by Chris Ryan
‘Roger that,’ Max said. ‘Maybe we should wait here for a while until Guzman and the BOPE have dispersed.’
‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea,’ said Lili. ‘We’re too close to their centre of command. This area will be crawling with them very soon.’
‘Maybe we should make the distress call,’ Sami said. ‘I can’t see us getting out of here without bumping into them.’
Someone coughed. It was Tommy, reminding them he was there. ‘Er, mind if I say something?’ he asked. His voice was posh, like his father’s.
‘Surprised you’ve got any voice left,’ Abby muttered, ‘after all that screaming.’
‘Ah,’ said Tommy. ‘Yes. My throat is a bit sore. Sorry about that. I thought you were them.’ He frowned at Lukas. ‘Who are you, by the way?’
‘We’ll explain that when we get the hell out of the favela,’ Lukas said.
‘Right,’ Tommy replied. ‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.’ He sat up and ran a hand through his blond hair, which glowed faintly in the moonlight. ‘The thing is, I’m not going anywhere. I came here to do something, and I’m not leaving the favela until I’ve done it.’
The cadets stared at him. Max exhaled slowly. ‘Are you crazy?’ he said.
13
Seven Minutes, Thirty-Five Seconds
‘We’re getting out of here,’ Lukas said, ‘whether you like it or not.’
‘That’s up to you,’ Tommy said. For the first time, there was a hint of steel in his voice. It occurred to Max that the ambassador’s son was not quite the person he expected him to be. ‘You go. I’m staying. I’ve got a job to do.’
An aggressive look crossed Lukas’s face. ‘What, scoring dope on a street corner?’
Tommy looked astonished. ‘You think that’s why I came to the favela?’ he said.
Sami put a hand on Lukas’s forearm to stop him replying. Lukas was obviously angry, but he kept quiet.
‘I know it sounds crazy, but that’s kind of what we were told,’ Sami said, smiling. He had a knack of putting people at their ease.
‘Who by?’ Tommy demanded. ‘No, don’t tell me. My dad, right? Did he call me a “high-maintenance child”?’
‘I think he might have used words like that,’ Sami said.
Tommy shook his head in disbelief. ‘Since my mum died, that’s what he tells everyone. He thinks that if he persuades himself and other people that I’m off the rails, he has an excuse for being in my face all the time. He’ll even tell you that I came to the favela to buy drugs, if it means he doesn’t have to tell you the truth.’
‘What truth?’ Lili asked.
‘I’ve come here to find my girlfriend,’ Tommy said. ‘I’ve never touched drugs in my life. I’m not an idiot.’
The cadets were silent for a moment. ‘Who’s your girlfriend, Tommy?’ Max said carefully.
‘She’s called Beatriz,’ Tommy said. ‘You’d like her!’ He scowled, and Max realised this was a boy whose every emotion showed on his face. ‘My dad doesn’t like her. Because she’s Brazilian. He … he doesn’t really like foreigners.’
‘Seems to me he’s in the wrong job,’ Abby observed.
Tommy shrugged. ‘It makes him feel powerful. I met Beatriz in a cafe when I was here a few months ago, and we see each other whenever we can. I have to do it in secret, of course. When I told him about Beatriz, Dad banned me from seeing her just because she’s poor. But that doesn’t matter, does it? She’s super-smart, and fun, and –’
‘Mate,’ Max said, ‘we’re stuck on a rooftop and surrounded by armed men. I’m sure Beatriz is great, but we haven’t got a lot of time. Feel like fast-forwarding a bit?’
Tommy nodded seriously. ‘Right. She lives in a different favela. Not this one – a safer place nearer the centre of Rio. She’s kind of well-known because she’s such a …’ Here words seemed to fail him.
‘Such a what?’ Max pressed.
‘Well, a geek, I guess.’
‘Nothing wrong with that,’ Lili said.
‘I know, right?’ Tommy said with a big smile. If it wasn’t for the bruises and cuts on his face, nobody would know he’d just escaped incarceration. He was like an eager puppy. Then he frowned again. ‘Blue Command found out about her. She’s amazing with computers, telecoms, all that stuff. And Blue Command have a big problem, don’t they? The government have hit their TV networks. Did you know about that?’
‘We heard about it,’ said Sami.
‘Blue Command would pirate the football matches and distribute them around the favela for free, to buy the loyalty of the people who lived in the favela. Easier than taking it by force. But the government cut them off, so they needed somebody who knew how to reconnect them. That’s why they took Beatriz. She was easy to abduct and she had all the skills they needed.’
The cadets all looked at Tommy with interest. ‘How did you find out about this?’ Max asked.
‘Her friends saw it happen. They texted me. When I got to the favela I started asking around, which is when I found out about the TV thing. I knew there was no point going to the regular police because they wouldn’t dare enter the favela to find someone like Beatriz. So I decided to look for her myself. But someone must have recognised me. They caught me and …’ He touched his fingertips to his bruised face and winced. ‘Guzman’s people can be very rough.’
Max was beginning to see Tommy in a new light.
Tommy got to his feet. ‘Thank you for your help,’ he said. ‘I completely understand that you want to get out of here. But I’m going to find Beatriz. I’m not going to leave her to these people. I overheard Guzman talking. I know what he’s going to do with her, once she’s got his stupid TV network up and running.’
‘What?’ Lili said. She and Abby suddenly had grim expressions.
‘Sell her,’ Tommy said.
Sami looked shocked. ‘Sell her?’ he echoed.
‘Right.’
‘Like a slave?’ Outrage emanated from Sami.
Max found himself remembering what Angel had said during their initial briefing. Blue Command also run a people-trafficking business. They abduct favelados – people who live in the favelas – and sell them on to rich families in rural parts of South America.
‘Like a slave,’ Tommy confirmed. ‘She would be in demand. She’s clever, she’s competent, she would fetch a good price in other parts of this continent. I’m not going to let it happen.’
‘Nor am I,’ said Sami quietly.
‘Me neither,’ said Lili.
‘Nor me,’ said Abby.
Max and Lukas exchanged a long look. There was no doubt in Max’s mind that they were both on Tommy’s side, but this was a big call to make.
‘Do you know where she is?’ Max said.
Tommy nodded. ‘I think so. It’s not far from here. There’s an old warehouse further down the hill. Guzman’s people said it’s where they broadcast their TV network from. They’ve locked her in there while she does her engineering. It’s probably guarded, but –’ he shrugged – ‘there must be a way of getting her out.’
‘It might be safer for her if we waited,’ Max said. ‘We should get you out of the favela first, then see if we can return with backup.’
‘Are you joking?’ Abby said. The way she looked at him – as if he’d just said the stupidest thing in the world – was a punch in the stomach. ‘You think they’d do more for some favela girl than they did for the ambassador’s son? Jeez, Max, I thought you were smarter than that.’
Her waspish comment silenced the cadets. Max felt himself blushing, especially when Abby refused to catch his eye.
Tommy broke the silence. ‘It has to be tonight, anyway,’ he said. ‘Guzman said she was nearly finished with the TV thing. They’re planning to move her in the morning. Once they get her out of the favela, we’ll never find her.’
‘You can’t do it by yourself,’ Max said. He was interrupted by the sound of gunfire. Not close, but not very distant. Tommy blanch
ed, and the cadets frowned.
‘If we do this,’ Max said, ‘we have to break contact with the Watchers. You know Hector would never agree to it.’
The other cadets nodded. They took out their phones and switched them off so that they could no longer be used as tracking devices. ‘There’s no point waiting,’ Abby said. ‘Let’s do it.’
The gunfire subsided. The cadets crawled across the rooftop back to the metal staircase. One by one, they climbed back down into the street.
Pepe was fit. It was the football that did it. An hour every day, running around with his friends, meant that although he was small and skinny, he could run and run and barely break a sweat. So it had been no trouble keeping up with the police car that had taken the two British people away from his family’s house. The difficulty had been staying hidden.
There, his size was an advantage. He could tuck himself into doorways and hide behind cars. He could lose himself in a crowd. And even if he found himself out in the open, he knew he could get by unnoticed because he was a kid. The BOPE police, with their scary weapons and their balaclavas, didn’t mind shooting children, but they didn’t see them as a threat.
So Pepe not only managed to keep up with the police car, but he also managed to stay unnoticed in the dark. It was a hot night. The BOPE’s SUV had parked outside a grim grey building on the edge of the favela. Pepe knew this was the BOPE’s local headquarters – and it was a place he should avoid. It was on a busy main road and to one side was a car park full of black SUVs. Pepe watched from the opposite side of the road. The SUV containing the British couple parked at an angle in front of the main entrance. The doors opened and the BOPE men dragged the couple out. The man looked in a bad way. His face was bleeding and bruised. But they weren’t resisting. Their heads were bowed, their shoulders sloped. They walked calmly, the armed guards at their side, up the steps that led into the police building, and out of sight.
Pepe stood there for a few minutes once they had disappeared, his brain ticking over. Then, in a gap in the traffic, he crossed the main road and approached the police building.
The secret to being held against your will, Angel knew, was to do as you’re told when you have no other option. When your opponents are more heavily armed than you, when they outnumber you two or three to one, you have to play it smart. Be acquiescent. Smile sweetly. Don’t make a nuisance of yourself.
Then, when their guard is down and they’re least expecting it, you strike.
She allowed herself to be manhandled out of the SUV. Woody did the same. His face was still bleeding and he gave the impression of being easily manoeuvred, like a rag doll. Angel knew that was an act. Woody could take a lot more punishment before he was truly unable to put up a fight.
They were outside a squat grey building by a main road. Angel knew they had to be on the very edge of the favela and she suppressed a surge of anxiety at their distance from the cadets. She looked across the busy main road. Her eyes were dazzled by the car headlights, but she thought she could see the silhouette of a young boy watching them from the other side. She smiled inwardly. He was a persistent one, that Pepe. It occurred to her that he might have the makings of a cadet when he was older. For now, however, she banked the knowledge of his presence. Most adults would dismiss the potential of children in a situation like this. Not Angel. She’d seen what they were capable of.
There were no pleasantries inside the police building. There weren’t even any unpleasantries. The BOPE guards dragged them wordlessly across a reception area and down a flight of stairs into the basement. Here they were marched along several corridors until they reached some empty holding cells. The cells were cramped and dirty, each with a toilet in one corner and a hard bed along the back wall. Each cell was constructed from metal bars and had a sturdy lock on the doors. Angel and Woody were thrown into separate cells opposite each other. The cells were locked and the BOPE guards left.
They waited until the guards’ footsteps had faded away, then they approached the front wall of their cells. They couldn’t be sure that there were no listening devices down here, so they whispered, communicating as much by lip-reading as by speaking.
‘Strategy?’ Angel asked.
‘We’ve got two options. One, we sit it out. Wait for the cadets to finish their mission. The BOPE will have to release us eventually.’
‘I don’t like it. Someone informed on us. If they told the BOPE or Blue Command about us, they’ll have told them about the cadets. We need to be back in the field in case anything goes wrong.’
‘Agreed. Option two – fancy getting the hell out of here?’
‘I thought you’d never ask.’
‘What do you reckon?’ He looked at his watch. ‘Ten minutes tops?’
‘Ten minutes? You’re losing your touch.’
Woody looked offended. ‘That’s a worst-case scenario.’ He looked over his shoulder towards the toilet in the corner of the cell.
Angel raised an eyebrow. ‘You want me to turn my back?’
‘No. I want you to keep watch.’
Woody stepped over to the toilet. It was unpleasant. There was no seat, and even from a distance Angel could tell that the bowl was dirty. It was an old-fashioned toilet with a high-level cistern on the wall. Hanging from the cistern was a metal chain with a burnished wood handle. Woody stood on the rim of the bowl, lifted the lid of the cistern and felt for the mechanism inside. It was less than a minute’s work to remove the chain from the cistern. Holding it, Woody jumped down from the toilet bowl. He held the chain at both ends and tightened it.
‘Woody,’ Angel said, ‘they’re not idiots. They’ll notice that you’ve removed the chain from the cistern.’
‘Course they will,’ Woody said. He walked to the front bars of the cell, checked there was nobody coming, then swung the chain across the gap so that it clattered into Angel’s cell. ‘I might be wrong,’ he said, ‘but I think they’ll be less vigilant around a woman.’
Angel managed a grin. ‘I reckon you’re right.’ She bent down and picked up the chain, then secreted it under her top, tucking it slightly into her jeans to keep it in place. ‘Lie down on the ground,’ she said. ‘Make it look like you’ve passed out.’
Woody did as she said. He lay on his side, one hand tucked underneath his body as though he was hiding something. He closed his eyes. It didn’t look particularly convincing, but that was the whole point.
Angel started shouting and banging her fists against the railings. ‘Hey! Guards! We need help! Get in here!’ There was no response. She carried on shouting. ‘We need a doctor! Hey! Can anyone hear me? We need a doctor – now!’
She heard a door open. A guard approached the cells. He wore the black gear of the BOPE, but now he was safely inside their headquarters, he’d removed his balaclava. He had a couple of days’ stubble and a flat nose. He walked with a swagger that suggested he was rather impressed with himself. Good, she thought. That’ll make it easier.
He ran his eyes up and down her body.
‘He needs a doctor,’ she repeated.
The guard didn’t say anything. Angel had no way of knowing if he’d even understood what she’d said. He strolled over to Woody’s cell. Angel surveyed him carefully. He looked down at Woody, then up at the cistern. He shook his head. Then he turned and sneered at her. He spat something in Portuguese. Perhaps he was saying, Do you think I’m stupid? It didn’t matter to Angel, because she was about to use the most powerful weapon she possessed.
Her eyelashes.
Angel was merciless. She fluttered her eyelashes and pouted. The guard didn’t stop sneering, but he did saunter over to Angel’s cell. Angel gripped the bars with both hands. As he drew nearer, she smiled at him, her bottom lip trembling.
He stopped opposite her. Their faces were centimetres apart. She could smell coffee on his breath, and a faint waft of body odour. She knew there was a good chance he would try to kiss her, if he could. But she wasn’t going to let him do that.
All of a sudden, Angel looked over his shoulder and fixed her face in an expression of alarm. The guard spun around – and from that moment he didn’t stand a chance. Quickly, ruthlessly, Angel grabbed the chain from its hiding place around her waist. She looped it through the bars, around the guard’s neck and back into the cell. The guard shouted out and tried to turn, but by now Angel was twisting the two ends of the chain so it tightened against the guard’s throat. He tried to grab it and pull it away from his skin but it was too tight, and there was no way Angel was going to loosen it. Not yet.
In the opposite cell, Woody stood up. He watched impassively as the guard gurgled and struggled. Angel could feel her opponent growing weaker. She had no desire to kill the man. Despite everything, he was a police officer, and probably following orders. So as soon as his body went limp and the gurgling stopped, and she knew he had lost consciousness, she released the tension on the chain. She unwound it and put her arms through the bars and under the guard’s armpits. She helped him slide to the floor, unconscious. Once he was down, she went through his pockets. It only took a few seconds to locate his bunch of keys. She took them out and, hooking her arm around the bars, tried three different keys before she found the one that opened her door. She dragged the guard into the cell and relieved him of his handgun. She took the chain from around his neck, stepped out of the cell, locked it again, then released Woody. As he stepped out of the cell, Woody looked at his watch. ‘Seven minutes, thirty-five seconds. Not bad.’
The guard was stirring. They had to move quickly.
‘I’m not going to lie, Woody,’ Angel said as she handed him the chain. ‘Might be a bit tasty, getting out of this place.’
‘Ah, c’mon,’ Woody said. ‘The BOPE might have automatic weapons, but you’ve got a handgun and I’m armed with an old toilet chain. What could possibly go wrong?’
Angel didn’t reply. Instead she raised her weapon and moved quickly along the corridor, away from the cells.
14