forcing her back, smashing her head against the ground. He pinned her down and straddled her chest.
‘ Bitch. Don’t ever think I’ll let you get away with kneeing me in the balls.’
He struck her open-handed across the cheek as hard as he could, whipping her face sideways.
Then, miraculously, his weight was lifted from her chest and he seemed to be flying through the air in a flurry of limbs.
Quickly Danny got to her knees, spun round, saw it was Henry Christie who had pulled Sands off, but that now Sands had recovered, gained the upper hand and was laying into Henry, pummelling him with a series of blows. Henry defended himself like a boxer, hands protecting his head, forearms his chest: He rolled with the onslaught, saw a minute gap and launched a rock-hard fist onto the point of Sands’s chin. His head jerked right back on impact.
The blow knocked him stone cold. His legs crumpled underneath him like a drunken man. He went down with a groan and a thud.
‘ Damn!’ yelled Henry, rubbing the knuckles of his fist, doing a little jig. It felt as though the cap of the knuckle had been dislodged. ‘Yow! That effin’ hurts.’
Danny got to her feet. Her lower spine throbbed painfully. Her face was smarting and she could feel a lump growing like a tumour on the back of her head. She stared speechless at her stunned ex-lover who was squirming around on the floor, then looked at Henry.
‘ You okay?’ he asked.
She nodded dumbly, muttered a thanks of sorts.
‘ No probs. Look, you go home. I’ll deal with Jack. If you need to talk, we’ll talk — later.’
‘ Yeah… yep,’ she said unsurely, still dazed. She rolled back into her car and started the engine.
Henry took hold of Sands’s lapels and heaved him out of the path of her rear wheels.
Seconds later she was gone, leaving Henry with a fast-recovering Detective Inspector Sands who had a good bit of explaining to do.
Chapter Four
Steve Kruger fidgeted, trying to make the radio harness a little more comfortable beneath his armpit. Though allegedly ‘body moulded’ and well hidden by his jacket, it was tight and unwieldy, as though he were carrying a set of books. It was a psychological problem Kruger had always had on surveillance, right back to his undercover cop days; he always thought that the equipment would be completely obvious to the public and constantly expected to be approached and exposed.
He had begun to sweat already.
Myrna came into the office wearing a smart, stylish suit in beige with a very short skirt displaying her excellent legs. She had been in the ladies’ restroom fitting her radio harness underneath her blouse, next to her skin. Kruger peered at her chest — for professional reasons, obviously and was relieved to find he could not detect any bulges there other than legitimate ones.
She executed a pirouette for him.
‘ Can’t see a thing,’ he admitted.
He slid the miniature encrypted radio into the pouch, then threaded the fine wire of the press-to-talk button down his sleeve and into the palm of his left hand. He secured it with flesh-coloured Band Aid, adjusting it minutely so he could grip it and comfortably press the button with his thumb. A wire-free earpiece was already implanted in his ear and a microphone — doubling as a tie pin — was pinned to his tie. In order to transmit he had to talk down to his chest without falling into the trap of mumbling his words.
He stood to attention and tugged down the hem of his jacket. He cocked his head at Myrna.
‘ Obviously I can see the bulge when you do that,’ she said witheringly.
Kruger let go. The jacket bounced back to its normal shape.
‘ That’s better.’
He picked up the pistol from his desk top — a Sig Sauer P230 in. 765 Browning calibre, the standard blue- black version with an eight-round magazine capacity. It was the gun all his operatives were issued with whenever necessary, and had been chosen by Kruger following his Army and police experience. A lightweight weapon, rugged and very simple to handle and a good size for concealed carrying.
He clicked the magazine out, emptied and re-loaded it so he was satisfied. After slotting the mag back into the butt, he placed the gun into the holster on his belt at the small of his back. Another piece of equipment hopefully hidden by his jacket.
Myrna had done exactly the same.
She smiled at him.
‘ Sorry about all this,’ he said with a pathetic shrug.
‘ We all make mistakes. Let’s just hope this puts yours behind us all.’
There was a light knock on the door. The three other members of that night’s team sauntered confidently into the room.
There were the two brothers, Jimmy and Dale Armstrong — two ex-cops with a lot of SWAT and undercover experience behind them. Then there was Kelly Marks, former employee of Bell in the area of Communications Engineering. All three had been fully briefed.
They were bang on time. Kruger greeted them warmly. They had been approached for their expertise and trustworthiness… and, of course, they were volunteers because Kruger would not make anyone act against Bussola against their will.
‘ Ev’rybody a-rarin’?’ Kruger asked.
He received assent from all.
‘ Let’s go then,’ he said.
Danny stirred uncomfortably in her double bed.
She had been there six hours, had trouble getting to sleep initially, and once there, had problems remaining. She tossed and rolled, sweating uncomfortably into the pillow and duvet. Too hot, then too cold. Never in quite the most comfortable of positions.
She was feeling sore from her encounter with Sands. Physically and mentally.
Her face smarted from the open-hander he had given her. The blow the base of her spine received when he’d dropped her onto the ground had jarred the whole of her body and her lumber region throbbed. The bump on the back of her head had transformed into a tender swelling the size of a ping-pong ball and was giving her a roaring headache despite the Anadin.
And she was angry — deep down and all over. Why had she let herself get taken by surprise like that! She should have known what a sneaky, low-down bastard Sands could be — after all, hadn’t he been having an adulterous affair for several months? And why hadn’t she fought back? She was perfectly capable of it. And now, damnit, she was indebted to Henry Christie. For God’s sake, she could fight her own battles, didn’t need a man to come to her rescue.
Danny sighed as she remembered the heavy figure of Sands straddling her and admitted to herself that she had been well and truly beaten. It was a good job Henry had come along, but (and here she thumped her pillow with frustration), she did not want to be beholden to anyone, let alone a man, even if he was a nice guy. The frustration turned to a giggle as she pictured Henry dancing about, holding his sore fist… and then the laugh faded. A feeling of dread seeped into the pit of her stomach when she recalled Sands’s body out cold on the garage floor… and she knew it wasn’t over.
She rubbed her eyes, squinted at the digital alarm clock. 4.03, the green figures informed her. Time to get up in just over three hours’ time.
She cursed, gingerly resettled herself in the bed, eyes wide open, all senses switched on full blast.
‘ Sleep… sleep… deep sleep,’ she willed herself rhythmically.
From outside she heard a noise which sent a shock right through her. A kind of scraping that put her teeth on edge. Metal on metal. Then a cracking, snapping sound, like a dry twig being broken in two.
