They came for us that night.
I assumed position and waited. It was raining with the wind from the west. I stood there, back against the stone wall, easing the fingers of my hand round the hilt of my knife.
The elderly man was indoors. Double-barrelled shotgun waiting. He had found enough cartridges to fire one shot. I told him to be sure he didn't point it at me.
After fifteen minutes, they showed. I heard the gentle scuff of footsteps as they approached from the sea.
The leading intruder gave a cough of agony as the door slammed, honestly, as I later established into his face. I wasn't so successful with the next guy. He possessed sharp reactions and had tiptoed over the threshold as I swung a fist to reach him.
I caught him on his back or shoulder; and dropped on top of him. In one of his palms, he'd have either a shotgun or dagger. Had I wasted a fraction of a second trying to find out I'd be dead? I grabbed a handful of his hair and slammed his forehead into the hard floor until he lay still.
The third intruder sprinted away.
I called to the elderly fellow, and he strode forward and handed me the weapon. I lingered before I went out into the torrent.
A spark lanced out of a pistol. A silent flash. He'd a silencer. Bullets ricocheted off the masonry walls but missed me.
"You'll need this," resounded from within the residence.
He offered me a torch.
I held it in place to the barrel with my thumb. Using the intense narrow shaft of light. I squeezed the trigger of the weapon. The recoil almost broke my shoulder. His face disintegrated.
The impact lifted him off his feet and into the air a few yards. He crashed onto the beach with a sickening thud.
I rushed to the causeway to where their small boat rested moored and pulled it up the bank to make sure it did not slither into the surf. I assumed his silenced gun and returned to the shack.
The elderly man remained on guard. I didn't recognise our captive. That wasn't surprising. His own mother or wife couldn't have succeeded.
I passed over the pistol.
"Keep this on him," I suggested.
The old man peered, confused. His face behind his beard was pale.
"If he breathes, kill him."
"His friend? We can't leave him?"
"You look at this."
I stooped and gathered the shotgun, which fell from the other man's grip.
"The weapon has the barrel sawn off, along with the stock."
"And the other one?"
I crouched and felt for the pulse at the neck. There wasn't any.
I walked to the water with the torch. Hooding it with my palm, so the beam remained hidden.
The rubber skiff had an outboard motor attached.
The conquering heroes, bathed in that warm and noble glow of satisfaction that comes from the comforting realisation of a worthwhile job well executed.
Intended to make it home the straightforward way.
I had the dinghy onto the causeway, examining it in the torch's light. Apart from the manufacturer's name, there was no mark on it, nothing to show to which craft it belonged.
On my arrival, the old guy and our captive had reversed positions. The Russian on his feet now leaned against the side. With a blood-stained towel, he dabbed his face. Moaning.
I didn't blame him. If I had a broken nose, most of my front teeth displaced, and my jaw fractured, I'd moan. The elderly fellow sat in his cane armchair, contemplating my handiwork. He glanced at me on my arrival. Nodded towards the prisoner.
"Made a fearful mess of my floor," he complained. "Mary will go berserk. What do we do with him?"
"Palm him over to Sergeant Fitzgerald."
"Am I coming with you?"
"I'm not leaving you here. I'll bring you back with your wife."
"Do you realise where she is?"
"Not yet," I retorted. "Have you got a rope with which I can tie this part of shit?"
"Yes, flex. That do?"
"Perfect."
He returned with a roll of P.V.C. electric wiring cable. I cut two ten-foot lengths. Tied our prisoner's fists and feet, with the first part. Then, together with the next.
We shuffled him out, where the gust and rainfall had increased, and dumped him without ceremony into the skiff. The mature fellow and I followed.
We drove off across the swell, away from the rock.
"Will they show up back here?"
"Not yet," I acknowledged. "Not for a while. They'll wait until their friends return. They may think it took them longer than expected to reach your island in this weather."
"Let's hope so." The old man responded. "For Mary's sake."