Chapter Four

Chapter Four 

"Yes. Yes. That's absolutely right." Jules is pleasantly surprised.

Jasper Grant's stare is unwavering, just clinical and unreadable. The man's feline almond eyes piercing through mine, have no trace of known ground—it's all uncharted territory. If it could all go down now, I can't afford any stumble. It all has to end on my terms. 

"You know, mademoiselle Michelle, for all his gracelessness, Jasper has quite the sharp mind. Well versed in history and the humanities. It might interest you to know that he once had a brilliant career as a lawyer. He rather got his mother's brains," Jules blurts, chuckling. There's no stopping him, when he breaks into his unending flight of thoughts. 

Apparently irritated at being the subject of discussion, Jasper Grant looks away to the incoming waiters with trays of food. On seeing the food trays, Jules gives a jubilatory clap.

"Isn't that lovel—" The left lens of Jules's glasses explodes, his head snaps back and blood spurts from his left eye. Two more snaps and small explosions on our table, and the restaurant is in mayhem. Food trays crash on the floor, chairs and tables scraping, eaters screaming and trying to flee the restaurant. I crawl under the table drawing my pistol, and slink away looking for another way to safely escape the restaurant. 

People dashing to the entrance clash with gunmen, a score of them. The gunmen run amok among the unfortunate people who collided with them, clearing a wide berth for themselves. The waiters that clustered around Jules earlier are now armed and return fire with the gunmen. Our table is empty, except for Jules slumped and bloody on his chair. Where's Jasper Grant? I try to make my way deeper into the place, possibly to the kitchens, the backdoors or somewhere else to find some way out. Then I spot Jasper Grant, heading for a corner and shielded by a group of panicked people. 

He moves purposefully; he probably knows a way out, so I follow him. Jasper Grant has already disappeared through the corner and I run after him. There's a closed door at the end of the corridor, he must have passed through it. It opens into two stair ways, one running up and the other leading down. And there is no trace of the man nor noise of his footsteps that will betray his tracks. How fast could he be going?

Through a small window pane, I see dark armed figures outside, noiselessly rounding this part of the building. This is a calculated attack. They are here for someone, or some people—they shot at our table first. Jules now slumps lifeless, it had to be a sniper. Maybe it's Jasper Grant next, or even both of us. I need to find Jasper Grant, he's the key to escaping this. And the windows, I must keep off the windows; the sniper's still out there.

I take the stairs up; Jasper Grant would take the higher ground and not go straight down into the hands of the attackers. The entrance of what looks like an apartment is ajar. I move in with my pistol leading the way. No one appears to be in it, but I'm just in the living room. It is a lavish, classically decorated room; with all sorts of romantic paintings, sculptures, vintage furniture, a grand piano and well illuminated just like every other part of the restaurant. This room must have belonged to Jules. 

There is a crash somewhere in the apartment and I follow it. There are three men in violent tussle. Two of the men are armed and padded like the other gunmen. They are too busily engaged with the vicious, powerful third man in the narrow space to use their rifles. The third man is Jasper Grant. One of the men drops down, beaten unconscious, and the other man receives the undivided pummeling of Jasper Grant. 

A new gunman appears at the doorway across Jasper Grant and his victim. And he points his gun at Jasper without hesitation. No. Jasper Grant can't die. Not now. I shoot the gunman down. At the sound of the shot, both men struggling notice me. The man being beaten by Jasper Grant, barely standing, pays the price for his brief lapse of alertness. He gets stabbed in the jugular. 

Jasper Grant stares darkly at me, his eyes on the gun still raised. The window glass shatters and a bullet catches Jasper Grant on the right arm. We crawl down immediately and his blood seeps into his sleeve. 

"Where's the way out?” I ask him.

"There's no way out, we go down." He groans, holding his arm. 

"There's a basement that we can find through the kitchen. It should lead outside, if I know Jules." 

The bleeding is getting worse. I tear off his left sleeve and tie it tightly above the gunshot wound, hoping that it slows the bleeding.

"Then let's get on with it," I say to him. His expression is still hard, but his eyes don't have the venom in them anymore. I pick my gun and we crawl below the window. We worm our way through the apartment until we find Jules' legendary kitchen. 

It's more like a laboratory than a kitchen. There's no culinary material we can see, every surface clean and everything well packed. I give Jasper Grant a quizzing look, he doesn't make any response and starts silently searching. His arm still bleeds and he holds it limply. We go around the kitchen floor looking for signs of the hidden basement. While we are bent over the floor, two gunmen find us and break into the kitchen. 

I dash for the man nearer to me. Hugging him, I strike him hard on the neck with the butt of my gun and using him as a shield, I shoot the other. He tries to clutch at his neck and struggles to get rid of me, but then I finish him off. More men come hurrying into the kitchen and firing. Then a cabinet explodes, I'm covered in a wave of heat and thrown bodily into air.

I crash on the floor and the air is knocked out of my lungs. Everything hurts, my head is threatening to explode and my ears are filled with a sharp ringing. Surely I didn't die? Through the haze a man stands over me; Jasper Grant holding my gun with his bleeding arm. He wears his grim snarl. His eyes lit by the burning room are victorious.

So this is it, this is how fate wrote it to be. My father died in the hands of a Grant and I am to die in the hands of another. All the years I've only been alive to kill Jasper Grant. But here now is the irony: he kills me. 

"Do it! You son of a bitch! What are you waiting for? Just do it!" 

"What are you talking about?" Jasper Grant extends his uninjured arm.

"Let's get out of here."