Sharp Shot. Justin Richards

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СКАЧАТЬ “the challenge is to work out how we take a picture with us all in. There’s no timer.”

      McCain sighed and took the camera. “Why do I always have to be the practical one? I need a small stone about…this big.” He held his thumb and forefinger in a small circle.

      There was no shortage of stones about the right size —just big enough to cover the camera’s shutter button. McCain balanced the camera on a low section of wall that protruded from a higher wall. Then he put heavy stones round the camera to hold it in place. He wedged another on the top, jutting out over the lens, but leaving the shutter button with the small stone on it exposed.

      “Right, assume your positions.”

      “Is that it?” Halford asked, laughing. “Now what?”

      “Yeah,” said Darrow, “what’s the big deal. Someone still needs to press the shutter.”

      “I think that’s the idea,” said Chance. “Right, Ferdy?”

      McCain was grinning. “Exactly right. Get ready. The camera’s lined up with this bit of wall here, so let’s all stand in front of it. Oh, and we’ll need some pebbles. About this big, I should think.” He picked up a stone the size of an egg and weighed it in his hand. “Yes, that should do it. I’ll go first.”

      “What are you going to do?” Darrow asked.

      “Bung rocks at it. Ready?”

      They could see at once what McCain meant when he tossed the egg-sized stone. He lobbed it up on to higher section of wall. The stone rattled down the wall, bouncing on to the stones holding the camera steady.

      “Missed,” said McCain. “Who’s going next?”

      The third pebble did it. Halford arced it into the air above the wall just as first McCain and then Darrow had done. The pebble rattled down, and this time struck the small stone on the shutter button. The weight of the impact was enough to take the picture.

      “Nice one, Ferdy,” said Chance as they all watched him retrieve the camera and wind on the film. “Now then, let’s see what Mark’s got in his backpack, shall we?”

      Reluctantly, Darrow opened his rucksack and lifted out his ‘souvenir’. It was a statue made from a dark brown material, like terracotta, about half a metre tall and maybe fifteen centimetres wide. It was in the shape of a lion standing upright on its back legs, and it was obviously old; the features and details had worn away, the material scuffed and scratched and flaking. Chance remembered that one 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 СКАЧАТЬ