“Unit on the ground be advised that we have visual on an old barn about quarter of a mile to your north. So far?”
Cade responded, “Yes, yes, en route. My call sign is India One.”
He looked at Pullen. “He thinks this is a job car!”
Pullen laughed, at last able to relax “Never, not my Tracey, I think she’s as fucked as her namesake was in Ibiza. I may need a new model.”
“Easy tiger. This isn’t over yet, no time to relax – cigars and fat ladies and all that.” Cade warned.
“India One, Eight-Eight, we think there is a vehicle in the barn, some heat imagery but difficult to confirm. To the north west in the cornfield near a tree is another heat source. Suggest one unit takes that over.”
“Roger Eight-Eight, Brownie, can you and your crewmate take the barn? Use caution. Wait for Sierra Two Zero to join you. I think my target may be in the cornfield, I’ll go after her.”
Hazard had pulled up with the local car and was told that another area armed car was en route. The situation was back in control.
“India One continue in that direction, object is stationary, one hundred, ninety, eighty…yep towards the tree.” The observer was watching the ground whilst the pilot kept the chopper in a precise hover, enabling him to watch the barn. They transmitted imagery back to the Leicestershire Force Control Room and an inspector watching the event develop, feeling a little uncomfortable that his own staff were not in control.
Cade had left Pullen at the car and was walking through the golden field at the centre of which and clearly untouched for years was an oak tree.
“India One target is moving on all fours towards the tree, appears to be female, good heat source, good visual, caution she is holding something in her left hand.”
“Is it a weapon?” asked Cade.
“Unsure, India One.”
Hearing the last, Cade instinctively released his Glock from the Safariland triple retention holster. His index finger intuitively ran alongside the right side of the cold metal slide.
He had no need to rack the slide; he knew exactly how many rounds he had in the magazine and there was always one ready. It was pointless carrying it otherwise.
He continued forwards, pistol at the low ready. If the target threatened him, he would come up into the aim and carry out a voice command over the top of the sight. If she presented a firearm, he would shoot her. He had no one to go home to now, but he still wanted to go home at the end of the day.
The corn was so ripe it whispered noisily in the breeze. Looking across the top, it was like a golden sea with channels running perpendicular to the track. He could make out a trail where she had run. He had the advantage, but he somehow wanted to make her realise that he was a friend, not a foe.
Cade heard Hazard moving somewhere behind him. He knew he’d be moving tactically, with the local staff at the rear. He chose not to take any chances and as he was armed, he, too, brought out his Glock, but not before sliding the MP5 behind his back.
He continued along the dusty farm track towards the barn. He had a superb view through the gaping hole in its side, into the cockpit of the Mercedes, which had come to rest up against the back wall. The rear passenger door was open, allowing him even greater visual superiority.
He approached, ever ready with the Glock, pushing it out in front of him, commanding the ground and constantly looking for options.
The driver was inclined at a grotesque angle, his upper body still in situ from the crash; chest leant across the steering wheel, its airbag now deflated like a cheerless party balloon.
His head was jammed into the side pillar between the headrest, and he was motionless.
The second armed unit had arrived and were now deploying, causing the section staff to back up to the comparative safety of their vehicle. They weren’t displaying signs of cowardice, just common sense.
Hazard approached the vehicle. On the balls of his feet, he progressed beyond the rear of the car until he could look at the driver in the bent door mirror. Again, he was motionless.
Perversely he now had to consider first aid. He was after all an unknown quantity; possibly just a driver sent on an errand. It was only Cade’s intuition that led them all to reconsider how they reacted to the situation.
With two staff from the Leicestershire Traffic Department watching over the top of their weapons, Hazard opened the driver’s door.
The male was in no position to fight. He was in no position to do anything. Hazard felt for a pulse and finding no trace at his neck, tried again on his right wrist.
He cautiously rolled his sleeve back, revealing a blue tattoo and a lifeless vein.
“Control, Sierra Two Zero, the driver is one oblique one over.”
Hazard had just passed the message back to his control room that the driver was dead.
Cade heard the message and knew that it may be the motivation the girl needed.
He called out to her in a strong voice, trying to project above the racket of the helicopter.
“You in the field, I am a police officer, I am armed, but if you do as I say you will not be harmed. The driver is not going to cause you any problems; he is being dealt with by my team. I want you to stand up and show me that you have no weapons. Do this and I will help you.”
She didn’t reply.
In the corn she lay completely still, barely breathing, terrified, the months and years that had gone before her now swamping her, overwhelming her coping mechanisms and preventing her from responding.
Cade tried again.
“The man on the plane gave me your note. I am a friend. I want to help you. Stand up and walk towards me. Do it now.”
He combined compassion with an instruction. It was often how situations such as this were dealt with; empathy and control.
The breeze continued to rustle the corn. To Cade’s right Hotel Eight Eight’s rotors fanned the crop, bending it savagely and creating a vortex of dust and plant debris.
He fixed his eyes on the point where she had gone to ground. Slowly, hair first, he saw her rise from the corn, tentatively standing, her arms raised to the sky, still holding a square metallic object.
“Good, drop the item in your hand…good, now turn around and face the tree.”
She did as instructed.
Cade walked through the field backed by one of the two ARV staff and got to within arm’s length.
“Hello, miss, I am not going to hurt you, put your hands on top of your head. Good. Now kneel down, slowly.”
She did everything she was told to do.
The ARV officer stepped forward and placed one ring of his Speedcuffs onto her right wrist, drew the arm down behind her back, then holding the rigid bar between the two loops he placed the second onto her left wrist.
She was now in custody, safe and no longer a threat.
“Eight Eight, one suspect in custody, plenty of staff here. We are resuming back to base for fuel. Good work by the ground team. Eight Eight out.”
With that the blue and yellow Eurocopter banked right quickly gaining height and headed north towards its Derbyshire base.
Cade nodded to the unknown officer, “Thanks pal, nice work, we’d like to take her back to the airport, I think she may be an immigration issue, you can arrest on suspicion of that if it helps. I’ll travel with you if that’s OK.”
It was. The officer got the arrest and with it a potentially lucrative escort back to Spain. Officers around the world, especially those that were based at international borders prayed for a decent run to a foreign clime, a place where they could travel to for free, spend a few nights as guests of the British government and claim allowances when they returned; if the escortee chose to accept their fate and behaved all the way home, then all the better.
He provided the female with the standard caution and ensured she understood. She stood rigid, facing the oak tree.
For Cade, the story was about to unravel and he would have no idea how it would affect him.
Nikolina Stefanescu did as she was told. She had spent years doing just that, but this time as she turned, she looked into the eyes of a man she instinctively trusted. They were blue, bluer than any she had ever seen, and underneath the commanding and somewhat grimy face there was a hint of warmth that she hadn’t experienced for a long time either.
He spoke slowly, but not in a condescending way.
“I’m Sergeant Jack Cade, Airport Police. You are under arrest, under the Immigration Act. We are taking you back to the airport where I will need to talk to you about what has happened today. Do you understand?”
She nodded her understanding; her English was as good as most of the other languages she spoke fluently.
He looked at her. Despite the equal amount of grime it was a disarmingly pretty face that he looked at.
“Do you have a name, miss?”
She cleared her throat and spoke, “I am Nikolina Stefanescu, tortured wife of Alex Stefanescu and mother of Elena. I have been held against my will for fourteen years by the man your authorities wish to capture. I am Bulgarian and wish to claim asylum from my government who wish to kill me. The fat man over there by the police officer, he was on the plane, he promised he would help me. He said he was an agent of the British government.”
Her voice faltered; tiredness and defeat were now playing a part.
She stammered and spoke again, “I have many things to share, things that will help you. They are on the drive.” She nodded down to the ground where an aluminium-bodies Western Digital computer hard drive lay among the corn.
Cade stepped forward and cautiously picked it up and placed it into an exhibit bag that another officer handed to him. He sealed it and placed it in his pocket.
“I think we’ve heard enough, Miss Stefanescu. Let’s get you back to the station and get you booked in, from there we’ll grab a drink and a meal and see what is so important that you would want to claim asylum from. OK?”
She nodded repeatedly, thankful at last that she was dealing with someone that she could trust. She cried for the first time in ten years.
She was led to a vehicle by the arresting officer as Cade walked towards Pullen. As he approached him, he placed his hand out in a gesture of gratitude.
Pullen took it eagerly, his adrenaline levels starting to subside but still evident in the handshake.
“Jack, mate, it’s been a blast. You’ve made an old DJ very happy; you’ll need a statement, no doubt?”
“Oh of course Geoff, but surely you’ll wait to get back to Thames House before you knock that out. Stick it in the internal mail.”
“What?” Pullen had no idea what Cade was referring to.
“It’s the home address of MI5 Geoff, where all good British agents are based.”
Pullen could only smile. He’d been rumbled. It had been an intense experience, and he’d witnessed some of the best operators in action. He would dine out on it for months, but he’d change the names to protect the innocent, he promised.
Besides, the pleasant Sergeant Hazard had offered to fire a round through each of his hands if he didn’t. It seemed a reasonable deal and one he was more than prepared to accept, given that they were the tools of his trade.
Having accepted defeat the profusely sweating DJ wondered into the cornfield and vomited.
As he wondered back to his beloved and somewhat overheated car, wiping the remnants of a partly digested airline meal from his chin, Pullen called across to Cade, “So Jack, I’ll bin those traffic tickets then?”
Cade ignored him and got into the back of the Leicestershire patrol car and wrapped the seatbelt around the Bulgarian.
As his face passed hers she exhaled and whispered, “Thank you.”
Chapter Twenty-One
They had been talking non-stop when Cade announced that they should take a break.
“Nikolina we have been talking for over two hours now, how about I get us some tea, or would you prefer coffee? I’m guessing you must be hungry too?”
She smiled a cautious smile and replied, “Yes, please, coffee and whatever you have to eat. Thank you, you are a good man.”
“I am, I am that. Listen, it’s been a long day, do you need some sleep?”
She didn’t. She was desperate to pass on everything she knew about the group known as Primul Val.
He knew that sooner or later he would have to hand her over to the Border Agency, who would most likely refuse her entry to the United Kingdom and put her on the first available flight back to Spain.
The custody clock was ticking and for now he held her under the Police and Criminal Evidence Act on suspicion of allowing herself to be carried in what they believed to be a stolen vehicle. It was nonsense and the custody sergeant knew it but it allowed Cade to gain as much information from her as possible.
He discussed this with her as she sat in the sterile white-painted room that was sparsely furnished with two plastic chairs and a simple table, bolted to the ground to prevent it from becoming a weapon.
He had returned with coffee, for both of them, as he needed a caffeine fix too and a couple of sandwiches from the nearby café. His ace card was a large carton of fries from McDonald’s.
“Here, eat and relax. I am only here to help you. I have spoken to Immigration; they have allowed me to keep you in my custody until you are able to finish your story.”
He took a bite of his sandwich which despite being two days old tasked like nectar from the gods. He looked at her. She was consuming hers as if she were a street urchin; the long stringy fries were also disappearing at a rate of knots.
She looked up, aware that he was watching her.
“What, why you look at me so…closely?”
He had been caught off guard.
“Sorry Miss Petrov, I must apologise. You are the first Bulgarian woman I have ever met, I was marvelling at your hair and your eyes.”
She raised her eyebrows, almost playfully, “So, you find me attractive, no?”
He knew he had headed down a dangerous path so quickly slammed into reverse, but his damage limitation response failed.
“No, not at all. I…”
“So, you don’t find me attractive?” She pouted, pulling a face that only an eight-week-old Border Collie pup could better. He was putty in her hands and for the first time in many months she was enjoying flirting with a man.
“Yes, of course I do, you are a very attractive woman, but I…”
“I understand Sergeant Cade, you would love to take me out for dinner but you are bound by rules, yes? I know I used to work for government too. Don’t you hate rules? Anyway, this is the most romantic meal I have had for years, so thank you, shining white knight.”
He took a moment to take stock of the situation. A valuable lesson had been learned; never interview a female on your own. Fortunately, he was on a break from the interview and the tape deck was firmly switched off. Quite how he would explain away the time between the tapes was another issue altogether, but in reality this was never heading towards a court hearing.
He began his recovery phase, which started by switching the tape deck back on. He quickly ran through the process again, as he put it, ‘for the benefit of the tape’ and then continued.
“OK, Miss Petrov, just to recap the key points of our earlier interview. You are a Bulgarian national. You told me that you worked for the government in a role which looked at statistics. After a while working with the unit, they deployed you to Romania to gather information on a man you know to be called Alexandru or Alexander Stefanescu?”
He paused, allowing her to interject, she didn’t, so he continued.
“He attacked you, drugged you, and had enforced sex with you. He also murdered another girl and pushed her into a frozen lake. You saw him and his associates do this. He continued to imprison you and abuse you but rather than escape you chose to stay with him, hoping that you could gather enough information to have him arrested, or pos
sibly take an opportunity to kill him? And this was your objective. An objective tasked by the government of your country. Am I correct so far?”
She nodded.
“You are nodding, so I will take that as a yes. This series of events took place over a long period of time until eventually you both travelled to Spain, where you allege that Mr Stefanescu took part in a business transaction with another Romanian male, and that this was connected to high-value cars, drugs and prostitution? Correct?”
Again, she simply nodded.
“I need you to confirm on the tape that this is true, Miss Petrov.”
“Everything you have repeated back to me is true, Mr Cade, except I wasn’t working for Bureau of Statistics, I was Intelligence Officer; this is why I stayed in Romania and Spain, so that I could get the information I needed. I knew the Directorate would end up killing my father if I didn’t assist them. I believe they did in the end, during the winter…my poor father…”
She broke down and sobbed. Many months of abuse were now washing over her, exiting her body in tremors which were evident as painful gasps, open displays of tears and moments of silence, before she started uncontrollably crying once more.
Cade leant forward and switched off the tape deck.
After ten minutes and another drink, she was able to continue. Cade began to wonder if it was an act, after all he was dealing with a professional, or was she in fact a genuine case that warranted asylum and a place of safety?
“Mr Cade, I also knew that the Directorate would kill me once I returned. My father confirmed this. They were as dangerous as Alex in the end. I had no-one to trust, until…”
“Until?”
“Until you came along. Please help me.” She gave him another desperate, pleading look.
He returned her once more to the story that she had allowed to unfold. He knew that Terry Barker was listening intently in another room and also realised that he needed to cover off a number of ‘points to prove’ if he was to have the slightest chance of charging her and removing her from the country. However, the more he spoke to her, the more he realised that he believed her.
Seventh (The Seventh Wave Trilogy Book 1) Page 31