by Angus McLean
Katie lowered her bottle and looked at him, sensing something.
Leon’s guy kept his head down as he moved towards the van, deliberately paying the vehicle no attention. Moore could see the guy was stuck now, committed to an action which took him right to what was presumably his target. Surely he was doing a walk past? This couldn’t be a direct approach, could it? Nobody was that stupid; such an approach was a job for a fully equipped tactical unit, not a lone intelligence officer.
The person behind the van moved into view now and Moore saw a female figure, long blonde hair under a blue cap, emerge from the cover of the van and head away from it, towards Moore and Katie but on the opposite side of the cobbled street. She wore a flowing blue summery top over white leggings.
Natalie Oldham, Moore thought. Has to be.
His eyes flicked back to the van, seeing the driver now and realising the man was looking at him. Middle Eastern of some sort, short beard and a khaki shirt. The engine was still running. Leon’s guy was barely ten metres from the van now.
Katie stopped still, the plastic bottle in her hands. Moore took a breath and discreetly moved a finger under the flaps of his loose green shirt. He pressed the talk button he had taped to his belt.
‘Don’t turn round,’ he breathed into the mic under the lapel, ‘eyes on me.’
She flicked her eyebrows to signify she understood.
The blonde girl was well clear of the van now and parallel to them.
Moore could no longer see Leon’s man, hidden by the van. The driver’s head snapped round and there was a shout, then gunfire split the thick air.
A loud shot, a shout, the roar of the van’s engine revving, two more pistol shots then a long burst of submachine gun fire.
Moore pushed off the wall and yanked his shirt up, snatching the Sig from the holster there, Katie stepping and turning as she grabbed for the bum-bag at the front of her pants. The van lurched away from the kerb, seemingly towards them, a pistol fired again, the blonde girl began to run, the submachine gun ripped off another long burst, somebody screamed. Another engine behind them.
Tourists and locals stopped and stared.
Moore got the Sig up in both hands and bellowed, ‘Everybody down! On the ground!’
The white Toyota van screeched towards them and he could see the driver’s face twisted in a snarl, both hands on the wheel, eyes locked on them as he bore down. He had obviously clocked them and was presumably, mistakenly, lumping them in with Leon’s man.
Moore stepped sideways, getting distance from the street vendor who had ducked for cover, his focus totally on the driver as he stared along the short barrel of the Sig at him. The pistol rocked in his hand as he triggered a shot, and another, the windscreen spider webbing but not breaking as both rounds ricocheted off into the sky.
His third shot went through and he saw a splash of red behind the crazed glass, and the fourth hit home, making the driver’s body jerk.
He scrambled to the right now, needing space. The van’s front wheels hit the kerb, bounced, then there was an almighty crunch as the van smashed into the wall where Moore had stood only moments before.
Moore could see the sliding door still open and somebody in the back, slumped on a seat, not moving. He stepped forward, pistol up, scanning the interior. The engine was screaming and steam was pouring out the front of it.
Another shot cracked out from the other side of the vehicle. A car skidded to a stop at the back of the van and he spun, seeing two men leap out with pistols. He brought his gun up but they had no time for him-their focus was on something beyond the van on the opposite side of the road.
The submachine gun chattered again and the furthest away man immediately went down in the road, dropping his gun. Glass exploded from the car beside him.
Moore raced forward, ducking behind the car-a grey Citreon. He jabbed his talk button.
‘Contact, contact,’ he said as calmly as he could, barely able to hear himself over the shouting, someone screaming, the ringing in his ears from the shots.
He crab walked to the rear of the car and snatched a look. He could see someone down on the opposite footpath, presumably Leon’s man. Another guy crouched over him with a Skorpion machine pistol in his hands, pointing the stubby Russian weapon across the road.
Moore guessed he was focussing on Katie, wherever she happened to be. The other Greek intelligence officer from the Citreon was nowhere to be seen either.
The Skorpion rattled a burst and he heard glass smashing and the whine of ricochets-it was better than the slap of bullets punching into a body. Two more pistol shots and another burst of SMG fire. Moore raised himself up and sighted quickly and smoothly.
The guy started to come up as Moore fired and the first shot skimmed his elbow instead of lacing through his midsection. He yelped and partially turned.
Moore’s second and third shots took him in the chest and knocked him back against the wall behind him. He jerked as someone else’s rounds also struck him, then fell in a heap.
Moore couldn’t see any other hostiles and the shooting suddenly stopped. His heard Katie’s voice through the ringing in his ears.
‘Rob? You okay?’
He pressed his talk button. ‘Yep, are you?’
‘I think so. Fuck!’
He looked up as a man loomed over him, a Glock aimed at Moore’s face. He was bellowing something in Greek and his finger was on the trigger. Moore didn’t speak Greek but the guy’s directions were clear. He raised his left hand in the air and carefully lowered his Sig to the ground. Another car skidded to a stop and Moore glanced up, seeing a mane of blonde hair disappearing round a corner beyond the red Mercedes now blocking the road.
Suddenly Katie crashed into the guy with the gun in a full-tilt shoulder charge, sending him flying. She tumbled to the ground and rolled, the guy slammed onto the bonnet of the Merc and Moore leaped to his feet.
He was on the guy in a second, snatching at the Glock and ripping it free. Before the guy’s feet even hit the ground again Moore had stripped the slide and magazine from the weapon and cast them aside.
Leon alighted from the passenger’s seat, a younger man joining him from the driver’s side. Katie hauled herself up and Moore recovered his Sig, jabbing a finger in the direction he’d last seen the blonde running.
‘Suicide bomber!’ he snapped. ‘Come on!’
Leon barked something at his guys as the two Kiwis sprinted away.
They made the corner and belted around it, having a clear run now towards the cathedral two blocks away. Up ahead they could the girl still running, long blonde hair flowing from beneath the blue hat, her loose top flapping in her slipstream.
Sirens were wailing and Jedi was demanding an update over the net.
‘Runner coming to you,’ Moore panted into his mic, ‘believe it’s Natalie Oldham…probable suicide bomber…trying to catch her…one block away.’
‘Natalie!’ Katie shouted. ‘Natalie, stop!’
The girl ahead of them faltered but kept moving.
‘Natalie, stop! It’s me!’
She slowed now, glanced back as she reached the last corner a hundred metres or so from the cathedral. She stopped.
Moore and Katie slowed up, half a block from her now. Even from here they could see her clearly.
Natalie Oldham stared back at them.
Chapter Fifty Three
‘Take the lead,’ Moore hissed, ‘I’ll cover.’
He kept his Sig at the low ready and broke away to the side, letting Katie be the focus of the girl’s attention. He kept Natalie in sight, flicking quick glances past her to check their surroundings. There were a few pedestrians in the street, most of them hanging back and watching the three newcomers, seeming to be aware that something was up. One guy on his own was strolling along with earbuds in, blissfully unaware of the drama unfolding just metres away as he approached Natalie from behind.
Moore waved a hand at him, hoping to get his attention, but th
e guy was focussed on the ground in front of him. Moore looked to Natalie instead. Her expression was a study in concentration, absolutely focussed, her eyes blank as she stared at Katie.
‘Nat, it’s me,’ Katie called, still moving forward cautiously, her Sig down at her side. ‘We need to talk. Everybody’s worried about you.’
Natalie Oldham continued to stare at her, her eyes so hard and direct they seemed to have a living force of their own. She said nothing. Moore watched her hands. They hung at her sides, empty and still. He edged onto the right hand footpath.
The guy with the earbuds finally looked up, saw the girl standing in the middle of the road with two armed people facing her, and stopped. He was maybe ten metres away from Natalie now. He was in his mid-twenties, with thick curly hair struggling to escape from beneath a white cap. He looked from one to the other then took his phone from his pocket and held it up. He started to record the scene in front of him. Moore had an almost overwhelming urge to shoot him.
‘Nat, talk to me,’ Katie urged, still moving. ‘I’ve been looking all over for you mate. What’s going on?’
Natalie Oldham half opened her mouth, made as if to speak, then hesitated. She continued to stare at Katie for a long moment.
Moore edged forward, close to the wall now, feeling the strain on his muscles as he moved carefully. Any sudden moves right now would be counterproductive and probably fatal. Sweat was running down his back and his mouth was dry. The sirens he had heard only moments ago had gone silent.
Nobody else had entered the street since they had made contact with Natalie. The Sig was secure in his two handed grip, and he knew he had three rounds left in it. He cursed himself for not changing mags already.
The amateur videographer was still recording.
‘Natalie,’ Katie persisted, ‘come on mate, talk to me.’
They were about twenty five metres apart now. Moore scanned Natalie again, more certain now that the flowy top concealed a suicide vest. How or why, he had no idea. One thing he was certain of though; she was no prisoner.
‘Your dad asked me to find you,’ Katie said, and finally Natalie’s mask cracked-but it wasn’t the reaction they had hoped for.
‘Do not speak to me of him,’ she spat. ‘He is the infidel and I am the Azrael.’
Her chin lifted and she was looking down her nose at Katie, who paused mid stride and waited. The blonde girl’s mask was back on, hard and inscrutable. The name Azrael took a moment to click in the back of Moore’s memory, but when it did his stomach dropped. Azrael was another name for the Angel of Death referenced in the Quran, an archangel who was subordinate to the will of God.
Moore keyed his talk button. ‘Katie, back off,’ he breathed quietly. ‘This isn’t right.’
Katie stayed where she was, and he saw her flex her fingers on the grip of her Sig.
‘We’re on camera,’ he breathed into his mic. ‘Back off.’
The guy in the white cap was riveted by the scene playing out in front of him. Moore hoped he wasn’t live streaming the incident-he had the distinct feeling this wasn’t going to end well, and there was no way to hide his face.
Katie’s head flickered slightly towards the guy but she didn’t budge.
Natalie also hadn’t budged; if anything, she looked more defiant than before. She stared at her old friend across the gap, her arms out to her sides now, the floaty top draping like wings. The sun behind her highlighted the blondeness of her hair and gave Moore a clear view through the light fabric of her top. He could clearly see a bulky vest underneath it.
‘Katie,’ he rasped, his throat dry, ‘she’s got a bomb vest on. Back up now.’
He scanned her for a trigger, but couldn’t see one.
‘It is time for the one true God’s will to be done,’ Natalie stated loudly. She raised her arms higher, almost shoulder height now. ‘He is the one, he creates us in his image and he takes us back to paradise when our time is done.’
She cocked her head back and gazed skywards, closing her eyes. A smile crossed her face and for the first time since laying eyes on her in the flesh, Moore could see her real beauty. She looked childlike and peaceful, and he knew something had changed inside her.
It wasn’t a good sign. He desperately scanned her again for any indication of a triggering device.
Natalie abruptly dropped her chin and opened her eyes, locking onto Katie before her.
‘Allah giveth, and he taketh away,’ she said. Her voice was tight and breathless. Moore saw her chest rapidly rising and falling. He readied himself. ‘It is his way, and it is time.’
She suddenly dropped her arms and spun on her heel. Moore swung his Sig up smoothly, coming on line and starting to squeeze the trigger. But he could still see both the girl’s hands as she began to run, and they were both empty.
‘It is time,’ Natalie shrieked as she gained speed towards the Cathedral of the Angels. ‘Praise be to Allah! Praise be to Allah!’
In that split second Moore made his mind up. The device had to be on a timer. In seconds she would be at the cathedral.
He squeezed through the pull and felt the trigger trip. The Sig kicked in his grip and in the same instant Natalie stumbled forward and went to her knees, the bullet hitting her between the shoulder blades. He didn’t hesitate with the second shot, drilling her straight in the back of the head. She pitched forward, her wings out to her sides.
‘Stay back!’ Moore bellowed at Katie, waving her away as he ran forward.
He reached the fallen girl, a large pool of blood rapidly spreading around her, and stood over her, yanking up the floaty top. Sure enough the black nylon vest beneath it was rigged with explosives.
He rolled her onto her back, desperately checking for the trigger. Secured to the front of the vest was a cheap cell phone with wires leading to the pockets of plastic explosive.
Without hesitation Moore snatched the phone and ripped it free from the vest, disconnecting it from the wires as he did so. This was not the time for finesse-if he fucked about now, innocent people would die.
He tossed the phone aside and ran a hand over the vest, checking for secondary triggers. This was obviously a device to be detonated by a third party, not the wearer, and he didn’t trust the bastards not to have a back-up plan.
His fingers brushed across the lumps of Semtex secured in the pockets of the vest until they found something hard in a side pocket beneath the girl’s right arm. In the background he heard a ringing sound. His eyes flicked to the discarded phone, seeing the screen flashing as the phone vibrated on the cobbles a few metres away.
Moore grabbed at the second phone and yanked it from the pouch, seeing it was switched on as he pulled it free. A pair of wires led from the rear of the phone back into the vest. He jerked it hard and the wires popped out as he stepped away. While the wires were still falling away the phone jumped in his hand and the screen lit up with an incoming call.
Moore instinctively hit the “Receive” button and put the phone to his ear. There was silence at the other end but he knew somebody was there. An unseen shot-caller.
A shadow dancer.
‘Bad luck, Tristan,’ he rasped. ‘Your angel of death is dead.’
Deathly silence, but the line stayed open.
‘And I’m coming for you next,’ Moore said.
The line went dead. Moore dropped the phone back to his side and stared at the body at his feet. The 9mm hollow point had blown her brains out through her right eye and taken most of the nose with it. The left eye was an empty sightless blue and stared at the sky.
Moore looked up as Katie arrived beside him.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly.
She nodded mutely, her face white and her eyes wide. She slowly holstered her weapon with a trembling hand.
Chapter Fifty Four
Leon and his guys arrived within a couple of minutes of the shooting with the police hard on their heels.
Moore and Katie were quickly ushered off to a
van with blacked out windows while cordons were thrown up and witnesses were corralled. As the van moved off Moore was pleased to see the guy in the white hat being grabbed by a cop and stripped of his phone. At least that was one less video to be uploaded to Facebook.
Leon joined them in the rear of the van with a phone clamped to his head and a dark look on his weathered face. He turned in his seat to eyeball the two New Zealanders in the back seat as the van moved off. Moore and Katie sat silently, waiting as the Greek spook talked non-stop in his own language. He disconnected but when Moore opened his mouth to speak he was silenced by a raised finger. Leon switched to English for the next ten minutes while he spoke to Ingoe.
Moore had seen the city slip away and realised they were heading for the airport. Not Heraklion, but Maleme, the scene of the battle in the war but rarely used now. He felt Katie trembling beside him and took her hand in his, giving it a supportive squeeze as the van rocked along a rural road. It was understandable; she was scared and well outside her comfort zone. The massive dump of adrenaline they had both received was quickly wearing off.
Finally Leon disconnected and put his phone away. His dark eyes met theirs.
‘You heard all that,’ he said without preamble. ‘We have things covered here and you are to leave Greece immediately.’
Moore nodded. He felt Katie give another shudder.
‘The Government of Greece appreciates your assistance today,’ Leon continued, ‘however you were never here. All traces of your presence in this country will be erased and you will be debriefed by your own people when you…regroup. You understand?’
‘Completely,’ Moore said.
Leon noted Katie’s pinched face and silence, but said nothing. ‘Today has been a very traumatic day for you,’ he said, a hint of tenderness slipping into his voice now. ‘Believe me, I know what it is like. I am an old dog who has seen many terrible things in my time.’ He gave her a comforting smile. ‘You will be okay.’
Katie nodded and pressed against Moore’s side. He gave her hand another squeeze.
‘But there will never be a public mention, or an official record, of the involvement of your service in today’s events. The history books will record that Greek intelligence services terminated a very successful operation today to prevent a terrible terrorist atrocity. Are we clear on this?’