Alex followed Ben back outside. He stood on the porch steps and scanned the horizon thoughtfully, his eyes narrowed against the sun. ‘That was Jones. And he’ll be back.’
‘He’s going to bring an army with him,’ Alex said. ‘A few hours, tops. We should get out of here.’
‘See if you can get that starter motor transplanted.’
‘Where are you going?’
But Ben was already heading back inside. ‘Riley, I need to know if you have some kind of rifle in the place.’
The old man stared at him for a second. There was a gleam in his eye, a fire that looked like it was returning after lying dormant a long time. He grunted and beckoned for Ben to follow. He hobbled down a passage and pushed open a door leading down some wooden steps to a crumbling basement. On a home-made rack on the wall was a rifle. It was slender and compact, walnut and blued steel. The old man lifted it down and handed it to Ben without a word.
Ben examined it. It was.22 calibre underlever Marlin. Welcome, but more of a rabbit or squirrel gun than anything else.
Riley saw Ben’s face and smiled. ‘I know what you’re thinking, son. It’s heavy iron you want.’
Ben said nothing.
‘Let me show you something.’ The old man hobbled across the basement, into the shadows where packing cases and broken furniture were piled up and thick with dust and spiders’ webs. He started clearing things out of the way, panting with the effort. He stooped down low and dragged something heavy across the floor. Ben looked down. It was an old trunk.
‘I haven’t opened this since I came home from Korea,’ Riley said. ‘Guess part of me never wanted to see it again. But if there’s any truth in fate, maybe now I know why I hauled the damn thing back halfway round the world.’ He blew dust off the lid, and opened it.
Inside the trunk was a load of old packing material. Riley scooped it out and dumped it on the floor. Underneath was a layer of sacking cloth. It was smeared with grease and smelled strongly of old gun oil. Riley gripped the edge and peeled it back. ‘Here it is,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t hardly lift it no more. But I was pretty useful with it, back in the day.’ He stepped away to let Ben see.
Ben blinked. ‘I don’t believe it. You’ve got a BAR.’
Browning Automatic Rifle. It was a model he’d only seen once before, a hefty American light machine gun that had been used from the First World War and been decommissioned during the sixties. The kind of weapon that belonged in a military museum – but this one looked brand new. Grey gunmetal and oiled wood and iron battle sights, the way things used to be before the era of rubber and polymer, red dot optics and lasers.
Ben reached inside the crate and lifted it out. It was heavy and oily. He checked it over. The rifle was in perfect condition, the bore clean and the action slick. Even the canvas sling was as new. The magazine was long and curved, and there were five more like it in the bottom of the trunk.
Riley smiled. ‘Special high-capacity anti-aircraft version. We used to shoot down planes with these babies.’ He waded deeper into the basement and knocked some more junk out of the way. Reached down with a grunt and dragged a heavy metal ammo case into the middle of the floor. It was olive green, rusty around the edges with faded yellow lettering on the side.
Riley flipped the steel catches and the lid creaked open. Old brass gleamed dully from inside. Neatly stacked bottleneck cartridges, more than a thousand of them. They were.308 military issue, well preserved, lightly greased. Over half a century old, primers still gleaming. ‘All you need to start a goddamn war, son.’
‘This is where it’s going to happen,’ Ben said. He unclipped the magazine and started pressing rounds into it.
The old man watched him, and nodded to himself. ‘You got the look of a soldier. Tell me I’m right.’
Ben nodded. ‘Was, once.’
‘Unit?’
‘British Army. Special Air Service.’
‘I heard about you people. Black ops. Iranian Embassy siege in London, right?’
‘Ten years before my time,’ Ben said. ‘I served in the Gulf. Afghanistan. Africa. Mostly covert ops. Things you don’t want to know about, and neither do I.’
Riley snorted. ‘Classified shit.’
‘Doing the dirty for the men in suits to feather their nests. Never again.’
‘Same men in suits that have business with us today.’
‘Pretty much the same species,’ Ben said. ‘But it’s me they have business with. This isn’t your war, Riley. I’d appreciate it if you stayed out of the way.’
Riley spat. ‘We’ll see about that, boy. I’ve been at war with the damn government for fifty years. And you saved my ass. Least I can do is return the favour.’
‘These are bad people.’
‘I ain’t exactly an angel myself, sonny. I’m old, but I can still kick ass when I have to.’
Ben nodded his gratitude. ‘There are some other things I’m going to need,’ he said.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Ben walked back to the farm buildings. Alex was just stepping back from the newer of the two old trucks, wiping rusty grease off her hands with a rag. There was a smudge of oil on her cheek. She looked anxious, but smiled through it when she saw him approaching.
‘You did it?’
She walked round to the driver’s door, opened it with a creak and climbed up inside the cab. ‘Moment of truth.’
The truck fired up with a roar and a cloud of blue smoke. Her face broke into a wide triumphant grin as she gunned the engine. She hopped out of the cab and ran over to him, beaming, and hugged him. ‘Now let’s get out of here,’ she said.
He said nothing.
‘What?’
‘It’s not that simple, Alex.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘You go. Head nine miles west across the ridge and get to the Herman place. It’s time to call in your people. They’ll take care of Zoe.’
There was alarm in her eyes. She shook her head adamantly. ‘We all go. There’s still time.’
He put his hand on her shoulder, rubbed the warm skin of her neck with his thumb. ‘We’d never make it, out in the open. They’d soon overtake us. And if we leave Riley and Ira here alone, they’ll be killed. I can’t have that on my conscience. Someone has to stop these people. You go. Let me stay here and meet them.’
‘You stay, I stay.’
He shook his head again. ‘I want you somewhere safe,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t bear…’ His voice trailed off.
‘I couldn’t bear if anything happened to you either,’ she whispered.
‘Trust me. Nothing will happen.’
‘You don’t know what you’ll be up against.’
‘I have a pretty good idea,’ he said.
She sighed. There was a catch in her breath. She stroked his hand. A tear hung on her eyelash, and he smiled and wiped it away. She laughed through the tears. ‘This is crazy,’ she sniffed. ‘I never thought anything like this could happen to me.’ She gazed into his eyes for a second, then held him tight. He could feel the urgency, the yearning, in the way her arms were wrapped around him.
For a brief instant he lost himself, feeling her against him, the scent of her hair. He closed his eyes. Part of him wished so desperately that he could freeze that moment. That this could be simple, and that his options were open.
But they weren’t, and it was anything but simple. It never could be.
