TONY WRIGHT’S RECEIVER had gone dead at twenty minutes to two that afternoon. It could, of course, have been a malfunction but he had to assume the worst. His fears had been realized shortly after when the security around the estate suddenly intensified, and he had only just managed to make his escape.
Now, on his return under cover of darkness, he patrolled the perimeter and reluctantly concluded that it would be impossible to penetrate the estate without being observed. The surveillance equipment in evidence and the many security guards with dogs had negated even his considerable skills. Further, there was a full moon to complicate things even more.
Regaining his position in the small copse of trees that had been his vantage point that afternoon he looked at his watch which showed that in less than an hour, it would be midnight. Crouching down, he felt that he had little choice but to contact SAS headquarters in England for further instructions. In his heart, he knew though that there was little anyone could do to help Lechaim. The estate was Church property and, further, it was situated on foreign soil so the SAS, other than covertly, would not be able to assist.
Frustrated, after hours of waiting, he had just decided to break cover when he saw the Villa illuminate as lights started coming on everywhere. Could it be that the building was being searched? If so, it might well mean that they were searching for Lechaim which meant that he was still alive. Some minutes passed by and then the sound of gunfire cut the air. Suddenly the building was thrown into darkness and Tony brought his night glasses to his eyes to see what was going on. The blackened windows of the building were being lit up in places by flashes as muzzles discharged, and he could hear the familiar sound of the automatics as they spat staccato and prolonged bursts. Lights started to appear again in some windows but were immediately extinguished as the battle raged within.
From where he was located, Tony Wright knew that he could do nothing to intervene. His trusty SIG-Sauer P226 pistol would be no match for such firepower. It left him with little choice but to wait out the drama. It ate at him though that he was powerless to help his friend, who, he guessed, was at the heart of the firestorm. Dogs could be heard barking and men shouting as the struggle raged for ten or so minutes before the Villa and its surroundings fell silent.
Hesitating no longer, Tony drew his gun and ran down to, and then along the electrified fence to the main entrance. Security guards at the gate were no longer in evidence and he started in, the sound of police sirens in the distance warning him that he did not have much time. Then he pulled up as he saw a figure coming towards him out of the swirling ground mist.
“Lechaim! Are you all right?” Tony asked anxiously when the men met. Lechaim was completely naked, his body covered in blood from head to foot.
Lechaim seemed to Tony’s ears, oddly detached as he replied. “Yes! Why shouldn’t I be?”
“What have you got there?” Tony asked as his attention turned to the two plastic bags Lechaim was carrying in each hand.
“Just some souvenirs of the newly departed!”
Tony reeled back in horror as Lechaim opened one for him, exposing its contents of body parts.