The breezeblock right in front of me exploded and the corridor rang with gunfire. I felt a sharp sting as I pulled my head back, scrambling away on all fours, and when I put my hand to my face it came away bloody. If I survived this, I thought, I was going to have a mighty collection of scars to show for it.
I almost giggled at the thought but clamped it down, recognising it for the stress reaction it was. The last thing I needed right now was to lose it and get hysterical.
Booted feet pounded down the corridor towards me, and I stood and ran back the way I’d come, not stopping as I hit the stairs and went up to the top floor.
It was a risk, I knew, but I was planning on Svetlana heading for the commotion and so hoped that the floor was clear.
I ran out into the top corridor, then back to the office we’d first hidden in, pausing to throw the magazine I’d taken from the pistol further down the corridor. It landed in front of the next door along, where I hoped it would look as though I’d dropped it by accident before hiding.
Slipping back into the first office, I flattened myself against the wall nearest the door just as my pursuers burst out into the hallway and stopped.
They had a short conversation in whispered Russian, then went unnervingly silent. It was only the occasional creak of boot leather that warned me they were moving at all as they approached the magazine.
I waited until they’d gone past my door, then slipped out silently behind them with my unloaded pistol in hand. One of them must have caught a flicker of movement because he turned, weapon at the ready.
I reacted first. Before he could fire I charged at him, gripping the pistol by the barrel and slamming the butt into his mouth.
His head snapped back, dropping him to the floor, and his finger hit the trigger by reflex.
Diving to the ground as shots peppered the walls, I rolled and took the second man’s legs out, dropping him on top of his colleague. I checked my roll and drove an elbow into his face, breaking his nose and bringing a scream of rage and pain. But instead of debilitating him the injury seemed to make him stronger.
Throwing me off, he followed up with a kick that nearly dislocated my kneecap. The same kneecap, unfortunately, that I’d injured running after Jake the day I’d first seen him.
Yelling to channel the pain, I rolled with the kick to rob it of force and spun to my feet, my leg almost buckling as the joint began to swell.
He came up pistol first, which was a mistake. Dropping my own weapon, I grabbed the barrel of his and twisted it sharply, snapping his finger and ripping the gun out of his grip before using it to club him over the head.
He dropped, and I threw the pistol into the face of the other man, who was still trying to recover from the first gun I’d hit him with.
It caught him on the forehead, slamming him backwards. I leapt on top of him before he could shake it off, pinning his arms with my knees and driving punch after punch into his face, throat and chest.
To give him his due, he was good. Tucking his chin down he took as many blows as he could on his forehead, the thick plate of bone hurting my hands more than it hurt him. I kept my position the first time he tried it, but the second jolt lifted my knees from his arms. The moment they were free he grabbed one of my fists, twisting it as I punched so that my knuckles struck the floor.
My whole hand erupted in pain then went numb, and he used the momentary distraction to bring a leg up, hook it around my throat and throw me into the wall.
He was up and on me before I could react, half-stunned by the sudden onslaught. Punches rained down, thrown with expert precision, and although I blocked most of them by instinct a few got through, slamming into my already battered face.
Grabbing his throat, I began to squeeze his windpipe between my fingers but he chopped down on my forearm, breaking the grip.
I lunged forward in a headbutt, connecting with his chin and we both fell backwards, dazed.
I recovered just in time to see him draw a knife from a sheath on his belt and drive it towards my stomach. Knocking it off line, I kept hold of his knife hand and drove the blade into the wall, snapping it.
Using the momentum, I continued to turn, grabbed hold of the back of his head and slammed him face first into the wall just above the shattered remains of his blade.
He crumpled, leaving a red smear on the white breezeblocks. I slumped back, gasping for breath, my whole body on fire.
When I could breathe again without panting, I stripped their belts and tied them as I had the man downstairs, this time leaving them where they lay. I didn’t have the energy to drag them into one of the offices.
Nor, it turned out, did I have the time. The door swung open and Svetlana walked in, dragging Sally behind her at gunpoint.
Chapter 48
“Just fucking stop,” I scooped up a discarded pistol and pointed it at the woman who had caused me so much grief and pain. “Walk away.”
“Had enough?” She sneered, gripping Sally by the scruff of the neck and swinging her around to use as a shield. Sally looked at me apologetically, but I kept my eyes on the woman holding a gun to her side.
“As a matter of fact, yes. I’m surprised you haven’t. You’ve got your bloody flash drive, why don’t you just leave?”
“Because I hate loose ends.” She looked almost dainty with her wet hair plastered to her pale face.
“So where does that leave us?” I didn’t dare lower the pistol even for a second, but my palm was dangerously sweaty on the grip. I needed to look competent, ready to shoot if necessary, and not like someone who had only fired a gun twice in his life. If I had to shoot, I knew, it was more likely that I’d hit Sally and I’d rather die than do that.
“At a bit of an impasse. I might be willing to let you both live, but if I do then I need you to understand exactly what will happen if you ever try to come after me.”
“I’m listening.”
“I know where you live. I know where she lives. I even know where her sister and her baby girls live.” Sally stiffened, but I shook my head slightly and motioned for Svetlana to continue. “So if I ever hear anything about, or from, either of you again, both you and your families will die.”
“What’s to stop you from leaving now, then coming back to finish us off? Or better yet just distract me by talking until you see an opportunity. Seems like one of those ‘I take your word and lower my pistol, then you shoot me’ moments, from where I’m standing.”
“Then what, we stay like this all day?”
“Not all day,” I said, careful not to look as the door behind her eased open. “Just long enough for you to tell me what’s on the flash drive. Has it really been worth all this?”
“You really have no idea? Incredible. I’ll bet you still think I killed your brother too, don’t you?”
I watched as four men in tactical gear with NCA blazoned on the front in white crept down the corridor in lockstep. The first two held ballistic shields while the rear pair had MP5s trained on Svetlana’s back.
“If you didn’t, who did?” I’d assumed earlier when she’d stressed that she hadn’t been the one to pull the trigger that she’d meant one of her men did.
“If you haven’t worked it out by now, better you don’t know. If you won’t lower your weapon, I’m taking your woman downstairs. I’ll release her once I’m clear.” She started to turn away and I threw out the first thing I could think of to keep her focus on me.
“You have a daughter, right?”
Svetlana stopped, her eyes going dangerously blank.
“She has nothing to do with this.” The words were bitten off, and I knew I was in dangerous territory.
“You’re holding the woman I love at gunpoint, you’re threatening everyone we love,” I said softly, “I think that makes her relevant. What would she think if she saw you like this?”
Her eyes softened for a brief moment and I saw something that might have been sadness, or even guilt. I would never be sure, however, as the cav
alry chose that moment to reveal itself.
“NCA!” One of the squad that had been creeping up on her shouted. “Release the hostage, drop your weapon and get down on the ground!”
Svetlana spun to face them, putting her back to me in a move that told me she’d known I wouldn’t shoot all along.
“Stay back or she dies,” her voice ratcheting up a few octaves. “I mean it.”
“Last warning, drop the weapon!”
I froze, unsure what to do. Sally now had three guns pointed at her, and I knew that the NCA would shoot through her, if necessary, to take down their target.
“Svetlana,” I called, working my tongue to produce saliva in a mouth suddenly bone dry. “It’s over. Give it up, please. There’s no point.”
“I can’t,” she sounded a little regretful. “They’ll never let me live.”
“Oh, come on,” my temper started to fray. “This isn’t Russia. The police don’t shoot people who surrender.”
“You ignorant fool!” She half turned so that she could see me, the hand not holding the pistol opening to show the flash drive. “You want to know what’s on this? Help yourself.”
She threw the flash drive at me, then shoved Sally towards the NCA squad and dove towards the door to the nearest office. Time slowed as I saw the USB stick spinning in the air. Svetlana flying through the air. The men with the MP5s tracking her. Their fingers squeezing off rounds that tore down the hallway towards us. I dropped to the floor, but as I did so I saw Sally jerk backwards. A small spray of blood puffed out of her back and she collapsed. More rounds slammed into Svetlana, driving her against the wall in a shower of claret that stretched almost to where I lay.
“No!” I ran towards Sally and dropped to my knees, ignoring everything but her still form. I could hear shouting, but the words made no sense as I discarded the pistol and tore at her clothing, seeing blood welling up and staining the fabric. A small hole just below her left shoulder. Ripping my t-shirt off, I wadded it up and pressed it against the wound, desperate to stem the flow of blood.
“Medic!” I screamed, shaking fingers searching urgently for a pulse. I couldn’t find one, but the blood was still flowing so her heart must be beating.
“Don’t you fucking die,” I told her, then looked up as someone approached. Instead of a medic, however, it was Tony Patterson. At first I thought he was coming to help, but he stepped over us without more than a glance, and scooped up the flash drive. Tucked it away in his coat pocket. Only when that was done did he crouch next to me, calmly checking for the pulse I couldn’t find.
“It’s weak but there,” he looked up. “Jones, get up here and do what you can.”
One of the officers slung his rifle, then removed his helmet and balaclava. I recognised him as one of the men who’d been in the nick the other day. He pulled a medic kit from his thigh and dropped to his knees, taking out a dressing that he pressed over the wound as I removed the t-shirt.
“She needs urgent attention,” he said, “someone get an ambulance rolling.”
One of the other officers began to talk into his radio. I didn’t want to leave Sally’s side, but as more officers in plain clothes came in from the stairs, I was gently but firmly pushed away.
I kept watching until Patterson coughed to get my attention. I looked over at him wearily, unable to care about anything except Sally.
“Is she going to be OK?”
“I hope so,” he shrugged. “Hard to say.”
“It was me last time, you know.”
“It was you last time what?”
“That got shot. I got shot and Sally was there to help. It should have been me this time too.”
“Don’t think like that.” He held up a matte black flash drive. “We recovered this, and that’s all that matters.”
I frowned. Something seemed wrong, but my eyes kept moving back to Sally of their own accord. It was hard to think past the guilt that threatened to overwhelm me. If she dies, I kept thinking, what am I going to tell Dad?
Patterson’s phone rang and he answered it, then glanced at me and moved off down the corridor to speak privately. The place was awash with NCA officers now, some moving past me to properly detain the men I’d incapacitated. Others continued to work on Sally. Still more began to bring up forensics kits, taking photographs of the scene despite the fact we were all still contaminating it.
All this over a flash drive, I thought as someone gave me a fleece to cover my semi-nakedness. I just hoped that whatever was on it, it was worth all this. I silently listed the casualties. Jake, Alice, and Svetlana dead, although I found it hard to feel sorry for the last of those. Sally injured, God only knew how badly, officers attacked in the back of an ambulance.
It seemed a lot of effort for one small drive. A matter of national security, Patterson had said when I’d asked him what was on it, back on the day we’d first met.
A pair of paramedics hurried through the door, both slightly out of breath from the climb up the stairs with their equipment. NCA officers quickly moved away to give them access to Sally, and they immediately got to work trying to stabilise her enough for transport.
I couldn’t bear to watch, turning away in time to see Patterson finish his call. He caught my eye and gave me an apologetic shrug, then walked back towards me in a business-like manner.
“Gareth, I’m afraid I’m going to need you to come with me. Your Chief Superintendent wants you back in her office and she’s asked me to personally make sure you get there.” He crooked a finger at someone. “Jones, we’ve got a transport job, we can do the write-up on this later.”
“What about Sally?” I asked. “I want to stay with her.”
“That’s not an option. Right now the best thing for both of you is to try and get at least some of it squared away before she comes round, eh?”
I nodded reluctantly. “I guess.”
“Come on, we’ll drive you back to Brighton. Casey, you’re in charge.”
One of the other officers nodded and began snapping out orders. I let Jones and Patterson nudge me along, pausing next to Sally to bend and squeeze her hand. Moments later she was lost to sight behind the press of bodies, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d ever see her again.
Chapter 49
Patterson’s car was an unmarked grey Lexus, parked at the outer edge of the now-overflowing site. Vehicles of every type were strewn across the concrete, while two officers taped off the area around the van and the Insignia to preserve evidence of the remnants of the fire fight. Most of it had already washed away, but more officers were erecting lightweight nylon tents to save what they could.
“How did you get so many people here so quickly?” I asked over a fresh peal of thunder as Patterson opened the rear of the Lexus and ushered me in.
“We requested an emergency deployment when we looked into the Albanians.” He slid into the back next to me and Jones took the wheel. “Like yourselves, we haven’t got much on them, but your friend Agon has … had links to some big hitters in London. Only a moron would have gone in without a full tactical team, so we called in everyone within a fifty-mile radius, and a good job too.”
“I can’t argue with that,” I agreed. “He wasn’t the nicest of blokes.”
Jones started the car and pulled away, passing several marked police vehicles heading towards the scene. Every few seconds he would throw me an unreadable look in the mirror, and I wondered if he was the one who had shot Sally. If he was, he and I would have words about it, but not today.
“Why did you go off like that?” Patterson half-turned to face me with his back against the door. “Last thing I remember saying to you was ‘wait for my call’.”
“I thought you’d take too long,” I leant my head back on the headrest. Now that I was sitting down every bump, scrape and laceration felt as if I was nothing more than a giant, walking bruise. “I was scared that Sally would get killed while you waded through red tape.”
“And how did that work
out for you?”
“Not well,” I admitted. “Although it could have been worse.”
“Well I think you’re a fool, but you’re a lucky one. Today could easily have ended with you and your missus in body bags.”
“I know.” I nodded, wondering where this was leading. It seemed odd to me that the chief NCA officer was leaving a scene he should have been taking point on, and I suspected that there must be a bloody good reason why.
“While it’s just us in the car,” Patterson threw a glance at Jones, “I have a question for you, and I need you to answer me honestly. Just between us.”
“Go on.”
“Did you, at any point,” his hand fiddled with the seatbelt, “get told what was on the flash drive, or see anything that was on it? I can’t stress how important it is that you tell me the truth.”
“No,” I felt sudden tension like a smack in the face. “No one ever actually told me. Why?”
Patterson studied my face for a long moment, then nodded, apparently satisfied.
“Good. I only ask because if you’d been told what was on it we’d have to get you to sign the official secrets act again, and if you’d seen it? Well, I don’t think there would be a hole deep enough to put you.”
“It’s that secret?”
“And then some. It’s better for you if you forget all about this, as I’m sure Striker will explain. If it’s any consolation, though, despite your less than textbook methods, you’ve averted what could have been a national disaster today.”
“Hmm.”
We drove the rest of the way in silence, Jones watching the road and Patterson apparently out of small talk. As for me, I couldn’t help but feel that a piece of the puzzle was missing. Something kept nagging at me until I shut my eyes and let the events of the last couple of hours run back through my head.
Or I would have done, at least, but all I could see was Sally getting shot, over and over again until my head wanted to burst. To distract myself I asked Patterson the first question that came into my head.
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