. He leaped at Zach, ducking a fist in the face before punching him hard in his neck. Zach staggered and fell to his knees.
A shot went off.
Alex had picked up the gun and fired it at the ceiling. He stood off to the side, apart from them all, pointing the gun at Nate.
“Shoot him,” Oscar yelled, furious.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Meeka, I’ve got a knife in my jeans’ pocket,” Logan said. These ropes were too tight to even wiggle his hands about.
“Ewww, I’ll have to touch your butt.” She sounded horrified.
“Don’t be a moron! These ropes hurt. It’s worth a try.” Meeka poked at his butt and fished out the pocket-knife then tried to cut the ropes.
“This isn’t as easy as it looks in the movies,” she said.
“Come on, piano girl. Your fingers should be dancing over that knife. Unless, of course, you don’t really practice three hours a day,” Logan said.
“Jerk.”
“You can do better than that. How about ugliojerkio, or fartiofaceio?”
“Shut up. I’m concentrating. Do you want this bladio through your handio?”
“Nopio.”
“Didn’t think so, you twitiot schnook.”
Twitiot Schnook. That was new. What’s a schnook?
Meeka was almost finished cutting through the ropes when Logan noticed something moving outside the window.
Flames.
His father’s cigarette. It must have caught on the dry grass. He yanked his hands apart, then turned and started untying Meeka.
He turned her to face him before he spoke, trying to keep the alarm out of his voice. “Meeka, you need to stay calm. I’m going to get us out of here.”
What would Meeka do when she saw the flames? She might have a meltdown. Well, they both might have meltdown for real if they didn’t get out of here soon.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, then noticed the flames herself. She went white and started shaking.
“Wait there,” Logan said. She wasn’t going anywhere. She couldn’t move.
He went to the inside door and yanked on it. It wouldn’t budge. Meeka called out to him—she was holding out the spare paperclips she had made for picking the lock. Logan grabbed them off her and opened the door but there was a large bookcase blocking the entrance. His father had really had it in for them.
Logan pushed on it then shoved hard against it. It didn’t budge. Jake must have jammed something between the bookshelf and the wall. They couldn’t get out that way.
He ran to the other door—it was getting warm. He picked the lock and swung the door open. The heat tried to bowl him over as it rushed in the door. Across the path, the fire was getting taller and scarier. He wouldn’t have a chance of getting Meeka to run up the stairs. He looked at her, desperation in his eyes. If any time was the time to pray, it was now, so he muttered out a few Helps. Abby sometimes made them go to church youth group, and the leader was always going on about how God was watching over them. He hoped that God had both eyes open tonight, because if he didn’t think of something soon, Meeka and he would both be toast. Literally.
Out of the corner of his eyes he spotted the tarpaulin. Maybe there was something under there he could use to ram the bookcase. He yanked at the tarpaulin. No way! His dirt bike! He let out a shout. How did that get here? No matter—no time to think about it now. He took another look out the door and made out enough room to turn the bike round where the path widened by the bins. There’d be a bit of a run up from there too. Lucky he still had the key for his bike in his pocket.
Now to get Meeka to move when she was petrifyingly terrified. She had said something the other day—what was it? He crouched down beside her, and tried to speak calmly.
“Remember how you said you could play your piano to a crowd even though that would normally freak you out, as long as you imagined it was just you and your parents in a bubble?”
She focused all her attention on him, and nodded.
“I want you to imagine it’s just you, me and my bike, and we’re in a really large bubble. We’re going to ride inside the bubble for a little bit, and when we stop, we’ll get to see your parents.” He looked at her, holding his breath, hoping his bubble babble would do it.
“Can I close my eyes? That always helps me imagine it better.” She tried to smile at him, obviously exerting a lot of effort to try and control her panic.
“Sure. I’ll tell you when. Here, put this on.” He helped her into his helmet before she could change her mind. At least her hair wouldn’t catch on fire.
He pushed the bike outside, and turned it around by the bins. Back inside, he forced Meeka out the door with a lot of yelling about bubbles and pulling on her arms. She climbed on the back and held him tight.
He had ridden up steep inclines with little kids before, but this was stairs, and Meeka wasn’t a little kid. Not to mention the fire all around them. He was sweating as let the clutch go and powered towards the stairs. They hit the first one, bumping over it and going straight up.
He heard Meeka’s scream even through the helmet. “We’re going to die, we’re going to die!”
He got to the top, swerved round the corner and stopped in front of the main door of the house. Made it! Relief washed over him as turned around and grabbed Meeka’s shoulders.
“We’re all right, we’re all right. We did it!” he yelled at her, lifting her visor. She stopped screaming and started thumping him on the head.
“Smoke, smoke. You’re smoking!” She was laughing and crying all at once. Logan became aware of the pain in his head, and it wasn’t from her hitting him. He whacked at his hair, too. They might not die, but that sure was going to hurt for a while. Meeka took her helmet off and inspected his head, like a monkey looking for fleas on its buddy.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cole’s head was pounding and he saw and heard everything in slow motion.
/>
“Shoot him,” Oscar yelled, furious, as he nodded at Nate.
Alex started to bring his arm down to aim his gun at Nate.
Crack! A shot went off, ripping the air to shreds.
Cole tried to scream, but his throat was so tight, no noise came out.
Nate didn’t fall down. Why not?
Cole turned his head to look at Alex. He was groaning and clutching his hand, which was bleeding everywhere.
The gun was on the floor.
Cole snapped out of his daze and leapt at the gun, kicking it out of the way. Nate ducked over to Poet, and pulled her back towards the window, away from Oscar and Zach.
A man sprang in from the veranda and went straight over to Zach, punching him in the face and knocking him unconscious. He turned towards Oscar and a savage fist fight broke out.
Nate pulled something out of his pocket. Powder bombs! That’s what Logan and Nate had been so secretive about lately.
Nate threw the egg bombs hard at Oscar’s back, one after the other. Oscar hesitated mid-punch, turning as a shower of talcum powder erupted all around him. Bet the boys had put pepper in there, too. That would sting! They’d got him with a powder bomb last summer and he could still remember how bad it felt.
The stranger took advantage of the distraction and landed two hard punches, one just below Oscar’s nose and another to his temple. Oscar fell to the ground, out like a light.
It was all over in a few moments. Everyone went silent as they stared at the stranger, waiting for him to get his breath back.
Who was he?
*****
Logan heard two shots explode the air. They were from inside the house! Maybe he was wrong about the not dying thing.
Meeka looked at him, shock on her face, the same shock he was sure would be echoed on his own face. He motioned for her to get down, and they crawled over to the window and peered inside. They could make out Cole, Poet and Nate slumped together with their backs to the window, all of them staring at something across the room, out of sight.
A thought elbowed its way into his mind. He looked at Meeka. The expression on her face said she was thinking the same thing.
“Fire,” they chorused, as they ran to the door. Logan grabbed at Meeka’s arm, slowing her down.
“Watch out for guns.” They both stopped at the door—would they get shot if they charged straight in?
“That fire’s going to catch onto the house any minute,” Meeka pointed at the trees, her face desperate.
“We’ve got to get them all out,” Logan said. They banged the front door open and ran inside.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Cole could see from Nate and Poet’s faces that they were bursting with as many questions about the stranger as he was. He was about to speak when the front door banged open.
“Fire! Fire!” Logan and Meeka ran into the room, shouting.
Meeka yelled out, ran up to the stranger and flung herself at him, hugging him hard.
“Come see the fire,” she said and dragged him out onto the veranda and around the side of the house. Cole and the others followed. They all gasped when they saw the trees being swallowed up by the fire. The stranger pulled out his phone and made a call.
“You know how I called through for the police? We’re going to need the fire department as well. Send a monsoon bucket too,” he said.
After he hung up, he put his hands on Meeka’s shoulders.
“Where are your parents, Meeka?” he asked.
“They’re in Plymouth,” she said. The man breathed out a long sigh and rested his forehead on the top of her head.
“I thought they might be lying bleeding to death somewhere,” he said.
“Has anyone phoned them?” Cole asked.
“I sent Dad a text,” Nate said. He checked his phone for a message. “They’re on their way.”
“Who are you?” Cole asked the stranger.
“I’m Andrew, Meeka’s minder.”
That’s right—Cole remembered Meeka’s parents talking about her minder when they were deciding whether she could stay at their place. He had mentally grouped Meeka’s minder alongside nannies and babysitters when he was actually a bodyguard, and an expert marksman. Plus, he looked like Captain America.
“Let’s get everyone outside,” Andrew said, a frown appearing on his face as he glanced at the fire again.
“Who exactly are all you people? And what is going on?” asked Andrew as they dragged Oscar and Zach outside.
Cole introduced everyone then gave him a quick explanation, telling him about the coins being smuggled and the London guys down at the race-track.
“We need to get to the racetrack and stop those crooks from taking off,” Logan said after Cole had helped Jake sit down on the grass. Cole noticed that Logan refused to look at his father. He must be gutted. His father was a criminal! And just when he’d finally started acting like he really belonged in their family. This better not set him back.
Cole cracked his knuckles as he looked around, frowning. “The fire department will be here any minute,” he said, “then it’s going to be crazy. If we’re going to go, we need to go now. Logan could take his bike and I could use Alex’s. Maybe you could take the others in the van, Andrew.”
“Leave it to the police,” Andrew said, his eyebrows meeting in the middle. “You think these guys are serious,” he nodded at Oscar and Zach, who were now tied up in the middle of the lawn, “but I bet they’ll be amateurs compared to the guys from London. If they’re responsible for distributing those coins all across Europe, they’ll be part of some organised crime syndicate. There’ll be no discussion. It’ll be shoot on sight.”
Andrew headed inside to get Alex.
Cole glanced at Logan—had he even heard Andrew? “Don’t try anything stupid Logan,” he said.
“Come on Cole, those guys could get away. It’s just not right. We could have all died. Someone should go and stop them. Mr MacAdden could create some kind of delay so they’d still be there when the police turn up.”
“You heard Andrew. I bet he knows what he’s talking about. The guys at the racetrack are dangerous,” Cole lowered his voice and forced a smile. “Plus, I’m sick of being tied up.” Would Logan drop it?
“I’m going to go talk to Andrew about it again,” Logan said. Cole frowned as he watched Logan trail after Andrew, then he stepped over to look at Jake’s leg. What a mess! At least Jake had tried to save Nate. Logan needed to know that.
“Quick, help Andrew!” Logan called out to him, and disappeared inside the lodge.
Cole ran up to the door and saw Andrew doubled over on the floor, clutching his head. A broken vase was scattered around his body. Judging by the pieces it had been big and heavy.
“Alex jumped me. I think he took off in the van,” Andrew said. “Logan’s gone off after him on his bike. You’ll have to go—I’m seeing double. Try and stop Logan, he’ll get himself shot.”
Cole ran out the front to Alex’s motorbike. The key was still in the ignition, so he jumped on and raced after Logan.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Logan didn’t see the van between the house and the racetrack—Alex must have been rocketing. But as Logan skidded to a stop at the entrance to the track, he saw the van disappear behind a truck. It would be safer to ride a bit further down the road and climb through the hole in the fence he knew hadn’t been fixed yet.
He found the spot, left his bike in the ditch, climbed through the fence and headed towards the garden shed. From there he could see what was happening.
Cole appeared at the entrance gate, stopped and looked around. Mr MacAdden waved to him from his office, and Cole rode over to him, got off his bike and yelled at him to put down the main gate barrier arm and put up the tyre spikes. Mr MacAdden frowned at him, but headed indoors to the gate control, asking what was going on.
A man stepped out of a car parked near the office and came up behind them. Hopefully not a guard posted by the racing guys
?
He pulled out a gun and pointed it at Mr MacAdden. No!
“Best you ignore him, Mr Mac. If you want to see another day, that is. Inside, let’s get you boys tied up tight.”
Cole’s going to be mad—tied up again. Hopefully that’ll be the worst of it. What had Meeka’s minder, Andrew, said? It’d be shoot on sight with these guys. Logan had to get them out of there before that man became impatient.
Maybe he could use something out of the garden shed. The door to the shed faced the side of the office. Logan saw the man’s back leaning against the office window. If Logan was quick, the man wouldn’t notice him. Logan pulled out the paper clips, unlocked the door to the shed and ducked inside.
Logan considered his options as his eyes grew accustomed to the dark. Next to the shed door was a small window, which let in a sliver of light. There was a large bush growing in front of the shed, covering most of the shed wall. Mr MacAdden had told him it stopped the shed looking like an eyesore from the office. He could hide behind that if he needed to.
“Paint tins … wheelbarrow … rope. Just need a sky hook,” Logan whispered. Looking up, he saw a beam running across the centre of the shed. Perfect.
He tied a rope to the handle of a large paint tin, and threw the other end of the rope over the beam. He moved the wheelbarrow so it was under the beam, put the paint tin in the middle of the wheelbarrow, and threw the other end of the rope out the window. That should make enough noise.
Peering out the door, he saw the man still had his back towards the shed. Logan shot around the door, ducked behind the bush, and found the rope dangling out the window. He pulled on it, taking the weight of the full paint tin as it rose above the wheelbarrow. He let it drop.
Bang! Crash! He pulled on the rope again, raised the bucket, then let it drop again, and again. The man in the office peered out the window, looking frustrated at the noise. A minute later he stepped out of the office and marched over to the shed, cursing.
Once the man had stepped right inside the shed, Logan dived at the door, slamming it shut so it locked. He ran to the front of the office and stopped at the door to check the shed. Gunshots were going off as the man tried to shoot at the lock, but it wasn’t working. Only in the movies!