I nodded at Andi and we set off after them, taking great care to keep low and ensure we maintained our cover by moving from tree to tree, and using the surrounding foliage to obscure us.
As we drew nearer, I heard indistinct whispers, footsteps, clothes brushing against branches and leaves, and heavy breathing. They weren’t being anywhere near as careful as us, which was good because the noise they made gave us more cover.
The flashlights went off and I stopped, raising my right fist to Andi to signal a halt. We froze and I glanced over at her as the usual sounds of the night filled my ears. The breeze through the trees, rustling leaves, the hoot of an owl, the high squeak of a rodent somewhere in the distance. Satisfied we weren’t the reason for the flashlights going dark, I crept on and Andi followed. Soon we came to the edge of the wood. Beyond the trees was a paddock where three horses grazed lazily in the silver moonlight. To our right was a large stable block, and directly ahead a substantial Georgian farmhouse, which was surrounded by more stables and outbuildings.
I crouched under a low-branching tree and surveyed the stud farm.
“Horse thieves,” Andi whispered. “They would normally take the grazers unless they’re after a particular horse.”
Her theory was sound, and I nodded.
“We should check the stables,” she suggested.
I nodded again. We rose and started toward the stable block, but after a few paces we were frozen in place by the sound of a terrible scream piercing the night.
Chapter 26
The shriek had come from the farmhouse. Andi and I immediately ran toward the building. The grand old home stood three stories high, its long sash windows offering glimpses into a comfortable family room and a formal dining room as we moved from the lawn to the terrace and skirted around the house. I saw shadows moving through the dining-room door, and light spilling from the doorway opposite.
I nodded at Andi and we kept moving around the house. We skirted the north-east corner, hugging the wall, and saw golden light through a picture window. A ceramic teapot and a basil plant on the sill told me this was a kitchen. Beside the window, the back door stood ajar, light slicing through the gap between it and the frame.
I sensed movement on the other side and slowed even more, so my steps were almost painfully deliberate. I glanced round and saw Andi doing likewise, advancing silently across the terrace slabs until she was to the right of the doorway and I was on the left.
There was a grid of glazed panes set into the door, and I peered through one to see a masked man stalking through the kitchen. He glanced around the room before peering through the interior doorway and then looking straight toward the back door.
I knew the kitchen lights would make me difficult to spot, and that night would turn the windows into mirrors, but still I ducked back, unwilling to take any unnecessary risks. I looked at Andi, pointed into the kitchen and held up one finger. I could see only one man, but I knew the others were somewhere in the house. Their muffled voices were audible, though their words were indistinct.
I held up my hand and pointed at my chest before indicating the doorway. Andi nodded, clearly understanding my intention to enter the building.
I peered inside again and saw the masked man had turned away from the back door and was looking into the interior of the house. I took a deep breath and eased the door a little wider. I almost cursed when the hinges creaked. My heart, which had already been pulsing adrenalin to my extremities, went into overdrive as the masked man turned to face me, his wide eyes making his shock palpable.
I took advantage of his surprise to rush him. He cried out as I body-slammed him against a large, American-style double fridge. He tried to reach into his jacket, and I guessed he was going for a gun, so I punched him in the gut, and as he buckled, forced his head down into my knee.
The blow knocked him out. I caught him and eased his fall to minimize noise.
“Let him go,” a man’s voice said, and I turned to see one of the other masked invaders standing in the inner doorway. He aimed a pistol at me.
I raised my hands and stepped forward, edging closer to my captor.
“Who are you?” he asked.
I was saved from having to answer by the sound of the back door slamming against the wall. The masked gunman instinctively pointed the pistol at the open doorway, and I exploited his mistake and launched myself at him as he tried to swing the weapon in my direction. But I was already inside his reach and blocked his gun hand before driving my right fist into his cheek. He staggered back, clutching his face, and caught me with a lucky blow to my head. The weight of the gun connecting with my temple made stars fill my vision. I couldn’t see clearly, but I felt the gunman punch me in the stomach and then hit my head with the gun again.
This time I went down, but I tried to focus. I needed to find my reserves of strength, but my head was swimming and my limbs were weak and unresponsive. I was in grave danger and had a vague sense of a shadow sweeping toward me. I was pretty sure it was the gun.
A loud crack startled me, and the sickening sound was followed by a grunt. The shadow in front of me fell away to one side. As my senses returned, I realized the masked gunman had collapsed at my feet and that it was Andi standing behind his prone body, holding a heavy black frying pan.
Chapter 27
“Thanks,” I whispered.
She nodded, placed the pan carefully on the kitchen counter, and stepped nearer.
“You okay?” she asked quietly.
I touched my temple gingerly, and the spinning world came into sharper focus as the feeling I might black out receded.
“I’ll be fine,” I told her. “Let’s go.”
I heard voices coming from somewhere in the house, muffled and unclear words being spoken by two men, their deep voices with the distinctive Dublin accent, tone hostile.
“Take the gun,” I whispered.
Andi leaned down and grabbed the pistol from the man she’d knocked out. Meanwhile I searched the jacket of the guy I’d incapacitated. He’d been reaching for a telescopic metal baton, the kind riot police use for crowd control.
I took it and flicked it to full extension. It locked with a satisfying click. I lifted the masks off both the unconscious men and saw faces I didn’t recognize. Joe McGee was still somewhere inside the house.
I moved through the kitchen doorway into a large entrance hall. To my left was the formal dining room I’d seen from outside, and to my right a double-door front entrance. Ahead lay a sitting room, furnished with sagging but comfortable-looking old sofas and chairs and fine mahogany heirloom pieces.
Andi drew alongside me and pointed upstairs. I nodded. The men’s voices were clearer now, and I could also hear a child sobbing and a woman muttering soothing words.
I moved to the stairs and started up them. When I glanced over my shoulder, I saw Andi behind me, gun raised in the ready stance. Her face was stern, her eyes hard, her whole demeanor at odds with the easy banter of earlier. I could see why Emily had hired her. I felt confident I had someone capable as my back-up.
We paused on the wraparound landing to listen to what was clearly a confrontation.
“Don’t you dare hurt them,” I heard a man say.
“Then give us what we want,” a second man replied.
The voices were coming from a doorway across the landing.
“Do it,” the second man said.
I heard a thud and then a child screamed.
“Mummy!” a boy cried. “Leave her alone.”
“Stop!” the first man yelled. “Leave them be or I’ll kill you all.”
There was another blow, and then more screaming and pleading from a woman and children.