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The Collectors Book Five (The Collectors Series 5)

Page 19

by Sewell, Ron


  Scorn filled her voice. “He needs a hospital, preferably mental.”

  “Be reasonable. Soak it in antiseptic and bandage it.”

  Donald dragged Maria by the arm to the kitchen as blood poured from his wounds.

  Roland, gun in hand, followed. “Nice place. Your husband must be worth a bit.”

  She washed and poured TCP into the torn flesh and grinned. “Not such a big man now, are you?” The bandage she wrapped as tight as she could. “Keep it raised.”

  Roland pointed. “You will sit in the chair by the window and make your call.” He wandered to the lounge window and sat on the built-in seat overlooking the Thames.

  Numb, she made the call, cutting her mother-in-law off.

  “What do you want?”

  “Your husband to do as he’s told.”

  “That’ll be the day.”

  “For you he’ll do anything.”

  “You don’t know him. When he returns, he’ll fry your balls and eat them for breakfast.”

  He struck out with a clenched fist, hit the side of her face, grabbed her hair, and pulled her head back. “One word from me and Don will fuck you, and when he’s done you’ll wish you were dead. Is that what you want?”

  Her mind raced. Could she deal with these morons? She stared at him and her eyes blazed. Her right hand grabbed his balls, squeezed and twisted.

  Roland screamed and smashed her between the eyes.

  Out cold, she crumpled to the floor.

  “Let me do her,” said Donald.

  “Later. Remove her clothes and tie the bitch up.”

  Semi-conscious she lay on her side and curled into a ball.

  ***

  Alfredo shouted from the bridge. “Petros, someone is asking for you on the radio.”

  Petros charged up the steel ladder to the bridge.

  “Channel 7.”

  “Petros Kyriades.”

  “Mr Kyriades, you do not know me but you have something I want very badly. When my transmitter stopped sending a signal and my men failed to return I assumed the worst.”

  “We rescued one but he’s bleeding to death as we speak.”

  “Toss him overboard, he is of little importance.”

  “What do you want?”

  “What you found on the wreck.”

  “Get lost.”

  “May I suggest you contact your wife. My partner holds her as insurance. If you cross him, I guarantee her health will deteriorate. The choice of your wife living or you attending her funeral is yours.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I give you until the sun shines over the horizon to see sense. After that your little girl will have lost her mother. Your decision, Mr Kyriades.” The transmission ended.

  “Give him the gold,” said Alfredo.

  “Not yet. I have one possibility, but first I’ll phone home as they expect.” He returned to his cabin, found his sat-phone, went on deck, and pressed memory key one.

  “Maria Kyriades.”

  “Are you all right?” He listened to a scuffle and muted scream.

  “Pleased you contacted your wife, My Kyriades. She is quite beautiful.”

  “You touch her. I’ll string you up on a butcher’s hook and hang you from a tree as bird food.”

  “Don’t threaten me. I have the advantage and don’t give a shit. The legal system in this country is so fucked up I won’t even be charged. What you need to worry about is my associate. She kneed him in the bollocks and your dog took half his arm off. Unlike me, he’s a bit of an animal and will fuck her in many ways before he kills her. I don’t believe you’ll let that happen. If the transfer of the gold goes ahead tomorrow, I’ll let her live.”

  “Touch her and I’ll swing but as sure as eggs is eggs you’ll die the most gruesome of deaths,” shouted Petros.

  “I’ve lost count the number of times someone has said that to me. Everyone of them ended up in the mortuary or pig food.”

  “There’s a difference. I’ll send you, your mother, father, sisters, and brothers to hell. If you don’t believe me, touch my wife.”

  The line went dead.

  With little hesitation, Petros pressed memory button two.

  “Yes.”

  “Bear, I have a problem.”

  “What’s new?”

  “For once I’m deadly serious. Some arsehole has Maria hostage and if I don’t hand over the gold she’ll be murdered. I must make my decision by sunrise tomorrow.”

  “You know he’ll kill her.”

  “Of course. The best witness is a dead one.”

  “I’ve no idea what I can do but don’t worry. I’ll ring you when Maria’s cooking my breakfast.”

  “Thanks. I really don’t know...”

  “Get off the line, you’re wasting my time.” Bear terminated the call.

  Petros turned, everyone stood there.

  “We are agreed. Give him the gold,” said Alfredo.

  “We die if we do. There’s no way the Cosa Nostra will let us live. No witnesses make life simple. No, tomorrow morning we take that bastard down.”

  “And your wife?”

  “Plan B is in motion. In as much as I want to I can do no more. Is our friend still alive?”

  “Just about,” said Tommaso.

  “Good. I’m going to throw him overboard.”

  “What will that do?” asked Marco.

  “With luck attract a shark or two. We need to know how many men are on the Cosa Nostras’ vessel.”

  Amadou and ZZ let the man drop to the deck.

  He opened his eyes and gasped, “Kill me.”

  Petros placed his feet either side of the man’s torso. “You are finished. My idea is to drag you astern and watch the sharks have dinner. With luck you’ll live a few more hours but in agony unless you tell me how many men are on the other vessel.”

  “Mother of Mary, take me now.”

  “Alfredo, two knots please. Amadou, ZZ, take this creature to the stern and toss him over.”

  The man screamed as they dragged him and suspended him from the rail.

  “Tell him what he wants to know and I will treat your wounds,” said Alfredo.

  The man attempted to lift his head as he whispered, “I cannot.”

  Alfredo cut the line and let him fall into the water.

  “Good move,” said Petros. “How much plastic have we on board?”

  “Sufficient to blow us to heaven and back to hell,” said Davide.

  “Time to make a few fireworks.”

  “Your wife?” said Alfredo. “You must be worried.”

  “Whatever happens to my wife, tomorrow I’ll have my revenge in part. Later I’ll claim payment in full. If my friend can do it, my wife will be safe.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “I’m not but what can I do?

  Davide and Petros placed the plastic explosive, plus a selection of nuts and bolts of various sizes into old paint tins.

  “Petros, this is crazy.”

  “It could even work.”

  Davide nodded his approval as he taped a timed fuse to each tin.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Bear parked his car in the station car park and strolled to the entrance of Petros’ Pangbourne home. Shielded by a giant holly bush, he waited in the shadows and out of sight of the road.

  Ten minutes later a black van stopped at the river’s edge. Its driver turned off the engine and lights.

  Although a big man, Bear moved like a ghost and tapped on the van window before the driver sensed him being there.

  The driver wound it down. “What’s the score, Night-Fighter?”

  “Don’t know. I waited for you to arrive before I moved in. Are you sure you want to help? It could cost you your jobs.”

  “We’re here, aren’t we?” said James.

  Three men dressed from head to toe in black jumped out.

  “God, I miss the old days,” said Zack.

  “Everything’s PC a
nd bound by the rules,” said Brian.

  “Night scopes?”

  “Two,” said Brian, “and we have a phazzer each.”

  “Won’t you get into trouble borrowing those?”

  “No chance, bought them off a friend in Portobello market. Most of the street girls have them these days.”

  “That would make the earth move,” said Bear. “Right, two teams. James, you’re with me. A recon first then meet back here.”

  “What’s in the bag?” asked Zack.

  “Crossbows, silent and effective.”

  “Are we going to take these bastards out?” said Brian.

  “You’re not but I might,” said Bear. “Can’t have Special Branch hurting the bad guys, can we? Whatever next?”

  Alert, the two groups split, Bear and James to the front and nearside, Brian and Zack, rear and far side.

  Both teams listened to their own footfalls and watched the house for any sign of movement.

  “What’s that noise,” whispered James.

  As they circled the garage to gain the best view of the house, Bear raised his hand. “I hear something.” He edged forward searching with his night-sight. In a soft voice, “Charlie.” The animal nuzzled Bear’s hand.

  “Stay,” said Bear, his senses sharpened by experience. “What’s this?” He smelt his hand. “The dog’s hurt, which tells me one of them has a nasty bite. “Good boy.”

  The view from the tree line and across the lawn gave them a perfect view of the house.

  “Shit, they’ve drawn the curtains,” said James.

  “Which means they’re in the lounge or kitchen,” said Bear. “Back to the gate. Charlie.”

  Two men and a dog returned to the entrance and waited for the others to return. They emerged out of the gloom.

  “Nothing,” said Zack. “Where did the dog come from?”

  “He belongs to the daughter. Right, we go in through an upstairs window. There’s a ladder in the garage.” Bear jangled a set of keys.

  “There was a time when we abseiled, swung on ropes and smashed through windows,” said Brian.

  “Iranian Embassy, fifth of May 1980, and we were a lot younger,” said Zack.

  “The ladder,” said Bear.

  Zack and James carried the wooden ladder to the rear of the house. Bear, with the two crossbows slung across his back, climbed quickly and silently and waited on the balcony for the others. He pointed and whispered, “This is the guest bedroom, it opens out onto a long uncarpeted landing and stairs to the right.” With his stiletto, he slipped a window catch and slid over the sill.

  “Have you been practising?” whispered Zack.

  “Not lately.”

  From the shadows, the others followed.

  He crossed the carpeted floor and cracked open the door. The hallway was in darkness. He slipped the crossbows from his shoulder, loaded, and handed one to Zack. The other he kept. “You have one shot, make it count.”

  James and Brian readied their phazzers.

  The four men sidled along the passage to the top of the stairs, stopped and listened.

  Someone walked across the ground floor, their footsteps distinct.

  “Don, take a look in the fridge and make me something to eat.”

  “Yes, Boss.”

  “How pathetic. You serve him as if he’s your lord and master.”

  “Bitch.” An open-handed slap across bare skin came next.

  “Leave her.”

  “I’ll look forward to having you every way possible before I break your neck”

  “I bet you can’t even get it up,” shouted Maria.

  Bear turned to Zack and nodded.

  They descended the stairs two on each side and paused at the bottom. With Bear leading, they strolled into the lounge.

  “And what do we have here? Breathe heavy and I’ll fire,” said Bear.

  Donald lunged at Maria.

  Bear fired, the bolt entered Donald’s thigh.

  Roland raised his hands. “Don’t shoot.” Diverting attention.

  Donald shifted his right arm to his back and received another bolt in his shoulder.

  Roland seized the moment to grab his pistol. Confusion filled his face as two phazzer darts struck him in the chest. He convulsed and collapsed unconscious to the floor.

  Maria lifted her clothes, forced a cheerful smile and ran to Bear, hugged and kissed him.

  “You okay?”

  “Bit shaky but now you’re here I’m fine. I must look a sight.”

  “You look good to me but before you go up west, I’d cover those bruises with makeup.”

  “Thankfully, Alysa is at Zena’s. I’d better get some clothes on.”

  “What do we do with these two?” asked James.

  “I have an idea. Leave me a dozen of those black cable ties.”

  Maria stood in her shower, leant against the white tiled wall, cried and shook. She turned up the pressure and the jets pummelled and stung her skin. The force of the water drove out her fear. Fifteen minutes later, she descended the stairs, dressed in blue jeans and a T-shirt. “Coffee. Who wants one?”

  “Best thing I’ve heard since we arrived,” said Zack.

  “Maria, are you sure you’re alright?” asked Bear.

  She ran her hands through her damp hair and gave a half-hearted smile. “Five cups it is.”

  Bear secured both men and retrieved the two blood-covered bolts. From his pack, he removed two wound dressings and tied them in place. Brutally he dragged the unconscious man off the floor and onto the settee as Charlie bounded into the house.

  He barked at Bear and growled at Donald.

  “You can bite him later,” said Bear. “Let me look at your head.” He examined Charlie’s head. “Superficial, a lot of mess but no permanent damage.”

  The clatter of mugs on the kitchen table signalled the coffee was ready. Three men still wearing their black balaclavas grabbed a cup each.

  “The oaf will need a hospital,” said James.

  “Later,” said Bear. “Do you know who the other man is?”

  “Roland Wallace. The Met have been trying to pin something on him for years but he keeps his hands clean.”

  “Did,” said Bear. He wandered over and removed one set of car keys from Donald’s pocket. “Can someone give me a hand?” He bent and lifted the nine millimetre pistol and pushed it in his pocket.

  Zack strolled over and between them they dragged a screaming Donald and dumped him into the boot of the Jaguar.

  “Time you and the others left.”

  James glanced at his watch. “Thanks for a great night out. Must do it again sometime.”

  Bear shook their hands. “Cheers.”

  “Anytime, my friend,” said Brian. “We owe you our lives from Iraq.”

  “In fairness I’m getting too old for this. Consider the debt paid.”

  Bear checked the road, nodded to the three men, who at speed ran to the van, started the engine, and drove away. He waited a few minutes before returning to the boot of the Jaguar.

  The horror of what was happening swept across Donald’s face. “And you can go fuck yourself.”

  “Interesting turn of phrase but it’s you who’s fucked. Scum like you deserve nothing and I know what Maria would have suffered before you killed her.” He pressed the pistol into Donald’s forehead. “The boot’s on the other foot now and I hate men who hit women.”

  Grimacing, Donald stared into Bear’s eyes. “What are you going to do, big man? Shoot me? This is Britain and I deserve a fair trial.”

  “Don’t get lippy with me, arsehole. My rules are simple, I throw the ball, and you catch.” A wicked smile crossed his face before he taped Donald’s mouth shut. Next he positioned the pistol on Donald’s right knee and pulled the trigger. “Left next.” He repeated the process. “Try walking without knees.” He ripped the dressings away from the bolt wounds, allowing blood to flow. “If you could crawl to a hospital you might live.” The boot slammed shut.
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  As Bear entered the house, Maria asked, “Did I hear two shots?”

  Bear laughed. “Sorry about that but I needed to scare the shit out of your boyfriend.”

  “The other one’s coming round.” With gusto, she booted Roland in the stomach three times.

  “The rough stuff’s my job but with a boot like that West Ham need you for their next game.” Bear sat on the settee and prodded. “Time to go, arsehole.”

  He stared at Bear in pain and shock. “Do you know who I am?”

  “No and I don’t give a shit. The best part is you don’t know who I am. You fucked up. You should have stayed on your own manor. This one’s private, invited guests only.”

  Ashen-faced, Roland groaned as he tried to sit. “Who are you? How much do you want?”

  Bear smiled. “A couple of million would boost my pension fund.”

  “I pay my dues to the police. I’ll give you fifty thou if you let me walk.”

  Bear raised the pistol. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t blow your brains out?”

  “One-hundred thou.”

  Bear lied with a smile. “No thanks, my boss pays better.”

  Terror filled Roland’s face as he stammered, “You can’t be the police, so who the hell are you? I can use men like you. Why not work for me?”

  “I’d rather shovel shit than work for an arsehole.” He dragged him by the collar, out of the house and tossed him into the back seat of his Jaguar. “Time for sleep.” He removed a plastic container from his pocket, flipped the lid allowing a full hypodermic to drop into his hand. With no hesitation, he shoved it into Roland’s arm and injected the colourless liquid.

  Roland held up his tied hands defensively, his eyes wide with fear. “You can’t do this.”

  “Nonsense. Just did.”

  He entered the house. “Maria, will you be okay?”

  “I’ve a bit of mess to clean up and then I’ll drive over to Zena’s and stay the night.”

  “I’ll give you a hand. Your face will have a few nice bruises. How you going to explain them away?” He removed the pistol from his pocket and wiped it clean with kitchen tissue.

  “I fell down the stairs.”

  “I’d believe you. I’m going to tell PK you’re at his mum’s. Unless you want a word.”

  She smiled. “Tell him I’m on my way. I’d rather not talk until I’m ready. He’ll only ask awkward questions.”

 

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