Poseidon's Ransom

Chapter Fifty Three

After leaving Heathrow Jack had taken Nicole to the Blue Bell at East Monkton, for lunch. The restaurant was one of their favourites and boasted two Michelin stars. Even though he hadn’t booked, the Maître’d still managed to give them their favourite table overlooking the river. They both ate the excellent pâté, with a Cumberland sauce to die for. Nicole chose the salmon, Jack the veal. She drank a couple of glasses of white Zinfandel, Jack drank sparkling water. After being thanked by the Maître’d for the generous tip, they left the Blue Bell just after 3 o’clock.

As the Jaguar pulled up to the front of the house Nicole said, ‘That was lovely, Zaikin. And very unexpected. If I’d known we were eating-out, I’d have got dressed.’

He leaned over and kissed her. ‘You look wonderful, babe.’

From his concealed position near the gate, Rick Washington watched them walk into the hallway, then said quietly, ‘Hello, again, Jack.’

It took almost ten minutes for him to move from the gate and up to the house. Each time looking for a secure and concealing position, always with his eyes on the building. As he moved to the side of the property he could see the conservatory and lake. ‘Nice place, Jack,’ he said under his breath, ‘shame it’s all gonna come down around your head.’

In the conservatory, Jack was scrolling through emails on his phone. Nicole and Svetlana played with the twins on the big rug.

Outside, Washington gently moved the ivy at the side of the glass wall and carefully peered into the conservatory. He steadied his breathing and then took the Smith & Wesson from his belt. He covered the ten feet to the open doors in a second.

The piercing noise of Svetlana’s scream shocked everyone.

Jack jumped up at the sound and then turned to see his old adversary, the chrome revolver glinting in his hand. ‘Take it easy, Jack. Don’t try anything stupid,’ he pointed to the twins, ‘they’ll get it first.’

Nicole moved to gather up her children. Washington yelled, ‘Don’t move. Stay still.’

Svetlana began to whimper.

‘Shut the fuck up,’ snarled Washington.

‘Take it easy,’ said Jack. ‘It’s me you want. Leave them out of this.’

‘You shut the fuck up too. I’m in charge here. Who else is in the house?’

‘No one,’ said Nicole.

Washington smiled. ‘Now don’t be telling me any lies, honey. Or someone might get hurt.’

‘There’s a housekeeper in the kitchen. The gardener is on his day off,’ said Jack

Washington pointed to the group on the rug. ‘You. Go get her.’

Svetlana made to move, but Washington said, ‘Not you. You go, Nicole. I know you’ll come back, with your kids here.’

Nicole looked at Jack. He nodded, and she stood up.

‘Oh, and don’t think about calling the police, Mrs Castle. The first sound of a siren and they get it,’ he nodded towards the twins, now in the arms of the sobbing nanny.

A few moments later Nicole and Maggie returned. ‘Ah, the housekeeper. Thank you for joining us. Now, everyone sit down.’

Jack moved towards Nicole and took a seat. ‘What is it you want?’

‘I want everything you took from me, Jack. My three billion pounds, to start with.’

Jack shook his head slightly. ‘I don’t have that kind of money.’

‘No, but daddy does. Doesn’t he, Nicole?’

Washington saw the shadow and, as Brian swung the heavy spade, he ducked. The edge of the tool caught him a glancing blow on the shoulder. He fired. The bullet tore into Brian’s upper chest, spinning him around and out through the open doors.

Jack threw himself at Washington, taking him down with a brutal tackle. ‘Panic room,’ he yelled.

The revolver, knocked from Rick’s hand, slid across the floor and under a side table. The screaming women scooped up the twins and rushed from the conservatory.

Jack rolled over and punched the American hard in the ribs, another blow to the side of his head.

A knee into his groin made Jack yell out, the headbutt stunned him. He clung on to Washington, punching, kneeing, fighting to get the upper hand.

The American freed himself and scrambled to his feet, kicking at Jack, as he tried to pull the Glock from his inside pocket.

Jack rolled away, and then he too was on his feet, just as the second gun was drawn. Again, he charged. They stumbled, across the floor and into the hallway, a tangled mass of arms and legs, fighting, punching, gouging. No quarter given. Just pain for both, as they hit the marble floor.

In the panic room, Nicole held the children close, her eyes transfixed on the CCTV screen. Maggie was sitting in the corner, whimpering, clearly in a state of shock. Svetlana stood next to the children, cursing the attacker in Russian, as the bloody fight unfolded on the tiny monitor.

Jack felt his already bruised ribs break, as the American delivered a vicious elbow hard into his chest, driving the oxygen from his lungs. He yelled in agony, as Washington rammed the switch-blade deep into his thigh.

With the last of his strength, he yanked out the knife and slashed at the American’s back.

Washington screamed, as the razor sharp blade cut deep into his flesh. He tried to stand but slipped on the crimson pool of Jack’s blood.

Then he was on his feet. Heart pounding. Breath hissing from his bloodied mouth. The Glock in his hand.

They looked at each other, both gasping for breath. Saying nothing.

At last Washington spoke. ‘Jesus Christ, Jack, you’re one tough mother-fucker.’

Jack sat up, holding the bloody wound in his thigh. He grinned, and said, ‘You too.’

‘So, this is it eh, Mr Castle?’

Jack wiped the blood from his eyes, and said, ‘The police will be here any minute. The alarm in the panic room will bring them.’

Washington smiled for a second, then his eyes narrowed, and the smile was gone. ‘I don’t think so, Jack. The nearest police station is at Great Monkton, and that’s at least fifteen minutes’ drive away. And even if they have been told of the alarm, they don’t have an armed unit there,’ he grinned, ‘I don’t suppose there’s much call for gun-toting cops in Berkshire.’

‘They’ll still be here.’

‘Maybe, but that’s not gonna help you, Jack. You Brits are not gonna send your famous bobbies into a gunfight unarmed. No… the soonest a tactical team could get here would be thirty-five, maybe forty minutes from London, and that’s by chopper. You and your family will all be dead, and this house burning to the ground, by then.’

Jack’s mind was racing, his thoughts only of his family. The Panic-Room was secure, fully insulated, self-contained air for twelve hours. A fire wouldn’t harm them. My girls will survive. ‘Get on with it then. Just do me a favour and stop fuckin talking.’

‘Ahh… there it is, the British stiff upper lip. Stoic to the end. Well done, Jack.’

‘Fuck you.’

‘Yes, quite.’ Washington raised the gun and said, ‘I’d toyed with the idea of not killing you immediately. Taking my time. Enjoying it. But I think under the circumstances, time is of the essence, and unfortunately, I need to go. So, its gonna have to be quick.’ The American smiled as he took aim. ‘Bye, Jackie boy.’

The crack of the gunshot was much louder than Jack expected from the silenced weapon. Blood splattered his face and chest, the cloying liquid in his eyes and mouth. For a second he was blinded… then, he looked up at Washington.

The American’s smile had turned into a grimacing death rictus, his forehead blown open.

Then, like an old chimney being brought down in slow motion, Rick Washington, former CIA agent, contract terrorist and mass murderer, finally fell.

For several seconds Jack lay still. The lifeless body pinned him to the floor. He sucked in a lung-full of air, then heaved Washington’s carcass off.

Nicole stood a few yards away, arms outstretched, hands together in the classic shooter’s stance, the chrome Smith & Wesson still pointing to where Washington had stood. A thin wisp of blue smoke drifted from the gun’s muzzle and floated up the stair-well.

Groaning, Jack pulled himself up and limped slowly towards her. The beautiful face pale, tears trickled slowly down her cheeks.

‘Nicole… It’s me, darling. It’s Jack. Give me the gun.’ He slowly moved to her side and gently eased the weapon from her now trembling hands. ‘Nicole,’ he said softly, ‘everything’s alright, my darling. You’re safe. Our girls are safe. I’m safe.’

She slowly turned to him and looked up at his blood spattered face. ‘Jack?’

He wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest. ‘Yes, it’s me, Nikki. It’s me.’