‘I brought these,’ he added, ignoring Hart who was now leaning on his desk with his head in his hands. He turned to Steve and handed over a rolled up tube of paper. ‘It’ll give you an idea of what to expect.’
Steve took the tube from Emrah and unravelled it across Hart’s desk.
‘Blueprints,’ murmured Finn. ‘Now that is useful.’
The men pored over the detailed plans of the garage.
‘How did you get these?’ asked Finn. ‘We’ve been trying to get hold of someone at the planning department for the past couple of hours.’
Emrah shrugged. ‘My brother-in-law’s cousin works on the city planning committee,’ he said. ‘I owe him dinner at my house next week.’
He took a sports bag from one of his men outside the door and handed it to Steve. ‘We have put together some equipment for you – it is the same as what my men are using.’
Finn walked over, and began pulling out the contents of the bag, testing each piece of kit and familiarising himself with the communications set-up the team would be using.
With half an hour to go until he and Steve planned to leave the office and make their way to the garage where they suspected Kate was being held, he slipped from the room and made his way out to a balcony which overlooked the street.
He leaned on the wrought-ironwork and watched the people and cars moving below, his mind wandering.
He let his head fall between his arms. It had been three years since he’d had to conduct a rescue.
And, like the last mission, he’d be rescuing someone he cared desperately about.
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to steady his heartbeat and the sickness in his core. In his mind, he wanted to see Kate as he remembered her the last night of the hostage training.
She’d worn a dress, green silk – totally inappropriate for the setting, but she’d worn it anyway. It had added a touch of glamour to the last night, when everyone could relax without having to worry about being spirited away by the training team.
She’d appeared nervous when she’d walked into the room. When everyone had turned to stare, she’d looked as if she was having second thoughts about her choice of clothing.
Finn had seen the way she’d given herself a mental shake as he’d walked across the floor with a glass of wine.
She’d blushed when he’d leaned down to kiss her cheek.
‘You look beautiful,’ he’d murmured.
Her hand shook when she took the wine, but she’d smiled and clinked glasses with him.
He’d cursed when Hart had interrupted them, calling everyone to dinner, denying him the chance to apologise for his behaviour during the training. He had then found out that he wouldn’t be sitting next to her.
He remembered how the colour of the dress had enhanced the gold flecks in her brown eyes, and how her tanned shoulders caught the light of the candles which Cynthia had insisted on lighting in the middle of the table.
And that kiss on the terrace.
He recalled her pulling away from him, their breathing heavy as she’d gazed up at him, and for a split second, he’d been ready to tell her everything. All his secrets, his terrible history, and why she should go back home.
A noise from the room to their right had interrupted them, and she’d moved away from him, a guilty look across her face.
Cynthia had appeared, asking if everything was okay, and Kate had nodded, turning away from Finn and following the older woman back inside the hotel.
Cynthia. All this because of one woman’s misplaced jealousy.
And Hart, a man who designed prototype weapons to improve ways to kill people.
Finn shook his head and vowed that if he found Kate alive and well, he’d spirit her away and never let her out of his sight again. He wouldn’t fail – not this time.
He raised his head and turned at the sound of the balcony door sliding open.
Steve stood, silhouetted in the doorframe. ‘I thought you might be out here.’
Finn grunted a response, and then turned back to the street. He heard the door close, and Steve joined him at the rail, before peering over the edge.
‘Not thinking of jumping, were you?’
‘Job’s not done yet.’
‘Just checking.’
‘How are we doing for time?’
‘We leave in fifteen.’
‘Emrah?’
‘He’ll set up a cordon once we’re in – given that it’s an industrial area, it won’t take them long. The place should be deserted this time of night.’
‘And he won’t send his men in early?’
Steve shook his head. ‘It’s all ours.’
Finn nodded. ‘Good.’
Steve turned and leaned against the balcony and folded his arms across his chest. ‘Listen, I’ve been thinking.’
Finn cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.
‘Once we’re done here and back in Northumbria, I think you should consider taking over the management of the business from me.’
Finn frowned. ‘What?’
The other man shrugged, then looked over his shoulder and watched the passing traffic below. ‘Well, I’m not getting any younger. Maybe it’s time I handed over the reins.’
Finn straightened slowly and held onto the railing, his knuckles white. ‘Why would you think that?’
‘No particular reason. Just thought it might be time to take a back seat, let you run with it. Got a problem with that?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s your business. You built it up from scratch after leaving the SAS. It’s doing well. You’ve got good clients,’ he glanced back through the doors, ‘most of the time. Why would you want to walk away?’
‘Who said anything about walking away? I’ll still work every day.’
Finn shook his head and held up his hands. ‘I can’t deal with this right now.’
Steve shrugged. ‘Okay. But do me a favour? Have a think about it when this is over, and let’s have a chat when we get home, alright?’
Finn nodded.
‘Good. Now let’s go rescue your girlfriend.’
22
Finn led the way, both men running fast between the buildings which lined the street. Reaching the last structure, they stopped, each taking a deep lungful of air, readying themselves for whatever the next few minutes threw at them.
Steve tilted his head upwards, noticed an open window and put his finger to his lips, nudging Finn, who nodded. The men slunk back into the shadows and used hand gestures to finalise their plan.
Once they were ready, they wasted no more time. Crouching low to the ground to minimise his silhouette, Finn dashed across the entrance to the street that led to the run-down garage business where Kate was held prisoner.
He reached the side of the building opposite, turned and nodded to Steve. The other man began to edge carefully down the street, hugging the buildings and moving slowly. Once he was in place, Finn turned to the garage that was the subject of their planned assault.
He had been surprised that Emrah hadn’t joined them in the take-down, preferring instead to observe the action from the comms vehicle parked two streets away.
Emrah had shrugged when asked. ‘I am an intelligence officer, Mr Scott.’ He waved a hand dismissively. ‘I do not get involved in the actual operation. I pay good men to do that.’
As they had left the comms area, hurrying towards their target, Emrah’s second-in-command, a man in his thirties by the name of Ali, had murmured under his breath. ‘What he didn’t tell you is that he’s a lousy shot. Almost failed his annual test two months ago.’
Finn had laughed, grateful to the man for trying to ease the tension they had all felt as they prepared for the assault.
His mind coursed through the last moments of the previous operation and sweat broke out across his brow, streaking down his cheek. He shook his head and looked across to where Steve stood.
The other man tilted
his head, and then held a palm upwards.
Okay?
Finn nodded, then slid his hand into his black canvas backpack, extracted a wire and detonation charge, and slowly let the backpack drop to the ground behind his legs.
He tightened his grip on the explosives and had begun to move, when two small stones scuffed across the street and hit his boot. He looked back to where Steve was standing and saw the man slowly shaking his head before pointing upwards to the roof above Finn.
He froze.
The men had suspected that the kidnappers would post lookouts to keep an eye on the street, and it was Steve’s role to keep watch for them until they were ready to move in.
Finn kept his head low. If the man on the roof above looked down to the street, Finn didn’t want him to spot him straight away. Instead, he relied on Steve to tell him when the way was clear. He held his breath, resisting the urge to look up.
He wondered where the Turkish intelligence officer had positioned his men. They were good – he hadn’t spotted anyone on the approach to the building, and even now, they blended with the shadows on the street.
Steve gave him a thumbs-up, and he began to fasten the explosives to the front door. Winding back the wire, he moved backwards until he was clear of the blast zone.
He glanced over his shoulder as Steve jogged across the street to join him.
‘On three?’
Finn nodded, counted, and then pressed the button.
The door exploded outwards in a shower of splinters and metal. The men turned away, letting the wooden shrapnel fall around them.
When it had stopped, Finn gritted his teeth, raised his gun and tore through the gaping hole in the wall.
Smoke filled the entranceway, and he fell into a crouch position, Steve covering him from behind, using the outer wall as protection. The sound of running feet echoed along the street as Emrah’s men sprinted to join them.
A figure lurched from the shadows of the building, a smoky silhouette lumbering towards them, rifle raised.
Finn fired twice, the suppressor reducing the noise to a low cough, and the man dropped to the floor. Finn didn’t check to see if he was still alive – they had to move through the building swiftly. Bending down, he collected the man’s rifle, swung it over his shoulder and kept going.
He tapped the communicator attached to his collar which Emrah had insisted they wear, and then cursed as a stream of static filled his ears.
‘Comms are down,’ he hissed.
Steve tested his set-up. ‘Same – must be some sort of jamming system in the building.’ He checked over his shoulder at the Turkish military man behind him, who nodded once. ‘Okay, we keep going.’
Finn raised his gun in a two-handed grip and sighted it along the passageway. His mind replayed the building blueprints they’d pored over in the office mere hours before. To his right, a staircase led towards the upper two levels. In front of him, a swing set of double doors stood closed, the workshop and mechanics’ office beyond.
He held his hand up, using well-rehearsed signals to Emrah’s men, who hurried towards the double doors and formed an attack formation.
Finn checked over his shoulder, caught Steve’s gaze, and then began to ease himself up the staircase, tread by tread.
He cursed under his breath. In the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team, he’d had state of the art equipment which fed a constant stream of information into his ears from the operation control room. He’d been aided by satellite imagery, infra-red and heat sensor detectors, and a breathing apparatus.
Here, he had a gun he’d never fired, a black cotton mask to cover his face, and a comms system which was currently taking early retirement. He breathed out, willed his heart rate to slow, and concentrated on making his way up the first flight of stairs.
Reaching the landing, Finn dropped to a crouch while Steve covered their rear, each man waiting for the team below to begin their assault, in the hope that it would mask their own movements for a few precious seconds.
The sound of the doors being kicked open downstairs preceded a shouted order and Emrah’s men began firing into the garage space below.
Finn and Steve took their cue and began hurrying along the first floor corridor, their guns sweeping left and right into open doorways as they checked one room after another.
Finn’s gun automatically jerked upwards at the sound of a shout from further along the corridor, a man emerging from the last room, a rifle pointed straight at them.
Without hesitation, Finn dropped to his knees, firing again. A short sharp blast of sound above his head confirmed Steve had swung round and fired as well.
The man dropped dead to the floor, his weapon sliding across the bare concrete surface.
Finn waited until Steve tapped him on the shoulder, then stood and hurried to where the man lay prone, his eyes closed, blood seeping from two exit wounds.
After checking the last room, the two men hurried to the staircase and began climbing once more.
Finn cursed the comms equipment. Right now, he should have been relaying information back to the rest of the team. Instead, they were running blind, each man responsible for his own safety if the operation turned sour. If things got out of hand, Emrah’s men were only seconds away, armed and ready, but with the communication system down, any request for help would have to be in person.
He jerked his head upwards at the sound of the door to the roof slamming shut, and then slowed as they crept up the last flight of stairs, and fell into a crouching position. He turned and signalled to Steve.
A guard stood outside one of the doors, his gun aimed at the stairs, eyes wide and staring. Finn could smell the fear coming off the man and suspected this was the first time the man had been in a combat situation.
He lowered his aim and fired.
The man screamed, then fell to the floor clutching his leg.
‘Cover me,’ Finn called over his shoulder, pulling a plastic tie from one of the pockets on his jacket. He leaned over the wounded man, grabbed his wrist and quickly secured his wrists to his ankles, and pushed him over.
‘That should hold him.’
They both looked up at the sound of running feet coming up the stairs, and stood, guns poised and ready.
The footsteps slowed and Finn spotted hands raised in the air. ‘It’s me, Ali.’
‘Clear.’
The man jogged up the remaining steps, followed by two of his men.
‘Situation?’
‘One dead downstairs, and this one,’ murmured Finn. ‘Downstairs?’
‘Three dead. No sign of the American woman – or the bomb.’
‘What about Kaan?’
‘Negative.’
‘Are your comms working?’
‘No.’
‘Shit.’
Finn turned back to the closed door, then at Steve.
‘I suppose we’ll have to go in then?’
The other man nodded. ‘Do it.’
They positioned themselves either side of the door.
‘On three?’
‘Three.’
Finn fired at the lock, then kicked the door open, the wood splintering in its frame. He dropped to a crouch, his eyes adjusting to the gloom, heart racing, anticipating the shot that would kill him.
Nothing.
He blinked as Steve flicked on the light switch, and then swore.
23
Finn tore the mask off his face and threw it to the floor, swearing.
‘Dammit, she’s not here!’
‘We need to find out if there are any clues,’ said Steve, placing his hand on Finn’s shoulder. ‘And quickly.’
Finn closed his eyes, and then shook his head to clear the thoughts which threatened to unhinge him. ‘Okay.’
He flicked the safety catch on his gun, tucked it into the webbing on his jacket and began to pace the room with Steve, their footsteps tracing a grid pattern as their eyes scanned the floor.
He ignored the sounds of Emrah’
s men filing down the staircase, their voices rising through the building as they laughed and joked with each other, the relief of surviving the assault evident.
Tearing the useless comms equipment from around his neck, he pocketed it and began to search the room. Lowering his gaze, he frowned as his eyes swept left and right.
Once he was sure the floor was clear, he strode over to the low bed which had been pushed against one wall. Practised fingers began searching the folds of the thin blankets, looking for something, anything which might tell him Kate was okay, that she was still alive.
He threw the blanket to one side, and ran his hands over the surface of the mattress, before lifting the stained pillow and tossing it over his shoulder to Steve.
As Steve took a knife to the pillow and began emptying its contents onto the floor, Finn ran a blade down the length of the mattress and pushed his fingers inside, probing the material.
Frustrated, he stood and kicked the mattress out of the way.
‘She was never here, Steve.’ He heard the other man sigh and turned to face him. ‘She was never here.’
His breath caught in his throat.
On the floor, underneath where the mattress had lain, a gold-plated watch had been secreted.
He bent down, picked up the watch and cradled it in his palm.
‘Steve,’ he called, his voice shaking. ‘Look.’
The man next to him exhaled. ‘Is it hers?’
‘I think so. Yes. She wore this to the training session. I made her put it into her locker before we did the assault course.’
Steve appraised the room. ‘I don’t think she was kept here, though. This place has been used as a barracks for Kaan’s men.’
They both jumped at the sound of a gunshot from the corridor and rushed back, weapons ready.
Ali stood over the body of the bound terrorist, saw them staring at him, and then shrugged.
‘He tried to reach his gun.’
Finn’s eye’s flickered to where the dead man lay on the floor, his hands still tied, gun out of reach, and then back to the armed policeman.
Two FBI thrillers: Before Nightfall and Mistake Creek Page 14