Desmond Bagley - Windfall

He ran his fingers along a hairline crack and found the hinge. The trap door was square and it must have been what he saw when it was standing open. 'Take cover, Ben, and warn the others. He might pop off again.' He pulled open the metal flap, put his finger through the ring, and lifted. The door opened easily and he had lifted it about nine inches when there was another shot and a bullet ricochetted from the wall.

Stafford let the door drop and stood on it. Hardin stepped forward from where he had been pressed against the wall. 'Looks like a Mexican stand-off. We can't get down and he can't get up. But if he has a telephone down there he'll be calling for reinforcements.'

Stafford had not thought of that. 'Sergeant!' he shouted. 'If you find any telephone wires cut them, and keep a watch out there.' Hardin was right, he thought. Unless there was another way out of the cellar which he thought unlikely. The entrance to the cellar on which he stood was cleverly disguised; another entrance would double the chances of the cellar being discovered.

He snapped his fingers suddenly. 'Got it! I know how we can winkle him out. Go with Hunt and bring his balloon burner and a couple of butane bottles. We've got a flame thrower of sorts.'

'Jesus!' said Hardin. 'That's nasty.'

'We'll tickle him up, just enough to put the fear of God into him. He'll come out.'

'Okay.' Hardin turned to go, but stopped at the door and looked back. 'I wouldn't stand there,' he advised. 'If he shoots through the door you're likely to lose the family jewels.'

Stafford hastily stood aside and, while waiting for Hardin to come back, he wheeled a console across so that two of its castored legs stood on the trap door and held it down. He then walked to the door and said to Curtis, 'Any signs of activity out there?'

'Nothing here, sir; except that Mr Hardin and Mr Hunt are coming back.' Curtis turned away from the window. 'I'll check the other side.' He crossed the room and walked into the office.

Hardin came in carrying the burner and Hunt followed, staggering under the weight of a butane cylinder. They went into the back room and Hunt put down the cylinder. Stafford said, 'Can you rig this thing?'

'Yes.' Hunt hesitated. 'But I don't know that I want to.'

'Look!' said Stafford, on the verge of losing his temper. He stabbed his finger down at the trap door. 'That man has been shooting at us. He shot on sight – didn't even stop to say "Hello!". He could have killed any one of us, and Christ knows what he's doing now. I want him out. Now get that damned contraption rigged."

'Take it easy, Max,' Hardin said quietly. He looked at Hunt. 'Can I help you?'

'No; I'll do it.' Hunt bent to the burner and Hardin watched him with interest.

'Max was telling me about this,' he said. 'When we were idling on the island. He says it's pretty powerful. Is that so?'

Hunt was connecting tubes. 'It's rated at ten million Btu, but it probably delivers about three-quarters of that.'

'I've never figured out what a British Thermal Unit is,' said Hardin. 'I must have been at a ball game when that came up in class.'

'The amount of heat to raise the temperature of a pound of water by one degree Fahrenheit.'

'And you've got ten million of them in that thing!' Hardin looked across at Stafford. 'Did you say you'd tickle him?'

Stafford smiled slightly. He had cooled down and he knew what Hardin was doing; as an army officer he had done it himself when men were in a jumpy condition. Hardin was soothing Hunt as a man might soothe a fractious horse. Stafford said lightly, 'Quite a cigarette lighter, isn't it?'

The burner consisted of two coils of stainless steel tubing mounted in a rectangular frame so that they could swivel. Hardin said, 'Looks as though you have two burners there. Why?'

'Belt and braces principle,' said Hunt. 'If I'm in the sky. and a burner fails I want to have another quickly.' He turned a cock on the butane cylinder then lit a small pilot burner. The pilot flame burned blue. 'I'm ready."

Stafford said, 'I'll operate it.'

'No,' said Hunt. I'll do it. I know exactly how it works."

'Better think of what's going to happen when you lift that trap,' said Hardin. 'The first thing that'll come through is a bullet."

'Anyone got a knife?' asked Stafford. Hunt produced a pocket knife and Stafford cut a length of electric wiring from a table lamp. He lifted the small metal flap on the trap door and knotted the end of the wire around the ring beneath. He said, 'I'll pull up the trap from here, standing behind it. The trap door itself will protect my legs from the flame. Let the door be open at least a foot before you let go, Alan; and you'd better lie flat on the floor behind the burner. Bullets travel in straight lines so you should be safe. Ben, move that stuff off the trap and then get clear."

Two minutes later he looked at Hunt. 'Ready?' Hunt nodded. 'Give it a good long burst," said Stafford, and hauled the trap door open.

There was a shocking series of chattering explosions as soon as the trap started to move and a stream of bullets came through the opening to strike the ceiling and ricochet around the room. Lights went out as some of the overhead fluorescents were smashed and a monitor screen imploded when hit. Stafford flinched and was about to drop the trap door when Hunt cut loose with the burner. The room was lit by an acid-blue light as a six-foot long flame stabbed down into the basement. The shooting stopped and all that could be heard was the pulsating roar of the burner which seemed to go on interminably.

At last Hunt switched off and the room was quiet. Stafford dropped the trap door back into place and looked around. 'Everyone all right?"

Hardin was clutching his upper right arm. 'I caught one, Max. What the hell was that? A machine-gun?"

'I don't think so," said Stafford. 'My guess is that it was a 3"

Kalashnikov on automatic fire.' He looked at the blood on Hardin's hand. 'A ricochet, Ben. If you'd stopped a direct hit at that range it would have torn your arm off. This is beginning to get bloody dangerous.' He looked down at Hunt. 'Are you all right?'

Hunt was pale but nodded. He said, 'The shooting stopped.'

'But was it because of us?' asked Stafford. 'Or did his magazine run out?' He looked up and saw Curtis standing in the doorway. 'Get back on watch, Sergeant. That doorway is in the line of fire.'

'Yes, sir,' said Curtis smartly, and disappeared from view.

'Are you ready to give it another go?' asked Stafford, and Hunt nodded. 'All right. I'll open the door. If there's no shooting give him a short burst and stop. If he shoots let him have it – a good long blast.' He turned his head. 'Ben, get the hell out of here.'

Hardin jerked his head. 'I'll be behind that bench.'

'Take this then and stay ready.' He gave Hardin the pistol and took up the slack on the wire, nodded to Hunt, and hauled the trap door open. There was silence for a moment and then again the flame stabbed out with a stomach-tightening rumble. Hunt let it play for only a few seconds then turned it off.

Again there was silence.

Stafford shouted, 'Hey! You down there! Come up with your hands empty. You have fifteen seconds or you'll fry.'

There came a distant call. 'I'm coming. Don't burn me.'

Footsteps were heard climbing the stairs and a man appeared. His hair had been burned away and blisters were beginning to show on his face and the backs of his hands. Stafford said curtly, 'Out!' and he climbed up into the room. Hardin moved forward holding the pistol.

'Anyone else down there?' demanded Stafford. The man shook his head dumbly, and Stafford said, 'We'll make sure. Give it another long squirt, Alan.'

'Nee, man, nee' the man shouted. 'Jy kan nie…' His words were lost as Hunt turned on the burner in a long sustained blast. He turned to run but was stopped at the door by Hardin with the pistol. The burner stopped and then things began to happen so fast that Stafford was bemused.