Matthew Dunn - Slingshot

Will nodded.

Robert dropped his hand into his door’s compartment and placed his hand over the hilt of a Remington 870 shotgun. His demeanor was now completely different. “ Very fast, Mr. Cochrane.”

“Will.” Joanna was staring straight ahead.

Will turned and saw a vehicle’s headlights in the distance. He stepped away from Joanna’s car and moved into darkness. The vehicle passed Betty and Alfie’s car, passed Sarah’s house, passed Will, and continued on up the street. Will checked his watch again. Six twenty-five. He silently cursed, and wondered if Sarah and her husband were delayed at work or had gone out for an early dinner. The last direct flight to Germany tonight was an 8:00 P.M. Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt, but he doubted he’d make it, meaning he’d have to route to Germany via another European capital.

Another set of headlights emerged at the far end of the street. They grew closer, and the car’s engine noise changed as gears shifted and the car slowed. It stopped right outside Sarah’s house, and its ignition was turned off. Doors opened. A woman and man exited the vehicle. Both were dressed in business suits and were clutching leather attache cases. They were Sarah and her husband, James.

They moved to their front door, entered the house, and shut the door behind them, and within seconds all of the downstairs lights were illuminated. Will jogged back down the street until he was by Betty’s car. She lowered her window but wasn’t looking at him, instead had her eyes fixed on the property.

Will muttered, “It’s imperative I have no idea where you’ll take her. But if you get spooked by anything, anything at all, then move to somewhere else. Money’s no object. I’ll cover all costs.”

While keeping her head motionless, Betty replied, “Just get her and her husband in the car. We’ll take it from there.”

He glanced at Joanna and Robert’s car, then back at Betty and Alfie. The old operatives were well past their prime, but they had something that a younger and more agile team couldn’t have: wisdom, and a been-there and seen-it-all wealth of experience. As well as all of that, they were incredible shots. One year ago, Will had watched them assemble at one end of the shooting range at one of MI6’s training facilities. They’d looked like a group of retirees who’d taken a bus trip out of London’s suburbs to catch a bit of fresh country air. The bemused range instructor had given them training on how to hold a Browning 9 mm at eye level and the stance required to compensate for the powerful handgun’s recoil. Betty had been up first. With a grin on her face, she’d ignored the instructor’s advice and, to Will’s amusement, had held the gun with two hands close to her tummy and fired ten shots in eight seconds across the twenty-meter range and had placed all bullets within a three-centimeter spread of the bull’s-eye. The instructor’s jaw had dropped, and he’d said, “You look like me granny. How on Earth did you do that?”

Will knew his sister couldn’t be in better hands.

He walked across the street, strode up to the entrance, hesitated for a moment, then rang the doorbell. As he waited, his stomach was in knots.

James answered the door. The diminutive lawyer had removed his tie and was holding a glass of red wine. As soon as he recognized Will, his expression was hostile and surprised. “What the hell do you want?”

Will looked over the man’s shoulder, down the hallway. “I need to speak to Sarah.”

James’ face turned red. “You’ve got no right to be here.”

From somewhere in the house, Sarah called out, “Who is it, darling?”

James ignored her, lowered his voice, but kept it full of anger. “Leave right now.”

Will shook his head. “I can’t do that, James. Please. It’s vital I speak to her.”

James took a step toward Will. “She doesn’t need you in her life. Not since you got blood on your hands.”

Will recalled Betty imploring him to be civil to his sister and James. He wondered what to say, but before he could stop himself, he blurted, “God, you’ve always been a self-righteous ass.” He pushed past James, spilling the man’s drink over his white shirt, and walked quickly into the house. “Sarah, it’s Will. Don’t be angry with me. I’m here for a reason.”

He walked in the kitchen. Sarah was facing him, leaning against a work surface, her expression neutral. She was tall, pretty, with straight blonde hair.

She said nothing for a while, just stared at him, then, “I didn’t reply to your letters for a reason. I’d have thought that lack of response was a clear message that I wanted nothing to do with you.”

Will stood in the center of the kitchen, trying to hold back nausea. “I don’t understand. I’ve never done anything wrong to you or James.”

In the hallway, James was cursing. No doubt the shirt he was wearing was very expensive.

A trace of a smile emerged on Sarah’s face. Her eyes flickered between the hallway and her brother. “Well, you have now.”

Will waved a hand dismissively. “You’ve both got to come with me. Pack a bag, but we’ve got to be out of here in five minutes.”

Sarah looked incredulous. “ You’ve got to be joking!”

Will shook his head. “You’re in danger. There are people waiting outside who can take you somewhere safe, just for a few days while I sort things out.”

The incredulity turned to anger. “And who brought this danger onto me?”

Will was silent.

Sarah banged a fist against a cupboard. “You bastard!”

“Sarah, please. .”

“Shut up.” She looked confused. “Isn’t it about time you told me what you did for a living?”

Will lowered his head. “I wish. . I. .”

“Yeah, you bloody wish.” Her expression strengthened. “What happens if we don’t leave?”

Sweet talk her, Will.

“You’ll be killed.”

Shock covered her face. Shaking her head wildly, tears now rolling down her cheeks, she shouted, “This is why I don’t want you in our lives. You’re trouble.”

James stormed into the kitchen, anger vivid on his face.

But he turned and fled after both Sarah and Will barked at him in unison, “Get out!”

They returned their attention to each other.

Will’s voice trembled as he said, “You don’t know me, Sarah.”

She hissed, “I know you. I saw how you changed on the day the men killed our mother and you killed them. The Will I knew had been snapped in half.”

Will moved to her and placed his hands on her arms.

She shrugged them away, her voice now tearful, quieter, but still forceful. “Don’t, just don’t. .”

But Will embraced her again, pulling her close to him as a tear ran down his face. “I’m so sorry. So very sorry.”

She held her arms in midair, hesitated, then placed her hands on his back.

They stayed like this for one minute, silently holding each other.

Sarah asked in a near whisper, “The danger you’ve brought onto us-is it because you’re doing something important?”

Will recalled Alistair’s comment.

We don’t know anything about the paper.

He felt wretched, lost for words, and now made no attempt to hold back the tears. “The danger is very real.”

Sarah squeezed him tight, rested her face on his shoulder, and placed a hand delicately on his cheek. “Where have you gone, my little brother?” She gave one last squeeze, then said, “We’ll do what you say on one condition.”

Will sighed. “What?”

She took a step back, glanced at the hallway, then back at her brother. “He’s weak, and is petrified of you. But when you’re not around, he makes me laugh and takes care of me. I need that and he needs that.” She held Will at arm’s length. “We’ll go with your people, so long as you promise me that you’ll never contact me again.”