Private Dublin

Chapter 26

The shriek had come from the farmhouse. Andi and I immediately ran toward the building. The grand old home stood three stories high, its long sash windows offering glimpses into a comfortable family room and a formal dining room as we moved from the lawn to the terrace and skirted around the house. I saw shadows moving through the dining-room door, and light spilling from the doorway opposite.

I nodded at Andi and we kept moving around the house. We skirted the north-east corner, hugging the wall, and saw golden light through a picture window. A ceramic teapot and a basil plant on the sill told me this was a kitchen. Beside the window, the back door stood ajar, light slicing through the gap between it and the frame.

I sensed movement on the other side and slowed even more, so my steps were almost painfully deliberate. I glanced round and saw Andi doing likewise, advancing silently across the terrace slabs until she was to the right of the doorway and I was on the left.

There was a grid of glazed panes set into the door, and I peered through one to see a masked man stalking through the kitchen. He glanced around the room before peering through the interior doorway and then looking straight toward the back door.

I knew the kitchen lights would make me difficult to spot, and that night would turn the windows into mirrors, but still I ducked back, unwilling to take any unnecessary risks. I looked at Andi, pointed into the kitchen and held up one finger. I could see only one man, but I knew the others were somewhere in the house. Their muffled voices were audible, though their words were indistinct.

I held up my hand and pointed at my chest before indicating the doorway. Andi nodded, clearly understanding my intention to enter the building.

I peered inside again and saw the masked man had turned away from the back door and was looking into the interior of the house. I took a deep breath and eased the door a little wider. I almost cursed when the hinges creaked. My heart, which had already been pulsing adrenalin to my extremities, went into overdrive as the masked man turned to face me, his wide eyes making his shock palpable.

I took advantage of his surprise to rush him. He cried out as I body-slammed him against a large, American-style double fridge. He tried to reach into his jacket, and I guessed he was going for a gun, so I punched him in the gut, and as he buckled, forced his head down into my knee.

The blow knocked him out. I caught him and eased his fall to minimize noise.

“Let him go,” a man’s voice said, and I turned to see one of the other masked invaders standing in the inner doorway. He aimed a pistol at me.

I raised my hands and stepped forward, edging closer to my captor.

“Who are you?” he asked.

I was saved from having to answer by the sound of the back door slamming against the wall. The masked gunman instinctively pointed the pistol at the open doorway, and I exploited his mistake and launched myself at him as he tried to swing the weapon in my direction. But I was already inside his reach and blocked his gun hand before driving my right fist into his cheek. He staggered back, clutching his face, and caught me with a lucky blow to my head. The weight of the gun connecting with my temple made stars fill my vision. I couldn’t see clearly, but I felt the gunman punch me in the stomach and then hit my head with the gun again.

This time I went down, but I tried to focus. I needed to find my reserves of strength, but my head was swimming and my limbs were weak and unresponsive. I was in grave danger and had a vague sense of a shadow sweeping toward me. I was pretty sure it was the gun.

A loud crack startled me, and the sickening sound was followed by a grunt. The shadow in front of me fell away to one side. As my senses returned, I realized the masked gunman had collapsed at my feet and that it was Andi standing behind his prone body, holding a heavy black frying pan.