The Pursuit of Emma - Dave Moyer (top business books of all time .txt) 📗

people put up with it.

I remember the third hitting my chest and completely winding me. I recall feeling sick and wondering at first whether it had pierced the vest and indeed, my body. I don’t know if it was the impact or the stress of the situation but it really did fade to black and I did pass-out. I have since heard that this is not uncommon and I am not a complete pansy.

Perhaps a few people would like clarification of what exactly happened and I will do my best to clear it up for you. We realised from the off that the Kozlovs would turn on us. It’s in their nature and the only way we could beat them was to plan for it and work out a way around it.

When we had headed back to the apartment I had discussed a plan with Jack. Yes, you may have guessed that Jack was one of the policemen shooting at us. In fact, Jack was the idiot who shot me in the arm. Nobhead! But I am getting ahead of myself.

Jack came round to the apartment quickly, having managed to get hold of some vests (of the bullet-proof variety). They were a pretty tight fit but it was important you couldn’t see it under our clothes. With my black jacket on you would never have been able to tell. If anything, I looked like I was bulking up. We had pulled off the ‘fifth vase job’ (I’ll come up with a better name later) wearing these vests and, after a while, you get used to it. They are incredibly thin nowadays and most people wear them hoping they won’t be hit (unlike us).

Straight away we had headed out to do the job and Jack had gone to work, readying himself. We had given him the address of the warehouse and arranged that he had to be there at exactly five minutes past twelve. Jack already had a police car, and knew people in London where he could get the vests from, but he didn’t want to involve anyone else in our business. We had to make it appear that the police were involved but if the real police turned up, Emma and I were going to be questioned...and those answers would definitely lead to long jail sentences. The idea was for Jack to come alone.

I wasn’t happy about it, but he insisted. It was incredibly dangerous but Jack had at least been allowed time to get the full bullet-proof clothing on and plan what guns to use. He was good at his job and he was pretty certain he would be fine. I hoped he knew what he was doing. Jack had wanted to help as much as possible from the beginning and I had managed to restrict his involvement to an administrative role so far. This time I couldn't help but admit I needed his assistance.

What happened next I've only learnt since the event; Jack had to fill me in on the details. He'd decided to use our old apartment as a base as it was nearer to the warehouse and he knew where it was. I gave him a set of keys and sent him on his way.

I don’t know whether he'd planned it, or if it just came to him on the spot, but Jack decided he needed another police officer. On the surface it would look more realistic; how many policemen turn up to a shoot-out with the Kozlovs alone? At least with two it would look a little more realistic. But who could he ask? There was no way he was going to endanger Rachel; she wasn’t with him anyway and was still oblivious to the fact that he was even involved. Rach didn’t even know the Kozlovs existed and Jack would have had no time to bring her up to speed. As much as she loved me, there is no way she would have allowed Jack to do it. The only way for us to succeed was for her to be left in the dark.

So who did that leave? The only people he knew in London were Emma, me and a few police officers. I'd already made him swear not to involve any other members of the law for reasons we have already discussed; we just couldn’t risk it.

It must have happened by chance but as he walked into our apartment building he found his second ‘police officer’. Any ideas? I realise that I can’t hear what you're saying but I like to assume that people reading this are of a decent level of intellect (not that the book requires it).

It was Sophie. By all accounts she bumped into Jack as he entered the building and instantly recognised him. We had spent several enjoyable evenings drinking and eating far too much in the company of Jack, Rachel, Sophie and occasionally her scumbag ex-boyfriend. I would go as far as to say Jack and Sophie were friends.

Sophie had been worried about us and in particular, me. Seeing Jack spurred her into question-mode. He had tried to palm her off with a few non-committal answers but she wasn’t having any of it and before he knew it, they were sharing a cup of tea and discussing my plight. I think Jack must have been worried about what he was going to have to do (why wouldn’t he?). Sophie has a calm, soothing effect on everyone and Jack soon found himself spilling out everything to her. He understood she already knew some of it and the pressure of hiding everything from Rachel must have been enormous. I don’t blame him. But what happened next was unexpected, even for him.

As Jack turned to leave, Sophie stood, drew up all her strength and informed him that, in no uncertain terms, she would be accompanying him and helping out. I can imagine Jack protesting forcefully but I knew the inner-strength Sophie had and after compromising to certain rules, she was on board. I would have paid to see Jack’s face as he realised he was running out of time and would have to take her.

Sophie was given a gun with blank bullets in it. The whole plan fell down if I wasn’t shot neatly in the abdomen and as much as I loved Sophie, I wouldn’t trust her shooting as far as I could throw her. In fact, I think I would be more accurate throwing a person at a target than Sophie would be with a gun.

Jack wanted to look after her and covered her in all manner of protective clothing. She was bulked out so much wearing two bullet-proof vests as well as a helmet, and all the time she was positioned behind Jack. He was covered in protective clothing and unlike Sophie, he was incredibly accurate with a weapon (normally). He would be doing the shooting and Sophie would only be there to look like reinforcements.

So that was how we set up our escape. Jack arrived a tiny bit late but played his part perfectly. Sophie was forced out of the car into a safe position behind him and he used his training to keep the Kozlovs at bay. His movement was incredible; never staying in the same place for too long, never showing himself for more than a few seconds. It was a pretty good plan, if I say so myself and whilst a better mind might have been able to come up with a safer way to extricate ourselves, it worked and we are still alive.

You might ask how we could trust that Jack would hit us perfectly. Well the truth is, that’s all we could do. We were definitely going to die if we didn’t try this so anything was better than nothing. Also, I trusted Jack more than anyone and if he said he could do it, I believed him. Emma went first. This was deliberate. The Kozlovs may have hated me but it was Emma who they had the real problem with. If she was seen to be dead, they would care less about a guy like me. In a way, knowing what I had put myself through to save her, they would almost feel sympathy for what I had lost (if they had hearts that is).

I had to watch whilst Emma walked out, knowing she was about to take a bullet. She played her part to perfection and ignored all the shouting. This added a dramatic touch to it as if she had some great plan which ultimately failed. That is the kind of thing a girl like Emma would have done, if the police car had been a real one. I watched carefully and saw the bullet hit her midriff. I knew she would be fine, but if I hadn’t, her performance would have convinced me otherwise. Something told me she had done this before.

Then eventually it was my turn. I felt a little better knowing Jack had done it perfectly once but this time it would be harder. I had to pretend this officer had just killed my wife. I had to be angry and I would want revenge. So, using two guns, I charged at the car, making sure to aim the bullets well away from where I knew the two passengers to be. Maybe it was the distraction of me firing at him but Jack misaimed slightly. The first bullet lodged itself deep into my arm.

I will never be able to describe the pain I felt. Not at the time, but as I came to. There was a bullet (an actual bullet) in my arm and I had lost a considerable amount of blood. I don’t remember much about how it felt but I think the overriding feeling I had was shock. Your brain cannot comprehend what has just happened, which is why in movies the bad guy always looks down at his wound, completely shell-shocked. I remember thinking, ‘this isn’t part of the plan,’ but I was so determined to finish my role that I marched on and allowed Jack a second and third attempt. Those were much better placed, although I would have a couple of dark bruises for weeks to come.

So as I lay, slowing losing a full round of pints out of my arm, I felt nothing but peace. I hoped it wasn’t because I was dying of blood-loss but more because, if it looked as convincing as I had thought, Emma and I were free.

‘But what happened next?’ I hear you cry. I must stop talking to the audience, I realise just how annoying it can be.

Things worked out better than one could have imagined. Jack used his incredible foresight to call in the van’s registration number before the shooting had begun. As the third bullet sunk into my vest, the van began moving and the Kozlovs had made a break for it. The police had been given this head-start by Jack and were in position to capture them, less than half a mile away. Jack followed on and was on sight at the arrest. Sophie stayed and helped Emma up, whilst phoning an ambulance for me.

Jack had taken the police car away and Sophie changed out of her clothes to look just like a passerby. Emma didn’t want to leave but couldn’t be caught up in any of this and so she disappeared and headed to the hospital, waiting for my arrival. Sophie would just pose as someone who heard the noise and phoned an ambulance. She disappeared when the paramedics were busying themselves with me, taking the vest she had slipped off me. To anyone I would just look like a guy who got caught up with the Kozlovs. I would profess innocence and ignorance and be released as soon as my arm had stopped leaking.

So things worked out pretty great. Emma disappeared and was back to being Emma Sharpe. There was no evidence on her and she was completely