by Ian Andrew
Uzy settled himself and focussed on the target approaching. Then he saw a brief flash of yellow in the reflections to his left. His mind processed the word Taser just as it discharged into his back. His world became a blur of noise and lights and then dark.
He was just regaining a semblance of consciousness when his mouth was taped with duct tape, as were his hands and feet. He was lifted into the boot of the BMW-3 Series and it all went dark.
*
Carrie’s real name was Emilia. She was a graduate of Russia’s Ryazan Higher Airborne Command School and drove her 350Z like every road was a racetrack. As usual she was at the exit of the driveway before either of her two colleagues had even started their cars. She turned right and accelerated hard. As she rounded the second left-hander she came off the accelerator and onto the brakes.
Ahead, just in front of the left hand turning to the Avey Garden and Nursery Centre, was a silver Subaru Impreza saloon slewed completely across the road with its passenger side facing Emilia. The car’s driver’s side had been seemingly T-boned by a red car, the make and model of which she couldn’t determine as it was mostly masked by the bigger Subaru. Thick black smoke was rising from the red car’s engine. A woman was at the passenger door of the Subaru trying to wrench it open. Emilia checked her rear-view and side mirrors but the rest of Avey Lane was normal and empty.
As her Nissan decelerated rapidly she reached inside her jacket and undid the loop catch that held her pistol firmly in its holster. She stopped about twenty yards away from the destruction and scanned left to right.
The Impreza’s passenger windows were gone and cubes of hardened glass littered the road where the woman, medium height, dark auburn hair, dressed in jeans and a jumper was still struggling with the door.
Emilia looked beyond her to what she could see of the red car. Its driver’s door was wide open but the car seemed empty. She assessed the woman was the driver of the red car and had pulled out of the nursery turn without checking. Avey Lane was very quiet so it would probably have worked ninety-nine times out of a hundred but this morning her luck had given out. Emilia watched as the woman finally managed to wrench the passenger door of the Subaru open. The smoke was thickening and the driver of the Subaru, a large black man, wasn’t moving to get away from the blaze about to engulf both cars. Emilia reached into her pocket for her mobile phone but as she moved she saw in her rear-view mirror a light blue Ford Mondeo approaching.
She pocketed her phone and got out. Her large colleague Anatoly had come to a stop behind her. He would have her back if this wasn’t what it looked like. If it was a straightforward accident then they needed to get the driver out of the Subaru now. She could call the emergency services later. Either way she was comfortable with the situation. She waved for Anatoly to come and help, then she went to assist the auburn haired woman.
As Anatoly stepped out of his car and made to come to Emilia’s assistance a white transit van came around the bend behind him.
Anatoly was big and sometimes slowed by his size but he carried no excess fat nor was he a slack operator. He had served in the 76th Guards Air Assault Division, was a three-tour veteran of the Chechen insurgency and had fought in Georgia in 2008 before leaving the Russian Army and joining Illy’s security detail. He turned quickly at the sound of the van and appraised the likelihood he was being ambushed. His adrenaline spiked and he used the rush to focus on details. There were two men visible through the windscreen. He thought they looked similar enough to perhaps be brothers. Both were stocky, both wore high-visibility work shirts. The passenger had a cardboard coffee container still to his lips and both he and the driver looked shocked at the carnage in front of them. Anatoly dismissed them and turned back towards the Subaru.
Emilia and the other woman had the Impreza’s driver by an arm each and were trying to twist and pull him out of his seat across to the passenger side with little success.
Anatoly came up behind her and spoke in Russian, telling her to step away. She did as requested and took the other woman with her.
“Come, leave it alone, my friend will do it,” she said in her heavily accented English and put her arm around the woman’s shoulders, guiding her back from the cars. The woman seemed incapable of saying anything other than, ‘Oh my God! Oh I’m sorry! I didn’t see him!’ over and over. As Emilia forcibly turned her away from the thick smoke and moved out of Anatoly’s way she got a strange sensation that something wasn’t right.
Two men in high-visibility shirts, jeans and work boots ran past her. She looked up and saw their van parked behind Anatoly’s car. When she was level with her own Nissan, Emilia turned back towards the crash and looked again at the scene. The auburn haired woman had walked a few feet further on. Emilia could hear her sobbing.
Anatoly and the two men who flanked him were struggling to get the driver out of the enclosed space. Emilia stared hard at the cars and suddenly realised what was wrong. The passenger windows in the Subaru had been smashed but the windscreens of both cars were intact and the airbag of the Impreza hadn’t been deployed. Reaching inside her jacket for her pistol she yelled out, “Anatoly, it’s an ambu-”. She was cut off by the twin probes of the X2 Defender Taser discharging 50,000 volts into her back.
Anatoly straightened up at the shout of his name. As he began to turn, the men either side of him placed direct contact Tasers on his neck. The pain, bad from a single contact let alone a double hit, was debilitating even for a man of his size. He sunk onto his knees next to the Impreza. The driver, who had been seemingly unconscious, suddenly sat upright, produced a Taser from the central console and discharged it into Anatoly’s chest. The big man slumped sideways and swore in his native Russian as the darkness enveloped him.
Jacob Harrop waked round to the completely undamaged driver’s side of the Impreza and got into the equally undamaged red Audi A4. As he reversed it back up the approach road to the garden nursery his brother extinguished the small can of burning oil that had been positioned under its engine compartment. The last wisp of trailing black smoke rose and was blown away in the morning breeze. Jacob took two brushes from the boot of the Audi and he and his brother swept the carpet of glass fragments into the verge. Once clear they gave the thumbs-up to Eugene who sat patiently behind the Impreza’s wheel.
He reversed, straightened up and pulled forward to alongside Kara. He pushed the boot release catch and stepped out to help his brother.
Dan, who had climbed out from the rear of the transit van, had helped Kara gag and bind the Russian woman with duct tape. Once they had retrieved the keyless remote for the woman’s Nisan and taken the Glock-17 from her shoulder holster, the brothers lifted the still unconscious body into the boot. Eugene handed Kara the Subaru’s keys.
“See you there,” she said and executed a reverse turn in the nursery side road before accelerating away.
Eugene got into the Transit van and moved it as close to the unconscious body of the large Russian as he could. It took Toby, Jacob, Dan and he all their strength to gag, bind and manhandle the deadweight of the guard they now knew was called Anatoly. With a struggle they finally got him into the rear of the transit and secured him with a set of cargo chains that had been bolted to the floor.
Eugene drove the van, Dan drove Anatoly’s Mondeo, Toby slipped into the 350Z and Jacob followed in the Audi.
At the far end of Avey Lane, Sammi had thrown the fake blood capsules into the hedge, washed her face with bottled water and dried it using her torn T-shirt, pulled on a spare shirt and was now behind the wheel of Sunrise’s VW Scirocco.
Chaz was back behind the wheel of the Corsa and Tien was following them in the BMW-3 with the seat raised back to its normal height. She called Kara first and then Dinger, “All done, no hassles, we’re clear.”
“See you tonight, clock’s ticking,” Dinger said and ended the call. It was 08:07.
Chapter 31
Saturday Mid-Morning. Arlesey
A floodlight spot, normally use
d for under lighting of portrait subjects was turned on. The bright glare picked out the conscious figure of Emilia Shibkova. She was firmly bound to a wooden dining chair positioned just in front of a full width black backdrop. Behind this partition, in the rear third of Chris Sterling’s workshop, come studio, were Emilia’s two colleagues, Uzy Jabarin and Anatoly Maltsev; also conscious and also bound to chairs.
Kara stood at a side bench where the three security guard’s personal belongings were laid out. She was flicking through the two men’s wallets and Emilia’s slimline card holder. The driving licenses of all three lay on the bench.
Emilia’s chair was central to the tableau Kara and her team had planned. To the Russian’s front, on either side of the workshop, stood Dan and Eugene. Both wore white T-shirts that revealed their impressive physiques. Behind them, in partial shadow sat Sammi. Her face half turned away. Directly to Sammi’s rear stood Chaz. He wore an open-necked shirt and his shoulder holster was prominent.
Kara walked across to the other side of the space that she thought of like a stage. Set and lit for effect. She watched Emilia’s head turn to follow her. The Russian woman’s eyes gave no indication of fear. Her face was a little distorted by the heavy duct tape that still clamped her mouth shut but the overall impression was one of complete indifference.
Kara dragged a chair to almost directly in front of Emilia but offset enough so that the Russian would still have a sightline through to Sammi. Kara sat down and crossed her legs, left over right. Her left shoe pointing at the bound woman. Settling herself, she concentrated on making her voice conversational, yet cold.
“Emilia. Emilia Shibkova. Welcome back to this little abode.” Kara cast her hand around the workshop. “I know you and your colleagues have been here before,” Kara lied, knowing nothing of certainty and hoping their assumptions about who had taken the Sterlings would prove correct. But she kept any trace of doubt out of her voice.
“I know you came here and took Chris and Brenda Sterling. I know all of that. But,” she paused and was quite impressed that during her opening statement there had not been one flicker of emotion in the Russian’s eyes. She let the pause draw out, “What I don’t know is where you took them. That’s all I want to know. Simple.” She gestured with her hand and both Eugene and Dan stepped forward to be either side of Emilia’s chair. Again Kara was impressed. Two big men like that walking forward, with all their latent aggressiveness on show and still the Russian never flinched.
“The thing is Emilia, you might be thinking that you will be the hero. Or heroine. That you will say nothing, tell me nothing and thereby prove to your male colleagues behind you that you are tough. Even tougher than they are. But,” again Kara paused for effect. Again she let the pause drag on, “You’d be foolish. For that’s the point. I have two of your colleagues. If you don’t tell me what I want,” Kara reached down to her left ankle. In full view of Emilia’s watchful eyes, she raised the leg of her jeans up and drew her pistol from the concealed-carry leg holster strapped to her shin, “I’ll just shoot you.”
Kara uncrossed her legs and leant back in her chair. She nestled the pistol on her lap. “And I don’t mean shoot you in the arm or the leg or any of that nonsense.” Kara shook her head to add emphasis.
“No, I mean shoot you through the head. Your life will end here. In this shed. You will die inside a little box in England and it will be for nothing. Truly a waste. For I will kick your body to one side and go get another of your colleagues and they will tell me.” Kara rubbed the sole of her right shoe across the floor. “Your blood will seep through these floorboards and they will have told me what I want and you will have wasted the one life you have,” she paused again and looked into Emilia’s eyes. There was still nothing but a focused disinterest. “That’s why I brought you all together. I have spares. I assure you, you will die for nothing for if the second one I choose doesn’t tell me, sure as hell is waiting for both you and me, the third one will.”
Emilia blinked slowly and then breathed deeply through her nose and shut her eyes, like she had decided to go to sleep. Kara wanted to applaud. Emilia was one resilient lady. Shame it would all be for nothing. She had been picked first for a reason. They expected her to be the least likely to give them anything. It was ever the way. Kara remembered reading about the advice of the German anti-terrorist teams in the 1970’s; ‘Kill the women fighters first, for they’re the most vicious, the most hard-line, the least likely to surrender peacefully.’
Kara stood, “Now Emilia, I’m going to have my friends here take off your gag. You will answer my question. If you don’t I shall kill you. If you do answer it then I shall simply hold you and your friends here for twelve hours and then I shall let you go. Disposal of bodies is such a pain. I would much prefer to let you walk away. Oh and a final word, as you know, this workshop is in a secluded garden of an isolated house. If you insist on screaming out then feel free. No one’s coming to help.”
She nodded at Dan and Eugene. Eugene held the woman’s head and Dan ripped the tape off in one quick movement.
Emilia grunted with the pain, took a deep breath and began to shout, “You are all dead, fucking dead. You have no fucking clue who you are fucking with.” Her pronunciation of the expletives was ferocious. She seemed to fill them with loathing, contempt and hatred. Kara had to suppress a smile. The woman was a mini-tornado.
“Fucking all of you fucking people are dead. I shall watch your bodies burn in piss. Vy chertovski shlyukha, ya budu rvat' vas na dva.” Kara nodded at Dan and Eugene and they reapplied the duct tape.
“Now, now Emilia. What did I say? Before I give you a second, and last, chance I’d like to correct a few things. Firstly, I’m not sure you can burn people in piss but I’ll let that slide. English isn’t your first language. Secondly, on the contrary, I know exactly who you are. The problem is that you don’t know who you’re dealing with. And thirdly, I’m not a prostitute, never have been and believe me, even if I was, you wouldn’t get close to ripping me in two before I razorval tvoyu golovu i kormila tvoyu mat’. Alright?”
Kara noticed the first real jolt to Emilia. She didn’t think the threat to ‘tear her head off and feed it to her mother’ had shocked her. More it was the fact that her interrogator had the ability to understand and reply in Russian. It had thrown the woman. Her eyes had darted up to Kara’s and there was the first hint of confusion.
“So, take two. Where did you take the Sterlings to?”
Kara walked quietly to just behind Eugene. She tapped him on the arm. He held Emilia’s head, Dan ripped off the sticky gag.
Emilia was no quieter than before, “You are fucking dead. I will tell you fucking nothing I w-”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Kara yelled at the top of her voice right next to Emilia’s ear and by sheer volume overwhelmed the Russian’s voice. Allowing a moment of quiet to spread across the workshop, Kara spoke slowly and deliberately, “Are.. you.. going to.. tell me.. where.. the Sterlings.. are?”
“Go fuck yourse- ”
Kara fired once. The noise of the Sig Sauer P239 was deafening in the workshop but its report was lost in the wind before it reached any of the neighbouring properties.
*
Tony Reynolds and his team had five cartons of potential interest lifted out of Tien Tran’s apartment, including a drawer full of mobile phones. Out of Kara Wright’s they had taken three box loads, including a pair of red high heels that were either the ones from the CCTV or a very close match. After almost three hours they had all they were going to get. It was a good effort but the one thing they were missing was Kara Wright.
He sent the rest of the team back to Huntingdon to start the review of the technical items and to fast-track the lab work on the red shoes whilst he and Moya headed to New Scotland Yard. It only took them half an hour in the light Saturday morning traffic.
Ringing ahead took a little of the processing time off their arrival but it was still a good five minutes to get through the r
eception area. Eventually they found themselves on the seventh floor and being ushered into an office that had the name of DCI Matthew Sexton stencilled on the glass.
A heavy set man rose and came around from behind his desk.
“How you doin’? I’m Matt,” he said in a broad Northern Irish accent.
Tony shook the offered hand, “Tony Reynolds and this is Detective Sergeant Moya Little.”
“Good to meet you, please sit,” Sexton said returning to his seat behind the desk. “You have me at a bit of a disadvantage. I know we helped out on some raids this morning, our DCS requested it, but I’m not too sure what it’s all about. The whole thing was handled on a real need to know basis. And I didn’t, so I don’t,” he spoke in a friendly tone, not giving any indication that he was annoyed at the shut out from the operation.
Tony and he shared the same rank but having never met before, Reynolds had to hope the man was being genuine. He decided to play it as straight as he could, “Well, you’re right in that it was delicate. Not for any other reason than the person of interest has a brother who’s one of us. We needed to make sure there were no leaks, real or imagined.”
Sexton sat a little straighter, “By one of us, you mean Police?”
“Yes, but even more so. He’s a detective,” Reynolds said.
“In here?” Sexton asked and looked through the glass walls of his office to the detective desks of the Met’s Homicide and Serious Crime Command. “He’s in SCD1?”
Reynolds nodded.
“Ah fuck,” Sexton said under his breath. “Who is it?”
Tony brought Sexton up to speed on the case and ended with the fact that they could find no trace of Kara Wright at home or work.
“I can’t see him tipping her off to run. He’s not on the duty squad this weekend so he wouldn’t even have known about this morning’s raid,” Sexton said a little defensively.