Sharp Shot - Justin Richards

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of the scientists had been carrying it—he must have run into Darrow soon after.

      “Blimey, it’s heavy,” McCain commented, lifting it up to get a better look. “What d’you want this for?”

      “It just took my fancy.” Darrow lifted the statue carefully out of McCain’s hands and pushed it back into his rucksack. “No big deal.”

      “Reckon it’s valuable?” Halford asked.

      “I’ll let you know.”

      Chance was looking grim. “You shouldn’t have taken it,” he said. “We didn’t come here to steal artefacts, whether they’re valuable or not.”

      “Oh come on, John,” said Darrow, suddenly angry. “We were going to blow it up. I found it in the admin block when I was planting the explosives. It just seemed a shame to destroy it. So where’s the harm? I mean, they’re not going to come and ask for it back, are they?”

      “Actually,” said Halford, “I think they might.” He pointed across the mass of broken buildings and collapsed walls.

      Two small black shapes were streaking rapidly towards them across the sky. As they watched, one of the black shapes flashed, as if it had caught the sun.

      “Incoming!” yelled McCain.

      Moments later, a building just thirty metres away exploded in a fireball. Heavy machine gun fire strafed across the sandy ground.

      The four men hurled themselves into the cover of the wall. There was another explosion, even closer. A wall exploded under the impact of the rocket, stone and debris flying through the air. Darrow gave a cry as a lump of rock struck him across the side of the head, hurling him sideways.

      Then as suddenly as it had started, the attack stopped. The two aircraft sped onwards, into the distance.

      “Soon as they turn, they’ll be back,” said Halford.

      Chance was beside the prone body of Darrow. “Out cold. He’s losing blood, and I think his collar bone’s broken. We have to get him to the Jeep.”

      “That could be a problem,” said McCain, kneeling beside them. He pointed across to the burning remains of the building that had taken the first rocket hit. “That’s the Jeep. Maybe they saw its heat signature.”

      “Then we have to walk. We’ll take it in turns to carry Mark. We move out as soon as it’s safe.”

      “And when will that be?”

      “The planes aren’t turning,” Halford reported, joining them. “I reckon the Foxbat wasn’t sure he’d seen anything, and they were just making sure, maybe trying to flush us out if we were here. They fired at anything showing up on the infra red and just got lucky.”“And we didn’t,” said Chance. “They might send in ground forces to check. Let’s make sure there’s nothing left of the Jeep, and we bury anything that we don’t take with us. We need to travel light. With luck we can call in an extraction, but if not then it’s still another hundred and fifty kilometres to the border. So the only thing we’re taking with us apart from water and weapons and the first aid kit is Mark, got it?”

      “What about this?” McCain asked, kicking Darrow’s heavy rucksack containing his souvenir statue.

      “You check on the Jeep,” Chance told him. “Dex, you do what you can to help Mark. See if you can stop the bleeding.” He picked up the rucksack—it really was very heavy, and there was no way they could take it with them and carry Darrow. Speed was vital now. “I’ll bury this with the rest of the gear,” he said.

       1

       The present day. Gloucestershire, England.

      Jade Chance was out jogging. The route she took—through the village and back across the hills—was almost exactly six and a half kilometres. She tried to run every day after school, and occasionally she persuaded her brother Rich to go with her.

      But not this afternoon.

      When he was at home, Dad quite often joined her. Jade had expected him to be slow and out of condition. He ate the most appalling rubbish, he smoked—though less than he used to—and as far as Jade could tell he drank only black coffee, beer and champagne. Sometimes together.

      It was November, so it was already dark when Jade got back. She’d left Rich doing his homework, and he was still at it when she returned.

      “Dad phoned,” said Rich, without looking up. He was sitting at the dining table in the main living room of the small cottage the three of them shared on the outskirts of the small Cotswold village.

      “Did he say where he is or what he’s doing?” Jade asked, going straight through to the kitchen.

      “Nope.”

      “Did he say when he’ll be back?” Jade called as she opened the fridge.

      “Nope.”

      “Did he say where he’s put the tin opener?”

      “Nope,” Rich called back. “But I did ask,” he added after a moment.

      “Liar.” Jade started to unload the beer and champagne from the fridge. “So why did he bother to call?”

      “Don’t know. That was something I didn’t ask.” Rich was standing in the doorway, watching Jade empty the fridge. “I hope you’re not going to empty all that down the sink again,” he said.

      “No. But I don’t see why the fridge has to be full of Dad’s booze. One bottle of champagne and two bottles of beer, that’s what he’s allowed now. If you’ve finished your homework, you can go online and order some real food and drink.”

      “You mean healthy stuff.” Rich was smiling. “You mean lettuce and carrots and things that only rabbits eat. You mean fruit juice and bottled water.”

      “Among other things.” Jade stood up and surveyed the collection of bottles on the worktop. “That should do it. If we’re left on our own to look after ourselves, we might as well eat healthily and sensibly while we can. He could be gone for weeks. Are you sure he didn’t say when he’ll be back?”

      Rich shrugged. “He’s working for Ardman. He could be anywhere in the world for days or weeks or even months, I guess.”

      “All the more reason to make the most of it.”

      “Yeah,” Rich agreed. “I did an order yesterday, anyway. They’re supposed to deliver it this evening. Don’t worry, I put us down for some health food. Salad and fruit and vegetables. Oh, and I ordered some Coke and burgers too. And we can have pizza tonight.” He grinned at Jade’s horrified expression. “You can put extra pineapple on yours. Then it’ll count as fruit.”

      Before Jade could protest, her phone beeped. It was warning her it was almost out of power, so she went through to her bedroom to plug it into the charger. By the time she returned, Rich was back at his homework.

      There was something else Jade was determined to do while Dad was away. That was to unpack at least some of the crates and boxes that had been standing unopened in the spare room since they’d arrived several months earlier.

      Dad was used to living out of suitcases and boxes, but since the death of the twins’ mother, Jade hadn’t really felt anywhere was home. If she unpacked Dad’s stuff, if they filled the cottage with things that belonged to them as a family rather than the people they were renting the cottage from, then maybe this would become home.

      It frustrated Jade that Rich didn’t seem to have the same problem. Maybe he was more like their dad. He seemed happy just to unpack things as and when—and if—he needed them. If she left it to the men, Jade knew, they’d never be moved in.

      Another

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