The Operatives made sure they would never recover. Stone gunned one down, Blake rushing in behind him to shoot the other. Nobody else in sight. A broad marble staircase curved upwards. ‘Going up,’ Blake announced. Stone covering him, they quickly ascended.
Flynn powered along the mansion’s side. The drive led to a large detached garage behind it. ‘Turning!’ she shouted. Maxwell held on as she threw the Discovery into a shrieking 180-degree skid. It stopped in front of the garage entrance. Anyone trying to escape in one of Bato’s vehicles would be blocked in.
Blake’s warning in their earpieces was followed by the flashbang’s detonation. ‘Is the back garden clear?’ Maxwell asked, sweeping his gun from the 4x4’s window.
Locke’s reply was immediate. ‘Yes. Go now.’
Maxwell jumped out. Flynn followed, leaving the engine running. They would be making a rapid escape; even a few seconds’ delay could be critical. He signalled for her to head to patio doors nearby. His own destination was farther away, near a fountain.
Flynn reached the doors. She tried the handle. It didn’t move. A single bullet shattered the double-glazed pane. She went inside. A large dining room. She headed for a doorway in the far corner.
Maxwell was still running along the mansion’s length when Locke spoke again. ‘Tony. One man coming back towards you on the north side.’
The house presented no immediate cover. The low walls circling the fountain were the only protection in reach. Shit! He’d made a mistake. The floodlights were now dazzling him—
Movement in the glare. Someone rounded the house’s corner. Maxwell snapped his weapon towards him – but a gunmetal glint warned he had already been targeted.
He dived. A flat rattle from the Skorpion’s suppressor as rounds tore over him. He rolled across the wet grass and flattened himself against the little wall. More bullets cracked off the stonework.
The noise stopped. Maxwell crawled forward a few feet. His bulletproof vest made the movement awkward. He risked a peek over his cover. The glaring floodlights obscured everything. He dropped again – as more rounds hit the wall above.
He was pinned down.
Stone and Blake reached the first floor. Stone got his bearings. ‘All that shooting was over there.’ He pointed at a hallway leading off the landing.
Blake hustled to it. ‘Clear.’
Stone joined him. Another passage led off the hallway towards the house’s rear. An open doorway caught his attention, though. ‘In there.’
Blake took the lead, Stone giving him cover. They reached the entrance. Blake gestured with one hand. On three. A silent countdown – then both rushed through, guns up—
‘Well, balls,’ said Stone, as he took in the scene. ‘Looks like we missed Reeve.’
Two dead men greeted them, blood oozing across the marble floor. Another had made his exit through the broken window. ‘This one’s still alive,’ said Blake. A young man with a cast on his ankle was sprawled over his own crutches.
‘Oh, I know him,’ Stone said, almost cheerfully. ‘Jahmir Haxhi, innit?’ Jammer looked up in surprise at the sound of his own name. The pain on his face was replaced by terror when he saw who had spoken. ‘It’s not your week, mate.’ Stone fired a single shot at the injured man’s head. Blood and broken bone burst across the polished floor.
Blake gave the carnage only a glance as he checked the adjoining room. Empty. He moved to the open sofa. ‘Christ, there’s an armoury in here. Think Reeve took anything?’
Stone went back to the door. ‘Let’s find out.’
Flynn moved deeper into the house, checking each corner. She reached a hall lined with paintings. Battle scenes. Maybe Bato fancied himself as a general. Stairs nearby led upwards. She listened for activity above. Nothing that she could hear. Blake and Stone had gone upstairs; they could deal with that part of the mansion—
A sole squeaked on marble. She turned – as a man ran around a corner. He looked at her in surprise.
Then his gun came up—
Flynn’s weapon was already fixed upon him. Fear erupted on his face. His hands opened to drop the gun in surrender. She fired anyway, stone-faced. Three rounds punched into his heart. He flailed backwards and fell.
She kept the gun aimed down the hallway in case he had company. Nobody appeared. She moved on, passing the twitching body . . .
Another noise, more footsteps. Multiple people, running.
Above.
Reeve hurried with Connie towards the mansion’s rear. She was still in shock, trailing slightly. He looked back as he pulled at her arm. ‘Down these stairs, then through the kitchen—’
Bato came around the hallway’s far end.
Carrying an assault rifle. It swung at them—
Reeve dived for the staircase, desperately hauling Connie with him. They crashed against its side wall as Bato fired. The AM-17 blazed on full-auto. Bullets ripped through plaster and wood and breezeblock. Flying debris showered over them. Reeve had to drop his gun to grab the banister as he fell downstairs. He caught himself a few steps down, yanking Connie to a stop.
Bato ran after them, teeth bared in a snarl of blood-lust.
CHAPTER 54
Flynn was running back to the stairs when an automatic weapon opened up above. The Albanian’s house was turning into a war zone. If armed police hadn’t been alerted already, they soon would be. SC9 needed to finish the job and get out—
She reached the staircase – as a man ran from a doorway to her left.
Flynn spun to face him. Too late. His gun was up.
He fired.
The rounds hit just below her sternum. Even with the vest, the impact felt like a sledgehammer. She fell hard on her back. Her UMP was knocked from her hands. She clawed breathlessly for it. But the man was already looming over her. Hesitation, confusion – then his face hardened—
Another gunshot. She flinched. But it wasn’t from his weapon. The man crumpled, blood gouting from a ragged neck wound.
Alex Reeve descended the stairs. His face was bloodied and bruised. Behind him was a woman whom she guessed was Connie Jones. Flynn glanced towards her UMP. It was three feet away. She would never reach it before he shot her.
Reeve’s own gun was locked upon her head. No vest to protect her. She was dead—
‘Alex . . . ’ Connie’s voice, quiet, scared – pleading. Reeve didn’t look at her – but Flynn knew he was listening. Not so much to the single word as what she hadn’t said. Gun still fixed upon her, he kicked her weapon away – then they ran.
No time to think about his decision. Still straining to breathe, Flynn crawled for her weapon—
She froze at another burst of fire from upstairs.
Much closer than before.
Bato reached the bullet-shredded stairs. He swept around the corner, AM-17 aimed down. Nobody there. Mut! He started to follow—
Running feet on marble. Behind him. Not his own people – they were all dead. He whirled. Two armed men charged around the hallway’s end. Bato’s fury grew. Whoever these bastards were, they weren’t the police. Cops would have shouted warnings, demanded surrender. These had come in shooting.
If they wanted bullets, he would give them bullets.
Stone and Blake saw the AM-17 swing towards them. Both men dived back into cover as rounds shattered the walls.
‘Jesus Christ!’ shouted Stone, scrambling clear of the corner. ‘Who’s he think he is, fucking Scarface?’
The gunfire stopped. Blake brushed splinters from his sleeve and squinted through the plaster dust. ‘We’ll take him on three. Ready?’
Stone raised his UMP. ‘Yeah.’
Another silent countdown – then they darted back out.
Bato was gone.
More bullets cracked off the wall shielding Maxwell. He crawled forward to reach its end. A brief gla
nce. The fountain was now between him and the gunman.
Firing in the house. Heavier weapons, unsuppressed. Bato and his men were fighting back. Time was ticking away, fast. They had to find Reeve and escape before Armed Response arrived. But first, he had to deal with this idiot—
The idiot ran around the fountain to look for him.
Maxwell instantly put three rounds into his chest. The man tumbled to the ground. Stone’s assessment of the Albanian gang seemed spot-on. High on machismo, low on ability.
He checked nobody else was coming, then ran for the kitchen entrance.
‘Through the kitchen,’ Reeve ordered.
Connie recoiled. ‘I can smell gas.’
‘I know. Hold your breath.’ They reached the doorway. Nobody in the steel-and-tile room. ‘Come on.’ They ran for the door—
Its window shattered.
Reeve saw the running man outside a split-second before he fired. He threw himself sidelong, pulling Connie down with him. The bullet cracked past his head.
They landed hard behind a counter. In cover, protected – but trapped. And Reeve knew who was in the garden. Maxwell. A blink had been enough to recognise his mentor.
Maxwell had let him escape once. But Reeve doubted he would do so again. Not with other Operatives so close. Flynn was probably already coming after him—
Someone else was closer. Bato’s AM-17 roared again – from the bottom of the stairs.
Bato pounded down the staircase. Where were Reeve and the woman?
He couldn’t see him – but he did see a different woman. Black clothes, bulletproof vest – one of the attackers. Another surge of anger.
She saw him just as he targeted her, and dived headlong through a doorway. Wood exploded in her wake. He was about to pursue when a window shattered in the nearby kitchen. Reeve! He ran through the doorway, looking for his prey.
And finding them.
Reeve heard Bato coming. He was sure Maxwell was closing from outside. Even holding his breath, the stench of gas made his nostrils tingle. Three ways he could die in the next few seconds.
The only way out was to use them all against each other . . .
He pulled Connie with him and rushed for the exterior door. Bato charged into the kitchen. His machine gun swung towards them. Reeve shoulder-barged the door open. Maxwell was near the fountain. His gun also found its target.
Reeve dived—
Maxwell fired. The round tore over Reeve’s head as he fell. Behind him, Bato pulled the trigger—
Flames erupted from the AM-17’s barrel – and ignited the leaking gas.
Bato recognised the acrid smell a moment too late. He opened his mouth in a cry of fear. The sound never emerged.
An explosive inferno swallowed him. The fireball ripped through the kitchen. Every remaining window blew outwards.
The whole house shook with the detonation. Fire erupted from the doorway and gushed down the hall. A vortex of flame whirled up the back stairs. Stone and Blake, reaching them, hurriedly retreated.
Maxwell saw the flash just in time to hurl himself backwards. The explosion burst out through the door and windows, roiling upwards. He landed hard beside the fountain, cracking his head on the paving.
Even flat on the wet lawn, Reeve felt the heat singe his hair. Connie was beside him. He rolled to shield her as smashed glass and burning wreckage rained down.
The fireball’s orange flare faded, replaced by the harshness of the floodlights. A couple had broken, but there was still plenty of illumination.
Enough to see Maxwell on his back, six metres away.
His silenced UMP-9 lay an arm’s-length from him. Reeve realised he had lost his own weapon. The garden was strewn with flaming debris. His pistol was somewhere under it. A glance back. The kitchen was a gaping mouth in the mansion’s wall, fire swirling between broken teeth. Bato was dead.
Maxwell was still alive, though. He stirred. Reeve forced himself to rise, starting shakily towards the other man.
Maxwell blinked into the floodlights’ glare – and saw the silhouette stumbling towards him. He rolled, searching for his gun. Spotting it. He lunged—
Reeve threw himself at the weapon. The landing was hard – but his hand found it first. He snatched it up. Maxwell clawed for the UMP-9. Reeve twisted around to point it at him. The older man tried to force it away, but lacked leverage. The suppressor swung at his head.
Maxwell finally found grip on the gun and pulled. But to his dismay, he only managed to yank out the magazine. Reeve swatted it from his hand – and pressed the muzzle against Maxwell’s forehead.
His former instructor froze. ‘You’ve lost your mag.’
‘Still a round in the chamber,’ Reeve rasped.
‘I know. So why’s it staying there?’
Reeve tore out Maxwell’s throat mic’s connection before replying. He didn’t want anyone else in SC9 overhearing. ‘Parker’s the traitor.’
Despite the gun jammed against his face, Maxwell managed to express surprise. ‘Parker? Why do you think that?’ The question was more probing than disbelieving. Had Maxwell had suspicions of his own?
‘Doesn’t matter. But he’s working for the Russians. He’s going to assassinate Elektra Curtis – tonight.’
Surprise turned to shock, then caution. ‘She’s his target, yes. But he’s working on an accident. Not a hit. And definitely not tonight – too public.’
‘That’s why he’s doing it. He’s going to kill her in front of everyone, then expose SC9 to the media. To the world.’
‘You got proof?’
‘Not yet. But I will. If you let me.’
Maxwell’s dark eyes fixed intently upon him. Gears whirled behind them, then: ‘That’s my car,’ he said, glancing towards the Discovery. ‘Engine’s running.’ He looked back at Reeve. ‘There’s a drone overhead somewhere. So make it look good. Draw blood. Just . . . not too much.’
Despite everything, Reeve couldn’t hold back a smile. ‘Thanks.’
Maxwell carefully withdrew his hands. Keeping the gun fixed on him, Reeve pulled back—
Then smashed the UMP against his temple.
The blow indeed drew blood. Maxwell’s face contorted in pain, and he slumped. Reeve didn’t think he had hit him hard enough to knock him out. But he didn’t have time to confirm if Maxwell was faking. He had to leave.
They had to leave. Connie had risen. ‘Alex? What . . . what’s—’
‘I’ll tell you in the car.’ He quickly led her to the Land Rover. As Maxwell had promised, the engine was still running. He tossed the gun inside and took the wheel. She clambered in beside him, still dazed. ‘Buckle up. We’ll be driving fast.’
Connie fumbled the seatbelt into place. ‘What do you—’
Reeve saw movement beyond her. Stone and Blake ran around the mansion. They had found another exit on the north side. Blake hurried to Maxwell—
Stone saw the figures inside the Discovery.
Reeve jammed down the accelerator. The 4x4 leapt away from the garage. ‘Duck!’
Stone opened fire on full-auto. Bullets clanked against the Land Rover’s flank. The window beside Connie crazed—
But didn’t shatter. The bullet-proofing held.
Reeve tore down the drive. Another Discovery, front end mangled, stood near the mansion’s front door. He jinked to avoid a body on the driveway and sped through the smashed gate. A hard, skidding turn, going right.
One mission accomplished, but he still had another. And the clock was running out. He pushed the pedal down. ‘Are you okay?’
Before she could answer, the Land Rover shot past a parked Transit van. The drone’s operator was probably inside. Locke. If it had been Parker, Maxwell would have told him his theory was wrong . . .
‘Yeah, yes,’ Connie finally replied. She looked at him. �
�Alex, you – you came for me.’
‘Of course I did.’ She reacted with surprise. ‘Everything that’s happened to you is my fault. This too. I’m sorry. Bato said he’d kill you if I didn’t turn up. I wasn’t going to let that happen.’
She shivered. ‘What happened to Bato?’
‘He blew himself up.’
A sharp laugh, a release of fear and tension. ‘And those . . . other people? Were they SC9?’
He nodded. ‘That was Tony Maxwell in the garden. He let us go.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I think he wants to find the traitor as much as I do. Just for different reasons.’
‘What reasons?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Do you trust him?’
A brief glance at her. ‘The only person in the world I trust right now is you.’
Surprise flashed on her face again. ‘Alex, I . . . I’m sorry.’
‘For what?’
‘For what I said to you. About your father. You’re . . . not like him. Someone like him wouldn’t have rescued me. You did.’
‘Thanks,’ he said, with gratitude. The end of The Bishops Avenue was not far ahead. He slowed. ‘Okay, left or right from here?’
‘Where are we going?’
He noted the pronoun, but there wasn’t time to argue about it. ‘King’s College. The Strand.’
‘From here? Left. I know King’s – I had friends who went to uni there.’ He swept the Discovery through the turn, tyres squalling. The movement tipped her sideways. ‘Whoa! Jesus.’
‘Sorry.’
She managed a faint smile. ‘It’ll take at least half an hour to get there.’
It was Reeve’s turn to smile. The expression did not reassure her. ‘I think I can beat that.’
CHAPTER 55
‘Fuck!’ Stone roared as the Discovery disappeared. ‘Missed him.’
Blake helped Maxwell stand. ‘We need to get after him.’
Maxwell shook his head, wincing at the stab of pain from his temple. ‘No. We get out – the police will be here any minute.’ He checked his watch. Barely three minutes had passed since SC9 crashed through the gate. ‘Deirdre, you hear me?’
Operative 66 : A Novel Page 32