The Financial Terrorist

by John Gubert

  A siren sounded in the distance. The officer on the phone added, “There’s a car in your vicinity. They’ll be with you soon. We’ll have ambulances over there in ten minutes and more back-up.”

  The panda car drove up the lane and two policemen jumped out. They saw their guns and stopped in fright. Charles put his away and Claire did the same. Jacqui couldn’t without letting go of Juliet. And that was impossible.

  “It’s all right,” called Charles. “We’re not going to attack anyone. Those are for self defence and are perfectly legal.”

  Without waiting for an answer, he made another call. This time it was to a lawyer. Jeremy Reynolds practised in the firm that bore his and his wife’s maiden name. Reynolds and Rayburn were established solicitors and were based in Chancery Lane at the edge of the City. They were Charles’ solicitors. They ran a genuine operation, Charles gave them half their business. They had the right contacts and that would be important now. They were also always available, that was part of the deal.

  Reynolds would automatically get in touch with Commander Delaney at the Home Office. Delaney was father to Carrie, one of Charles’ oldest friends. More important, he knew enough about Charles’ shady background, or, as he said, enough to be useful and too little to put him inside. He was aware of Jacqui’s past. He would realise that they should avoid publicity. It would be dangerous, there could always be copycat attempts.

  The police started to take statements. Charles suggested they should do that back at the house. “The kid is in shock. We’re all freezing and wet. I don’t think we need to stand here. It is clear we have admitted to shooting these people in self-defence. So you know how they died. The question for you will be whether we have committed an offence or not.”

  One of the policemen, an Inspector, agreed. “We’ll have forensics and CID here soon. They’ll go over the area and take the bodies to the morgue. I should take your guns, but I believe you can show the permits at your house. So two of my men will go with you and check them out. I’m afraid we’ll have to keep an eye on your house and ask you to stay indoors. I’ll have to contact my senior officers.”

  Charles didn’t want to tell him that his senior officers had most likely already been contacted. He wondered what the outcome would be. He was relatively relaxed that they wouldn’t be charged, but he was more concerned that there should be no publicity.

  They walked back to the cottage, accompanied by the two cops. Jacqui still cuddled Juliet. The nanny looked shocked when they arrived, but like all Mafia nannies, was calm and attentive. Jacqui said she would get the permits. She passed Juliet to Charles. He noticed she clung to him as eagerly as she did to Jacqui. He thought of her look of despair when he had not helped her earlier. That seemed forgotten, at least for the moment.

  Jacqui and Claire returned with the papers and the police appeared satisfied.

  “Please stay inside,” said Jacqui, “we’ll get you some coffee. There’s no point in waiting in the rain.”

  Half an hour later another car drew up outside. Three plain clothed men stepped out. A uniformed driver remained at the wheel. It was obvious that the three were policemen. Their short hair and upright walk alone showed that. They were all in their late forties and early fifties. And the policemen in the house looked astonished that they should be there.

  Claire let them in. A tall and distinguished looking one turned to them. “I’m the Deputy Chief Constable. I’ve been talking to the Home Office, the Commander, this morning. You must be Mr Rossi.”

  He turned to Jacqui and said, “Mrs Rossi.” He looked at Claire and said, “Miss Claire Maine.” He then continued, “We will need to have full details of the events that led up to the shooting. We have the outline. We will be able to identify where you crossed the field as the ground was so soft, and we’ll have a fairly good story from there. The Home Office will advise us what story we should put out. I understand they are concerned that your identities are protected. When would it be convenient to interview you, Mr Rossi?”

  “You can do it soon as you want to. Better to do it now while the events are fresh in our minds.”

  “My colleague, Chief Inspector Gay, will do the interviews. May we record you?”

  Charles nodded, “I assume you will ask us to confirm the tapes are accurate once they’re typed up.”

  He agreed. Then he took them one after another into the other room and asked about events. Two hours later the interviews had been completed and the police left, together.

  The phone rang later that afternoon. It was Reynolds. “The Commander has just confirmed everything with the Home Secretary. The police will publicise the shooting of three men in the lane. They will say there was evidence that the men had recently come off a ferry at Newhaven. That’s down the road from you, that’s fairly credible. Usual cover story I’m afraid. They’ll say it’s to do with drugs. They’ll say that some locals found the bodies. That way, if you were seen near the scene, you have cover.”

  “I assume they won’t identify us.”

  “No way. As usual, we had advised the Commander about the incidents in the USA and the threat to Jacqui and Juliet. He is very concerned. He really has a soft spot for you all. Mind you he pretends it’s all professional interest. You did yourself a good turn those years ago, saving his daughter’s life.”

  Reynolds was referring to the fact that Carrie Delaney had been a drug addict until Charles managed to get her to a clinic for a detox. Her father hadn’t been able to do that and they had become estranged. But after the clinic they’d got together again. Since then, she had married and had a child. The marriage hadn’t worked. Her ex- husband hadn’t liked it when he discovered he didn’t know about bits of her sordid past. Mind you, not many people did.

  “Are you going to tighten up security?” asked Reynolds.

  “We’ve got Maria coming down later tomorrow. Claire’s with us. Inside we can look after ourselves and we’ll be careful outside. There’s little more we can do.”

  Charles was fairly relaxed. Whoever was behind the incident would not try again soon. Not if they’d lost three men.

  “Can you keep tabs on the investigation?” Charles asked Reynolds. “I would like to know who the men were. They had nothing to identify them.”

  “Don’t worry. The police have already said they will want to check out any identities they establish with you. They also want to know if you can help with any connection.”

  Charles kept his thoughts about Di Maglio to himself. He wanted to test them out first on the others, but he would not do that until he had more information and then only if it confirmed his suspicions.

  They kept the doors well locked and bolted that afternoon. It started to pour with rain, in any case, so there was no point in trying to go out. As the night drew in they checked all the windows were locked. The chances of an attempt to get at them in the house were remote, but they had learnt long ago that all precautions were good precautions.

  Juliet seemed to have got over her shock. She played with the toys she had brought with her. She ran up to all of them at one time or another. She and the nanny seemed to get on well. Charles looked at the latter’s chubby figure.

  She had got over the surprise of their sudden return and, like all Mafia women, did not question the incident. They learn that, almost at birth. In cases like this, you get told what you need to know. And if you’re not told, that means that you don’t ask. Information is power in many walks of life. In the Mafia, it may be the difference between living and dying and, if you know too much, you can die.

  Claire discussed the whole series of attacks once Juliet had gone to bed. “This is mad. I’ve never seen anything like this before. We’ve had the attack in New York. They tried to kill the driver although he was an accomplice. That was ruthless. The attack was inept. Then we had the bomb. That was meant to scare. Then there was the freeway attack. That was meant to scare. Then there was the kidnap attempt in the hotel. That
was bizarre. The women failed and at least one was executed. Then there was the fiasco at the airport. Three against one and they screwed it up! Now we’ve had this. It was stupid, too. And three are now dead in an ambush against three, taken by surprise. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “I don’t get one thing,” said Jacqui. “Their intelligence is first rate. They know the areas we frequent. They even knew today about the short cut we would take. They knew we were to go to the farm. They knew where we would join the lane. That’s pretty good. And it’s been good all the time. They must have an inside track.”

  “True,” said Claire. “But they act in an inept fashion. The women in the hotel should have got out. A professional wouldn’t hang around. The attack in New York could have been more effective. The guys today were third rate. It’s almost as if they planned the attacks to fail.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Charles chimed in. “The kidnappers should have opened fire on us. They were on a loser once they let us draw our guns. A professional would have shot us, at least wounded us and asked questions later.”

  “Your father-in-law thinks it’s the Russians,” said Claire. “What if he’s wrong? Who else could it be?”

  “Nobody in the City,” said Charles. “They have no experience in this sort of attack. In any event, there’s no way they would have attacked in California and here.”

  “It could be someone associated with my father” suggested Jacqui. “Perhaps someone, who wants to reveal their hand later. Kidnap Juliet and use her as a ploy to get their own way.”

  “That’s not too convincing. If he revealed himself and harmed Juliet, he’d be dead. If he let her go, he’d die too. If he’s an insider, the act of betrayal justifies that according to the code.”

  “There are three people who know enough about the US and here to organise things,” Charles said, thoughtfully. “Maria knew all our details and she knows this place.”

  “But she didn’t organise the car in New York. I did, when my father offered to make it available,” said Jacqui. “And we changed flights to California and didn’t tell her.”

  “And you booked yourself for Washington,” reminded Claire.

  “Who else knew?” asked Jacqui.

  “Giovanni knew.”

  “But he’s never been here.”

  “Yes, but I mentioned to him we’d be spending the weekend here. I’m pretty sure I did. We chatted a bit in Washington and New York.”

  “Well, he is a suspect then,” said Claire. “Who was the third?”

  “Your father, Jacqui,” said Charles hesitatingly. He had not wanted to bring this option up so early, but had no alternative. He didn’t know how she’d react.

  She started. Then she frowned. “He came here on one of his trips. He was leaving from Gatwick and we spent a day here before his flight. He knew everything else. He’s a suspect too,” she said.

  “I could be a suspect,” said Claire.

  “You didn’t know we were in New York until Di Maglio told you to guard us. Unless of course you were working for him and he had told you. And you didn’t know where we were going today. You had no idea where the farm was. Maria’s not been here before, so she could not have told you. And you have been too aggressive, lethally so, with our attackers to have been part of a plot, in all the clashes we’ve had. We’ll count you out.”

  She nodded. “That’s logical. So we have two suspects. They are Giovanni and Di Maglio. I don’t believe it’s either of them. But we have to be wary. I think we’re looking at it the wrong way, we’re missing something.”

  “Look. We’re not going to find out tonight. The answer is to be vigilant. I doubt the police will be able to trace the gunmen. We better keep quiet in future about our movements.”

  “True,” said Jacqui. “How about a night-cap and then let’s go to bed So after another glass of wine, they all headed off to bed under the protective thatch of their cottage, hidden in the normally peaceful South of England hills.

  CHAPTER NINE

  They both woke up with a start. The noise was strange. Charles glanced at his watch. Half past three. Someone was moving in the house, and they were trying to move as quietly as possible. That was not easy, the house was old and the floorboards creaked. Charles grabbed his clothes. Jacqui pulled on her jeans and a sweater.

  They both took their guns. Old habits die hard. They were near their bed, that was their normal place. Exchanging worried looks, they crept out. The floorboards in their room were as creaky in the quiet of the night as the ones elsewhere in the house. If someone were there, they must have been heard.

  As Charles eased along the hall, Jacqui glided carefully behind him. The noise was coming from downstairs. Someone was moving about down there. There was a creak from the guest bedroom where Claire was sleeping. Charles covered the door with his gun. It opened slowly to reveal Claire in a velvet track suit, bare feet, and tousled hair, gun in hand.

  He pointed downstairs. She nodded. Jacqui indicated the third bedroom. The door was closed. They had looked in on the way to bed. They wouldn’t have closed it, it was always slightly open. Jacqui moved towards the door. Claire moved to the other side. They didn’t hear the knob turn. Jacqui threw the door open. Claire was covering the room with her gun.

  “It’s empty,” gasped Jacqui, although she already knew. She looked at Charles in panic. Her hand went to her head. Then she pointed again downstairs. Charles and Claire were already one step ahead of her gesture and making their way down. The stairs creaked too much. Charles realised that, if someone was still there, there could be no element of surprise.

  “Storm it,” said Claire as if she had read his thoughts.

  They ran down the remaining stairs and sprung into the lounge. Empty. They moved over to the dining room. Empty as well. Claire swooped into the kitchen. There was a rear door from there leading into the walled garden. They both were peering through. There was nothing visible. Claire opened the door. She crouched and studied the garden. The trees threw shadows across the lawn. The clouds covered the moon intermittently. There was no movement. Nobody was there.

  They turned and moved to the front of the house. As they got back into the kitchen, there was a scream and then the crash of glass. There were shouts and then a gun fired. Then there was silence. Then a gun fired again. Once. Twice. Then there was the crashing of wood. Then there was nothing.

  Charles tripped over her as he went through the lounge. He stopped and put a hand on her body. She was breathing. The hand felt hot and sticky, it was blood. Jacqui had been shot. He waited there for seconds until suddenly she spoke, “I’ve been hit. I’m all right. It’s nothing bad. I didn’t see them and they hit me. They’ve got Juliet. Get her back.”

  Claire called from the front of the house, “There’re getting into a car. There are three of them. One’s a woman.”

  Charles sprang towards her voice. The hall door had been shot down. Whoever had kidnapped Juliet had needed to shoot their way out. They had locked the door from the inside and they had had to shoot the lock.

  Claire was running down the drive. Charles followed her. They had no shoes and the sharp gravel of the drive cut into their feet. He felt the cold whip through his open shirt. Claire was ahead of him. She vaulted the gate and ran out into the road. He was there seconds later.

  A blue Mercedes was drawing away from them. They fired low. They hit the wheels and the left rear tyre. It blew and the car skidded at the shock. They could hear the grinding of the hubcap as it tore against the hard surface of the road. Claire motioned for him to take cover. She moved across the road and sought refuge by the hedgerow that marked the edge of the field. Charles kicked open the gate and took cover there.

  A woman got out of the car. Charles peered in the darkness. It was a young girl. The plump dark features were familiar. It was the nanny. “The brat dies if you make any attempt to save her. We mean business,” she called out.

  Charles wait
ed. They needed to know the odds. Claire would do nothing until she knew that. A man followed. He had a lifeless bundle under his arm. They recognised it as Juliet. They must have drugged her. He thought that would not have been too hard if the nanny was part of the conspiracy.

  Another man got out of the front of the car. He carried an automatic of some sort and pointed it at them. “Try that again and the kid will die, before you. This is no longer to scare you. It’s the real thing.” He turned to the other man, “Change the wheel.” All the while he kept them covered. It was no use. The man knew what he was doing. There was no way they would be able to storm them. The girl had now placed Juliet back in the car and she too was holding a gun. They could shoot the man changing the wheel but they would then be shot themselves.

  Then the one behind the car shouted out, “Call the Police and we’ll know. We track their radios. We’ll kill the kid, dump her, torch the car and disappear. Follow us and we’ll hurt the kid; really annoy us and we kill her, then you and then the blond.”

  Charles didn’t reply but started walking back to the gate. “Hold it,” shouted one of the men.

  “I’m going back to my wife. She’s been shot. I don’t want her to bleed to death. You’ve won this round but you’ll not win the next. I’ll see you all dead first.”

  Claire stayed put. She was wary. Would they shoot at him? But he’d been through their games before. They’d shot Jacqui, it was true, but not to kill. Someone had been forced to fire at her to stop her. But they had aimed high. They’d hit her in the shoulder or the arm. They’d not aimed for the stomach or the heart. These guys wanted them alive.

  He opened the gate and went in. He left it open and Claire darted after him. They ran up the drive. “Watch the door, while I check out Jacqui.”

  When Jacqui saw him, she sobbed, “Where’s Juliet?”

  “There’s no way we can get her but we need to trail them. We tried to shoot out the tyres, but we only hit one. So they’re going to use the spare. It’ll take them a few minutes to change the wheel. We’ll track them, but are you all right?”