Michael and Agnes stood apprehensively on the pier. A small motor boat approached, the pilot hidden from view by the fixed canopy at the fore. Rather more unnerving, Vladimir steadied himself at the stern by way of a metal railing. The engine throttled back.
In the distance, the shimmering lights from a handsome one hundred and forty foot yacht reflected in the smooth lagoon. Vlad pointed with his finger. Zebra One, Michael surmised. Faint music could just be detected from the alluring vessel as it gently swayed on its anchor, its three tall masts striking majestically skyward.
Michael scanned the harbour. It was busy. Tourists ambled along, oblivious to the fact that the police were among them, lying in wait. Michael prayed that they were. He felt utterly sick in the stomach. The call from Theo disturbed him, and Kara wasn’t answering her phone.
Agnes tried to calm him. Beyond the lagoon, magical under a full moon, he wondered what was in store once they reached the yacht. Would Julius really be on board? This didn’t add up…
Vladimir stepped ashore and took Agnes’s hand and supported her as she stepped down on the tiny deck. Michael followed, pushing the henchman’s hand away forcibly. He didn’t need assistance, and certainly not from a thug. Later, it would be payback time. He hadn’t forgotten what happened in the alley.
The light wind caught in their hair as the small craft revved up and pulled away from Pier 14. Michael sat back and placed an arm around Agnes’s shoulder as they huddled together. There was no going back on this one. Courage was the order of the day, but for Michael, a sense of terror began to strangle the very power surge he had felt earlier. He looked back toward the pier, hoping to spot another boat following at a distance. There was none. Had the police cocked up? For now, he was just one man against the odds. And he didn’t like the odds one bit.
As they approached Zebra One, he could hear jovial voices and saw many people on the deck. It was a party of sorts. Couples were dancing.
He felt more at ease. Then his mobile bleeped.
Curiously, it was Marcus. His distant voice was straining, and difficult to grasp against the noise of the whining engine.
‘Speak more slowly, Marcus…’
‘I said why the fuck didn’t you return my call?’
‘What’s the problem? You sound agitated.’
‘The shit has hit the fan. Where are you?’
Michael tried to shield his phone. ‘The shit…what? Oh, Christ, what has happened, Marcus?’
Agnes stared at him with a deep, quizzical frown. Just then the tiny boat swung to the stern of Zebra One and disappeared on the blind side. Michael could read the banner tied to the railings on the yacht, which announced gleefully:
“THE LOVE BOAT: HAPPY WEDDING DAY!”
Something definitely wasn’t right. He could hear Marcus screaming in his ear, as he quickly realised that they were now out of sight of anyone on their tail…assuming the police boat that should be following at a safe distance was in fact there. Oh fuck.
He heard Marcus’s abrupt words slam home: ‘Martin Penny isn’t dead…he’s alive… and Kara has gone missing…I think she has been abducted. Where are you? Are you still listening to me?’
Suddenly, before he could answer Marcus, the speedboat increased power and veered away from Zebra One, its frothing wake cascading against the side of the steep black hull as it receded into the background. Those on board ignored the minor commotion, hell-bent on enjoying the party, blissfully dancing to the rhythmic blast from the disco music.
The line to Marcus suddenly disconnected. Michael now knew the brutal truth…Zebra One was a clever diversion. They were never going to step aboard… It was a decoy, intended to act as an elaborate cover to lure them into a false sense of security. But for what dreadful purpose?
Instinctively, Michael quickly removed the SIM card from his phone and stuck it in his jacket pocket just as Vladimir lunged menacingly forward, his immense bulk bearing down on them.
Vladimir grabbed Michael by the shoulder, yanked the now defunct phone from his grip and tossed it into the churning water. Agnes tried to intervene but was slapped down by the force of the henchman’s trigger-happy backhand swipe across the face.
Michael was horrified. They were in dire trouble, trapped in a speeding boat at full throttle with a madman and heading into nothingness, the lights from the distant yacht diminishing by the second. It couldn’t possibly get any worse.
Then, to his utter disbelief, a familiar hulking figure loomed into view from the cabin brandishing a shotgun. A satanic grin creased the wild-eyed face, her piercing laughter chilling the night air.
Agnes had never seen such a murderous expression. Michael had.
Maggie.
***
Marcus was in a sheer panic, unable to get his head straight. Think, man!
After phoning Michael, he searched the apartment for any clue which would help to find out what happened to Kara. There was nothing. She had been snatched in a second. All he knew was that she was missing, taken by a stranger. He frantically questioned Kara’s mother but she was in no fit state to understand how serious this had become, attempting to calm a bawling baby at the same time as trying to make sense of why her daughter had been snatched. She kept repeating the name Terry.
Marcus cleared his head. Kara had been kidnapped, but by whom? It certainly wasn’t Terry Miles.
Luckily, the police in the undercover vehicle saw what had happened and recorded the registration number of the departing car. An APB had been put out over London, but Marcus knew it was a long-shot to be able to chase them down, or even find them in the rush hour. Kara had been taken and the police were powerless to act. She had simply vanished into thin air. Little Harvey cried hysterically. Kara’s mum paced the floor, crying too, desperately comforting the baby in her soothing embrace and failing miserably. A woman police officer made tea as Marcus tried to fathom out what he could do next. It was mayhem.
Outside, the road was overflowing with police cars, their blue lights fracturing the blackness of the night. Uniformed officers crowded the room. Earlier, Marcus felt strong and in control…and thought he knew what he was doing. Now he was reduced to a quivering wreck. He took hold of his son and began to sob too. He felt worthless and foolish: Whatever made him believe he could somehow defeat this evil on his own?
***
Kara knelt on an oily concrete floor, frightened and cold. In the semi-darkness she could make out a single mattress next to her, covered by a thin blanket. Atop a tea chest, a mug of water was just within her reach. Her movement was restricted by her left wrist handcuffed to an old creaking radiator, which was barely lukewarm. She shivered and silently prayed for her life.
She heard footsteps and bit her lip. She was at the mercy of this madman. The door inched open. The man who called himself Terry entered the room, shining a torch in her face. Momentarily, she was blinded.
‘Who are you?’ Kara demanded.
‘My name is Theo.’
‘Well, fuck you, Theo!’
He smirked: ‘That I would enjoy…’
‘I want to see my son.’
‘You’ll need divine intervention for that to happen.’
She wouldn’t back down, defiant to the last.
‘What do you want, wacko?’
‘Patience, my dear. All will be revealed to you in good time…’
‘I haven’t done anything to you.’
‘A fair point, but you need to meet with someone who does have a grievance.’
Maggie.
‘Tell her to go fuck herself…’
‘Oh, you can do that yourself, face to face tomorrow but unfortunately for you I won’t be around to be the referee…you see, this room is soundproof and any screams will be lost to the outside world. And believe me, there will be screams, but I’ll be away, attending to other business.’
‘…And what business will that be?’
He laughed.
‘I’ll be digging a grave. You should get some sleep…it will be a long night for you.’
***
Marcus was aware of a sudden commotion at the front door. A girl burst in, shouting his name. A police woman stopped her in her tracks.
‘Who the hell are you?’ Marcus asked, catching sight of the intruder for the first time.
She was breathless. ‘My name is Gemma. I saw Kara earlier this afternoon and we were working on something together…I have information which was important to her, so I was calling by. Then I saw the police cordon at the end of the road, and they told me what had happened. I blagged my way in…’
Marcus was bewildered. ‘What information?’
‘Has she been kidnapped?’ the girl asked.
Marcus looked shell-shocked. ‘What did you say your name was..?’
‘Gemma, I work with Michael Strange.’
Not another one. ‘And you’ve met Kara…?’
She was growing impatient: ‘Yes! Has Kara been…’
He nodded in desperation. ‘We believe so, by a man who called himself Terry Miles, but I know that was a lie.’
One of the policemen asked: ‘What is this information you have…?’
‘This man is called Theo Britton.’
‘How do you know that?’ Marcus said, confused. He was joined by a detective in plain clothes.
‘You need to trust me on this, Marcus,’ the girl said. ‘I’ve had a run-in with him and he’s a very nasty character.’
‘That doesn’t make me feel better, Gemma.’
‘I’ve been doing some research on the internet. You get nothing on Theo Britton or his associates. However, my family have ties with him. His real name is Theo Lakis, a Greek hoodlum who works mainly in the London and Birmingham areas. His father was at one time a big crime lord in the East End of the city.’
‘Your family? How the hell…’
‘It doesn’t matter how I know…let’s just say I have contacts.’
The detective smirked. ‘Are you for real?’
She caught his eye. ‘You’d better believe it.’
Marcus had nothing else to hold onto. He lowered his head, defeated.
Gemma pitched in, ignoring the withering looks that surrounded her.
‘I’ve found out that Theo owns a disused lock-up warehouse at Shoreditch.’
The detective rolled his eyes. Marcus looked up and caught her gaze.
‘It’s called Britton House,’ she said.
‘That’s it!’ the detective shouted, grabbing for his phone and rushing for the door. Suddenly she was super-hero number one.
Marcus too rushed forward and kissed Gemma on the lips, leaving the poor girl staring into space. In a flash, he was gone too as he brushed past her and raced after the waiting police car.
He just had to believe…
***
The solitary landing light came into view, stuck on the end of an old, rickety, wooden jetty. Beyond, Michael could make out a small strip of land of some kind appearing slowly through the mist over the lagoon. A single fisherman’s hut, built of stone and planks, stood as the only landmark on the island.
Vlad steered in. Maggie, shotgun in hand, yelled her orders to disembark as the tiny boat came alongside the jetty. As he did so, Michael glanced over his shoulder, searching for any activity on the water…any sign of help. There was none. They were prisoners of their own making.
Vladimir led the way over the shingle, dragging Agnes as he went. Maggie prodded Michael in the back with the barrel of the weapon, gleefully aware of her overpowering control of the situation. At the hut, Vladimir unlocked the huge padlock, flung open the rusty door and pushed his captive into the blackness. Michael followed reluctantly, after enduring a sharp crack to the spine from the gun butt. The door shut firmly behind them. In the gloom, he felt sure that they were not alone.
‘Who’s in here?’ he asked warily, lifting Agnes to her feet.
He was met by a whimpering, frightened response.
‘There are two of us – our names are Julius and Antonia. Who are you?’
‘Christ,’ Michael said in shock. ‘Julius, it’s Michael…Michael Strange!’
‘My God…’
Michael suddenly felt a fumbled embrace in the black and damp air.
‘How long have you been trapped here?’ Michael asked.
‘A few hours, hard to tell…who are you with?’
Ghostly human shapes began to materialise as their eyes adjusted in the darkness that surrounded them.
Michael spoke first. ‘This is Agnes, a dear friend…she has a gallery just off St Mark’s Square.’
‘I know of it. Did Maggie drag you here, on the pretext of a party?’ Julius asked.
‘You guessed correctly, although we were duped by her accomplice, Theo, and his gorilla.’
‘This is one clever trap…’ Julius whispered.
‘…And I don’t think the planned outcome is a happy one,’ Agnes said. She summed up their predicament, offering hope and despair in the same breath, adding: ‘The police will be looking for us, and are probably searching Zebra One as we speak. However, they will be unaware at this stage that the yacht was simply a decoy.’
‘They wouldn’t have a clue where we have been taken,’ Michael said, finishing her line of thought. Cold reality struck home. Then he thought of what Marcus had said: Kara was missing…
Somehow they had to find a way to escape, and fast.
‘The police know of this?’ Julius asked, his voice heightened in renewed optimism.
‘Not exactly,’ Agnes responded quickly. ‘We gave them a tip-off that something was likely to happen, but…’
Her voice trailed off.
Silence prevailed, as the four of them realised the awful mess they were in. They were at the mercy of Maggie.
Antonia finally dared to speak: ‘What’s going to happen to us?’
No one wanted to answer her.
***
The police quietly closed in on the perimeter fence which surrounded the warehouse, one of a dozen run-down buildings on an industrial estate near Shoreditch. They manoeuvered stealthily and silently until the place was under total surveillance. Snipers hid on the flat roof opposite the main entrance to the building which, they believed, held captive the woman named Kara Scott. What was unknown, and caused the biggest concern, was just who else was in there with her and what firearms they possessed.
The police operation so far was quick, slick and deadly in its intent.
For the first time, Marcus felt a sense of hope.
***
At the perimeter fence, a tramp wrapped in a filthy blanket dozed, mumbling and cursing to himself in the cold. Without warning, he was kicked awake.
To his astonishment, he was confronted by a uniformed officer, covered head to foot in black camouflage with his face masked, brandishing a short muzzle machine-gun. The order was specific: scarper in double quick time.
He did, without protest. But his astonishment was merely a pretence.
If the officer had engaged in him in conversation, he would no doubt have been surprised by the expensive diamond lodged in the tramp’s perfect set of white teeth. But no one cared about this seemingly bedraggled man…he was but a small distraction in the great scheme of things. They were after bigger fish. He was just one of life’s losers.
***
Michael frantically searched for a weapon, but he was quickly disappointed.
‘I have this,’ Julius volunteered, holding up a rope in the gloom.
‘That’ll do, Michael said. ‘We need to get them to open the door, and entice them in.’
‘One of us can pretend to be ill,’ Antonia suggested, raising all their spirits for a few fleeting moments.
‘I’ll do it,’ Agnes said, ‘I can scream with the best of them. I always fancied myself as an actress…’
‘We’ll take them by surprise, as it is very dark and our movements are not easy to detect,’ Michael added.
‘It’s all we have,’ Julius said weakly.
***
The signal came, deadly and silent. The storming of the warehouse by the police began as the armed teams moved in, smashing down the steel doors with force and speed, with the intent of bewildering Kara’s abductors and causing chaos as smoke bombs filled the air.
The operation lasted less than sixty seconds. There was no resistance. They soon discovered the captive alone and hysterical, chained like a dog to a radiator in a darkened locked room at the rear of the building. There was no guard, long gone no doubt. Had there been a tip-off?
Moments later, having been given the all clear, Marcus raced across the car park and into Kara’s trembling embrace. Wrapped in a silver security blanket, she sobbed and held him tight. Both knew that she was lucky to escape with her life. The thought of what might have happened made them hold on to each other and shudder. Gemma had saved Kara’s life, Marcus was sure of that.
‘You’re safe now,’ he murmured.
‘Take me home…please.’
A waiting police car whisked them away from the site.
Marcus thought of Theo, her captor. He was still free, and holed up with Maggie no doubt. They would not stop their vicious witch hunt…this was only the beginning unless he could halt this nightmare once and for all. They were relentless in this warfare they conducted against them. He would never beat them. Perhaps it was time to come clean. But how could he explain to Kara the lie he was living?
They weren’t safe, as he had pretended moments earlier, but he had to make her believe the impossible.
Where was Martin Penny when he needed him?
***
Out of sight and long gone, Theo found his car, discarded the blanket, dirty overcoat and scarf on the back seat and took stock of the situation. He’d had a lucky getaway and he cursed how quickly the police armed unit had found Kara. How was that possible? Who could have known of the disused warehouse? He had been rumbled. Thankfully, he had the foresight to watch over the warehouse from afar and in disguise, knowing this was an easier escape route if everything went pear-shaped. Better that than be stuck in the building. He was proved right. Smart bugger, he thought smugly. He would find out later who snitched on him. The plan had misfired, and now he was standing alone taking stock. Vladimir was with Maggie in Venice. He was supposed to look after things here, holding Kara captive until their victorious return. Then Kara’s fate would be decided. Now his fate was in the balance. Where was plan B?
Sweat poured down his face. He had to get away and regroup and await the wrath of Maggie later. She would be furious. And how would he deal with the other…?
He suddenly became aware of someone standing behind him. He turned slowly, pissed off that his henchman wasn’t there to protect him. What else could go wrong?
Now he knew the answer.
The stranger stood so close that his breath cooled the sweat on his skin, and Theo instinctively knew he wasn’t in a good place. This man stared with cold hard eyes: killer eyes. He was built like a soldier, his shaven head glistening under the moonlight.
Theo tried to speak but his futile utterings turned to a pitiful squeal. The final breath from his body was removed expertly as the unknown man quietly and methodically tightened a massive grip around his throat. His feet involuntarily began to kick. His brain was shutting down.
‘This is for Mitch,’ he heard the man say.
Theo’s eyes began to bulge. A red mist descended as hundreds of blood vessels began to pop and cloud his vision. Who the bollocks was..? He was sinking fast, kicking wildly. Then his arms and legs lost their strength, his hands and feet twitching. He exhaled for the last time. His body went limp. Then pitch black overcame him.
***
The plan was simple…and all they had at their disposal. Fuck this up and they were all dead, Michael was convinced of it.
At the count of three, Agnes began to wail, her voice intensifying as the seconds ticked down. Antonia banged on the door, shouting for help. Either side of her, the two men crouched with the rope lying loosely across the threshold, but tucked back and hidden against the lowest of the three steps that led down into the hut. The trap was laid.
They waited for a response. Nothing. Michael left his position and banged frantically on the door as well.
‘We need assistance!’ he shouted.
Agnes screamed again. Even Michael was convinced by her performance.
‘A woman is pregnant and needs medical help…can you hear me Maggie?’
Still nothing.
‘Vladimir, are you there?’
They each held their breath.
‘Have pity!’ Michael implored. ‘Agnes is not part of this, Maggie. You have no business to hurt her…you have me, surely that’s enough!’
They waited and then Michael signalled to Agnes to intensify the drama.
This time her scream echoed around the hut, forcing Antonia to cover her ears. It was the last chance saloon.
It wasn’t working.
‘I’ll offer them the paintings,’ Julius said.
‘What paintings?’ Michael asked, but then he understood. It was the only currency they had to trade with.
Julius made his offer repeatedly and waited. He thought he detected a shuffling outside the door and grabbed Michael by the arm. He listened too and silently resumed his position holding tight the rope.
The door unbolted and creaked inward, a tiny shaft of light penetrating the gloom.
‘Get back and shut that woman up,’ Vladimir instructed, ‘there is a fishing boat nearby. Keep her quiet, or I’ll do it for you!’
Agnes cranked up the distress by whimpering and huddling in a corner but Vlad wasn’t buying it.
‘This woman needs help urgently,’ Antonia pleaded, stooping beside her stricken body. The door widened.
‘Where are the remaining paintings kept?’ Vlad demanded.
‘I can show you,’ Julius said, gaining precious seconds.
Michael took a chance and left his position, knowing that if he spoke out his voice would betray his stance close to the door. A dead giveaway of a planned counter attack for sure, and then their game would be up if the Russian cottoned onto it. The fishing boat was their salvation. Nothing would happen while it sailed close by.
He could hear a muffled discussion from outside. Come on, come on…
Shit! The door started to close. The ploy had failed.
‘Maggie!’ Julius screamed. ‘I can give you the paintings…’’
The door held its position. Michael stared at Julius, who murmured:
‘You win, Maggie…just let us go.’
Gradually, the door began to reopen.
It was Vlad who spoke: ‘Come out, but just you. The rest stay put.’
Michael sensed a trick. He waved his finger at Julius. Sweat trickled down his neck.
‘No deal,’ Michael shouted. This was the moment.
He then slid across the stone floor, smoothly regaining the rope in his grip. It was up to Agnes to play her role again.
She groaned convincingly as the door opened further and Vladimir moved onto the first step.
‘All of you, stand at the rear so the woman can come forward,’ he barked. ‘Julius can follow after…’
Michael knew the henchman’s eyes would adjust to the darkness in a few seconds. His heart pounded. Hold steady, Julius. Just one more step…
‘We need help to lift her,’ Antonia pleaded. ‘My boyfriend has hurt his arm and Agnes cannot stand…I’m afraid for her life and that of her baby if she doesn’t get to a hospital soon.’
Michael assumed that Vlad didn’t give a stuff for any of them but the fishing boat could potentially be alerted to the plight of the captives with another scream and somehow Julius’s words had worked their trick on the kidnappers.
‘I’m armed,’ Vladimir said, his warning a veiled threat. ‘Get her to the door and I’ll lift her through…’
Christ, he stepped down! Michael could see the glint of his pistol and the profile of his ugly mug as he dropped down into the hut just inches away. Instinctively, he and Julius yanked violently on the rope so that it lifted behind Vladimir’s knees. Before he could react, they both snapped the line forward, which brought his legs up from the floor. He tumbled backwards with a clipped curse – and then silence as his head crashed against the concrete step. He was out cold. There was a delayed reaction from all of them, then a collective gasp, followed by utter mayhem.
Michael grabbed the gun, kicked out at the stricken figure to make sure he was unconscious and then braced himself against the wall for added protection for fear of Maggie being alerted. Julius in turn grabbed both women and brought them to his side out of harm’s way. There was still the small matter of one fucked-up crazy mamma with a loaded shotgun waiting for them…
The noise was deafening as the gunshot exploded into the hut, followed by a blinding flash which lit up the entire universe, it seemed. Splinters of wood and chunks of stone flew out from the back wall as the missile made impact. Julius was caught on the arm and face as he shielded the women. He could feel blood slowly dripping from several shrapnel wounds to his body.
Clearly the fishing boat had disappeared from view, Michael deduced. He knew Maggie couldn’t care who heard them now. She was beyond reason. She always had been. Crazy cow. It was the mad hatter’s tea party.
‘Everyone OK?’ Michael asked, regaining his composure. His ears were ringing from the blast.
‘OK,’ Julius said unconvincingly.
Then it was Maggie’s turn to join in.
‘Be a good thing if you could step outside, Michael.’
Her voice sent a chill through his bones. He had been in a similar situation at the farm. He weighed up his options. He had a small handgun, she possessed a mighty shotgun. He had nowhere to run, she stood above him with a full view of his only escape route. Not good.
‘Do you want me to come and get you?’ she hollered. ‘Or shall I simply burn you all to hell, which is my preferred choice?’
Through the crack in the door, Michael could detect the outline of bales of straw jammed up against the side of the hut. She wasn’t kidding. They were in massive trouble, and alone and isolated. Hadn’t the police heard the gunshot? Where the fuck were they?
Somehow he had to gain the upper hand, but how? It would be impossible to entice her in, as she was aware of Vlad’s fate. If they stayed in the hut for much longer, they ran the risk of her setting fire to the straw. The police were hopefully coming…but when? Michael was sure that her beef was with him, and him alone. Why the need to kill all of them? Then he recalled Julius’s odd reference to the paintings… what was that about? They must have had a deal, which he had reneged on. That’s why they too were held captive. What was the motive? Why did Maggie have such a thirst for revenge? His mind buzzed. Then he had a masterstroke of a thought.
Had she reloaded? So far she had fired off one round. If he could get her to shoot again then her gun would be empty, giving him the opportunity to fight back on his terms. But had she reloaded? Not likely, he guessed. This was lunacy – but he had to find out the hard way…
He signalled silently for Julius to help lift Vladimir up so that he was in a sitting position propped up against the wall. He was still unconscious, perhaps dead, Michael didn’t care. Between them, they lifted him just enough so that Michael could prop the body over his shoulder. It was an immense weight to support, and he could feel the sweat on his skin from the exertion. He was panting like an animal. This had better work…
He gave Julius the gun and whispered his instructions on the count of three. His life flashed before him, but the thought of Kara’s fate gave him the strength of will to try anything.
One, two, three.
Julius fired two shots into the air as Michael shouted, ‘I’m coming out, Maggie. See you in hell!’
Julius fired again and with one massive heave Michael lifted Vladimir upright and propelled him through the door. The sudden movement just after the shots from Julius had the desired effect. Maggie panicked.
A huge boom filled the night as a flash and then gunshot pellets peppered Vladimir’s body, sending him spiralling to the earth. Michael grabbed the pistol from Julius and ran up the steps, hurtling over the lifeless bloody form of his captor and, in a swirl of choking smoke from the shotgun’s blast, searched for the elusive Maggie. He heard retreating footsteps. Beyond, he could see her at the speedboat, untying the mooring rope. She looked back and grinned in his direction. Michael charged over the damp grass and onto the jetty as she jumped down and started the engine. Within a second, the motors roared into life and the boat lurched forward with a spray of foam flying into the air behind it. Michael leapt forward in the knowledge that it was now or never. This deranged monster was not getting away. It would be over his dead body.
He crashed down on the tiny deck and rolled over to protect his fall. He tried to stand but Maggie twisted the wheel and sent the boat into a series of turns. He fell and slammed his shoulder into the sidewall and dropped his gun. He watched in horror as it slid toward her.
She laughed hysterically and made a grab for it. The boat zigzagged crazily, its speed at full throttle as it skimmed the black waters. In the distance, Michael could see the lights from the shoreline. They were heading back to the mainland. And fast.
Maggie raised her arm and pointed the gun at his head.
‘Time to meet your maker!’ she shouted.
He spread his legs to gain balance. Anchored boats were coming into view at an alarming rate. They were out of control in the little boat and Maggie, he knew, was out of her mind. He was a dead man if she pulled the trigger – and she wasn’t going to miss from that range.
What he wanted was precious seconds as he frantically mapped the path of the speeding boat and calculated his only possible escape route. He grabbed the handrail. Think. Then he prepared his risky exit. It was preferable to a hail of bullets and the watery grave that was about to come his way.
‘Maggie! Maggie!’ he screamed back, counting down the seconds in his head. Think .Think. ‘You won’t get away with this…the police are after you.’
‘Die, you fucker…’ she said coldly, and then her grin disappeared as her eyes turned to cold steel. She was about to pull the trigger in another second. The boat tilted.
‘You can’t kill us all. Too many people know your game.’
She laughed insanely. ‘By morning you’ll all be dead…including that bitch Kara. We have something special planned just for her… and that boyfriend thief, the self-righteous little prick. As for you, I should have finished you in the barn. You’re a cat with nine lives. You won’t get another chance.’
The boat veered the other way. He saw the massive steel hull of a dredger loom into view ahead of them. This was it. Now.
Michael turned and dived headlong into the churning sea as the gunshots flew past his head and into the black depths beyond. He hit the icy water and sank fast. His lungs fought desperately for air. He kicked and swam upwards toward the surface. Just as he raised his head above the waves, he watched as the boat slammed into the stern of the dredger and exploded into a fierce ball of orange and white light. The tiny speed boat fragmented into a million shards of burning splinters. Maggie disintegrated in that same moment. A black oily plume shot skyward, choking the night air. Flaming wreckage floated on the lagoon. Above, red-hot debris slowly cascaded down like red rain, leaving vapour trails in the sky. No one could survive that, Michael knew.
Exhausted and cold, he trod water and tried to stay afloat in the choppy waves, his brain a whirl of confusion. Did he hear her right? A thief..? What was that supposed to mean? In the distance, he could just make out the flashing blue lights of a patrol boat skimming into view. This hell – his hell – was finally over.
He closed his eyes and imagined how death must feel, and how calm it would be… and when he finally opened them he felt his aching body being lifted forcibly by willing hands into a waiting boat.
He’d thought he was a goner…but today was not his day to die.