Folly Du Jour - Barbara Cleverly [104]
Joe decided to ignore her bluster and concentrate on the present danger. ‘Tell me about him quickly, your Flavius. Is he a one off or is he at the head of a pack?’
He looked again at his watch.
‘He’s from the south. Not bright but quick enough. Vicious. Ex-Foreign Legion. Knife or gun, he doesn’t mind. He’ll have one of each in his hands at the moment. He’s right-handed. He’ll use the knife if he can – we like to avoid noises up here – but if he has to, he’ll shoot you with his pistol. It’s fitted with a silencer. He’s top house dog but there’s a security staff of four more always on the premises. They are wolves. Two North African, two Parisian. Armed. They have discreet house guns for indoor work. Beretta 6.35s. Last year’s model. At the first sign of trouble, two will go out through the back exit and circle round. Two will come straight down the main corridor to back up Flavius.’
‘Where are they all at the moment?’
‘Flavius is right there, as you guessed, at the door. The others?’ She shrugged. ‘Playing cards in their room. It’s ten yards down the corridor to the left. Playing with the girls, given half a chance. They won’t be expecting trouble at this early hour and the girls won’t be busy. We like to keep the staff sweet.’
Joe went to the sideboard. ‘More champagne, m’dear?’ he asked in a louder, drunken voice. ‘Jolly good drop of fizz you keep! What?’ He clinked a glass against the bottle at the moment he pulled open the drawer. It opened silently. He took out the Luger.
‘It’s fully loaded. I did it myself,’ she mouthed.
Joe checked it anyway.
She shuddered as he reached behind his back and took a pair of handcuffs from under his jacket. ‘I borrowed these from a colleague,’ he murmured. ‘I think I can make them work. Do I need to put them on you?’
‘No. I’ll be more use with my hands free. And don’t forget we have to get out through the club. They’re not used to seeing women in cuffs. And they’re not very fond of the police. They might object.’
He slipped them back through his belt.
‘Come closer to the door but stay well to the side. I don’t forget he’s got my Browning. If he fires that into the room the bullet won’t stop until it hits the towers of Notre Dame. Remind me – which way does the door open?’
‘Inwards.’
‘Listen! When I nod, you’re to squeal. Not loudly. Enough to encourage him to come in to investigate. Okay?’
‘Ready.’
Joe took a deep breath then nodded.
Alice squealed.
Joe waited one second then blasted the door with four rounds. The wood splintered as the bullets tore through the flimsy structure. A lozenge pattern of blackened holes marked out a target area two feet square which would reach from throat to abdomen on a six foot two inch man standing at the door.
If, indeed, he had been standing at the door.
Joe heard no scream or oath. Not even a grunt.
Crouching to the side, he listened. Not a sound. No time to wait. The wolves would be slamming down their cards, saying, ‘What the hell was that?’ or murmuring ‘Excuse me, ma’am’ and unsheathing their Berettas. Covering the door space with his gun, Joe reached out, turned the knob and flung the remains of the door open into the room.
Alice made a little wuffling sound in her throat.
Flavius was utterly silent. His huge body lay collapsed, sandbagging the doorway, still pumping out blood from at least two wounds. No screams because the highest and first of the bullets had shot out his throat.
Alice was faster than Joe. She leapt straight at the obstacle, scrambling in high satin heels over the twitching body. Joe followed. As they reached the door to the stairs Alice fiddled with the bolt and double lock and a gathering roar rumbled