Blue Moon #3 (Story of Us Series - Into the Blue) - Sydney Jamesson Page 0,63

could mean that this has all been a decoy and that—”

“What!” I yell at the top of my voice. “Tell me what’s happening!”

Lester’s expression is dire, guilt-ridden. “We suspect the other one has gone after Beth, knowing we’d all be here.”

The bottom just fell out of my world. I thought I’d lost her once—I was reprieved. She was safe. I can’t lose her again.

With my nerves in tatters and so enraged I can see only red, I take hold of Pendleton by his lapels and pin him against the side of the van. “Look. If there’s the slightest chance that fucker in there knows where his partner is, then I want to know. Do you understand?”

“I do, but—“

“Five minutes.” I push him harder into the van, rippling his suit around his throat like a torn scarf.

“I can’t—“

“Four minutes. You go take a walk and I’ll ask him a couple of questions. That’s all I’m asking for.”

“It’s more than my job’s worth, Mr. Stone.”

“Do you think I give a shit about your fucking job when my wife could be fighting for her life out there on the ocean? You let anything happen to her and I’ll make it my personal mission in life to ruin you. I’ll have you fired from MI5 and make sure you never work for any other reputable organisation ever again!”

He lowers his head. “Four minutes. That’s it. Then we’ll take him away for processing.”

I untangle my fingers and dust off his jacket. “Thank you. Four minutes is all I need.”

Pendleton calls over his fellow officers. They disappear into the van and bring out the stand-in in handcuffs; he’s clearly terrified and way out of his depth. He sits in the back of the limousine, guarded on both sides by suited officers from MI5 and Interpol.

Three of us enter the van: Lester, Captain Bell and myself. It’s more spacious than I had expected, there is a light above the head of my would-be killer who, up-close, is rather unimpressive. He’s wearing all black to aid his nocturnal plundering and handcuffed. His dark clothes are covered in dust but other than that he seems okay. Deep scars from scratches along his left cheek are just visible beneath the grime.

Outside, the remaining members of the crew are manning the doors which Lester is now closing with instructions: “Don’t let anyone in.”

Four minutes.

“You know who I am?” I ask, getting right to the point.

He refuses to acknowledge my presence.

Unable to hold back, I swing my right arm and hear a crunching sound as my fist connects with his jaw. “I’ll ask you again. Do you know who I am?”

“Yes. I know who you are,” he mumbles in accented English, spitting out blood onto the floor.

Three minutes.

“Good. Then you know my wife, yes?”

He nods.

“Is she still your primary target?”

He smirks.

You fucker!

That look confirms that tonight’s explosive episode has been no more than a distraction. Beth’s life is hanging by a thread.

“When’s your partner going to strike?”

He raises his chin; his eyes meet mine. “I don’t know.”

“Bullshit! You’ve been biding your time, waiting for the right moment.” I look into his eyes and see a soulless, shadow of a man. “When?”

One minute left.

From nowhere, Lester takes the Captain’s pistol from his holster and points it down between our captive’s legs and fires. Within seconds there’s the sound of a scuffle outside the door. Pendleton’s men are trying to get in. The crew are holding them off. We have less than a minute.

“Mr. Stone is a patient man. I’m not,” Lester growls, in no mood for games.

“You nearly shot me!” he yells, squirming on the bench.

“I missed. I won’t next time. Answer the question. When?”

I take a step back as Lester points the gun at his left kneecap.

Despite the noise of the battle going on outside and the countdown in my head, an eerie silence develops; I’m seeing this scene as an observer, looking at each of the players, one at a time, and wondering when will this fucking nightmare end?

Lester tilts his hand. “I said, when?”

Our captive seeks out my eyes and snarls, “Now.”

That one terrifying word is so powerful it almost bursts my eardrums. Filled with dread and murderous intent, I wince and reach for his throat. Before my hands make contact, Lester drags me away while I swipe at him like a madman.

“No! Leave it! There’s no time.” Lester shoulders me towards the door. “There’s no time.”

With a heart close to exploding in my chest, I step from the van,