Killsong

by Mark Mannock

  We walked in silence for about 200 feet before I felt a fresh breeze on my face; it seemed to come from the far end of the tunnel. We had rounded several bends so far, but as we rounded the last one, I saw a dim light. We then started going up instead of down.

  Two minutes later we walked into a small concrete-lined room. Moonlight shone through iron grates covering an opening in the wall that looked out over the sea. The breeze was stronger now. In the center of the room was a large, aging searchlight, obviously at one time an essential part of the old battery’s defense system. My eyes, however, were glued to the sight of the two women and little girl who were sitting on the floor, leaning against the half-wall below the opening. Leyla, Kaitlin, and Amira looked dreadful.

  Leyla looked totally worn out. She had bruises on her face and her clothes were torn. Amira sat whimpering next to her mother. Kaitlin had fared no better. She had been a captive of Winter for less time than the others, but from the look of her she had been brutalized, probably while being questioned about my activities. Bruises covered her face, and she had some cuts and burns on her arms.

  I felt my temper rise, but I swiftly quelled it as a luxury I could not afford. It was then that I noticed the other two figures in the room: Santori in a shadow to the right, and an unknown enforcer to the left. They both had automatic machine guns trained on the girls. It took me several seconds to speak.

  “Leyla, Kaitlin, my little Amira, are you all right?” My voice sounded strained, even to me.

  A light flickered in Leyla’s eyes when she looked up and saw me. Then, as she looked around the room, it disappeared.

  “We are surviving, Nicholas,” she answered.

  “Will we be okay now?” asked Amira, her voice fragile and weak.

  “Of course you will,” I said.

  I moved forward to hug her, but Santori’s fist came out of the shadow and sent me lurching back across the small room.

  Amira screamed.

  “Weren’t you taught not to lie to children, Sharp?” Winter sneered.

  Even in this situation he could not allow a little girl a moment of false comfort. At that second, I was certain that if the opportunity arose, I would end Giles Winter’s life tonight.

  Winter continued, “It is time for me to wish you my condolences and leave.” He nodded at Santori and his offsider.

  “Wait five minutes, then you know what to do, Santori.”

  Santori nodded. I didn’t like the look on his face.

  With that, Winter turned and fled up the tunnel, clutching his precious and deadly package.

  The situation appeared hopeless. Winter’s two men, each with a rapid-fire weapon, the three girls, worn out, tired beyond caring, and me. I was tired, I was sore, and I had no weapon, but I also had no intention of letting it all end here.

  We waited the full five minutes. I counted it out.

  Santori waited because he was instructed to. I waited because I wanted to give Greatrex a chance to improve the odds upstairs. I also didn’t know quite what I could do down here without endangering the girls any further.

  Then, “Do it, Nicholas.” Kaitlin spoke for the first time. “There’s a chance you may be able to save Amira.”

  Brave woman. I liked her a lot.

  “Shut up,” said Santori. He began to raise his weapon.

  “I don’t need to do anything,” I said.

  Kaitlin looked confused. So did Leyla. For a fraction of a second Santori looked confused too. That’s all it took.

  The sound of a gun firing startled everyone, none more so than Santori’s offsider, who saw a red patch appear on his arm. In the same second I catapulted myself across the room, grabbing Santori’s gun with both hands and sending him to the ground. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Greatrex barreling around the final tunnel corner and into the room. The gun he had just fired was still in his hand. Greatrex’s victim saw him too. Even in his injured state, Winter’s man managed to sidestep the big fella’s charge and floor Greatrex with a powerful right jab.

  I was caught unprepared as I felt Santori’s fist smash into the side of my head. I went back against the wall, hitting my head on the concrete. He made a bid for his gun; it was still in my hands, but my grip was weak. As Santori snatched the weapon and raised it to fire, I could see through blurred vision that he wasn’t aiming at me. He was aiming at Greatrex, who now seemed to be getting the better of his injured opponent. As I leaped at him for a second time, Santori turned to me and fired, but his shot went wide.

  “Get out now,” I screamed at the girls. There were too many bullets in an enclosed space for anyone to be safe. “Go now,” I repeated.

  Leyla and Kaitlin ran up the corridor with Amira between them. I didn’t know what was waiting for them at the end of the tunnel, but it would have to be better than this.

  It had been a mistake to take my eyes off Santori; he had regrouped and came at me with a sharp kick to my right knee. It brought me down—the pain was overpowering.

  Greatrex must have seen me fall. He had finished off his opponent with a final punch and then dived across the room toward Santori, but the space was too wide for him to cross it in time. Again, Santori lifted his weapon and pointed it at my friend. Greatrex grabbed at the spotlight to his left for cover, but it wasn’t going to be enough.

  As Santori fired I flicked my good leg out and tripped him. The shot went wide but still collected Greatrex in the shoulder. Jack grunted in pain as he went down. I had one last chance and took it. I sprung up on my single available leg and threw all my weight on Santori. He was looking at Greatrex, so he didn’t see me until it was too late. I took him down hard, punching him with as much strength as I could muster as he fell. He dropped the gun. It was out of his reach but just within mine. As I reached for it, Santori clambered to his feet and came at me with a knife that he seemed to produce from out of nowhere. I threw myself out of his way, slamming into the wall again. As Santori turned for another run at me I grabbed the gun, raised it, and fired. My opponent was dead before he hit the ground.

  I looked over to Greatrex.

  “The girls,” I yelled.

  Clutching his shoulder, Jack was two steps ahead of me as I limped my way up the tunnel. My knee was causing me grief, but I kept moving. We were each now carrying an AK-47. I was pleased we were properly armed, especially considering the physical state we were both in. We passed the limp body of Winter’s man Preston. Greatrex’s previous handiwork, I presumed. We ascended the spiral stairs and ran as best we could out onto the parade ground.

  I had got three paces into the open when I sensed the gunshot, as much as heard it, as a bullet went whistling over my head.

  “Don’t even think about moving.”

  Silhouetted in the moonlight was Elliot Brooks, holding a pistol. If it had been pointing at me, I would have taken my chances and just let loose with my machine gun. But the gun wasn’t pointing at me, it was pointing at Amira. Brooks held the little girl around the neck, his gun an inch from the side of her head.

  “Drop your weapons, both of you, now,” he commanded.

  We dropped our guns. The next sound we heard was tires screeching on the road at the other side of the battery entrance. I put two and two together.

  “Your faithful pal, Giles Winter, has abandoned you, Brooks. How does it feel?” I shouted across the parade ground.

  It was only then I noticed Kaitlin and Leyla in shadow on the ground about ten feet from Brooks and about twenty feet from me. They were alive, but they didn’t look good.

  “We tried to stop them,” said Kaitlin.

  Looking at a wound that was bleeding from her thigh I thought she had given it a good go.

  “Nick … Amira.” Leyla sounded desperate.

  My first goal was to get between Brooks and the women.

  “Don’t be a fool, Brooks. Let her go and you can walk out of here.”

  “Not a chance, Sharp. If it ends here for me, it ends here for us all.”

&n
bsp; “I don’t think that’s how Winter looks at it,” I responded as I glanced toward the entrance. As I talked, I walked toward him.

  A quick look of frustration crossed his face. It was visible even in the moonlight.

  “Not another step, Sharp.”

  As he spoke, Brooks backed up toward the gun placements, dragging Amira with him.

  I stopped. Brooks appeared to have all the cards, because he had that sweet little girl.

  I could feel Greatrex behind me, agitating, waiting to push forward.

  When in doubt, cause confusion, create misdirection. I learned that at training.

  I jumped backward into the shadows near the tunnel entrance.

  Brooks was momentarily perplexed.

  “That’s it—run, hide, you coward. I knew there was nothing to you.”

  As I hit the shadows, I reached around for one of the packages I’d dropped off earlier. My hands found the cloth, removed it, and grabbed at the revolver. I turned and aimed it in Brooks’ direction. I was still out of his sight.

  It was a risky shot with only a handgun, but I took it. The sharp sound of the firing gun echoed around the walls of the battery. The bullet found Brooks’ right arm. I had needed to aim as far away from Amira as possible. In the time it took Brooks to realize he’d been hit, Greatrex charged across the parade ground like a madman, first putting himself between Brooks and the women and then continuing his assault. Unfortunately, Brooks had not dropped his gun, even after being shot. He passed it to his other hand, held it up, and pointed it at Greatrex. The big fella stopped dead in his tracks; he had no choice.

  “Looks like we’ve both been abandoned,” Greatrex shouted, looking directly at Brooks. “Let’s talk this through.” Jack was buying time.

  Although Brooks had the gun in his left hand, his arm was still around Amira’s neck.

  “That may well be, but I’m leaving here with this child. What you do now will decide whether she lives or dies.”

  Then Brooks broke out his despicably condescending smile. He shouldn’t have done that.

  I had managed to stay in the shadows and work my way around to the furthest gun placement. There were half-walls between each of them. I could easily conceal myself as I moved closer.

  Greatrex kept Brooks focused ahead of him as I came around the last wall behind him. I lunged forward and knocked Brooks to the ground. He released his hold on Amira to break his own fall. The stubborn bastard still hadn’t dropped his gun. We had both hit the ground, but he got up more quickly than me. He aimed the gun at me and started to squeeze the trigger.

  He didn’t finish. Greatrex had closed the remaining distance in an instant. He grabbed Brooks around the neck. I grabbed Amira and threw her into her mother’s arms. For a minute Greatrex and Brooks struggled. I couldn’t see a way to get in and help. Next thing, Greatrex lifted Elliot Brooks above his head and threw him over the wall of the gun placement and over the cliff edge, not a bad feat for a man with a bullet in his shoulder. Brooks’ tortured scream was the last sound we heard as he fell hundreds of feet to the rocks below.

  Then Jack Greatrex collapsed.

  “See to him. Don’t let him bleed out,” I shouted to the girls. Amira was sobbing in her mother’s arms. Kaitlin ran toward Greatrex, ripping her shirt off as she ran. Any bandage would do.

  I had no choice in what I had to do next. A very bad man was getting away with a weapon that could hurt, maim, or kill thousands of people, and I had given it to him.

  I planned to get it back.

  Dragging my injured leg behind me, I hobbled as fast as I could through the battery entrance and into the car park. The black Mini was where I had left it; I climbed in and pressed the starter. Nothing. Winter’s man had taken the key. Damn!

  I looked around. Across the car park was the Ford we had pursued across the island, Brooks’ car. I made my way over to it. I was getting desperate; every second was vital if I was to catch up with Winter. The altercation with Brooks had cost precious minutes. I climbed in—the key was there. I started the engine and floored the accelerator as I sped down the track toward the road.

  A few seconds later I hit the asphalt road that ran across the top of the cliffs and turned onto it. I paused for a second to see if I could locate Winter’s car, or at least his lights along the dark winding road. In that moment, when I saw the car lights, my heart sank. There was only one car on the road; it had to be Winter, but he was way too far along. I would never catch him, not a chance. I had failed. Giles Winter was going to get away. He was going to be able to spread more fear and death, and it was going to be my fault.

  I was attempting to hold back tears of frustration and anger as I surveyed the scene in front of me. In the bright moonlight I could see it all so clearly. Winter had been clever. Winter was always clever. The man had his escape route planned out well in advance. As his car wound down the distant cliff road, I could see he was almost at sea level. At the end of the road Winter sped along was a jetty protruding into the bay. At the end of the jetty was a boat, a fast-looking half-cabin with two large outboard engines on its stern. I then looked across the bay and saw the bigger picture. The dark silhouette of a large motor yacht with all its running lights turned off appeared stationary just off the headland. It didn’t take much to figure out Winter’s strategy. He was going use the boat at the jetty to get to the yacht and then disappear.

  It seemed like a slow-motion dream as I watched Winter climb out of his car and run along the jetty. The light from the almost full moon was so bright I could even make out what I assumed to be the package of chemical weapon samples clutched under his arm. Where were they going to end up? “Demonstrative attacks,” he had said. Who was going to die? … Who was going to die … because of me?

  I just sat there in the driver’s seat of Brooks’ car, helpless, defeated, and beyond frustrated. I looked around me, as if someone, something, anything could help. There was nothing. It seemed like forever, but it was probably not more than a minute that I sat there and watched Winter climb onto the boat from the jetty. I pounded the steering wheel in anger.

  I looked behind me, as if waiting for the cavalry to come over the hill. And there it was—not the cavalry, but a glimmer of hope. I should have noticed it earlier. Lying on the back seat was a soft case. In it would be the rifle that Elliot Brooks used at the festival. Perhaps there was a chance.

  I wasted no time. I jumped out of the car, opened the rear door, and pulled Brooks’ case out. I could feel the sweat pouring down my forehead as I ripped it open. Then, there it was, the familiar shape of an M40A5 bolt-action sniper rifle. I frantically pulled it out.

  The urgency was overwhelming. The big question now was ammunition. Did the rifle have any? Surely, Brooks would not be so egotistical to think he would only need one bullet when he attempted to take Robbie West’s life. I pulled out the detachable box magazine. Brooks had been egotistical; he had thought he would only need two bullets at most. There was one round left.

  I reloaded the magazine and ran around the front of the car to the cliff edge. There was no bipod to steady the rifle, so I grabbed a decent-sized rock and lay down on the ground. Resting the long barrel of the M40 on the rock, I looked through the familiar AN/PVS universal night sight, which allowed me to focus far ahead across the waves to Winter’s boat. He had left the jetty and was heading toward the dark outline of the yacht. I wouldn’t have long to make this work, if I could make it work. Winter was heading north, away from me. Every second counted. The boat looked to be around one thousand yards away. The accurate range of the rifle was around eleven hundred yards. I would have about twenty seconds to take the shot, twenty-five at most. I felt my heart pounding like a hammer in my chest.

  The wind had picked up to around fifteen knots. I would have to take that into account. It didn’t help my chances any. Winter’s boat was going into the chop of the waves, white-capped crests of water surrounding it. I would have to time the shot and my breathing with the m
ovement of the waves. I rated my chances of success at around two percent, but two percent was better than none.

  I slowed down my breathing and began to feel the rhythm of the waves as the boat moved through them. I needed to make the shot in the space between exhaling and inhaling to keep the rifle barrel steady. I was soaked in sweat, and my nerves felt as though they were ready to explode.

  Then he was there. I had Winter in my sights, my hands were rock steady—no nerves this time, not like a few days before in Iraq. That surprised me.

  Breathe slowly, easily. The boat rises, the boat falls, wave by wave. Breathe out steadily. I thought briefly of Akram Salib. I thought of the terror on Amira’s face when Winter held a gun to her head. I thought also of the people who would die if Giles Winter lived. I slowly finished exhaling, my sights were on the back of Winter’s head. I counted one, two … and squeezed the trigger.

  The sound of the shot echoed through the night, but I kept looking through the sight. I saw Giles Winter fall sideways and slump against the controls of his boat. I had him. As relief poured through me, I started shaking. It was difficult to keep my sights on the boat, but I tracked its path.

  The bow seemed to rise and increase in speed as Winter fell. It was hurtling over the waves now, being thrown in the air and landing precariously again and again. It was clear that Winter was either dead or totally incapacitated. No one was controlling that boat now. Then, to my surprise, it began to veer left, tracing a large arc and heading toward the rocks at the bottom of the chalk cliff face below me and to my left.

  The boat was traveling faster and faster; it seemed to be spending as much time in the air as in the water. I could hear the twin engines over-revving; emitting a piercing metallic screech.

  One hundred feet, fifty feet, twenty-five, and then … the explosion was monstrous. Flames leaped forty feet in the air. The fuel tanks had ignited on impact as Giles Winter and his boat simply ceased to exist. Then it hit me—that meant the chemical weapon and nerve agent samples would have been incinerated.