Stone Rage

by J. D. Weston

  "You're considering running."

  "No, I'm not, honest I-"

  "Yeah, you are. I saw you looking about."

  "I didn't, I weren't-"

  Harvey fired a round into the man's foot. "No running."

  The man fell to the ground with an inaudible whimper.

  "Reg, tie this one up." Harvey walked back to the driver. "Up." The man struggled to roll over with bound hands, so Harvey leaned down, grabbed his collar and gave him a yank to help him stand. "In the back."

  Once Ginger had been loaded up, Melody climbed into the passenger seat, and Harvey sat on top of the two men. He pulled the door closed. "Gerry says go," said Harvey, reminding the team not to use his real name. "ETA?" he called.

  "Less than five minutes out."

  He tapped Reg on the shoulder. "Show me the exits, mate," said Harvey, keeping the use of names out of the conversation. "And good work back there, nice and quick."

  Reg turned smiling, and said, "Thanks, Ha-"

  "Exits," said Harvey, warning Reg not to use his name.

  "Here we are," said Reg, diverting his sentence. "One main gate at the front, a smaller gate at the side in a quiet street, and nothing at the back except a high wall and the canal. The satellite is live, so I've scrolled back a few hours and found this daylight shot from earlier."

  Harvey memorised the layout of the site. It looked to be fairly large, maybe a few acres, with a group of three buildings in one corner. There were heaps of scrap metal, white goods and piles of randomly assorted recycling shown on the satellite imagery.

  "Okay, driver, side entrance please."

  "I'm coming with you," said Melody.

  Harvey didn't reply.

  "You hear me, Gerry?"

  Harvey was tightening his laces. "You're taking these two in."

  "You can't go alone, Gerry."

  "One minute," said Jackson.

  "Track me, follow me, do what you need to do. I'll let you know if I need help."

  "And how do you plan on doing that?"

  Harvey nudged Reg again. "Got an earpiece?"

  Reg passed Harvey an earpiece from a small bag on his bench. Harvey removed the hygiene wrapper and slotted it into his ear. He hit the tiny button twice for the channel to stay open without the need for the push-to-talk. "Take these guys in. Come back for me," said Harvey, looking Melody in the eye to reassure her without embarrassing her. "Driver, what's the ETA on HQ and back?"

  "Forty minutes, including drop off time."

  "I'll be out in thirty-five. If I'm not, come looking for me."

  "Ten seconds," said Jackson.

  Harvey banged his Sig lightly on the head of one of the men beneath him. "While I'm gone, I'd like one of you to do me a favour." He spoke slowly and clearly. "I want you to tell these nice people where I can find John Cartwright." One of the men struggled as the van came to a stop. Harvey nodded for Reg to open the rear door. "Because I promise you, if you wait for me to get back and I have to ask you, it's going to hurt a lot more, and for a lot longer. Is that understood?"

  No reply.

  Harvey bent down between the men's heads and offered a growling whisper. "I said, is that understood?"

  The men waited for a few seconds then both nodded.

  Harvey stepped off the back of the van and reached up to close the door. He caught Melody turning in her seat, watching him with worry in her eyes.

  He winked and closed the door, then turned and stepped into the waiting open gate.

  Reg opened the sliding shutter doors of the team's headquarters using LUCY's console. Jackson pulled the van in and the shutters slid back in place.

  Melody opened the van's sliding side door and spoke to the two men. "Out."

  "What are we going to do with them?" asked Reg.

  "Find me some handcuffs, Reg," replied Melody. "Come on, you two. Out."

  The two villains slid backwards out the van and stood.

  "Where are we?" asked Ginger.

  "No questions, just move. See that column over there?"

  A steel girder supported the mezzanine floor. It was bolted top and bottom.

  "I'm sure you know the drill. Stand with your backs to the beam," ordered Melody.

  Reg returned with two sets of handcuffs from Melody's filing cabinet. Melody raised the MP5 to her shoulder and aimed at the two men. "Okay, cut the ties, and cuff them back to back around the column."

  "No problem, I've been tying people up all night," said Reg.

  "Driver?" called Melody. "Can you cover these two while I get some ammo?"

  Jackson walked over to Melody, took the MP5, and placed the butt into Ginger's shoulder.

  "You've fired one of these before. That looks natural."

  "I've been known to help out here and there," said Jackson with a smile.

  "Good to know. Make sure those cuffs are tight and uncomfortable."

  The team were ready in under five minutes.

  "Okay, you two, Ginger, wasn't it? And what's your name?"

  The man didn't reply.

  "You want to tell me where we can find John Cartwright?"

  "Not really, miss," said Ginger.

  "It'd work in your favour if you did."

  "Is that right? I'd have my throat slit, and even if I went away, he'd get me on the inside. I'm not telling you nothing."

  "Well, I'll tell you right now, this is the easy option. If you talk, I can get you in witness protection. Nobody can find you."

  "Yeah right, you don't know John Cartwright."

  "Oh, believe me, we know John Cartwright better than anyone."

  "No, save your breath, lady. You've got twenty-four hours to charge me, and I want my legal rep if you do."

  Melody laughed. "Honestly, look at us. You really think that conventional rules apply here? You two aren't who we're after. You're small fry, not worth the paperwork. The number of men Gerry put down tonight, two more wouldn't make a difference. So your options are simple. Talk to me, or Gerry will make you talk."

  "You talk like he's some sort of legend. Who is he? Ex-SAS or something?"

  Melody laughed again. "No, but you're right, he is a legend." Melody stood and turned to walk away. "But I'll tell you this, Ginger."

  Ginger looked up at Melody. "What? Tell me what? He's going to pull my fingernails out?"

  "Fingernails? No." She walked back to him and looked him in the eye. "If you don't tell Gerry where we can find Cartwright, he won't stop at you. He'll find your family."

  "Behave. He wouldn't be allowed, he-"

  "Who do you think he is, you idiot? He's not police, he's one of you. He's a villain, a lifelong villain. He's been killing people since he was twelve years old, and he's pretty good at it. Piss him off, go on, I dare you. I guarantee he'll bring your wife here and let you watch him."

  "You're talking out of your arse, bitch. No cops can do that."

  Melody laughed. "We're not cops. We don't exist. Look at where you are. Not very nick-like is it? Wake up, Ginger. You're in for a rough ride, and your ticket to surviving is slipping away."

  Melody turned to Reg. "Can you stay here and keep an eye on these two? Any problems, use your weapon."

  "Me? But I-"

  "Keep calm. They can't go anywhere, but better safe than sorry. Besides, we need you on LUCY."

  Reg looked slightly dejected. "Okay, I guess."

  "Driver, we ready to go?"

  "Let's do it."

  Melody spoke softly into the comms. "Gerry, no need to reply, but our ETA is..." She looked at Jackson who mimed fifteen minutes. "Fifteen minutes. That's one-five minutes. Click three times if you need something."

  Jackson put the van into reverse and pulled out the unit. Ginger's eyes met Melody's as she disappeared from view.

  "That was impressive," said Jackson. "Powerful."

  "That was desperate, Jackson."

  Jackson put the van into first and pulled away as the sliding shutters closed. "How do you mean?"

&
nbsp; "If they don't talk to Harvey, he'll rip them to shreds. I was trying to save their lives."

  13

  Red Herring

  Harvey surveyed the dark recycling plant in front of him. The satellite image he'd seen on Reg's screen mapped the scene out for him. The three buildings were in the far right-hand corner, and there was no sign of movement. Harvey took a path around the edge of the plot alongside the high wall, keeping to the shadows and moving slow, always listening and watching. It was during these times that Harvey's mind was most alive, like a Neolithic man walking through the African bush, always alert for dangers, always having an escape route, and most of all, always having a plan.

  The few times he had to cross open land, he encountered no trouble. The lack of security told him two things. Firstly, Duri was not expecting to be followed or tracked, and secondly, the site had limited men. The scrapyard had been full of men. He and Adeo had taken a lot of them down. Now Harvey just needed a plan to tear his way through the rest of them.

  He came upon the buildings. They were laid out in a large L-shape, with the third building far longer than the rest. Harvey supposed this to be the offices. The other two structures were smaller, ten metres by twenty, Harvey thought. He stood between the outer wall of the compound and the first small building. It smelled damp, and the windows were opaque with wire mesh. Harvey took a guess that this was the toilet and shower block. The next building had lights on in one of the rooms. Harvey stepped slowly up to see in, but the room was empty. It was a small office for a two people. Two old telephones stood on two old desks, with two battered old chairs behind them.

  There were no nude calendars, no empty bottles of vodka and no overspilling ashtrays. He felt around the window. It was locked. The area was fairly rough, so security would be quite high. Yet the gate had been left open, possibly because of the speed at which they were travelling, and possibly because they weren't planning on staying long.

  He heard footsteps on the boarded floor inside. Heavy boots. A door slammed shut somewhere, and men's voices vibrated through the thin walls, but Harvey couldn't understand the language.

  At least two, Duri and one other.

  Then Harvey heard voices from outside. Two more. The tone of the first on the inside suggested hierarchy. One was sharper and shorter, the other more appeasing. The two voices around the corner sounded more conversational, equals.

  Harvey chanced a glance around the corner. Two men stood smoking. An AK-74 leaned against the wall behind one of them. The other had one hand in his pocket. They were relaxed, confident that nobody would come. One of the two men took a casual look around him. Harvey ducked his head back and heard the men walk away. He watched them disappear into the middle of the yard, then turn behind a pile of white goods.

  Harvey followed.

  He stepped quietly onto patches of dry mud, around puddles and through muddy tyre tracks. It was pitch dark in the yard, and Harvey could hear nothing.

  Until the lights came on.

  Two powerful spotlights atop an earthmoving machine forty metres in front of him lit the ground where Harvey stood, followed by the roar of its powerful diesel engine starting up. Harvey froze. He was in plain sight. Another pair of spotlights lit him from behind, and another diesel engine began to cough into life. As if in sync, lights came from either side of him. The air was filled now with the spitting and deep throaty growl of four engines. He had nowhere to run.

  The un-oiled squealing of the machine's heavy iron tracks joined the ensemble, and the bass-like rumble of thirty tons of heavy machinery filled the lower spectrum of sound. Hanging chains from the heavy steel bulldozers rattled in percussive shudders as the enormous machines slowly closed in on Harvey.

  The ground was now well lit and Harvey saw the silhouettes of many men filling the gaps between each machine. Each perfect human shape was scarred with the unmistakable barrel of a Kalashnikov.

  Harvey growled at his own stupidity under his breath. Patience, planning and execution, his mantra. He'd acted hastily to save his own life. But by doing so, he now saw no other option than to lay down his weapon.

  He held fast as long as he could until the machines were each just ten metres away. He was boxed in by the steel, diesel-powered monsters, and the grit and tenacity of the Albanian mafia.

  The engines were cut, and the silence that followed the deathly chorus seemed to linger as if in appreciation.

  "You are a brave man," said a voice, the old man's voice, Duri.

  Harvey didn't reply.

  "Stupid, but brave." The man in the long coat stepped out of the glare of lights and towards Harvey, but stopped three metres in front of him. "Did you really think that just two men could destroy us? Do you see what we have built here in your country?"

  "All I see is a bunch of immigrants on a piece of land that nobody else wants."

  "Ah, we see things with different eyes though, do we not?" The man began to walk in a circle around Harvey. Harvey stayed perfectly still, all too aware of the twenty AK-74s that were aimed at him.

  "You see, where you see wasteland, I see opportunity. Where you see the unwanted items of the rich, I see profit for the poor people of Albania, my homeland." He spoke the last two words softly, with affection.

  "I don't care about the waste, have it. But you overstepped the mark, didn't you? You couldn't help yourself, right? You just wanted one more piece of the pie. Well, that pie belongs to us. London? We might let you live here, and yeah, we let you send your money home. That's just humanity. But each time you stand on someone else's toes, you disrupt a very delicate balance."

  "How poetic. You like poetry?"

  "Not particularly."

  "It's shame. Poetry is a beautiful way to capture our history. So many great poems describe times long ago that we strive to understand today. In fact, poetry is the only record of certain historical events and is the basis of our knowledge. Like a verbal tapestry."

  "Please tell me I'm not standing here in the mud talking about poetry with a pikey? Is this how it ends? I thought I'd have a more peaceful death if I'm honest."

  "Tell me what they'd write about you. The poets."

  Harvey didn't reply.

  "Tell me who you are."

  Harvey didn't reply.

  "You'll talk, of that I'm sure. I have skills. I was taught by the best."

  "We share an enthusiasm for encouragement. Aleksander spoke too. I was amazed at how quickly he spoke if I'm honest. A big bloke like that reduced to tears and pissing himself."

  Luan glared at Harvey.

  "Tell me who you are."

  "I'm going to need a little more encouragement than that, Luan."

  "You want encouragement?"

  "Do it."

  "You want to piss your pants like Aleksander?"

  "Make me. Let's play."

  "You're a crazy fool."

  "Yeah, maybe. But let me make one thing clear, when the tables turn, and it's you who needs encouragement, I'm going to make you sing. Bear that in mind, and we'll see who sings loudest, eh?"

  Luan laughed. "Such control." He stopped laughing, took on a serious grimace and stared into Harvey's eyes. "I look forward to breaking you." He nodded to the man behind Harvey.

  Harvey felt the butt of a rifle slam into the back of his head. Blood rushed to his brain, he tasted iron, and darkness enveloped him.

  Harvey woke stripped naked in a windowless room with rough concrete walls. His wrists were bound with a harsh manila rope, which was fixed to chains that hung from a steel eye bolt in the concrete ceiling above. A single lamp to his right barely lit the ten-foot-square room, and a single chair sat opposite him where Luan Duri sat calmly, staring at Harvey.

  "Good morning," said Luan.

  Harvey's head throbbed, and his back was aching like he'd been dragged across the concrete floor.

  "Did you sleep well?"

  It was pointless to try to work out where in the compound he was. If he was actually still in the c
ompound. His watch had been removed; he had no idea how long he'd been out for. All Harvey could do was prepare himself for what was to come. To survive.

  "You interest me," said Luan. "I do so wish to know your name. It would make the conversation so much more engaging if I knew who I'm talking to."

  Harvey didn't reply.

  "You'll tell me. Eventually."

  Luan stood and walked around the back of Harvey.

  "So, perhaps we can start with something easy. We do, after all, have all night. Longer if need be." Luan leaned over Harvey's shoulder and spoke quietly into his left ear. "Tell me about Aleksander, our mutual friend. Tell me how you made him talk."

  Harvey didn't reply. He felt something cold and hard trace the muscles on his back.

  "You take good care of yourself."

  Harvey felt the point of a blade in the small of his back.

  "Tell me," whispered Luan.

  "I didn't touch him," spat Harvey.

  "Oh, come on. The silence I can deal with, but lies, I cannot tolerate liars."

  "He spoke freely against you."

  "Did you...encourage him?"

  "I didn't need to."

  The blade slid up Harvey's spine and stopped between his shoulder blades. "One of the things I enjoy about what you call encouragement is the exploratory elements. I regard it as a lesson in science. For example, I once opened a man and removed various parts of him. I did it slowly, of course, such matters require delicacy, or else the heart will fail and spoil my fun."

  He leaned over Harvey's right shoulder and whispered. "Shall we have a science lesson?" He stopped. "Do you notice you are missing some items?"

  It was then that Harvey realised the earpiece had gone. The blade ran further up Harvey's back until it found the wound where the tracker that Melody had inserted had been. It had been removed.

  "You see now why you interest me?" said Luan. "More so than the giant in the next room, your friend."