=== Near the abandoned Farmhouse ===
Chance Boudreaux heard the single shot. Hastily, he took the gun from the dead Luis in surplus to his own and was at the door the very next moment. Still covered by the nightly shadow inside, he saw his personal nightmarish déjà-vu. A chopper, hovering some meters above the ground, and in the open hatch Van Cleaf. In his hands the weapon, which just had killed Harrington. He had a smile on his face! A god-damned, ice-cold smile!
It was exactly this facial expression, which pushed Boudreaux over the barriers of reason. This man had killed all the others - now HE would draw the line! He had forgotten everything else, his own doubts, the nasty kidnapping, the frightened woman inside the house. There was only Boudreaux and Van Cleaf, and a bill open for 15 years now! He brought his rifle in position and fired.
…
The bullet smashed against the helicopter, missing me only because I had moved in exactly that moment. The pilot cursed violently, tried to get the chopper up as quickly as possible. Luckily, he did not panic and thus endangered us both! I attempted to spot my opponent and fire on him. I saw someone moving next to the door, but failed to lock on. Shit! The weapons I had at my disposal this night were simply the wrong ones!
"Get me down over there!" I shouted in order to drown the noise of the chopper.
The pilot turned. I discovered a man down below, running for cover. But no, I would not shoot right now. I had not enough ammo for blind-firing. I needed the target in focus!
Real shit! Everything at stake, and I have not the right equipment!
How many of Harrington's bunch were still alive? If he had not lied to me in the first place, it could only be two, perhaps three. But then, more shots would've answered my kill of Harrington… Two, then, supposedly. And my old friend Boudreaux among them!
The helicopter landed near the cliff, which cut the plain the old house stood in into half. It was a wild, rough area – perfect to let some unpleasant evidence vanish. But for these musings, it was too early! I turned to the pilot. Even in the artificial lights of the chopper, I could see he was really pale. I handed him over the prepared check.
"500.000 Dollar, as arranged."
He grabbed it nervously – probably thinking I would kill him if he did – and only then managed an uneasy "Thank you… Sir."
"I have not to mention, you have not seen or heard anything this night. Especially you have not seen ME, right?"
"Of course, Sir." He stuffed the check into his jacket's pocket.
I left the chopper, my 'Desert Eagle' ready to fire, if necessary, and took cover behind an overgrown hedge. In doing this, I realized that not only my weapons collection was inadequate for the task, but the state of my leg, too.
So what, looks as if you're getting too old for this kind of business, eh?I mocked myself, while the helicopter flew out of range. Whatever – it was not up to me to make a choice! I had to hold on; I had to succeed! Forcing all superfluous thoughts at the margin of my conscience, I sneaked forward to the house again. Somewhere in between the half crumbled remains, the unkempt ex-garden and the rocks the enemy was closing in on me…
A shot! Smashing through the dried branches of the hedge. I dove down on the ground. Between the sheets of the half-rotten fence and the wall of the house I could now discern a man. Boudreaux ! The patterns of his movements had been imprinted in my memory very well. I could not clearly see his face because of the darkness and the branches. But there was no need for it; I was sure. Another shot! Dammit, he had a flashlight! I rolled over, behind the remains of the fence and fired. Of course I missed – with this kind of weapon under these lighting conditions it was a pure game of hazard! Anyway, I was out of his sight, too. The springing-up wind, which let some debris roll over the area, provided me with enough noise-cover for sneaking further. Unfortunately the last bit of natural light was gone, when a cloud wrapped the half moon. And of course I could not hear Boudreaux, either.
Waiting.
Silently, I counted the bullets I had left. 4 in the stolen police gun, 7 in my 'Desert Eagle' and another fresh refill with 9. Was Boudreaux the only one still alive from Harrington's gang? I had not heard him talking to somebody the whole time of our little match; and I had not seen nor heard a second opponent. This could mean he was alone. But it only COULD. Still, another motherfucker could hide inside the house, holding my family hostage!
A thin line of light groped through a slid in the fence. I waited another second, then I broke the worn out wood down with one arm and fired in the direction of the light. Someone moaned. I shot again, tried to move as fast as I could to the next cover. The shots of my enemy followed me all too close, splashing dirt and debris in my back. Wherever I might have grazed him – it was obviously not enough to slow the prey down! I threw the empty police gun away, cowering down behind the next cover. I was closer to the house now, and the moon was free from the cloud. But more clouds were under way, and it started to rain. In some meters' distance, I could discern the body of Harrington.
Ah, yes, next to him his weapon! What a wonderful sight!
I had to get it – it might provide the necessary ammo for my survival. Cautiously, I moved forward, but froze immediately, when I heard my opponent's steps right behind me. Swirling around and firing again, I realized another thing. His flashlight was gone. Seemed I had taken it out…
"Van Cleaf, this time I get you! And I'll shoot your sick brain out of your head!" Boudreaux shouted. "When I have to go to jail again, THIS TIME I'll know why!"
…
Inside the house, Rosa pressed her face against the closed door. Pik! In the very last moment she could restrain from yelling his name. This would only distract him and risk his life! She clenched her hands tightly. All her exhaustion was gone. Her mind and her heart raced. Outside were her beloved husband – and his long-term nightmare of enemy! Pik had told her long ago about the events back in New Orleans then, after which she had encountered him half-dead on the way to Mexico. This horrible day had left visible and invisible scars on both of them…
And now… now it took place all over again? And Rosa was unable to do anything useful. Boudreaux had closed her in. Even if she could get out of a window; she had no weapon. And thus she would in fact only be one thing: a possible deadly distraction. She sank to her knees, hands put against the wooden door. The awful sounds from the fight echoed painful in her ears.
…
No way to get even near Harrington's gun! Boudreaux blocked the way. For now, he did not know exactly behind which piece of rotten junk I was hiding. But I had no chance to cross the open space, pick the gun up and dive into cover again without being wounded at least. I had lost too much precious ammo during the past minutes! The refill-pack was already in place, and one bullet from it gone, too. The rain was getting stronger. Real bad timing for a cloudburst! Shooting with cold, wet fingers around the trigger was one of the worst things imaginable!
I heard something nearby, thought to perceive a movement, too. Yes, there he was! I could see his light-colored shirt by now! Very good… I crawled forward. A little more light would be of much help! Boudreaux leaned against the wall of the old stable. Above him the remains of the roof, clattering and squeaking in the wind. I had to get him down, by some means or other! Decidedly, I took aim and fired.
An angry cry; bursting wood; loud cursing. A shot in my direction. I fired again at the source. The pile of wood and rotten straw some meters in front of me moved, parted, and Boudreaux struggled free, shooting again. Fucking shit! I got to my feet as fast as I could, my weapon still ready to fire.
A moment later, we stood face to face, each of us pointing at the opponent's head.
"Very well," Boudreaux said with a short half grin. "Only the two of us left! You and I – again!"
"It's not you and me," I answered. "It is you on the one side, and I and my family on the other. Where are they? Where's my wife?"
"You did the fuck care about families, when you hunted down the people back in New Orleans or ELSEWEHRE! Just a hilarious little hunt, right?"
"We picked singles without family."
"And this makes it totally less evil, or what?"
I could see a desperate rage in his eyes. He finally wanted his revenge – just for revenge's sake! The problem was I was not free from such unprofessional emotions and thoughts, either. "Such a concern from a man, who kidnapped a woman and four little children? I just could cry!"
"This was not planned. Harrington wanted you and no one else!"
"Aw… but this little change of plans did not make you quit his service, Boudreaux, right?" No answer, only a dark scowl. I continued: "If this would only be about me, this would've been over by now! I don't particularly like making smalltalk to you. But I have five kids, and they shouldn't grow up as orphans."
"Ahh, that's it! You beg for your life? Never thought to hear that one day, Van Cleaf!"
"I don't beg." I had him still in focus, and my finger began feeling stiff around the trigger. But he didn't move a bit, too. Two gun barrels, two deadly black holes. Rain smashed in our faces. "I offer you a deal."
"A deal with you?" Boudreaux spit out. "I waited for this opportunity long enough!"
The blood hammered behind my temples. It was all or nothing. Death or life – no other option. "And then? You kill me. Fine! You can congratulate yourself when sitting in jail again, or on the streets begging. I offer you a life. A decent life."
"Go to FUCKING HELL!"
He pulled the trigger, and so did I.
Nothing happened. Both our guns were empty!
"… but not yet!" I whispered with a little smile while lunging against Boudreaux. We rolled over the grass, junks and rocks, clutched, wedged, mobilising our last strength to knock each other out.
…
Rosa kneeled still behind the door, tried to perceive what was happening and yet was afraid to listen. But Boudreaux' last angry yell was the one thing she could not endure. She jumped up, grabbed the leg of an old broken chair and smashed it in the window glass. "Pik?" There was only a terrible silence around.
…
Chance Boudreaux was a bit stronger than me, and his manoeuvrability was better. After one unfortunate blow, I stumbled backwards against the cliff, lost ground on the gravel and slid. Instinctively, I reached out, got hold on some roots and a slippery stone. My feet kicked in empty space.
So, this was it then… Fuck it! … Gotta see Boudreaux grinning in my last moment! I slid further.
I heard Rosa shouting my name. But here was no way holding on. Finally death has caught me in his trap! … Rosa… Have an eye on Gerrit… He's too much like me… I love you… I shut my eyes, loosing the grip on the stone. I am sorry…
When two hands grabbed my arm, my eyes snapped open. I couldn't believe what they showed me, though. Boudreaux. Hanging half over the cliff. Holding me!
"Got you!" he pressed through clenched teeth. "Hold on!"
I tried to get a foothold again, while he attempted to pull me up. It lasted only for a second, then the wet instable earth gave way again. Boudreaux snatched my jacket, but the fabric tore. "Take my hand, man! C'mon!"
He hauled me up again, and finally I could press my right foot into a little cavity. Some horrible seconds later Boudreaux and I kneeled on the plain again, gasping for air. And I had to admit, I still couldn't quite believe what just had happened…
"Why…?" I rasped.
"I'm no… killer."
Before I could say something, I saw Rosa running towards us. She had a gun in her hand; Harrington's I supposed, and just took aim at Boudreaux.
"Don't shoot!" I had the feeling, my last bit of strength went down the drain with these words. "Don't shoot… It's okay…"
A moment later she embraced me, unable to say anything. She simply cried and clutched onto me. And I don't know how long it took until I could speak again. "Where are the children?"
"I got them out… about an hour ago," Rosa answered. "Maartie was very sick. I sent them to the gas station; they should call an emergency ambulance! What about the others? Gerrit and Teresa? Are they okay?"
"They are with Carel, at his vacation home." I stood up; needing a little help from Rosa. However, the time for relaxation was not yet there! "The police are close on my heels; I managed to slip through their net in Puerto Soro only in the last moment! They shouldn't be aware of me being that far in the countryside, but…I don't want to tempt fate more than I already have tonight. I…" My gaze wandered over to Boudreaux, and I corrected: "We need to get out of here very fast!"
"There's a van behind the house, " he said. Exactly feeling as uneasy with this new 'situation' between the two of us, he walked towards the farm again. I followed closely, Rosa in my arm, and wondered, if I had done the same, if Boudreaux had been hanging there on the cliff. But I did not dare to probe down deep into my mind…
=== Next day, Morning / At Carel's vacation home ===
I counted it as a miracle that we all made it undisturbed back to Carel. I must not only have one 'guardian-devil', but a whole little army, I thought wryly. I was glad Rosa could not read my thoughts. I did not want to hurt her and her – sometimes very childish – religious views! Thoughts… They had been seldom that sinister. Despite our rescue, or maybe exactly because of it. I had not wanted to probe down deep into my mind what I would've done in Boudreaux' place. However, the knowledge had pierced my usual shell with recklessness. I would have let him fall. I was sure of it…
My gaze fell on Rosa, who sat at the couch and tried to reach the General Hospital of Puerto Soro. She smiled at me with so much love. How on earth, I wondered for the umpteenth time in our marriage, how on earth could she choose ME?
She put the receiver down for a moment. "They are there! The nurse is on her way to get Maria to the phone! Sam is sleeping…"
"And Maartie?" I barely dared to ask.
"He's okay…" Now Rosa cried despite all her effort not to do it in front of the other children. But she was simply too exhausted. "Holy Mother of God, thank you! He's okay… Our son is okay!"
I put my arms around her and took the receiver from her hands. "Maria? … Yes, it's Dad. How do you feel? … Tired, yes. Soon we are all home and you have time to relax!" Home – wherever this might be, after our yacht is half destroyed… Maria, darling, I'm very proud of you! We all are! Do you hear me? … Don't cry. You saved your little brother's life last night."
She asked when we could pick her and the others up. I looked to Carel questioning, and he nodded. "Maria? Carel will pick you up in a couple of hours! You know Carel, my boss from the software enterprise? … Yes. He will come and fetch you all. … No, I cannot come, Darling. Have a little problem with my leg, you know. I cannot walk very well at the moment." For the first time, I was grateful to have this artificial kneecap. So I had not to lie plainly why I couldn't show up in the town. I glanced to Gerrit, who sat opposite to us, next to Teresa. Someday, it would be time to tell all my children, who their father was…
Four days later, Puerto Soro, police station ===
Detective Agostin browsed through the pictures of the crime scene – an old abandoned farm house, which had been incinerated, obviously to cover some tracks. He had secretly hoped to find a trace of the ominous Van Cleaf again. A man couldn't just vanish, could he? A man was a man and had to leave tracks. He was not a demon! But in looking at the pictures and the results from the forensics, his hopes crushed. Neither of these two charred bodies found inside the ruin was the remains of Pik van Cleaf. All bones of all fingers on all four hands were still clearly visible…
So this man had vanished indeed… eluded the police like he had done during the last 15 years. "Some day…" murmured Agostin and leaned back. "Some day you're making a mistake, smartass, and then, justice will get you!"
=== Two years later / Florida ===
A martial-arts school and fitness centre at Florida Beach was one of the things already born with success. The people here were eager to show they were young, healthy and tanned – and therefore they were ready to invest considerable sums to achieve this. Moreover, the place was situated in a rather expensive area. Sometimes, the beautiful location with Asian flair was chosen for wedding parties as well.
Just as it was the case this evening. The host this time was no other than the owner himself, Chance Boudreaux. The people around here considered his business the fine example of a "self-built-fortune-by-hard-work". A typical American fairy tale! Which at this evening should be crowned by something every fairy tale was decorated with: a marriage to a most beautiful girl…
Chance and his new wife, a half-Japanese teacher from his martial-arts school, stood on the terrace talking to some of the party guests, when one of the waiters stepped to him.
"Mr. Boudreaux, excuse me, there is someone outside who wants to congratulate you."
"Someone I forgot to invite, I suppose?" He laughed. "Well, he or she shall just walk in and have some drinks and a good time!"
"He said he had not much time, but insisted in expressing his best wishes to you in person."
"Okay – shall no one hinder wishing me luck!" Chance embraced his wife, padded on the shoulder of the friend he was just talking to and walked to the gate. Inside, he was feeling colder with every step. It was this uneasiness; something was about to smash into his all-too-perfect personal luck… The past was a mean little thing…
He opened the metal gate of the enclosure and went outside. Some steps ahead waited a black Cadillac Escalade with tinted windows. Boudreaux sensed his bad feelings condense into an ugly lump in his stomach. In the next second, Adrenalin shot through his body, and he mentally prepared for a fight.
One last step. The gravel crunched.
Slowly, the window at the driver's seat lowered. Behind it, the face of a man with neatly trimmed beard and sunglasses appeared. Chance Boudreaux recognized him immediately, even before the familiar voice would have destroyed every doubt.
"Van Cleaf." He couldn't entirely suppress his dark musings.
"I see you have invested my money very good…"
"What do you want?"
"As I let relay…" He smiled. "Congratulate you."
