A bullet whizzed by his head, prompting a loud squeal from behind. Matt turned to see the first of the men he had downed slump to the floor. Spinning his head back round, he was met by a pair of blue eyes squinting at him through the open visor.
“Get on,” said the woman’s throaty voice.
“Rosa?”
“Shut up and get on,” she repeated.
Matt leapt on to the back of the machine and wrapped his arms around her waist.
“What are you doing here?”
“Later,” she said. “Let’s get the hell out of here first.”
The cycle shot forward at a surprising pace. They raced into the nearest street. Matt wasn’t sure if the artistry she exhibited with the machine was down to skill or huge dollops of good fortune. Either way they weaved along at a frightening speed, dodging human and inanimate obstacles alike. The noise of angry sirens illuminated the air. It soon became clear to Matt they were being hemmed in.
Three quarters of the way down the alley they saw a police car screech to a halt at the end. Rosa turned left down another alley to avoid the blue and white vehicle only for yet another similarly coloured obstacle to appear. Matt’s heart was in his mouth. This time there were no other turnings to make.
“Hold tight,” she yelled.
Suddenly she lurched the cycle to the right, mounted the raised grid and catapulted the machine above the waiting police officers. He saw them reach for their weapons. Matt fired the weapon in his hand at the tyres of the car in a quick burst. It was enough to make the policemen scatter for cover, either side of the rapidly deflating rubber that once held up the marked car.
The impact of banging back against the hard surface jarred the bones in his body. Rosa somehow kept it upright. They continued to hurtle from one alley to the next, darting between frightened pedestrians. Every time they managed to clear one set of pursuers, another vehicle loomed into view.
“They’re boxing us in,” he shouted in her ear.
“I know. We might have to make a stand,” she yelled back.
Matt had come to the same conclusion. He wanted to avoid a shoot out, though this was preferable to surrender. The first meant a fight to the death, the other meant certain execution.
Rosa brought the machine to a sudden halt and they jumped off. Pushing the cycle into a doorway, she lifted the cover of the pillion seat and grabbed for the holdall. They both took a side of the alley, looking for any empty buildings. Three doors down, he thought he’d found one. Matt whistled to the other side and she darted across to join him. Rosa picked the lock and they were inside.
The ground floor was empty. They stole silently across the vast, open space through to the other side. Rosa unlocked the door and looked outside, confirming it was clear. A quick sprint and they were over to the other side. She picked at the lock while he kept watch. The door opened to her hurried touch.
A young Chinese woman made an unexpected appearance. She opened her mouth to scream. Rosa silenced the intended high pitched shriek with a snap of a wrist. Instantly, the pretty girl dropped unconscious to the floor.
They flitted from street to street, edging them away from the waterside. A sign caught Matt’s attention, The Umwelt Foundation.
“In here,” he ordered.
“No, it’s the wrong way.”
“It’s important.”
“I came to get you out, not get caught with you.”
“Just do it!” he hissed.
He could see Rosa was angry. She picked the lock anyway. They dived inside the small pokey office. One desk adorned by an ancient looking computer sat in the middle of the space. Two plastic chairs and a four drawer filing cabinet completed the sequence, the perfect image of a back street charity shop back in England. He switched on the computer.
“What are you doing?” she seethed.
“Keep watch, I’ll only be a few minutes.”
“Longer than five?” she said.
“Why?”
“Because that’s about as long as we’ve got before they find out where we are.”
The computer might have looked decrepit but it had been substantially upgraded. In a flash the screen demanded the input of a password. Matt never gave it a moment’s thought. One attempt was all he had, two at the outside. He banged at the keyboard. Milieu he typed. Nothing happened. This was his last shot. He typed in, VVRSSX. The reply was instant.
“Matt, for God’s sake,” Rosa called.
A red light started to glow at the bottom left hand corner of the screen.
“You’ve triggered a frigging alarm,” said Rosa, standing over him.
The screen blanked and the computer sank into automatic shutdown.
“They’ve pulled the plug. Now can we go?” said Rosa.
He cursed and nodded. She motioned a hand to indicate the police were fast approaching the door they’d used.
“Try the other side,” he said.
They darted through to the rear of the building.
“We’ll have to backtrack again,” she said irritably.
“At least it’s getting darker, and they won’t be expecting us to retrace our steps.”
Rosa was singularly unimpressed with the observation.
“From here I give the orders, right?”
He nodded for a second time. She slipped quietly out and he followed. Hour after painstaking hour they scuttled from doorway to doorway, building to building. He had been right about one thing. The police search was moving in the opposite direction, buying them additional time. Matt was first to spot the warehouse shape by the dockside. He pointed the building out to Rosa and she nodded. A few rapid hand movements later and they had closed to within twenty yards.
They took turns to scout the vicinity with their eyes. The darkness had intensified, dockside lights barely illuminating the gloom. While this helped them in one way, neither could get a clear view of any surrounding danger which could be lurking close by.
Rosa looked at him through her delicious blue eyes and hunched her shoulders to see what he thought. He shrugged. The place had gone so damn quiet. All sounds of pursuit had evaporated into the atmosphere. They took one more look.
“Three,” she said.
Rosa raised her fist and pointed a finger upwards. A second digit emerged, then the third. Like greyhounds released from a trap, they sprang out into the open and ran like crazy towards the warehouse. Loud crackles of gunfire filled the silence of the darkening night. They returned fire randomly. He saw her stumble. Heat burnt at the edge of a shoulder muscle as Matt called out.
“Rosa!”
She jumped back to her feet and ran again. He followed, and they zigzagged as best they could to reach the side of the imposing structure. Breathless, they fell back against the wall gasping for air. He noticed the stream of blood from her lower leg and bent down to check the injury. She tapped urgently on his shoulder to make him aware of the padlocked door.
Rosa blasted the lock and Matt kicked it open. He helped her hobble towards the stairwell and they hurried up the steps as best they could. They passed the first and second levels, stopping on the third and final floor. The interior was a huge space filled with rows of large, thin container crates sitting atop each other, three high. Anything could be inside. They might have been empty. Matt noticed the passageways to either side and in the middle of the containers, leading to the back of the room. He nudged her forward and they rushed to the end of the floor, making their way down the centre. She dived urgently behind the left row of crates, he to the right. Neither spoke for a while. Matt felt his shoulder. He’d been lucky, a graze only.
“Rosa?”
He was met by the sound of a ripping packet and assumed it was the magic dust.
“Are you hurt badly?”
“I’ll survive,” she said. “What about you?”
“One of the bastards nicked my shoulder.”
He heard her stifled cry of pain and remembered how much the powder hurt when it came into contact with human
flesh. The powder cauterised damaged flesh, in much the same way as applying a red hot poker.
“Do you need some,” she called.
“No. I’d rather hurt.”
“Don’t be such a big girl’s blouse.”
“I don’t want it. Save it in case we need it later.”
For some time they sat quietly, trying to recover strength ready for the expected assault. He could hear Rosa checking her ammunition. Matt decided to do the same. Four bullets was his inventory.
“I’ve got four rounds left,” he said.
“Three,” she replied.
“Not good.”
“No, it isn’t.”
There was a pause.
“We could always carry the fight to them, when they decide to make their move,” he suggested.
“You are not Butch Cassidy, and I’m certainly nothing like The Sundance Kid.”
“They say attack is the best form of defence. It has to be better than torture in a Chinese prison and then execution, unless you’ve got a better idea?”
There was no immediate answer.
“No, not right now,” she said.
They both listened for movement. Everything was quiet, eerily quiet. He wondered if the police had decided to wait them out. Now he had time to think, Matt chastised himself for having got Rosa into this mess.
“You shouldn’t have come,” he said.
“Someone had to save your ass.”
“This is rescue?”
“Sort of,” she replied.
They were both silent for a moment, each sat up against a container several feet apart, surrounded by blackness.
“How did you even know which part of China I was in?”
“Catherine. She told me you might need some help.”
“So who is looking after Gratia?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered.”
Matt exhaled deeply.
“Catherine had no right to ask you.”
“Well if you told me from the start what you were up to, then we probably wouldn’t both be into this mess.”
“You’re saying this is my fault?”
“Who else do you think they were looking for?”
Another silence descended.
“How’s your leg?” he asked.
“It bloody hurts.”
He smiled. It was like old times, when they were both on the run.
“I can’t believe how many police are on this case,” he said.
“You killed one of their own, up at Chen’s residence. You know how police forces the world over feel about that sort of thing.”
“I thought they were all Chen’s men?”
“Nope, I’m afraid not. Catherine told me.”
His head fell back against the side of the container and he sighed deeply. Perhaps Catherine Vogel had been right. He should never have attempted the rescue on his own.
“The worst thing about this is that no-one will ever get to know of the final resting places of Rosamund Elizabeth Cain and Matthew Arnold Durham,” he said in a resigned tone.
“Arnold?”
She began to laugh.
“Yeah,” he said, “Amy’s idea. You remember Amy.”
“Was she the one that worked at The Passport Agency?”
“Yeah, Amy had quite a vivid imagination. You should’ve seen the name she gave herself.”
“What was it?”
“Doris Anne Francoise Thomas,”
Rosa was quiet for a moment.
“You’ve lost me,” she said.
“Spell out the initials,” he suggested.
He could hear Rosa trying to work it out.
“M.A.D and D.A.F.T. Oh now I see what you mean,” and started to giggle.
Matt always enjoyed hearing Rosa’s infectious giggles. The throatiness of her voice made it unique from others. It was no surprise someone like this guy Stefan could have fallen for Rosa. How could any man not?
He cursed his ineptitude. Rosa was due to be married soon. Instead of preparing to enter into a new life she volunteered to come and help him. Now she was here with Matt, trapped in a warehouse facing certain death. He wished there was a way he could get her out of this. The only saving grace was there were no signs of an imminent assault. Whilst grateful for the temporary reprieve, not knowing the opposition’s true intent bothered him.
“What do you think they’re up to?” he asked.
“Beats me,” she replied. “I thought they would have been here by now.”
“Maybe they’ve decided to let us go.”
“Yeah, police are good like that aren’t they?”
Her words made him smile.
“So we just wait then?”
“Yeah, we wait,” she said.
Time ticked slowly by, without incident. They sat silently in the darkness. He wanted to talk to her, for some reason he found conversation difficult.
“Are you asleep, Rosa?” he asked at one point.
“No,” she said, without adding to her reply.
It was a strange peace. On the one hand it felt comfortable. Yet at the same time it felt like there was still much left unsaid between them. He decided to break the silence.
“Are you thinking about Stefan?”
“Sort of,” she said.
“I hope these people give us one last request.”
“Why?”
“Mine will be to have your grave inscribed. Here lies Rosa Cain, sort of.”
She laughed again. It took her a few moments to settle back into serious mode.
“Actually, I was trying to figure out how we might get a message to the reserves,” she said.
“What reserves?”
“They’re waiting for a signal, holed up in a boat moored at the marina. You didn’t think I would come on my own, totally unprepared?”
“Like me, you mean.”
“Like you,” she said.
He thought for a moment.
“So who is looking after Gratia?”
“Hang Chi,” she said.
“Hang bloody Chi!” he said. “What kind of protection can he give Gratia from over here in China?”
“That’s interesting,” she replied after a pause.
“What is so bloody interesting?”
“You quite like her.”
“Strangely enough, I don’t dislike every person I meet in the world.”
Now it was his turn to pause.
“I’m pretty sure it was Gratia who tipped off the Chinese,” he said quietly.
“Why on earth would you think that?”
“Because I didn’t tell anyone else I was coming here to get Catherine.”
“That doesn’t mean anything, Matt. You should know by now. Someone else has had you under surveillance for some time. It certainly wasn’t Gratia that gave you up.”
“Oh really, and do you know what she’s up to right now?”
“Yeah, waiting on a boat in the marina with Hang Chi,” she replied.
“What in the world possessed you to bring her here?”
“You asked me to keep her close, remember?”
Matt cursed and Rosa responded.
“What did you say?”
“I said it’s done now,” she said sharply. “Jesus, don’t tell me I’m going to have you as well as her Dad on my back.”
“You know her father?”
“Of course I do. So do you.”
“No I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. It’s Gerhardt you big lump. Gerhardt is her father.”
Matt was shocked.
“But Gerhardt’s Austrian, Gratia is German.”
“Gerhardt is German. He met Martha while on holiday in St Wolfgang, and left his first wife to marry her when Gratia was still young. That’s why the two of them don’t get along. Gratia has always blamed Martha for the break up.”
Matt banged his head against the container in frustration. It was all so obvious to him now. He was quiet for a while.
“None of them said anything to me. Not even Martha.”
“They must have thought you knew.”
“God, I must be thick,” he wailed.
Rosa gave out a throaty laugh.
“You’ve only just worked it out.”
He retreated into silence. More time dragged agonisingly by. Dawn had begun to show, rays of sunshine piercing the slits in the wooden frame of the warehouse. Their end must surely be approaching. Matt’s mind slipped into melancholy and despair. He never believed for a single moment he would be the one ultimately responsible for ending Rosa’s life.
“You shouldn’t have come here, Rosa. Not for me,” he whispered.
She didn’t respond immediately and he wondered if she was going to answer.
“I wanted to come,” she replied softly.
Matt shook his head in silent anguish. He didn’t want her to die here. Matt would gladly sacrifice his life if it meant Rosa could return to safety. Her escape would mean Gratia would continue to be protected too. Even this was now out of his hands.
Suddenly, there was a sound of movement from the front of the floor. Both startled into life as the sunlight finally broke into their night cell. The two drawn faces could now see each other clearly. He realised there was no further time for words. Matt tried to give her a reassuring smile. Rosa’s expression failed miserably to conceal her inner sadness. He watched as she slowly raised her clenched fist into the air, and nodded to indicate he was ready. The first finger lifted up and pointed to the sky. Then the second finger sprang into view.
Matt readied himself for the suicidal assault.
Chapter Twenty Seven
The Steel Trap
Milieu Dawn Page 26