1963 North Carolina By David Lamb

Brigadier Lewis Caradog, veteran MI6 agent, inched forwards along the steep side of the roof, checking each tile would take his weight before making each step. The moon was covered by cloud, so the shadows were nice and deep. Lewis liked shadows; kept things nice and simple shadows; no running around making lots of noise with shadows. Lewis was a master of stealth, he could blend seemly into a crowd, vanish in the shadows and cross a squeaky wooden floor silently. He always went to extreme lengths to draw as little attention as possible at every point within any operation he was involved in. His frequent operational partner, Brigadier James Law, was more like a plane crash in a fireworks factory. Slowly Lewis moved towards the dormer window extending from the roof, a yellow light coming from the room inside. He could hear shouting coming from inside the attic. That would help to hide any noise he made. “These people always make it easier for me.” thought Lewis, “they don’t post any sentries, and then they kick up a fuss and lose any chance of spotting me coming.” Obviously, they did not expect anyone to be coming. The occupants of this house were not enemy intelligence agents, or even soldiers, they were an organised crime gang and Lewis knew it was unfair to hold them to the high standard of his normal adversaries. James Law recoiled back in the chair as the air was forced from his lungs by a straight punch to the gut. He sat with his head forward gasping for a few moments, then shock it.

Page | 1 1963 North Carolina daringfiction.com by David Lamb “That was shit.” he said, “my ten-year-old niece hits harder.” James smiled. The man hitting him did not see the joke and hit him again. Lewis watched the scene in the small mirror he held at the edge of the window on its extendible rod. James was hit again, and fell sideways, the chair he was tied to coming with him. One of the men walked up to the struggling figure on the floor and kicked him. Lewis reckoned that would break a couple of ribs. Lewis made a careful examination of the man, so he would remember him for later. Six foot one; maybe forty years old; light brown hair with some signs of sun bleaching; two gold rings, one with a blue stone; mole on the left side of his neck. “You’re going to stop a few, sunshine.” thought Lewis having singled the man out for the unique experience of been shot by Lewis more than once. Lewis prided himself on his one shot, one kill track record. Lewis could see this was a normal sash windows with a single quadrant arm lock on the inside where the top and bottom parts of the windows met. It was the sort that could easily be opened from the outside if you knew what you were doing, which he did. “Good”, he could get in without having to break any glass. Three men to defeat was to many for a knife, it would have to be a suppressed pistol. One pistol should do. “Take it easy on him.” he heard one of the men say. “This guy’s starting to annoy me.” said one of the others. “You’re starting to annoy me.” quipped James. “Shut up!” they all yelled, followed by the sound of another punch. Lewis slowly removed a thin flexible piece of metal from his webbing. He would be able to use it as a shim to open the lock on the window. Do it slowly and carefully so no one in the attic room would hear him coming.

Page | 2 1963 North Carolina daringfiction.com by David Lamb “You might not want to be all that helpful right now, but we’ll see how you do when Mr Anderson gets here tomorrow.” said one of the men. Lewis stopped, the shim poised near the gap between the upper and lower window frames. Timothy Anderson was the reason he and James were in North Carolina this month. He was an up and coming drugs peddler with many international connections, including . While his new money habits did not speak loudly of communist sympathies, with the big crisis over those Russian missiles only seven months behind them, he had to be checked out. It was of utmost importance to find any American citizens that had ties to the Castro government, political, financial, or criminal. Anderson defiantly had contacts in the FBI, so the job had been passed to the British who were sufficiently distant to keep operational security. James had been working on a lead when he had been caught and brought to this house. Lewis had eventually decided it was better to free James, and then both of them go after Anderson, rather than Lewis go alone and hope James freed himself. Now the man they were after was coming here, which removed the inconvenience of looking for him. Now all Lewis had to do was get close to Anderson without getting James killed at the same time. Timothy Anderson had created an image as some kind of playboy. He bought big mansions, like this one, kept racehorses, always had the latest flash cars, wore a very deep tan, and sported far too much jewellery for Lewis’ taste. Plus, he wore the same sort of suits as James, always from the latest big-name designers, in the latest cuts and colours. Lewis didn’t like that sort of thing, it was fine for a civilian, but in this line of work it was bound to get you noticed. Lewis did not like to be noticed and kept his suits finely tailored, tasteful and traditional. Tonight, he was not in a suit. He wore black military fatigues with

Page | 3 1963 North Carolina daringfiction.com by David Lamb his own hand made webbing which he had modified continually over the last few years to until everything was exactly where he wanted it and made no sound as he moved. The mansion, the roof Lewis was crouched on, was in the early colonial style of the region, with a large portico at the front and lots of balconies on each floor. It had been modernised recently with a new wing on one side and the building was now L shaped. The main part of the house was underneath him, with the short part of the L comprising the east wing. The front of the house was on the north side with a square of land about four hundred yards wide and two hundred yards deep through which the drive curved towards the front entrance. The ground was dotted with big mature trees which helped to hide the house from the road, although their last use had been to hide an intruder from the house. Three stories below Lewis, on the south side of the house, was a big swimming pool. The garden to the rear of the house was in darkness but the lights from the ground floor reflected off the water’s surface casting just enough light for Lewis to discern its shape and surroundings. The pool was a regular rectangle with the house on its north and east sides. On the south and west sides, a tall square cut hedge surrounded the pool area, giving it privacy from the rest of the grounds.There was a small building, not much more than a shed in the far corner. It was separated from the main house, and looked to Lewis like a good place to hide until Anderson arrived tomorrow. Lewis made his way along the roof to the west end of the house where he could see a balcony on the floor below. The room that the balcony was outside of seemed quiet and dark. He waited for ten minutes, listening, before he was convinced the room was empty. Lewis lowered himself over the edge of the roof and dropped on to the wooden floor of the balcony, bending his knees as he landed until he was sat on his haunches, his arms absorbing more

Page | 4 1963 North Carolina daringfiction.com by David Lamb energy from the fall so he made virtually no sound. Quickly checking around him, he climbed over the balcony railing and down the wooden support to ground level. As soon as he reached the ground, he stepped neatly into a shadow at the base of the tall neatly trimmed hedge that ran up the side of the pool. He waited. No sounds of alarm came from the house. He could hear the muffled sound of talking from somewhere inside, but it was normal quiet conversation. The faint sound of music reached him. The men were clearly bored, and not expecting trouble they had turned on the radio. If only Anderson wasn’t coming tonight Lewis would have found ways to entertain them. Still there was always tomorrow. Slowly Lewis made his way across the stone slabs that surrounded the pool towards the little hut. The sound of conversation suddenly got louder behind him and Lewis just had time to get into a recess in the hedge, where a statue stood, before the outside lights came on. The pool glowed blue as the lights under water came on, and the lights on the back wall of the mansion illuminated the area just behind the house. Two men walked into the lit area from a door at one end of the house. They walked to one of the round tables set on the stones overlooking the pool and sat down to have smoke. Lewis stood motionless behind a horrible reproduction of a classical warrior, naked except for its Greek helmet and short sword. The evening was pleasantly cool after the heat of the day, and the two men clearly enjoyed being out here in the fresh air. They sat and talked quietly for almost two hours, during which time Lewis learnt that they had served in the Army together, been passed over for promotion and had lots of dull stories. He also learnt that they found Anderson to be very inconsistent in his instructions. He would switch from micromanaging to handing out vague

Page | 5 1963 North Carolina daringfiction.com by David Lamb proclamations which his employees had to interpret themselves. They both agreed that as long as you did something that kept the boss happy it didn’t matter what else you did. The only parts that Lewis was interested in were the snippets of gossip and dropped names that allowed him to be confident there were at least seven men in the house tonight. Finally, having run out of cigarettes and stories, they went back inside. The lights turned off again. Lewis did not move for another twenty minutes so that his eyes could fully adjust to the dark before leaving his hiding spot. The shed was locked with a padlock, the big solid sort that gave people confidence. Lewis spent a few seconds picking it then went inside. He put the padlock in one the pouches on his vest. Leaving it hanging open would be no good; that would draw attention, while no one would spot it was missing unless they were actually looking for it. Lewis had a small torch with a red filter over the lens. He switched it on and took a look around the inside of the shed. There was a bench and some coat hooks, as well as a big machine with lots of pipes connected to it. Clearly hiding here was no good. It was the changing room and hot water supply for the pool. People were likely to come and go from here during the day. Lewis had planned to stay here and wait for Anderson to show up before making his move. Then it was a matter of finding James and job done. Now he needed another plan. The pool was a good start. The Summer was only just starting, but it was already looking like a warm one. “Anderson would want to come out here and enjoy the weather,” thought Lewis. “He may even bring James out here; show off a bit; relax in the sun; drink champagne; have James beaten.” It sounded like a credible scenario and that meant Lewis needed somewhere to watch the rear of the mansion from.

Page | 6 1963 North Carolina daringfiction.com by David Lamb Lewis had explored the perimeter of the house as he approached it before climbing on to the roof. The main road which passed the entrance to the estate followed a river through the woodland that sat to the north. The driveway made its way towards the grand front before curving round to finish on the east side. The pool is on the south side of the house of course to catch the sun. The land behind the house was open grassland which slopped up slightly to a tree line maybe half a mile away. It would give Lewis a vantage point. Somewhere to watch the house and watch for an opportunity. Knowing he would be back at this house again tomorrow, and very probably dealing with a number of armed men around this pool area Lewis decided to give himself some options. Searching round the hut he found a cupboard with bottles of chemicals inside, presumable for cleaning the pool with. He took the two hand grenades he was carrying and hid them at the back of the cupboard. The bench that bathers could sit on while they changed was the type with a large storage box built into the base. There was a gap between the back of the box and the wall of the hut. Lewis slid his Model 12 sub into the gap. It wouldn’t fit until he unfolded the stock which normally rested along one side of the weapon. Once he was satisfied that the weapons could not be found without a deliberate search, he left the shed. There was a gate set in the east wall which lead out of the pool area. Lewis did intend to leave through that gate, however there were lights on in the end room of the east wing, right next to the gate. Rather than approach an occupied part of the house, he slowly climbed on to the changing room roof and jumped over the hedge. Checking again that no sound of alarm had begun in the house, Lewis moved away from the hedge and disappeared into the darkness.

Page | 7 1963 North Carolina daringfiction.com by David Lamb Lewis watched as Timothy Anderson walked out the back of the house and over to one of the tables. He adjusted the focus on his large Navy binoculars and Andersons image became clear and crisp. He shifted slightly his sitting position on the branch and checked that the plastic leg under the binoculars would not slip on the bark. Twenty times magnification gave him an excellent view as Anderson sat and talked to one of his men. The man indicated towards the top of the house. Lewis scanned the roof line. Had he dislodged a tile by mistake? Had they searched the roof this morning? No, he would have seen that. Lewis had been thirty feet up in the branches of this tree since an hour before dawn. Seven hours later he was starting to feel a bit stiff and shifted his position again. The man continued to talk to Anderson and indicated up again. Then Lewis realised he was indicating the attic room where James had been. Maybe they were going to bring James out? After about an hour of conversation the man got up and went back into the house. Anderson got up and went to the little hut. As he approached it he was hidden from Lewis’ view. He tensed slightly and waited, looking for signs that his weapons had been found. A few minutes later Anderson emerged in a pair of tight swimming trunks and dived into the pool. It was starting to warm up now and stuck up in his tree under his camouflage net with all his equipment on Lewis was getting a bit uncomfortable. He would rather have liked a swim himself right about now. Still he had no choice but to carry on waiting. After his swim, one of his men brought Anderson a towel and he went back to the hut. This time he came out in a pair of shorts and headed to a sun chair. Another man brought him a drink with lots of ice. Lewis ate a Mars bar and sipped from his canteen; the water was warm.

Page | 8 1963 North Carolina daringfiction.com by David Lamb Twenty minutes later James appeared. Lewis quickly checked his kit again. A pair of supressed Ruger pistols; four grenades, another Beretta M12 smg, plus his various knifes. Anderson had moved to a table under a big umbrella style sunshade. James was taken over to the table by three men. The little group stopped six feet from the table. Lewis waited. Was James going to try and fight? He had got out of some tight scrapes before. If James went for it then Lewis would let him make his own escape and keep track of Anderson. Once he had Anderson, he wasn’t going to let him go. Anderson was talking to James. James didn’t seem to respond. Anderson spoke again, leaning forward in his chair, his hands becoming animated as he spoke. James looked at Anderson for a moment and Anderson indicated that he wanted him to sit at his table. James said something and then seemed to be laughing. The man behind James punched him in the side. James fell forwards on to one knee. “Watch it James,” said Lewis to himself, “you’ve taken quite a pounding over the last day. You can’t soak it up forever.” Slowly James stood. Lewis wished that he was closer and that he was looking through a scope instead. Take a few heads off, that would give James a better chance. James turned slowly to look at the man who had hit him. It was the same man Lewis had taken the time to remember last night. James said something to him, he pointed at him, his finger stabbing towards him. The man smiled; all of his colleagues smiled. Then he hit James again. Lewis was actually feeling angry at this point his normally impassive calm during operations bending slightly. Once again James stood. Again, he spoke to the man. The man smiled and looked round at his mates. They all smiled back. James was building this up, and it must be for a reason. Lewis found himself leaning forward in his tree

Page | 9 1963 North Carolina daringfiction.com by David Lamb as if trying to get a closer view. The man swung at James, but he didn’t hit him. James caught the arm and twisted. When all the muscles in the man’s arm, shoulder, and neck were tight James smashed his hand down on his neck. “Excellent technique.” thought Lewis. James let go of the arm and the dead man fell to the stone floor. Suddenly there were guns drawn. The men all pointed pistols at James. James ignored them; Lewis counted them: five guns. James approached the table, pulled a chair out and sat down. Then he took a cigar out of the box on the table bit the end off and lit it from the big gold lighter that sat next to the box. He took a couple of puffs, then raised his arm and clicked his fingers as if summoning a waiter. He pointed at the drink Anderson had in front of him, then put his feet on the table. Lewis almost wanted to cheer. “Nicely done! Kill a goon, scrounge a smoke, then order a cocktail. But you’re still going to get yourself killed one day.” Time to move. Lewis knew what James had done. He had gained a psychological advantage over them for a moment. They thought they had beaten and broken him, they were in charge and he was helpless. Instead he casually kills one of them and then ignores the rest. Treats them as it they are not a threat to show he is in charge. It will have put all of them off balance and left them shaken. They would recover, but for a few minutes there was an opportunity. Lewis set off to take full advantage of it. “I’m not staying at this hotel again. The staff are very rude.” said James. Anderson looked at the body by his pool, seemed shocked by what had just happened. He looked at James and sat thoughtful for a moment. He recovered his composure and smiled.

Page | 10 1963 North Carolina daringfiction.com by David Lamb “Mr Law, I am sorry about Daniel, he overstepped the mark.” said Anderson. “They have been a bit rough with you in my absence? I will make sure they don’t do it again.” “Now why would you do that?” asked James puffing on his cigar; keeping the end nice and hot; very painful if pushed into an eye. “Daniel used to be a cop.” said Anderson, “He got in to trouble with his superiors. Overstepped the mark there as well. A man like him can sometimes be useful to a man like me, but a man like you, well…” “Are you offering me a job?” asked James, genuinely unprepared for this turn of events. “Mr Law with your connections and skills, you would be of immense value to my organisation.” “I suppose you’re going to tell me it is better paid than government work.” Anderson laughed. He took out a cigar and lit it. “Mr Law, last year I made a million dollars profit. A million! In five years, it will be ten million. After that who knows? One day maybe I will have a hundred million dollars. Imagine that! The life you could lead with that sort of money.” “I had thought about freelance work.” said James truthfully. “And why not.” Anderson stood up. “Where is Mr Laws drink?” he called. The men stood around looking rather unsure what they should do.; some still had their guns in their hands. He pointed at one of them. “Go get one now.” The man went inside, while the others put their guns away; clearly the boss had it under control and they could stand down. Anderson sat and carried on talking. “It is new world, full of opportunities for those with the courage to go and get them. The Ruskies have

Page | 11 1963 North Carolina daringfiction.com by David Lamb backed down over their dammed bombs, and very soon we’ll beat them for good. We’re going to the moon, and Elvis has conquered the world. It’s a good time to be alive. A brave new decade. I tell you things have never been so good, especially for people like me.” “When times are good people buy more cocaine?” James didn’t see the logic there. “Yes. Good times means working hard. It’s a high-pressure world. People are under a lot of stress. Before, they used to get by with a cup of coffee and a pack of cigarettes, but now they need something more effective.” James couldn’t believe it. This guy was trying to sell narcotics as a cure for modern life. “Although, if your business needs to break the law on a grand scale I can see why you’d want to hire me.” James sipped his drink. “Where,” he wondered, “is Lewis?” He had hoped that Lewis had spotted that things went wrong yesterday, and that he had followed them here but so far no sign of him. “He’s probably doing one of his subtle, stealthy plans,” thought James. “I bet he broke in here last night and poisoned all the sugar lumps so when they have coffee after dinner tonight, they all die.” James puffed his cigar while Anderson started to sing the benefits that cocaine could bring to the modern American life. Lewis bent low as he got nearer the house. He scanned the ground in front of him carefully as he moved so as not to trip or unexpectedly dislodge a stone. A dried up stream twisted its way from the wood, down towards the river in front of the house, coming within two hundred yards of the house at it closest approach. Lewis used the gully the stream had cut as cover while he drew nearer. Finally, he stopped, he was now to the east of the house and

Page | 12 1963 North Carolina daringfiction.com by David Lamb could see four cars parked where the drive ended. Two had been there all the time, one he had followed here yesterday after James was captured. The fourth must be Andersons. Lewis did not approve, not because it was a bad car, quite the contrary, Lewis had one himself, but men like Anderson did not deserve such an elegant car as a Ferrari 250 GT Lusso just because they could afford one. Lewis stayed low and motionless for a couple of minutes. He did not see anyone round this side of the building, so it did not look like the grounds were being patrolled. He climbed out of the ditch and ran towards the cars, ducking down between two of them. “Idiot” Lewis muttered to himself. “He has one of the best Italian sports coupes in the world and fits a sunroof to it!” he shook his head in despair. “Adds weight and weakens the structure. Who does that sort of thing?” Lewis moved towards the side gate which led though to the poolside area. It was the first chance to look at it in daylight, and it didn’t look good. The gate was good solid wood panels and locked from the other side. It was set into a wall that had layered brick arches running along the top of it. He supposed it was meant to look like a Roman aqueduct. It made the wall ten feet tall and partly see through. “Nasty mix of architectures this place.” thought Lewis, while not at all surprised that Anderson would like this terrible mix of styles. He could not climb over that wall in broad day light without been spotted. The hedge that Lewis had hidden next to last night ran along the west and south sides of the pool and while it was slightly lower than the wall it was six-foot-thick and couldn’t be climbed or pushed through without attracting a lot of attention. He needed a way to cause a distraction so he could get in and knock a couple of guys down before they knew what had hit them. He could just toss the grenades over the wall, or maybe set fire to the cars? The best distraction

Page | 13 1963 North Carolina daringfiction.com by David Lamb would be one that would let James know that something was about to happen before alerting the others. Lewis would have to do something showy and obvious, something that did not come easily to him. He would have to act more like James and do something blatant and frankly unsubtle. He hoped no one at the office heard about this: it would ruin his reputation. “Miami is the key you see. So much ocean, you see? The feds can’t patrol it effectively. And while the Cuban government is more than happy to help with a business they think will destroy America, I have been making good connections in Columbia. South America is the future, the Caribbean is yesterday’s news. Those cartels, they have great influence in the government, the police, and the army. The situation is much less complicated for an entrepreneur like me, and that means more profits for us.” Anderson was still in full flow, outlining how his operation worked, and how James could help him. “I need someone like you down in Miami. Someone who can get things done, no matter what it takes. I’ll pay you fifty thousand dollars. Fifty thousand! And that’s just for starters.” James considered how the situation had changed and what his next move should be.It seemed to him the Cuban link to Anderson was a nonstarter, at least in a political sense. Anderson was no communist, so not technically an enemy of America, apart from bringing tons of drugs into the country each year. Which brought James back to Anderson’s offer of employment. He was well aware that he had an almost unrivalled set of skills and experience and he could probably do much better than fifty thousand dollars. But he had to start somewhere, and James liked Miami, it was a fun city and the idea of been a big shot and causing a ruckus rather appealed.

Page | 14 1963 North Carolina daringfiction.com by David Lamb James let Anderson talk. It kept the other men relaxed; less likely to get twitchy and do something James wasn’t ready for. He listened carefully, but without really concentrating. He had always been able to do that, switch off slightly while not missing a thing. A very useful talent in the intelligence community. He didn’t miss the sound of an engine starting on the other side of the wall. Anderson missed it because he was busy telling James about the view he would have from his condo, and how many girls would want to hang out there. Some of the men heard it, but did not react to it, so James assumed one of them was moving a car. It was significant because it meant that James might be about to take a little trip. He supposed if he was pressed and didn’t accept Anderson’s offer, he would be taken on a one-way trip. James tried to work out which was the better option; take them here at the house or wait till they were on the road? He normally favoured the second option. A small amount of explosive violence in a cramped car usually did the trick. Then collect their weapons, bring the car back here and finish off the rest. James was tired of waiting for Lewis to sneak his way to the rescue, so ram the car through the front doors and shoot everybody. The engine noise grew as it was revved and mixed with the sound of gravel been kicked up. Anderson stopped mid-sentence. That was a good engine; a powerful engine; a racing V12. The noise faded as the car raced away. “That’s my fucking car.” he blurted and turned to look at the wall beyond which his car had been parked. James didn’t know exactly what was going on, but he recognised that musing about job offers was over and it was time to focus because a chance to kick things off here seemed about to happen. Daniel was still lying dead by the pool, and he still had his gun under his jacket. Once this crowd were

Page | 15 1963 North Carolina daringfiction.com by David Lamb preoccupied with whatever was going on out there, he would make a dash for the gun. James’ mind jumped from one man to the next, working out target priorities. The noise returned, suddenly, from the south. The engine revved wildly as the car tore through the hedge three feet in the air, flying over the surrounding flagstones before plunging its graceful red Italian nose into the cool pale blue of the pool. It was hard to say who was most surprised. It might even have been James. He had been waiting for some sign that Lewis was on the case. Normally, that meant sitting around patently until various people nearby starting inexplicably dying. Italian sports cars dramatically arriving in swimming pools was a big departure. Irrelevant of who was the most surprised, the most experienced man here, and the only one who moments before had been poised to act, was James; he made good use of his head start. A two-foot wave of water surged from the pool while the men jumped back in total shock at what was happening. James upended the table on to Anderson and turned to rush for Daniels gun, at which point he found the body being pushed towards him by the wave. He dove forward at the approaching corpse, arm outstretched towards the hip holster under the dead man’s jacket. He landed, his injured ribs sending a jolt of pain through his chest, which James pushed down and concentrated on the gun. His hand closed round the grip and he pulled it free. As he slid across the stone next to the body his other hand pulled the slide back and raised the pistol up towards his first target. The man had been watching the car and hadn’t seen James in time. He went for his own gun, but it was too late, James fired two shots into his sternum from floor level, both rounds exiting through the back of his neck. James rolled over to face the second man. His head whipped back as a bullet went straight

Page | 16 1963 North Carolina daringfiction.com by David Lamb through his forehead, before James could fire. Lewis had emerged through the Ferrari’s sunroof and in keeping with his new direct approach had forgone his normal suppressed two-two calibre pistol and instead was knocking them down with his Beretta M12 sub machine gun. The two agents swept the poolside, instinctively coordinating their fire as they had done so many times before. Both of them putting pairs of shots into each of their targets since they were not firing from ideal positions. James was firing left-handed, while lying on his side on the floor, while Lewis was standing on the driver’s seat of a sinking car with the stock still folded on his sub machine gun. The three remaining men around the pool were dead in less than two seconds with only one of them having managed to draw his weapon and fire but missing by a couple of yards. James spun round to face Anderson, only to see his tanned back running towards an open backdoor; the kitchen door he seemed to remember. James aimed, but the Smith and Wesson 39 was empty. Lewis also saw Anderson running for the house, but he also saw the three men inside the house running past the windows towards the open door with their guns drawn. Lewis’ position half inside a bright red car in a swimming pool was a bit to exposed. Time for the next surprise in his surprise attack. He fired a long burst through the house windows, one of the men fell backwards, the other two ducked just as Anderson reached the open door and disappeared inside. Lewis climbed on to the roof of the car, then jumped across the stretch of water between the car and the poolside. He landed, rolled and ran behind the same statue he had hidden behind the night before. “Ffrwydrol.” he shouted while throwing a grenade back in through the sunroof.

Page | 17 1963 North Carolina daringfiction.com by David Lamb “Explosives?” thought James. Lewis had taught James some Welsh a few years ago and it often proved very useful. It allowed them to call out moves and tactics during gunfights without the enemy ever having any idea what they were saying. “Lewis has a bomb!” realised James and pushed himself flat against the stone. It was too exposed for Lewis to start throwing grenades around out here, but one exploding underwater would be a much safer demonstration. The grenade exploded, destroying the car and sending a great plume of water high into the air. So much water landed on James that it hurt, his sore chest reasserting its presence and for a moment he couldn’t breathe. It was a shame Lewis has to destroy the car, but survival in these fights, when you were on the enemy’s own territory and outnumbered, relied on momentum and psychological advantage. The men in that house did not know they only faced two men. All they knew was there was lots of shooting, lots of casualties, and now an explosion. “James.” shouted Lewis. James, thoroughly soaked, turned to see what he wanted. Lewis pulled a Colt forty-five from a holster and tossed it James It was quite a long toss, but Lewis was a good throw, and was very familiar with the weight of the Colt. James reached up and caught the spinning gun by the grip and immediately felt better. He liked the M1911, always had; it felt good; heavy; reassuring. Lewis folded the stock from the side of the Beretta and fired bursts in through the back windows, creating showers of glass that fell on the men cowering inside. James sprung to his feet and ran to the house under Lewis’ covering fire. He threw himself in through the doorway; immediately three shots cracked out. Lewis ran after him, slowing as he approached the door. Just outside it he dropped to one knee and swung the barrel in round

Page | 18 1963 North Carolina daringfiction.com by David Lamb the door frame. The kitchen was empty, apart from a trail of water leading across the room and the three dead men on the floor, none of whom appeared to be armed, even though they had been when Lewis had seen them last Lewis moved quietly through the kitchen and checked the corridor beyond it with the Beretta raised to his shoulder. The corridor went both left and right from this door. To his right was James moving down the corridor with a Browning High Power in each hand. Lewis went left. There were three doorways. Only the furthest door was shut. Lewis moved quietly past the doors, much more quietly than James, whose wet clothes made silence hard. As he passed each door he checked inside each room. The corridor ahead of James open into a much larger space, the grand entrance hall of the house, he could see the corridor continuing towards the east wing on the opposite side of the hall. On his right were a pair of glazed doors opening into a dining room. He stepped into the hall and swept the scene with both pistols. A thick stone staircase rose from the left over his head, the railings of an upstairs landing round the whole way around the double height hall. James turned to the dining room, a sudden flicker of movement to his left and he rolled forward an instant before a blast tore great chunks of wood from the door frame inches away from him. James came out of the roll on his feet firing alternate shots with each gun, but he couldn’t see the target so kept his rate of fire low. Lewis heard the shotgun blast and spun to check James was ok, finding him gone from the corridor he had been in moments earlier. Another blast and a group of pistol shots as James returned fire. Since the shots had chewed up the doorway on the right the shooter must be on the left, towards the front of the house. The door that Lewis had not yet checked went into a room at the front of the house. He hurried through it and entered a drawing room or

Page | 19 1963 North Carolina daringfiction.com by David Lamb library, a set of highly decorated double doors was at the end of the room, leading out to the hall. A man was there with his back to Lewis, a man with a pistol by his side and his hand on the door handle. Perhaps he was waiting as he feared his buddy with the shotgun would blast him if he suddenly opened the door, or perhaps he was waiting to ambush James if he survived? The man’s preoccupation gave Lewis a momentary advantage. With his ingrained instinct to making as little sound as possible, Lewis removed his left hand from the front grip of the Berretta and drew his suppressed Ruger Standard. Lewis was naturally left-handed, he used the Beretta right-handed simply because it was designed to be used that way. The man became aware of Lewis as soon as he drew his pistol and was turning to face him when Lewis killed him with a single shot. Lewis immediately noticed a jade egg on display with other decorative oriental pieces. He grabbed it, opened the door a fraction and tossed the stone out. He heard a brief cry of distress as he had hoped. To anyone expecting an attack that would look horribly like a hand grenade. Whoever was out there must have broken cover for there was suddenly an enormous amount of shooting. All single shots, but they came very closely one after the other. Lewis quickly went through the doors and scanned the entrance hall with his sub machine gun. The grand front door was on the left, the main staircase climbed up to the right, and opposite were another pair of fine doors, presumably leading to another reception room like the one he was in. The stairs were built of stone rather than wood, so the man slumped at the bottom of them a couple of feet from his Remington 870 pump had indeed chosen a good bit of cover. Good job the fake grenade had driven him out into the open where he had been chewed up by James’ onslaught. James appeared from the right of the hall, both pistols smoking.

Page | 20 1963 North Carolina daringfiction.com by David Lamb “I don’t know which way Anderson went.” said James scanning the scene. “How many more are there?” asked Lewis. “I thought nine.” “We’ve had eleven so far.” replied Lewis. “Yeah, must have been some I hadn’t seen, or they hadn’t spoken about. Never seen that guy before.” said James indicating the fallen remains with a tilt of his head. “Doesn’t look like he went through the front.” said Lewis. The front door was closed, and he could see the bolts were in at the top. “Do you think he had time to get upstairs?” “Maybe.” replied James. The staircase had deep carpet held in place by traditional brass carpet rods. Stone stairs don’t creek and such deep carpet would muffle even running footsteps. “Split up?” suggested Lewis. James dropped the empty Brownings and picked up the shotgun, then checked the Colt forty-five was still tucked in the top of his trousers. “How many guns do you need James?” sighed Lewis “Depends how many are available.” The sound of breaking glass reached them from somewhere in the house. They looked around, trying to work out where the sound had come from. “Upstairs?” suggested James. “No.” Lewis was certain of that but not which end of the house the sound had come from. “That way.” James pointed towards the east side of the house. “Definitely.”

Page | 21 1963 North Carolina daringfiction.com by David Lamb Both of them moved back into the corridor that travelled the width of the house and set off east. As they came to each doorway off the corridor the one in the lead would swing into the room to cover it while the other ran past. They leapfrogged all the way down the corridor but saw nobody. Clearly most of Andersons men had either been outside or had moved quickly in response to the attack and so were already dead. Lewis was in the lead as they burst into the last room. Anderson was half through the broken window when he saw Lewis rushing for him, the Beretta sub-machine gun aimed unwaveringly at him. He cried out and fell through the window. His shorts became caught on the broken glass and it cut deep into the side of his thigh. He lay on the ground outside of the window struggling to stand. Lewis put his head through the broken window and aimed at Anderson. “Jesus Christ, it’s the other one as well!” exclaimed Anderson and fell over again. James ran past the window and Lewis further down the east wing of the building. He found a door that lead outside, and reasoning it was locked, or Anderson would have gone out through it, blasted the lock with the Remington. He wrenched the door open and stepped outside. Anderson turned to look as the door burst open and James emerged. He levelled a shotgun at him and pumped the action. Anderson stopped trying to stand and lay still. “You got me. You got me. I surrender.” cried Anderson, desperately holding up his hands. “We’re not here to arresting you.” said Lewis calmly. He sighted carefully at Andersons head. “Now hold on Lewis.” said James quickly approaching Anderson, the shotgun still raised. “I think Frank would like to speak with him.” Frank Steele

Page | 22 1963 North Carolina daringfiction.com by David Lamb was an old friend of theirs in the FBI, and it was him who had decided to ask his British contacts to handle this investigation. “He knows who we are. I mean who we really are.” said James “I wonder who told him that?” asked Lewis “Bet Frank would like to know that.” Frank had been right in his suspicion that Anderson had contacts inside the FBI who were leaking information. Someone had told Anderson who James and Lewis were, and what they were up to. Frank would not have told anyone who didn’t need to know about a British operation within the US, which meant the leak must have come from fairly high up. Anderson could expose a rather big mole, and that alone saved his life in Lewis’ eyes. “We should assume that someone has called the Police” said Lewis looking towards the road as if he expected to see squad cars racing towards them any moment. “With all the noise you’ve been making, they’re bound to have.” said James. Lewis gave him a long, silent, sideways look. Mocking his famed silent tactics was typical of James. James bent down to look at the wound on Andersons leg. “I don’t know why you don’t just set the house on fire and be done with it.” James smiled to himself as he checked for lumps of glass in Anderson’s wound. “James if we may return to the matter at hand.” said Lewis, not taking the bait. “We need to get him out of here, he’s bleeding, half naked and we can’t rule out the police arriving soon.” “And?” asked James looking more closely at the wound and knowing that Lewis had more to say on the matter. The wound had a couple of small bits of glass in it, but nothing that couldn’t wait. He gripped one of Andersons arms and nodded to Lewis.

Page | 23 1963 North Carolina daringfiction.com by David Lamb “Besides, I wasn’t making all the noise.” stated Lewis grabbing the other arm and helping Anderson to his feet. “You’ve used up five weapons; I haven’t reloaded either of mine yet.” James nodded slowly. “So, all the machine gun fire and explosions, that was somebody else then?” he asked innocently as they helped Anderson walk toward the parked cars. “We should keep an eye open for them. Probably the same person that was doing car jumps earlier.” Lewis said nothing. He liked James’ sense of humour, and found it comforting. It never changed despite whatever intense or exhausting events they might go through together. James was a good soldier, and good soldiers keep their spirits up under all circumstances. But Lewis did not know why James always had to do it by wind him up all the time. “Just admit it, my way is more fun.” said James, and devilish grin on his face. “No. My tactics are always suitable for the situation at the time.” “But it is more fun.” “It’s been a very productive afternoon.” conceded Lewis “Aha! An admission.” cried James triumphantly. He slapped Anderson on the shoulder. “You heard him. After all these years of creeping death, he finally comes round.” Andersons eyes shifted from Lewis on his left to James on his right throughout this exchange. His contact in the FBI had told him who these British agents were. He had said they were dangerous, but that had been an understatement. He had said they were a close team, and he had underestimated that as well. He had not mentioned that they argue like an old married couple.

Page | 24 1963 North Carolina daringfiction.com by David Lamb “I take it that your plan is if you destroy all the other 250 GTs in the world then yours will be worth more due to its rarity?” asked James who was now getting in to his teasing after what had been a long couple of days. Lewis sighed. “Destroying the car was an unfortunate event.” he said. “It certainly was. I’ve only had it four weeks.” injected Anderson. Lewis placed his Ruger Standard against Andersons head. “Keeping you alive is still optional.” he reminded him gently. “It was necessary for the plan to succeed.” Lewis said to James. “Was it part of the plan to blow me up and drown me?” James asked “Yes.” replied Lewis. “That was the most important part. Clearly, I have failed this time but I can always try again.” Both of them were relaxingThey owed each other far too much and had too much history together to have any real falling out. They had worked so closely for so many years that they didn’t have separate tactics anymore, only favourite tactics. Lewis had once sat trussed up in the corner of a command centre in a Russian chemical weapons plant while James using only garrotte and knife had overcome guards, locked doors, and crawled through airshafts, until dropping in the middle of the room. Admittedly James’ tactics became noisier after that as wiped them all out with a Kalashnikov, but until that point no one knew he was there. Lewis had been impressed. Many of the startled men had been impressed; briefly. Then there was the time Lewis burnt down an entire sixteenth century château, and the nearby stables, just to create enough confusion for James to kill a Brazilian naval attaché and frame another officer for it. Lewis was right: suitable tactics for the situation. Sometimes you sneak, sometimes you bring only devastation.

Page | 25 1963 North Carolina daringfiction.com by David Lamb The three of them approached the parked cars, two deep lines left in the gravel where Lewis had been spinning the Ferrari’s wheels. “Why don’t you get one of the cars started,” said James, “but try to resist the urge to do doughnuts.” “Wait here.” said Lewis and took the shotgun from James. He walked towards the side gate and shot the lock as he approached. “Don’t need to sneak now.” said Lewis over his shoulder as he went through the gate. The two men stood for a while. Anderson leg hurt badly, and he wanted to sit down. He started to sway, and James helped him to the ground. Anderson noticed there was a pistol in the top of James trousers. Perhaps he should grab it? “Why, so I can stick it in my mouth and blow my own head off?” Anderson decided any attempt would probably mean his death. He sat on the floor quietly. Lewis reappeared with the weapons he had hidden in the hut as well as the clothes Anderson had left in the changing room a couple of hours ago before his swim. “You utter bastard!” exclaimed James pointing at the two Beretta M12s that Lewis now carried. “What?” asked Lewis pretending to not know what James was talking about. “You stashed weapons here yesterday.” “Yes.” said Lewis with a shrug of his shoulder. “Could have let me have some.” said James, knowing full well that Lewis could not have done any such thing.

Page | 26 1963 North Carolina daringfiction.com by David Lamb Lewis tossed Anderson his clothes and moved towards the enormous gold coloured Imperial LeBaron Southampton sedan parked by the house. “Hang on!” exclaimed Anderson. Both of them turned to look at him. “You were here yesterday?” “Yes.” said Lewis. “But we only caught him yesterday.” said Anderson indicating his head towards James. “He followed your men.” said James nodding to Lewis. “They were frankly rather clumsy about checking that sort of thing.” “Very poor.” agreed Lewis. He got the car door open and slid into the driver’s seat. “Get dressed.” said James. The six-point eight litre V8 rumbled to life. Lewis reversed the car out while James helped Anderson pull his trousers up then put him in the back of the car. James sat in the front, with Anderson behind Lewis, who was driving. James kept the shotgun on his lap, pointed at the back corner of the car where Anderson sat. His hand rested over the trigger guard. Anderson found his eyes kept coming back to it, time and time again. About three miles from the house they passed three Police cars going the other way with their lights and sirens sounding. Neither James nor Lewis showed any reaction to the approaching cars. Lewis drove at the posted speed limit and both of them kept completely calm. Anderson thought he should do something; make the car swerve; try and open the door; anything. By the time he had thought of it the Police had sped past and it was too late. There was no escape.

Page | 27 1963 North Carolina daringfiction.com by David Lamb