Executed (Extracted Trilogy Book 2)

by RR Haywood

  ‘Move,’ Safa says, forcing the others back against the walls to let her squeeze past.

  ‘We should just surrender now,’ Roland begs. ‘Ben, tell them . . . see sense . . .’

  ‘They’ll kill Bertie,’ Ria says, staring at her father, with disgust and shock etched on her face.

  ‘They might not . . .’ Roland says weakly. ‘Why don’t one of you run back and get Malcolm or Konrad to change the coordinates to here?’ he suggests with a flash of brilliance only a true coward could summon at such a time.

  ‘Dead,’ Miri says bluntly.

  ‘What?’ Susan gasps. ‘You brought Malc and Kon back?’

  ‘You did what?’ Ria asks, the disgust growing by the second.

  ‘I needed their help,’ Roland sputters.

  ‘You said you did it on your own,’ Ria says. ‘You said it was just you doing everything . . . We could have seen them.’

  ‘I’ll go and talk to them,’ Susan says, trying to draw composure, despite the abject fear gripping her insides. She holds Ria and Bertie close. Nodding to herself. ‘I’ll go down, okay? I’ll . . . Let me talk to them . . .’

  ‘Mum, no,’ Ria says, the tears falling fast down her cheeks. ‘They want to take Bertie.’

  ‘Is that true?’ Susan asks, looking round to everyone apart from her husband, who cowers back in his own state of panic.

  ‘It is,’ Ben says. ‘They’ll probably kill him if they can’t take him.’

  ‘I see,’ Susan says softly. ‘Then I can buy you time to get him away,’ she adds, summoning pride and dignity back into her voice. ‘I will go down and . . .’

  Miri considers the option, but knows exactly what will happen. They’ll grab the mother and inflict instant torture to draw Bertie out. What son could ever stand by and listen to his mother screaming in pain? Sacrificing one to save many is a valid option, but right now it will not work. This is the level of the game. The other side have gunships. Enough said.

  ‘No, we go now . . . We run for the top floor . . . Nobody stops . . . Understood? Bertie must get through . . .’ Miri says.

  ‘Agent down . . .’

  ‘Fall back, fall back . . .’

  ‘DO NOT FALL BACK . . . Bravo, get down and lead them through . . .’ Alpha orders, seeing the chaos in the lobby.

  ‘Be happy to oblige,’ Bravo mutters. ‘Anyone with a flash-bang can throw it in that room now,’ he says, pointing at the door of the drawing room as he runs down the stairs.

  Bodies lie dead and injured. Blood everywhere. Bullet casings shining on the floor. The pressure grows. The need to secure the target, while very aware of the satellite feed overhead and Mother listening into their comms. How can over thirty operatives fail to secure a handful?

  ‘They’re scared to return fire.’ Charlie voices his own thoughts.

  Alpha doesn’t reply. The quandary is clear. Shooting back means a dead target, but then he also heard a woman shouting the name Harry. That must be Safa. If Safa and Harry are in this house with Roland and the inventor, then it means the device is active. The portal is open right now. He cannot let them get through it.

  ‘THIS IS ALPHA . . . SHOOT TO KILL . . . MAXIMUM AGGRESSION . . . MOTHER, IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, DEPLOY THE SOLDIERS TO THE GROUND FLOOR . . .’

  ‘About bloody time,’ Mother’s icy voice quips. ‘Soldiers to you, Alpha.’

  Flash-bangs sail through the door. Tens of them flying together on orders from Bravo. The figures drop, turn and cover their heads as the grenades detonate in a deafening cacophony of explosions that seemingly boom together in one sustained, thunderous clap. The house shakes from the pressure waves sent out. The windows in the drawing room blow out. The air charges, becoming thick and hot with the stench of chemicals and black smoke billowing out into the lobby.

  ‘IN IN IN,’ Bravo roars, his strong, cultured, private-school tones so loud and deep. He goes first, his submachine gun raised and ready as his laser sight cuts through the smoke. Flames lick at the sofas and armchairs. The once glorious chandelier now smashed to bits on the floor. The walls blackened and the door Ria led them through hanging open. Bravo fires at it. Emptying his magazine as he marches forward. More guns join in as the Ones and Twos left in the lobby rush after him. The rounds slam into the wall and door. The wooden frame shreds apart, with splinters flying off. Voices from outside. Boots running that crunch over the gravel laid to the front of the house as the soldiers charge at the front door and burst through to a scene of carnage.

  Bravo drops to a knee, ignoring the smouldering bodies scattered about the floor. A change of magazine and he rises to go forward, but stays low to hook his arm through the door, firing the submachine gun one-handed. The second he fires, the pistol rounds slam into the wall behind his hand. He drops lower, squeezing the trigger before scooting back to change again. As he scrabbles away, he glances up along the wall, tracking the rise of the stairs to where he thinks they level out.

  ‘STAIRWELL TOWARDS YOU . . .’ Bravo roars into the radio, aiming to fire into the top of the wall. The rest follow suit. Submachine guns spraying fire to shred the wall and ceiling apart, with bricks, plaster and wood flying everywhere. ‘FIRE INTO THAT WALL,’ Bravo orders the first soldiers running in. They drop to their knees with assault rifles braced into shoulders to strafe along where the wall meets the ceiling.

  Harry runs with his arm covering his face. Noise everywhere. Rounds slamming just inches away. The submachine-gun rounds ricochet and lose all momentum from hitting hard bricks. The bigger rounds in the assault rifle get through. Embedding in the walls and gouging splinters through the floorboards. Debris grazes his shoulder and arms. Splinters cut across his face. He drops low, pinned in place from the barrage of fire.

  Miri checks her stopwatch. ‘Five minutes, six seconds, five minutes, six seconds,’ she mutters to remember. Lodging the numbers in her head.

  ‘WE’VE GOT THEM PINNED,’ Bravo shouts into his radio. The ruined carpet now thick with shell casings.

  Miri blinks and looks down past the heads to Harry lying flat. Her breath held. Waiting. Listening.

  ‘GO NOW, GO NOW,’ Harry roars. The big man knows they are pinned. He rolls on his back to change the magazine in his pistol. He’ll charge down and out. He’ll give them something to aim at. The boy has to get away.

  ‘HOLD’ Miri shouts, raising a hand and seeing the look of intent on Harry’s face.

  Bravo grins. He’s got them held in place. They can’t come down. They’ll either die there or give up. He turns towards the door with his hand lifting to the radio mic to transmit the situation and suggest they look for the exit point from that corridor. As he does so, he hears the instantly recognisable thud of a heavy machine gun. The years of experience make him drop instantly. Sudden sustained firing coming into the room. Rounds whizzing over him, slamming into walls, furniture and people. The kill rate is staggering. Blood flies everywhere. Soldiers and operatives screaming out. Bravo snakes towards the hallway, screaming into his radio that someone outside is firing in.

  In the corridor, Miri holds her hand out, indicating for everyone to hold. All eyes on her. The sound of the heavy machine gun comes clear over everything else. Her hand drops. ‘Now,’ she says, looking at Safa.

  Echo staggers from the door ramming into his back. The five agents turn as one to see a face they all know. A face made famous from a time she stood on duty outside Downing Street when bored photographers became captivated by her beauty and snapped away to plaster her image in every newspaper and website, and those same pictures that were released again when that same woman died saving the Prime Minister. They all recognise Safa Patel, but they all know Safa Patel has been dead for over forty years. That split-second surprise that gives Safa the edge to press the attack with a mask of pure aggression as she rushes into their midst with her hand moving round to aim and fire the pistol.

  A blur of motion as Delta’s hand shoots out to grip the barrel of the gun in Safa’s hands, preventing it risi
ng. Safa counters, twisting as she slams her hip into Delta, ridding his grip.

  Alpha comes next. His submachine gun let go so he can dart in from the side to grab her wrists. Safa pulls back enough to slip his grip. He comes with her, his hands cycling to gain purchase. She turns quickly, plucking the trigger as Alpha gets one hand under the pistol to throw the aim high and blow chunks out of the ceiling.

  A fist thrown by Echo comes from Safa’s side. She lets go of the pistol and rotates to block and slam the blade of her right hand into his throat. He saw it coming and moved away an inch to deflect the power, but still reels back, gagging from the impact.

  Another hand coming from the other side as Charlie joins the fray. Safa blocks, ducks, grips his arm and tries for the break at the elbow joint. Charlie counters the move and rotates his body to jerk his arm free. A foot comes at Safa’s knee joint. She lifts her leg to absorb the blow on her boot while slamming a fist into a black-clad face. Tango Two comes in from behind, still stunned that the woman fighting them is Safa Patel. Safa detects the motion and bends forward to back-kick as she throws a punch into the groin of Delta coming at her. Tango Two veers at the last second and tries to grab Safa’s ankle. Safa spin kicks over to rotate her body to face Tango Two and goes forward with hard punches raining out that batter Tango Two away.

  ‘UP HERE . . .’ Delta roars from the floor, his hands clutching his genitals from the hard punch given by Safa. Operatives and soldiers in the lobby, too afraid to run into the drawing room, snap heads up to the balcony above them and start running for the stairs.

  Safa ducks, spins and blocks the fists and feet coming at her, and for a couple of seconds she holds them at bay. Neither winning nor losing. Neither gaining nor giving ground. One against five. The speed she generates is stunning. The acute, intrinsic grasp of situational close-quarters combat is almost beautiful.

  Harry steams out and into the fight. The blink of an eye. He takes in the situation and knows he cannot fire for fear of hitting Safa. He slides the pistol into the holster and kidney punches Charlie, who sags from the power of the blow.

  Alpha turns, ducks, weaves and comes in fast to tangle Harry’s feet with a vicious leg sweep. Harry takes the impact on his shins without a flicker of reaction and goes fast to meet the body of Alpha. Huge hands grip the leader of the attackers and sends him smashing into the railing of the landing. Harry powers forward, intent on kicking the man over. Delta comes in with a nasty blow to Harry’s right ear that snaps his head over, buying time for Alpha to recover.

  Ben runs into the fray, slams Delta down to the ground and tries to stamp on his head. Delta rolls. Tango Two punches the back of Ben’s head and again feels that surprise at seeing the face of Ben Ryder as he staggers away.

  Alpha pushes off from the bannister to surge into Harry, aiming low with a rugby tackle that drives Harry back into Roland and Susan trying to squeeze past them, with Miri and Ria dragging Bertie towards the next door.

  Harry and Alpha go down in a heap, with Alpha on top slamming hard fists into Harry’s head. Alpha can fight. He is Alpha. He is the best at this. He will not lose. He punches hammer fists into Harry’s eyes, nose and mouth.

  Delta sees Safa facing off with Tango Two, and rushes her from behind. Lifting her off her feet and down the landing as Tango Two darts out of the way. Operatives charge up the main stairs. Ben tries to block a punch from Echo, but gets battered back from the blows coming too hard and too fast. He spent six months being thrown about by Harry and Safa, but his mind was gone. He’d do well against normal people, but these are not normal people. They are highly trained and highly experienced at this very thing. Ben runs backwards from the barrage of blows slamming into his skull. He should get angry, scared even, but his mind runs clear without a trace of panic as he stops going back and purposefully runs forward into the fists to take Echo down.

  Harry takes the punches. The fists slamming again and again. Alpha risks a look round. Echo is on Ben. Safa has been taken down by Delta, with Tango Two close by. More agents are running up the stairs. Bravo is coming with more up the hidden stairwell. He spots the targets trying to get through a door, and knows this day is won. Charlie is running at them, and there is no way they’ll get through him. One glance tells him none of the people with the targets have fighting ability.

  A second for him to look round. A second for the sense of victory to lodge in his mind. A second for Harry to change and become the thing that gave birth to the legend of Mad Harry Madden. A switch in his head that prompts a whole new state of mind. As Alpha looks down, he sees someone else staring up at him. Their eyes lock. Alpha sends the punch down. A hard one delivered with every ounce of strength that is summoned by the sudden knot of fear in his gut caused by the utterly crazed eyes staring back at him.

  That punch is caught in a huge hand that grips and twists. Instant pain in Alpha’s arm as it rotates the wrong way. A hand on Alpha’s throat. Mad Harry Madden rises up, lifting the lead agent with the strength of one arm alone. Alpha’s feet leave the floor. His right hand still gripped in Harry’s fist. His left hand scrabbling uselessly at the fingers round his neck that squeeze to cut the air and blood off. Bravo comes through the door. Seeing the mass brawl underway. Harry looks at Bravo. Bravo looks at Harry. Alpha looks at Harry, then at Bravo. Harry throws Alpha at Bravo.

  Susan sees the threat with that protective maternal instinct driving her every move. She sees the black-clad figure coming hard at them and runs to stop him. Charlie slams into her, driving her back into Roland, then sets to work battering the group senseless. Bertie tries to fight in defence of his parents, but is back-handed away. Susan and Ria keep lunging at Charlie, desperate to protect Bertie. Roland cowers, screaming in horror.

  Miri snatches a glance at her watch: six minutes two. She lurches to grab Bertie, heaving him up and into the wall as she covers him with her own body. Ria is thrown at them by Charlie. She crumples into a heap as the agent stalks forward to finish them off. Charlie goes in for the kill on Miri. His hands lifting as his mind forms the intent to snap her neck and then deal with the others. Miri looks up at him, and the last thing Charlie sees before the high-velocity round goes through his skull is the absolute lack of compassion in her eyes.

  Delta flinches at the round whizzing past his head and sees Charlie shot dead. Another round comes in, millimetres away and smashing a huge chunk of wall away behind him. He blinks, goes to duck and finds Safa’s hard boot ramming into his groin for the stupidity of losing focus.

  As Delta drops, Harry roars past to slam into the first few coming from the stairs. Huge hits are given by his big fists bunched and ready. Men sail over the balcony, to land with sickening crunches of bones breaking. Harry attacks anyone foolish enough to come near him. Booting operatives and soldiers back into those coming up the stairs, who cannot fire for fear of striking the agents behind Harry.

  One agent ducks, feints and rolls to come up behind Harry with a knife pulled from a belt. He surges in, the blade lifted and ready to sink in. The shot comes from outside, taking him off his feet and into the wall. The huge boom clear above the heli blades thundering overhead. Another shot comes. Another operative is taken off his feet. Harry rages. Battering everyone around him as soldiers and operatives are snatched away by the gunshots booming outside.

  ‘WHO IS THAT?’ Safa bellows, rolling away before jumping to her feet to run and join Harry.

  ‘TANGO TWO, WHERE ARE YOU?’ Mother’s voice clear on the radio, demanding her location.

  ‘Landing, middle floor.’ Alpha snatches a reply amidst the carnage.

  Tango Two blinks in the confusion at hearing her name. No time to think why. No time to think of anything. She looks back to see Bravo and Alpha trying to rise, and Ben rolling away from Echo before surging up to his feet and kicking the agent in the ribs so hard it sends Echo scooting across the floor. She sees Miri grabbing Bertie back to his feet and wrenching the door open. She sees Harry and now Safa dominating the group
still trying to breach the stairs. She sees Ben launch himself into Alpha and Bravo as they try and rise. His skill way below that of everyone else, but viciously violent nonetheless.

  Wild and chaotic. Frantic and frenzied. Bertie is the important one. She runs for the door, reaching it at the same time as Susan, who once again tries to gain time for Bertie to get away. Tango Two slams her bodily into the wall, reaches down, grabs an ankle and pulls up as she runs on.

  ‘BEN . . . DOOR . . . GO GO GO . . .’ Safa yells.

  Ben bursts away from Alpha and Bravo. A hand shoots out, grabbing his boot. He goes down hard, but scrabbles to keep going as Alpha and Bravo lunge after him. Harry spins, seeing Ben held, and starts running towards him.

  ‘BERTIE, NOT ME . . .’ Ben screams out.

  ‘WHERE IS TANGO TWO?’ Mother demands again. None of them can reply. None can free the seconds to press the radio button and speak.

  Harry falters, turning for the door as Delta takes him from the side through the doorway of the second flight of stairs. Safa screams out and runs to go after them. Roland pushes in, clambering over Harry and Delta fighting on the floor, his mind lost to panic and thinking only of escape. Ria grabs at Delta and heaves back with enough force to allow Harry to rise and surge up the stairs. Delta goes after him, heedless of the screaming woman grabbing him from behind.

  Ben pulls his leg free and runs for it, gaining the doorway a second before everyone else. Instant compression as they all surge in and up. Echo screams at operatives to follow him as he runs for the main stairwell.

  Eight

  Miri gains the top of the stairs with Bertie. The pains in her hips and back are immense. Her vision swims. She cannot take this kind of movement now. Her body is too battered and broken from the things she has done. She grits her teeth and ploughs on, with the sole focus of getting him through the portal to safety. She fires her gun as she runs, sending rounds back, heedless of who they hit. Tango Two drops flat as the bullets go whizzing overhead. Harry and Delta still scrapping in the confined space. Safa and Ria behind them. Ben behind them. Everyone else coming up the stairs.