Adrian Magson - No Tears for the Lost

It was too late to duck back. Riley kept going, straightening her forearm and swinging it into the man’s throat with all the power she could muster.

He made a harsh, choking noise and hit the ground on his back, leaving behind an aroma of fried onions. His gun flew away and hit the wall of the house, where it went off with a bang and a flash, lighting up the surrounding area like a flare. With no time to scoop it up, Riley kept running, bouncing off the doorframe and falling inside.

Behind her, the man clambered to his feet and scrabbled away, shouting in a hoarse voice for someone called Baga. Or maybe he knew some English.

It was deathly quiet inside the house after the sound of the shot, with just the heavy tick of a clock somewhere nearby. She was in the kitchen. There were no lights on, but the room was saved from total darkness by a couple of red pilot lights on the wall above the cookers.

Riley waited until she got her breath back, then inched through the gloom, feeling her way across the stone-flagged floor until she reached the door of the storeroom. She pushed it open and stepped inside.

‘You took your time.’ The voice came in the same instant that the light came on, and Riley thought her heart was going to stop. She spun round, flattening herself against a wall.

It was Palmer, leaning against the metal cabinet as if he was waiting for tea to be served. He looked unruffled but serious.

‘I’ve been up on the roof waiting for you to do something!’ Riley muttered scathingly, determined not to show how scared she was. She brushed him aside and opened the gun cabinet. It gave her something to do while she hid her enormous relief at seeing him, and to steady her breathing. If she even thought about what she was doing right now, she’d probably fall to pieces.

To her relief, the cabinet still contained the shotgun and the box of cartridges. ‘Why?’ she asked. ‘What have you been doing?’

‘Waiting for you, mostly. I figured you’d be along eventually-’ He broke off, staring at her chest. ‘Christ, what did you do up there — slaughter a heifer?’

‘What?’ She peered down and was horrified to see her jacket and shirt were drenched with darkening blood, with more on her hands and arms. It must have come from helping Sir Kenneth up the stairs to the roof. She also had a cut on one hand, probably caused by the piece of flying masonry. Fortunately, it wasn’t serious. ‘I didn’t realise… damn — my favourite jacket!’ She tugged at a large tear in one sleeve, and felt a chill in her stomach as she realised how close the bullet had come.

Palmer cast around and grabbed a sweatshirt hanging on a hook behind the door. He gestured to a small sink on the other side of the room. ‘You might want to wash your hands and put this on. I’ll watch your back while you change.’ He gave a tight smile. ‘Glad to see it’s not your blood.’ Then he turned away to watch the door, suddenly awkward.

Riley nodded, feeling nauseous at the sight of the blood, but oddly touched by Palmer’s concern. ‘Thanks.’ She stripped off her jacket and shirt, unselfconscious about him turning round and seeing her in her frillies. Now, she figured, wasn’t the time for girlish modesty. She washed her hands and arms thoroughly, turning the water pink, then dried them on a handful of paper towels. ‘What were the shots I heard?’

‘You mean apart from the ones they were firing at you?’ He handed her the sweatshirt. ‘No idea. I think they were getting nervous and making noises for the sake of it.’

‘There was something burning when I got here. Was that you?’

‘Guilty, m’lady,’ he admitted. ‘By the fiendish application of paper, old leaves and rubbing two sticks together, I created a diversion and Henzigger sent one of his gunmen to investigate. We bumped into each other, but he didn’t want to dance.’

‘Bumped?’ She wanted to ask if the man had got up and walked away again, but decided against it. If Palmer was still on his feet and unharmed, it seemed doubtful.

He hefted an automatic pistol she hadn’t noticed before and smiled regretfully. ‘Only bumped, I’m afraid. He was too quick on his feet. Have you seen Myburghe?’

‘I had to leave him on the roof. Henzigger shot him.’

‘Christ. How bad?’

‘He needs a hospital, but I don’t think he’ll last long enough.’ She described where she’d left Myburghe and the Colombian, and told him of her brief exchange with the man outside.

‘Damn,’ Palmer said calmly. ‘I must be getting deaf — I didn’t hear that one coming.’ He checked the magazine of the automatic and said, ‘So we’ve got one man — possibly two — and Henzigger.’

‘And Mitcheson. He’s armed, by the way.’

Palmer nodded, unsurprised. ‘I had a feeling he was out there. Thanks for the warning.’

‘I also called Weller. He’s on his way in with an armed response team.’

‘How much time have we got?’

‘Fifteen minutes, at a guess. Why?’

‘Too long. Henzigger’s not going to sit around waiting. They had a plane arranged to take them out, but it failed to turn up. That’s why he’s so pissed. He’ll want to finish this, and the longer we leave him, the more likely he is to find us. The odds aren’t great.’

‘Why won’t he run?’

‘He will, eventually. But we’re not dealing with rational men; he’ll want to silence us, and his Colombians won’t dare go back without knowing Myburghe is dead.’

‘What do you suggest?’

He took the shotgun out of the cabinet and loaded it, then handed it to her with some spare cartridges. He jerked his head towards the roof. ‘You’ll be better off back on the roof watching Myburghe. Try to keep him awake. I’ll see if I can hook up with Mitcheson without him blowing me away. Anyone comes over the roof or through the door without singing out who they are, point and pull.’

Riley resisted the idea. ‘But-’

‘But nothing.’ John Mitcheson’s voice came from right outside the door. ‘This isn’t your thing, Riley. It’s ours. We need to know you’re safely out of the way. Go now. We’ll watch your back.’

Riley did as instructed, waving at Mitcheson’s dense shadow against the wall as she passed.

Palmer watched Riley go, ready for the first sign of movement by the trees. He waited for her to disappear among the scaffolding, before turning towards Mitcheson.

‘You heard?’ he said. ‘We’ve got company coming.’

‘Yeah. Not soon enough, though. Let’s finish it.’

Palmer nodded. ‘It might be best if you aren’t seen here.’

Mitcheson grunted. ‘I’ll deal with it when it comes, don’t worry.’

Palmer scanned the gardens for signs of activity. But if Henzigger was out there, he was keeping his head down. And probably becoming more desperate by the minute. Men like Toby Henzigger were resourceful, and with a briefcase full of money, there would be plenty of takers with boats and small aircraft willing to provide an escape route, no questions asked.

For the moment, though, he knew Henzigger wanted to finish it on his terms. Without Riley, Palmer or Myburghe to testify to his involvement in the drugs shipments, the American probably reasoned on having a good chance of getting away free. He also had to satisfy his Colombian watchers that he had control of the mopping-up, otherwise they might have orders to demonstrate their displeasure in an extreme way.

Which made Riley and Myburghe the main targets for his anger.

The only spoiler was he and Mitcheson being stuck here clutching weapons when, any minute now, Weller’s men might come swarming down out of the night sky. Awkward wouldn’t even come close.