[Brag]

Chapter 24

Bond got into the passenger side of the Ford Escort. As the driver turned the car around, Val noticed the side-view mirror was missing.
Curious. Bond didn't wear evening clothes. With all the guests, It would have been easy for Val not to have seen him. But this confirmed Bond hadn't been at the party. And what had he been doing at the airport?
After the Escort drove off, Val waited, wondering on the meaning of Bond's hunting rifle.
The tux was scant protection from the night air. Val began to shiver. The answer to his earlier question was pure and simple. Bond came to the cottage to pick up the rifle. My dear Leonora, I hope Burton won't be staying long.
The shivers had become serious when the door opened and Burton strode out. He got into the Bentley and drove toward where Val presumed the main house to be. As soon as the taillights vanished. Val, filled with anger at being duped, moved toward the cottage. He removed the Sig from its shoulder holster and tried the door. It was locked.
Val knocked.
A bolt slid back, Leonora opened the door. "Crissie what--"
"Gutt iffnincks." Val pushed the door open and swept a small sitting room with his pistol.
Her eyes bulging, Leonora stepped back.
Val kicked the door closed.
"I came to let you know I won't be coming in the morning."
Leonora stared at the gun.
"Any more rifles in the house? I feel at a disadvantage with only a pistol."
She shook her head.
"My dear lady, you're mixed up with the wrong people. How much did Burton pay you to give me a blow-job?"
Leonora backed two steps and dropped on a stuffed chair.
"You won't look pretty with a bullet between your eyes." Val hoped he sounded convincing. But he doubted it. The shivers caused by the cold made his gun tremble.
"Don't be a fool. You know I wanted you."
"Maybe you get your kicks by blowing men about to die."
"You're vulgar."
Now what does the great Val Orloff do, shoot the redhead? Thinking how to coerce the woman into confessing, Val replaced the pistol in its holster and took a seat.
The expression of fear on her face vanished. She shifted in her chair and crossed her legs. A slit on her long dress revealed a lot of leg. "You do make a dramatic entry, and look sexy even pointing a gun."
"Lady, don't try the sex thing on me. It won't work."
"Ah, Mister Tough Guy. Do you want to dominate me? Do you want me on my knees? Do you want to simulate rape? Tie me up?"
Val felt himself grow hard.
She stood slowly and turned her back to him. "Unzip me please. All you need to convince yourself I want you, is feel between my legs."
Val rose and pulled the zipper down, exposing the crack of naked bottom. "I'll tell Burton, you warned me about Tony planning to shoot me. And let him take care of you."
Val took two steps back.
Leonora twirled to face him. "You . . ." Fear had returned to her face.
"I'm going to see him right now." Val side stepped toward the door, his hand reaching the knob. "Pleasant dreams, my dear."
"No, please--wait."
Val let his arm drop. "Are you willing to negotiate for my discretion?"
She nodded.
"That's better."
Even as frightened as she looked, the woman still oozed sexuality. All Val had to do was tug at her unzipped dress to expose her breasts.
"Do you have a brandy?"
She nodded, and went to a sideboard.
Val placed his hand on the pistol but in case she tried something funny.
Leonora returned with two glasses, handed one to Val. "I didn't want to do it. I don't mean what I did with you . . . you taste good." She smiled briefly. "But I knew they were planning something. What, I don't know. This is Tony's cottage, I thought he was going shooting pheasant with Chrissie."
"With a big game rifle?"
"Men do strange things, I don't know guns. They want you here in the morning. That is all I know." She gulped down half of her brandy.
"And what scares you so much about Burton?"
"He's powerful, a big man at MI-6."
"And Bond?"
"Tony travels all over the world, does jobs for Chrissie."
Val had trouble believing what he heard. Having British Intelligence against him had never entered his mind. And like a fool he was in their home turf.

#

Even if he managed to find and ambush the snipers, having a shootout with MI-6 was not an option.
Satisfied that Leonora would not reveal his visit to her accomplices, Val drove the Jaguar and left it on a cow pasture approximately five miles due east of Sir Regies estate. It would take Burton and his men some time to find. Partially familiar with the area from the ride he had taken with Claudia, he studied the sky to be able to maintain his direction. It wouldn't be easy. Black holes told him clouds were moving in.
To keep from freezing to death, he ran with an easy jog and was glad he had only brought regular street shoes. Running through the fields in pumps would have been hell.
After twenty minutes, he felt warm enough and slowed to a walk.
A cow path along a hedge still showed under a darkening sky. He thought he recognized the gate where he had met Burton the other morning.
The woods on the hill protected him from the drizzle but he lost the path in the darkness. After several stumbles, he came out of the woods and followed a hedge and found a gate. The bleating of sheep confirmed he wasn't lost. Now he knew how to get back to Sir Bertie's mansion. No longer worried about finding the manor, his mind cleared and he knew how to avoid the snipers. The Brits where a thorough lot who wouldn't let things to chance. He was sure if this was an MI-6 operation there would be more than one sniper. As he trotted across the field with the sheep, it occurred to him that MI-6 and the CIA, in recent years, were as thick as fleas on a fox. He slowed down wanting to drop to the ground with despair.
Ahead, lights reflected on the drizzle and he could hear music. Approaching the manor, Val moved quietly along the stable walls.
No longer a beacon, lights in the manor, gardens became hindrances to unobserved approach. The back lawn was flood-lit. He was a mud-splattered mess, ambling in and mixing with guests was bound to draw attention.
He circled the house and worked his way down the gravel parking lot.
A number of voices approached.
Val hid behind a Rolls Royce. Several people crunched past the Roller. The darkness beyond the parking lot seemed ominous. Tony Bond and his rifle could be there waiting. Or more likely the watcher who would notify Bond Val had left the house for his tryst with the irresistible Leonora. It was five past four, time for the actors to take their places.
Car doors slammed. An engine started. Gravel popped and faded into a ripple.
Val continued toward the service entrance taking advantage of every shadow he could find. Twenty yards from the house, he straightened and walked as if he belonged.
A dozing waiter sitting on a bench under a row of pegs with waiters' jackets in the hallway, opened his eyes and looked up as Val passed him.
With his car gone and him not in his room, the ambushers would presume he had left the manor. Val took the service stairs. On the third floor he went to Claudia's room. A light showed under the door. He knocked softly.
There was no answer.
A harder rap still didn't elicit a response.
He tried the door handle. The door was locked.
"Who is it?"
"It's Val."
A moment later, a key turned and the door opened. With squinting eyes and a hand over her mouth, Claudia peered out the partially opened doorway. "Hmm?" She muttered over a yawn. Her eyes opened wide and she stepped back, holding a silk robe closed with her hand. "What happened to you?"
"Long story, went for a walk."
She closed the door and turned away from Val to tie the robe belt. "What time is it?"
"Four twenty."
"What do you need?"
Val glanced at the bed with its covers thrown back. "It is best I don't go to my room and your husband's killer think I left the house."
After rubbing her eyes and pulling her hair back, she looked around. "You can't stay here."
"Go back to bed, I'll take the chair."
"This is crazy." Claudia covered a yawn with her hand.
"I need a place to hide. I won't bother you, I promise."
She looked at the chair then at Val and shook her head. "The maid brings tea at seven. Can you imagine the gossip she will start?"
"I'll hide in the closet."
"Ay Madonna, like in a bedroom farce?"
Val opened the closet door. "See, I can fit easily."
"I'm too tired to think. This is crazy." Claudia climbed into the bed and pulled the blankets over her.
Val dropped on the chair, undid his tie and opened his wet shirt collar.

#

Full realization of how cold he was came with the rap at the door. Val glanced at his watch, 7:04. He lurched into the closet.
Through the closet door he listened to Claudia exchange good mornings with the maid and thank her.
"You may come out," Caludia said.
Val came out wearing a mink stole over his shoulders.
Claudia shook her head. "I was too sleepy to think when you came. You may share my tea. Milk and sugar a la inglesa?"
"Please."
She handed him a cup. "You look a mess."
"No improvement?"
"No, now you look like you've been out all night. Please explain yourself."
"I think someone wants to shoot me."
"Coming here at four in the morning. You deserve to be shot."
"When we wheel the count's body into the ambulance, I'll wear a white jacket so it will look like I am an ambulance attendant."
"And if you don't go to your room, how do we get your luggage?"
"You can get my laptop. I'll write to Sir Reggie later about shipping my stuff."
Claudia took the cup away from Val and took a sip. "So I go to your room and they kill me by mistake."
"They won't kill anyone else in this house. Two people dying would draw the police."
"You are so practical. How am I going to get dressed with you in the room?"
"I'll turn my back."
While Claudia got dressed, Val faced the window and studied the fields surrounding the manor. Of course the window faced in the wrong direction. If a sniper was waiting to plug him, chances were he would be somewhere in the northwest corner from where he could cover the service entrance and main entrances. It gave him little consolation to note that a shot from this sector was highly unlikely.
"Do you have the key to your room?" Claudia asked.
Val dug into his pocket as he turned. Claudia wore a beige skirt and a knit jacket with flower-like patterns. He handed her the key and she left the room.
After three minutes Val asked himself, What's delaying her?
It should take no more than thirty seconds to reach his room, maybe five-ten seconds to open the door, five seconds to grab the laptop on the secretaire--she should have been back.
Floorboards creaked. Someone went past the room.
Four minutes.
When five minutes went by, Val took the pistol out of the holster, cracked the door open, and stuck his head into the corridor.
Someone was coming.
Val pulled the door shut.
The footsteps receded.
Six minutes. His hand holding the pistol in his jacket pocket, Val stepped into the corridor. He moved swiftly past portraits of overweight gentlemen with bulbous red noses. Boards creaked. He stopped at the corner, pulled the pistol out, and peered into the connecting corridor.
In the dim light, someone carried an object over its shoulder.
Val recognized Claudia's walk.
Back in the room, Claudia said. "It's gone."
Val's gut contracted. "The laptop?"
"No, I went to get corn to feed the chickens. I looked everywhere." She handed Val a hanger with his hound's tooth jacket, a pair of slacks and a shirt. "You'd better change into something presentable."
"The laptop is gone?"
Claudia placed her hands on her hips. "You ask one more stupid question, and my confidence in you goes to zero."
Val wondered how in the hell he would contact Boikin.
"I imagine you have your work backed up somewhere. Don't look so victim of disaster. I'll buy you another one."
Val nodded. At least if someone tried to open the secret files without the password, a virus supplied by Stuart would activate and wipe everything clean. Val forced a smile. "Thanks, you are very kind. I can get another one."
"Oh, yes. This was on top of your bed." She handed Val a white envelope. "You can change while I go to breakfast."
Val grasped her arm as she turned to leave. "It could be dangerous."
"Breakfast dangerous?"
"Well, ah . . . something could happen. I worry."
She shook her head. "You said, two killings in this house would rouse suspicions. Also two people missing at breakfast will alert the, what would you call it, opposition?"
"Okay, you win."
When Claudia left the room, Val inspected the envelope addressed to him in precise manly handwriting, flap sealed with transparent tape. Val used a metal nail-file he found on the dresser to open it.
Dear Val,
This is your last chance to accept the offer to manage the Argentinean estate, a great opportunity to work with Olympic class horses. Bonuses and profit sharing are included in a generous compensation package. Don't let this last proposal pass you by. I'll be at Christopher Burton's place until noon.
Peter.
Val frowned. They were still trying to get him into Burton's place. It bothered to think Carr was seriously mixed up in what Val was beginning to see as a vast conspiracy. Maybe Carr's offer was a bona fide deal. A polite offer to get him out of the way. Go to Argentina and don't cause problems.
The job had its appeal. It would certainly end the nightmare he'd been living lately. Val took a deep breath and began changing clothes. Finished buttoning the fresh shirt, Val strapped on the shoulder holster. He then re-read the letter, crumpled it in his fist. "**** you," he said aloud.
When Claudia returned, she handed Val a cup filled with scrambled eggs. From her jacket pocket she produced two slices of toast.

#

Claudia went out of D'Albano's room when the ambulance attendants arrived. Val watched their cold efficiency in placing the count into a white PVC body bag and strapping it to a stretcher.
He followed the attendants down the stairs. Next to the kitchen door, he removed a waiter's white jacket hanging in a row of pegs and put it on.
The attendants looked at him in surprise as he rushed past them and jumped inside the ambulance.
"Doctor Watson," Val said as he pulled the stretcher inside.
Claudia climbed up front with the driver. "Take us to Wellensbourne Mountford Airport."
"Is that where you have your airplane?" Val asked.
She turned around looking at him as if he was the village idiot. "No, we are going to play cricket there."
Val pursed his lips before he started clucking. Next stop was the airfield surrounded by woods. Val thought of the near collision with Bond's car. That's where they were going to get him.

Chapter 25

The ambulance turned into the airport road. Approaching the sharp bend, Val spotted the skid marks he had left. The broken-off mirror of the Ford escort lay in the middle of the pavement. Anger grabbed him at the memory of the reckless driver.
Low clouds scudded over the airfield. The gate was open and Claudia directed the driver to the funny looking twin engined airplane.
Val got out and positioned himself so the ambulance covered him from the nearest trees.
A young man in a navy blue suit who had been waiting took the head of the litter and squeezed it through the narrow airplane door. The sleek bullet-like airplane had the semblance of something out of a science fiction film with winglets sprouting off its nose.
As the ambulance pulled away, Val followed Claudia inside.
The count's body lay strapped to a gray sofa. Claudia moved forward and stopped by the cockpit door. She motioned Val to sit in a chair that would have made a first class section in an airliner proud.
After closing the door, the young pilot spoke briefly to Claudia in Italian
"Ever fly in an Italian airplane before?" Claudia asked Val.
"No."
"We will cruise at four hundred knots, as fast as most jets. Our flight time to Grosseto will be three hours and ten minutes."
"That's amazing for a propeller plane."
"Turboprop." Claudia smiled. "We have a passion for speed. The fastest cars, ships, airplanes. This is a P-180 Piaggio Avanti, with it I can go into airfields a jet cannot. After takeoff you may come up front." She went into the cockpit leaving the door open, and sat on the left-hand seat. The copilot read off a checklist. Claudia answered and flipped switches.
The Initial whine of engines softened to a hum. As the plane taxied, Val's attention was on the woods on the other side of the fence and paralleling road. A rifle bullet could easily penetrate an airplane's skin. A question entered Val's head. How did Tony Bond know he would be leaving with Claudia?
"Have your seat belt fastened?" Claudia yelled from the cockpit.
The whine increased as they approached the end of the taxiway next to the sharp turn on the road.
The answer to the question hit Val like a slap in the face.
What was the Ford Escort doing at the airport at that time of the night?Bond and his cohorts wouldn't have guessed he'd be on the plane. Hell, they've been monkeying with the plane to get Claudia!
"Hey," Val yelled trying to get up. The seat belt held him fast. Engine noise grew.
"Stop!"
Val realized, with headphones on, Claudia couldn't hear him.
He undid his seat belt and was thrown against the window as the airplane turned onto the runway and accelerated.
Grabbing the cockpit doorsill, he pulled himself forward. The only way to stop the airplane in time was to pull the throttles back.
He reached forward, stretching his fingers.
The copilot gave him a sharp karate chop on the arm.
The nose rotated sharply and Val slid back into the cabin. He hit his head against an armrest as the airplane yawed. Val shook his head and stood, propping himself against a chair.
In the cockpit a bank of red lights glowed. The copilot had a check list in hand. Claudia pushed a button that lit red. A glance through the window, told Val the left prop was winding down.
He stuck his head into the cockpit and yelled, "Sabotage."
Claudia gave him a quick glance. Her attention returned to the instruments as the right engine surged and began to die.
Looking over Claudia's shoulder, Val could see furrows of a plowed field racing by. Forward visibility was restricted by cloud. "We must turn back."
Claudia flipped a switch.
A calm, British accented voice came over a cockpit loudspeaker. "Charlie Mike are you declaring an emergency?"
Claudia's voice answered, "Request radar vector to nearest ILS. Have one engine feathered, other loosing power." She then pulled her headset back, baring an ear. "What are you saying?"
"Sabotage."
"Switch to auxiliary tank." She then said to Val, "Take your seat, we're about to crash-land."
The airplane dropped out of cloud. Ahead, a fuzzy line of trees rushed toward them.
"Charlie Alfa, we have lost radar contact, turn left to one two zero for Cranfield Airport runway two-two."
Claudia pulled the yoke. The view ahead disappeared.
The right engine vibrated, surged and coughed.
Solid mist changed to a ragged ceiling as the airplane mushed toward the ground. Cattle scampered over a green field.
"Vola, vola." Claudia struggled with the controls.
It was evident there was little she could do. The airplane yawed to the left, heading for the square stone tower of a Norman church. The whine of the right engine increased as it stopped coughing. Claudia banked to the right. The plane shuddered and a whoop-whoop alarm sounded. The left wing barely missed the church.
Cloud vapor hid forward visibility.
Claudia brushed a strand of hair from her brow, then patted the glare shield. "Bene, bene, bona machina. I think we have contaminated fuel."
"Charlie Alpha, squawk two-two three-five."
Claudia turned to Val and pointed at the altimeter. "We are now at six hundred feet, two hundred feet above the ground--and climbing."
"Charlie Alpha, radar contact, turn to heading one-two five. Climb to and maintain two thousand five hundred. Radar vector to Cranfield outer marker. Weather at Cranfield eight octas two hundred feet, visibility five hundred meters, light rain. Contact Cranfield approach on one twenty-nine seven. Good day, sir."
"Climb. He must be joking," Claudia said.
The copilot said. "Cranfield Approach, Piaggio India Echo Charlie Alpha, Good morning."
"Charlie Alpha, Cranfield approach. you're number one for landing. Understand you're unable to climb to minimum safe altitude?"
"We have only one engine--developing sixty percent power."
"Roger, be aware of radio towers north west of the Charlie Foxtrot beacon. We have emergency equipment standing by."
Although they were still flying, Val realized they were far from out of trouble. Breaks in the clouds showed they were still dangerously close to the ground.
The copilot lit a cigarette.
"May I have one?" Val asked
"Piacere." The copilot extended a hand with a pack of cigarettes over his shoulder.
"I didn't know you smoked cigarettes," Claudia said.
"Only when scared out of my wits."
"Remember to put it out if we have to crash-land."
"How much longer?"
"Vito hasn't had time to look at the chart, and I'm too busy keeping Petronella in the air."
"Petronella?"
"The name of this wonderful machine."
"Ten minutes," Vito said.
Val glanced at his watch, then outside. They were enveloped in milky gray. If they crashed into something, they'd never know what they'd hit.
Pretending he was in an airliner at thirty thousand feet, Val sat in the plush seat and got his breathing under control while leafing through an Italian fashion magazine.
He leafed back when he realized he had seen something familiar. It would have been easy to miss the group photo of Claudia flanked by two thin women who looked like models. The article was titled Bravo Moda Unbeldi.
"Toot-toot-toot-toot." Val's heart almost stopped at the sound. He jumped and stuck his head into the cockpit.
"We're much below glide path but on course," Claudia said. "You can help by looking outside and tell us when you see the runway or runway lights."
Val peered at dirty milk beyond a windshield streaked with water droplets.
"Glide slope is alive," Vito said.
"Stand by for gear, we will not use flaps or reverse."
"Treshhold lights in sight," Vito said.
A row of white dots stood out brighter than the surrounding cloud.
"Coming up on glide slope."
"Gear down." Claudia pulled back the throttle lever.
Two rows of yellow lights appeared as a runway materialized, with a fire engine and ambulance standing on the edge.
Claudia pulled the throttle all the way back. The airplane settled and wheels chirped.
Val returned to his seat knowing their problems were just beginning.