Teddy groaned with the impact, and let off a volley of shots, one of them hitting the door of the lodge. He fell then, slumping, easily visible now as a black mass upon the white lawn. Dan fired into his crumpled body again and jumped up.
He ran towards him, taking a head shot as soon as he had a clear visual, though unlike with Rick, it seemed he’d hit lucky with the first two. As he looked down at the messed-up face, a barely audible, insect-like noise sounded in Teddy’s earpiece, one of the guys in the house responding to the shots, which even with the silencers had produced a racket.
Dan ignored it. He readied himself to move instead, thinking through how best to approach the house, but the decision was made for him. Because when Teddy didn’t respond to the voice in his ear, the owner of that voice answered in his own way by turning on floodlights which tore through the darkness, blinding him, lighting up the gardens like some Christmas theme park. There was no time left for strategy—Dan started running even before he heard the first shot.
Chapter Forty-one
Another couple of shots came in quick succession. It was a sniper rifle of some sort, being fired from high up with a good view over the gardens on that side. Dan dived into the nearest stand of shrubs and trees, and even then, scrabbled to get behind the trunk of one of the trees, knowing the shrubs wouldn’t offer much protection.
It was only then that he was absolutely certain he hadn’t been hit. But he was still a good sprint across open lawn from the cover of the house. He looked back across the dazzlingly bright snow now, fresh flakes still falling and catching the light, Teddy’s body already getting a dusting.
Dan slid down the trunk and onto his belly, then crawled along the back of the stand of shrubs. He wasn’t visible, he knew that much, but a shot still fired out and he felt it pull at his back and plough into the snow with an explosive thud. He crawled faster, made the cover of a bigger tree, sat up.
He didn’t feel hurt, but gingerly slid his hand behind his back and felt his jacket. The bullet had ripped shreds through it but hadn’t touched him. Ironically, it filled him with unease, because it made him feel he was riding his luck.
He also guessed they were using thermal cameras, given that they’d known exactly where to fire. And that meant they knew exactly where he was right now, probably even knew what his next move would be. He had no choice but to make that move, though—all he could do was play it fast.
He pushed himself up into a standing position, glanced out from one side of the tree, and before he’d even heard the shot that followed, he leaned out the other side, fired a shot at the upper windows, then ran, hurtling across the lit lawns, ignoring the cover now but aiming only to tighten the angle and get to the house.
One, two, three shots, but all somewhere behind him. He kept running, found a side door—locked—kicked it in and stepped inside. It was a boot room or pantry, in darkness, perhaps leading to the kitchen that Josh had mentioned as their usual haunt.
He moved on, found an alcove set back, not even sure what it was, and he stepped back into its shadows and waited. He could hear footsteps somewhere above, hurried, and then a voice, though he couldn’t make out the words.
Then he heard the same voice again, this time raised, saying, “Bill, he’s in the house!”
Dan didn’t hear Bill’s response, but whatever it was, a door slammed and footsteps hurried across the floor. They stopped again, but Dan picked up the faint creaking of a stair. A few moments later he could sense that there was someone just along the corridor from him, not far away.
The guy had probably seen the forced door, but he was too smart to investigate. Dan could hear the faint sounds of him backing away again, followed by an ominous total silence, and then the alcove he was in filled with light. He guessed the lights could all be controlled centrally and the guy had turned them on.
He let his eyes adjust, then turned and saw a small wooden door behind him, up a step. If he was right, there was a flight of stairs behind that door, once used by the servants of the house. There was a metal latch on it, and carefully, Dan lifted it and eased the door a fraction.
It let out a brief high-pitched creak, so he stopped, but he could see there were definitely stairs beyond. He just had to hope there was still an opening at the top and the house hadn’t been remodeled, because as soon as he pulled this door open all the way he’d be giving his position away.
He opened it swiftly, the hinges letting out a horror-film creak, and ran up. The stairs were stacked on both sides with various cleaning supplies and he could see another door at the top, but he’d committed himself now. He hopped up between the bottles and cans and brushes, reached the top, clicked the latch. Nothing.