In the right-hand corner on the eastern side two open laptops sat on a wooden desk. On the floor next to it two large cardboard boxes were stacked one on top of the other. One was labelled INFUSION CRYSTAL FOUNTAINS, the other PEGASUS SKYROCKETS.
In the corner opposite the desk, on the western side, was a hooded figure sitting on a chair.
Erina moved up behind Carter. He pointed forward and signaled for her to cover his back. He wondered if the hooded figure could be a booby trap. But there was no way of knowing.
He walked to the back of the stairs and stopped a few feet from the figure. It wore black pants, a loose-fitting black jacket and dark green thongs. An executioner’s hood hung over its head. Both arms were secured behind its back around a steel pole that ran up the wall.
On closer inspection Carter noted that the feet were delicate and their toenails painted a shiny blue. He was almost certain he knew who it was.
“Vivienne?” he whispered.
The figure jerked and the hooded head nodded.
“My name’s Carter. I’m here to help. Are you wired?”
The captive shook her head.
“She could be a plant,” Erina whispered behind him.
He moved toward the girl cautiously, then reached out and felt around the hood for any detonation devices. Finding none, he peeled the hood off slowly, revealing a slightly older and edgier version of the young woman he’d seen on the wall of Callaghan’s kitchen.
She now had spiky short black hair and silver nose and eyebrow rings, but her intense dark eyes were unmistakably the same, blazing with an equal mixture of fear and defiance.
Grey electrical tape with a slit in the middle covered her mouth.
“I’m going to take the tape off,” Carter whispered. “I’ll try to be gentle, but it might sting. It’s important you remain very quiet.”
He grabbed the corner of the tape. “On the count of three.”
She nodded.
“One, two …”
He tore the tape off in one sharp movement.
“For fuck sake,” she whispered, her eyes welling from the pain. “You nearly ripped my piercing out.”
He noted a small amount of blood around a ring in her lower lip. “Sorry,” he said. “You okay otherwise?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Where’s the rest of the rescue team?”
Carter glanced over his shoulder at Erina. “We’re it.”
“You’re fucking kidding me.”
“Listen, I need you to answer some questions.”
“Aren’t you going to untie me first?”
“Be quiet and listen.”
“No way am I telling you anything until you untie me first – I’m freaking out here.”
Carter didn’t have time to waste and knew when he was beaten. He put his hands on her shoulders. “Okay. Just stay calm.”
She nodded.
He reached into his daypack and used a throwing knife to slice through the ties binding her wrists and ankles.
As she shook her arms and legs, he asked, “Do you know how many men Samudra has on the bridge?”
“Six. A South African – a real arsehole – and the two Indonesians who dragged me up here. They all had guns. Three more came an hour or so ago and left. I never saw their faces.”
“Are they on the top level?”
“I think so. People have been going up and down the stairs all night.”
“What else can you tell us?” Erina asked.
Vivienne motioned her head in the direction of the desk. “The computer on the right is linked to the surveillance cameras. The arsehole was in here for over an hour this afternoon setting it all up. You might want to check it out.”
21
Erina sat in the chair behind the computer screen. Carter stood at her shoulder with his SIG at the ready.
She hit some keys and the screen came to life. Five icons appeared – Entrance, Level One, Level Two, Outside/Bridge Deck and Lookout. Each was linked to a video-surveillance feed.
She clicked Entrance.
Clear.
Next she clicked the icon Outside/Bridge Deck.
Carter leaned forward. The screen showed murky images of three armed men dressed in uniforms moving across the train tracks toward the pylon.
One carried a pump-action shotgun, the other two automatic rifles. Each weapon was fitted with a high-tech night scope. They had enough firepower to wipe out two football teams in three seconds flat.
Carter studied the men. Though they wore body armor and heavy boots, none possessed Alex’s imposing physique.
Erina clicked on the Lookout icon.
The screen was black, as if someone had placed tape over the camera lens.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said, almost certain that Alex and his men had stationed themselves on the lookout one floor above. “Time to call in the cavalry.”
“What the fuck’s going on?” Vivienne asked.
“Hold tight and stay put,” Erina said and handed Carter the phone.
He pressed 1, hit dial and put it to his ear.
The phone rang twice.
An automated female voice came on the line. “Your service is temporarily unavailable. Please try again later.”
The phone clicked off.
“What is it?” Erina asked.
He handed her the phone and said, “No service. I’ll bet they’ve got a blocking device covering the inside of the pylon.”
Before she had a chance to respond, the lights went out, plunging them into total darkness.
A loud thump echoed somewhere beneath them.
“Fuuuck,” Vivienne said. “What was that?”
“Sounds like we have visitors,” Carter said. “Keep quiet and come over here by us.”
He guided her into a crouch next to Erina, who’d dropped to the floor. Erina shone the light of the phone screen onto the cardboard boxes stacked near the computers.
From below, another loud crash reverberated through the pylon.
Carter counted three sets of footsteps. The men had broken through the door and were inside, tramping up the first set of metal stairs, not caring who heard them. They sounded as if they were pumped full of arrogance and bravado, suggesting they were relative amateurs.
He turned toward Erina, who was ripping open the carton marked PEGASUS SKYROCKETS.
“Are you planning on putting on a private fireworks display?” Vivienne asked her, sounding incredulous.
“Something like that,” Erina said. “Here.” She handed Vivienne the phone. “Make yourself useful and give us some light.”
Vivienne held it in her right hand. Carter could tell she was trying to control her nervous shaking.
Erina extracted four rockets from the open box and then took five INFUSION CRYSTAL FOUNTAINS from the other one.
“What exactly have you got in mind?” Carter asked.
“I’m going to take Vivienne up the stairs toward the roof and stay with her,” she said. “I’ll set up the fountains and rockets along the way. We want to give the late arrivals a bright welcome.”
Carter knew exactly what she meant and said, “You’re quite the hostess.”
“You never get a second chance to make a first impression.”
He opened his daypack and laid it on the floor. Vivienne shone the light over it while he extracted a plastic lighter and a roll of grey duct tape. He handed them to Erina.
She grabbed Vivienne’s hand and hurried up the stairs. Carter stuffed the phone back in the daypack and took out his Glock. He then threw the pack under the wooden desk and slid in after it, facedown.
His shoulder, hip and left leg pressed flush against the wall. He held the SIG near his right shoulder with his finger on the trigger and placed his Glock by his left hip within easy reach. He had a feeling he’d need all the firepower he could gather.
He remained still, breathing softly and listening to the steady thump of footsteps
moving toward him. The three men had already reached level two and were heading for the third floor. The beat of their boots had changed – they were cautious now, moving more slowly.
Carter imagined himself in their position. They’d be pumped full of adrenalin, holding their rifles to their shoulders, peering through their night scopes, seeing the world as a series of glowing green shadows.
The sounds of the marching boots changed again.
They’d stepped onto the third level. They were just a few feet away, moving much more slowly now.
He heard Erina above him, lighting the fireworks.
He squeezed his eyes shut tight, placed his hands firmly over his ears and started counting.
One, two …
He never got to three.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
22
Carter lay perfectly still under the table.
The four rockets detonated one by one, like a cluster of small bombs exploding. Then, with his ears ringing, he heard the whooshing sound of the crystal fountains.
Each whoosh heralded a shower of bright colored lights that’d make the night scopes useless and disorient the three men hunting him.
An automatic rifle barked.
Rat tat tat tat …
A split second later another joined in, followed by the double BOOM BOOM of the shotgun.
The three guys were spooked, shooting blind – but that didn’t make their bullets any less deadly.
Lead smashed into steel and brick, echoing around the enclosed chamber. The acrid smell of gunpowder and smoke filled the air.
Then the firing ceased.
Above him the sound of the fountains swirled.
He heard a high-pitched voice nearby shout in Indonesian, “You see him?”
They’d still be blinded by Erina’s lightshow.
“Diam.” Shut up.
Carter opened his eyes.
From the floor under the table he saw three sets of black trouser legs and boots near the top of the stairs, forming a tight triangle.
Bad move. They should’ve spread out.
He picked up the Glock and threw it across the room.
There was a moment of silence followed by a loud clatter as it bounced against the opposite wall.
The boots turned toward the sound.
A burst of gunfire from the automatic rifles sprayed the far wall.
The shotgun boomed.
Carter slid in a smooth movement from under the table, holding the SIG. There was still enough light from the fireworks to see his targets.
He rose to his feet, raised the SIG to his shoulder, took aim and squeezed off three shots.
The first shot hit the closest man in the side of the neck. The second got the next man between the back of his helmet and the top of his body armor. Carter shot the last guy in the throat when he turned toward him.
The three men collapsed to the ground.
The last of the fireworks gave a final splutter and died.
Carter started moving toward the stairs in the silent darkness.
Then stopped.
Somewhere above him, a door opened and closed.
A set of heavy footsteps came racing down the metal stairs.
He looked up into the darkness.
Erina’s loud scream echoed around the pylon. “CAAAAAARTEEER!”
A chilling dread cut through him.
Something dropped on the floor.
It bounced once … twice …
23
Carter ran back toward the desk and dived under it.
He threw it on its side, sending the computers flying, using the front surface as a shield. He then curled himself into the fetal position and covered his head with his arms.
Time froze.
Erina’s scream still echoed in his mind.
He held his breath and braced himself for what he expected was a grenade.
There was nothing he could do but wait.
He had to hand it to Alex. He’d thought through every scenario in detail and had kept one step ahead.
BOOM.
An ear-splitting explosion ripped through the pylon.
A hail of shrapnel whistled through the air, bouncing off the cement walls and drumming against the tabletop.
For the briefest of moments he thought he’d defied the odds and avoided being hit. Then a wave of intense pain hit him in the back.
It started just below his right shoulder and shot up his neck to the base of his skull, like he’d been jabbed from the inside with a red-hot poker.
He flinched, tensing his back muscles, and lay still. If a ligament or muscle had been severed or a bone broken, he was in trouble.
There wasn’t a moment to lose. Alex might send someone down to finish him off.
But this was no time to rush, either. He forced himself to sit upright, unzipped his wetsuit and peeled the top off his shoulders.
Another wave of searing pain made him clench his jaw.
He breathed into the pain and worked his forefinger into the wound, probing deep into his flesh.
The tip of his finger touched two pieces of rounded metal the size of cherry pips – shrapnel from a frag grenade.
The two bearings were lodged just below his right shoulder joint. They must have bounced off a wall or the stairs before slamming into him. He hadn’t exactly won the lottery, but a direct hit would’ve shattered his shoulder, making a tough situation close to impossible.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead, relaxed his back muscles and dug in again, probing even deeper.
It took all his focus to counter the shooting pain.
Just when he thought he could take no more, the two smooth bearings popped out and rolled on the floor like a couple of loose marbles. He let out a jagged sigh.
Getting the shrapnel out of his body was a good start.
He pushed himself to his feet one-handed, walked over to one of the dead guys, knelt down and tore a long strip off his shirt. He stood up, wound it round his shoulder and tied it off.
The crude dressing would stem the bleeding and support his shoulder joint for a while at least.
He rotated his shoulder back, then forward.
Good enough.
Slowly, he worked his arm back into the wetsuit and zipped it up with his left hand.
He felt for his daypack in the dark, then found the table and righted it. Squatting beneath it, he would be hidden from Alex’s surveillance cameras – at least he hoped he would be.
Carter opened the daypack, shone the phone light inside and took out three drug-tipped darts and two star knives.
He stuck the darts under his tongue and slipped the ultra-slim star knives into two velcro pockets in each arm of his wetsuit, just above the inside of his wrist. It’d take an extremely thorough search to detect them.
The phone read 11.06 p.m. He turned it to full volume, set the alarm for 11.15 p.m., and stepped back out onto the third floor.
Without warning the overhead lights burst back on.
Alex’s voice boomed through overhead speakers. “If you want to see Erina and the girl again, you’ll come up the stairs to the lookout, unarmed. Keep your hands where I can see them.”
24
Carter started up the stairs toward the top level of the pylon. Perhaps Alex had planned to separate him and Erina all along, knowing it was always easier to pick off two individuals than a team.
He’d seen a map of the south-east pylon, which was open to the public. The top level was a single room known as the “indoor lookout,” which provided tourists with a view of the harbor when the weather was inclement. It had a door opening onto a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree open-air lookout deck that wrapped around the room’s four walls. The layout of the south-west pylon was the same, but the indoor room was used as a storeroom. On top of the storeroom’s roof was a gun deck, which could be reached by a pull-down metal ladder. During the Second World War the four pylons had been taken over by the military, and gun parapets w
ere built and used as anti-aircraft posts, which were never removed.
He mounted the final set of steps, half expecting to be greeted by armed clansmen. But he saw no sign of anyone. Just a cluttered rectangular room filled with cardboard boxes of electrical equipment, more disused CCTV cameras, aluminum stepladders and cleaning equipment.
One feature stood out. The eight smallish windows that surrounded the room had been painted black, like the sliding doors on the floor below.
The door to the outdoor lookout was closed. He pushed the throbbing pain in his shoulder out of his mind and breathed in. His body might be wounded but his mind and spirit were strong and ready.
From the other side of the door he could feel the energy of Alex and his men. They’d be wielding automatic rifles, whereas he was armed with a phone, three darts and a couple of ninja star knives.
To an outsider his position would appear hopeless.
But he knew better.
In a life-and-death battle the rules were different. It took far more than mere numerical superiority and firepower. Such moments tested a man to the core, stripped him bare of everything that was false, revealing his true self and enabling him to perceive more than could be seen with the naked eye.
He glanced at the phone.
11.08 p.m.
So long as Alex resisted the urge to simply shoot him on sight the instant he stepped onto the rooftop balcony, he was in with a chance.
Knowing Alex as well as he did, he figured he’d take a perverse pleasure in tormenting him before the final execution.
Carter turned the handle and pulled the door open a crack.
“I’m coming out,” he said. “Unarmed.”
He raised his arms high and used his elbow to shove the door open.
The balcony was narrow – it was just five feet from where he stood to the chest-high ledge that surrounded the lookout – but it ran the full length of the western side of the pylon, about twenty-five yards, before disappearing around the corner at each end. He stepped through the door onto the rain-soaked floor, placing him in the dead center of the western lookout deck.
There was no room to move or hide.
The door slammed shut behind him.
He turned his head to his left.
No Man's Land Page 29