CHAPTER 4

They walked side-by-side back towards the entrance to the big house, and Rachel was about to tell John what was happening back at the VCTF, when a strange noise had them both stopping and listening intently.

"Did you hear that?" asked John, glancing around. Rachel looked behind also, but neither of them could see anything. With a shrug of his shoulders John went to walk on, when they heard the noise again. This time something hit him in the ankle, and cursing, he bent down to rub it, and found himself eye to eye with the missing cameraman Phil, who was lying under one of the caravans.

"Just pretend to do up your shoe or something, and don't look across at me," he hissed, as loudly as he could. "I've been chased all over the bloody estate since the early hours of this morning!"

John knelt down on one knee, and pretended to play with his shoe, looking up at Rachel, but asking Phil as quietly as he could what had happened.

"Bloody security caught me going through Novak's office. Their head honcho, a charming man called Hardinger was called in to question me. – He will be on his way to question you too, since you came with me."

"No one's spoken to me," said John, standing and brushing at his trousers. "But I've been under their gazes all morning, like a well trained robot!" he had to add bitterly.

"Did you get anything?" asked Rachel, her back to the van.

"Heaps," came the whispered reply. "Enough to nail the guy. But the guards he employs are not nice. They worked me over some. We have to get out of here, and now."

Rachel dug her elbow into John's side, as a security guard walked around from behind the row of caravan's, glaring at them suspiciously. Without hesitation, John who was still down on one knee, put one hand up towards Rachel, and asked in a very loud voice if she would consider marrying him.

Pretending she hadn't seen the security guard, she put her hand over her mouth, and fluttered her eyelashes in maidenly confusion.

"Oh J-Dale," she replied, in a breathy voice. "How I've longed for this moment." And she put her hand in his, pulling him to his feet, so they could embrace.

"Have you got your gun in your handbag?" John whispered in her ear, and she nodded, breaking away from him when she 'noticed' the other man approaching.

"Excuse me, we are having a private moment here," she said, turning to face the guard.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said looking her up and down. "Are you Dale Scott?" he said, turning to John, who was standing behind Rachel, one arm around her waist. "The boss would like to have a quick word with you, before the contracts are signed."

"Oh yeah?" replied John. "About what?"

"I don't know," replied the man in a surly manner. "Just a courtesy, you've been on his property for a few days, and he would like to meet you personally I suppose."

John nodded as if he could understand the reason, walked a few steps towards the mansion; and then turned back.

"I've just got to get something from my van first," he said.

"But Mr. Novak's expecting you now," said the guard, taking a sideways step, and blocking John's path.

John smiled slowly. "Well, I'll only be a minute," he said. "If you are worried about letting me out of your sight, you come too."

"Well hurry up then," growled the guard, stepping aside, and following John back towards his caravan.

"You stay here darling, I'll be back in a sec." John said loudly to Rachel, and bent forward to kiss her, whispering in her ear "Get Phil and come into the van in a minute."

He walked back down the row of caravans, to the one that he and Phil were using, and opened the door, stepping up into it, and disappeared from sight. The guard stood outside for a moment cursing, and then followed John inside.

"Come on," he said in an irritated voice, as he walked inside, "I haven't got all day. Mr. Novak is expecting you now."

As his eyes adjusted to the different light, he frowned when he saw John rummaging through his backpack.

"Come on," he repeated. "This isn't important," walking up close behind John, and in an obvious attempt to intimidate him began fingering his gun.

"Oh I think it is," said John, who didn't mind intimidating people himself upon occasion. He swung around, and placed his identification badge on the small table next to the guard.

"I think you can give me that gun, and sit down for a moment," said John pleasantly, enjoying the thunderstruck expression on the face of the security guard.

"What's this?" the guard said. "That's got to be fake!" indicating John's badge. He pulled his gun out, and pointed it at John, who raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Hardinger warned me about you. You are coming with me, and you will tell Hardinger everything he wants to know, pretty boy, even where your friend has got to."

"I don't think so," said John, not in the least worried by the guard's threats. "This is not fake – and my friend is … here."

Rachel opened the door to the caravan, and walked in, followed by Phil. The guard swung around, but was not quick enough to stop John from grabbing his gun, and ripping it out of his hands. He snarled angrily, as John wrested control away from him, and indicated that he should sit down at the tiny table.

"We are FBI," said Rachel, to the angry guard. "Your boss is running a drug ring. You can either help us or not, but whatever the outcome, your boss is going down."

The guard glared at them defiantly, and in disbelief. Phil went to the end of the caravan where he had been sleeping, and began throwing things in his suitcase, particularly his cameras and equipment.

"Rachel, it might be time to ring Bailey, and call in the cavalry," said John, his eyes never straying from the guard's. "We don't know how many people are going to try and stop us leaving."

"You won't get out of here," sneered their prisoner. "Place is swarming with security and cameras. Mr. Hardinger has already issued orders that you are to be taken to see him. When I don't show in about a minute, they will send others."

"Well they must pay well, to have such a degree of loyalty," said John, conversationally. "Aren't you a little disturbed to be on the wrong side of the law?"

The guard sneered again. "You guys will go down for impersonating law officers. We were warned that a group might be trying to break into the mansion, and use the shoot to take photos to case the place to use later. Mr. Hardinger will have called the local police already, you won't get away."

"Good, I'd like to talk to the local police," said Rachel disconnecting her cell and watching Phil throw his things into his case. "John, are you packed too? I'll stay here and chat with... what's your name?"

The guard snorted at her in distain, and muttered something about overbearing women. John raised an eyebrow and grinned at Rachel. "Well, that should put you in your place," he murmured, and she shot him an exasperated glance in return.

"Guys," said Phil, looking out of the window nearest to his end of the van. "There are two more security guys coming this way."

John peered out, and picking up his id badge, shoving it into a back pocket.

"I'll go distract them," he said. "You guys get to the gate, and wait for Bailey and back-up. Keep Happy Jack here quiet."

"No…" began Rachel, but with a quick wink he opened the door, and walked down the single step, closing the door behind him.

They heard a shout, and watched out of the small windows as one of the guards spotted John, who glanced back innocently, and kept walking. The guards sprinted up to him, and even from inside the caravan, they could hear him tell the guards that he was late for an important meeting.

He then set off again, in the direction of the mansion, totally ignoring the two guards who after a hurried consultation, scurried after him, bypassing the caravan, where Phil had a gun trained on the guard, who was glaring at him in anger.

"You'll get caught," their guard hissed at them, "You won't get away with treating me like this."

Rachel turned to look at him in a speculative manner.

"What size are you Phil?" she asked, and the other FBI agent looked at her for a moment, in puzzlement; then as comprehension dawned, looked back at the guard and grinned.

"About his size," he said, "And I can make it fit, even if it's too big. You, get your shirt off and hurry up."