A Date with The Devil Pt. 04 - Final

Chapter Thirty-nine

For reasons he couldn't explain Nino followed Leo, but slowly. He may have been in best shape of the three beaten up guys, but he was still groggy. The world was swirling around him and the floors under his feet were moving, up and down and right and left, the way the deck of a boat moves over choppy waters.

By the time Nino arrived at the back door Leo was nowhere to be seen. The door was wide open, so it seemed he'd gone outside. Fresh air seemed like a good idea to him, so he kept on going.

Nino heard the first two gunshots as he went along the side of the house. An adrenalin surge raced in him, flooding every last vein in no time at all. Instantly revived and on full alert, he carefully eased out his own weapon.

He rounded the corner of the building in time to see a flash closely followed by the sound of another two shots. The action was going down over by the marquee. By the looks of things, Leo had flipped, big-time. Now, using just a single shot he slayed a third individual then just stood there motionless, his head tilted back, staring up into the heavens. He still had his piece, however. It was plainly there in his right hand, pointing down at the lawn.

'Well fuck me,' Nino breathed as he tentatively approached. Then, halting a cautious five yards away, he spoke louder. 'Leo, are you all right? Can I help you?'

Leo didn't appear to hear him. He stayed as he was, gazing up at the star-spangled sky, his arm limp at his side.

Nino tried to remember how many slugs that particular Beretta held and failed miserably, although he did suspect it was a lot more than just five.

'Leo,' he tried again, 'can I help you?'

Now Leo turned, arm still hanging limply. 'Yes,' he said mildly. 'Get these bodies into the Thames and clean up all this mess.'

The loud marquee music had stopped and Nino could hear people screaming off in the distance, not all of them female. Correctly guessing there had been a mass exodus, he took a closer look at those bodies. He knew a dead man when he saw one and these three were deader than dodos. As for the "mess" Leo wanted cleaning . . .

Forget it. The back wall of the massive tent wasn't just splattered, it was awash with gore. So too was the lawn. A couple of baby wipes weren't going to mop that up anytime soon.

Sirens could be heard over all the screaming and wailing of panicking humans. The filth was coming, and at full throttle at that.

'Leo,' he ventured, 'we need to exit stage right, like yesterday.'

In response Leo's limp arm flexed, bringing the Beretta up into a firing position. 'You fucking two faced cunt,' he said.

Acting purely instinctively Nino pulled the trigger, his weapon firing three times, almost simultaneously with Leo's short series of shots.

Next he knew he was on his back on the grass, hurting like fuck. Far as he could tell he had taken two hits: one in his shoulder, the other in his chest. He had no idea if or where Leo had been hit and felt a bolt off alarm. He was unable to get up. That bald-headed bastard could be closing in on him, ready to apply the coup de grace.

He couldn't even lift his head for a looksee. Right now he had no strength at all.

Over the sound of those fast approaching sirens he could hear wheels churning gravel.

I'm going to be okay, he though as the life blood seeped out of him. Leo must have taken one as well. The emergency services will be here to save both of us any second.

'Armed police,' a voice yelled, aided by a megaphone. 'Drop your weapons and come out with hands up in the air.'

Nino had already dropped his weapon; as far as he could tell, so had Leo. He tried to yell back but his mouth wouldn't work. Alarmingly, he realized he'd taken a bullet in the lung. Breathing air was getting progressively harder.

He couldn't raise so much as a whisper to tell the filth bastards that their coast was clear!

'Okay boys,' Megaphone Man said, 'play it like that. Worry not; we can wait here all night. And we will if we have to. And by the way, don't bother to ask us for food, booze and dancing girls. You're getting fuck all.'

Disheartened (although the lethal shot had been well wide of his heart), Nino closed his eyes and, in a matter of mere minutes, died.

*****

Alison's apartment was in one of the better parts of Camden. Yet on their way there they saw at least three police cars and a marked van, tearing past them, heading for St Johns Wood.

'They're after you,' Mary Rose told Heather. 'Rough Yorkshire lassie assaults innocent billionaire.'

'I' didn't get chance to assault the innocent billionaire,' Heather countered, 'worst luck.'

'As if,' said Lindsey, seeming fully recovered. 'Last things bastards like them would do is call for the cops.'

'Hmmm,' went Alison.

Five minutes later, with Lindsey dishing out their hostess's dry white vino (seemingly regardless of her expectant condition), the conversation moved on to what next. Except Alison vacated her kitchen and clicked on an extra-large widescreen TV in her lounge. 'I'm intrigued by those cop cars,' she said over her shoulder. 'I . . . I . . . oh my God, you guys get your asses in here!'

They did and all gasped at the images on the widescreen. Alison had opened up a local news channel and the female lead presenter was standing in an instantly recognizable street. No, not a street, it was an avenue.

The sexy young blonde reporter was standing directly outside Leo's St John's Wood mansion.

'I'm here in a most elite part of town,' she said, suitably breathlessly. 'As you can see behind me, the authorities have sealed this desirable residence off and are keeping onlookers well away.

She wasn't wrong there. There was a swarm of people around her but nobody anywhere near to the electric gates, which were locked fast shut . . . again.

'Information is flowing slowly,' the blonde went on, 'but it's impossible to deny that firearms have been discharged here, in the very heart of England. Early indications are that the issue is a local one. There will be more of that soon; let's now join Alex with a key eyewitness.'

Alex was an equally young, equally enthusiastic guy with short black hair. 'Thank you Dianne,' he said in introduction. Then, turning to an obviously high-maintenance woman beside him: 'Mrs Rodgers is a near neighbour who was attending a barbeque at the property behind us. Mrs Rodgers, what can you say to our viewers about tonight's events?'

'I know her,' Heather blurted. 'I must have refilled her champagne flute ten times at least!'

Mrs Rodgers didn't come across as a woman with several bottles of Moet inside her. Well, not much. Mostly she came across as a woman who knew everything about her neighbourhood and was not in the least reluctant to share.

'It was our host,' she began. 'At first he was all sweetness and light and the party was going with a big swing. He was actually paying me a lot of attention, even though I was there with my husband and my two sons. Well, I like attention as much as the next girl, so why not? But suddenly he seemed to snap and left me in the middle of a conversation. Ten minutes later he was shooting everyone right, left and centre.'

That prompted a swift cut back to the blonde. 'Please disregard that as far as total, absolute facts are concerned,' she said smoothly. Then, with the world's widest smile: 'But please remember where you heard it first. And please remember, we are the channel who always gets in at the sharp end. We are the channel that goes where angels are afraid to tread.'

Epilogue

Arguments continued a while in Alison's apartment: should they chip in with what they knew and help the police investigation . . . or should they keep it at arm's length. Mary Rose wanted to keep it as far away from her as possible.

'I'd rather defend than prosecute a case like that,' she kept saying. 'Talk about building your castle on sandy ground!'

Heather tended to agree with her. Lindsey seemed to be neutral while Nina wanted to see heads up on poles. The debate was, however, good natured. There were no vigorously pointing fingers or rash and hasty words.

Then Dianne, the delicious blonde screen goddess, was up centre-screen again. 'The authorities are understandably not telling us anything,' she began (stressing "understandably" as if their stance was anything but). 'But we do have information from a confidential source,' she added eagerly.

The camera lens immediately zoomed in on her, making her seem more beautiful and important than ever.

'I cannot reveal how I know this,' she said smugly, 'but I can confirm there have been five deaths and two serious injuries. I can also confirm that the host of the barbeque is the leading suspect in ongoing enquiries. The working theory is that the host went berserk for some reason. He killed four men who worked with or for him, then turned his gun on himself. Further updates will follow shortly.'

'Sounds about right to me,' Alison volunteered.

'Me too,' Heather agreed, 'but she never said anything about what happened in the actual house.'

'Trust me, Hev,' said Mary Rose, back to her old confident self, 'they will tear that house apart. What Leo has down in his basement will be analyzed to the nth degree. Black candlesticks, robes . . . they'll find every last item and test it for DNA and everything else. Then they'll match the results to all of their data bases. I'm ready to bet they'll get some hits and start asking some very leading questions.'

'Are you worried about them finding samples of your lady juice?' Heather responded with a grin.

As if Mare would crumple with embarrassment. 'Far as I know I'm not on any register,' she said, 'not on any public register, anyway.'

'Yeah,' Heather replied, 'you would say that, wouldn't you?'

While the two of them cackled like the witches they were, Nina had noticed a different reaction.

'Lindsey,' she cried anxiously, 'are you all right?'

Lindsey was suddenly, abruptly laughing like a loon. 'I'm better than ever,' she finally managed, tears streaking her face. 'Leo's dead. He really is.'

'You've only got that bimbo's word for it,'

'No I haven't,' Lindsey replied, laughing even louder. 'My bump . . . It's gone!'