The Heist

by Shaun Jeffrey

  “Why?” Rogers snarled.

  “Because it does. Why else use the puzzle? The only two letter words I can see are ‘to’, ‘me’, ‘it’ and ‘do’. Write the words down we’ve come up with and see what we have, then see what you’re left with if you take those letters out.”

  Rogers started writing. Eventually he looked up. “There’s only one thing I can see that makes sense.”

  “Spit it out then,” Conner said.

  Rogers swallowed and wiped rainwater from his bald head. “Time to die.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Conner scanned his surroundings. He sucked his top lip in and wiped the rainwater from his eyes.

  “What’s that mean?” Rogers asked.

  “It means we’re being fucked over by Armstrong.”

  Before Rogers could reply a bullet tore through his head and he dropped behind the car, a red miasma hovering in the air where he had stood. A second later the sound of the gunshot reached them

  “Fuck,” Conner said as he dived to the ground, taking Caleb with him.

  Emma stared open-mouthed, shaking her head as though to dispel what she had witnessed.

  Kurt ran across and grabbed her. “Get behind the car,” he shouted to Conner, pulling Emma along behind him.

  As the bullet seemed to have entered Rogers’ head from the front, the shooter must have been on the driver’s side of the car, so he felt safer on the passenger side. As he ran around and pushed Emma down to hunker against the wing, he saw Rogers sprawled across the ground, his head tilted aside, a big exit hole at the back of his scalp that made him queasy to look at. The smell of blood filled the air, red spots splattered across the ground, growing pink as the rain diluted them. Emma averted her gaze and shielded Caleb as Conner pushed him towards her.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Conner asked.

  “I should think that’s obvious. Armstrong wants the money for himself.” Kurt’s heart raced. He was breathing fast, making him a little faint. He peered over the bonnet but couldn’t see anyone. Less than ten feet away he spotted the gun and knife Conner relieved him of. Although he was taking a risk, he realised he’d be better off armed. As things stood, they were a sitting target. “Wait here.”

  “Where are you going?” Emma asked, her eyes wide.

  “I’m going to get the gun.”

  “No, you’re not,” Conner said as he pressed the barrel of his own weapon against Kurt’s head.

  “Look, if we’re both armed we’ll have a better chance of surviving. We need to work together.”

  “And you think I’ll trust you not to shoot me?”

  “I think we’ll trust each other with equal measure. Now we’re wasting time. If you’re going to shoot me, then do so, but I’m going for the gun.” Heart in his mouth, he scuttled around the car, relieved when he didn’t hear a shot and feel the pain of a bullet striking him. He grabbed the gun and the knife and scurried back behind cover.

  “Can you use it?” Conner asked.

  “I can pull a trigger.”

  Conner nodded. “Then let’s hope you get close enough.”

  “Dad, what’s going on?” Caleb asked between sobs.

  Kurt stroked his son’s head. Again, no point lying. “We’re in trouble, but I’m going to do everything I can to get us out of this mess.”

  Caleb smiled through his tears, but the expression faded as quickly as it appeared.

  A cold chill settled in Kurt’s stomach. If Armstrong was here now, he would quite easily kill him without a second thought. He tightened his grip on the gun and put the knife back into the sheath in his pocket.

  “So now what do we do?” Conner asked.

  Kurt leaned against the car as he tried to think. Armstrong obviously had a good view of them from wherever he was, probably at a higher vantage point. Cautiously he peered over the bonnet of the car and a bullet whined off the metal, leaving a straight gash in the paintwork inches from his face. He dropped back out of sight as the sound of the gunshot reached his ears.

  “He must be on the ridge,” Kurt said, “as it’s the highest place I can see. And since the bullet reaches us way before the sound of the shot he must be quite a distance away.”

  “So how the fuck are we going to get him?” Conner asked.

  “One of us is going to have to distract him to give the other a chance to make their way towards him.”

  “So you want one of us to be a sitting target?”

  “More like a running one.”

  Emma gawked at him in panic. “You can’t go.”

  “If we don’t we’re just going to remain sitting ducks.”

  “So who’s going to make a run for it?” Conner asked.

  “We’ll toss for the privilege.” Kurt took a coin from his pocket and threw it in the air. He caught the coin and slapped it on the back of his hand. “Call, heads or tails. If you guess right, you can choose.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Kurt launched himself from behind the car and sprinted for all he was worth. He tried his best to zigzag as he ran, making himself a harder target. A potholed lane was the only way into the car park and he thundered along it, trying his best not to twist his ankle on the rough surface. He heard a bullet smack into the foliage at his side, spurring him on.

  Another bullet whined past his ear sounding like an angry wasp, but the sting in the tail of this particular one would be far more deadly. His lungs were on fire and his thighs like molten metal. Unused to such physical exertion, pain radiated from his calves, each footfall feeling as though his bones were splintering.

  He splashed through puddles, the wind and rain whipping at his face. Up ahead a high hedge bordered the lane. He put on a final spurt and headed for the tunnel of foliage, hiding himself within its shelter. It arched above his head in places, like two waves about to break on either side of him. A bullet whined through the leaves twenty or so feet behind him. Another followed moments later, about fifty feet in front of him, throwing up a small shower of sparks as the bullet struck the stones in the lane. Armstrong was shooting blind.

  Kurt rested his hands on his knees and took deep breaths. Sweat coated his forehead and his body, but despite the exertion his cheeks were like ice cubes.

  After a couple of seconds he started jogging along the lane. Hopefully his distraction had been successful and Conner had made a break for it unnoticed. He only hoped he could trust him not to flee and save his own neck, leaving his family at the shooter’s mercy.

  Judging by his position, Kurt guessed he was now far enough away to veer off the path and head in a circuitous route towards the ridge.

  He clawed his way through the hedge, cautiously peering towards where he guessed Armstrong was positioned, relieved to see the lane had taken him far away to the side of the ridge.

  Heart in his throat and praying the shooter hadn’t moved to follow him, he stumbled out of the undergrowth which did its best to pull him back, and headed across a muddy field punctuated by reeds. With each step his feet sank into the squelching ground, and he cursed his slow progress as he tugged his feet out, the loud slurping noises making him feel the earth was trying to eat him.

  Moss covered rocks stuck out in places, and he tried his best to use them as stepping-stones whenever he could, hopping from one to another. When he finally reached the low stone wall at the other side of the field, he followed it up the slope, moving in a crouch to keep himself as low as possible.

  The wind increased the force of the rain, making each drop sting his cheeks like mild acid, but he ignored the pain; thought about his family, praying to God they were still safe. As he climbed the ridge, he looked across to where he guessed they were, but from his position he couldn’t yet see the car. He also didn’t spot Conner.

  Kurt fought his way up, hampered by the muddy ground and loose rocks. The relentless wind whipped the undergrowth lining the route, threatening to trip him if he put a foot wrong. His progress seemed laboriously slow, and when he eventually reached
the top his thighs burned and his ankles ached. He panted for breath, his heart missing a beat when he heard the crack of the gun being fired. By the sound of the shot, he wasn’t far away from the shooter and he sprinted across the top of the ridge. Bushes lined a rough path formed by countless feet traipsing across it over the years.

  He stopped to scan the route when sudden movement caught his eye, and he saw Conner crouch down about one hundred feet in front of him.

  Further movement grabbed his attention, but this time a bush was moving in the wind, then the shrubbery stood up straight, and he recognised Frank Windsor, the man he thought had been killed.

  Realising the man was in danger, Kurt shouted, “Frank, get down.”

  Frank turned to look at him. Raising a rifle as he did so, he targeted Kurt through the telescopic sight, making his blood run cold. Behind Frank, Conner burst from his position, firing shots from his pistol.

  Understanding struck Kurt like the blow from a sledgehammer. “Armstrong,” he shouted, his blood running cold. He raised his gun, preparing to fire, but Armstrong beat him to it, firing a shot off first and causing Kurt to dive aside.

  Armstrong grinned. Then he pivoted around, shooting back at Conner. One of his shots struck home, spinning Conner around. He dropped behind a rock and silence descended.

  Armstrong turned back to Kurt. “Call yourself a copper.” He pulled aside some of his Ghillie suit to reveal a bulletproof vest. “Took some planning, but I’ve been watching you for ages. I know all about you, Kurt Vaughn. And it’s that knowledge I’m going to use to put you in the frame for the robbery.”

  “Me!” Kurt shook his head. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I don’t understand. Why would you do that?”

  “The witnesses to the robbery reported four people. I’ve planted enough evidence at your house to incriminate you as one of the gang. That’ll then leave me in the clear.”

  “You’re mad. Nobody will believe that cock and bull story.”

  “Present them with enough evidence and they’ll believe anything. All everyone wants is someone to blame.”

  “So what’s all this with the geocaching?”

  “I needed a way to bring you and my accomplices together, and when I found out what you did in your spare time, your little pastime gave me the perfect opportunity to get you out here in the wild where there’s no way to make a call.”

  Kurt felt his pulse throbbing at his temples. “I still don’t understand. Why didn’t you kill your accomplices before now? Why trick them out here too?”

  “Are you not listening? I wanted to get you all together in a remote place with no mobile phone access. Your stupid hobby was the perfect ploy, so I decided to have a little fun. After all, you haven’t been able to track down the robbers, but I thought you should have a crack at investigating something. The evidence against you will suggest you tricked your accomplices out here before killing them.”

  “You won’t get away with this. Not when I know the truth.”

  “As the saying goes, two men can keep a secret when one of them is dead.” He started to raise his gun.

  Kurt dived aside, jarring his shoulder as he struck the ground. His momentum carried him forwards, and he rolled over a rock that pierced his back and made him wince. Continuing the roll, he tumbled over the edge of the ridge, his arms and legs flailing as he tried to stop himself falling all the way to the bottom. Pain radiated from every part of his body as he bounced over the ground. He grabbed a small bush to arrest his fall, a jagged branch piercing his palm. Kurt emitted a small cry but he didn’t release his grip, letting his body come to a crashing halt as he clung to the branch, his anchor.

  He looked up the slope, terrified of seeing Armstrong staring back, training the gun on him. Not wasting any time, he raised the pistol and pointed the weapon towards the edge of the ridge. His hand shook, making it difficult to aim properly, and pain radiated from his limbs. Rain pelted his face, making him blink and he tensed his finger on the trigger.

  Come on you bastard, he thought. One shot. That’s all I need.

  But nobody appeared and after what seemed a lifetime of waiting, Kurt slowly dragged himself back up the bank. At the top he peered nervously over the edge, but there was no sign of Armstrong so he stood up straight and ran over to where Conner had fallen. He expected to find him dead, but when he arrived, the man was leaning against the rock, holding his hand to his chest. Blood trickled through his fingers, the rain spreading it in diluted rivulets down his jacket. He coughed, the motion making him wince.

  “He fucking shot me,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Where’s he gone?”

  “He fucking shot me,” Conner repeated.

  “And he’ll shoot you again if he gets a chance. Now where did he go?”

  “I don’t know. I couldn’t see from behind here. I think he thought I was dead.”

  Kurt looked around. At first he couldn’t see him anywhere, but then he noticed movement down the path, Armstrong in his Ghillie suit. And he was heading straight for Emma and Caleb.

  CHAPTER 24

  “He’s there,” Kurt roared. He grabbed Conner and hauled him to his feet. “And you’re going to help me stop him.”

  Conner coughed. “Are you stupid? I’m in fucking agony here.”

  “And you’ll be in a whole lot more if you don’t get a move on.” He pushed Conner along in front of him.

  Conner stumbled ahead, groaning and mumbling.

  “I’m going to head him off,” Kurt said. “I want you to bring up the rear, that way we’ll trap him in the middle. If he hurts my family, I swear to God—” He left the threat unspoken and then veered away, bounding down the slope, heedless of the treacherous underfoot conditions. He only had one aim. To save his family.

  He couldn’t believe Armstrong had gone to all this trouble to frame him for the robbery. The whole idea was crazy. He had to realize this plan would never work, but then if he’d been crazy enough to blow up the rollercoaster, he was crazy enough to try anything.

  Armstrong had already reached the level ground at the bottom of the slope, and was heading across the field towards the car park. Kurt presumed he had stashed the rifle on top of the ridge as he hadn’t had the gun with him earlier. God knows what else he was armed with, but the rifle was now slung across his shoulder.

  The route Kurt had chosen was far riskier as in places the ground dropped away in an almost vertical cliff face, and patches of scree made it treacherous underfoot, but if he didn’t injure himself, this would be the fastest route. It was a risk he had to take.

  Rocks skittered beneath his feet and he skidded a few feet down the bank, arched crablike, hands underneath him on the ground to help him balance. Jagged rocks sliced his palms as he descended, but he ignored the pain.

  A few minutes later he reached the bottom and ploughed across the field. The incessant rain had left large swampy areas that he splashed through, although he tried his best to avoid them where he could as they slowed his progress too much.

  By now Armstrong was nowhere in sight, and the hedge obstructed his view so he couldn’t see his family, so he shouted, “Emma, Caleb, run!”

  Puffing and panting, he reached the gap in the hedge, through which he spotted the car. Armstrong stood beside the vehicle. He had his arm around Emma’s neck, the knife in his free hand pressed against her breast. Caleb stood beside them, shaking.

  “Let her go,” Kurt said, aiming the gun at Armstrong. His hand shook. “Caleb, get over here.”

  Caleb didn’t move. He stood staring at his mum, his eyes wide and mouth open.

  Armstrong laughed. “I knew you’d come running to your family’s rescue. But you aren’t going to shoot, so put the gun down.”

  “I’m not going to repeat myself again, let her go.”

  Armstrong pulled Emma backwards, away from the car. “You won’t risk your wife’s life.”

  “But I will you bastard,” Conner said as he staggered
through the hedge, gun in one hand and holding his chest with the other. He coughed and spat out a wad of bloody phlegm.

  Kurt realised Armstrong was right, and he wouldn’t risk Emma’s life. Conner meanwhile had no such ties to restrain his trigger finger.

  Conner glanced at Kurt. “Armstrong planned the whole thing. Nobody else knew about the bomb until he detonated it. He said the explosion would be the perfect diversion.”

  “And it worked,” Armstrong said.

  “Now tell me where the money is.” Conner said.

  Armstrong laughed. “Haven’t you worked it out yet, Conner. I’m the only one who knows where the money is, so kill me and you’ll never get your share.”

  “I’m not stupid. You don’t intend to share anyway. All this was to make sure of that.”

  “Then you’re not as daft as you look.”

  “But if I’m not going to get any of the money, then neither are you.” He raised the gun and prepared to fire.

  “Nooooo,” Kurt screamed. He raised his own gun, pointed the weapon at Conner and pulled the trigger.

  The gun kicked in Kurt’s hand. Almost instantaneously, the bullet struck Conner, punching him back. Almost as an afterthought, Conner pulled his trigger too, but the bullet went wide of its mark and buried itself in the hedge.

  Caleb screamed as Conner collapsed, his head smacking the floor with a loud thud.

  “Good shot,” Armstrong said.

  Kurt turned to face him, the gun shaking in his hand. “Let my wife go. The money’s yours now. You don’t have to share.”

  “I never intended to, but I can’t leave any witnesses. Not when you’re part of my escape plan.”

  Kurt knew Armstrong intended to kill him and his family. If he had callously killed all those people at the theme park, another couple of deaths wouldn’t matter.

  He was going to have to take the shot regardless. He tensed his finger on the trigger. Armstrong pulled Emma further back. There was a maniacal glint in his eyes. Kurt’s throat was incredibly dry and he couldn’t produce any saliva. He blinked, trying to clear the rainwater from his vision. Hot tears simmered around his eyeballs. How had it all come to this?