like a rugby player ready to throw the ball, he propels the heavy golden icon hard at the big man, his hurl slamming him square in his stomach and instantly winding him. He doubles over dropping his gun and the gold spins across the floor out of sight, as he tries to catch a lungful of air. Steffi is too slow to react and I bring my arm forward and with all the strength I have ram my elbow hard backward into her chest, breaking a rib I hear it crack. Kurt is at my side and grabs the knife quickly, like we’ve practised it in our minds, Steffi lashes out and I elbow her in the face breaking her nose. Blood everywhere, she is crying about her beautiful face, she might be thank full to be less beautiful in prison. I hold her in a half Nelson with her arm twisted high so it hurts, I’m not sorry.
Note to self, definitely watch less crime drama.
The other man Emilio, raises his gun at Stan with a nasty growl on his face like a wild animal, he obviously loves killing things and a human, well that’s just another little animal that will lose it life for his entertainment and the treasure will be his.
Or so he believes.
Chapter thirty-three, Monday:4thnovember2013 treachery
Finger on the trigger of the small gun, Emilio waves it frantically as he watches his family crumple to the floor in agony as Liza finishes the big guy off with a roundhouse kick her sensei would be proud of, his head her target spinning so fast and hard spittle and blood sprays out like a Catharine wheel. Kurt gives Steffi a fist to the jaw sending her flying across the floor hitting the wall at speed, which must have hurt, she deserves it. After all, she did leave nasty smears of hand cream all over my keyboard remember? I do, bloody hell.
“I’ve always thought she needed putting in her place,” he says breathless, “she’s a piece of work.”
“Another time maybe.” Daniel tells his brother in a warning tone.
Emilio is crazed, and aims his gun at Daniel, level and close, he wouldn't miss from there. We all hear an ear-splitting 'crack' of gunfire, eyes wide in alarm we stare in disbelief as the gun has gone off. It's Stan’s gun that's hit the mark, he stands there solid and calm with his gun still aimed in an outstretched arm. And the man Emilio is on the floor rolling around in sheer agony as part of his gun-wielding shoulder has exploded, albeit a very small sliver actually, but the effect is quite bloody. I wonder if they'll be able to fight now with these injuries, superficial yes, hurts I bet, then decide I don’t care. Emilio tried to kill us for a little golden eagle.
We tie them all up again, using multi layers of tight knots. We stand and stare in disbelief, numb, silent and exhausted. Paused in mid thought we are still, seconds pass, and I need a brew. “Tea anyone?” I ask, scraping my long hair messy from off my face, and tying it up in a pony. Mum is right.
Further note to self, get my haircut.
The response is a screaming cheering clapping laughing as we all begin to relax. Daniel puts the golden eagle back in its place, wrapping it first reverently in an Isle of Wight tea towel from the kitchen, and we sit back down in the living room saying nothing for a long time. “How rude,” says Nigel suddenly, “we didn't offer them any tea.” Wiping his glasses calmly for the twentieth time on his monographed handkerchief, “no wonder they were pissed!” We laugh so much our bellies ache.
“What do we do now?” Asks Liza cutting into a fruitcake she found in the pantry, “call the authorities? Are there any police around here?” She looks questioningly at Stan expecting him to take charge, as she places chunky slices of dark brandy soaked fruit-cake onto plates for everyone, and we all tuck in hungrily. She unties and reties her ponytail yet again with a dramatic flourish, flicking her golden hair through the sunlit air for the best effect. Thoroughly enjoying herself, she hugs Kurt shutting her eyes tight, he picks her up like she’s a doll and swings her around laughing, and they head upstairs for a little lie-down. Indeed.
TC: “Yep, I was right, totally smitten” like me.
PF: “Maybe we could triple date?” Go back to bed.
TC: “Miss