Regret No More

by Seb Kirby

  He looked over the cupboard interior as he prepared to leave. The first IED was well concealed under a supply of paper towel rolls. It was unlikely they would be disturbed before they were needed at cleaning time later in the day.

  He put on the shirt and rebuttoned it. It was now time for the difficult part, the planting of the second bomb. He would have to carry it in its assembled form beneath his shirt and accept a greater chance of its being seen. Yet, if he held his left arm across his stomach as he walked, it wasn’t noticeable, given that he’d shaped it to lie flat beneath the shirt.

  He emerged from the cupboard and ventured out into the corridor.

  A twelve-year-old girl came round the corner and skipped towards him.

  It was a child. This couldn’t be. He resolved to stay calm. “You look happy, young girl.”

  She smiled back. “That’s because I am happy.”

  “You can tell me the reason. I won’t spread it about.”

  “I’m not telling you.”

  “A boy. You met a boy!”

  She smiled again. “How did you guess? His name’s Jimi and he’s sweet. His daddy is a guard just like you.”

  Heller patted her on the head. “It’s good to hear. What’s your name?”

  The girl looked up at him. “It’s Jenny. Jenny Ravitz. And you’re new here.”

  “Officer Merrill. But you can call me Larry. Leonard, really, but Larry is what everyone knows me as.”

  “You’re here to keep us safe.”

  “Yes, Jenny. And I must complete my patrol.”

  “Bye, Larry.”

  Jenny Ravitz ran off along the corridor.

  Heller knew this was no time to be sentimental. After all, they had forced him into this, forced him to use imprecise methods like this when, for God’s sake, children would be involved. It was true, every word of it. These people had no courage, no honor, hiding behind children. It made him angrier than ever.

  He made his way back towards the gatehouse. What was needed was a place to leave the second IED close enough to the gatehouse to maximize casualties yet somewhere it would not be seen. No location had suggested itself on the way in.

  An FBI agent was approaching and for a moment Heller thought he would have to deal with the man as it seemed from his body language that he was about to stop him and ask for identification, yet the moment passed as the agent walked past with a nod of reassurance. Heller’s sense of authority had won the day again.

  Then he saw it. A stainless steel stand used to support a large vase of flowers. It was hollow at the back. It was another sign of the lack of quality in this country – why complete the back of a structure that no one would see?

  Heller checked for security cameras in the corridor. He could see none. Nevertheless, in case he was being viewed, he made it look as if he was inspecting the area, checking it out as part of his job. Once out of sight behind the stand, he acted quickly. Here was an ideal space to conceal the second IED. He attached the primed detonator to the remainder of the plastic explosive that he’d pulled out from under his shirt.

  He walked on towards the gatehouse. Would the fact he was about to check out after being in the compound for so short a time lead the guard there to trigger the alarm? If he were in charge of security here it would be the kind of thing he would be looking for. Yet those who have themselves convinced their security is impregnable, as he was sure was the case here, were capable of overlooking such matters. He knew this was a weakness of his whole plan and he’d put much thought into how to overcome it. The answer, when it came to him, was so straightforward that he chastised himself for not having seen it sooner – make a point of leaving in plain sight and have a good reason for it.

  The guard looked up at him as he approached the gatehouse.

  Heller smiled and took his time. “You’re not going to believe this. I have to swipe out.”

  The guard remembered him. “You been here, what, thirty minutes?”

  “The company’s got staffing issues. Three guys didn’t show today and there’s a VIP protection job downtown they have to cover. They’ve called me back to base.”

  The guard smiled. “Nothing you could say could amaze me. I’ve heard it all. How can these guys expect to run a professional service on a shoestring?”

  “And we have to fill in the gaps.”

  The guard looked over towards the swipe card entry/exit lock. “You’re out of here, buddy.”

  Heller swiped the card, thanked the guard and walked slowly away from the compound. It would be good to get out of the uniform once he reached the hire vehicle.

  He had forty-five minutes before the first explosion.

  As he drove away, Heller listened to Wagner. Parsifal again seemed right at this moment. Why was this the music he returned to above all other?

  There would be a surveillance video showing him entering and leaving the compound. They would not see much – a man in a uniform with a cap covering most of his face. In any case, if his plan worked, as he knew it would, no one would find the video machine in the wreckage.

  He found his thoughts returning to the girl.

  Jenny would die.

  He was alarmed he should be having doubts about this, that he’d even remembered her name. He convinced himself it wasn’t his fault that she was there, that his enemies were depraved in hiding the target behind a mere child. Yet there were disturbing feelings about this he couldn’t shake off. He turned up the volume of the music and let his mind drift. The heroism and certainty of men who did what they needed to do to be true to themselves like him was returning.

  Heller glanced at his watch. Twenty minutes before the first IED detonated. Time to meet Mordini and prepare to take down the Englishman they so wanted him to target.

  Chapter 55

  Her parents would kill her if they knew what she was doing.

  Jenny Ravitz waited to make her move until the FBI agent guarding them had been called away on some matter by her mother. She made her way into the corridor with the windows overlooking the garden at the rear of the compound and slipped the catch on the French doors.

  She half-expected an alarm to sound since the security they had surrounded the family with was tight but this was a chance worth taking. How else was she going to get to see Jimi, the son of the guard she’d met when his father had brought him to work with him? If she set off an alarm she would get no more than a lecture for breaking the rules laid down by her father and mother, that the only time she should ever leave the building was when she was escorted to school by security and that even hadn’t been arranged yet. She’d seen the security men using the door on their patrol of the garden and she hadn’t seen them do anything to disable an alarm – they came in twos with one staying inside to re-engage the catch while the other went outside. All in all, it was a chance worth taking.

  There was no alarm. She walked out through the French doors and made her way to the far side of the garden. There was a wire fence running alongside a line of Leland cypress trees that formed a dense, green barrier to the world outside. Jenny squeezed under the fence and found her way through the foliage. It was so compact she thought she might not make it through but then she saw clear sunlight and made her way onto the Lakeshore where Jimi was waiting.

  He smiled as he saw her making her way out of the greenery. “You made it!”

  “Don’t say I haven’t gone the extra mile to be here, Jimi Bancroft.”

  Fourteen-year-old Jimi was imagining himself as the male lead in the movie he’d seen the night before and was playing it cool. “That’s OK, Jenny. Let’s walk.”

  They held hands and began to walk along the lakeshore, listening to the waves from a passing pleasure steamer lap at their feet.

  They heard it first – a deafening sound.

  Then they turned and watched in horror as the rear of the compound was engulfed in an explosion of fire and light and disintegration. Debris, thrown hundreds of feet into the air as if it had been caught
up in a tornado, was flung back to earth as morbid rain.

  The family area where her mother and father were housed, the place from which she’d just absconded, was demolished, destroyed.

  Jenny started to run towards the explosion. “I have to see if they’re safe!”

  Jimi pulled her back. He held her as tears welled in her eyes.

  His voice was shaking. “You can’t go back there. There’s nothing anyone can do now.”

  Chapter 56

  Early morning breakfast in the hotel restaurant wasn’t given the same level of importance as the evening stints in the bar but it was part of the plan to present me as bait just the same. Craven told me he didn’t care what time of day or night he caught his man so long as he succeeded.

  Debbie Miller was with me, sharing breakfast.

  I glanced around the room and saw the expected crowd – business types, most attending the trade fair, Craven and five, maybe six, of his men trying to look inconspicuous.

  Then I saw him. He was a man I’d seen before with a face I couldn’t forget – Giuseppe Mordini, one of the Lando men who worked for Alessa Lando in Florence, the fat man who’d tried to kill me on the London Underground.

  I thought he’d gone to jail with the majority of the Lando family.

  Yet here he was.

  I turned to speak to Debbie but she didn’t get time to listen to what I was about to say.

  Craven and his men were on the move, Debbie with them. She shouted something as she headed for the exit with the other agents. “Town Lake. They’ve hit the compound.”

  I looked back towards Mordini. A tall, blonde-haired German was by his side. I did not need to question who this was. His look, his whole bearing told me this was the assailant Craven had put so much effort into trying to trap.

  He eyed me with an intensity that left no doubt he was about to strike.

  The trap had been successful. I had flushed out the assailant. The problem was Craven and his men were no longer here.

  And this man with Mordini had known all along this was going to happen.

  Chapter 57

  For Wolfgang Heller, everything was going according to plan.

  He’d met Giuseppe Mordini and gone with him to the Warren Richardson Hotel with three minutes to spare, three minutes before the first of the IEDs he’d positioned inside the Town Lake compound was due to detonate, leaving not enough time for anyone here to react to his presence.

  He looked at his watch and thought how remarkable the synchronization between everyday timing devices was. The detonation would take place now. He breathed a self-satisfied sigh. The enemies in the hotel would be getting the emergency messages on their mobile devices in a matter of minutes.

  Yes, here the messages came. The look of anguish, bewilderment and terror as the truth dawned that the compound and with it the prize they were meant to protect had been hit.

  He watched his enemies rushing from the room, trying their best not to descend into outright disarray, leaving the stage for Heller, just as he’d planned.

  There was the Englishman. It was strange that Matteo placed such a high price on his head when the man looked as weak and degenerate as everyone else here. Though he did none of this in the expectation of personal reward and would have done it anyway out of loyalty, he determined to take the million on offer.

  Heller reached into his jacket pocket and handled the gun. It was remarkable that in this country you could walk in off the street and buy a semi-automatic pistol that would deliver twenty rounds in under a minute.

  It would not be subtle and it would not be satisfying but another name on his list would be crossed off. The Englishmen would be dead. There would be no difficulty in escaping given the pandemonium caused by the Town Lake explosion.

  Chapter 58

  Miles Blake entered the hotel restaurant with Luiz Reyas just as it was emptying.

  A well-dressed man pushed past them. “Out of the way. This is an emergency.”

  They let the man pass and pressed on.

  They had arrived in Austin cursing the delay at Phoenix and concerned that they’d lost contact with Wolfgang Heller. Miles’ first concern had been to be taken to James and Reyas had taken him straight to the Warren Richardson.

  Inside the restaurant, Miles had just a few seconds to weigh up what he found.

  Who were the key players? Why was no one else here responding to the emergency, whatever it was?

  As Miles scanned the room he first picked out his brother James seated on a stool at the breakfast bar. He was looking with shocked recognition at an Italian seated next to a tall blonde German. The Italian was Giuseppe Mordini, known to Miles from the events in Florence. The German pulled an automatic pistol from his jacket pocket.

  From the alignment of these players, James was the target.

  Luiz Reyas picked up one of the breakfast bar stools and hurled it at Mordini and the German. As it clattered into them, the pistol was knocked from the blonde man’s grip.

  Reyas shouted, “It’s Heller. Get your brother out of here.”

  Chapter 59

  Miles rushed towards me and grabbed my arm. “Jim. Get out of here!”

  “Miles, what are you doing here?”

  His reply was a single word. “Run!”

  Miles led me towards the exit and down the stairs into the hotel lobby. We were followed by the Mexican who came in with Miles.

  “They will not be delayed long, Senor. We have a few seconds head-start at most.”

  We pushed through the doors at the hotel front entrance and made it out into the heat of the street.

  A black parking attendant in a bellboy uniform had just taken the keys from an elderly couple arriving at the hotel. The attendant was about to get into the Land Rover and drive it to the underground parking lot when Reyas ran up to him and did no more than raise his right forearm and pull back his shirt-sleeve. One sight of the multitude of star tattoos that Reyas revealed left no doubt what was required. With widened eyes, the attendant handed over the keys.

  Miles was first to the driver’s door and clambered in. Reyas took the front passenger seat and gave Miles the keys. There was just enough time for me to climb into the back seat before Miles drew away.

  I looked behind and could see the reason Miles had not waited a moment longer. Giuseppe Mordini and the tall German, the pistol back in his hand, had made it onto the street. The gun was now being held at the temple of a thirty-year-old dressed in a Florida shirt who had arrived to find himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. He handed over the keys to his Ferrari sports. He was pushed to the floor as Mordini and the German took the vehicle.

  I was thinking, if our escape depended on speed, a competition between Land Rover and Ferrari would have just one outcome.

  There was no prospect of turning. The way forward was a long downward slope into the hotel underground parking lot. Miles powered the Land Rover down the ramp and turned at the bottom to enter the parking lot, the tires squealing on the smooth concrete floor. A few seconds later we could hear burning rubber behind us. I looked back. They were no more than fifty yards away and were closing.

  The parking lot was built as a downward spiral on two levels with parking on each level. We would have to thread our way down to the basement level before climbing up again to find the ramp leading to the exit onto the street at the rear of the hotel.

  Miles was out of breath and concentrating on driving but he was able to smuggle out a few words. “Jim. This is Luiz Reyas. A man you should trust.”

  There was no time for anything more than a short look of recognition between us as we negotiated a sudden sharp bend.

  As we pulled out of the bend, I had just one question for Miles. “Is Julia safe? Is she out of danger?”

  Miles shouted back. “She’s OK. She’s safe. I made sure she’s looked after. Don’t worry about this now.”

  “Back in the hotel bar. I recognized Mordini. But who is that with him?”


  Miles shouted back. “It’s Heller. Wolfgang Heller. All you need to know right now is he’ll stop at nothing to kill you.”

  The Ferrari was no better than the Land Rover in this confined space and we kept our lead. When we caught sight of them as we began the climb back up from basement level, I could see that the German had the passenger seat window open and was preparing to fire if he could get a long enough sighting of us.

  The tires squealed at deafening volume as we rounded the last corner on the way back up and entered the long ramp leading to the street. Would we make it to the top of the ramp before Mordini and Heller closed in and the German could get a clean shot at us?

  As we reached the exit, a shot rang out. The bullet shattered the rear window of the Land Rover. Had I been sitting on the other side of the rear passenger seat I would have been hit but now the significant result was that the back seat was filled with broken glass.

  We were lucky. The bullet traveled on but missed Miles and Reyas, exiting through and breaking a second window as it continued its trajectory.

  Miles shouted. “Everyone all right?”

  I shouted back. “I’m not hit.”

  Reyas opened his palms to say he was unharmed.

  On the street, we pulled out onto North Congress Avenue just ahead of a delivery truck, causing the driver to brake and curse Miles’ driving. For a moment, the stalled truck blocked the exit of Mordini and Heller in the chasing Ferrari. We made the most of this small advantage by making our way along North Congress and taking a right onto West 6th Street where the one-way traffic was moving at speed.

  Miles pushed the Land Rover to the maximum in the hope we would get away, taking chances overtaking and undertaking slower moving traffic. For a while we thought we might make it.