I live in the lodge behind the Senator’s house, and the lodge contains the locked gun cabinet. I opened the lock - it took all of twenty seconds - and had a look inside. As expected there were no handguns, but there were two hunting rifles and plenty of ammunition.

I selected the Browning X Bolt rifle because it was better weighted for a woman of my stature and the sights seemed to be in good order. I loaded some 7mm 08 Remington cartridges that had a 150 gram load and went into the woods. It took me ten minutes, but I got it sighted in and took the limbs off two trees. You Americans certainly make sure that if you hit it, it doesn’t walk away.”

She paused thoughtfully before continuing.

“I drove up to Richmond from Lynchburg. It took just over an hour, and I parked in the hotel car park and kept my eye on Dee’s Chrysler 300. When the phone rang again I recognised Mitchinson’s voice and knew immediately that Dee was in trouble. Taking a risk, and knowing that she couldn’t, I forwarded the text with coordinates to you. Your number was in her contact list.”

“That was you?” Steve asked.

“Yes. I was hoping that you would turn up, to save the damsel in distress, so I could concentrate on meeting up with Barry. He tried to have me killed, you know.” She was grinning.

“I wondered what was going on,” Steve admitted. “When the hotel manager eventually deigned to call me I had already set things in motion. I guess I need to thank you,” he added.

“Go on, then,” Gillian teased.

“Don’t push your luck; you’re still in very deep water,” Steve threatened, and so Gil continued.

“I followed Dee to the scrap yard, and when she disappeared with Barry I carried out a quick surveillance of the area. I came to the conclusion that he had placed no look outs. I collected the rifle from my Tahoe and slipped into the yard as quietly as I could.

Unfortunately, Mitchinson, more by good luck than by any tradecraft, had picked a great spot to keep his hostages. To get a clear shot I had to climb up an unstable scrap mountain without making any noise and find a stable shooting position. Luckily for me the scrap was well compacted, and I found a hidey hole on top of an old Chevy Chevette, from where I could see the whole area.

I was just setting up when I heard the first shot. Some idiot boy raised a pistol and fired, and the blow back nearly knocked him off his feet. If he hadn’t been so close he wouldn’t have hit Dee at all. In fact, he would have been lucky to hit the scrap yard and he was right in the middle of it. It was the sloppiest shot I’ve ever witnessed. By the way, the gun he used was bagged by one of your uniformed policemen. I picked it up carefully by the barrel so that I didn’t smudge any prints.

I saw the blood and was amazed when Dee remained standing. The boy was amazed as well, and he raised his gun for the killing shot, but Dee laid him out with one punch. Barry cracked her on the head and she went down.

Dee was out for four minutes, in which time Barry Mitchinson tied her up. I would probably have blown his head off if I had a decent shot without Katie or Dee in the way. Anyway, I sighted the rifle and waited. When he raised the gun to Katie’s head I knew I had no choice. I fired to disarm, not to kill. The hunting ammo did its duty, and from twenty five yards I don’t miss, even with an unfamiliar rifle.

You know what happened after that. Katie explained it well, and I have nothing to add.”

Steve looked at Dan Peterson, who nodded in confirmation that he had everything recorded.

“OK, you two. Wait here. I’ll bring you news of Dee as soon as I get it.”

“Mr Post?” Katie attracted Steve’s attention. “Can you check to see if Deanna from Vastrick is OK, too? If those bastards have hurt her I’ll strangle them myself in their hospital beds.”

“I wish you would,” Steve muttered under his breath. “Tom Vastrick himself is on his way down from Vermont. He’ll probably be better informed than my guys.”

Chapter 7 4

DaVitaRichmondCommunity Hospital, Virginia. USA. Wednesday 2pm.

Josh Hammond and Christine Post sat chatting across Dee’s bed. Josh had landed just that morning, having been unable to find an earlier flight. Dee was elsewhere in the hospital, undergoing further tests. Christine had been a constant by Dee’s bedside since Steve left to try to sort out the legal quagmire that five Brits had left behind them in a junk yard in Richmond.

The room was filled with flowers and cards, and a balloon was floating just below the ceiling, secured by a red tape tied to the bed frame. Tom Vastrick had taken a break to eat and would be back soon. He had arrived within hours and had tried to persuade Katie and Gil to go to a hotel and rest, but they were going nowhere.

Eventually, in the early hours of Tuesday morning, Dee had awoken, albeit briefly, from an anaesthetic induced sleep and had convinced them that she would be fine. Gil and Katie were escorted to Dee’s hotel room, where Katie fell dead asleep on the bed, whilst Gillian Davis slept fitfully on the sofa. Gil’s and Dee’s cars had been recovered by the police and were parked in the hotel lot by the time they awoke. After a further visit to Dee’s bedside, the two reluctantly departed, leaving her to rest and Tom Vastrick to stand guard. Later that day Gillian went back to Lynchburg, and Katie was driven back to see Deanna, her minder, who was back at home nursing a lump on her head and a pounding headache.

That was yesterday, and today things were beginning to return to normality. The community hospital had been overwhelmed by three patients with serious and life threatening injuries arriving within minutes of each other. They had also been told very clearly that Dee had priority as the victim. As it turned out, all three needed the care of different specialist doctors.

A heavily bandaged Dee was wheeled back into her room and lifted into bed. She groaned, and the orderlies apologised for the discomfort. The gurney left the room moments before a lady doctor appeared. Dressed in her green scrubs, with her hair scraped back in a pony tail, she looked like every female doctor on TV.

“Hello, Josh, and Dee. We have just completed the tests and the results are very positive. It appears you have been shot before, is that right?”

Dee nodded. The doctor raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“Well, I don’t need to tell you that so far you have been unbelievably lucky.” Josh took his wife’s hand as she continued. “You have lost your twelfth rib. It was shattered, and so we’ve tidied it up. It will ache for a while, but it will be fine. The kidney seems to have been unaffected by the damage it received, but we need to keep an eye on that. Otherwise the internal damage was limited to some intestinal bleeding, and the bullet holes will take time to heal. But you probably know more about that than I do. You must take a break and rest. That isn’t advice, that’s an instruction.”

“She will be resting, you can be certain about that,” a voice boomed from the doorway. Tom Vastrick, owner of Vastrick Security, left no room for discussion. The doctor spoke a little more quietly.

“There is one more test result that I would prefer to share in private.”

“No,” Dee protested. “Christine and Tom can stay. They can hear whatever it is. They’re family as far as we’re concerned.” Dee smiled at Christine, whom she had only known for a few hours but who had done so much since the shooting.

The doctor was hesitant.

“OK, whatever you say. I have to tell you that another reason you will want to rest up is that you’re pregnant.”

Josh went white and Dee’s eyes opened wide in astonishment.

“Yes. I wondered if you knew. I guess I have my answer now,” the doctor blushed.

***

The pretty dark haired nurse pushed her stainless steel trolley past the trooper on guard outside Barry Mitchinson’s room. The trooper was deep into an old Reader’s Digest.