Second Shot

“Because it’s great for concealed carry and because I thought that if I ever did have to use it, something this size would stop a truck.”

Sean smiled at her. “If Vaughan’s in that damned Humvee of his, we might be glad of it.”

“Just who is this Vaughan bastard?” Matt demanded. He was sitting hunched up, arms wrapped round his body like he was about to be physically sick.

“He’s another ex-Special Ops man,” Neagley supplied. “Spent the best part of four decades with the U.S. military, but he left in an all-fired hurry a couple of years back. Something to do with army supplies for the Gulf disappearing and turning up on the civilian market. They couldn’t prove anything, but there was enough suspicion to get him kicked out.”

I moved carefully round in my seat so I could see her face. “These stolen supplies wouldn’t have been turning up at surplus outlets not unlike the Lucases’ place, would they?” I asked, and she nodded. “Well, that explains their connection, I suppose.”

“Fuck that,” Matt said sourly. “What the hell’s he doing kidnapping Ella?”

“It all boils down to money,” Neagley said. “Vaughan wants it. Ella’s the key”

Matt rubbed his hands slowly over his face. “How I wish Simone had never bought that bloody ticket,” he said. “You think it’s going to be the answer to all your prayers, don’t you? But it’s been a nightmare from start to finish.”

‘And it’s going to get worse before it gets better-one way or another,” Neagley said grimly.

“Heads-up,” Sean murmured. “Those look like Range Rover headlights.”

He was right. The Lucases drove the length of the car park towards us very slowly, like they were looking for indications that we were going to cause them trouble along the way. I suppose I couldn’t blame either of them for being nervous, under the circumstances.

The Range Rover came to a halt about ten meters away and I saw vague movement beyond the lights as both front doors opened.

Sean put his hand on the door handle and glanced sideways at me.

“Don’t bother saying it,” I warned. “I’m coming, too.”

He shrugged and climbed out without a word, leaving me to make my own way

Both sides met on the middle ground, like some kind of Cold War exchange. It was starting to snow again, I saw, tiny butterfly flakes that swirled in the combined beams of the lights from both vehicles, and it was colder than the grave. I thought the period in the car had warmed me through, but I quickly discovered it was all superficial. As soon as I was outside again, I froze down to my bones almost instantly.

It’s just like Christmas, Mummy, Ella had said in Boston.

Not like Christmas now, Ella….

Lucas and Sean approached until they were only a meter or so apart and stopped to stare at each other in the sparkling glow from the light-wrapped trees. Lucas waited until I’d haltingly closed up to them before he asked, “So who’s this?” without taking his eyes off Sean.

“Sean Meyer,” I said, short. “My boss.”

“Ah.” Lucas nodded slightly, barely a twitch, as though he knew if he made any sudden moves he was likely to get bitten.

Sean watched him, shoulders apparently relaxed, completely expressionless. Lucas’s eyes kept flicking nervously to Sean’s hands, which were buried in his coat pockets, as though he could sense the Beretta hidden beneath the material.

“We’re wasting time,” Rosalind said, the sharpness in her voice not quite masking something I took to be fear that vibrated along under the surface. “We know Felix has got Ella, for God’s sake! What are we waiting for?”

Lucas, galvanized by the urgency in his wife’s voice, started to move, clearly expecting us to follow.

“Hold it,” Sean said quietly. “We’re not going anywhere until we’ve got a few things settled.”

Lucas threw him a look of pure distaste. “You want to haggle over a price for my granddaughter’s life, is that it?” he jeered.

Matt pushed his way forwards. “She’s my daughter,” he said. “D’you really think we don’t care what happens to her?”

Lucas stared at him, then let his eyes skim across the rest of us. I don’t know what he expected to see there, because he made a brief gesture of impatience. “I don’t need your help anyway,” he muttered, turning his back and taking a step towards the Range Rover.

“You do need us, or you wouldn’t be here,” Sean said. “Maybe the Greg Lucas who served at Goose Green and Port Stanley might not need our help, but a salesman like John Ashworth certainly does.”

Lucas arched and froze like he’d been speared between the shoulder blades. I saw his head move slightly, making eye contact with Rosalind. Her mouth thinned and she dropped her gaze, almost an admission of defeat.