A Devil Is Waiting - Jack Higgins [41]
“Would you look at that?” Fahy cried. “A fella could have a great time giving that one a seeing-to.”
“I saw her first.” Regan reached for the door handle.
“Leave it,” Henri said. “She’s not the target.” He triggered the internal locking device, securing all four doors.
Fahy said, “She’s getting away, for Christ’s sake. This is stupid.”
He reached over and punched Henri in the side of the head, leaned down, and unlocked the doors. The next moment he was standing on the pavement, pulling up his friend, who’d fallen out. They were both swaying a little with the drink taken.
“Get back in, you bloody fools,” Henri said, tried to open his door, but Regan kicked it close.
They both broke into a shambling run. Along the pavement and for the full length ahead, the only sign of life was Sara.
“Will you wait for us, darling?” Fahy called. “We’ll give you the time of your life.”
She glanced over her shoulder, then turned and hurried on, her hand reaching for the Colt, which she was carrying in the right pocket of her leather coat for easy access.
“We must do something,” Kelly said.
“Yes, like getting the hell out of here,” Henri told him as the Alfa appeared down the road, and he swerved the Citroën into the nearest side street, parked, then jumped out and moved back to the corner to see what was going on. As he watched, Kelly joined him, peering over his shoulder.
Sara had just reached the corner of a dark cobbled lane. Regan was a few yards behind and Fahy reached her first, grabbing her scarf, forcing her round and swinging her into the entrance of the lane. She went down, and as she drew the Colt, he leaned over and tried to kiss her. She shot off the lobe of his left ear, and he cried out, blood staining his fingers.
Holley swung the Alfa into the curb, was out in a flash and, as Fahy tried to get up, booted him in the face, sending him backward into the gutter. Regan took one look, swerved into the lane, and kept on running. Fahy heaved himself up, a hand to his ear, and backed away in horror from the Colt in Sara’s right hand, shaking his head dumbly, then turned and stumbled into the darkness.
Sara offered her hand. “A drunken mugger, Daniel. It’s the times we live in.”
He pulled her up. “Are you okay?”
“Of course I am.” She held up the Colt. “I was ready to blow that bastard’s brains out.”
“I’ll take you home.”
“Oh no you won’t. There’s only one place you’re going to take me, and that’s the Dorchester.”Henri Legrande watched the Alfa drive away, having heard and seen everything that had taken place. Kelly said, “What a mess that turned out to be.”
“It could have been worse. He might have beaten the truth out of those two, but his only concern was the woman, which enabled them to get away.”
Henri said, “This lady is quite exceptional. We’ll have to take care with these two.”
They turned and went back to the Citroën.
Rain drummed against the canopy, which Holley had sent out over the terrace at the touch of a button. He sat in the half-light, an open bottle of Dom Perignon on the table. There was only one glass, Sara having taken a refill with her when she had decided to soak in a hot bath in marble splendor.
He poured another and drank it slowly, considering what had happened. The two men involved in the assault had been luckier than they knew, but he felt curiously calm. That she was safe and unharmed was all that mattered.
He called Roper on his Codex and told him what had happened. “What do you think?” he asked.
“That you’re losing your edge. The important question here is: Were these guys just drunken muggers, as Sara said, or were they a couple of thugs hired by somebody to do their worst? What you should have done was kick hell out of one of them