Seven Day Hero

by J. T. Brannan

  As Albright looked at himself through his remaining eye, part of himself wished he wasn’t. Dark, ugly scabs formed across his previously perfect face, left by the woman’s clawing nails; his once beautifully coiffured blond hair had been shaved off to allow the surgeons access to his skull. And that wasn’t even to mention his eye and his nose. His face, he realized in grim depression, was ruined. Sure, he could always have plastic surgery, and it might even be a pretty good job; but it would no longer be his face, and he would always have to live with that.

  The part of him that wondered if life was now worth living was short-lived, however. Of course it was, he reminded himself. How else am I going to kill that bitch and her entire fucking family?

  And so slowly, carefully, yet with grave determination, he unplugged the drips and monitors that surrounded him and raised himself up in the bed, swinging his legs off the side and onto the cold hospital floor.

  Back to work, he thought grimly.

  51

  Cole opened his eyes slowly, blinking at the harsh overhead lights as if he was waking for the first time. A look of confusion spread across his face as he pretended to take it all in.

  ‘What . . . What’s going on?’ he asked weakly in German. ‘Where am I?’

  As the paramedics tried to console and reassure him, Cole saw the policeman rise from his seat and approach, his head coming down towards Cole.

  ‘The police?’ said Cole. ‘Why? What . . .’

  ‘We know that the car was stolen,’ the man said. ‘You’re in big trouble, sir.’

  The ambulance team began to remonstrate with him for badgering their patient, but Cole whispered faintly, ‘No, no, it’s okay.’ He gestured with his head for the officer to come closer. ‘Come here,’ he continued, his voice getting weaker, ‘I need to tell you something . . . about the car.’

  His curiosity aroused, the officer bent forwards, his head going close to Cole’s so that he could hear the quiet words.

  Before he knew what was happening, he felt a blinding pain in the side of his head, searing in intensity. He heard a high-pitched noise, and realized it was his own screams.

  Cole had slipped his hands and lower arms out of the straps, and whilst he grabbed the officer’s head with one hand, pulling it close and sinking his teeth into the man’s ear, his other hand shot across to retrieve the handgun from the open belt holster.

  Putting the gun tight to the officer’s head, cradled across his chest, he let go of the ear and snapped at the shocked medics. ‘Get these straps off me! Now!’

  The men remained frozen to the spot, and Cole noticed a dark stain appear on the trouser leg of the nearest man. ‘Do it or I’ll blow his fucking head off! Do it!’

  The man furthest away acted first, reaching down to untie Cole’s head, then his arms, body and legs. The policeman was meanwhile sobbing into Cole’s chest, begging for mercy, for his life to be spared.

  Cole sat up, ordering the medics to the doors at the back of the vehicle. ‘Open them,’ he ordered. The first man again did as he was told. ‘Now jump.’

  The speed wasn’t great, so the first man jumped quickly, rolling over in the ice and snow into a small heap. The second medic was still frozen, petrified. Cole gestured aggressively towards him, and the man squeaked as he jumped reflexively backwards, he too rolling across the icy road.

  Cole shoved the policeman towards the door, aiming the gun at his chest. ‘Now you.’

  Cole could see the officer weighing his options – his ambition telling him to capture the criminal, his logical mind telling him to jump.

  He made his choice and moved unsurely towards Cole, but Cole was ready. He launched a vicious thrusting front kick to the officer’s chest that sent him sailing out of the back of the ambulance into the road beyond.

  Cole closed the doors, and looked towards the other end, where there was a door to the cabin.

  He stretched the kinks out of his body, and tried to shake off his headache – maybe he was concussed after all – and pushed through the door, gun aimed at the driver.

  The man was caught completely off guard, surprised – he had heard nothing from the rear compartment. ‘What do you want?’ he asked, horrified.

  ‘Just keep driving and you’ll be fine,’ Cole said calmly, looking out of the windscreen. The weather had improved, but visibility was still poor. Even so, Cole could make out what looked like a large concrete structure just up ahead.

  ‘Where are we?’ he asked the driver, although he feared he knew the answer.

  ‘We’re here, we’re here. The hospital. Just let me out, okay? Please?’

  Cole was silent. As they cruised up to the entrance, he could see the two men standing to one side, motionless. Truro and Vinh. Cole recognized them instantly, having worked with them on a couple of ops in the long and distant past. Because of his plastic surgery, they would not recognize him, of course; but Cole knew that it would not matter to them even if they did recognize him. They were bad news, ruthless professionals that could be trusted to get the job done.

  ‘Get out,’ Cole ordered the driver. ‘Now!’

  The ambulance was slowing down to a halt anyway, so the driver gladly opened the door and jumped out, running for freedom even as Cole slipped into the driver’s seat and gunned the accelerator.

  Neither Truro nor Vinh could believe their eyes. They had seen the ambulance coming from a distance, its headlights illuminating its path through the thick snowfall. They were gearing up to retrieve the target from the back of the vehicle when it got close enough to see clearly. And what they saw inside the cab made them immediately sick. A man matching the description of their target, holding a gun to the driver’s head. And then the driver was jumping out of the vehicle, the target was taking the wheel and –

  Both men left it too late to react, one darting left and one right. Vinh narrowly missed the front bumper, but Truro took the full force of the ambulance as it smashed into him, lifting him clear off the floor as the vehicle mounted the kerb at the front entrance, his body flying off as the ambulance came to a stop, the limp form crashing straight through the large glass double entry doors.

  Vinh watched wide-eyed as the ambulance reversed backwards off the kerb, pulled a one-eighty, and sped off back the way it had come.

  His eyes went reluctantly to the mess over in the foyer. Andy. He sprinted over to check on him, but it was too late. The impact would have broken every bone in his body, and the shattered glass had left him a bloody pulp. He checked for a pulse nevertheless, even as an army of doctors and nurses rushed towards them. There was none.

  A single tear rolled down his cheek as he ran back out into the frozen night, watching the receding tail-lights getting away from him.

  Vinh ran to get his own car, vowing to do whatever it took to destroy the man who had killed his only friend.

  52

  Cole could see the approaching lights in his wing mirrors. He knew Truro must be dead, so it would be Vinh trying to catch him. He was sure their vehicle would be fast, and would certainly handle better than the big ambulance he was driving, but Cole nevertheless tried to pick up the pace, increasing speed as he raced through the icy residential streets on his way back to the main auto route.

  The roads were mercifully quiet due to the late hour, and so Cole didn’t have to use the siren, which would make it too easy for Vinh behind him. As it was, it was even possible that he might lose his pursuer in the urban mass of the town centre, if he could keep sufficiently ahead.

  Cole turned left, then left again, before taking a right onto a long, straight road with a dozen turnings off both sides. If he could make it down there, Cole was sure Vinh would be unable to track him. He sped off down the road, the heavy vehicle coping surprisingly well with the conditions.

  He was preparing for another left hand turn when his attention was caught by a sound from his right. He checked through his side window and saw a black Range Rover accelerating out of one of the side roads towards
him, supercharged V8 engine roaring deeply. Vinh obviously wanted to ram him, unconcerned for his own safety. Cole didn’t even have time to think about where Vinh had come from, or how he had found him; he simply reacted, accelerating straight ahead, the big 4x4 narrowly missing the back of the ambulance.

  Cole kept on accelerating down the wide boulevard, and observed how Vinh controlled the vehicle, taking the turn and accelerating back after him.

  They were halfway down the main street now, and Vinh was gaining on him. Cole also thought he could hear the faint sound of sirens in the distance. Something was going to have to be done.

  Cole decided to allow Vinh to close in on him, and before long the agent’s car was just twenty metres behind him, still gaining. The end of the road was up ahead, the big stone wall of a civic museum facing them, the attached road going either left or right.

  Instead of taking the turn, Cole quickly fumbled under the dashboard for the fuse box, killing the brake lights. He then stamped hard on his brakes, bracing himself for the impact.

  You’ve got nowhere to go, Vinh silently told the driver ahead. His car was always going to beat an ambulance, no question about it. The only question now was whether he would be able to nudge the ambulance off the road and kill this guy before the police descended on the scene. He could hear the sirens less than a mile away.

  His thoughts were interrupted when he saw the back of the ambulance suddenly approaching him at an unbelievable speed. The target must have braked, but there was no warning, nothing at all, no time to stop –

  Cole felt the Range Rover smash into the back of the ambulance with a mixture of satisfaction and trepidation. He was glad it had worked, but he was aware that he now had to finish things hand to hand.

  The vehicles had come to a stop with the ambulance bonnet resting upon the museum wall, the Range Rover buried halfway into the back end.

  Cole wasted no time, and instead of jumping out of the driver’s side door he pushed straight through into the rear compartment. The Range Rover’s bonnet was almost touching the compartment wall, the whole front of the car ensconced within the rear of the ambulance. Cole leapt onto the bonnet, pistol aimed through the shattered windscreen. He scanned the interior. Nothing.

  A sound to his left made him turn his head, and he saw Vinh rising up from behind the front wheel arch, his own pistol raised. Cole instinctively kicked out, knocking the weapon out of the man’s hand and bringing his own to bare.

  Vinh was quick though, and rushed him, pulling a knife from a concealed sheath. Cole couldn’t get the handgun round fast enough to take a shot and so converted the movement into a clubbing attack, striking Vinh around the side of the head as the knife came straight at him.

  Cole parried the blow, but Vinh came back through, slicing through Cole’s arm, forcing him to drop the gun. Cole grabbed the knife arm, pushing Vinh back against the interior wall of the ambulance, knocking the air out of him. He pulled him back round and smashed the man’s arm onto the bonnet of the Range Rover, forcing him to drop the knife.

  Vinh used Cole’s distraction with the knife to grab hold of Cole himself, pulling him close in and aiming his teeth at Cole’s neck. Cole’s shoulder came up reflexively to protect himself, and Vinh’s teeth buried themselves deep into the muscle tissue there instead. Cole felt a terrible pain as Vinh’s head whipped back and forth, trying to tear the flesh.

  Vinh’s concentration on the bite, however, opened him up to someone who could keep their head clear despite incredible pain, and Cole took the opportunity provided.

  Two strikes to the unprotected parts of Vinh’s body and neck were all it took for the bite to be released, and the life to flicker out of the man’s eyes. Cole could see that Vinh genuinely had no idea what had happened to him as he collapsed dead onto the floor of the ambulance, head coming to rest against the polished alloy wheel of his Range Rover.

  Cole climbed over the car and out of the ruined back end of the ambulance, into the street. The sirens were louder now, and then he saw the flashing lights make the turn onto this street.

  He turned again, back to the museum wall. He ran straight forwards, jumping first onto the ambulance bonnet and then onto the high stone wall in front, using his momentum to propel him upwards until he could catch hold of the iron railings at the top.

  Wasting no time, he swung his legs over the top, and dropped down into the deserted museum courtyard on the far side.

  He was pretty sure he had not been seen, but that was the least of his worries; he still had to evade capture and pass through the Austrian border so he could get to the safe house and make sure his family were safe.

  53

  Sarah came around again towards nine in the evening. She had waited up for Mark’s arrival all afternoon, until the pain became too bad and Steinmeier insisted – indeed, practically forced her – to take more medication. It had laid her out again, and when she awoke in the dark, she was confused and disorientated.

  ‘Sarah,’ Steinmeier said comfortingly from the armchair near her bed. ‘It’s okay. You’re safe.’

  ‘Mark?’ she wondered out loud.

  ‘Still no word, I’m afraid. But there’s no point worrying, you’ll just slow down your recovery. He’ll be here, just not on schedule, that’s all.’

  Sarah lay back in bed, thinking. She had always known her husband was capable, and although she knew his work was dangerous, she had never before truly worried about him. Partly this was due to his own nonchalance, brushing away any talk of such danger when the subject came up. But mostly, she now realized, it stemmed from her utter ignorance of the reality of violence, and of the world her husband lived in.

  She had now been exposed to that world first hand, and the experience had changed her outlook on things irrevocably. Like an epiphany, her eyes had been opened to the cold, hard, brutal world, and now that she knew what her husband was

  up against, her faith in his safe return had started to slowly ebb away.

  He needs help, she realized. He’s in trouble.

  She felt her heart starting to race, panicking. She had to get through to her father, she knew that now. He’d help, he’d . . .

  ‘Sarah?’ asked Steinmeier urgently, holding her hand. ‘Are you alright?’

  She turned to him, nodding and smiling. ‘I . . . yes, I’m okay.’ She looked around the room. There was a telephone on the chest of drawers at the other end.

  ‘Okay,’ she began falteringly. ‘I’ll get some sleep. Can you wake me as soon as you hear anything?’

  Steinmeier smiled and nodded his head. ‘Of course, Sarah, of course. How is your pain?’

  ‘I’d better have another couple of pills.’

  Steinmeier handed her the pills and watched as she put them in her mouth and swallowed some water.

  He stayed until she was asleep again, then let himself out of the room.

  54

  Hansard could not quite believe his ears. The news that was coming from Germany was just too much to reconcile. Cole had escaped again!

  He had been strapped up helpless, under armed guard, travelling straight into the hands of two of Hansard’s best assassins! How could it possibly have gone wrong?

  But Cole wasn’t the best for no reason, and the outcome shouldn’t really have surprised him, Hansard eventually realized. The problem was, what to do now? It seemed that they had lost all of their leads, and now Cole was free to meet up with his family in whatever safe location they had chosen.

  He would be free to study the situation in detail, follow the events that would occur over the next few days, and possibly come to an understanding of what was happening, what Hansard’s overall plan was. Cole was certainly clever enough to piece everything together. The only thing was, would he do it in time to make a difference? Or would things have got to the stage where the truth no longer mattered?

  Hansard could not take the risk, of course. He immediately ordered all personnel to the Austrian border, and issued a Europe-wide w
arrant for Mark Cole’s arrest.

  He finished the bottle he had been working on for the past few hours, and headed up to bed. Tomorrow would be another big day, and there was nothing more he could do tonight.

  Cole finally managed to cross over into Austria in the early hours of the morning. Security had obviously been beefed up extensively across the entire German-Austrian border. On the main road access points there were large increases of personnel, and Cole watched from a distance as vehicles and documents were meticulously checked, some travellers being asked to step out of their cars for a full body search. Hansard had obviously ordered all hands to the pump.

  There hadn’t been enough time to transfer sufficient personnel to adequately patrol the rest of the border though, and it wasn’t as if there was barbed wire and mine fields separating the two countries. For anyone that could walk, it was in the end child’s play to get across, security enhancements or not.

  It wasn’t that there weren’t any mobile border patrols, it was just that there weren’t enough to effectively cover the area with no gaps. Cole only had to monitor the patrol routes near to the main road crossing for a couple of hours to get a good idea of when and where he could cross safely.

  Crossing over had almost been an anticlimax, it had been so easy. The true danger, Cole realized as he trudged through the deep snow on the Austrian side, was the cold. The ambulance crew had taken off his jacket and jumper, and the shirt he had on was not capable of keeping him sufficiently warm. He had jogged most of the distance he had covered in order to generate some internal body heat, but he recognized that he would be hypothermic before long, especially as he couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten. His body was exhausted, battered, hungry and frozen.