Outside Chance (46 page)

Furious, Ben grabbed the front of Truman's jacket with one hand and pointed with the other.

‘What are they doing?' he yelled in his face. ‘That's not Nico's van!'

‘And you think I care?' Truman said.

Ben looked past the trainer and away to one side where yet another man, armed with a baseball bat, stood guard over two men, one of whom was sitting on the grass, cradling his left arm. Letting go of Truman, he hurried across.

‘Nico! What happened?'

Nico straightened up from attending to the injured man, who Ben now saw was Gyorgy, but before he could reply the man with the bat cut in.

‘Oi! Stay back!'

Bald, with a pierced ear and eyebrow, he must have been at least six-foot three, and Ben did as he was told.

‘I wait for you and then these come.' Nico was clearly smouldering with suppressed anger. ‘They start hitting at Gyorgy's wagon and, when we try to stop them, they hit Gyorgy. His arm is broken. There is nothing I can do to stop them, then I see Truman and I understand. But he says you told him where to find me . . .'

‘No. That's not true. He saw your picture in the magazine.'

Ben took a step closer, desperate that Nico should believe him, and the big man waved the baseball bat in his direction.

‘Oi, you! Get over here with your friends, where I can see you.'

Ben could see his problem. With Nico on one side and him on the other the guy was outflanked, and the bat obviously wasn't any use as a long-range weapon. To commit to using it against one of them would lay him open to attack from the other.

‘Or what?' he asked, stepping sideways to compromise the man's position further.

Baldy took a step back and appealed to Truman.

‘Boss?'

The trainer had other things on his mind.
Contrary to Ben's order, Helen had got out of the car and was approaching her father, her expression one of complete bewilderment.

‘Dad? Stop them! You can't do this! It's wrong!' she cried, grabbing his sleeve.

Welcome to the real world, Ben thought sourly. A glance reassured him that Mikey, at least, was doing as he was told.

The two wreckers seemed absorbed in their task.

‘Come any closer and I'll bash your fuckin' head in!' Baldy had now apparently realised he was, at least temporarily, on his own.

‘You can only take one of us at a time.' Nico had seen what Ben was doing.

Baldy swung towards him, looking back nervously over his shoulder at Ben.

‘That's right, I'd keep an eye on me if I were you,' Ben said approvingly. ‘I've got a score to settle, for the other night.'

It was a guess, but it appeared to have been a good one; Baldy swung round to face him, slapping the bat into the palm of his free hand.

From behind him, Nico stepped swiftly forward, looking worryingly like David to his Goliath but, like David, he had a hidden arsenal.

As Baldy glanced round, he may have been just in time to see the foot that floored him, but personally, Ben doubted it. After launching the Ninja-style attack, Nico slipped on the frosty ground and almost fell, but within moments he was poised and ready for action once more.

However, as far as Baldy was concerned, action was no longer necessary. He'd relinquished his
hold on the baseball bat and was lying on the ground at Ben's feet, looking decidedly groggy. Ben kicked the bat further away and looked across admiringly at Nico.

‘Any more where that came from?'

‘Plenty,' Nico assured him. He gestured towards the discarded bat. ‘You don't use that?'

‘No, I don't think so. The police are on their way.'

‘Then let's hope they come soon,' Nico said, nodding significantly to something behind Ben. He turned to see that the thug with the mattock, under direction from Truman, had paused in his assault on Gyorgy's wagon and was heading purposefully in their direction.

‘Oh, shit!' Ben said. He had no doubt that the man inside the van would soon be recalled to join the fray.

Shocked and tearful, Helen was pulling at her father's arm, pleading with him to call the men off.

In spite of their past differences, Ben felt a moment's sympathy for her. Everything she thought she knew and could rely on was being turned upside down in the course of a few short hours.

A moment was all he could spare, however. He and Nico had much more pressing matters to attend to. A quick, desperate look towards the gate revealed no comforting, blue flashing lights, and he wondered whether the baseball bat might perhaps have been a good idea after all.

‘Go on, lad. Teach them a lesson,' Truman urged as the man with the mattock passed him. Helen's pleas were interspersed with sobs now, and her
father was holding her firmly by the wrist, away and to one side of him. For the time being, she was clearly no more to him than an inconvenience.

The mattock man was almost as big as his mate had been, and any lack of inches was more than made up for by the ugliness of the weapon he held. Behind him the third man was descending the steps of the wagon, and Ben's heart sank as he saw the wood axe in his hands. Nico's martial arts skills were undoubtedly impressive, but against such as these . . .

He shot a swift look at Nico, finding him tense but not noticeably dismayed.

‘The axe will make him slow,' the Hungarian said, not taking his eyes off the oncoming men.

‘Oh, good!' Ben doubted it would make him nearly slow enough.

‘Which one do you want?' Nico asked.

‘Neither!' Ben said with feeling. Was he kidding? If only Gyorgy were fit and able. Jakob's brother was at least half as heavy again as either of them.

Nico moved up to stand a foot or two to Ben's left, and the man with the mattock waited, about six feet away, for his mate to catch him up.

‘Do you have a plan?' Ben asked, under his breath.

‘I think we should get closer to Truman,' came the response. ‘Go, now!'

On the words Nico pushed Ben away from him and started running so that, within seconds, they had flanked the two advancing men, causing them to turn on their heel to keep their quarry within view.

As Ben turned in, level with Truman, he saw
that the move had thrown the axe-man off balance. Carrying the cumbersome weapon in his right hand and turning to his right, he was in no position to use it.

Nico was quick to take advantage. A trained and super-fit stuntman, he was almost never off-balance and now he stopped, bouncing on his toes to absorb the change of direction and, quick as lightning, attacked the bigger man with a spinning kick that impacted somewhere in the region of his right ear.

It was a testament to the axe-man's strength that he didn't drop in his tracks, but he staggered back, the axe dragging in the grass as he struggled to keep upright, and finally stumbled heavily into the man with the mattock.

Taking the only chance that was likely to be offered, Ben darted forward and jumped at his man, using his forearm and elbow to hit him as hard as he could across the side of his neck and jaw.

It wasn't hard enough.

The mattock man obviously had the strength of an ox, for although Ben's forearm punch drew a grunt from his target, it didn't floor him. With a twisting movement he managed to shake Ben off and send him sprawling on to the frosty turf, where he immediately began rolling to avoid the very real prospect of being disembowelled.

Was Truman mad? Did he really think he could get away with murder?

Something landed heavily on the ground, not six inches from Ben's head, as he stopped rolling. He blinked and brought it into focus.

The axe!

Bloody hell!

He scrambled away and came to his feet in one panic-stricken movement; only then did it register that the weapon had fallen with the blade flat to the turf. It had been dropped, not wielded, and its owner was lying prone on the grass, his eyes peacefully closed, presumably a victim of another of Nico's deadly kicks.

The man Ben had attacked was looking a deal less confident than he had just a few seconds before, but even as he was beginning to believe that – against all the odds – he and Nico might actually come off best from the encounter, the balance of advantage changed once again as Baldy returned to the fray. He loomed out of the darkness, minus the baseball bat and not, it had to be said, looking his best, but six-foot three of muscle is pretty menacing, whatever state it's in, and he had one big ace in the hole: his beefy forearm was locked tightly around Gyorgy's throat. The Hungarian appeared dazed and helpless.

‘Ben!'

Nico shouted and pointed, drawing his attention to the fact that Truman was also on the move. Almost flinging Helen away from him he strode forward, pulling something from his pocket which, a fraction of a second later, extended with a snap into a two-foot long baton.

‘All very heroic!' Truman raised his voice so everyone could hear. ‘But I'm in control now. You . . .' He pointed the baton at Nico. ‘I let you off last time with a flogging but you foreigners just don't learn, do you?'

‘You'll never beat me again!'

In the light from Gyorgy's wagon, Nico's eyes burned with hatred and he took a couple of rapid steps forward.

Truman took an equally quick step back.

‘Decker!' he barked. ‘Break the old man's neck.'

‘No!' Sick with fear for Gyorgy, it was Ben who moved forward this time, but he didn't duck quite fast enough as Truman's baton cracked across his neck and shoulder in a stinging blow.

Helen screamed something but her voice was lost as the Mitsubishi's engine roared into life and it swung round with its headlights on full beam, simultaneously blinding nearly all the players in the drama.

Mikey? It had to be.

The vehicle accelerated and Ben threw up an arm to shield his eyes. He saw Truman glance fearfully behind him and leap aside to avoid being run down, but Mattock Man wasn't quite quick enough and took a glancing blow which bowled him over and sent him rolling away into the gloom.

Mikey braked hard to avoid hitting anyone else and the car's engine stalled, but in the silence that followed Ben heard the eminently welcome sound of police sirens approaching.

Unsurprisingly, the sound provoked an entirely different set of emotions in Truman and his hired muscle, and by the time the blue lights were in view Baldy and Mattock Man had collected their semi-conscious companion and were making good speed towards the saloon car.

Truman stood, irresolutely, looking from the oncoming police car to his Range Rover, and then across to where his daughter stood, still sobbing into her hand.

‘Don't bother, Eddie,' Ben called out. ‘There's nowhere to go.'

Perhaps realising the truth of this, Truman let the baton fall to the ground and walked slowly across to put his arm round his daughter.

Gyorgy, abandoned unceremoniously, was rocking on his feet and Ben saw Nico hurry to his side. In the other direction the saloon car reversed at top speed, spun in a ragged handbrake turn and started off across the field, bottoming out as it hit uneven ground.

Rubbing his sore neck, Ben watched as the first police car turned to pursue it, then saw with relief that another had followed it in, and a third was even now pulling up across the gateway. Logan had come up trumps.

‘Ben? Are you all right?'

Mikey had got out of the car.

‘I'm fine, thanks to you. You were brilliant! I didn't even know you could drive.'

Mikey grinned apologetically.

‘I've been taking lessons. It was going to be a surprise.'

‘Oh, it was,' Ben assured him. ‘One of the best I've ever had!'

Moments later, the first of the police cars pulled up beside them, blue lights flashing but siren off. The doors opened to reveal a petite female officer who efficiently took charge of Truman, and Logan, who came straight over to Ben.

‘All right, mate?'

‘I'll live. Nico's uncle isn't so good.'

‘There's an ambulance on the way; should be here any minute.' He patted Ben cheerfully on his bad shoulder and went to see how Gyorgy was doing.

‘Pity they smashed up the wagon. I could just do with a cuppa,' Ben remarked whimsically; but when Mikey set off to investigate: ‘No, Mikey! There could be gas.'

Feeling less than chipper, Ben leaned against the Mitsubishi and awaited developments, the first of which was the advent of the ambulance and the paramedics.

Much happier now that Gyorgy was being attended to, Ben turned his attention to the area by the gate where Truman's hired help had been apprehended and safely gathered in.

‘What will happen to the Guvnor, now?' Mikey asked, frowning. Ben remembered that, to his brother, the events of the evening must have seemed totally incomprehensible, making it all the more amazing that he'd done what he had.

‘I very much hope he'll go to prison for a very long time,' he replied. ‘I'll explain it all to you later, if I've got the energy. Meantime, remind me to buy you the biggest ice cream sundae that money can buy!'

Mikey shook his head.

‘Not this week. I'm riding at Fontwell on Saturday.'

‘Yeah, well I hope so.'

Just feet away, the WPC was loading Truman into the back of the police car, a guiding hand
on his head. Helen hovered, her face haggard with shock.

For the trainer, that would be the final indignity, Ben reflected. Being arrested by a woman. It was a satisfying thought.

Logan came back.

‘Looks like you've had fun and games,' he commented.

‘Yeah, it was some reunion.'

‘Well, I'm afraid this is going to take a while to sort out. Are you all right?' He shone his torch over Ben from head to toes and back again.

‘Yeah. I should go and see Gyorgy. Poor bloke; this is nothing to do with him.'

‘You should go and see the paramedics,' Logan suggested.

Ben raised his eyebrows.