Poseidon's Ransom

Chapter Forty Three

The bus pulled into the Principality Central Coach Station a little after 8pm Before disembarking Washington carefully scanned the area. The place was busy, but that was to be expected. He waited until everyone had left, and the driver shouted, ‘Ici Monaco, monsieur.’

He raised his hand and said, ‘Merci.’ At the coach door he looked around one more time, then quickly disappeared into the hustle and bustle of the station.

The taxi let him out a good two hundred yards from his villa. He waited until the cab had turned around and left, then scanned the area. A set of approaching headlights made him step back off the road and into the shadow of a gnarled old olive tree. He waited for several minutes and then walked slowly towards the house. Fifty yards away, he moved down the hillside and approached the property from the rear.

He waited for at least half-an-hour, watching the back of the villa, looking for movement, shadows, anything. Slowly he entered the pool area. He could see all the way through to the front of the house and the illuminated drive and gardens. Again, he waited. Nothing.

He tried the patio doors. Locked. Then he slowly moved round the side of the building to the front corner, always vigilant, ever cautious. Again, nothing. He quickly let himself in and flipped the switch on the exterior light’s timer. The front of the house fell into darkness.

The moon gave enough light to see, and he quickly checked all the weapons-stashes. Three guns had gone, whoever had found the guns were good. Professionals. He smiled when he discovered the Glock in the bottom of the dishwasher was still there. He deftly racked the mechanism and checked it was still fully loaded.

In the bathroom, he knelt and carefully eased the side-panel from the bath. He took his smartphone, switched on the torch and leaned into the cavity. The light glinted on the steel of the floor-safe. He quickly tapped in the combination and the door sprung open with a metallic click. He removed a small Smith & Wesson revolver, then the bundles of cash.

Back in the bedroom he found a money belt and loaded most of the cash into it. The rest he stuffed into the bottom of a lightweight rucksack, along with a few clothes, the Glock and the revolver. From the back of his underwear drawer, he took an ivory handled switch-blade and slipped that into his back pocket.

In the lounge he went to the patio, looked out and down to the glittering harbour, three miles below. For several seconds he enjoyed the view, then turned back to the small bar and poured himself a large shot of Bourbon. He raised the glass and said, ‘Cheers, Rick,’ then swallowed the fiery amber liquid.

He went to the big windows again, swiped his phone’s screen and scrolled through the contacts. It took several beeps before the answer came. ‘Yes?’

‘It’s me,’ said Washington.

‘I know it’s you. Why are you calling me?’

‘You know why. What the hell happened?’

‘I said I’d do what I could. I’m only one of thirteen.’

‘You’re a lying sack-of-shit.’

There was silence for several seconds, then Washington said, ‘You still there?’

‘I’m here, but I won’t be if you keep talking like that.’

Washington chuckled. ‘Oh, spare me the indignation.’

‘What do you want? There’s nothing further I can do for you, Rick.’

‘Firstly, I want the two million I gave you. You didn’t deliver. You don’t get to keep my money.’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

‘Bullshit. You’ll pay me back or…’

The other voice snapped. ‘Or what, Rick? What will you do. You can do nothing.’

‘I can let your friends on the council know what you’ve really been up too.’

Again, several seconds past. ‘And what was the other, Rick?’

‘What?’

‘You said, firstly. What was the other thing?’

‘Ah, yes. I want Jack Castle’s location in the UK. His home.’