Underdogs

by Jack Fiske

  “O.k.” he nodded. “Take this.” He thrust the revolver into Susan’s free hand – the other was still holding the chain. “I’ll take Millie.”

  There was time for one meaningful look into Susan’s eyes and then they split, running in opposite directions.

  Archie heard another shot ring out ahead of him and he cursed to himself that he only had the revolver. He rounded a bend in the track and fleetingly caught sight of Susan in the distance as she crossed the track at an oblique angle and disappeared into the trees. Behind her, still dodging around the undergrowth, two men followed at a run. The one in front moved quickly, carrying a rifle in front of his body, whilst behind him a large man lumbered along trying to keep up.

  Archie waited for them to cross the track and then he also turned right, heading into the trees. The chase was coming this way and if he could get through the undergrowth and brambles that tore at his legs, he might cut them off. Ahead of him another rifle shot rang out, nearer this time. Archie altered the angle he was taking and skirted round a particularly large patch of tangled undergrowth, swearing when he couldn’t find a way through to where he needed to be.

  Susan looked back over her shoulder as she ran. Her heart was pounding and she gasped for breath. Her ankle was raw where the chain was still locked around it and she knew that her pace was slowing. Through the trees she caught a glimpse of the man behind her and knew that she couldn’t outrun him. As she turned back, her feet were jerked out from under her and she pitched headlong onto the ground, the chain round her ankle caught fast on a tree root. The gun bounced out of her hand and slid across the dirt in front of her. Susan pushed herself up on hands and knees and screwed up her face in pain. Her ankle was agony, but she knew she had to get up and keep going. She wrenched at the chain, dislodging it from where it had caught and stumbled forwards towards the gun, but it was too late. Bryant was already there, the rifle raised to his shoulder, its barrel pointing straight at her chest.

  Susan closed her eyes and waited for the shot.

  It didn’t come. Instead, she heard the sound of Archie Long screaming like a banshee as he charged across open ground, hurdling over bushes and undergrowth and weaving from left to right.

  Bryant turned in his direction and raised the rifle. He fired once, then again, and then a third time. Archie kept coming; he was still too far away to make a shot from the revolver count.

  The fourth shot caught him in the upper left arm, spinning him off his feet. He crashed down behind a clump of ferns and as Bryant turned back to Susan, she lunged for the gun that lay just feet in front of her.

  Before either could complete the action, Archie was up again, running at Bryant and bellowing, half in anger and half in pain.

  Bryant was caught in a moment of indecision and then it was too late. Archie was in range. He lifted the revolver and fired three times as he ran. All three shots hit. The first two centre mass in the middle of Bryant’s chest and the third in his shoulder as he went down. Archie dropped at the same time, sliding onto his stomach behind what ground cover there was, as John’O lumbered into view.

  Archie blinked, trying to clear his vision. His left arm hung limply at an odd angle and the whole of his left side was numb.

  “Stand still!” he shouted, in what was supposed to be a voice of authority, but he had difficulty putting any volume behind it. He could feel blood running down the inside of his sleeve and he knew that he needed to act quickly before he was too weak to do anything.

  The man facing Susan was big – over six feet and heavily built. He had a gun in one hand, but seemed to be in shock at the sight of his friend lying there on the ground.

  “Drop the gun!” Archie shouted again from cover, his voice breaking slightly.

  The big man looked round, unsure where the command had come from and Archie squeezed off another shot, which kicked up a shower of leaf mould two feet to his left. The man dropped the gun and slowly raised his hands. Archie was relieved to see Susan pick up the familiar looking revolver that was still on the ground in front of her and turn to point it at her pursuer.

  Archie hauled himself upright and stumbled towards the two of them. As he reached Susan’s side, his legs suddenly gave way and he dropped into a sitting position on the ground.

  “If he moves, shoot him,” he managed to say in a slurred voice and then keeled over sideways.

  O’Hara stood behind a well covered Holly tree and smiled slightly to himself as he watched Jim Turner and Millie weaving through the trees in the distance. Less than a minute later Quinn followed, closing fast, with Walker a little way behind.

  O’Hara checked his gun, put it back into its shoulder holster and jogged after them.

  Jim looked over his shoulder, trying to judge how much distance they had on their pursuers, as he and Millie tried to circle back towards the road. They’d gained ground after he and Susan had split up, but the men behind were closing again. Jim was sure there were only two of them, but he was also sure that they were both armed and he wasn’t. The best he could do was a fallen branch, which he’d picked up as they passed a beech tree. This he carried in his free hand, the other holding tightly onto Millie.

  Shots rang out in the distance, sending birds screaming into the air from the taller trees. Jim screwed up his face at the thought of what it might mean and glanced down at his daughter. Millie was tiring badly and he was dragging her along now. At a thick patch of gorse and bracken, he turned sharply right and they disappeared momentarily behind a mass of birch trees. Jim stopped and put a finger to his lips, signalling Millie to be quiet, or as quiet as they could while they both sucked in air. For a moment, he thought they’d lost them and then through the trees, he saw the two men still coming.

  Ahead of them was a steep bank; a narrow footbath running along the bottom of it.

  “Quick,” Jim whispered. “Up the bank and wait for me at the top.”

  “No,” Millie whispered back, eyes wide with fear.

  “Yes!” Jim insisted. “You have to.” He pushed her firmly in the back and after a moment’s hesitation, shaking her head from side to side, she turned and scrambled up the dry earth, disappearing from sight over the top.

  Jim took cover behind the trunk of an ash, the broken branch raised above his head, hoping that one of the pursuers would pass close enough to make it effective.

  Suddenly, from beyond the top of the bank, there was a high pitched scream that tore at Jim’s insides and then silence. Abandoning his position, he sprinted forward, up the bank and over the top. Thirty yards further on a man stood facing him, his left arm wrapped around Millie, who stood squarely in front of him, the man’s left hand clamped over her mouth. In his right hand the man held an automatic pistol pointing down at the ground. The light was fading fast and the man’s face was in shadow. Jim lifted the stick, changed it to his other hand and walked towards him. It was O’Hara. This was it. Jim could feel his heart hammering in his chest. O’Hara lifted the pistol, his arm tightening around Millie’s throat, preventing her from getting away despite her struggles. Jim started to run at them as the pistol came up, pointing straight at him. O’Hara fired. The bullet was so close that Jim heard it whine as it passed his ear. The second was inches to his right and Jim heard a familiar thud as one of them found a target of flesh and blood behind him. He whirled round, just in time to see the look of surprise on Quinn’s face as his legs buckled beneath him before a third shot blew away the right side of his face. Suddenly, O’Hara was past him and Millie was in his arms, her face buried in his chest as she clung to him in terror.

  O’Hara leant calmly over Quinn and picked up the fallen rifle. “Look away,” he said, and Jim twisted round so that Millie faced in the other direction.

  At the bottom of the bank Jim could see Walker, frozen in mid stride, caught in the middle of open ground. As he saw O’Hara standing on top of the bank, he suddenly realised that the shots hadn’t come from Bryant and he half turned to his left, before a single s
hot from the rifle knocked him off his feet. O’Hara took another pace forward and looked down the sights. He fired twice more and Walker’s body jumped with the impact of the bullets passing through it.

  O’Hara turned back to Jim and Millie, pulling the automatic from his belt where he had lodged it. He worked the action, ejecting a round from the chamber and then slid the gun back into its holster beneath his arm.

  “Are you o.k?” O’Hara asked, standing beside Jim who had both arms wrapped around his daughter.

  “Are we safe?” Jim asked.

  “Quite safe,” O’Hara replied, holding out a hand.

  Jim took it and the two men shook. O’Hara had a firm grip and looked different somehow.

  Jim hesitated for a moment, still gripping O’Hara’s hand in his. He had to know, so he just asked.

  “Are you IRA?”

  “Yes. IRA,” O’Hara said simply.

  “And you know who I am?” Jim asked.

  “Yes, we know who you are.” O’Hara smiled. This time the smile touched his eyes and he put a hand gently on Millie’s head.

  “It seems we’re all on the same side now.”

  In the distance, Jim could hear the familiar whap, whap of helicopter blades and the radio at O’Hara’s waist suddenly crackled into life. O’Hara lifted it to his ear and then handed it to Jim.

  “It’s Ness. He’s with your wife. She’s fine.”

  EPILOGUE

  It was Thursday afternoon and the sun streamed in through the window behind Archie Long’s bed. His left arm was in plaster and he couldn’t help feeling that he’d been here before, although the last time it hadn’t been him in the hospital bed.

  At least there weren’t bars at the window. Private medical insurance that came with the job meant a comfortable room in a BUPA hospital, satellite television and an attractive brunette with nice legs who checked up on him periodically.

  There was a knock at the door and it was pushed open slowly. Jim’s head appeared round the corner.

  “Are you allowed visitors?” he asked, looking round the room.

  “Do you come bearing gifts?” Archie asked.

  Jim held up a plastic bag. “Grapes and a bottle of Lucozade.”

  “Come in then,” Archie agreed.

  Jim strode over to the bed and gripped his friend’s hand.

  “Thanks Archie.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Archie said. “Any time.”

  “Really?”

  Archie grinned. “No, not really. The arm’s bloody sore. Just try to keep out of trouble in future.”

  Jim pulled up a chair and the two settled down to a frank discussion, which if Armstrong had been there, he would have put a stop to immediately. Archie had been debriefed just a few hours earlier and was able to bring Jim up to date with events since they’d left Henson’s Farm, Jim under his own steam and Archie unconscious in an ambulance.

  Of the eight kidnappers, four were dead – Clarke shot by Jim himself, Bryant by Archie and Walker and Quinn by O’Hara.

  Realising he was in it up to his neck, John’O had decided to co-operate and as a result, Spencer, Dunn and Kenny were picked up on the M4 by the police. Spencer was still in hospital and hadn’t regained consciousness, but the hospital thought that he would pull through.

  Johnny Miller had been picked up in Southampton and the fake K2 driver recovered from the lockers at Southampton Bus Station. Flores didn’t seem to exist, or if he did, he’d covered his tracks completely. No one knew his real name or his whereabouts and the Southampton police were still trying to track him down.

  O’Hara, it turned out, was playing it straight with The Firm and didn’t know anything about David Garrett. The fact that Armstrong knew O’Hara was there to do more than just recover the K2 equipment, combined with the unacceptable consequences of a leak, meant that there was a cover up on the whole affair. Garrett had been released and was now back in Northern Ireland, together with the missing detector unit, which had been recovered from Walker’s BMW on the M4.

  “So what about O’Hara?” Jim asked.

  “Gone as well,” Archie confirmed. “I hear he saved your skin.”

  “He certainly did,” Jim agreed. “It was quite a surprise. I was convinced I was still on their hit list, along with Quinn and Walker.”

  “Has Armstrong spoken to you?” Archie asked.

  “No. Why?”

  “He will do. You needn’t worry about charges being brought against you for Clarke and Spencer. It’ll never be the subject of any inquest.”

  “Are you sure?” Jim said, looking slightly doubtful.

  “Absolutely.” Archie nodded. “Armstrong’s got some other news for you as well. Sean Patrick is a very powerful man within Sinn Fein. It seems he’s rather relieved to have this affair cleared up. He’s put the word out in no uncertain terms that you’re no longer a target.”

  Jim looked at him blankly whilst it sank in.

  Archie punched him in the arm with his good hand and grinned. “Hey, you’ll have to change your name again and you’ll be able to go back to your old job.”

  Jim snorted. “Up yours! If you think I’m going back to that, you’ve got another thing coming.”

  Despite himself, he smiled at the thought of it.

  “Actually Archie, that’s the best news I’ve had for a long time. You know, it always worried me that they’d catch up with me eventually. Knowing that you’re putting your wife and daughter at risk just by being there can screw you up you know.”

  “Well you can forget it. They have caught up with you and now you can put it all behind you.”

  Jim nodded.

  “Anyway, what about you?” he asked, changing the subject. “How are you feeling?”

  “Oh I’ll be fine,” Archie said. “I’ve got four weeks off on full pay and I’ll be out of here by the end of the week.”

  “That’s bad,” Jim said seriously.

  “How?”

  He laughed. “No overtime. You’ll have to cut back you know.”

  Archie grinned. “Not true my friend. I’m not the same man that you used to work with. If I can avoid doing the overtime, then so much the better. In fact, if I was honest with you, I think I’m getting too old for all of this. What I need is a nice nine-to-five desk job somewhere in the civil service.”

  Jim stroked his chin thoughtfully.

  “Hmmm. Tell me Archie. What do you know about computers?”

  A note from the author.

  Thank you for taking the time to read ‘Underdogs’, I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, could I ask you to consider leaving a review of the book on the site that you obtained it from?

  Reviews can be an extremely valuable source of feedback. They help an author to refine his work and also, where a book has a number of reviews, it can help to promote the book to a wider audience.

  If you do choose to leave a review – thank you, it is very much appreciated.

  Regards.

  Jack.

  ALSO BY JACK FISKE

  Salute the Magpie

  It was supposed to be an easy job. A penthouse flat in an empty building. Ten minutes work to get in and get out, then away into the night with some easy money, a piece of jewellery or whatever else Ben could lay his hands on. However, what neither Ben Collins nor Gary Thompson expected were the class A drugs, the half naked girl lying unconscious on the bed, both of them falling foul of one of the most dangerous men in London, or the involvement of ‘The Vicar’.

  A Goose for Christmas

  For Semmin, it was serious. Half a dozen birds lost to the weather and now a challenge to his leadership that he couldn’t ignore.

  For Padge, it was considerably worse. Injured at the height of the storm, separated from his mate, and now unable to fly for more than a few hundred yards. Had Junor survived? How badly was she hurt and where would she go? Can he find her while there’s still time and if so, what hope do they have of rejoining the flock and completing their winter migrat
ion?

  Jump Start (A collection of short stories).

  Meet Jacob and Efrem, two prisoners of war, who are required to perform an unusual task.

  Find out what happens when an undercover operation in North Belfast goes seriously wrong.

  Discover why Roxanne De Garis would agree to a date with David Stewart and how on earth he can afford to hire a chauffeur and a vintage Bentley for the evening.

  Go foraging with Padge and Junor, two Greylag Geese, on the fjords of Iceland.

  Spend a little time with Ben Collins and Gary Thompson, two teenagers locked up for the first time in Cranmore Young Offenders Institution.

  Other titles by Jack Fiske are available via the following links

  Underdogs

  PAPERBACK

  E-BOOK (UK)

  E-BOOK (USA)

  Salute the Magpie

  PAPERBACK

  E-BOOK (UK)

  E-BOOK (USA)

  A Goose for Christmas

  PAPERBACK

  E-BOOK (UK)

  E-BOOK (USA)

  Jump Start

  PAPERBACK

  E-BOOK (UK)

  E-BOOK (USA)