by Angus McLean
‘Well,’ Travis said aloud. ‘Looks like we’re a bit fucked, doesn’t it?’
Chambers smiled down at them benevolently. Gone was the raging psycho now, replaced by the kindly monarch.
‘A somewhat crude description,’ he purred, ‘but it does sum the situation up nicely.’
‘Send down your boy first,’ Travis called up, nodding his head towards Mitchell.
‘If he can beat me, I’ll kill Stephenson.’ He spread his hands, mirroring Chambers.
Mitchell glanced at his boss. ‘It’s a trick,’ he said.
Chambers sneered. ‘Come now, Johnny, surely you can beat him?’ He smiled indulgently. ‘You are a SEAL, after all…’
Mitchell hesitated, torn between common sense and his professional pride. For the second time that night pride won out and he handed the chain to Chambers. ‘Keep a gun on them until I get the big one locked up,’ he warned.
Chambers took the chain and drew his Browning again, training it on Travis.
Mitchell moved out of sight and Brad moved too, wind milling his arms as if warming up. Travis backed up to the wall facing Chambers, making eye contact with Susie as he did so. He flicked his eyebrows and got the tiniest of nods in return.
It was three seconds since Mitchell had disappeared from view. Brad linked his fingers into a stirrup and quickly backed up to the opposite wall. Travis moved.
Chambers realised something was up and yelled a warning, unleashing a shot into the pit and kicking at Susie.
Travis bolted across the pit and brought his foot up into Brad’s hands.
Susie was powerless to fight Chambers’ foot shove and rolled over the edge of the pit with a sharp gasp. She dropped down until the chain ended and nearly ripped her head off. She began to swing like a pendulum, held by the chain round her throat.
Travis pushed off and Brad heaved upwards, the joint effort sending him hurtling up the face of the pit wall.
A second shot cracked and he felt the wind of it passing above his head. Susie swung back to her right, the chain tight around her throat.
The door was flung open and Mitchell burst through, staying wide and keeping his Beretta tucked close to his body.
Brad landed a thunderous right cross to the side of the ex-SEAL’s head and grabbed for the Beretta as it fired.
Chambers’ third shot was deafeningly loud as he fired from only a metre away, but Travis was so focussed on his purpose that he barely acknowledged it. He cleared the lip of the pit by a good foot, and threw himself at the criminal mastermind as he landed.
The Browning fired again and he felt a tweak at his left shoulder. He grabbed Chambers by the front of his robes and yanked him off-balance, snatching at the gun hand.
Mitchell recovered quickly and fought to retain his weapon, jabbing at Brad’s face with his left while he did so. Brad had his right wrist and was holding the Beretta away at arm’s length. He swatted Mitchell’s hand away and grabbed him by the throat. The Beretta fired into the dirt as they wrestled together. Mitchell craned his neck and latched onto Brad’s hand, biting hard onto a knuckle.
Travis got hold of the Browning by the barrel and pushed it away to the side, then smashed his head forward in a brutal head butt.
Chambers’ head flicked back with the impact and the skin above his nose split. Travis went for a second head strike but Chambers threw a desperate knee at him, caught up in his flowing robes. Travis took it on the thigh and snapped an elbow to Chambers’ temple, stunning him.
The pressure was building on Susie’s head and throat and she couldn’t breathe. Dangling by her neck from the chain noose, she knew it was only a matter of time before she choked to death.
Despite the size difference, Mitchell was extremely strong and Brad had his hands full containing him. The ex-SEAL ripped the knuckle open and threw knee strikes and kicks at him. The pain in Brad’s hand was excruciating but he held on, locked tight on the man’s throat. He dug his fingers in around the windpipe and squeezed hard.
Mitchell twisted his right wrist free from Brad’s big paw and started to bring the Beretta pistol up. His vision was blurring and the pressure was building in his head. Brad saw the pistol coming round and squeezed harder on his opponent’s throat, forcing his fingers together through the skin and gristle. Mitchell gaped like a fish, his eyes bugging wildly.
Travis hooked Chambers to the head, and a second, and a third, pushing him away and ripping the Browning from his grasp.
Brad snatched the Beretta out of the air in his left and plucked it from Mitchell’s hand. His right arm strained under the effort as he lifted the mercenary onto his toes and throttled him. Mitchell kicked frantically and thrashed with his arms, slapping wildly as the life slipped out of him. His eyes rolled in his head and Brad dropped him in a heap. He swapped the Beretta to his right hand and fired a single shot, straight between Mitchell’s eyes. Blood and grey-pink brain matter splattered across the dirt.
He heard a shot from above the pit and whirled, bringing the pistol up.
Travis triggered a single shot into Chambers’ chest, seeing the stain of red blood spread across the front of the man’s robes. Chambers clutched at his chest and gasped.
Travis dropped the Browning and seized him by the shoulder and the back of his robes, running him forward a few steps before hurling him over the edge.
Brad saw the robed man fly through the air above him, crash into the opposite wall head first with a loud crunch, and drop to the ground.
He hit the dirt and lay still.
‘Susie!’ Travis shouted, scrabbling for the Browning again. If he was lucky, she was still alive. If not…
He found it and scanned for the chain’s anchor. He spotted a large bolt at the base of the wall, the chain secured to it with a D-ring. He fired once, bending the steel but not breaking it. He fired again, hearing his nephew shouting ‘Hurry up, Jack!’
Travis fired again, moving closer, and got to a metre away from the D-ring. He ripped off two more shots and the ring snapped. The chain pulled away and snaked rapidly across the floor.
Susie dropped like a stone and Brad caught her at the bottom, getting his fingers under the chain and yanking the noose open, unhooking it over her head.
She gasped for breath, her chest heaving as her starved lungs sought oxygen.
Brad freed her hands and she rubbed tenderly at her throat.
Travis appeared through the door and came to her, scooping her into his arms and pulling her close, shushing her and touching her face softly.
Brad backed away and checked Stephenson; still out cold. He checked Mitchell next; brain matter still leaked out the back of his head. Brad figured it was safe to rule him out as a threat. He started to move towards Chambers.
Travis felt relief flooding through him as he held Susie against his chest. It was only early days and who knew what lay ahead of them, but he didn’t want to contemplate the idea of being without her.
He heard a shuffle of movement behind him and a shout from Brad.
Travis whirled, bringing the Browning around. Brad was off to his right with the Beretta up.
Chambers had pushed himself into a sitting position, a wide red stain over his chest, his left shoulder hanging limply at his side. In his right hand was a stubby-barrelled pistol, coming on line with Travis.
Both men opened fire with their captured pistols. The volley of shots blasted across the pit and peppered Chambers’ torso, causing him to jump like some sick marionette.
Travis’ slide locked open as the magazine went empty and he lowered his gun. Brad stopped shooting as Chambers’ body collapsed backwards, leaking blood from numerous new wounds. He glanced over at Travis and Susie.
‘Everyone okay?’
‘Yep,’ Travis replied, helping Susie to her feet.
‘Yeah,’ she croaked, a reluctant smile breaking across her dirty face. ‘Just bloody peachy.’
Chapter Thirty Five
A quick search of the island premises
had recovered not only their own weapons – Travis’ Python and Susie’s Glock 26 had been retained by Dang and Mookjai respectively, as well as Brad’s Smith and Wesson and the Glock 17s that Travis and Brad had carried – but also uncovered a pair of Russian-made Kedr PP-91 machine pistols.
Travis had heard of them but never seen one in the flesh before, and Susie stood waiting impatiently while he and Brad took a couple of minutes to examine them. Finally she’d had enough and snatched the two weapons from them.
‘You do realise we have a building full of dead guys here, don’t you?’ she snapped. ‘Enough jerking off over the guns, okay? Let’s get our collective arse in gear.’
Brad cocked an eyebrow at his uncle. ‘Feisty,’ he said.
‘Fair point though,’ Travis conceded. ‘Let’s go.’
Travis had guided one of the boats back to the resort and they had found their rooms secured by Police tape but no guards in place. Within five minutes they had recovered all their gear and legged it to the car park, where they found the two white Land Cruisers used by Dang and his crew.
Travis’ hot wiring skills had been put to use and they arrived at the Koh Samui airport as dawn broke over the island paradise, following directions from Stephenson to the right hangar.
Neither of the pilots were to be seen and they went unhindered.
The DC-3 had certainly seen better days, but the old crate was built to last and appeared to have been well maintained. It was soon winging its way south with a full tank and only a handful of passengers. Susie was at the controls, happy to be taking the bird up and making for home. It had been a while since she’d flown but she was comfortable with it and glanced at Travis in the co-pilot’s seat.
‘Go and take a breather,’ she said through his headset, her voice raspy. ‘I’ve got this.’
He nodded and took off his headset, moving out of the cockpit.
He stopped and came back, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. ‘Thanks, Cap’n.’
She grinned and he moved back into the hold.
Ingoe had been alerted and would have a reception party waiting for them at Whenuapai military base when they landed, including medical staff and intelligence officers.
‘How was he?’ Brad asked, speaking loudly over the roar of the engines. The aircraft had a few drop down seats for passengers and crew but the hold was basically empty, due to its main function as a cargo plane.
Travis crooked a smile. ‘He’s a hard man to read sometimes,’ he said, ‘but he was okay.’
‘Did you tell him we shot everything to shit and just got out by the skin of our teeth?’ Brad watched as Travis eased himself into one of the seats opposite him.
‘I did. He didn’t sound too surprised.’
Brad grinned and jerked a thumb to the stretcher on the floor where Stephenson lay, securely strapped in and sedated. ‘I bet he’s happy to be getting this little present, though.’
Travis nodded, looking thoughtfully at the prisoner. They had given basic medical attention to Stephenson, and Travis figured he was in for a long recovery. ‘He is. Reckons the Director will be particularly pleased.’ He turned and his eyes met those of his nephew. ‘We don’t get many traitors in NZ; I’d say people will be chomping at the bit for a crack at this guy.’
Brad nodded, holding his gaze for a moment before looking away. His expression gradually changed from excitement to contemplation. Travis watched him, knowing what he was thinking. He’d been there himself.
‘We did good,’ he said.
Brad looked up but said nothing.
‘These are real bad guys, Brad. The hurt and chaos they cause…’ Travis shook his head. ‘There’s only one way to deal with them, and that’s to put a bullet in their fuckin’ heads. It’s all they understand.’
Brad nodded slowly. ‘I got no problem with that,’ he rasped. ‘I’m just thinking about my boys, that’s all.’ He rubbed the stubble on his jaw. ‘I’ve done what I can with these shit kickers, but I still need to make peace with the families.’
Travis nodded. He stayed silent and let the younger man get it off his chest. Travis was no tree-hugging head shrinker, but he knew what made fighting men tick. Sometimes, after the dust had settled and physical wounds had been patched up, they needed to clear their heads in a safe environment.
‘I can’t hide,’ Brad said softly. ‘Those boys all signed up for a job, but their families never did. I need them to know what it meant to be alongside their husbands and fathers, what it meant to be there at the end.’ He nodded, dropping his head and looking away.
‘That’s important,’ Travis told him. ‘For them, and for you.’ He paused, and waited until his nephew looked up again. ‘And when that’s done, you have a decision to make.’
Brad looked at him quizzically.
‘I spoke to Ingoe about it. After this, and with your face having been all over the media, it would be hard to go back to STG. If you want it, there’s a spot for you at the Division.’
Brad flicked his eyebrows and nodded. ‘What about you? What’re you going to do? Go back to prepping for the end of the world?’
Travis gave a small smile. ‘I prepare for the unexpected and unwanted. Always have. Being a soldier is an extension of that.’
‘Nice diversion,’ Brad noted, ‘but are you going to stay on with this outfit?’
‘Would it make a difference to you either way?’
Brad shrugged. ‘Probably not. Doesn’t seem like I have too many options really. And besides…’ He gave a grin. ‘It seems like it’s in my blood to be a gunslinger.’
Travis smiled. ‘You’ve been in my study.’
Brad nodded. ‘A lot of family history there I didn’t know.’
‘No reason for you to have known; your mother wanted no part of that world and had other things on her plate.’ There was sadness in his smile now. ‘If you want to know, I’m happy to tell you.’
Brad nodded. ‘That’d be good.’ He looked around him at the battered aircraft, the weapons and the incapacitated prisoner. ‘This is me.’ He thumped his chest with a fist. ‘In here, this is me.’
Travis leaned forward and looked him in the eye. His tone was soft but firm. ‘It’s what we do, Brad. Men in our family have always been fighters.’ He paused and set his jaw. ‘Warriors.’
Looking at his uncle across the width of the aircraft, a battle-hardened Special Forces operator, a relentless fighter and professional soldier, a specialist in every sense of the word, Brad knew he was right, and he felt it within himself. A surge of pride, of wanting to be one of them, to be the best of the best, to take the fight to the terrorists and tyrants of the world, to take them down and move on to the next battle. He didn’t know what the future held, but he knew the path he would take.
Travis saw the change in his nephew’s demeanour and felt himself smile inwardly. He knew the decision had been made for the younger man, and equally he knew it had been made for himself.
The request to become involved, what seemed so long ago, had nothing to do with fate or the Gods. It was just how it was; the way of the world. Despite retiring from Special Forces, the war was not over for him. Maybe it never would be. But he had been asked to do a job and he had done it. He had no doubt there would be another job after this, another mission requiring men like him. Men who did the dirty work so others could sleep peacefully at night.
It was a calling, an instinctive drive he had no control over.
It was a call to arms, and he knew within himself, he would answer that call.
END
The Shadow Dancers
The Division #3
Angus McLean
Copyright 2016 Angus McLean
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
&nb
sp; Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty Six
Chapter Twenty Seven
Chapter Twenty Eight
Chapter Twenty Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty One
Chapter Thirty Two
Chapter Thirty Three
Chapter Thirty Four
Chapter Thirty Five
Chapter Thirty Six
Chapter Thirty Seven
Chapter Thirty Eight
Chapter Thirty Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty One
Chapter Forty Two
Chapter Forty Three
Chapter Forty Four
Chapter Forty Five
Chapter Forty Six
Chapter Forty Seven
Chapter Forty Eight
Chapter Forty Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty One
Chapter Fifty Two
Chapter Fifty Three
Chapter Fifty Four
Chapter Fifty Five
Chapter Fifty Six
Chapter Fifty Seven
Chapter Fifty Eight
Chapter Fifty Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty One
Chapter Sixty Two
Chapter One
London
May
The hotel room was small but adequate and smelt of sex in the mid-afternoon. Moore rolled onto his side and propped his head up so he could see into the bathroom.
The woman in the shower was tall and curvy, with shoulder length blonde hair and heavy breasts. She had a pale birth mark shaped like a speech bubble on her inner left thigh. He watched as she turned the water off and stepped out, grabbing a towel from the rack. She dried herself quickly and caught him watching.