While Basic and I went in the front, shouting instructions to Tempest and Amanda as if they were with us, Tempest was going in through the other door. He took bolt croppers and an oxyacetylene torch just in case, but the key on the big ring he took from the Sandman’s house in New Ash Green opened the lock.
The police had it in their possession but gave it back to Tempest when they released him. Whoever was inside expected us to come from one direction, and we were bang on that coming at them from both ends would throw them completely.
With a wall of fire before us, we drove them back far enough to get inside. We didn’t need to look for flammable material because the t-shirts provided it. They worked better than I could have predicted but we had to pretend to die before the smoke caused the dress-wearing nutbags to flee.
It was a difficult balance: they had to be blinded to our movements, but not so much they would know we were acting. Divided to fight on two fronts, each thought the other was winning. The reports of our deaths fuelled their confidence and as smoke filled the bunker and they needed to escape it, they came forward. Spread thin, coughing and choking from the smoke, we picked them off like apples on a tree.
If you are wondering why we weren’t worried about setting fire to the whole place or of accidentally killing Jane and the others, the answer is Tempest guessed.
On the way to the hardware store, he told us about the map he’d seen at Harry Hengist’s house. Cobham Woods and the old bunker was marked on it, but so too was a second building. There was a small annotation on the map, made in pencil. Tempest could not recall what it said but believed that was where the Sandman would be.
Not in the bunker.
His guess was based entirely on a single premise: the Sandman wanted us to go to the bunker and expected us to die there. If that was where he wanted us, it would not be where he was. He would have to be close by though and the only structure for more than a mile in any direction was this odd little house in the middle of nowhere.
Genuinely, I found it a little annoying that he was right.
Each of the dickhead monks got cable tied around their wrists and ankles with their hands behind their backs. A third cable tie connected the first two together – they were going nowhere. The joy of coming in from both sides was that we could be certain none of them had been able to get out and a trap intended for us worked against them.
The Sandman might be top drawer material when it came to being a psycho serial killer, but he was rubbish at military strategy.
Once sure we had them all, Tempest jogged back to his end to open the door and the through draft swept the smoke out. It had been slick and swift but the part of the job we had done wasn’t the part we needed to do, it just teed us up nicely for it.
Knowing I only had a few seconds before we needed to get moving, I checked the hogtied dickhead monks looking for one man in particular.
Grabbing one by the hair to turn his face my way, I asked, ‘Where’s Smiler?’
He didn’t respond and I realised he was unconscious.
I moved to the next one, ‘Where’s … ah, nuts.’ He was out cold too. ‘Are any of you idiots still conscious?’
I got no answer, but someone coughed.
‘A-ha! Where are you?’ Quiet ruled. For a second anyway. Then he couldn’t hold the cough inside any longer and that showed me where he was. ‘Where’s Smiler?’ I demanded, getting in his face.
He was trying hard to squirm away but tied up as he was, there was no way to escape me.
‘Who?’ he blurted, still wriggling to get free.
‘Calm down. I won’t hurt you if you just answer my question. I’m Big Ben, what’s your name?’ I asked, giving the man a reassuring smile.
I got a mad look back as he tried to reflect my smile. ‘Carl. I’m Carl. I’m really new here. I’m not really with these guys. I just …’
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah. I don’t like Carl as a name. I think I’ll call you Susan. So come on, Susan. Where’s Smiler? You know. He’s got a gob full of broken teeth.’ It was a good enough description so far as I was concerned.
Stuttering, the man said, ‘That’s Marco. He’s one of the master’s favourites. He is with him.’
Tempest loomed over me. ‘At the house?’ he asked the dickhead monk.
I prodded him. ‘Answer please, Susan.’
The man nodded vigorously. ‘That’s right. They are all at the house getting ready for the ceremony. Marco is being given the girl.’
‘Karen?’ Tempest tried to clarify.
This time Susan shook his head. ‘The blonde one.’
I stood up. It was time to go. There was rescuing to do. Tempest was already leaving, indicating to Amanda and Basic to go because we were coming.
I took a step, then stopped myself. ‘Whoops. Almost forgot.’
I know it’s wrong to hit a man when he’s down, but I don’t think that rule really applies to evil cult members who murder people for fun.
Susan went night night for a while.
Tempest. Ambush My Ambush. Saturday, December 24th 1638hrs
Four of us had taken out five times that number in less than two minutes. If we lived through this, I was going to record it as a massive victory and mark it on my calendar as a
