Below Zero (Ryan Kidd Thriller series)

by Roger Hurn

  My adrenaline was pumping and I knew as soon as it wore off I’d feel sick to my stomach at what I’d been forced to do. But I’m not Mother Theresa. Nothing would ever make me sorry that it was the bloke with the MP5 who was dead and not Carly or me. And, if that makes me a bad person, then I can live with it.

  Chapter 21

  I swapped places with Carly and I drove the Land Rover away from the scene. She sat in the passenger seat shaking like someone whose nerves were beyond shredded.

  ‘Did you kill all those guys?’ Her voice sounded like it was coming from a million miles away.

  ‘I don’t know and I’m not about to go back and find out. There’s nothing we can do for them if they are and if they’re not then they’ll only do their damndest to try and kill us.’

  Carly just stared straight ahead through the windscreen but I don’t think she was looking at the landscape. I had no idea of what to say to her. These days people demand grief counselling if they break a fingernail, but I’m old school. I figure you suck it up and move on. Though even I was beginning to realise that you could only take so many psychological punches before it did serious damage to who you were as a person. I just hoped that for Carly the scars would heal, and I figured showing her a bit of gratitude would be a start.

  ‘Thanks, hun. I’d have been a goner if you hadn’t done what you did with the headlights.’

  She gave a tight little nod. ‘Yeah, well, you haven’t paid me this week’s wages yet.’ She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘Now just fucking drive.’ For some reason she hated looking vulnerable in front of me.

  We drove on across country in silence for a few minutes but then she asked me what would happen to the bodies and the wrecked car.

  ‘I guess Hammond and his boys will clean up the mess. I seriously doubt it’ll be the first time they’ve done it.’

  Carly frowned. ‘But won’t the Russian Mafia come poking around and asking him awkward questions?’

  She had a point. ‘Yeah, but we don’t know it was the Russian mob. They murdered Constantin but it’s unlikely they’d have any idea about us.’

  ‘So who do you reckon it is then?’

  I shook my head. ‘I dunno, but Dalrymple said MI5 was leaking like a sieve so I’m betting the guys who’ve been on our tail are from a rival intelligence agency – though your guess is as good as mine as to which one.’ I bit on my bottom lip before adding, ‘Only I don’t think it’s Mossad ‘cos if it was we’d be dead by now.’

  We finally made it to a proper road and I was just about to swing the Land Rover onto it when my phone rang. It was Greenstick. He demanded to know what was going on and why I hadn’t contacted him. I told him our cover was blown and that MI6 knew about the operation.

  ‘But that’s not the worst of it. Everywhere we go someone always seems to have the low down on where we are. I mean, how the hell did they know about the fishing boat and then that we were holed up in the hills in Desmond Hammond’s gaff?’

  There was a brief silence. Then he said, ‘Check the phone for a tracking device. Crispian gave me the phone to give to you. If he’s a traitor he’ll have planted one in it.’ Then he broke the connection.

  I opened up the phone and sure enough there was the bug. I took it out and smashed it with a rock. Then I called Greenstick back. ‘You were right. So what do we do now?’

  ‘I’ve checked where Hammond’s house is. It’s up in the Serrania de Rhonda. So make your way to Rhonda, it’s the nearest big town. Stay out of sight and wait for me there. I’m coming out to bring you home.’

  I started to argue but he cut me off.

  ‘Just do as you’re told, Ryan. You can’t go anywhere on the passports you’ve got. I’ll have new ones for you and I’ll be in Rhonda by late afternoon. Then we can work out how we’re going to expose Hunt.’

  It was all very well for him to say we should go to Rhonda, but I hadn’t got a clue where it was. And I was also still reeling from the revelation that Crispian had sold us out. OK, so he was as cold blooded as a reptile in a deep freeze, but I never had him down as a traitor. But then I didn’t really know the bloke or what made him tick. I thought he was a power junkie who loved his job but maybe he loved some cause more. And clever fanatics are the most dangerous kind. They let others draw the fire while they pull the strings from behind the scenes. I guess he saw me and Carly as the perfect patsies because who was going to shed tears over a couple of no accounts like us if we came to a sticky end a long way from home? He knew we’d be smart enough to find Constantin and so all his guys had to do was follow us and then step in. It was the perfect plan – but then we all know about the best laid plans of mice and men going astray. Maybe they didn’t teach Robbie Burns at the posh public school Crispian went to. I made a note to tell him his dad should ask for his money back.

  Chapter 22

  The Land Rover finally ran out of gas about two minutes after Greenstick’s call. We abandoned it on the rough ground at the side of the road and set out on foot just as the sun was coming up. We had no idea if we were going in the right direction but luckily a delivery truck that would have been new when Henry Ford was a boy came clanking along. We stuck out our thumbs and it stopped.

  The driver was friendly and spoke some English and offered us a lift to Rhonda as that’s where he was going. He thought we were on our way there for the Feria Goyescas, which was some kind of bullfighting festival they held there every year. Now I would rather eat my own eyeballs than watch blood sports and I guessed Carly felt the same, but we played along with him.

  He rattled on about how Rhonda was the birthplace of bullfighting and the ring in Rhonda was to bullfighting aficionados what Wembley Stadium was to all true football fans. This gave me the opportunity to switch the subject away from bullfighting to football and he and I were still debating why the Premiership is more exciting to watch than La Liga when we finally rolled into Rhonda.

  He dropped us off near the Puente Nuevo, the “new” bridge, in the centre of town. The bridge had amazing views out over the mountains but all Carly and I wanted was food, coffee and somewhere to sleep.

  Unbelievably, there was a MacDonald’s just near the bridge and Carly insisted on going in there. I was too cream-crackered to argue but while she was demolishing enough fried food to give a yak a heart attack I had an idea. I left her with her nose in the trough and went out and bought a phone card. I found a pay phone and made a call to a guy called Robin Sheerwood. Rob used to be my MI5 liaison officer when I was in the DPG. We share a passion for Arsenal and we’d bonded on a few away trips watching the gunners. A man may love his wife and his country but there’s no greater love than that between a man and his team. Rob was a man I could trust.

  Anyway, I made a call to his personal mobile. I got his voicemail which was bloody typical, but I left a message asking him to call me back asap with the answers to two questions. The questions were simple enough but I had a feeling that, even if Rob could get them, the answers were going to be harder than Oxford Uni’s entrance exam.

  Chapter 23

  Rhonda was a quaint town which, because of the Festival, was alive with people in Spanish National costumes. There were guys on horseback who could’ve played Zorro without rehearsal, and carriages clattering through the streets carrying women dolled up to the nines in the most stunning outfits. Guitarists seemed to be loitering with intent on every corner and crowds of people kept breaking out into spontaneous bouts of flamenco dancing.

  If I’d been a tourist I would have loved it. I wasn’t a tourist. I was a guy who hadn’t slept in days and who’d been shot at, threatened and betrayed. I was about as open to embracing the local culture as I was to having a cuddle with a psychotic gorilla. And one look at my face would have had the gorilla backing off big time.

  We wandered around for hours until, in sheer desperation, we went into a house in the heart of the old town. It was a sort of museum and it was dedicated to some missionary priest or other,
but it had a garden overlooking the mountains. The place was deserted and that suited us just fine.

  We sat down side-by-side on a blue and white ceramic bench. It was about as comfortable as stinging nettle underpants but suddenly I felt Carly’s head on my shoulder. Sadly, it wasn’t the breakthrough in our relationship I’d been hoping for – she was fast asleep. Only I could bring a beautiful woman to a secluded garden with breathtakingly romantic views and have her conk out on me within thirty seconds. Still, I thought I’d enjoy the moment but, what with the warm sunshine coupled with my total exhaustion, I was soon snoring gently alongside her.

  We slept until the ring tone of a phone woke me. I hoped it was Rob calling me back but it wasn’t. It was Greenstick. He was in Rhonda and wanted to know where we were.

  My mouth tasted like something slimy from the sewers had crawled into it and died there. My head was thumping and I couldn’t for the life of me remember the name of the museum.

  ‘It’s the Casa de John Bosco,’ muttered Carly. ‘And tell him to hurry up and get here. I just wanna hand over this bloody memory stick and go home.’

  For once Carly and I were in complete agreement.

  By the time Greenstick arrived, we’d both freshened up in the museum’s washroom. Though judging by the looks he gave us, Carly had done a far better job of scrubbing up than I had.

  ‘Right. Listen up. We don’t have much time. There’s a BA flight out of Malaga at 9.15. It’s gonna be tight but we can make it if you guys haul ass.’

  ‘Yeah, we’ve been doing nothing but haul arse since we arrived,’ I said. ‘And, quite frankly, we’ve had it up to here with people taking pot shots at our backsides.’

  Greenstick smiled but only with his teeth. ‘That’s what I’m saying, buddy. You guys have been riding your luck and we need to get you home safe before it runs out.’

  ‘Amen to that,’ I said. ‘But what about Crispian? How did you square your sudden dash out here with him? Surely he was mega suspicious?’

  Greenstick shrugged. ‘I told the guy you were holed up in Seville and that I was airlifting you out of there.’

  ‘Hold up,’ said Carly. ‘Like duh! Won’t he just check on your flight tickets?’

  Greenstick nodded. ‘Yeah, of course he will. Which is why I booked myself on a return flight from Gatwick to San Pablo airport through Box 500’s system. But I also booked the Malaga flights on my own dime.’ He grinned at her. ‘So don’t worry, sweet stuff, I got all the bases covered. When Crispian checks up on me he’ll send a reception committee to Seville not to Malaga.’

  He winked at Carly and I couldn’t help feeling that if Greenstick was made of chocolate he’d lick himself to death.

  Anyway, he handed us our new passports and the airline tickets, then held out his hand expectantly. ‘OK, where’s the memory stick?’

  Carly had it in her bag. While she was fumbling around inside it my mobile went off. It was Rob with the answers to my questions. They weren’t as hard as I’d been expecting but they certainly made life difficult.

  Chapter 24

  My two simple questions had been: ‘What does Crispian think has been happening to Carly and me? And did he give Greenstick a mobile for us to use?’ Rob’s answers were pretty succinct.

  ‘Crispian thinks that you’re having a high old time in Marbs banging the lovely Carly at the taxpayers’ expense instead of tracking down some renegade scientist bloke.’ He paused but I didn’t say a word. Rob sniggered. ‘I notice you’re not denying it.’ I still said nothing so Rob carried on. ‘And he said what bloody phone are you on about? He leaves all the housekeeping stuff to Greenstick – whose real name is Hatch Beauchamp, by the way.’ I could hear Rob laugh down the phone. ‘And with a moniker like that it’s no surprise he prefers calling himself Greenstick!’

  I wasn’t laughing. I was looking at Greenstick AKA Hatch Beauchamp as Carly drove him to distraction with her inability to find the USB. Women’s bags are like the Tardis. They are way bigger inside than they look on the outside. I’ve never met a woman who didn’t have more stuff in her bag than can be explained by the laws of physics. And Carly’s was no exception.

  She glanced up apologetically at Greenstick. ‘Sorry. It’s definitely in here somewhere.’

  He was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet with impatience and so intent on watching her that he didn’t notice me pick up a small rock from the garden. The first he knew about it was when I cracked him on the head with it. His knees buckled and he hit the deck out cold.

  Carly stared at me open mouthed. ‘What the…’

  I grabbed her hand. ‘We’re out of here, kid.’

  I’ll give Carly her due. Most girls would have had the screaming ab-dabs if they’d just watched their boss brain someone with a lump of granite, but she nodded and legged it out of there with me.

  Chapter 25

  When we stepped outside into the brilliant sunlight I glanced up and down the street trying to spot any of Greenstick’s chums. But unless they were wearing glittery dresses or matador trousers and playing castanets in a highly extravagant way then I figured it was a safe bet that he’d come on his own. It didn’t mean that his back up team wasn’t already hurtling towards us – only that it hadn’t arrived yet.

  ‘OK, Ry, what the hell’s going on?’

  ‘Greenstick’s been selling us down the river. I don’t know if he’s here on his tod or if he’s got a bunch of heavies with him but, whichever it is, we need to get out of here fast.’

  As I told her this I speed-dialled Rob. Thankfully, he answered straight away.

  ‘Listen to me, Rob. We’re in the shit here. Tell Crispian that Greenstick has sold us out to the opposition and Stere is dead but he’s not to get his knickers in a twist because we’ve got the memory stick he’s been creaming his jeans for.’

  ‘That’s reassuring.’ Crispian’s cultured tones echoed in my ear. He’d obviously taken the phone from Rob. ‘But, frankly, I won’t cream anything until I have the stick safely under lock and key in my office. And, forgive me for my pessimism, but that is by no means a certain outcome. I have no idea if Greenstick has anyone left on the ground to assist him, but he certainly won’t be giving up without a fight. You should have finished him off while you had the chance, Ryan.’

  If I’d forgotten why I despised Crispian Hunt, he’d just given me a sharp reminder. He was the ultimate pragmatist and he’d think nothing of terminating Carly and me with extreme prejudice if it suited his book. In this case it didn’t as he still needed us, so I guessed we could probably still trust him. But I knew that situation could change in the wink of an eye. Then he continued and I swear I could hear him blink.

  ‘Here’s what you do. Find an internet café and email the information on the stick to me.’ He rattled off an internet address. I didn’t bother to memorise it. I had no intention of doing what he said. As long as we held onto the contents of the memory stick, Crispian had a vested interest in our well-being. It was our only ace and I was clinging on to it tighter than a miser to a ten pound note.

  ‘Sorry, Crispian, old son, but no can do. I don’t know if your butler’s told you but Internet cafes are like the dodo, they don’t exist anymore. But don’t you worry. Carly and I have got a Plan B to bring the stick home to you.’ Then before he could say anything I broke the connection and switched off the phone.

  I dumped the one Greenstick had given us in a waste bin. Obviously, I was deafened by the sound of horses’ hooves galloping away down the road as I slammed the stable door shut, but at least the gesture gave me a feeling that I was wresting back control of the situation. I’m a man who holds his illusions close and all I ask of others is that they let me. Sadly, they almost never do.

  Chapter 26

  ‘So what is Plan B, Ry? And is Crispian gonna help us with it or what?’

  I shook my head. ‘Crispian Hunt is as much use as tits on a fish as far as we’re concerned,’ I said. ‘All he wants is for us to
email him the info ‘cos I don’t think he rates our chances of getting back to London, and no way is he going to ask MI6 for help. He’d be a laughing stock in the intelligence community if he did and for him that’d be a far worse outcome than us modelling bullet holes in a Spanish mortuary.’

  Carly pursed her lips. ‘If we do make it back, Crispian Hunt will be modelling his balls on his head, trust me.’

  ‘I believe you, kid, but first you’d have to find them and that may be a tall order.’

  She gave me the ghost of a grin. ‘Yeah, maybe. Anyway, you were gonna tell me about Plan B remember?’

  ‘Yep. Well, don’t get too excited. It’s what we were going to do today anyway if Des Hammond’s goons hadn’t butted in. Only now we’ll take a train to Granada instead of the bus.’

  Carly looked at me as if I’d just farted loudly in public. ‘Huh? Why don’t we just take a taxi?’

  ‘You’ve seen the state of the bloody roads up in these mountains. God knows how long it would take by taxi. No, the train’ll be the quickest way to get there.’

  ‘And you know where the train station is, do you?’

  It seemed to me that, if Carly had a fault, it was her obsession with details. I sighed and said, ‘No, but I know a man who does. Come on.’

  We hurried back down to the square by the bridge and went to the Tourist Information office. They confirmed my suspicions that the train to Granada would be a heck of a sight quicker and way less expensive than taking a taxi. They also gave us directions to the station and a timetable for the trains. We were in luck. The next train was leaving in twenty minutes.

  We stepped back out into the square and Carly spotted Greenstick coming over the bridge. He had a face like a bucket of smashed crabs and his mouth twisted in fury when he saw us. Somehow I knew he was packing a gun and that he wouldn’t hesitate to use it – even in an area filled with civilians.