Dick Francis's Gamble - Felix Francis [87]
“Keep your voice down,” I hissed at her.
“Why?” she said, but much quieter, with concern. She could probably read the fear in my face.
“Please. Just go over to the kitchen.” I looked over at my mother, who was staring at us, still holding the useless telephone receiver in her hand.
Something about the urgency of my voice finally got through to Claudia, and she went over to join my mother.
They both suddenly looked rather frightened.
I went into the small cloakroom next to the front door and peeked through a minute gap in the net curtains at the person standing outside.
He had on a gray-green anorak with the collar turned up, and this time he was wearing a dark blue baseball cap, but there was no doubt it was the same man that I had last seen in the grainy video from Mr. Patel’s newsagent’s, the same man who had gunned down Herb Kovak at Aintree and the same man who had shot at me in Lichfield Grove.
Bugger, I thought, echoing my mother.
I went back into the big room.
The front door had locked automatically when it was closed, with a latch a bit like a Yale’s. It was quite strong, but was it strong enough?
I went quickly across to the kitchen and locked the back door as well, turning the key slowly to keep the noise to a minimum and sliding across the bolt at the top.
Both my mother and Claudia watched my every step.
We heard the man rattle the front door and they both instinctively crouched down below the worktop.
“Who is it?” whispered my mother.
I’d have to tell them.
“Darlings,” I whispered. “He’s a very dangerous man and he’s trying to kill me.”
Claudia’s eyes opened so wide, I thought they would pop out of her head. My mother, however, thought I was joking and began to laugh.
“I’m being serious,” I said, cutting her off in mid-guffaw. “It’s the same man who killed Herb Kovak at Aintree races.”
This time they both looked more frightened than ever. And I was too.
“Call the police,” Claudia said, then remembered, “Oh my God, he’s cut the phone line.”
And the electricity.
The broadband connection would have failed with the power, and our mobiles didn’t have any signal here.
We were on our own.
“Upstairs,” I said quietly but firmly. “Both of you. Now. Lock yourselves in the bathroom, sit on the floor and don’t come out until I tell you to.”
Claudia hesitated a moment, but then she nodded and took my mother by the hand. They started to go but then turned back. “But what are you going to do?” Claudia asked with huge fear in her face.
“Try to keep him out,” I said. “Now, go on, go!”
They disappeared up the boxed-in staircase, and I heard the bathroom door being shut and locked above me.
And if he did get in and kill me, I thought, perhaps he’d leave them alone and go away, job done. As it was, with all three of us down here, I was sure he would have killed us all.
I looked around for some sort of weapon.
A loaded shotgun would have been nice, but my mother had about as much interest in country sports as I did in origami.
I heard the back door being tried, and I instinctively ducked away from it.
The sun went down, the last of its orange rays disappearing from the kitchen window. And it began to get dark, especially indoors with no electric lights to brighten the gathering gloom.
I looked around in desperation for something to use as a weapon. An umbrella stood in a large china pot near the front door, and a walking stick. I grabbed the walking stick, but it was a collapsible model, for ease of packing. So I opted for the umbrella, one of those big golf types with a heavy wooden handle. It wasn’t much, but it was all there was. How I wished the cottage still had a proper open fire with a big, heavy metal poker, but my mother had replaced it with one of those gas things with fake coals.
But at least I had one advantage over my assailant in so far as I could see him much more easily than he could see me.
It was still quite light outside, and I watched him through the windows as he went right around the house. At one point he came close to the kitchen window, cupping his hands