The trio stopped at the front door.
“Likely position of the last man?” Daffodil held her neck.
“Why is Mac talking to herself?” Marion asked.
“Long story.” Charlie cocked the rifle he had picked up from the kitchen floor. “But we need her. For now.”
“Ahem.” His mother pointed at the weapon. “Don’t even think of using that.”
“Mum, we’re fighting for our lives.”
“You know how I feel about guns, Charlie Ray.” Marion snatched the rifle from him. “I’m well aware of your capabilities, so find another way.”
“You are?”
“Think I haven’t noticed you changing?” she replied sharply. “I just didn’t know what to do about it. Now put down the gun.”
“All right,” Charlie sighed. “Back in a minute.” He trudged up the stairs, muttering to himself, and plodded back down a few seconds later holding his bat and baseball. “Ready.”
“What’s that for, slugger?” Daffodil goggled. “You gonna challenge the goon out front to a game of catch?”
“You do your thing and I’ll do mine.”
“If you insist.” Daffodil peered through the letterbox at the van. “There are a lot of nosy neighbours here who’d report any suspicious activity to the police, so the last guy is probably hidden in the cab of that surveillance vehicle. With a sniper rifle.”
“How do we get him out?”
“He has limited sightlines in there. Can’t hit two targets if they’re headin in opposite directions.” Daffodil winked at Charlie’s mum. “Mrs R? You willin to stake your life on Chaz bein as good as you think?”
“Of course, Mac. He’s my boy.”
“Then let’s go.”
Before Charlie could stop them, Daffodil and Marion flung open the door and raced down the path. When they reached the gate, Daffodil went left and Charlie’s mum turned right, both sprinting as fast as they could.
A black-clad figure wearing a balaclava leapt from the driver’s side of the van. He knelt and raised a rifle to his cheek, aiming at Marion’s back.
“Hey, woolhead!” Charlie threw the baseball up in the air. “Picked the wrong target!”
The assassin glanced round as the boy swung his bat. It hit the descending ball with a loud crack and the missile whizzed through the air, thudding into the man’s temple. He dropped the gun, tumbled over and lay still.
“Strike one!” Daffodil came sprinting back. “C’mon, Mrs R.”
They climbed into the cab of the green van and Charlie’s mum rolled down the window. Their neighbour from number 12 was peering over the hedge, trimming shears motionless in his hands.
“Morning, Mr Cuthbertson!” Marion gave a friendly wave. “Can you do me a favour and cancel my milk and paper deliveries?”
“No problem, hen.” The man’s eyes darted towards the unconscious figure lying in the middle of the road. “Ehm… I take it you won’t be coming back any time soon.”
“I don’t imagine so.”
“You were always quick with a smile or a chat.” He gave a small salute. “If anyone asks, I’ll say you went the other way.”
“You’re a proper gentleman.” She gunned the engine into life and drove off.
*
“So where are we going?” Marion asked Daffodil. “You seem to have all the answers, young lady.”
“I was sent from a place near some village called Bellbowrie,” she replied. “Apparently it was Gerry Ray’s safe house.”
“Gerry?” Charlie’s mother whirled round. “You know my husband?”
“Eyes front, Mum. You almost hit a lamppost.”
“Has he contacted you, Mac? What’s going on?”
“He got in touch last night,” Charlie admitted. “Said he loved us and he was in trouble.”
“That I already knew.” Marion swerved back onto the road. “But I can’t just drive to Bellbowrie. A van with all this surveillance equipment must have some kind of tracer system. Saw it on CSI Miami.”
Daffodil put her hand on the dashboard and wisps of smoke began to rise from behind the plastic vent. “Not any more it don’t.”
“Impressive.” Marion waved the grey tendrils away. “Now, do you pair of delinquents want to tell me exactly what Gerry had to say for himself?”
Marion’s phone rang.
“I’ll put it on silent.” The woman pulled her mobile out with one hand and checked who was calling. The screen said: Frankie.
Charlie saw Marion blanch when she read the name. She really had known what his dad was up to.
“You better get that,” Daffodil advised. “It’ll be important.”
Charlie’s mum pulled over, pressed receive and held the phone to her ear. She listened for a few minutes, then lowered the device.
“Carry on without me,” she said quietly.
“You can’t go back to the house,” Charlie argued. “Not after what happened.”
“I won’t. But I’m getting out here.”
“What did Frankie say?” he demanded. “Did he threaten you?”
“He told me how to find your dad but gave me a job to do first.”
“What did he say?”
“I have to get out now, baby.” Marion’s mouth was pinched into a thin line. “He promised to keep you safe, though. He better.” She pulled her son close and kissed his forehead. “I have faith in you. And I love you with all my heart.”
“I love you too, Mum.”
“Mac?” Marion let Charlie go. “You’ll look after my boy, won’t you?”
“Don’t worry, Mrs R.” Daffodil crossed her heart. “I ain’t gonna let Chaz out of my sight.”
“That’s the last thing I want to hear,” Charlie groaned. “Can’t you just tell me—?”
“Not now, baby.” Marion cut him off. “Do you know how to drive?”
“I’ve never sat behind a wheel in my life.”
“Not what I asked. You’ve been watching me do it for five minutes.”
“Yes,” he said dejectedly. “I know how to drive.”
“When we were young, your dad and I wanted to make the world a better place. Took some crazy risks to do it.” His mum put two fingers to her lips and pressed them against Charlie’s cheek. “I’m afraid it’s your turn. On you go. Be brave.”
Marion got out of the van and waved miserably as it drove away. Then she waited in the middle of the road, watching sunlight filtering through the leaves above. She shook her hands and breathed out slowly, as if preparing for an innocent jog.
Another van crested the rise and came tearing towards her at breakneck speed, just as Frankie had predicted it would.
Manticorps had had two surveillance vans watching the house.
Marion pulled out the pistol she had grabbed, unobserved, from the kitchen floor. Standing her ground, she emptied the clip into the oncoming vehicle’s tyres.
The van veered to the right, missing her by inches. It clipped a tree, ploughed through the undergrowth and bounced across a field, steam pouring from the engine.
“I thought we’d put this life behind us, Gerry.” Marion wiped the weapon clean and dropped it on the asphalt. “Never dreamed we’d pass it on to our son.”
Then she drifted away, quiet as a ghost.