Death Run (8 page)

As he watched, the bearded man tapped on the wall – on the glass over a large picture, Rich could see now. Then the man raised the gun that was strapped over his shoulder. He turned it in a single, swift movement and smashed the butt into the glass. Then he reached in through the hole he had made and took something out – something small and square.

With a grin of satisfaction, the man showed it to his colleague and they both marched quickly away.

Rich counted to twenty after they had gone, then let himself into the foyer. He could see at once what had been so interesting to the gunmen. It was a board showing photographs of all the school staff. The glass over the board was in pieces now, and there was an empty space where just one picture had been removed.

The printed name tag under the photograph was still there. It told Rich what – or rather who – the gunmen had come for.

It was not until almost seven o'clock that John Chance got to see Ardman. When he did, the man was unrepentant and unsympathetic.

“We had to put him somewhere,” he told Chance.

“At the same school as my children?” Chance was furious. He paced up and down in front of Ardman's desk as he spoke.

Ardman sighed. “You will recall that we agreed for Rich and Jade to go to Cleeveholme Manor because it is out of the way, not well known, quiet and safe. Where better, you said, for them to lose themselves.”

“I remember.”

“Well, the same holds true in this case, surely. I've used the school as a safe house, a staging point for
people of all ages in the past. Not that they realise that of course. You surely cannot assume that you and your children have an exclusive right to safety and anonymity? A safe haven that not even my own superiors know anything about?” He shook his head sadly. “Never had you down as a hypocrite, John.”

“I'm not. This is different.”

“Oh? We need somewhere to hide our new friend the Banker while we make certain arrangements, and he organises some information we need. Where better than a remote, little-known private school where he can impart some of his undoubted knowledge and experience to children eager to learn from him. Including your own children.” Ardman smiled. “I'm doing them a favour, when you think about it.”

“You are doing nothing of the sort. You've sent them somewhere you said was safe, only you forgot to mention you're also hiding a man there that half the world's gangsters are looking for. Including the Tiger.”

Ardman shrugged. “But they aren't going to find him.”

“Can you be sure of that?”

“You know as well as I do that in our business one cannot be sure of anything. So we have to plan for any and every eventuality.”

Chance considered this. “You mean, you have a contingency plan? Some way that the Banker can call for help and back-up if he needs it?”

“Of course.”

“Well, that's something, I suppose.” Chance was calming a little. Maybe having protection nearby wasn't a bad thing. Especially if there was anything in Ralph's anxieties. “So, who is it?” he asked. “You got Goddard down there staying in a bed and breakfast? Or Kyle, maybe…”

“Not exactly.” Ardman shifted slightly in his chair.

Chance leaned across Ardman's desk. “It's me, isn't it?” He could see from Ardman's expression that he was right. “When were you going to tell me?”

“I was hoping not to have to,” Ardman admitted. “But since you ask… Yes, the Banker knows there is someone in the village on call if he needs them. He doesn't know it is you, of course.”

“He does now,” Chance said. “It won't have taken him long to work it out. How does he make contact?”

“He has the number of your mobile phone. His own mobile is linked direct to a satellite – one of our Mercury series, so it's unjammable and fully encrypted. Any trouble, he can call you.”

“It's that simple.”

“I like simple. Simple works. People remember simple. There is one other thing.”

“And what's that?”

“If he does call, get to him as fast as you can. We need him, John. And if he calls, you'll know all hell's breaking loose.”

It was getting darker as the evening drew in, but Rich didn't dare put the lights on. He crept across the school office to the school secretary's desk. She kept it clear and tidy. Just in-and out-trays, a pile of large notebooks and ledgers, and the phone. A light blinked on the phone, showing there was a message. Not that Rich cared. He wasn't here to pick up messages but to send them.

He glanced round, keenly aware that anyone out in the foyer could look in through the glass hatchway where visitors signed in and see him. But there was no one. Rich lifted the phone and reached out to dial.

Silence. There was no dialling tone. He frowned and tried putting the phone back then lifting it again. But there was still nothing. Maybe you needed to press 9 for an outside line or something. That didn't
do anything either – none of the numbers did. And Rich went cold as he remembered the bearded gunman saying they'd cut off the phones. He wasn't kidding. Rich could see now that the flashing light on the phone was labelled ‘Line'. It was telling him there was no connection.

With Mr Argent's help, Jade dragged the unconscious gunman to a small store cupboard where the caretaker kept cleaning equipment. They bundled him inside, then went back for his gun.

“I suppose you know how to use that?” Mr Argent asked as Jade picked it up.

“Well, point it and pull the trigger, I guess. But not really. You?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“Not much use to us then, is it? We'll find somewhere to dump it. And we need somewhere to hide while we work out what to do.”

“The staffroom is along here,” Mr Argent pointed out.

“Good idea. It'll be comfy. And there are several doors in and out so we won't be trapped. I hope.”

The staffroom was furnished with a sofa and several easy chairs – all of which had seen better days.
Jade stuffed the machine pistol under the sofa. The room was almost completely dark, but Jade didn't want to risk putting on the lights.

“Now what?” Mr Argent asked. He perched nervously on one of the small armchairs, rubbing his hands together.

“Good question. It would help if we knew what these people were after.”

“Ah.” Mr Argent looked away guiltily. When he looked back at Jade he seemed even more pale and nervous. “I'm afraid,” he said, “that they want
me
.”

Jade stared at him. “You? Why would they want you? I mean, I assumed it was something to do with Dad and maybe…” She fell silent as her brain clicked up a gear. There were lots of thoughts and ideas whizzing round in her head, but now they seemed to be dropping into place. “Why did you say you supposed I knew how to use that gun?”

Mr Argent shrugged. “I just thought you might. Knowing that your father…”

“Yes, my father.” Jade walked over to him and looked down at the little man, her hands on her hips as their eyes met. “Dad knew you, didn't he. He told me you're from Switzerland – how did he know that? And
you knew him and what he does. You're the Banker.”

His eyes widened behind the thick lenses of his spectacles. “You know?”

“I do now.” Jade rubbed her forehead. She felt as if her brain was going to overload. “But what are you doing here? No, no, no,” she went on before he could answer. “You're in hiding, aren't you? Dad thought you'd be safe here, just like we're safe here.”

“Don't blame your father,” the Banker said quietly. “He knew nothing about it until last night. He got me away from Mont Passat – he saved my life, you know.”

“Yeah, well, remember that when you mark my next maths test.”

“I didn't think I'd have to call on his help again so soon.” The Banker stood up frowning. He was patting his pockets.

“What are you looking for?” Jade asked.

“My phone.”

“Won't work,” Jade told him. “The guy in charge said they'd jammed all the signals.”

“
My
phone will work,” the Banker said. “It's linked to a special satellite. And it has a panic feature. All I need to do is press the right sequence and ask for help.”

“So where's…” Jade remembered the call the Banker
had taken earlier, up in the maths corridor. “You put it on your desk. In your classroom. After that call. I bet it's still there.”

The Banker seemed to shrink in the chair. “After Eleri called. That must be how they found me – they were watching her.” In the near darkness, his face had taken on a haunted expression. “If only I knew where she was.”

“Eleri? Is she… a friend?”

“A colleague. We work together. She has been watching out for me, in case Ardman and his people tried to double-cross me. She was watching out for me in Mont Passat when I took the death run.”

“This Eleri,” said Jade slowly, with a sudden, horrible realisation, “is she tall and slim? Figure to die for and long sort of auburn hair?”

The Banker nodded. “You have seen her? You know where she is?”

Jade wasn't sure what to say, how to tell him. She knelt down in front of his chair and took hold of his hands, surprised at how cold they felt. “She's in the hall. But…”

“But what?”

“I think she's been shot.”

The Banker snatched his hands away and turned,
looking into the dim recesses of the room. Jade could hear him struggling to control his breathing. A single sob escaped and he wiped his eyes.

“I'm sorry,” Jade said. “I guess she's a friend as well as a colleague, right?”

His voice was so quiet Jade could barely hear him. “Eleri is my daughter,” he said. “I must go to her.” The Banker stood up and started for the door.

Jade quickly grabbed him. “That'll do no good. You'll never get there.”

“I have to try!”

They both froze at the sound of footsteps from outside.

On the other side of the room, the door burst open. Standing silhouetted against the harsh light from the corridor was a man holding a machine pistol.

Jade froze. Nothing moved – the Banker was still and the gunman in the doorway made no move either. It took Jade a moment to realise that coming from the brightly-lit corridor he could see nothing in the darkened room.

But then the man stepped inside, feeling for the light switch.

Jade grabbed Mr Argent's hands and pulled gently, leading him quickly behind the desk.

The lights snapped on. Jade held her breath, finger to her mouth to warn Mr Argent – or whatever his name really was – to be quiet. Like he needed telling. The man was shaking with fear.

Footsteps – heavy boots on the bare floorboards. The footsteps hesitated, moved into the room.
Rich had hidden in the shadows under the main stairs up to the maths corridor. The gunmen were moving through the school in an orderly manner, checking each room in turn. They were swift and efficient and methodical. But that meant Rich was able to predict exactly where they were headed and keep out of their way.

Eventually, unless he could hide and let them past without finding him, Rich would be caught – ending up in the last room they got to. Through the window of the school office he had seen the men outside, walking slowly round, watching for anyone who tried to get out. He'd been lucky not to be spotted on his escape from the hall.

There was one room that might be safe, he realised. If they were anything like as efficient and clued-up as they seemed, they'd have searched there already. If not, then Rich was walking right into danger.

But what choice did he have? He listened carefully for any sound, and hoping that the silence meant there was no one within sight, he stepped out from under the stairs.

The footsteps moved away again, the lights clicked off and the door slammed shut. Jade and the Banker were safe, at least for the moment.

“I doubt we can get out safely,” Jade whispered. “But if we head back to reception we can get up to the maths corridor and back to your classroom.”

“And get my phone.”

“That's right. How's it work?”

“You need to dial star fifty-five star. That should put you straight through. Just say you need help. They can pinpoint the phone and send someone.”

There were still splashes of blood on the floor of the corridor, and Jade wondered if any of the other gunmen had noticed. Was the man she'd tripped up still unconscious? She glanced at the storeroom, half expecting the door to burst open to eject a furious, blood-stained killer. But it remained closed.

“He'll be out for hours,” the Banker said quietly, seeing where Jade had been looking.

They crept up the stairs and emerged into the maths corridor close to the little storeroom that led out to the gallery above the hall.

“So far, so good,” Jade murmured. It looked like they were going to get the phone, no problem. And as soon as Ardman sent help…

Jade stepped out from the stairs, but the Banker grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back. There was
someone in the corridor. A figure walking slowly and purposefully towards them.

“He saw me!” Jade hissed.

“Back down the stairs then.”

Jade couldn't resist a quick glance back down the corridor to see how close the gunman was. Probably running full tilt.

But he wasn't. The figure was still walking at the same pace. He waved. Now he was closer and in the light, Jade could see that it was Rich.

“Surprised to see me?” he asked as he reached them.

He looked rather surprised himself as Jade grabbed him and hugged him tight.

“Take that as a yes, then,” he said, pulling away at last. “Good to see you too, Jade.”

She told him quickly who Mr Argent really was and about the phone.

“Only problem,” Rich said, “is there's one of those guys in the classroom.”

“In my classroom?” the Banker said. “A gunman in my classroom?” He sounded more upset about that than he had been about anything else.

“But… How do they know it's his classroom?” Jade wondered.

“Says so on the door,” Rich told her. “Mr D. J. Argent.”

“They know what I look like, but how do they know that's my new name?” the Banker asked.

“Because they found your photo on the staff mugshot board,” Rich explained. “Like, Cleeveholme's most wanted.”

“They must have guessed you might go back there. Or they're hoping so,” Jade said. “What do we do now?”

“We need to get old Beardy to call the gunman away.”

“He's not likely to organise a tea break,” Jade pointed out.

“True.” Rich grinned. “But if he suddenly needs more men for the search…”

Jade was grinning too. “You've got an idea, haven't you?”

“Might have. I reckon they must be getting pretty desperate to find you by now,” he said to the Banker. “Let's add to their problems.”

They hurried into the storeroom and through to the gallery at the back of the stage. Looking down into the hall, they could see the gunman left on guard and the group of children – now including Mike and Rupam – sitting tired and scared on the edge of the stage with
Miss Whitfield. The Banker looked down sadly at the body of his daughter, still lying on the hall floor.

“I don't think she's badly hurt,” Rich reassured him. “They said the wound wasn't too bad. But she's out for the count and she needs treatment.” He beckoned them back into the relative safety of the storeroom and explained his plan.

“Only trouble is,” he finished, turning to the Banker, “if they get you, they get all the magic account numbers and the money.”

“Actually, they don't.”

“What do you mean?” asked Jade.

“I don't have the numbers and passcodes. Well, not in their entirety. It's a safety measure, and it's why Mr Ardman is so frustrated with me. I only know half of each piece of information. Ardman needs the other half and that will only arrive when I'm sure I am safe.”

“So these people, the Tiger's gunmen if that's who they are, will only get half the information from you if you're caught,” Rich said. “Who knows the other half?”

Jade and Rich looked at each other, realising the answer at the same time.

The Banker nodded. “We each know half. We work together, out of necessity. Though there is one failsafe,
one place where we have stored the entire numbers and codes.” He smiled. “Don't worry, it's very safe.”

There was a noise from below – the hall door opening and then the sound of the large Scotsman's voice. They all turned to listen, but all Jade could make out was the distinctive burr of the man's accent.

“Getting any of this?” she mouthed at Rich.

He shook his head.

“Hang on,” Jade whispered. She tiptoed back through to the gallery and lay down on the floor, pressing her ear to the bare boards of the balcony. The Scotsman was right underneath, talking quietly to the gunman on guard.

“You said it would be easy. Quick in and out,” the gunman was saying. He sounded like he might be from Scandinavia.

“I know what I said.” There was anger in the leader's voice. “But I was wrong. We can discuss it later, if you want.”

“No,” said the gunman hurriedly.

“Wise choice. But we need to get a move on. Won't be long before parents are worried and calling the real police, never mind Hans and Danny at the main gates.”

“Some of the children have been asking for the toilet.”

“Oh God help us. Right, that does it. I've got Masro looking for a public address system. But we'll walk through shouting if we have to. Flush him out that way.”

“Shouting what?”

“That if the Banker doesn't give himself up, we start shooting our hostages.”

Jade heard the gasp of astonishment from the guard. “But, they are children.”

“Then we start with the woman.”

“You can't kill children.”

There was a slight pause. Jade thought maybe the Scotsman was considering this. But maybe he was just glaring at his subordinate. “Watch me,” he said.

Rich was better at throwing than Jade. He'd suggested a paper dart. She told him to get real – it could end up anywhere. So instead, he wrote on a sheet torn from a pad in the storeroom, then screwed it into a tight ball.

“I just hope Gemma realises what I'm up to,” he said.

Jade shrugged. “She's
your
girlfriend.”

“No, she's not!”

‘Oh come on – the way you hang out together. All the time.”

“Oh, like you and Rod Baker, I suppose.”

Jade smiled. “Yeah, right. Hit a nerve, did I?”

“You couldn't hit an elephant.”

“I'll tell Gemma you called her an elephant,” Jade warned him.

Rich made his way tentatively to the front of the gallery. The guard was underneath so couldn't see him. But the people on the edge of the stage could. Gemma was looking right at him. Miss Whitfield was glaring – like she was telling him off for sneaking away and skiving.

He held up the ball of paper and mimed throwing it to Gemma. Then he pointed down at the floor – towards the guard and opened his hands in a theatrical gesture of bewilderment. Could he throw the paper – was the guard watching?

Gemma was looking from Rich to the guard and back again. She gave no sign that it was safe, so he guessed it wasn't. He'd just have to wait – but for how long?

Miss Whitfield got down from the edge of the stage and walked briskly across towards the guard. For one awful moment, Rich thought she was going to tell him that there was a boy on the gallery who ought to be down in the hall with them and what was he going to do about it?

“What are you doing?” the guard demanded. “Back on the stage with the children, now!”

“Not until you tell me how much longer we are to be kept here,” Miss Whitfield replied, in her telling-off voice. All trace of nerves seemed to be gone. “Some of the children need the toilet and this young lady needs proper medical attention. I've done what I can, but she's lost a lot of blood. Look.”

The guard appeared from under the gallery as Miss Whitfield led him to where the woman – Eleri – was still lying on the floor. There was a blazer folded up under her head now. If it were not for the bullet holes in her coat and the blood, she could almost be peacefully sleeping.

As soon as the guard was looking at the wounded woman and away from the stage, Gemma's hands came up, ready for the catch. Rich threw the ball of paper. Gemma grabbed at it. It bounced out of her hands and fell to the floor, out of reach.

Gemma glared at him like it was his fault. Then, in a single swift motion, she was off the stage, scooping up the ball of paper and pulling herself back up.

When the guard straightened up and turned to check on his prisoners, he could see nothing amiss.
Rich just hoped Gemma would get a chance to read his message and would understand what he wanted her – and the others – to do when the time came.

If not, they might all end up dead.