He lay in bed in the morning, thinking. He realized he hadn’t done much of that before. He was attuned to letting others think and then doing their bidding. Now, there was a lot to think about. He thought about how he’d been chosen for this courier job. He thought about all that had happened the past couple of days. And then he tried to make sense of it. The more thought he gave it, the more perplexing the play of events was.
The Prime Minister had said the document was a fake, simple nonsense. If that were true, and he didn’t doubt the Prime Minister for a moment, then why was anyone trying to get it from him? Didn’t it make sense that the same people who’d given him the fake document were the ones now trying to recover it? That had to be true because they were the only ones who knew it existed and was being delivered. And the only ones who knew the route he was taking.
The Prime Minister didn’t even know the document was coming. So why had Jackson been assigned to deliver it to him specifically? So many whys! And somewhere, there had to be an explanation. It was up to him to figure it out.
As difficult as it was to believe, the fact that there’d been people on that black boat trying to kill him had to mean this wasn’t one man doing this. There were more, meaning this was a conspiracy. A conspiracy to do what? All he knew was it was a conspiracy to get hold of the document, which still made no sense.
Maybe they wanted to make sure it didn’t fall into the PM’s hands. If so, why send him with it? Why not just not send it at all?
Were there multiple groups at play here, one wanting the document delivered, one wanting to prevent it? And why wasn’t the diplomatic pouch used, as the PM had said was always done?
This was too difficult to figure out. He simply didn’t know enough.
People, innocent people, had been callously killed on the boat. Whatever the reason for that, it showed this was serious business.
So, thinking of the people on the boat being killed, what had that accomplished?
It had shown the killers that none of those men had the document. Was that all it had done?
Jackson mused and decided the answer was no. If it also had been intended to ensure the document didn’t reach the PM, it had failed at that. It had accomplished something, though: it had forced him to run. Him and Jan, but the killers, the conspirators, probably didn’t know about Jan. The point, though, was that it had caused him to run. Was that the purpose of the black boat, to scare him so he’d run? That made no sense at all. Just like everything else.
If they wanted to urge him on, to run, killing people on the boat would certainly do that. It would energize and terrorize Jackson into rushing to London to make the delivery because of the fear he was in danger until he accomplished that task and make him feel safe after doing it. So there could have been a purpose, but certainly it was a reach to think that was the plan.
It seemed too extreme, but wasn’t that one of the names given to conspirators: extremists?
Yet, forcing him to run on his own couldn’t have been left to chance, could it? Why would a tightly organized plan like this one have left it to chance that the document would be delivered?
Jackson was at a loss. What was he missing?
He was missing something. He decided he should look at it from the other end. Maybe that would help. He was getting nowhere analyzing what had happened so far.
So, who was to benefit from what was happening? Who gained by getting the document to the PM, if that was the intent? Forget how it was supposed to happen for a moment. Disregard the how and consider the why?
That was difficult, too. He didn’t know why the conspiracy would want to have the document in the man’s hands. Then he realized it could be what was in the document.
He’d read it after the PM had left. It was volatile, that was obvious. So maybe that was part of what this was, people not wanting the PM to see it. Yet the PM did see it and said it was a hoax. He didn’t seem overly concerned by it, either.
Jackson continued to think. His ideas were getting more and more absurd. One after another, he came up with a reason, then discarded it as crazy. Eventually, he did stumble on one possibility, one that did make sense and answered the questions he had. It seemed wildly improbable, though. Yet it was an explanation. It did explain everything. It deserved inspection. Maybe discussing it with the others would bring the clarity that Jackson wanted.
He got up, showered and dressed in the same clothes he’d been wearing; he had nothing else. In the shower, he found he was getting angry. He’d been used, and he was well aware of that now. No more. He was going to change. The epiphany he’d had the night before had opened his eyes.
He went downstairs and found Ted was the only one at breakfast. Ted grinned at him. “Guess a couple of kids made a long night of it. It may be some time till they pop up.”
“That’s fine.” Jackson shrugged off the comment, having more on his mind than whatever his brother had done during the night. “I need you to do something for me, and it’ll be easier without them. I may have figured out some things. I want to check on my thoughts, and I need your help.”
“Okay,” Ted said. “Just so you know, later this morning someone from Dad’s office will be coming here to get that document.”
“Why? He didn’t want it yesterday.”
“He didn’t explain, just said that he wanted it today. Maybe it has to do with speaking to the President. Does it being retrieved fit with what you are thinking?”
Jackson considered, then said, “It could; it doesn’t work against it. Okay, fine. It does mean something else, though. You’re going to think I’m crazy, but it means we’d better get a move on.”
“A move on to do what? Look, we’ve got time for breakfast, haven’t we? There are things on the sideboard on warming plates. Let’s eat first. You can tell me what this is all about while we’re doing that.”
Jackson was reluctant to do what Ted was asking. He was on edge but realized Ted was making sense and that going off half-cocked wasn’t a good way to start. So he agreed; they both loaded their plates, and while eating, Jackson laid out his thoughts.
Ted thought Jackson had blown a gasket. Jackson spoke from the heart, though, and with conviction, and Ted agreed to taking the first step of the plan Jackson had conceived. Jackson had convinced Ted that it was best not to plan for what you expected your enemy to do but for what he was capable of doing.
“Our first step is to see if I’m way off base or if what I think might be happening really is. I need to talk to whoever oversees the staff here. Can you get him?”
“Sure, though it’s a woman. Be back in a sec.” Ted got up and left the room but was back in less than a minute with a thin woman who appeared to be just past middle age. She had a stern face. She wasn’t the typical English matron in a long gray dress with hair done up in a tight bun. She wore black trousers and a gray, attractive blouse. She looked physically fit.
“This is Mrs. Tyreman, Jackson. She’s the major domo here. Everyone works for her.”
Jackson had stood when they’d entered, and while on his feet, he asked her, “Mrs. Tyreman, have you hired anyone new in the past two weeks?”
Mrs. Tyreman thought the question unusual and looked at Ted, who nodded at her. She turned back to Jackson, “Yes, a new gardener. He’s working under Phillips, the head gardener and handyman. Can I ask why you want to know?”
“Certainly, but I’m afraid I can’t tell you why. Sorry about that.” Jackson had a sudden feeling he wasn’t used to. He couldn’t remember a time he’d been so forceful, abrupt, even demanding of another adult. He was standing up for what he wanted. He realized what he was feeling was pride, and it felt good. But that was a thought for later. Now, he asked, “And can you tell me why that position was open?”
“The man working in that job called and quit. No notice, either. We were surprised; he was a good man who liked his job. But he quit, and this new man, Conroy Bates, showed up with a CV showing good references and experience, so we hired him. Did we make a mistake? Please, I need to know.”
“You’ll find out when I have time, which I don’t have right now. Thanks, Mrs. Tyreman. We’ll talk later.”
Mrs. Tyreman wrinkled her brow. She wasn’t used to being summarily dismissed, but as Ted seemed to accept this, she simply turned and left.
Jackson and Ted both sat back down, and then Jackson said, “I just had a thought. “When your dad called about getting the document, was it on his cellphone or a landline?”
“Dad doesn’t use, uh, mobiles. Says they’re just like radio broadcasts and too easy to be listened to. He always uses a landline.”
“Those can be tapped just as well. Even encrypted ones can be unencrypted.” Jackson stopped for a moment, then said. “Okay, trouble. We may have a whole lot less time than I figured. If I’m right, we could be under attack soon. These people want that document, and they aren’t squeamish in getting what they want. They killed before and will again. These guys are fanatics. They were indiscriminately killing people on the boat. We may not even have time to call the police. It’d take forever filling them in, and even then, they’d probably not be convinced.
“I’ll go wake the boys. You go tell the staff to get out of here or hide where they can’t be reached. Your dad told us that Mrs. Tyreman and the gardener were trained security persons. Have them come to the gunroom you showed us on the tour yesterday. You come, too. We need a plan of defense and to arm ourselves. I don’t know if we have time to prepare or not. Best if we hurry. Go!”
Ted left at a trot, and Jackson went upstairs. He opened Tyler’s door, assuming that’s where the boys would have slept, and he found he’d guessed correctly.
The two boys were on the bed, sleeping. They were nude and had kicked most of the covers off. Evidently sleeping intertwined as they were, they’d been plenty warm enough.
Jackson smiled, seeing them, then stepped over and shook arms. When they stirred, he backed away and turned around. “Guys, listen. I’m pretty sure we’ll be under armed attack any moment now. Get dressed and meet Ted and me in the gunroom. Hurry. Not a minute lose.”
Jackson spoke to the two adults. “The Prime Minister told us you were part of the security here.”
“We’re both of them are ex-army,” Mrs. Tyreman said. “I understand from Ted that you feel we may be under attack?”
“I think so. I think they’ll be coming for a document I have. We need to be ready. They’ve already shown no restraint when it comes to killing to get what they want.”
While he was talking, Phillips had been collecting guns and ammunition. The gun room was where the guns for pheasant shoots were kept. There were pictures on the wall of fox hunts and pheasant shoots and groups of people with guns aimed into the air. So far, Phillips had ten double-barreled shotguns on the table along with boxes of shells.
Tyler and Jan came in then, looking still half asleep but worried. Jackson told everyone what he expected. “I think we’re about to be invaded. These people want the document I still have. The terrorists—I don’t know what else to call them—didn’t know if it was here or at 10 Downing Street, but I’m afraid they learned it was still here not long ago. They want it and, if I’m right, they’ll be coming for it. We have to be ready for them.”
“Why do you think they’re coming—and right now?” Tyler asked.
“They’ve already shown how much they want it. If they know it’s here, they could assume they can storm in here with little or no resistance and force us to give it to them. I think they’re well organized, and we know they’re brutal. They decided a couple of weeks ago they might have to invade this house, and looking at how to do that, they could have decided they needed an inside man. He’s now here, and his job won’t only be to support the attackers. His main function would be to take out the security guard at the front gate and then open it.”
“Damn!” Ted said. “I forgot all about him when warning the staff and getting Mrs. Tyreman and Mr. Phillips.”
“Marge, get him on the intercom!” That was Phillips. “Tell him to beware of Conroy coming for him with a gun.”
Marge flipped on the intercom she had on her belt and clicked to the gate. “Lloyd?” she said. Lloyd must have pressed his button to respond because they heard a voice say something. There was a moment of silence, then what sounded like a gun shot.
“Too late,” Phillips said. “This is real. It’s happening. Marge, the front door. They’re coming. Just beginning now if what we heard was Conroy taking out the gatekeeper. We probably have a few moments to set up. But we need a head count of our attackers! Marge?”
Marge nodded, then said, “I find out if I can.” To Jackson, she appeared to be entirely unstressed and fully in the moment. She plucked two shotguns from the table and a box of shells and quickly stepped out, heading for the front of the house.
Phillips looked at the others. “No time for planning. I assume Conroy’s told them what wing we’re in. We need to protect the doors and windows. All points of entry, but mostly the doors as these people certainly think they’re taking us by surprise. Ted, get up in the tower. Hurry! We need an observer to tell us where they are once they’re here. Windows and doors, guys; Ted can tell us where they’re going, and that’s what we must protect. Ted, you can see everything from up there. Guys, we cannot let them get inside!”
While talking he was moving to one side of the room. He opened a cabinet and took out several walkie-talkies and
handed one to everyone. “They’re all on the same channel. Press the button to speak. We’ll all
hear. It’ll take another fifteen, twenty seconds for our visitors to come into sight. I’ll take the
front door with Marge. We need someone on the side door and one in the back. The one left unassigned should be
prepared to cover any window Ted tells us is being attacked. This wing faces south. So the east windows are on this
side, the west windows on the other side.
Phillips was speaking fast, his words almost running together. “These guys are going to kill us; they did Lloyd; don’t hesitate; shoot first if you can. They’re attacking us, so defense is legal. It’s them or us, and we’d prefer it be them. These are shotguns, and the safeties are off. Just point and pull the trigger. Shoot center mass and you’ll be okay. Shoot and reload immediately. Take a gun, or two, and a box of shells.”
As they were grabbing the guns, Phillips was still talking. “Take protection behind something solid. They’ll have assault rifles that’ll shoot through anything flimsy.”
Marge called from the front. “They’re here. Two cars, eight people, I think. Yes, eight, and they’re all out of the car now and spreading out. Wait, they’re going in two groups of four, one right toward me. The other probably headed for the back.”
“Go. Go. Go,” Phillips said. “Positions! He headed for the front door.
Jackson ran to the back door, thankful for the tour they’d had yesterday. He was scared but more focused than frightened. He was focused to an extent that surprised him. He saw Tyler heading for the side door, which opened into the house from a porte-cochère. Saw him take a position behind a doorframe, then tip a solid table on its side so he had two layers of wood to crouch behind. That was all the time Tyler had to prepare.
Jan stood in the middle hallway, waiting for Ted up above to direct him to one of the windows. Jackson studied his face and saw no nerves at all. Yep, he thought, that was Jan.
There were eight attackers and only six defenders. Jackson pressed the button on his walkie-talkie. “Phillips, either you or Mrs. Tyreman has to cover the other side window set. Both sides will probably be hit at the same time if they coordinate at all, and Jan can’t cover both.”
There was a pause, and then, “Marge’ll do it. I can manage the front by myself. By them separating into two groups, there won’t be more than four attackers at any location, probably only here, and I can easily handle just four.”
Then Ted’s voice came. He was panting from his race up to the top. “No one’s stopping at the windows. Two went to the porte-cochère, two to the back, four are in front.”
Phillips again. “Jan, go support Tyler at his side. Take good cover there. They’ll come in prepared to shoot, maybe shooting. Marge, be ready to support anyone who needs it, probably Jackson or me.”
Jackson was stationed behind a cabinet in the kitchen where he could see into the passage that led from the back door into the kitchen. It wouldn’t stop a bullet, he was sure, but he was hidden there, not able to be seen by anyone coming into the kitchen through the back passage, and there was nowhere else that would give him that view, and nowhere else he’d have better protection from gunfire.
To live, he’d have to shoot first and accurately. He tried to calm himself, but that wasn’t about to happen. He needed to be able to hold his shotgun steady! He was still thinking, however, and something else occurred to him.
He pressed his button again. “Phillips, they may be wearing protective vests. The shotgun blast may just knock them down.”
He got an immediate answer. “Good thinking. Okay everyone, remember, shoot for center mass. That will knock them down, stop them briefly even in vests. When there’s time, shoot for an unprotected area, the head if you can see it. But most anywhere you hit will take them out of the game.”
Jackson’s heart was racing. He’d never fired a gun in his life. He didn’t like them. Yet at the same time, he was awfully glad he had one now.
If what Ted was seeing was accurate, he could expect two men to enter the kitchen, probably walking with guns straight out in front of them, maybe crouched low, maybe one behind the other. If they were spaced that way, he’d only be able to shoot the first one. They each probably had an assault weapon that fired multiple rounds at a time, and his cabinet wouldn’t be any protection against those. He had surprise and concealment for the first man; he had no protection at all for the second.
His thinking was calming him a little. He decided he’d shoot the first man, then immediately roll away from where he was. Hopefully, any return fire would be directed at where he’d been, and he could get off a clear second shot.
His heart rate and breathing were still too rapid. He tried to slow himself down but found he couldn’t.
Then he heard gunfire from the front of the house. First, there was the deep sound of the shotgun and then the staccato, higher pitched shots from assault guns. Now, Jackson was really scared. This was happening. Then, after a short pause from the front, he heard four quick blasts from the shotgun, followed almost immediately by two more.
He had to ignore that. A shadow appeared at the end of the passageway, and a man appeared and moved into the kitchen. Jackson steadied his aim, but paused. Where was the second man? He had to wait till he could see them both.
Jackson waited, and the man in the kitchen jerked his head, doing a quick 180° scan of the kitchen, then stepped farther into the room. Still no second man. Jackson dithered. What should he do? If he shot just one man, his surprise was gone for the second, and he was sure that man would be more experienced than he was and had a better weapon. But the first man was moving forward, and he couldn’t let him move out of the kitchen.
He didn’t know what to do but had no time to analyze the problem. Prioritize, he thought. Kill the man he could. One down, one to go then.
Jackson centered his aim on the man, sketched in his head how he’d have to roll as the second man appeared, and pulled the trigger.
He hadn’t been expecting the recoil of the gun, and it almost knocked him over backwards. The fact he was on his knees leaning forward saved him. The shot rocked him backwards, but he quickly recovered. Still no second man. No need to roll. He waited, still gasping for air.
Just then he heard two more shotgun blasts, then one more, all coming from where Jan and Tyler were.
Jackson was shaking, but he remembered what Phillips had said, and he quickly reloaded his shotgun. Two more shots were now available. His man wasn’t moving, but was he dead? Jackson couldn’t tell. Yet he couldn’t venture out to check because the second man might come out of the passageway at any moment.
He had to know what was what. He remembered his walkie-talkie and pushed the button. Trying not to let his voice carry, he said, “Ted, only one came into the kitchen. Did two men come in the back door into the house?”
Ted’s answer came immediately. “I can’t see close to the house like that. But two men were together when I lost sight of them. I think two came in. But there’s a back stairway in that passage leading upstairs. He probably went up that. Hey, I have no protection up here. I didn’t bring a gun. Didn’t think I needed one.”
That brought another voice. Jan’s. “The two here are dead. I’m coming up, Ted. Stay alive. I’m coming.”
“No, I’m coming!” That was Tyler. Jackson shook his head. This was no time for heroics. Tyler was probably trying to keep Jan from danger, feeling things after what had gone on last night. Jackson’s finger reached for the button, but Philips beat him to it.
“Hold it!” That was Phillips. “We got four kills, you got two, Jan, and Jackson got one. That leaves one guy. He wouldn’t wait in the passageway. He’d be dead meat there, and he knows it. He’s either gone upstairs or is doing a runner. But this isn’t a job for you, Jan, or you, Tyler. Marge and I’ll get him. We’ve trained on this exercise.
“Jackson, make sure he’s not in the passageway or on the stairs, what you can see of it from the bottom. Jan, go help Jackson. That’s a two-man job. One protects while one looks. It’s dangerous, so be careful. Ted, barricade where you are the best you can and watch so we’ll know if the eighth man leaves through the back door. So far, none of us good guys has suffered a scratch. Let’s keep it that way. Marge and I will take care of the inside bogey.”
There was silence, and then Phillips again, his voice hard now. “Jan, Tyler, tell me you copy!”
Another pause, and then, “You’re right.” Jan’s voice. “I’ll go help Jackson and take Tyler with me.”
Jackson waited till the two boys came into the kitchen. He waved at them to join him behind the cabinet. “I have to check on the guy on the floor. What I need is cover while doing it. The last man may be in the passage. I don’t want that guy coming out and shooting me while I’m exposed. Okay?”
“Got it.” Jan squatted comfortably and brought his shotgun up aiming at the door into the passage. Tyler did the same from a slightly different angle.
Jackson started forward, then stopped and asked, “You guys didn’t forget to reload, did you?”
Jan shook his head in wonderment. “What’s gotten into you? You’re not the same guy I was with yesterday. That guy would be shitting his pants and curled up in a fetal position. You’ve come alive! You’re thinking and acting. But, as for reloading, I’m still me, and because of that, there are two live shells in my gun.”
Jackson looked at Tyler, who blushed and quickly reloaded.
Jackson grinned at Jan. “Just checking. But that other guy you were asking about? Yesterday’s guy? He’s gone, and forever, I hope. I like this new guy better.”
Jan nodded. “So do I.”
Jackson moved into the kitchen carefully, but was reassured when he saw the man’s gun had fallen a short distance away from either of his hands. He was lying in an awkward position, mostly on his back. Jackson couldn’t tell if he was breathing, and he wasn’t about to lean down over him to check for a pulse. If he was dead, he wouldn’t mind being shot again, and if he wasn’t, well, he needed to be. Jackson took a deep breath, aimed, and shot the man in the face.