“Yes please,” Tia responded, while Steel was busy checking out the exits and observation points from outside the building.
He didn’t like the situation one bit. They sat at a small square table in the middle of the room but against the left-hand wall. The room was quite roomy with the tables placed against both walls, leaving a sizable walkway down the centre. At the window were two tables that lay flat against the glass. Steel watched as a tall well-built man entered and sat at one of the window seats. He was dressed in beige colours. His sweat shirt and chinos seemed new and somehow out of keeping with his general demeanour. It looked to Steel as if he would have been more comfortable in a black suit, white shirt and sixties-style sunglasses.
Tia got up to leave, and Steel reached for her arm, grasping it tight.
“You can’t be serious about sitting there surely?”
She ripped her arm away and leaned forwards to whisper in his ear.
“Don’t worry, darling, I have some angels watching over me.” She gave him a friendly peck on the cheek.
Steel moved forwards to an empty seat next to the entrance to the restrooms. Here he had a better view. Tia approached the man and sat down. The investigator couldn’t make out what they were saying, but then he had other things on his mind.
The two large buildings to their front appeared to be hotels, each one around nine storeys tall, made of dull grey concrete, with small balconies and dark grey tiled roofs. Each was no more than a hundred feet away. Steel’s view switched from the buildings to Tia and the stranger. Then he saw it. Each block had an open window. It didn’t seem much to go on, but the curtains had been closed in both of the open windows, whereas all the other windows were closed, with open shades.
Steel didn’t like anything that looked out of place and those windows stood out like clown at a funeral. Now he understood what she meant by ‘she had angels watching’, but this scenario didn’t seem to make sense. The open windows were near the top of the building and not lower down. Normally a lookout would be in the centre, not so high up, but that was all depending on anything disrupting their view. The windows would be good for observation post, but why were they open?
At the table opposite Steel sat an elderly couple, cheerfully trying to decipher the menu. Steel noticed the man had a pair of 10x42 binoculars beside him on the table.
He walked across to them, saying,
“Hi there, so sorry to bother you, but do you think I could borrow your binoculars a second?” The couple looked at him blankly.
“What for?” the man asked. Steel gave a short laugh.
“Well I just need to check those buildings to make sure there are no snipers in there, you see.”
Their mouths fell open and the man passed Steel the plastic binoculars.
“Thanks very much,” he said. He sat down again and scoured the buildings, using the binoculars. Beyond the open windows he saw two men dressed like Mr Beige in the window. As he directed his gaze back to the first window he froze: Mr Beige had been replaced with a man in black tactical gear. Steel zoomed in the focus, thinking he had seen something in his hands. He had.
Steel rushed forwards and skidded flat on the floor, smashing into Tia’s table. She yelped in panic as he pulled them both to the ground. There was no sound from outside, apart from the noise of glass being smashed and people screaming, as high-powered rounds ripped through the restaurant.
“Who the hell are you?” the man in the beige suit asked.
Steel’s mouth was set in a scowl.
“Tell you what, let’s get out of here first then we can discuss it.”
Tia and the man nodded. Steel knew that they would have little chance getting to the group of survivors at the back of the restaurant without a diversion.
“I hope you have a plan?” Tia’s voice yelled over the noise of the bullets, as they chipped away at the building. Several aluminium trays lay on the ground, having fallen from the upturned tables. Steel looked over at the building to their front and saw the blazing sun creeping over the top of the dull dark grey tiles.
He grabbed two of the round metal trays and gave one to the man to his left, who he assumed was some kind of agent.
“Okay, use the trays to reflect the sunlight at the buildings. I’ll take this one,” Steel indicated which, by pointing at the building to their front with a nod, “and you take the other.” The agent nodded.
“Okay, on three. One, two...three!” They raised the trays up, reflecting a blinding light towards both buildings. They waited for a moment, then ran for the safety of the back of the restaurant. As angry 7.62 rounds ripped at the building, Steel, the agent and Tia made it to the twelve people at the back of the room. Steel looked around, confused.
“Why are you still here?” he asked them. “Go out of the back!” he insisted.
A tall thin waiter that he had seen earlier, shook his head and pointed at the red coloured back door. Steel nudged his way through the panicked group of people and listened at the door.
Outside, the voices of two men could be heard, complaining about being excluded from the action. Steel listened carefully, his left ear pressed fully against the door’s timber.
“Do you think she got out?” asked one of them. His tone was boyish, sounding young.
The other’s voice had the depth of an older man:
“Nah, if they didn’t come through here the others would have got ‘em.”
Steel stood there for a while trying to ascertain their distance from the door and their proximity to each other. Breaking away from the door, he looked round at the frightened faces and gave a grim smile.
“What did you hear?” asked one of the survivors, the middle-aged man’s wife clinging to his arm as he spoke.
“Well it appears there are two more outside this door.”
Someone gave a muffled shriek. Steel waved his arms to try to quieten them down.
“Look I promise, we will all get out of this. I just need everyone to be quiet and keep out of the way. The back door was down a small corridor a short distance from the back of the restaurant floor. Down the corridor was the office at the very end and a small storeroom opposite the back door that was in the middle of the short walkway. All of the survivors crammed themselves in to the office apart from Steel, who waited at the back door, his ear pressed against it, waiting for the right moment.
“This sucks, man,” grumbled the younger gunman.
“Look, we were told to stay here and make sure nobody leaves,” the older man told him.
The younger man marched around, the MP7 machine pistol clutched tightly in his grip, his bottom lip curled up like a three-year-old who had been told he couldn’t have more candy.
“Screw this,” said the young one. “I am going in.”
The older man, who was in his late thirties, sat on a crate, his machine pistol rested next to him as he blew smoke rings, holding a thick cigar.
“Kid, sit your ass down and wait. We were told to stay put so guess what? We stay put.”
The kid kicked a stone and watched it disappear down towards the building behind. Their voices echoed in the enclosed space of the block structure, which made it difficult for Steel to make a definite assessment.
He reasoned that the trapped people could go up and try to get out through the roof. But if their enemies had planned for people exiting from the back door, they’d also know about the roof. Their only chance was to get the guards outside and take it from there.
Ah screw this, and screw you. I am going in, Steel thought to himself as he backed into the storage room and switched off the light. The young man edged into the corridor, his weapon gasped tightly in both hands. The machine gun fire had ceased but the silence was broken by the police sirens in the distance. The dining room at the end of the corridor was cast in shadows. He edged forwards, and the tangy metallic smell of blood filled his nostrils. Before him, bodies shredded by the gunfire lay motionless on the tiled floor, covered in glass and brick f
ragments. Dust particles hung in the streams of sunlight that illuminated the dead.
“I would certainly hate to have to clean this up.”
The boy swung round, startled by the voice behind him. All he could see was a man coming from the shadows before the darkness took him.
The older man sat happily on his crate outside. He smiled calmly as he blew some more smoke rings. He was happy because there was no gunfire from the kid, which meant that everyone was already dead. The absence of heavy gunfire meant he hadn’t ventured too far forwards and the gunmen had taken him out. He hummed a tune to himself as he waited. He looked up, hearing a loud crash from inside.
Carefully he got down and moved forwards. Reaching for the handle he slowly opened the door, the weapon raised, and its extending stock pulled fully out, and now nestled deep into his shoulder. He edged round the corner, moving the top half of his torso first, the weapon fixed and ready to fire. The green beam of its laser sight cut through the haze of floating dust. The silence was deafening, and he began to breathe heavily, just to give his ears something to work on before he went mad.
He knelt as he entered the dining room. Using the red dot scope, he scanned the room for life, for anything. He froze as he saw the shadowy figure sitting in a chair at a table. The sun had not yet reached that part of the room and so the figure was immersed in shadow. The older man crept forwards keeping low, moving slow and steady. He stopped, shouting, “Steve, is that you?” He looked round to make sure he was alone before moving forward again. He continued creeping until he was at the man’s back, then he slowly stood up.
He had recognized his partner’s back, and slapped him on the back of the head.
“Will you stop fucking around!” he yelled. The boy slumped forwards then fell off the chair.
The man looked down in horror as he saw a mass of red around the boy’s neck. He screamed like a girl and backed off slightly but something was behind him. He turned to find a man all in black just standing there.
“Morning.” Steel grabbed the man’s machine pistol as tried to raise it.
“Now, now, play nicely. Okay, who sent you?”
The gunman backed off towards the front door. Steel raised a hand to stop him.
“Hey, buddy, you may want to stop there and come back before.....”
Gunfire ripped through the building as the over-watch acquired a target. They didn’t care who it was. To them it was simple: “Anyone in that building gets it.”
John Steel dived for cover as the 7.62 rounds cut through the man, spraying the air with body parts and red body fluids. He rolled towards the back door and the office. As he knocked three times, the door was suddenly unlocked and the agent stood peering through the small slit between the doorframe and the door.
“Is it safe?” asked the beige-clad agent.
Steel looked down at the dining room.
“Not if you’re one of them, no.”
As a group, they moved quietly across the courtyard to the building across the road. Steel had given the boy’s MP7 machine pistol to the agent and the other weapon to Tia.
“Okay, you guys, get these people out of here,” John Steel instructed.
Tia and the agent looked confused.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
Steel just ginned like a schoolboy and ran towards the other buildings.
“Who the hell was that?” asked the agent, as he watched Steel disappear into one of the buildings.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” she said with a smile, then she shook her head in disbelief before they set to work, getting the remainder of the people to safety.
Steel chose to take the nearest building first. This was in a larger block with red-tiled roofs and white walls. Whereas the restaurants block had a flat roof, this one was more traditional, with a peaked roof and therefore more difficult to manoeuvre around. Steel got inside the hotel unhindered. Guests were running out screaming, giving him perfect cover to guard against anyone watching. While in the restaurant he had assessed the floor and approximate room location he was aiming for, so that was the easy part. Getting past the heavily armed guy was the problem.
He reached the floor and the hallway outside the shooter’s room. He stopped and listened for any noise to give a location of the enemy. Silence hung in the hallway like an unwanted enemy. He froze just as he was just about to put the sole of his shoe flat on the ground. Drawing his leg back, he knelt down in front of a room’s door. The floor was littered with broken pieces of light bulb. Steel smiled to himself, thinking, sneaky bastards. His thoughts were cut short as the door suddenly opened and a large man dressed in black tactical gear stood in the doorway. Steel realised that he had seen this uniform before.
The brute was astonished to see Steel kneeling there. Quickly he rushed for him, huge hands ready to grab him. Steel reached down and grasped the small rug in front of him. Then, with as much force as he could, he tossed the broken glass gathered on its surface into the man’s face. He screamed and backed off into the room, his hands grasping his bleeding cheeks. Steel rushed forwards and leapt, kicking him full in the chest with both feet. The hulk stumbled backwards under the impact, slamming against the back wall.
The killer shook off the attack and regained his footing. He reached down and pulled a blackened blade from a sheath next to his combat boot.
“Don’t know who you are, friend,” he snapped, “
or what you were doing with the woman, but you have upset the mission and for that I got ta get ya.” His accent was a strange mixture of dialects, as if he had spent a lot of time in different countries, and he was tall—around six foot six. His short blond hair had been recently cut close to the skull, leaving a bare covering on top. Despite the concealing clothing, Steel could tell that he was muscular and probably worked out. Judging by the silenced M249 Minimi heavy machine gun that lay perched on its bi-pod, he would need to.
“I don’t suppose we could talk about this?” John Steel asked.
He soon got his answer, as the bulk ran at him like a quarterback. Steel rolled to the other side of the room and crouched, ready for the next attack.
“I guess not then.” The brute smiled a hungry smile. Small scratches marked his face where the glass shards had made contact. Steel looked towards the room’s corner and saw the other agent—his chest was rising, so at least that meant he was alive. Steel realised it was important he remained so, so that when the police arrived they would have someone to arrest for this operation.
Down below he heard the shrieks of tyres and loud screams, as orders were being shouted. The investigator knew he didn’t have much time. He needed answers, but this guy wasn’t going to talk easily. He also had to get the other agent out.
The hulk tossed his blade from one hand to the other, grinning as he pictured gutting this interfering man before the cops came. He lunged at Steel, who rolled into the other agent; a loud grown came from the man, who was semi-conscious.
“Get up, you idiot!” Steel yelled, shaking the man with one hand as he kept a good watch on the brute.
“What the hell’s going on?” the agent demanded, beginning to stir. He was semi-conscious, but Steel needed him wide awake.
“If you can get your ass out of here, go and help your mate over the road before it really goes south,” Steel said, having neither the time nor the inclination to explain, he just wanted answers from the hulking form.
Steel ran at the bulky man. As he did, his adversary swung his blade arm. Steel hit the floor, slid on the wooden boards, then, as he passed between his legs, grabbed the man’s ankles and pulled. As the big man hit the floor, the agent ran, bouncing off the door frame and walls as he went.
Good, Steel thought. He’s out.
Steel knew he had no chance having a hand-to-hand fight with this man. But he needed to know what the hell was going on. The large blond mercenary stood up, his massive barrel chest heaved as he sucked in oxygen. His eyes were red and f
ull of hatred: he wanted blood, more specifically he wanted Steel’s blood. The other man stood next to a dresser. On its surface was a small flat-screen television, some magazines in front of a mirror that was attached by a flimsy brass arm. Steel gabbed one of the magazines and rolled it up tightly with both hands. Now he had a weapon.
The man lunged at Steel, his blade describing a deadly figure eight, aiming to catch his enemy in his torso. Steel sidestepped and pivoted on his heels, using his momentum as he landed a hit into the back of the man’s head just where spine meets skull. The man gave a groan of discomfort as the momentum of his lunge carried him forwards.
Steel spun and crouched, ready for the next attack. The brute turned and growled at him, then he spun the blade on his palm and gripped the para-cord-bound hilt tightly until his knuckles turned white.
More sirens blared outside. Help will be here soon, Steel thought to himself. He knew he had to end this one way or the other.
“What’s with the woman?” he demanded.
“Who wants her dead?” The other man just smiled.
“If you can beat me, I’ll tell you.”
Steel shrugged as though there was a choice. Then he moved quickly, so quickly that he seemed like a blur to the massive mercenary. Steel barrel-rolled and caught the man in the back of the knee, then in the groin. As he came down, Steel rolled to the side, just in time to avoid the blade, which was embedded into the floor where his head had been.
The baton Steel had made with the magazine impacted onto the man’s wrist, and a loud crack rang out—the sound of the bone being shattered under the powerful strike. He stood up screaming, his shattered wrist held up limply. Steel spun round and, using two fingers in a claw-like motion, buried them into the fleshy area above his collarbone and then pressed down.
“No more!” gargled the broken mercenary.
Steel stepped back and let the man stand, using the back wall next to the double windows as support.
“Okay, what the hell is going on here?” Steel shouted. He was tired, tired of not knowing and now he was determined to get some answers.
Operation:UNITY (John Steel series Book 2) Page 14