Endgame (Agent 21)

by Chris Ryan

The gunman licked his lips. ‘Well . . . let’s see the colour of it, kid.’

  Zak stepped forward again. This time, the gunmen didn’t object. He loosened his backpack, dropped it into the snow and then pulled out all his dollars. He waved them in the direction of the gunmen. They nodded. The guy with the red-painted handgun lowered his weapon. Zak approached. As he got closer, he saw that these two guys were very lean, probably in their early twenties, and looked extremely similar. Tasha’s brothers, presumably? They wore jeans and heavy, checked lumberjack shirts, and they had sharp, suspicious eyes and weather-beaten faces. He handed the notes to the man who had lowered his gun. The man examined them closely, then shoved them in a pocket. ‘All right, kid,’ he said. ‘Get your friends and come inside.’

  The two brothers – Zak was now sure that they were brothers – turned back into the shack. Zak waved at Ricky and Malcolm to follow him in.

  The inside of the shack comprised one big room. It was a poor place. It looked like it had been built from the discarded parts of twenty other houses. The windows – two at the front, two at the back – were different shapes and sizes. There was a large wood-burning stove in the middle. It had a battered saucepan resting on the top, and an unmatching metal chimney protruding from the back and up through the roof of the shack. Snow the dog was curled up in front of it, but his mismatched eyes were still open and alert. There were odd, shabby sofas and a selection of tired mattresses on the floor. Haunches of cured meat hung from the ceiling, alongside bunches of dried leaves. It was dark. The only light came from the stove, and from a large yellow candle that smoked in one corner, casting flickering shadows on the walls.

  Sitting on one of the sofas were a much older man and woman. The man had a messy grey beard, wore a red bandanna and had the same sharp, suspicious eyes as the two brothers. The woman had Tasha’s pointed nose, and a face that was as cold and unfriendly as the snow outside. Tasha herself was sitting cross-legged on one of the mattresses, her rifle lying across her lap. She was humming tunelessly to herself. Nobody else spoke as Zak, Ricky and Malcolm traipsed in, closing the door on the howling weather outside.

  They stood there in silence for a full thirty seconds before the old man spoke. ‘You’s from that drug place?’ he demanded.

  ‘What drug place?’ Zak asked.

  Tasha pointed in what Zak thought was a northeasterly direction. ‘Couple miles over there. Dealers moved into an old deserted farmstead thataways. They made a big score in the city. Word is, they’re sitting it out with their cash till the heat dies down. Tyler and Travis thought you was some of them. I told them straight, you looked like newcomers to these parts, but . . .’

  She pointed at her brothers in turn as she said this. Tyler – who had the painted gun – was the taller of the two. He had wispy stubble and a pointed chin. Travis was clean-shaven, and one of his front teeth was missing. They both looked like they could use a decent meal.

  ‘Wherever you’s from,’ the old man said, ‘I’m guessing you’s a long way from home.’ His voice was low and gravelly.

  ‘We only need a few hours’ shelter,’ Zak said. ‘Then we’ll be on our way.’

  The old man gave them an unpleasant grin that showed half his teeth missing. ‘Who you runnin’ from, kid?’

  ‘We’re not running from anyone. We’re looking for some friends.’

  ‘Right,’ said the old man. ‘Friends.’ He clearly didn’t believe them. ‘Tyler, Travis, dust ’em down. Check they ain’t packing.’

  It took a couple of minutes for the two brothers to satisfy themselves that apart from the hunting knife Zak carried their guests had no weapons, either on their person or in their packs. Just rags of oil-soaked fabric, and the rest of what remained from their looting of the vehicle.

  ‘They’re clean, Pop,’ Tyler said. ‘’Cept for this knife here.’ He tossed it from hand to hand. ‘I’ll be holdin’ onto this,’ he said, looking at Zak, ‘whilst you in our home.’

  The old man stared at them. Zak could tell he was deciding whether or not to let them stay. Snow the dog suddenly got to his feet. He trotted over to where Ricky was standing and rubbed his thick fur against Ricky’s trouser leg. The dog’s approval seemed to satisfy the old man a little. He pointed to a far corner of the shack where there was nothing but hard floor. ‘You can lie down there, get some shut-eye. But we don’t have no food to spare, and I want you out of here when the sun comes up. Strangers don’t welcome us, and we don’t welcome strangers.’

  They moved to the corner of the shack and set down their bags under the watchful eyes of this strange family. Zak didn’t trust them not to rob them while they rested – he reminded himself that even Tasha had only offered to help once they’d brought up the subject of money. One of them needed to stay awake. ‘You sleep first,’ he muttered to Ricky. ‘I’ll wake you when I can’t stay up any longer.’

  Ricky nodded. The three of them lay down, using their backpacks as pillows, under the mistrustful eyes of Tasha and her family. Malcolm was instantly snoring. Ricky seemed more twitchy, but after five minutes Zak heard the slow, steady breathing that told him he too had fallen asleep.

  Zak lay on his side, keeping watch on the shack. The others had taken to their beds, apart from one of the brothers, who sat in a rickety armchair with his weapon across his lap. He didn’t take his suspicious eyes off Zak.

  It was uncomfortable on the floor, but it was warm. And although Zak knew he should be staying awake, he soon found his eyes and limbs getting heavy. The flickering of the candle almost hypnotized him. A tiny voice in the corner of his mind urged him to stay awake. But the exhaustion was too great. The flickering shadows in the room receded into darkness as he fell asleep.

  ‘Where is it? WHERE IS IT?’

  Zak woke with a start. It was light in the shack. Tyler was leaning over him, and his thin face was furious.

  ‘Wh-what are you talking about?’

  ‘My gun – the red one – it’s missing. Where is it, kid?’

  Zak sat bolt upright, cursing himself for having fallen asleep. Ricky and Malcolm were still sleeping beside him. He looked at his watch. It was 8:30 a.m. Panic surged through him. He had slept too long. There was just under forty hours until Cruz’s deadline, and they were no nearer to Little Diomede Island than they had been the night before.

  Tyler was very agitated. He pulled Zak roughly to his feet, then dragged him across the shack, opened the door and hurled him outside. The snow had obviously been falling heavily while he’d been sleeping, because there was no sign of their tracks from the night before. And the weather was still foul. Tasha and her family were standing ten metres away by a small fire, obviously arguing. They fell silent as Zak tumbled into the snow. They stared at him in a very unfriendly manner – except Tasha herself, who looked slightly apologetic. Snow, as always, was by her side.

  Tyler loomed above him. ‘He stole my gun!’

  ‘I didn’t steal anything,’ Zak snapped back. ‘Search me if you like. Search my friends. Search the packs.’

  His offer silenced Tyler momentarily. ‘I will,’ he said. But he didn’t turn back into the shack.

  ‘Maybe you dropped it in the snow,’ Zak said, trying to sound as calm as possible. ‘I’ll help you look.’

  ‘What do you’s think I am?’ Tyler retorted. ‘An idiot?’

  ‘That’s enough, son,’ growled the father. ‘We’ll find the weapon soon enough.’ He looked at Zak. ‘You’s can’t stay here,’ he said. ‘Those city folk don’t like us living out here on our own. If they think we’re harbouring good-for-nothings, they’ll be out here, knocking down our house, messing with our way of life . . .’

  Zak pushed himself up to his feet. He could feel the enmity coming from this strange, wild family. He needed to choose his words carefully. ‘I haven’t got much time,’ he said. ‘I really need your help.’ He directed this towards Tasha, since she seemed the least hostile.

  But this seemed to enrage the father all the more.
He stormed up to Zak, his face red. ‘I’m the head of this family. You speak to me . . .’ he fumed.

  Zak nodded. ‘I apologize,’ he said calmly. ‘I need your help. I have to get to the Diomede Islands. It’s incredibly important. Life or death. There are no planes from Anchorage, so I need to get there cross-country.’

  The old man stared at him for a moment, his eyes narrowed as if he thought Zak was having him on. Then, slowly, he broke out into a mirthless laugh. He turned to his family. ‘You’s hear that?’ he called. ‘You’s hear that? Kid’s out in the snow for a couple of hours, almost gets mauled by a grizzly. Now he wants to cross Alaska off his own back in the middle of winter!’

  The two brothers started laughing too. Tasha and her mother, however, didn’t even break a smile. The old man walked back to his family, waving one arm in the air. ‘Take my advice, kid. Pack your bags, take your friends and get the hell back to the city. You ain’t cut out for the wild life.’

  Zak didn’t move. He kept his gaze on the old man as he stomped back to the fire and held his hands out to warm them. When he saw that Zak was still staring at him, a shadow crossed his face. ‘I said, get out of here, kid!’ he barked.

  ‘I’ll pay the rest of the money we have to the person who gets me to Diomede,’ Zak said.

  Travis walked up to him. ‘You heard of the Kuskokwim mountains?’ he asked.

  Zak shook his head.

  ‘They lie between here and where you want to get to. No roads. No one living there. Impassable in winter. Pop’s right. You’s best to forget it. Only way to head north-west is by plane. And weather like this, only a fool’s gonna put one of them in the air.’

  As he spoke, he glanced over at the rest of the family. Something seemed to pass between them.

  ‘You’re not telling me something,’ Zak said. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Forget it, kid,’ the old man ignored him. ‘You’re heading home. Go wake the others. My boys will put you on the right path, but I want you out of here.’

  Zak strode up to him. ‘Listen to me,’ he said. ‘If someone came out here and killed you, what would you expect your family to do?’

  The old man’s face creased up menacingly. ‘Don’t go thinking of anything stupid, kid . . .’

  ‘Just answer the question,’ Zak said.

  The father licked his dry old lips. ‘I’d expect my boys to run them down like the dogs that they are.’ He glanced over at Tasha. ‘My girl too.’

  ‘Two days ago,’ Zak said, ‘the man who was like a father to me was killed. My brother and sister – as good as – were kidnapped. I’m chasing the guy who did it. If you don’t help me, I will walk across those mountains to find them. I don’t care how high they are, or if I die doing it.’

  ‘That’s your funeral, kid,’ said the old man, turning back to the fire. But Zak could sense that something had changed; there was a note almost of respect in the man’s voice now.

  Tasha cleared her throat. ‘I’ll take them, Pop,’ she said quietly.

  The old man frowned at her. ‘Hold your tongue, Tasha.’

  ‘It’s not far,’ she said. ‘Only a day’s walk. An’ if it earns us some money—’

  ‘What’s not far?’ Zak said.

  ‘Moriarty,’ Tasha said.

  Zak caught his breath; he didn’t want to let on that he’d heard this name before. ‘Who’s Moriarty?’ he said carefully.

  Tyler stepped forward. He seemed – for now – to have forgotten about his gun. He kept a careful eye on his fuming father, but spoke before he could be interrupted. ‘He’s just some guy, lived in these parts best of ten years now. Lives out in the wilds like us. More so. Used to fly army planes, and has a plane of his own too. Heard it said, he’ll put that plane in the air when no one else will.’

  ‘But only for a price,’ the father cut in. ‘These kids ain’t going to have the money to pay for that kind of trip. And even the airplane man won’t fly in this kind of weather.’

  ‘Take me to him,’ Zak said. He was addressing Tasha and her brothers now. ‘I’ll pay you.’

  ‘How much you got?’ Tyler asked.

  Zak totted up the money he thought they had left between them. Ricky had given his to the cab driver. Zak had given his to the brothers. Only Malcolm’s money remained. ‘Three hundred bucks,’ he said weakly.

  ‘Ain’t gonna be enough, son,’ the father cut in. ‘Not to pay us and the pilot.’ His sharp face suddenly had a hungry look. ‘A thousand bucks will get you to the pilot, but no further.’

  ‘It’s all I have,’ Zak stated. But then an idea dropped, fully formed, into his brain. ‘The farmstead,’ he said. ‘Where the drug dealers are. How far did you say it was?’

  ‘Couple of miles,’ Tyler muttered.

  ‘How many people live there?’

  ‘’Bout ten.’

  ‘Tasha said they were sitting on cash they made in the city. What is it? Some kind of hideout?’

  Tyler shrugged. ‘Bad people come out here in the wintertime to lie low. They know people ain’t so likely to follow them through the snows. Gives law-abiding folk like us a bad reputation.’ His eyes widened slightly as he guessed what Zak was thinking about. ‘You don’t want to go messin’ with them types, though. They know not to come harassing us – they know we give as good as we get – but anyone approaches their territory, they got plenty of guns to shoot ’em back. We’ve been trying to think of ways of chasin’ them out of this neck of the woods, without involving them in a pitched battle.’

  ‘We don’t want their kind around here,’ the father cut in.

  Zak’s mind was suddenly working fast. ‘I know how to get rid of them,’ he said. ‘Lend me a couple of weapons, I’ll make sure they never come back.’ And when the father’s eyes narrowed aggressively, he added: ‘No bloodshed. That’s a promise. I’ll scare them away.’

  The father’s eyes narrowed. ‘How?’ he said.

  ‘By thinking like a criminal. Where I was brought up, if a place gets robbed, chances are it’ll get robbed again, because the thieves know how to break in, and that there’s stuff there worth taking. Criminals know this. So if they get robbed, they move to a different location.’

  The family were all watching him carefully now. ‘You can’t be planning on robbing them?’ the father said incredulously.

  ‘That’s exactly what I’m planning.’

  A pause. A conflicted look crossed the father’s face. Tyler walked up to him. ‘Think of the money, Pop,’ he said. ‘We need it. And taking it from folk like that ain’t doing no wrong.’

  The old man frowned. ‘One of you three stays here, so we know you ain’t just stealing our firearms,’ he said.

  Zak nodded his agreement. The way he saw it, his plan meant everyone was a winner. Tasha’s family wanted these drug dealers gone. But they would also certainly have cash with them. Zak wouldn’t feel at all guilty about taking it from them. His need was greater. They just needed someone subtle enough and skilful enough to get on site and steal it.

  Snow, who was looking towards the shack, inclined his head. It was an oddly friendly gesture. Zak glanced back to see what the dog was looking at. Ricky and Malcolm had woken, and they were standing outside the door. They both looked a lot better for a night’s sleep. Zak focused on Ricky – Snow’s new friend and the street kid who, if Zak had heard properly, could pick the pocket of the Artful Dodger himself . . .

  19

  THE PLAN

  It seemed to Ricky that Zak’s personality was changing hour by hour. The more desperate his situation grew – and the closer they got to the deadline – the more determined he became. His eyes were like flint. It was sort of impressive. And sort of scary. Ricky couldn’t stop wondering exactly what he intended to do when – if – they finally caught up with Cruz Martinez.

  ‘This is the plan.’ Zak, Ricky and Malcolm were back in the shack. Zak spoke urgently, and in a low whisper. ‘Malcolm, you have to stay here.’ He caught Ricky’s eye, and Ricky wonder
ed if he was thinking the same thing as him – that with no laptop and no internet, Malcolm’s skills were no good to them. ‘If we leave you with them,’ Zak continued smoothly, ‘they’ll lend us some weapons.’

  ‘Weapons?’ Ricky breathed. ‘What for? Mate, you’re not thinking of—’

  ‘I’ve already told you once,’ Zak said. ‘I don’t kill people. The weapons are just a diversion.’

  ‘And they definitely said this guy was called Moriarty?’

  ‘Definitely.’

  ‘Mate, it’s pretty thin.’

  ‘If you’ve got a better idea, now’s the time to say.’

  Ricky sighed and shook his head. There was no point arguing with Zak. ‘No better ideas,’ he said.

  He listened carefully as Zak explained his plan.

  – He’s crazy. It’s too dangerous. Ripping off a bunch of drug dealers in the middle of the Alaskan snows isn’t the same as picking a pocket in a London side street.

  – Like the guy said, have you got any better ideas?

  The voice in Ricky’s head fell silent. ‘When do we do it?’ he asked. His voice was shaking slightly.

  ‘Tonight. After dark, when nobody can see us approaching.’ He sniffed. ‘We’ve got thirty-nine hours until Cruz’s deadline runs out. That doesn’t give us any time to waste.’

  They spent the day in the wild family’s shack. They were under the watchful eye of one of the brothers at all times. Travis didn’t let go of his weapon. Tyler insisted on patting them down again and emptying out their packs in his search for his lost gun. He found nothing, of course, and had to concede that he must have misplaced it in the confusion of the night before.

  But Ricky sensed that the attitude of this strange family had changed. They seemed a bit more respectful. It was as if they were grudgingly impressed by what they intended to do. That didn’t make Ricky feel much better – it meant they thought it was very dangerous. And they were dead right. It crossed his mind that maybe Malcolm had the best role in Zak’s impromptu plan . . .

  Around midday, the mother handed round small bowls of stew. The meat was tough and strong-tasting. Ricky didn’t know what it was, and he didn’t ask. Snow gnawed on a bone in the corner of the shack.