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.’
Epilogue
In The Chiltern Clinic, one of the most exclusive private hospitals in Berkshire, Maggie Walker sat at her husband’s bedside. ‘How’re you feeling today, love?’
‘Getting better, Mags. Don’t worry, old love.’
‘I was thinking, Brian. Maybe it’s time to retire?’
As he grinned, he held his hand to the heavy dressing on his chest. ‘And what, miss out on all this fun?’
In the upstairs office of Les Plumes, Madame Sofie looked at the pile of cash in front of her.
‘How much did you say, Daniel?’
‘Almost four-hundred thousand, Madame.’
‘From behind the wardrobe?’
‘Oui, Madame.’
She smiled then counted out fifty-thousand. She slid the pile across her desk to the handsome Frenchman, blew him a kiss and said, ‘That’s for you, sugar.’
Sir Anthony Grainger’s funeral was attended by over three hundred of the great-and-the-good, including the Prime Minister and her Cabinet. As his coffin was carried from the Church, Gary, his former Special Branch bodyguard, said to himself, I told you I should have come with you, Sir Anthony.
In Wales, a couple of fell walkers sat down to rest by a burnt-out farmhouse. The day was clear, and they could see all the way to the Irish Sea. After finishing their energy drinks, they were about to leave, when a peregrine falcon swooped down and perched on the carcass of the farmhouse.
‘Look at that,’ said one.
‘Yeah, what a beautiful bird.’
Their voices startled the hunter and it took flight. For several seconds they watched the elegant creature soar higher and higher, then disappear into the clear blue sky.
Two blocks from Red Square, Bogdan Markov walked out of the Moskva-Siti Bank with a huge grin on his face. His brother Grigory waited in the big Mercedes.
As his brother climbed in, Grigory said, ‘Okay?’
Bogdan nodded, took a sheet of paper from his inside pocket, and handed it to Grigory.
Grigory’s mouth fell open. ‘Three million sterling?’
‘Da,’ said Bogdan,’ three million sterling.’
They both laughed.
A courier arrived at the big house in East Monkton. At the door he handed Jack a large envelope, embossed with the seal of the British Government. Inside was a hand written letter from the Prime Minister, which read…
Dear Jack.
I cannot express my gratitude enough, for your key role in the successful outcome of the recent enterprise. I am told you have sustained several injuries, from which I hope you will soon be fully recovered.
I would also like to extend an invitation to you and your wife, to spend the weekend with us at Chequers, once you are fully able.
Finally, and I am delighted to advise, you will receive the Order of the British Empire, in the New Year. We would however appreciate your discretion, until your award is advised formally in the usual manner.
Please extend my best wishes to your lady wife and thank you once again.
RS
In the Great Hall of the Castello San Lorenzo, a short ceremony was coming to a close. Thirteen chairs were arranged in a circle, all save one, were occupied. In the centre, stood a man dressed in evening wear. Over his clothes he wore a white linen tabard, emblazoned with a red cruciform cross. In one hand he held an old leather bound bible, in the other, an ornate dagger.