Another Small Kingdom by James Green Read Free Book Online

be?’
    Bentley’s voice was flat and firm. He leant forward.
    â€˜A chest shot.’
    It was his final offer and Macleod knew it. It was Bentley’s turn to sit back and wait now. He, like Macleod, fully accepted that negotiations needed time to reach a conclusion satisfactory to both parties. The lawyer’s brain turned. If Darcy really was important to the American Government he couldn’t kill him. But was he important? He knew Bentley had powerful friends and not a few connections in or close to the Government. So far as he knew, Bentley had no personal or business reasons for protecting Darcy. But Darcy had to be stamped on. Perhaps Bentley’s suggestion had merit. Duels were frowned on now, and a killing, even an honour killing, could become a messy business if it became too public.
    â€˜It’ll only work if he shoots face on. It’s no good if he stands sideways to fire.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜Because if he’s standing face on when my ball goes into his chest it will either go through him or lodge and if he’s lucky it won’t cause any real problem. But if he’s side on it could go through the lung and maybe go on to hit his heart or some vital artery. I couldn’t say where it might finish nor that it wouldn’t be fatal.’
    Bentley considered.
    â€˜And there’s no way round that? Couldn’t you reduce the charge, lessen the penetration?’
    Macleod laughed dismissively.
    â€˜Have you forgotten everything you were ever taught in the army, man? If I reduce the charge enough to do that it would mean loss of accuracy, and if the ball strayed it might go anywhere. Hell, it might hit him on that thick head of his and bounce off and then the fool might even get a shot at me. No, the only sure way is for him to stand face on. Do you know if he has fought a duel with pistols before?’
    Bentley shook his head.
    â€˜No, but I would doubt very strongly that he has.’
    â€˜Then he’ll almost certainly stand side on, it’s the natural stance for shooting. Only duellists stand front on. If they get hit they want the ball to lodge or go through.’
    â€˜And if he stood face on you could do it, for sure?’
    Macleod threw the blanket off his legs and kicked the footstool to one side. He pulled off his night-cap, threw it down onto the blanket and stood up.
    â€˜Come, I’ll let you judge for yourself.’
    Macleod picked up the lamp from the table and led the way out of the library. They went through a door under the main staircase and down some stone steps. Below the house was a large cellar that had once been, among other things, the wine store, but now had been converted into a shooting gallery. Macleod put the lamp on a table, took off his dressing gown and hung it on a hook in the wall, lit a taper, then walked around the cellar lighting lamps set on the walls. He returned to the table and began to prepare a pistol. He nodded to a box on the table amongst the bits and pieces. It was about six inches by four and two inches deep. It contained flints.
    â€˜Empty that box and take it down to the other end of the gallery.’
    Bentley looked at the box then at Macleod.
    â€˜What for?’
    â€˜This is business, Bentley, so think like a businessman. If I tell you I can hit Darcy in the chest and not kill him, are you just going to take my unsupported word for it?’
    Bentley understood Macleod’s point.
    â€˜I guess not.’
    They both knew there was only one way to be sure.
    â€˜Then take the box.’
    Bentley picked up the box, emptied out the flints, then walked slowly down the gallery. When he turned, the distance between them was about the same as in a duel and Lawyer Macleod was already pointing his pistol at him. Bentley felt a cold sweat form on his brow. No one knew of his visit to Macleod’s house and Macleod had already guessed that was the case. There was no one in the house except