When you least expect it

…

After an hour passed, and no one had come looking for our intruder, darkness had fallen, the mother had taken the three children off in the car, and the people in the house had all left, leaving Dicostini to sit at the table reading a newspaper.

He didn’t seem to be too interested in running or working on his farm.  Maybe if he took more of an interest, it might be turning over a profit.

Behind me, I could hear our would-be assailant stirring and finding himself very tightly bound and gagged.  I turned around.  “If you know what’s good for you, I’d go back to sleep.  Either way, make any noise I will shoot you.”  I held up the silenced gun and waved it for emphasis.

“You do realise he has seen us, don’t you?”

“Do you want me to shoot him?”

“Well, you know what he’s going to do when he gets free.”

I did, but I wasn’t going to tell her.  I’d sent a text message to Alfie and he would be collected the moment we left the clearing.

Another hour passed when I noticed a shadow behind Dicostini who, now, had slumped forward, perhaps asleep.  The shadow materialised into a human form, and then a woman.  When the pale light from a wall lamp shone on her face, I recognised it instantly.

The fake countess.

She shook him by the shoulder, and when he roused, he stood and looked like he was yelling at her.

Juliet came over and lay down next to me.  “What’s happening?”

“The fake countess just came out of the woodwork.  That’s our cue?”

“For what?”

“Storming the battlements.  Taking no prisoners.  Or perhaps just ask a few questions and reasonably expect answers.”

I stood and dismantled the rifle and put the parts back in the case. 

“Grab the bag, we’re on the clock.”

“What about him?”  She nodded in the man’s direction.  His eyes told the story, he didn’t like being tied up like that.

“Hopefully he’s learned a valuable lesson, don’t go blundering around in the undergrowth.”

We stowed the gun and bag in the car and headed back towards the farmhouse by a different route.  It was dark enough that we didn’t have to try too hard to stay in the shadows.

Lucking Juliet had thought to wear black.

“When we stopped behind the wall of one of the outhouses, I could hear her in my ear, “So, do I get a gun?”

“No.”

“What do I do when the shit hits the fan?”

“The same as me.  Duck.”

She punched me, which was not unexpected.

We made it to the back of the house, and to a window that looked in over an open-plan living area.  We had heard voices as we approached the house, now they were clearer we could see them.

“…part of staying out of sight didn’t you get?”  Dicostini was angry.

“In that little hole, you put me in?”

“You’re safe there, for the time being.”

“They know, you know.  It’s just a question of whether they’ve told Von Burkhardt.”

“Do you want me to go over there and ask?”

“You should have killed them all when you had the chance, not just the son and the father.  Like everything else you’ve done, this is going to end up an utter failure.”

He was going to say something but didn’t.  Instead, filled with pent-up rage, he hit her.  I thought it had been with an open hand, but it was a fist, and so hard she spun sideways, hit her head on the solid wooden table with a sickening thud and then just flopped like a rag doll on the ground.

So engrossed in watching those events unfold, I forgot about Juliet and suddenly felt what might be the barrel of a gun in my back.

Juliet!

© Charles Heath 2023