Page 47 of Hawk on the Hunt

Fox tuned out the low grumbling coming from Bancroft and examined the bomb further, while he kept an eye on the countdown. Sixteen minutes to go till detonation.

“Can’t you just take the bomb and toss it out into the river?” Yankee asked.

“I could, if only it hadn’t been bolted down to the concrete floor of the fireplace. Somebody thought of everything.” He shifted to get a better look at the back side of the device. “But maybe I can take off the casing to get to the inside.”

“Do that,” Yankee encouraged him.

It was easier said than done. While two of the screws that held the device together were located on the front, and thus easily accessible, from what he could see, the others were located in the back at an angle that was difficult to reach with a regular screwdriver. He had to improvise. The two screws on the front were easy to loosen, but even when he removed them, the casing still held together.

“I need a dime,” Fox said with a glance over his shoulder.

“A dime?”

“Yeah, so I can turn the screws on the back, and hopefully remove the casing in one piece.”

He watched as Yankee dug into his pockets, before shaking his head. “Don’t have any.” He glanced at Bancroft. “You keep change somewhere?”

“Yeah,” Bancroft said, pointing across the room, where a built-in cabinet housed various porcelain statues and carvings. “There’s a bowl in the middle drawer. I’ll get it for you.”

He already jumped up, but Yankee pushed him back into the cushions. “I’ll get it. You stay put. For all I know you keep a gun in there.”

Yankee turned his back to Bancroft and hurried to the cabinet. Fox glanced back at the timer on the bomb. “Fourteen minutes.”

He heard Yankee pull at the drawer. “Fuck, it’s locked.”

Alarmed, Fox looked over his shoulder again, only to see a rapid movement from the corner of his eye. In his crouching position it took him an extra second to jump up and fully turn only to see that Bancroft had gotten up from the couch. He was now wielding a putter and swung it toward the approaching Yankee, hitting him in the side, making him crash into the coffee table.

“Fuck!” Fox cursed, and rushed toward Bancroft, while Yankee recovered from the unexpected attack and rose a couple of seconds later.

“Asshole,” Yankee yelled and charged toward Bancroft from the other side, giving the bastard only one path toward the door. “Now I’m really gonna hurt you.”

Tossing his golf club behind him as an obstacle for his pursuers, Bancroft rushed toward the door. He was only a few feet away from it, when his right leg suddenly kicked forward and upward, making him lose his balance. A golf ball hit the wall and bounced back. A panicked gasp burst from his lips as he used his arms as if they were rudders—to no avail. They didn’t find purchase anywhere. Instead, his body twisted to the side, and as he tumbled backwards and released a desperate yelp, his head hit the corner of the iron-and-glass sideboard. The decorative figures on the glass surface fell over, and the glass cracked, while Bancroft landed on the wooden floor.

Yankee was at his side a second before Fox. Bancroft didn’t move. Yankee put his fingers to his neck, but Fox didn’t need to wait for him to check for a pulse. Blood was already pooling on the wooden floor.

Yankee removed his fingers from Bancroft’s neck. “He’s dead.”

“Never realized how dangerous golf can be,” Fox mused with a shrug. “Serves him right. It’s not like he doesn’t deserve it.”

“My sentiments exactly,” Yankee agreed.

“No point in diffusing the bomb now. We might as well have the whole place go up in smoke. Saves us from having to deal with the body. What do you say?”

“What are we still doing here?”

Together, they rushed to get out of the house, then walked back to their vehicle at normal speed in case any neighbors were watching. Luckily, Bancroft’s house was located around a curve of the road, making it practically impossible for any neighbors to see who was coming and going. They hopped into the van and drove off.

Yankee stuck to the 25-mile speed limit in the residential neighborhood, while Fox looked at his watch. Any moment now, the bomb would go off.

A loud boom interrupted the silence in the car. Fox looked into the side mirror and saw a plume of smoke rise over the trees and bushes where Bancroft’s house had stood.

“Well, better call the mansion to let them know that we’re okay,” Fox said and pulled out his cell phone.

“And that Bancroft is taken care of,” Yankee added. “And we didn’t even have to get our hands dirty.”

“It’s a win-win.” The call connected, and Fox heard Michelle’s voice on the other line. “Hey, babe. Yankee and I are on our way back.”

“And Bancroft? Did you get him?” she asked eagerly.