Free Sure Fire by Jack Higgins Page B

through, and Rich felt the sharp wood catch on his trousers. He didn’t slow down.
    â€œLift!” he yelled at Jade, though she was right next to him.
    â€œToo slow,” she yelled back. “Stairs.”
    She was right – the lift wasn’t there, and they didn’t have time to wait for it. Dust and splinters were kicking up at Rich’s feet, and he realised with shock that bullets were smacking into the floorboards. Rich hurled himself down the stairs, holding tight to Jade’s hand.
    The sound of the shooting seemed to have stopped, but they kept running. Maybe the gunmen didn’t dare chase them out into the street, didn’t want to attract attention. But Rich wasn’t about to take that for granted.
    They didn’t stop running until they were three streets away. Then they collapsed, gasping and panting, hands on knees, as they doubled over to get their breath back.
    Carl, the man who had been shot by Phillips, was holding a tea towel from Chance’s kitchen tight to his wound. It was folded over several times to form a pad. He was lucky the bullet had gone through the fleshy part of his abdomen, but it was bleeding a lot. With his other hand he was pulling everything out of each of the kitchen drawers in turn.
    The other man, Ivan, was in the study. The computer was on the floor, the screen broken. Papers and books lay all over the place. The contents of the desk had been tipped on to the floor and the box on the phone line had been ripped off and thrown aside.
    He moved on to the next room – a bedroom with two single beds in it. He pulled open a drawer, and found it was full of socks and underwear. There was a packet of cigarettes hidden in among the knickers, together with a mobile phone. The man gave a snort of laughter. Naughty girl.
    â€œI don’t think it’s here,” Carl yelled in Russian. He winced with the pain of shouting.
    Ivan returned from the bedroom. “We have to check,” he replied. “But quickly.”
    â€œNo cooking oil even. Nothing that could be what we’re looking for.”
    Ivan checked the fridge. “Milk?” He lifted out the carton. It was translucent plastic and he unscrewed the top to make doubly sure. “Just milk.”
    â€œWhat about Alexei?”
    Ivan sniffed. “Probably dead. But we should remove the body. Leave no trace. I hope you haven’t bled on the carpet.”
    Carl paled at the thought. “They will find my DNA. They can trace me.”
    â€œOnly if they have you on file,” Ivan assured him. “And we don’t exist. Anyway, by this time tomorrow we’ll have you home. They won’t find you there.”
    â€œAnd we won’t find the sample here.”
    Ivan sighed. “I think you’re right. If anyone knows where to find it, my money is on those kids.”
    â€œDo we go after them?”
    Carl shook his head. “Not us. At least, not yet. But if we do find them…” He did not need to complete the thought. He smiled.
    A woman had been standing on the street opposite the house when Rich and Jade ran out. Her long black hair caught in the breeze, blowing round her as she walked quickly but without apparent hasteafter the two running figures.
    She stopped in the shadows a hundred metres from where the twins were, gasping for breath, watching them carefully, wondering how best to approach them and win their confidence. It was vitally important that they trust her and believe what she had to tell them. She had to make them understand that she was the only person in the world who could help them now…

9
    Stabb waited for Ivan and Carl at his hotel. He was staying at the Gloucester, one of the larger, better hotels in Central London. After supervising the capture of Chance and seeing him safely on to the plane, Stabb had spent a few minutes updating Vishinsky. He was surprised his employer had come in person to collect Chance. Surprised and a