CHERUB: Divine Madness - Robert Muchamore Page 0,48
kettle up to boil and opened a can of Sprite for himself.
The conversation outside on the patio got louder as he sprinkled Survivor brand coffee granules into a cup. By the time the water boiled, Elliot and Ronnie were standing up, facing each other off across the table.
‘I’ll make you sorry you did this,’ Ronnie shouted.
‘Mr Wildman, if we can just talk this through in a civilised fashion. I’m sure we’ll be able to reach some sort of compromise.’
‘Civilised! The Survivors are the biggest bunch of money-grabbing freaks going. Joel Regan will only get his mitts on my money over my dead body.’
‘It’s not your money, Ronnie,’ his mother reminded him.
As far as James was concerned the two men could kill each other, but Emily looked stressed out and he felt really sorry for her. He didn’t want to carry out the boiling hot coffee when it looked like World War Three was about to erupt, so he stood inside the doorway holding the steaming cup and saucer.
‘It’s all mind games with you people,’ Ronnie growled, tapping his finger against his temple. ‘You’ve messed up her head. She’s in no fit state to make decisions like these any more.’
‘From what your mother tells me, you’ve squandered plenty already,’ Elliot snarled back, losing his slippery cool for the first time James could remember.
‘I bet you’ve got all your big-shot lawyers backing you up as well,’ Ronnie said.
Elliot smiled. ‘If you chose to call the legality of your mother’s will into question, I’m confident that—’
Ronnie’s posture tightened. He snatched a fish knife off the table and screamed as he lunged at Elliot, ‘Don’t you grin at me like that.’
Elliot tried to back away, but got his foot tangled around the leg of his chair. Ronnie plunged the knife into Elliot’s stomach. Emily howled out as Elliot crashed backwards into the glass patio doors.
‘Spend it now,’ Ronnie shouted, as he pulled out the knife.
‘Ronnie,’ Emily screamed desperately.
‘Spend it,’ Ronnie repeated, as he lunged again. ‘Spend it.’
As James saw the second stab, he put down the coffee mug and backed into Emily’s room. Ronnie had a big knife and a murderous rage; this wasn’t a time for half measures. He grabbed Emily’s plastic kettle jug, which was still half-full of boiling water. He unplugged the cord and ripped off the lid.
The second stab had been aimed at Elliot’s chest, but he’d turned away and the only damage was to the shoulder pad of his jacket. As Ronnie lunged a third time, James scrambled on to the patio and threw the boiling water at his head.
It hit from close range, making the stocky man howl as he stumbled backwards, clutching his face. But anger can overcome a great deal of pain and James knew he’d only have an instant while his opponent was stunned to take him down easily. As Ronnie staggered, James clenched the handle of the plastic jug and battered him in the face with it. The plastic splintered in a dozen shards, and Ronnie was unconscious even before his head hit the patio with a hollow thunk.
James snatched the bloody knife from Ronnie’s limp hand, before turning and studying the growing red stain on Elliot’s shirt. Emily had hauled herself out of her chair and was making her way inside.
Elliot waved his hand, indicating that he wanted James to move close so he could say something. ‘Call Judith,’ he gasped. ‘Keep the cops out of this.’
James nodded uncertainly as he reached into Elliot’s jacket and pocketed his mobile phone. He tore open the bloody shirt, making buttons fly in all directions. The wound was too messy to see the extent of the cut, but James knew the number one priority was to stop the blood loss. He pulled his T-shirt over his head, folded it into a square and pressed it against Elliot’s stomach.
‘Listen,’ James said as he placed Elliot’s hand on the cloth. ‘Hold it in place as tight as you can.’
‘It was an accident,’ Elliot repeated. ‘Call Judith. Don’t speak to the police.’
‘All right,’ James said angrily. ‘Maybe I should try and stop you bleeding to death first, eh?’
Emily had hit the emergency alarm beside her bed. James stepped back from Elliot, greatly relieved as a male and female nurse scrambled on to the patio and took control.
‘Sweet Jesus,’ the male nurse said, when he saw Elliot. He looked up at James holding the mobile. ‘Call an ambulance. We can’t deal with this here.’