The Hunter Page 8

  ‘You stupid bitch. None of this would be happening if my father was alive. He’d have kept you in-line.’

  ‘You really don’t know do you. You really are so self-centred, you can’t see beyond yourself.’ I was getting too close to dangerous ground now and forced myself to stop. I turned away from him and tried to focus on the salad that I was making. I picked up the jar of beetroot and wrestled with the lid.

  ‘What do you mean.’ he growled.

  ‘’I mean nothing.’ I snapped. ‘I’ve decided to make some changes around here and this miserable, hate-filled house will go on the market tomorrow when I’ve seen the agent.’

  ‘You can’t do that. It’s my inheritance....You can’t do it’

  ‘Oh, but I can...I can and I will.’

  I thought he was going to cry. I certainly didn’t expect what happened next.

  And it all happened so quickly.

  I felt rather than actually saw Jacques’ hand reach for my knife block. He pulled out the long boning knife that had an edge sharper than most razors. At the same time Madeleine suddenly appeared in the doorway.

  ‘What’s this.’ she said in her stern teacher’s voice. ‘Jacques, you naughty boy. Put that down.’

  She reached out to take the blade from him. Jacques lunged and the finely ground blade sliced into her neck. Blood sprayed across the room as Madeleine sank to the tiled floor clutching at her throat.

  Jacques giggled like a slow-witted child. I turned to try to help my friend.

  I didn’t feel any pain.

  My left arm went numb and I remember dropping the jar of beetroot as I fell forwards. From the corner of my eye I could see the orange handle of the long knife. It must be stuck in my neck I thought, as though seeing it in a dream. The jar smashed splattering across the floor....and the waste was all I could think of.

  My forehead must’ve hit the tiles just then. Everything went horribly dark and silent.

  ~ ~ ~

  ‘Ha! Well that fixes you Maddie.’ Jacques sneered. ‘Never did like you. Hated you most-times.’ he stepped carefully around the spreading pool of the old lady’s blood. ‘Do this, do that. Pick up your coat, hang up your jacket.’ he mimicked pulling his leather driving gloves tighter onto his hand. Clumsily, he tried to wipe away the blood from his gloved fingers onto Madeleine’s woollen jumper, but it was too sticky.

  Jacques reached for the handle of the knife that stuck from his mother’s neck. He gave it a tug, but it was stuck fast. He imagined the sharp, shiny blade sticking into her chest.

  ‘Doesn’t matter. No prints anyway.’

  He noticed that she was still breathing. But only just, he thought. He watched as blood oozed around the slim blade to trickle down into her silk shirt. A dark red stain spread across the floor from beneath Marie.

  ‘Tough old bag, aren’t you. Still with us. But only just, more blood from you than Maddie. You’ll soon be gossiping together I think.’ And he turned away, jogging out to the landrover he’d parked on the road.

  ‘Old schoolmarm must’ve had a remote for the gate.’ he grumbled as he pulled himself into the driver’s seat.

  The young men who’d been waiting in the Landrover all began talking at once.

  ‘Shut up!’ shouted Jacques, pulling off his sticky-wet leather gloves and wiping the steering wheel with a cloth. ‘What you’ve just seen is mother’s new beau, Guilliame, leaving the house in his car. We didn’t stop here, but followed him back to his place to see what he’d been up to. To teach him a lesson.’ he turned to look at them. Carefully eyeing each face in turn. ‘Got it?’

  ‘What about the old lady. The one what just went in....She saw us. Came and looked through the window she did.’

  ‘Don’t worry about her Charles. She’ll not be telling any tales.’ Jacques clapped him on his broad shoulders. ‘Just keep to the story.’

  Chapter 13

  That night, William was off to bed quite early, tired from his busy day. As he lay there, he thought of Marie, wondered where she was, what was she thinking? He’d just called her home and left a message on her answering machine telling her what they’d seen as they’d driven by the house that evening. There was a smile on his face as he fell asleep.

  And so soundly did he sleep, that he slept past his normal time the following morning and was woken by a vigorous hammering on the cottage door. He stumbled through the house, clutching a sheet about his nakedness.

  Turn to the left, zigzag, run.

  Feel the evil glee of the hunter,

  smell the stink of human flesh.

  Run, run to escape the wanton gun.

  Duck, dive, find a place to hide.

  Thicket, bramble, somewhere they won’t come.

  ~ ~ ~

  As I opened the door I was greeted by the sneering smile of Jacques. His face reddened and the tell-tale smell of amphetamine abuse stronger than ever.

  ‘Well good morning Monsieur Blake. Or perhaps I should say Monsieur Don Juan.’ his face, with at least two day’s stubble, contorted into a sneer. ‘We hope you slept well?’ he said, waving an arm at several friends that were gathered around to see the sport. They looked to be paramilitary, all dressed the same in camouflage pattern trousers and shirts and wearing soft-leather lace-up boots.

  ‘What time is it? What are you all doing here?’

  ‘Ah...You have a short memory eh? I promised you yesterday morning that I’d see to you.’ he grinned at his cronies. ‘I’ve brought the time forward for your little test. We’re going to do it this morning....Now in fact.’

  One of the youths grabbed me by the arm and began pulling me out to a landrover, he was tall, nearly as big as me and of a build that suggested he too had spent many hours in a gym.

  ‘Wait.......Wait, I need to get dressed....at least have a cup of coffee.’

  ‘Henri didn’t tell you?’ Jacques giggled. ‘Ah, but he couldn’t have – I’ve only just invented the new rule....You’ll run like the game animals, naked!’

  They all laughed at his stupid joke.

  I felt sick. ‘This is ridiculous!’ I shouted. ‘And you, you big lout, let go of me.’ I dragged my arm free and shoved the youth away.

  ‘Get in the car.’ A voice ordered from behind me.

  I turned and saw the rifle in Jacques hands, his eyes were black, the pupils fully dilated by the drug he was using. He looked wild – on the verge of losing self-control. But behind him, another figure came through the door. Rachel. Her hair tousled from sleep and a dark frown on her face, she was wrapped in a towelling dressing gown.

  ‘What’s going on. Who are these...’ she began.

  ‘Well, well...look who we have here.’ smiled Jacques. ‘Proper little harem you must have Guillaume. But this one is much too pretty, much too young for an old man like you.’

  ‘She is my daughter. Touch one hair, Jacques, and I’ll rip your head off.’

  ‘I don’t think you’re in a position to threaten me...old man.’

  ‘No threat Jacques. It’s a promise.’

  ‘Charles, stay with the bitch. If her old man doesn’t do as he’s told...you can have her to play with.’

  The lout who’d tried to pull me to the car stepped across to stand behind Rachel.

  ‘You...’ Jacques nodded to Rachel, ‘You do as you’re told and you’ll be ok. Go get the old man his jeans and some trainers....quickly. Charles, go with her, any foolishness....well, you know what to do.’

  Rachel looked at me. I nodded and tried to smile. ‘Sorry about all this Rachel. It’s not your affair, but it’ll be ok.’ she nodded and went indoors, Charles followed like a lumbering puppy.

  Jacques, openly agitated and excited, fidgeted. He fiddled with the rifle safety catch, flicking it on and off. All the while he grinned like a fool and swayed from one foot to the other.

  I pulled on the denim shirt and jeans Rachel brought down, I felt the lump of my old Blackberry that she’d managed to slip into a pocket and smiled. I was abo
ut to pull on the walking boots when, with a sheen of sweat on his face, Jacques pointed the rifle at me and shouted.

  ‘Do that in the car old man. Go on, get in now. Go. Go!’

  As we drove away from the cottage, I saw Rachel’s pale face turn towards us as we sped away.

  ~ ~ ~

  The short trip to the shooting club was in silence. My mind buzzed with possibilities. The smell of old socks was sharp in the air, but I could detect the strong, sickly odour of something else. Something that was more familiar to an old marine. I could smell blood, fresh blood. And now I could see that what I took to be a patch of wet perspiration on Jacques shirt was darkening and looked to be stiffening as it dried. There were dark spatters on the right leg of his trousers and sleeve of his shirt. What had the evil wretch been up to, I wondered.

  As expected, the place was deserted when we arrived. One of the men unlocked the gates so we could drive in and Jacques parked beside the clubhouse building.

  ‘Get out old man.....fornicator, seducer.....I’m going to teach you a lesson. I said that I’d sort you.’ he pointed the muzzle of his rifle at my chest. ‘I told you that you weren’t wanted. I told you to go back where you came from. But no, you were too stupid to listen. Now, Englishman, you must pay.’

  ‘Don’t talk stupid boy....your mother’s a very attractive woman. If it’s not me, it’ll be someone else.’

  ‘She’s not going to be around much longer.....She’s probably gone by now.’ he giggled. ‘Everything is mine now. Everything...do you hear me.’

  ‘Dream on buster. Marie’s fit and healthy, she’ll be around for years yet.’ I looked at the rifle in the man’s hands. ‘Unless you’re going to kill her? But I don’t think you’ve the guts to do anything on your own.’ William gestured towards the small gang of friends that were waiting by the clubhouse doors.

  Jacques worked a bullet into the chamber of his gun ‘Is that so. Well there’s news for you....Charles says she had cancer....terminal. And we thought that’s why she went to Paris. For private treatment. But it didn’t work. It cost thousands. But it doesn’t matter now. I’ve seen to it.’ Jacques giggled like a child.

  He glanced over his shoulder and threw the clubhouse keys to one of his cronies ‘Wait inside you lot.’

  ‘You really are the most selfish, sick bastard I’ve ever met’ I said. ‘What do you mean, “You’ve seen to it.” What have you done?’

  Jacques grinned, ‘Nothing....I’ve done nothing. And I’ve got witnesses.’

  ‘I think we should stop these silly games and call the police, the Gendarmes.’ my chest felt tight, I could hardly breathe with thoughts of what he might have done. ‘Surely not. Not your own mother.’ I gasped, my thoughts twisting, lurching as if on a helter-skelter.

  He smiled, ‘Oh this isn’t a silly game. It’s just you and me Guillaume. I’m going to give you a head start. I’ll fire my gun when I start out after you. I may bring it with me – I may not. Don’t make me angry.’

  ‘What if I don’t go......what if I just stand here?’

  ‘Then it’ll be the shortest hunt in the record book won’t it....Not exactly sure what will happen to your daughter, but I’ve a pretty good idea.’ he giggled again and staggered. ‘You get to the old oak tree first and you’ve won. If you don’t - then it’s my win, either way, you don’t get to see mother again....Ever.’

  I looked hard at him, I needed to get this over with quickly, I thought. Get out of sight, call Rachel, see if she could call an ambulance for Marie and get the Gendarmes over here....at the rush.

  Jacques was still talking, his rifle butt resting on his thigh in a vague hunter pose. I watched him flicking the safety catch up and down.

  ‘I’ll play fair Guillaume, I’ll give you a couple of minutes....So fly, my English fornicator....the clock is ticking.’

  I sprinted away, flew over the edge of the ravine and, as soon as the gulley hid me from view, doubled back, following the trail I’d planned just the day before. My mind raced. I was near the top of the ravine, where it began to get much shallower and was hidden behind some dense willow when I heard the sharp crack of a rifle shot. I waited, peering through the branches praying that Jacques would follow the normal route, away from where I crouched.

  My heart thumped in my chest. I saw Jacques leap into the ravine and hurtle downhill, away from me. His rifle gripped in his hand.

  ~ ~ ~

  Jacques laughed, his stride lengthened into a reckless run.

  ‘Ha! When I catch you, you’ll get it. An accident, even a fatal one, will be easy to explain.....they’re always happening....two here last year.’ he chambered a bullet and flicked the safety catch to off.

  ‘Bang! Bang!’ he shouted. Then thought, you might even be the first accidental death of the new season. We’ll get headlines. But whatever, another body won’t make any difference. His laugh was like something from a low-budget horror play.

  Jacques’ feet pounded the track, his attention focussed on the way ahead. Here and there, he could see the fresh tracks in the soft sand.

  ‘My....but you’re fast old man. But I’m quicker. No one beats Jacques de Beauchamp....no one!’

  In the back of his mind a creeping doubt was forming. Had the old man a foxy cunning? Had he taken a different route? Jacques looked up at the steep sides of the deepening ravine. No, he thought, I’d lose too much time scrambling up there for a look. He must have come this way. I can see the tracks. The footprints. The flattened grass.

  Nothing, to betray the chase.

  Not a sound not a call.

  No stamp of running feet.

  No movement to expose,

  the silent, stealthy closing,

  of the hunter's deadly noose.

  ~ ~ ~

  I needed to make up some precious time. I sprinted to the top of the ravine’s shallow gulley and, as I looked over the edge, down into the bowl of the river valley I pulled out the Blackberry. I punched Rachel’s number onto the screen and pressed the call button....nothing. What a moment for the thing to give up. I shook it, then noticed that the battery was dead. I looked back towards the bottom of the valley, there was nobody in sight. I pulled myself over the gulley-edge and, crouching low to keep my silhouette off the skyline, went as fast as I could across the stretch of open ground to a shallow drainage ditch. Brambles tugged at my legs and scored bright stripes on my shoulders as I ploughed onwards.

  During my spell in the Marines I’d seen a lot of death. Corpses piled high by ruthless mercenaries, wounds gaping and bloody where the flesh had been viciously torn by tumbling bullets. Always, you wondered if some brute had your back in his sights.

  And after all that, getting through without even a scratch, was it going to happen now....Today?

  They said you didn’t hear the sound of the shot that had your name on it. How’d they know that, I wondered.

  I had no doubt of Jacques’ intentions though. Whoever arrived at the old oak first, the result would be the same. I would lose and Jacques would claim that an inexperienced foreigner had accidentally shot himself.

  My chest heaved with gasping breath.

  Then it happened.

  A tight pain tore through my chest. My first thought was that I’d been shot. But quickly I realised that it was my heart. I hadn’t had an Angina attack for ages.

  ‘Oh, bugger! Not now. Please, not now!’ I dropped to my knees and forced myself to breathe deeply.

  My chest still heaved, I gasped for breath, but the tightness of the pain eased. I risked inviting a shot, and stood to search the line that I knew Jacques must be taking. Nothing in sight. But I knew he was there. Down there, with the deadly intent of a madman. Fuelled by a mixture of alcohol and drugs, he’d almost be the superhuman being that he thought he was....Almost. But his overblown confidence would lead him into mistakes. I’d seen it all before, in a far away, dusty desert.

  I started running again, focussing my eyes and mind on the towering oak tree to ke
ep from glancing around for my hunter. Maybe there’s a chance I can disarm him, I thought and a desperate plan began to form in my mind.

  Gasping breath controlled

  perhaps the pursuit is lost

  perhaps the race is won

  Time to make a new plan

  Maybe a dash to the finish,

  Maybe end, and be damned.

  ~ ~ ~

  As I’d hoped, I arrived at the oak tree first. I crouched behind it and listened. I could hear the sound of splashing from the ford in the loop of the river below. With an effort, I forced my breathing under control and heaved myself up into a forked bough of the ancient tree. My heart hammered and my head felt dizzy from the effort and shock. I felt the sting of bile in my throat and the metallic taste of adrenalin in my mouth.

  Was that a movement? I could swear I heard a rustling in the gorse and scrub behind. I turned, but couldn’t see anything. Except for a riffling from the small breeze there was no movement. I’d imagined for one awful moment that one of his gang might have somehow got here before me. But it was quiet again. I turned to watch the low ground towards the river.

  Jacques appeared from the river bank like a wraith. He paused and scoured the ground in front of him carefully before he trotted warily up to the old tree.

  He turned, swinging the muzzle of his gun as he scanned the area

  ‘Where are you. You bloody foxy-bastard. Come on.....Come out!’ he yelled as he searched the scrubby heath.

  After a moment, Jacques lowered the rifle and rested the butt against the hard earth by his boot. He pulled out his mobile phone.

  I jumped and dropped with the precision of a blacksmith’s hammer. My feet landed squarely in the middle of his back.

  We both fell to the ground. And as we did, there was the crack of a gunshot. A sharp smell of cordite stung my nose.

  The bullet entered his skull from beneath his throat and burst from his face in a hail of splintered bone and teeth. But the details wouldn’t interest him. In his mind he saw a blindingly brilliant light and then darkness. Black, dense, silent darkness.

  Jacques was dead.

  The end was as he’d seen it,

  but the victim was not as planned.

  No more will he shout, laugh and chase

  No more will he bring fear and terror