by Bill Carson
“Stay calm, he just wants out of here, same as us,” Nick whispered back.
“No, not this man. It’s time for me to say hello to Sarah Kane,” John said.
John turned and focused in on Harold’s throat. He figured if he could get close enough he would literally tear it out. He summoned up all of his remaining strength, screamed out with a disturbing high-pitched battle cry, and rushed at Harold with nothing but his bare hands and a fighting spirit – and would have made it if he had not been so badly weakened by such a serious wound in his stomach.
It was a gallant effort but was always doomed to fail. As he got to within a few feet of Harold, an explosive bullet went through the centre of his forehead, splitting open his skull. A fine red mist exploded from the back of his head and Anna and Nick were suddenly anointed with John’s blood, brain and bone matter.
They watched in horror as John’s body slowly crumpled to the ground at Harold’s feet, his vivid blue eyes wide open and staring back at them. Nick was sure he could see a faint smile playing around his lips, and was convinced that he’d mouthed something just before he went down. His body was still but his eyes remained locked with Nick’s. Anna shrieked out as Harold levelled the pistol at Nick’s head. Nick closed his eyes and waited for the sound that would end him.
The .338 Lapua Magnum high velocity round exited the barrel of the L115A3 British Army sniper rifle travelling at nine hundred yards per second and, as the target was at roughly twice that range, it would therefore take two seconds from trigger pull to target. It was a long shot by any stretch of the imagination, but when you’re the best in the business the extraordinary can sometimes be achieved. The first bullet struck Harold on the top of the head and gouged out a deep, neat, red groove the thickness of a snooker cue. An instant later the secondary bullet impacted an inch lower and removed the offending head entirely.
“Sayo-fucking-nara,” Ryan said, as he watched Harold’s head explode like a big fat water melon. He then strapped the rifle to his back and descended from his perch to wait for Inspector Lyons and the call from Doris Clarke.
“Get in you two and let’s get the hell out of here,” George shouted as he revved the engine. Anna and Nick climbed in the back and George put his foot flat to the floor.
I wouldn’t be surprised if there wasn’t a medal or two in this, Ryan thought as he waited for the police to arrive.
Half an hour later he halted the long column of police vehicles trundling along the park road. Lyons jumped out first and came running toward him.
“Stay back, Inspector, we have some unexploded ordnance over here and no one will be advancing beyond this point until the bomb squad has declared the area safe, is that understood?” Ryan shouted, as all vehicles suddenly came to a halt. Three large drones buzzed in right over their heads.
“It’s too late now, the party is over,” Ryan said, as he watched the drones skim over the tree tops.
“Well? Did you get them? That killer from the station and Kane, I mean?” Lyons asked as he marched toward Ryan.
“All the bad guys are dead, including the man who killed the police officers. I killed everyone here, including John Kane,” Ryan said as he swept the barrel of his rifle over the area.
“My God, what a mess! It looks like World War Three out here. And that hotel is going up like a Roman bloody candle. Jesus, look at it burn,” Lyons said.
“OK, my job is done here. Oh, and Inspector, you’ll find two more bodies by the gate,” Ryan said as he pointed toward the park entrance. He picked up his kit and went in search of the Mitsubishi. I wonder what state it’ll be in, he thought.
He eventually found the car where he’d left it five hours before. Despite being in the middle of a war zone, it had remained completely unscathed and its sleek lines gleamed in the early morning sunlight.
He glanced at his wristwatch and noted that if he put his foot down he’d just about make it back in time for an egg, bacon and sausage sandwich at the mess. The thought spurred him on and he quickly stowed his kit in the back, fired up the powerful engine and engaged first gear. He spun the wheels on the dew-soaked grass; the car drifted sideways and, as the tyres made contact with the road, they screeched like a wounded banshee as he changed into second gear.
He didn’t give the decapitated corpse of Harold Harper a second glance as he flew out of the gates. Five miles further along the A12 he shot past the old Land Rover. He stuck his arm out of the window and gave them all a devil’s hand sign as AC-DC’s ‘Shoot To Thrill’ blasted out of the cockpit.
Chapter 21
George coaxed the limping, hissing, grumbling, brilliant old Land Rover the last few feet into the yard behind the Royal Oak. He switched off the engine, stepped down from the driver’s seat, and tapped the bonnet of the beat up wagon.
“Knew you could do it, old gal,” he smiled.
Anna sluggishly followed him into the bar, while Nick bought in the holdall from Costa’s office and Harold Harper’s briefcase. He set them down as he flopped into the comfy old red leather Chesterfield sofa.
“I know it might be a silly question, but do you fancy a drink?” George said as he poured himself a double brandy.
“Pint of the usual I think,” Nick said quietly.
“I’ll have a cup of tea. It’s OK, I’ll make it, George,” Anna said.
George dumped a bar-towel full of ice cubes onto the table for Nick’s bruises, and they sat in silence in the safe, empty, wonderful pub. Anna snuggled up to Nick and sipped her hot sweet tea and they all simply sat and listened to the world going by outside. They said nothing, soaking up the familiar, friendly surroundings where they had spent many carefree evenings. The dreamlike moment was in stark contrast to where they had been a few hours beforehand. It was almost a miracle that they had survived at all, and the whole dreadful scenario now seemed like it had almost never happened. It was like some terrible nightmare that they had now suddenly awakened from.
“Hey, I’ve just thought, where did you get those old guns and grenades from?” Nick said suddenly.
“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you about that. It’s an interesting one. The office that we’ve rented used to belong to an old time gangster called Billy Hill. The boss of the underworld, they called him back in the 1950s. The basement of our office was a ‘spieler’, an illegal gambling den. They always had to be on their guard and were always tooled up, and those guns were part of their arsenal which was all left over from the Second World War. Army surplus stuff that they must have forgotten about. They’ve been there all those years. I looked it up on the internet when I found the false wall. Someone’s written a book about Hill and our address is actually mentioned in it.”
“Well here’s to ya, Billy Hill, wherever you are, mate,” Nick said as he raised his glass and took a huge glug of best bitter. “How about that? Trust me, an ex-copper renting an old gangster’s drum. Well, I reckon we should be shooting off now. We’ll get a cab from next door.”
Anna got up to organise that. Nick turned to George.
“Listen, mate, I haven’t said anything to you yet, but thanks for what you did. I am indebted to you. You are a true and loyal friend, George, in every sense of the word. No man could have a better one. I was so proud when I saw you standing there holding that bloody great gun, that took real guts, mate. What can I say, you’re a diamond, George,” Nick said.
“Diamond George, I like that. And anyway, you’d do it for me, wouldn’t you?” George said.
Nick didn’t answer but winked at him with his one good eye.
“Hey Nick, one for the road,” George said as he poured out two double Jack Daniel’s.
“Cheers George.”
They both stared at one another as they downed their drinks in one.
Anna came back in.
“Anna, before you go, can I just say that I have never met a braver person in all my life than you. She did it, Nick. I played my part but this little girl did it, mate. You should have seen her,
she never gave up. She is one in a bloody million, a real hero,” George said.
“Thanks, Georgie, but I couldn’t have done it without you,” Anna said as she gave him a big hug.
“Cab’s here, come on you, two,” Nick said as he hauled the holdall and the battered silver case into the back of the cab. “Hey, George, I’ll be around later to discuss a bit of business. Say no more, OK?”
George followed Nick and Anna outside and watched them get into the cab.
“OK, but, Nick, no more adventures for a while. Make it next week will ya? It’s gonna take me a while to get my head together.”
“All right, mate, no worries.”
“See ya now, and look after him, Anna. Make sure he doesn’t get into any more trouble.” George said, as he closed the door.
Throughout the short cab ride back to Hammersmith, Nick did not release Anna’s hand. In his heart he now knew that he truly loved her. She risked her life to save me, he thought as he stared at her.
“What? What is it?” she said as she snuggled into his shoulder.
“Nothing. Driver, can you take us to the Dorchester Hotel please?” Nick said.
“No, Nick, I’d rather not, and I think we’ve both had enough of hotels for a while. Let’s just go home and anyway, as soon as we get in I’m calling the doctor. You can’t go anywhere looking like that,” Anna said.
“I’m fine. It was just a couple of slaps. I’m sure I’ve had worse, love, but I suppose I haven’t seen my face yet have I? OK, driver, Hammersmith it is then.”
“You OK, sa? I will take you to hospital if you want,” the friendly cab driver said, whilst nodding with a big grin.
“No thanks, I think we’ll just head for home. Hammersmith Broadway please, mate.”
~~~~
Three weeks had passed since the battle at Costa’s hotel and things were starting to return to some form of normality. Apart from Anna and George reminiscing over the terrible scenario a few hundred times, the episode now seemed like a distant memory.
There were positives to be taken from their ordeal and one was that they’d all learned to appreciate their precious gift of life a little more nowadays, seeing as they were so close to having it taken away from them.
Nick, on the other hand, had consigned the whole unpleasant episode to the history books and had kept himself busy by spending Costa’s money, which had amounted to a little over a quarter of a million pounds. However, he kept that to himself, as he saw this as being on a ‘need to know’ basis.
Harold’s suitcase, unfortunately, had contained nothing but counterfeit bills and bad ones at that, and so he’d killed, maimed, tortured and subsequently died for a briefcase full of worthless pieces of paper. Anna had got some very nice eye-catching lavish jewellery out of it though, and Nick had bought George a brand new Land Rover from the proceeds. And not to be left out, Nick had decided to buy himself a new toy with his share. After a quick spin down to Brighton and back he parked the midnight blue XK8 Jaguar behind the huge Bentley that was parked in his spot outside his office.
“Here he is. All hail the conquering hero,” Simon McIntyre said, and bowed dramatically as Nick entered the office.
“Morning, Simon, good to see you,” Nick smiled as he removed his dark glasses.
“I just wanted to thank you in person after reading your incredibly detailed report. I must say, it made very interesting reading. I decided to bring the cheque to you in person rather than having the fees transferred into your account, as that would have been a little impersonal after such a daring adventure.”
“Well that’s very thoughtful, thank you.” Nick glanced over at Anna.
“Taking on all those gangsters single-handed and giving them their just deserts, you really have acted magnificently, Detective Harland. You should be commended for it, but I know you aren’t the type who would want any fuss,” Simon McIntyre said as he shook Nick’s hand.
“All in a day’s work, Simon, all in a day’s work, my son,” Nick said with a cheeky grin.
“Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time, and I’m sure you have a number of things you wish to do today. But whatever you do, make sure you enjoy the money because you really do deserve every penny of it. Goodbye and thank you. Bye Anna, and look after him, he’s a real hero, you know,” Simon said as he left.
“Thanks, Simon, but before you go, the cheque?” Nick asked as he followed him outside.
“Oh, I have given it to your partner, such a delightful girl. She was most interested in the report that you had sent me. Goodbye,” Simon said, as the Bentley silently rolled into the midday traffic.
Nick came back into the office and Anna was sitting behind his desk with a sheet of A4 paper in her hand. She started to read aloud.
“‘I went in alone that night having tracked down the fugitive to his hide-out where I acted in self-defence as a gun battle ensued with him and his desperate associates. I managed to eliminate them all and during the fire fight I shot and killed Harold Harper, the murderer of Mrs Macintyre.’ Do you want me to go on? And George will find this very interesting as well, I shouldn’t wonder,” she said.
“No, don’t you dare tell him, I’d never hear the bloody end of it. And it worked, didn’t it?” Nick said as he burst out laughing.
“Oh, and I suppose you’ll want this then?” Anna said, as she waved the slender slip of paper in the air. Nick snatched it from her hand, and swallowed hard as he looked at his name and all those zeros.
“Shit happens, Anna. A cool million, can you believe it?” he said as he glanced over at her and winked, and handed her back the cheque. “Stick that in the bank will you, mate? And then go out and treat yourself,” Nick said.
The money was absolutely fantastic but as far as Nick was concerned, there was still one more thing left to do to put an end to the strange affair, and to get closure before moving on.
Three weeks later at ten o'clock on a bright and blustery spring morning, the toll from the old brass bell of the ancient chapel eerily resonated around the monuments and crypts of the vast cemetery. Nick Harland waited patiently and alone by Sarah Kane’s grave as two old dears shuffled past him he turned his back to them to hide the carrier bag he was holding. John Kane’s identity had been discovered by using his dental records and on the orders of the police his body was cremated, Nick had decided to honour John’s last wish, and late one night with the help of his lock pick gun he managed to liberate the urn containing John’s ashes from the crematorium.
It was hard not to shed a tear for John Kane. He was a good man, and through no fault of his own, had become a terribly tortured creature that simply could not rest after the brutal and senseless murder of his wife. He had taken it upon himself to administer his own kind of true justice as much for others as for himself.
The abject failure of the British justice system had put him over the edge. Left helpless and alone with his thoughts, he’d generated a fury seldom seen in an individual. He’d waged war against the uncaring, cold, faceless establishment that in his eyes had failed him, Sarah, Lynda Jackson and numerous others.
Nick had always felt a measure of sympathy for individuals who thought this way, as it takes immense courage to go it alone and take on the world to ‘put things right’. At the end John Kane had in fact sacrificed himself, and if it wasn’t for his timely suicidal attack Nick would have definitely been occupying a nearby hole in the ground as well. But he was alive, and John Kane wasn’t, and the disturbing episode had changed Nick’s outlook on life for good.
Nick looked about him and thought about the thousands of dead inhabitants beneath him. They were all living breathing beings at one time, all full of life with hopes, fears and dreams, he thought as he scanned the multitude of graves. He continued to study the neat rows of countless headstones and wondered when his time would come. He then gazed up at the spindly, wind-tossed clouds, like soft white brush marks across a canvas of a washed-out azure sky. As he knelt and began to dig into the
earth of Sarah’s grave with a small gardening trowel a swift, strong, cold breeze suddenly swept in out of nowhere, and swished through the new growth of fresh green leaves on the branches of the large horse chestnut tree above him. He took the urn from the carrier bag, had a quick look around and poured the dust into the hole and quickly covered John’s ashes with the soft earth.
Nick stood and shook his head and sighed.
“Rest in peace, John Kane, your war is over,” he said as he walked away.
The End
Rhyming Slang Glossary
Adam and Eve = believe
Acker Bilk = milk
Biscuits and cheese = knees
Battle cruiser = boozer = pub
Bat and wickets = tickets
Bonce = top of the head