Page 192 of Storm over the Caribbean
The man of many names snorted. As if he would be afraid of some jumped-up pirate! Thugs like that were easily recognizable. His agents would spot them the moment the rag-tag band entered town, and if they did not take care of the matter, the soldiers in the town would. It wasn’t as if a pirate could suddenly learn to dress like a gentleman and stroll into town.
Snorting at the mental image, the man got up from his armchair and went to his bookcase to pick out something toread. It was about two hours later that he was again interrupted by a knock on the door.
“What is it this time?” he demanded, annoyed.
No answer. Instead, another knock.
“Oh,mon dieu!” Growling, he got to his feet and moved to the door. “I’m coming, I’m coming! Calm down, will y—”
He cut off as he heard something from beyond the door. A…metallic click?
It was an instinctual reaction. In a blink, he threw himself to the side and pressed himself against the wall. That was the only thing that saved his life when the bullet tore through the door where, a moment ago, his head had been.
“Sacre bleu! What—”
Another shot hit the door, this time blowing out the lock. The Frenchman decided now was not the time for questions. Hurling himself away from the doorway, he raced back into the drawing room. For a moment, he hesitated. Where to go? Bathroom? Dead end. The chimney? Blocked by a grate. The—
Bam!
Behind him, he heard the sound of the door slamming against the wall.
Merde!No more time!
Not daring to waste another second to glance back, he rushed towards the balcony and shoved open the French window. Who the heck was after him? An assassin? His recent missions hadn’t involved anything that would warrant—
Bang!
Crack!
A third bullet whizzed past his head, shattering a pane of glass and showering the Frenchman in splinters.
“Merde! Merde! Merde!” Wiping drops of blood from his eyes, he stumbled forward towards the railing. Who? Who the hellwas this?! Nobody should even know he was here, except that worthless excuse for a pira…
He froze.
It couldn’t be, could it? That man was just a thug, a patsy that—
He felt a tingle at the back of his neck. Instincts built throughout years in the field made him throw himself down to the floor.
Bang!
Splinters of wood rained down on him as a section of the railing was blown to pieces. At that point, he threw all caution to the wind. Not even bothering to think about what storey he was living on, he leapt up and hurled himself towards what was left of the railing of the balcony.
Merde!He cursed in his mind as he sailed through the air.What kind of pirate captain is this? Blackbeard come back from hell? Who would—
That was when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the face. A face he’d seen only once before. A face he recognized instantly, from when, years ago, he had been sent on a mission to England, and had made sure to gather information on all the people in that country to never, ever cross.
Merde! Pirate Captain my sweet, fabulous arse!
That was his last thought before he plunged down towards the ground.
***
“Blast!” Scowling, I leaned over the remnants of the railing and peered down into the bushes below. There was a depression in the greenery, but nobody in sight. “He’s escaped!”
“Incorrect, Mr Linton,” Mr Ambrose stated. Then he raised his hand and made a gesture. It was answered a moment later by an arm emerging from a window across the street giving a brief signal. Something metallic blinked in the sunlight, then…
Bam!
