TWENTY-SEVEN
THE DUCHESS REVEALED
A limp voice emanated from central Europe. ‘Jack, who the f**k is the Duchess?’
Jack picked up the Kalashnikov, left the sash window and crunched his way across the Mediterranean to Della; everyone ducked. If you did not know that Jack was like a monkey when he held a gun, then your second sense of self preservation would have informed you to take cover. ‘Whoa,’ Jack exclaimed, surprised as the gun began automatically spitting bullets. Jack fell back with recoiling force and that did it for Nelson and his fleet. It was Pimple, who had become a man in the past few days, in more ways than one, who took the gun from Jack and lobbed it out the enormous gaping hole that was the window and as the gun hit the garden terrace below, so it began spitting more bul
