Dark Side of the Street - Jack Higgins [65]
"He's fine," Chavasse said soothingly. "He's gone down to the jetty."
She stared at him blankly. "I don't understand."
He pushed her gently down on the bench. "They're leaving, Molly, and Harry's going with them. They need him to run the boat."
"But what about me?" she said. "He wouldn't leave me? He'll take me with him?"
"I wouldn't count on that."
She got to her feet, her eyes wild. "They're taking him by force, aren't they?" She turned without waiting for an answer. "What can we do, Paul? There must be something."
There was obviously nothing to be gained from any further discussion and Chavasse didn't try. It was almost half past nine now and he lit a cigarette and sat down on the bench.
Vaughan would be coming very soon and there was nothing he could do about that either. Whatever happened, it would be handled with ice-cold efficiency and with no chances offered for sudden grabs or in-fighting. The man was too much of a professional to make silly mistakes. No point in telling the girl--it would only make it harder for her.
There was a footstep in the passage outside, the rattle of the bolt and the door opened. Vaughan stayed well back, the gun in his right hand as steady as a rock.
"Outside, we're taking a little walk."
"I want to speak to Stavru," Chavasse said. "Tell him I'm ready to make a deal."
"He doesn't need one, old man, and you're too late anyway. He's gone down to the boat. In fact we're just about ready for off."
The girl seemed completely bewildered by all this. "What's happening, Paul? Where are we going?"
"Just do as you're told, sweetie," Vaughan said. "Much better in the long run."
They went up the steps from the basement, Vaughan staying well back and somehow there was a terrible inevitability about everything. When they reached the study, Chavasse paused and said desperately, "How do you know they won't clear off without you?"
"With what I've got stored away up here?" Vaughan tapped his forehead and smiled cheerfully. "Don't be silly and keep moving, there's a good chap. We haven't got much time."
It was raining harder than ever as they went out through the french windows and crossed the lawn. It was very quiet in the wood, the only sound the rain hissing down through the branches, and the girl stumbled along in front, Chavasse behind her, Vaughan bringing up the rear.
There would be no sudden warning, no order to halt and turn round, Chavasse knew that. Just a bullet in the back of the head. There was really nothing to lose, no matter how suicidal the situation was and Stavru's words came back into his mind. Desperate situations breed desperate remedies.
Molly pushed a branch out of the way as she ploughed through the wet grass. Chavasse caught it, held it for only a moment and ducked, allowing it to sweep back into Vaughan's face. He staggered back with a cry of alarm and Chavasse gave Molly a violent push to one side that sent her tumbling down the slope and ran.
A bullet chipped bark from a tree to one side of him, two more sliced branches over his head and he zigzagged desperately. He stumbled and fell and another bullet kicked dirt in his face and he rolled to one side, screaming in sudden agony as stitches tore loose in his left arm.
He staggered forward, head down, aware of the sound of rushing water somewhere ahead and burst through a final screen of bushes to find himself on the banks of a small stream of clear water that brawled its way down to the sea over a bed of smooth stones.
Two more shots sounded, flat and sinister on the damp air and his right leg doubled up suddenly as if kicked and he went headfirst into the water.
He turned over, aware of the blood drifting in a brown cloud from the hole in his leg and tried to get up. He was too late. There was a tremendous crashing in the undergrowth and Vaughan emerged on the bank above.
His face was very pale, ice-cold, intent only on the job in hand. He said nothing, simply raised the revolver