“What’s up, Bryce?” she began as she walked in. “I thought you were going to call with the information?”
He looked her up and down with a grin of approval. “What, and miss seeing first-hand how good you look? Not on your life. And you do look good, Sam. Real good.”
She looked at him with distaste. “So tell me what you got?” McCall ignored his smarmy chat-up lines, intrigued by the large brown envelope in his hand.
He lifted it up and shook his head. “Uh uh, sorry, Sam, this is for the captain.”
McCall rolled her eyes and led the way to Brant’s office. Before going in, she stopped and turned round suddenly, raising a hand to stop him. “You wait here.”
Bryce faked a sorrowful look and sat on the edge of the desk in front of Brant’s office. She knocked and entered, saying, “Sir, I had to call someone for some information on Jones.”
Brant’s face fell as he looked outside the office to see Bryce’s smug face smiling at him. “Why in the name of God did you call that jerk-off?” He looked up, saw in her eyes the pain, and realised that she’d only brought him because there was no alternative. “Has he got anything?”
McCall nodded in answer to the captain’s question. “He says he will only give it to you.”
Brant growled at the thought of having to be anywhere near the man. “Okay, let’s see what the asshole has got.” Brant walked out with McCall following close behind.
“Captain Brant, it’s so great to see you again,” Bryce gushed and smiled.
“Pity I can’t say the same,” Brant replied brusquely. “Okay, so what you got?”
The agent stuck out his bottom lip and tried to look distraught. Brant snatched the envelope that Bryce handed to him. Brant read the document then looked up at the smug looking officer. “You have got to be kidding me,” Brant said, shocked at what he’d read.
“What is it?” McCall asked, taking the document from him. She read it quickly, then looked up with a shocked expression on her face that reflected too many sleepless nights. “This is a warrant. So you want all documentation on the case?”
Bryce gave an oily smile and raised his hands, palm upwards in mock apology. “Sorry, but it’s a federal case now.”
Brant stared into his eyes as he ripped up the warrant. Bryce looked shocked at the demonstration of the captain’s utter contempt for him.
“You can’t do that,” he blustered angrily. “That’s a federal warrant.”
Brant nodded as he threw the bits of paper at him. “Yes, a warrant that your superiors knew nothing about. In fact they were very surprised to learn that you hadn’t mentioned that Agent Jones was in our morgue.”
Bryce moved towards the door, but was surprised to find two huge uniformed officers standing behind him.
“Agent Bryce,” Brant said calmly. “We have some questions to ask you regarding Agent Jones before some nasty looking men come to take you back to Langley for a chat.”
Bryce’s features registered despair—he knew he had nowhere to run. They went into one of the interrogation rooms for some privacy. McCall knew she had him, and breaking him would make her feel a little better. He sat on the chair opposite the mirror and looked round quickly. “So, Agent Bryce, how long had you and Agent Jones been tailing these people?” McCall said, slapping pictures from Jones’s attic onto the table that was between them. These were pictures of the Joneses’ everyday lives, with the family shopping, working and socializing.
Bryce looked down at them and shrugged. “What makes you think we worked together on anything?” He smiled briefly, his eyes constantly searching the room, looking anywhere but at Sam or the mirror. McCall leant forwards and opened another file containing security camera stills of him with two-way Jones.
“Well, if you weren’t working together then why have I got camera footage of you and Jones meeting with several of the victims before they died?” she asked.
Bryce leant back in his chair. Despite his ‘Don’t give a crap’ attitude, small beads of sweat had started to form on his forehead.
“What was the mission?” she demanded. “And why kill them?”
Bryce looked up, shocked at the insinuation. “Kill them? We didn’t kill them we were... He was supposed to look after them, that’s the truth.”
McCall took some satisfaction in watching him squirm.
“Look, we got word that something big was going to happen, someone was recruiting people to put some sort of operation together,” the agent explained. “Some guy was blackmailing these people into doing the things they did.”
McCall sat back in the chair and listened.
“Your electrician, he had to install some sort of network and security stuff into something. He never said what, just that it was a big job. The recruiter had to get some people permits to work on a liner or passenger jet.” Bryce leant onto the table, his weight now resting on his forearms as he rubbed his hands together. “The crane guy was also a welder; his job was to install some tanks or something.”
McCall watched him as he sat there; she noticed the beads of sweat start to accumulate on his forehead as he kept looking at the elevator. “Go on, tell me, what was the job that had to be kept so secret?” Bryce shrugged. “I don’t know. Look, our agent in London said she had gotten a tip that some major terror organization was planning something big, then about three weeks ago she disappears. We had everyone looking for her, but no, she was gone. At first we thought she had been taken out by the group she was tailing.” Bryce took a sip of water from the bottle that McCall had brought in for him. He looked up at McCall and saw thunder in her eyes. “We thought we had lost her for good until she turned up at your city morgue as a Jane Doe.”
McCall sat back, gobsmacked. “She was one of yours? But why the fancy clothes?”
Bryce shook his head. “She only did that if she had to be someone. You see Sam, Agent Carrol was a chameleon. Her job was to impersonate other people and blend with the crowd, whether she was getting information or doing wet work.”
Sam drank from her own water bottle as she sat back in her chair. “Did any names come up? Or did anything happen that might tie everything together?”
Bryce took out his cell phone and searched through his messages until the right one came up. “Here we are, Callan Industries. She found some, shall we say discrepancies with the company.”
McCall felt the colour drain from her cheeks. She’d heard that name Callan, but she couldn’t place where. She stood up and quickly excused herself as she ran to her desk. Frantically she searched her desktop and the drawers for clues.
“What’s up, McCall, you lose something?” asked Detective Rodriguez, who sat at the desk in front of hers.
“Yes a post-it or bit of paper. It had a name on it.”
Pablo Rodriguez checked his desk and found a dirty looking yellow post-it stuck with the pile of others. “I guess the janitor thought it was mine and put it on my desk,” Rodriguez said. “Here.”
Sam reached over and took it while giving him a grateful smile. “Oh thank God, thanks a million, Pablo.” She looked at the note then up at Pablo. The man was average height and build but he had a presence about him that normally read as ’Don’t mess with me’.
Her eyes were stern. “Pablo, can you check this out for me, please?”
His smile was warm. “No problem, McCall, but you owe me a beer.”
She cracked a smile that faded as soon as she turned and saw Bryce inside the interrogation room. She straightened herself out and went back in for round two with the federal agent. “So why did you want our investigation files?” she asked him. “So you could go to the big boss and say all that we’d done was your own handiwork?”
Bryce scowled at her as he drank. “It wasn’t like that,” he said, trying to sound honest. “Really, it was because you’re very good at what you do.” Bryce suddenly had a look of someone who had just been slapped in the face. “McCall, look, about the thing... I am sorry.”
McCall gave him a venomous look and walked out, saying, “You can go now, Agent Bryce. Thank you for your help.”
The angry detective walked into the break room and just stood for a moment resting on her arms against the table top, her head down as she sucked in the air to try and calm herself down. There was a knock on the door and the captain walked in, his large frame beside the counter next to the coffee machine. “You okay, McCall?” he asked.
She stood up straight and turned to face him, her eyes bloodshot from emotion but there were no tears, not for him. “No, not really.” She smiled softly as he pointed a thumb at Bryce, who was heading for the elevator, and asked if the agent was the cause of her gloom. McCall shook her head. “No, I’m not worried about him. I’m thinking about John Steel. He tried to tell me something but he gets me so mad I couldn’t listen. He tried to warn me about Callan Industries.”
THIRTY-ONE
Steel had made it to the lower decks unnoticed by the mercenaries. His plan had gone wrong but it still remained the same: get them off the ship so they couldn’t be used as leverage against him. Down below the ship had a number of dimly lit corridors with shadowy corners that gave the white iron walls an elongated effect. Steel knew exactly which room he had to search, it was the one whose door had the large DO NOT ENTER sign on it. Whatever was inside that room was worth killing for—as the engineer kid had found out with deadly consequences.
He moved slowly, making sure he kept to the doorways and alcoves, his machine pistol held ready and its skeleton stock firmly embedded into the arch on his shoulder. The thumping heartbeat of the mighty ship vibrated through the thick walls, making them reverberate with the echoes of each heavy thud; the noise was almost hypnotic and it also made it impossible for him to hear anyone sneaking up on him.
Steel stopped and knelt down as he strained to listen to the sudden noise coming from one of the rooms. Slowly he crept forwards, his weapon ready but the safety catch on in case it was one of his group of contacts who was responsible. As he drew near he saw that this room was indeed the cargo hold he was looking for, and that the door was slightly ajar. The voices that emanated from within were both familiar and welcoming to his ears: they belonged to the survivors from the smoking room.
“Okay, so Black wanted us to meet him here, do we know why?”
Steel smiled as he recognized the angry voice of Albert Studebaker as he hid behind a group of crates. These had been stacked up, creating a wall that ran parallel with the wall of the vessel itself. Inside the room crates and boxes had been stacked up, and one pile of them ran along the west wall, creating a kind of staircase to the roof. Both sections of stacked crates seemed to encase an open area in the middle of the room.
Anthony Blacke walked towards the others, who were standing in front of ten large military-style cases, each one measuring around two feet square. He stopped and his eyes widened as he saw the weathered cases.
“I think there has been a terrible mistake,” Blacke said anxiously. “We need to get out of here, it isn’t safe.” He moved towards the shadows of the dimly-lit room, looking around as he walked, as if he was expecting to see someone. Suddenly there was a muffed cry, then Blacke slid across the floor, halting just in front of the others.
“You’re not going anywhere, Blacke,” ordered the man in the shadows. “Get your ass back there.” Everyone looked over to where he was and they gasped as they saw Steel walk towards them, still partly bathed in shadow.
“Black, what the hell is going on?” yelled a red-faced Albert Studebaker.
“What?” Blacke and Steel asked in unison. Albert was about to speak then decided against and shook his head in confusion.
“Not you, him!” the large American said as he thrust a fat finger towards Steel. “Why don’t you ask him? After all, we are all here because of his cargo.”
“By the way, do you know what it is yet?” Steel asked curiously, as he edged back and rested against a column of huge steel crates with stamps saying ‘South America’ on them. “So what’s in the boxes, Mr Blacke? Weapons? Diamonds? The Ark of the Covenant?”
Blacke stood up and brushed himself off. “I—er—I don’t know.” Everyone looked blankly at him, Vedas crunched his knuckles as preparation for giving him a good beating.
Steel smiled and shook his head. “Okay, let me get this straight. You have no idea what is in these boxes, yet people have died over them on the off chance they contain something valuable.”
Blacke nodded shamefully. “They came off a ship that was smuggling arms out of New York. I was on a salvage operation and I found these boxes and thought they were sealed up pretty tight so whatever was inside was safe from the elements. Hell, I thought it was firearms, and that I could sell them off and, well, you know.”
Steel nodded with a disappointed look on his face. “So why don’t you just open them and find out?” He looked over at the silent Blacke and his mouth fell open in surprise. “You can’t open them, can you? You were hoping one of these people could open them for you, weren’t you?”
Blacke backed away from the others as they shot him looks of pure hatred. “The captain he had the key, I found him online saying he had a strange key and wondered if it belonged to anyone. The picture on the screen showed a long device that seemed to fit the locks.” Blacke pointed to the cases that the group were leaning against. Suddenly fearful of the contents of the boxes, the group shot away from them and stood some distance away.
On the front of each box was a gap where it looked as if something was missing. Steel looked down at his watch and stood up straight. “We can finish this later, but now we have to go, the lifeboats are on Deck Five in the outer corridors, we have to move as one. When we get there we get off the ship.”
The group of people got themselves ready to move out and started to line up behind Steel in single file. Vedas grabbed Blacke and made sure that the conman remained in front of him. “Please, you go before me,” Vadas spoke with venom and mock politeness. “I really must insist.”
As they edged out into the corridor, Steel checked to right and left before moving out. “Tony, why bring us down here if we have to go up again?” Tia said to him, and her large glistening eyes were like deep, dark pools in the dim light.
Steel stopped and looked round at her. “What are you talking about? I told you lot to stay upstairs.” Tia looked panicked as she showed the text massage on her phone to Steel. “Tia,” he told her. “I never sent that.”
The sound of the metal door being opened at the end of the long corridor made them all turn round. “Quickly, in there!” Steel whispered as he pointed towards another cargo hold next to the one they had just left. Moving quickly they dived into the room and Steel slowly closed the door, just as he heard the entranceway door squeak open. Metal ground against metal on the heavy doors’ hinges as they were opened and closed. The echo of heavy footsteps travelled towards them as the stranger approached. Steel had not fully closed the door, as he needed to hear if the newcomer was going straight on or stopping. He needed information before he could act.
“Yes, I am nearly there,” said the man, obviously talking on a phone. “Of course, I have had the key for ages, courtesy of some Russian spook. What? No, no, everything is on schedule. How’s things at your end?” Steel made out a heavy Irish accent, and the man who was now laughing at whatever the caller was talking about. Steel missed the rest of the conversation as the stranger entered the cargo hold that they had just left.
“Everyone stay here, no matter what, okay?” he told them. Everyone nodded apart from Blacke, who was being held by the back of his jacket collar by Vedas. Steel smiled and shook his head at the amusing sight of Blacke, who for all the world looked like a lion cub that was being held by its mother.
Steel edged out into the corridor, weapon at the ready. As he approached, he saw the door was fully open and he could make out the sound of electronic beeps, like the sound of a keypad being used. As he moved into the room Steel stuck to
the shadows and kept low. He needed to find out who this was and what was in the cases, not to have a gunfight. Edging round the corner of one set of stacked crates, Steel saw a hooded figure in front of the boxes that Blacke had pointed out earlier. There was a click as the lock was released and the man opened up the crate. Steel was unable to see what was within it, as the large military-looking crate was at shoulder height. Realising that he only had one chance, Steel decided to make his move.
“Okay, put your hands up and interlock them at the back of your head and turn round slowly,” Steel ordered, with the barrel of the UMP machine pistol pointing at the stranger’s chest area. At this close range Steel knew the 45 calibre rounds would tear the man apart, even if he had a bulletproof vest on. The figure had just began to turn when Steel heard a noise behind him. Steel tilted his head slightly towards the sound in the hope of finding out what was the cause. The man he’d caught seized the opportunity and kicked upwards, but Steel caught the man’s foot and threw him forwards into a stack of small cardboard boxes. The sound of breaking crockery was drowned out by the noise of gunfire from behind Steel, who dived for cover.
“Stop shooting, you idiots, you’ll hit the crates!” yelled a voice from the doorway. John Steel reckoned it was a mercenary sweep-team looking for Blacke. “Okay, move in and sweep!” the voice commanded. From his vantage point, Steel watched with curiosity as he saw the man he’d almost caught use the stacked crates on the west wall as a ladder to climb up towards the ceiling. The man then stopped and pushed up at one of the ceiling panels, which opened up into a maintenance hatch.
Quickly Steel put on his respirator and fired some shots after the figure. He heard the yells telling him to put down his weapon as the team moved round the corner on hearing the gunfire.
“What the hell is going on?” yelled the team leader as he ventured in and saw what appeared to be one of his men on his knees with the others surrounding him. The leader pushed the others out of the way to get to Steel. “Report!” he yelled.
Operation:UNITY (John Steel series Book 2) Page 35