Page 88 of Savage Obsession

They’re sitting ducks out there in front of the house. We cut them down almost instantly. Neither of the dead men is San Antonio.

Four men drop from one of the other helicopters armed with rifles and a chainsaw. They run around to the rear of the cottage while the rest of our fleet continue to circle and bombard the front of the cabin.

No one else emerges.

“Right,” I mutter, to no one in particular. “Like that, is it?” I signal to our pilot to descend low enough for us to drop to the ground. The other two choppers stay airborne to cover us from their vantage point in the air.

We take cover behind trees at the very edge of the forest and train our guns on the door.

“San Antonio,” I yell. “It’s all over. Come out of there.”

His response is a volley of gunfire from the window.

As soon as there’s a break in the shooting, I break cover and run in a crouch towards the building, to hurl myself to the ground right at the foot of the front wall, to the left of the door. Kris is on my heels and takes up a similar position on the right. Guns drawn, we wait. And listen.

There’s no sound from within. I try again at persuasion.

“San Antonio. This is Baz Bartosz, and you have my wife in there. Let her go, unharmed, and we’ll back off.”

It’s a lie, but worth trying.

Or not. “Do you think I’m a fool, Bartosz?”

“At least you’re a live fool. That could soon change.”

“Which would make two of us, Bartosz. She’s a pretty lady, your wife. You are a lucky man. I’ve been enjoying her company these last few days. And that of your lovely daughter, too.”

I’m not rising to the taunt. “Just let her go, San Antonio.”

“Sorry, I’m afraid that won’t be happening. I need you to withdraw your soldiers, and I want a fast motor launch, on the beach behind the cottage. Within half an hour, or she dies.”

“That won’t be happening, San Antonio. You can’t escape so you might as well give it up. Now.”

His response is another round of gunfire over our heads. Then, “Don’t fuck me about. You have thirty minutes, or the lovely Mrs Bartosz is history.”

So much for negotiation. Time for a change of tack. I calculate that any second now our men will enter from the rear, so a little welcoming gift would be in order to smooth the way for them. I reach for the arsenal of weaponry attached to my belt and select a stun grenade. I deliberately choose limited range explosives. The cottage is no more than six metres square, and I don’t want to blow the entire place to smithereens. On a count of five, I prime it and lob it through the shattered window above my head.

Despite my precautions, the boom is deafening. Sorry, Julia. We wait a few seconds, then leap to our feet and in unison apply our boots to the door. It shatters, and we enter the shack at the same moment our men burst in from the bedroom.

Three bodies lie on the floor. San Antonio, Julia, and the dark-haired girl we saw earlier. I leave San Antonio to Kris and the men, while I drop to my knees beside my wife.

“Julia? Kochanie, can you hear me?” I lift her so that she’s lying across my lap. “Open your eyes, Julia. I need you to?—”

She stirs, moaning. Thank God.

“Julia? Can you hear me?” I repeat and cup her jaw in my gloved palm. “Speak to me.”

“Baz…?” Her voice is a strangled croak. “Is it…?”

“Yes, I’m here. You’re safe now.” Relief washes over me.

Her eyes flicker open. She gazes up at me, unfocussed, dazed, barely conscious.

I yell over my shoulder through the door which swings from its hinges. “I need a medic in here. Now.”

One of the men surrounding San Antonio darts past me and out through the remains of the door. Moments later, one of our men trained in rudimentary field medicine sprints in.

I shuffle aside to let Krzysztof do his job.

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