line where it tightened in place. He released the line to check that it dangled directly above the glass, which it did nicely, then turned the line several times around the thickest part of the glass and tied it off with a knot.
‘What’s he doing?’ Smudge asked.
‘Shut up, Smudge,’ Smiv said. ‘He’s not doing anything you said he couldn’t.’
‘Whose side are you on, anyway?’ Smudge asked him.
‘I still don’t think he can do it but I’d like to see him try.’
Smudge frowned.
Josh’s head rose up between the men beside Stratton. ‘What you doing, Stratton?’
‘I’m going to blow some fat.’
‘Wow,’ Josh replied, eyes wide.
‘Would you like to light the fuse?’
Josh’s eyes lit up even more. No other reply was necessary.
The final touch was the long piece of fuse, which Stratton wrapped one end of around the nylon line just above the champagne glass. He placed the other end beside the end of the smaller fuse-line attached to the detonator.
Several discussions immediately broke out among the men – descriptions of what was meant to happen and estimates of varying degrees of success. The general consensus seemed to be that it was an interesting idea but a doomed one.
‘You want to get everyone inside?’ Stratton asked Jack.
A moment later the children and wives were being herded into the house. A man with a well-developed gut and a decidedly unspecial-forces-like bearing who had been talking to several of the wives and not paying attention to the goings-on in the corner of the garden joined the men heading into the house. ‘What’s happening?’ he asked.
‘A party trick,’ Jack said.
‘Oh, great. What is it?’
‘The explosive kind,’ Bracken explained.
‘Explosive. Inside the house?’ The man chuckled, not believing them.
‘No. Outside. That’s why we’re going inside,’ Bracken said.
The man stopped in the doorway, looking as if he’d misheard. ‘Not real explosives, surely?’
‘Yeah. As in boom boom,’ Smiv said.
‘Real explosives?’ the man asked again.
‘Which is why we’re going inside,’ Bracken repeated patiently.
The man looked across the garden to the table where Stratton was crouched with Josh, talking about something. ‘Are you
‘If anyone complains we’ll say it was just a big banger,’ Bracken said.
‘Big
‘So who’s gonna know?’ Bracken asked.
‘
‘May I remind you that I’m a police officer.’ He was from the Dorset Police Firearms Unit which the SBS occasionally instructed.
‘Relax, Bob. It’s all under control,’ Jack assured him.
‘Relax? If anything goes wrong it’ll be me who gets it in the neck.’
‘Bob,’ Smiv said, putting a large hand on the man’s shoulder and squeezing it a little. ‘If you don’t shut up I’m going to shoot you in the leg tomorrow when we’re on the range. Now get in the poxy house and do as you’re told.’
Bob looked at the hardened faces staring at him, all belonging to men a head taller than him. ‘I’m going to deny all knowledge,’ he said as he went into the house.
‘Is everyone inside?’ Jack asked. ‘Shut the balcony door, please,’ he shouted and someone complied. ‘Stratton? All yours.’
‘Don’t you break any of my windows, Stratton,’ Sally called out from the patio doors.
Jack closed the doors on her, cleared various items off a garden table and tipped it on its side.
Stratton took a small battery-ignited gas lighter from the briefcase and pushed the button on the side a couple of times, initiating it for Josh to see how it worked. ‘You have a go,’ he said to Josh who took the lighter and pushed the button. The small portal instantly glowed red and blue without a visible flickering tongue of fire: it looked more like the rear of a miniature jet engine.
‘That’s perfect. Now, you remember the last time we lit a fuse?’
‘Yes.’ Josh nodded.
‘This is just the same. When you light the ends of the fuses and they start to crackle we’ll walk slowly back to the table where your dad is. Okay?’
Josh nodded again. ‘What do we count up to?’ he asked.
‘Twelve inches is sixty seconds. You remember how we count?’
‘Thousand and one, thousand and two, thousand and three,’ Josh said, nodding his head at each number.
‘Perfect … You ready?’
Josh held up the lighter.
‘Okay. Light it.’
Josh ignited the lighter and carefully aimed the jet at the ends of both the short and the long fuses lying beside each other. They immediately crackled to life and began to give off a thin wisp of smoke.
Josh began to count. ‘Thousand and one, thousand and two, thousand and three, thousand and four …’
Stratton took the lighter from him, pocketed it, closed the briefcase, stood up and took Josh’s hand. Josh looked up at him, still counting, and Stratton winked, emphasising how calm and cool they should be. As Josh got to a thousand and ten, they strode off together to where Jack was waiting for them behind the table.
‘Thousand and twenty-one,’ Josh counted as he got down beside his dad. He glanced over at the patio doors where his friends were pressed against the glass, watching him.
‘Is my money safe?’ Jack asked Stratton while his son continued counting.
‘I’m relying more on luck than judgement but I’d say we’re in good shape.’
As Josh got to one thousand and fifty-seven, there was a sharp crack, hardly louder than a normal firework banger, and a moment later the three of them stood up to see what had happened.
The patio doors opened and Smudge led the others out as a small cloud of smoke dissipated. They walked over and stood around the table. The champagne bottle was in precisely the same position but its top was missing. Swinging like a pendulum above it on the nylon line was the champagne flute containing the flower. The longer fuse wire was still burning up towards it.
Everyone gathered around, watching the glass swing less and less as the thin wisp of smoke from the fuse drew closer to it. Smudge was at the other side of the table, facing Stratton, the swinging glass between them. He looked unsure. But the odds on the fuse burning through the nylon at the precise moment were surely in his favour.
The seconds ticked away and as the fuse got shorter no one said a word. Even Bob the police officer stared in anticipation.
The fuse reached the nylon and burnt through it. The glass fell, the bottom of the stem hitting the edge of the bottle and breaking off. But the rest of it dropped inside the bottle.
Jack leaned over the bottle, reached inside it, and lifted the glass out. Apart from its stem it was intact, with the flower inside. ‘I’d say that was a winner.’
There was instant applause from everyone and Josh hugged Stratton’s legs.
‘Wait a minute,’ Smudge said. ‘The bottom of the glass is broken.’
‘Shut up, Smudge,’ Bracken said. ‘He did exactly what you asked him to. Cough up.’
‘But technically—’ Smudge whined on.
‘Just give ’em the money and stop your whingeing,’ Smiv said as he took out his wallet and duly counted out a hundred pounds into Jack’s hand. Smudge reluct antly took out his wallet and handed his payment to Jack who
