Z-Series | Book 6 | Z-Endgame

by Hatchett

  A kilometre up the track from the station Mamba saw the high-sided East stand of Chelsea’s football ground, Stamford bridge. It was still another half a kilometre ahead of them, but it gave him a far better idea of where he was. He quickened the pace, knowing that there would be shops by the stadium.

  “What’s that?” Dev asked, seeing the stadium for the first time.

  “Chelsea’s ground.”

  “Fuck!”

  “What?”

  “Well, that means we’re bloody miles from where we want to be.”

  “Yep.”

  “We’ll have to find a car or something. We can’t walk all that way.”

  “If we do, I’m drivin’.”

  Mamba thought about it some more as they walked.

  “Actually, we’re betta off gettin’ bikes.”

  “I haven’t ridden a bike since I was a little kid,” Dev said, with wonder in his voice.

  “I didn’t mean a fuckin’ pushbike,” Mamba retorted, bursting Dev’s bubble.

  They trudged along without speaking, just the monotonous slapping of footsteps on wood breaking the silence.

  68

  Day 30 – 16:30

  Tower of London

  Elvis brought the Lynx into land in the Inner Courtyard and no sooner had they touched down, the side doors were slid open and the occupants climbed out.

  Ahmed stood and looked around the area, pleasantly surprised by the cleanliness and homely feel of the place. He’d heard Issy talking on the journey back but had zoned out and just enjoyed the ride. Now he found that there was a reception committee waiting for them and spotted Jack standing there. He was even more surprised when he looked around the crowd and spotted Zak, Isaac, Grace, and Nelson standing there staring at him with what could only be described as contempt in their eyes. He smiled but got no response, so he looked away and saw...Ayla. She was grinning widely, and Ahmed smiled back at her.

  “Come on,” Issy ordered, as she walked past him.

  Ahmed took his eyes off Ayla and followed Issy towards Jack. He could feel eyes on him and forced himself not to look, and instead focused on Jack.

  “Hello, Ahmed. I hear from Issy that you’ve retired from the fight.”

  Ahmed just shrugged.

  “Well, you’re welcome here. Feel free to go wherever you want. Just one thing…if you break our trust, there won’t be a second chance.”

  Ahmed nodded and watched as Jack, Issy and Daniel walked away, leaving him standing there looking out of place. He finally looked around and saw that Zak, Isaac, Grace, and Nelson had disappeared, but Ayla was heading towards him and still grinning.

  “How did you get away?” Ayla asked, stopping a metre or so away from him.

  Ahmed pointed to his leg and Ayla saw the ripped jeans and dried blood. She gasped and was about to speak, but Ahmed beat her to it.

  “It’s nothin’. A scratch.”

  “Then how did you…”

  “Mamba thought it was worse than it is, so I convinced him ta run ta save his own skin.”

  “Which he did.”

  “Yeah, which he did.”

  “Not a surprise really. Mamba and saving his own skin.”

  “No, not really,” Ahmed agreed.

  “So, I’ve heard you’ve been up to all sorts these last few days.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you want to talk it tell me about it?”

  Ahmed thought about it for a few seconds.

  “Yeah.”

  Ayla stepped forward and took his arm and gently led him away.

  *****

  Issy and Daniel followed Jack into the White Tower where a large table and chairs occupied the main floor space.

  Andy, Gina, Travis, and Sean were already seated and clearly waiting for them.

  Issy smiled towards Andy and took a seat next to him, taking his hand below the tabletop. Jack sat at the head of the table and Daniel took one of the other chairs.

  “OK, tell us what happened.”

  Issy told them what had happened, answering their questions as she went. She explained how they had found Ahmed, and what he’d done to lose Mamba.

  “I wondered why he wasn’t in handcuffs,” Jack opined.

  “But you were the one who let him go off,” Issy shot back.

  “There’s not much he can do here,” Jack replied. “Anyway, you said he was here for Ayla, so I took your word for it.”

  “Is she going to give us feedback?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “So,” Gina interrupted, “Mamba got away again?”

  “Yes,” Issy confirmed.

  “How many others survived,” Travis asked.

  “We think possibly four others, or five if you count Ahmed,” Daniel answered.

  “The bastard is fucked,” Travis said, drawing smiles from around the table. “No men and he can’t have many weapons. When the bullets run out, he’s really stuffed.”

  Daniel nodded in agreement.

  “He’s still dangerous,” Jack cautioned, “so we can’t ever let our guard down until we know he’s out of the picture. Remember, there was just him and Ahmed before and they managed to recruit an army, and knowing Mamba, I’m sure he could do it again.”

  “Well, he doesn’t have Ahmed now and he can’t be stupid enough to come after us with only four men,” Andy said. “He’d have to be fucking crazy.”

  “But he is,” Gina replied.

  Issy’s phone rang and she answered. After a few seconds of listening she said, ‘see you soon’ and switched off.

  “That was Bear. The team is heading back. No survivors.”

  The Leaders looked at each other, realising that they’d lost yet another Leader in Dave, and hardly any time had passed since losing Joel. They were all silent for a minute, remembering their friend, until Jack stood.

  “Let’s make sure the place is secure just in case. Issy, perhaps you could speak to Ahmed and find out as much as you can, especially about who is still with Mamba and whether they’re as dangerous as he is.”

  “He may be a bit busy tonight, so I’ll speak to him first thing in the morning.”

  69

  Day 30 – 09:00

  The Fox, Clerkenwell Road

  Mamba awoke on the floor of the pub and glanced around to see Dev and Emre both asleep a little further away, the latter snoring lightly.

  He lay there, thinking back to the previous night, when he and Dev had left the railway tracks at Stamford Bridge and ransacked a few shops to find an A to Z book, food, water, torches, and batteries. They couldn’t find any bikes and didn’t want to waste too much time looking, so they had set off on foot on the long trek to Clerkenwell and had finally arrived at the pub at just after midnight, tired and weary, but still desperate for a quick beer or two before getting some much needed sleep. Emre had beaten them to it by an hour or so, surprising Mamba as he thought Emre would’ve been totally lost for at least the next week. There had been no sign of Faruk or Ismet.

  Mamba sat up, scratching his head and yawning, then almost jumped out of his skin when he saw Faruk and Ismet sitting at a nearby table and staring right at him.

  Faruk: “Morning…”

  Ismet: “Boss.”

  “Fuck! Ya made me jump,” Mamba said, stretching his arms above his head and trying to work the kinks out of his muscles. “How long ya bin here?”

  Faruk: “Long…”

  Ismet: “Enough.”

  “That’s comfortin’,” he said, sarcastically. “Any news?”

  Faruk: “We watched…”

  Ismet: “Them take Ahmed away.”

  Faruk: “He seemed to…”

  Ismet: “Be walking fine.”

  Mamba frowned. That couldn’t be right.

  “How much did ya see?”

  Faruk: “Everything.”

  Ismet: “Yes, everything.”

  “Go on.”

  Faruk: “They walked…”

  Ismet: “A few hund
red metres.”

  Faruk: “Then flew off…”

  Ismet: “In a helicopter.”

  Mamba recalled the heli flying over his head when he and Dev were playing dead on the train tracks. He should have realised that Ahmed was probably on board.

  Emre and Dev had been disturbed by the sound of the voices and were slowly coming around, stretching and groaning.

  “Wass going on?” Emre slurred, looking around and shaking his head to try and wake himself up.

  “Shut up, Emre, ‘n go find us some breakfast,” Mamba ordered. “Let the adults talk.”

  Dev started laughing.

  “Dunno what yer fuckin’ laughin’ ‘bout. Ya can go ‘n help him.”

  Dev stopped laughing.

  Mamba turned back to Faruk and Ismet.

  “Did they swamp the area wiv soldiers lookin’ fer us?”

  Faruk: “No.”

  Ismet: “Nothing.”

  “Nada,” Mamba interrupted, worried that the twins might go off on yet another tour of their negative dictionary. “So, when did ya get here.”

  Faruk: “Earlier.”

  Mamba waited for Ismet to say something, but it didn’t happen.

  “Ya got nothin’ ta add?” Mamba asked, looking at Ismet.

  Ismet: “No, why?”

  “Nothin’, “Mamba replied, shaking his head slightly in surprise. He was so used to them talking in tandem that just one of them talking had thrown him for a second.

  Faruk: “What are we…”

  Ismet: “Going to do now?”

  “Fuck knows. Breakfast, beer, shit, think, not necessarily in that order.”

  Faruk: “We need to…”

  Ismet: “Pop out.”

  Mamba shrugged and watched as Faruk and Ismet got up and seemed to slide to the rear doors of the pub and disappear. They were two weird dudes and he could see why they gave Ahmed the willies. Ahmed. He wondered what he was doing right now. Was he in the prison cell? Was he being interrogated? Was he fucking Ayla? Mamba found that last thought a little disturbing for some reason. He didn’t think he cared, but when the thought popped into his head it was tinged with jealousy. Maybe he just need to get laid and then he wouldn’t care. His biggest worry was that Ahmed might have found what he’d always been looking for and would be happy to settle down, leaving Mamba on his own. After all, he’d been whining for weeks about staying in one place and settling down instead of moving around and hellraising.

  “Here you go, Boss,” Emre said, putting some items on a nearby table and interrupting Mamba’s thoughts in the process.

  Mamba got up, his knees cracking with the effort and sat next to the table and studied its contents. Peanuts, crisps, and a few of bottles of beer.

  “Where’s the breakfast?” Mamba asked, reaching for a beer.

  “That’s all there is,” Emre replied, looking confused.

  “There’s a Gregg’s down the road,” Mamba said, and Emre looked even more confused, if that was possible.

  Dev took a seat and helped himself to some crisps.

  “Where’s the bottle opener?” Mamba asked, holding his beer bottle in the air to show that the cap was still on.

  Emre shrugged.

  “Well, go find one there’s a good lad.”

  Emre turned and headed back towards the bar.

  “So, what’re we going to do now?” Dev asked, around a mouthful of salt and vinegar flavoured crisps.

  “Ain’t decided,” Mamba replied, although he was beginning to wish he’d stayed in Swindon where he had everything he wanted. Well, nearly everything.

  “Not many options,” Dev suggested.

  “Really?” Mamba asked in mock surprise. “’N what would ya do?”

  Dev thought about it, popping a few more crisps into his mouth.

  “Go home. Try and find some of the guys and start again.”

  “There ain’t any guys,” Mamba pointed out.

  “There are. Up at the Broadwater Farm,” Dev replied.

  “I ain’t goin’ there.”

  “Why?”

  Mamba ignored the question. He couldn’t really tell Dev that after killing Volkan and destroying the place, he’d well and truly burnt his bridges with Sami, and that there was more chance of him being lynched than finding a welcoming committee if he ever went anywhere near there again. He didn’t want Dev or Emre to know what had transpired because they might just fuck him off themselves. No, there had to be another option. Thankfully, Emre returned with a bottle opener and Mamba tried to change the subject.

  “Not sure there’s much we can do wiv jus’ five of us left.”

  “So, we go find more guys,” Dev repeated.

  “We ain’t got the weapons anyway,” Mamba added, taking the cap off the bottle.

  “So, we’re giving up?” Dev said.

  “Did I say that?” Mamba shot back. “I’m jus’ sayin’ I ain’t worked out what we’re gonna do, that’s all.”

  Dev went back to his crisps and Emre selected some peanuts.

  “Cheers!” Mamba said, taking a large gulp of beer and smacking his lips. “That tastes good.”

  Mamba pulled a battered packet of cigarettes and a lighter from one of his pockets, selected a cigarette and lit up, offering the packet around.

  “I reckon we need ta chill fer a day or two. Find a few birds ‘n have a party. We got the music from the last time we was here, we got the drinks, we got the fags…”

  “We got the wacky-backy,” Dev added with a sly grin.

  “But we don’t have the birds,” Emre pointed out.

  “Well, we betta find some,” Mamba replied, taking a drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke towards the ceiling, and trying unsuccessfully to do a smoke ring, then had another drink of his beer.

  “Where we gonna find them?” Emre asked.

  “Broadwater Farm,” Dev suggested.

  “I tol’ ya, I ain’t goin’ there.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s a shithole ‘n the birds are ugly.”

  “Never stopped you before,” Emre said.

  Mamba stared at him and Emre quickly looked away.

  “Well?” Dev asked.

  “Oh, fer fucks sake!” Mamba replied. “OK, OK, we’ll fuckin’ go ta Broadwater fuckin’ Farm.”

  Dev smiled.

  “I knew you’d see the light.”

  “I ain’t seen any light. I jus’ wanted ta shut ya up.”

  “It reminds me…there was this young tart at Broadwater Farm a few years ago called Mandy. Everyone called her Randy Mandy, or just Randy. A right goer. This one night she went out partying to celebrate her eighteenth birthday…” Dev said.

  “’N that’s unusual why?” Mamba butted in, before taking another drag of his cigarette.

  “Well, like I said, she’s a right slapper,” Dev continued.

  “So?”

  “Well, her parents had set up a surprise party at her house, with all their friends and relatives invited.”

  “And?”

  “Well, this Mandy gets in late and the whole place is dark and quiet, so she thinks everyone’s gone to bed, but they’re all keeping schtum in the other room, ready to surprise her. Anyway, she goes straight into the kitchen, turns on the light and closes the door and nothing happens for a few minutes.

  “This betta be a good joke,” Mamba warned.

  “It isn’t a joke,” Dev retorted. “Anyway, her Dad is wondering what the fuck is going on, whether she might be making a snack, then beginning to worry she might have collapsed. So, he creeps up to the kitchen door with a few others behind him.

  “She topped herself,” Mamba said.

  “No! Let me finish.”

  “Well, get a fuckin’ move on, it’ll be bedtime soon.”

  “OK!” Dev shot back, getting frustrated by Mamba’s constant interruptions. “Her Dad opens the kitchen door and tentatively shouts ‘surprise!’ then stands there looking a bit shocked, with the others crowding around h
im to see what was going on. This Mandy’s only naked on the kitchen floor and being licked out by the family dog. Embarrassing or what?”

  “No. It’s bollocks,” Mamba replied. “A dog ain’t that stupid.”

  “Mandy found out the dog was a bit partial to peanut butter, so she spread a little on her snatch to get the dog going, if you get my drift. Can you imagine a long tongue like that?”

  Mamba laughed.

  “So, that’s why ya wanna go ta Broadwater Farm so bad,” he suggested.

  “I wouldn’t touch Mandy with your barge pole,” Dev replied, aghast.

  “Nah, yer jus’ goin’ there fer the dog ‘n peanut butter,” Mamba retorted, and started laughing again.

  As Dev reddened, Emre spat a mouthful of peanuts onto the floor and threw the rest of his packet onto the table in disgust.

  “Ya know where this Mandy lives?” Mamba asked casually.

  70

  Day 30 – 09:00

  Tower of London

  Ahmed was sitting at the large table in the White Tower with a steaming hot cup of coffee in front of him. He glanced around the table, noting that each of the Leaders had stopped chatting amongst themselves and were now watching him with avid interest and curiosity, except Issy who was staring at Ayla.

  Ahmed had gone back to Ayla’s room the previous evening where she had made a point of dressing his wound slowly and carefully and making sure he had food and drink and was generally comfortable. Afterwards, they had lain side by side on the narrow single bed for hours, staring at the ceiling and chatting as Ahmed told her what he and Mamba had been up to over the last few days – well, most of it. Telling the story made it seem so far-fetched that Ahmed wondered if it had really happened or whether he had dreamed up some of it.

  There were hundreds of questions from Ayla, which Ahmed did his best to answer. He naturally glossed over anything to do with Chrissy and Marika.

  They’d probably got an hour’s sleep at most, and after a quick shower, Ayla had guided him to the White Tower to meet the Leaders.

  He’d been surprised that these people hadn’t kept him handcuffed and locked up in one of the cells overnight, so they were either stupid, genuinely nice people or they had set a trap and were just waiting for him to try something. Perhaps Ayla was there to keep a close eye on him. Maybe she didn’t have feelings for him, and it was all a ruse. No, he didn’t want to believe that.