Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of the armed figure standing near the twisted back doors. Smart followed her gaze, and when he saw the Chinese features his shoulders sagged.
* * *
Kyle Ackerman had watched the four people climb down from the truck and pile into the van, and was surprised to see a woman amongst their number. Regardless, he knew these had to be the people Owen and Harvey were looking for, and he reached for his phone, stabbing the preset number. The van took off across the median, heading back the way it had come, and by the time he got to the Jeep he saw the distinctive Evo pass by in pursuit.
It must have been a team effort, with the Mitsubishi setting the trap and the van picking up the pieces.
He climbed into his own vehicle and backed out onto the tarmac, then crossed over into the southbound lane. He was about to turn the headlights on, then thought better of it. He could see the tail lights of the vehicles ahead and there was no point announcing his presence, especially with so little traffic on the road.
He followed for three or four miles, constantly hitting the redial button on his mobile but getting no further than the electronic voice asking him to leave a message. He’d done so once, and that was enough.
Without warning, the van veered into the right-hand lane before correcting itself, and Ackerman knew something was amiss. He toyed with the idea of pulling them over, but he had no idea if they were armed beyond the teenager’s knife, and he was outnumbered at least five to one if he included the two in the Mitsubishi.
He was trying the mobile for the umpteenth time when the van skewed to the side once more and bounced onto the grass. He watched it nosedive before bouncing onto its side and rolling half a dozen times.
Ackerman pulled up against the side of the road as the van settled on its side. His first instinct was to get out and go to their aid, but then he remembered the Evo. It had stopped in the inside lane and he saw one of the occupants get out, drawing a weapon and approaching the wreckage.
He pulled out the Glock but knew it would be useless at this distance, and going on foot was not an option as there was no cover to hide behind if it turned into a gunfight. He was wondering how close he could get in the Jeep before they heard him when an idea struck. It was a downhill run to the van, so he put his vehicle in first and gently popped the clutch. It rolled forwards, and once he’d built up enough momentum he selected neutral and turned the engine off, coasting towards the Evo. At the last moment he tugged the wheel to the right until he was on a collision course with the van.
The driver of the Mitsubishi saw him and leaned out of the window, shouting a warning to his accomplice. The gunman heard the shout but didn’t understand the message, and he shouted back over his shoulder for the driver to repeat it while keeping his eyes on the gweilo.
It was the right thing to do if he didn’t want to get jumped from the front, but it still cost him his life.
At the last moment he caught sight of the Jeep barrelling towards him, but there was little time to react. Instinctively he turned and aimed the gun at the windshield, getting off a single, wayward round that flew harmlessly high. Ackerman ploughed into him at just short of thirty miles an hour and the man disappeared beneath the front of the wheels, his body mangled as the combination of ground and undercarriage chewed him up and spat him out the back.
Kyle applied the handbrake and jumped out. He fired off three quick shots at the Mitsubishi and the driver got the message, hitting the gas and speeding off into the night.
With the immediate area clear, he checked inside the van, gun up and ready for any surprises.
There were none, apart from the amount of carnage. Three bodies were quite clearly dead, and one wasn’t looking too clever. The three walking wounded regarded him dolefully, as if at the end of their tether.
“You guys okay?” Kyle said, focusing on the lady.
Smart was relieved to hear an English voice, but the questions began piling up in his head. What was he doing here? How did he know they would be in the van? Who was he working for?
“Depends who’s asking,” he said.
“I work for the government,” Kyle told him. He lowered the gun and looked at Gray. “How’s he doing?”
“He’s out cold and his arm needs attention.”
Kyle disappeared and returned moments later, carrying a first aid kit. He began to open it but Sonny stopped him.
“We need to get out of here,” he said. “Let’s load him into your car and get as far away from here as possible.”
Smart liked the plan, and they carefully carried Gray to the Jeep before Ackerman could have his say. Sonny climbed in the back seat and pulled Tom in, then Smart joined him and they rested their friend on their laps.
Vick got in the front passenger seat and fastened her seat belt.
“I’m Kyle,” Ackerman said, and the others introduced themselves.
“Who’s your friend?”
“That’s Tom,” Vick said.
“It’s Sam,” Sonny corrected her.
Ackerman looked in the mirror quizzically.
“It’s complicated,” Smart told him as he extracted a bandage from the first aid box and began tending to the wound on Gray’s arm.
Ackerman shrugged. Their names didn’t concern him, but the lack of contact with Owen and Harvey did. If he’d found the people they were looking for, and the bad guys were dead, what in God’s name had happened to them?
Gray gave a moan and opened his eyes tentatively.
“How’re you feeling?” Sonny asked.
“Like I was run over by a train,” Gray said, trying to focus. “Where are we?”
“We’re heading towards...hey, Kyle, where exactly are we going?”
“I’m going to drop you off at the hospital, then I have to go and help my friends. They went after the other truck and I think they’re in trouble. They’re not answering the phone.”
“Who is this guy?” Gray asked, his head still groggy.
Sonny filled him in on what had happened while he was out cold, and asked Kyle to give them the bigger picture.
“Dennis Owen asked me to provide backup for his operation. He and Andrew had intelligence that you four would be on the cargo ship and that someone had been sent to intercept and kill you. They didn’t know which container you were in, so they followed the largest one and I was asked to follow the truck you were in.”
“Who’s Dennis Owen?”
Ackerman explained that Owen was his boss at the Trade and Investment department, and what their real role entailed.
“What’s Andrew’s story?” Sonny asked.
“He’s based in England,” Kyle said. “Five would be my guess.”
Gray was still trying to clear his head, but the mention of MI5 suddenly brought clarity. He sat bolt upright.
“Are you talking about Andrew Harvey?” He asked.
“That’s right,” Ackerman told him. “You know him?”
Gray didn’t answer. He was too busy trying to digest the news. Andrew Harvey, in Durban? Someone sent to kill them? A Chinese kill team?
He needed answers, and only one man could provide them. “Forget the hospital, we need to find Andrew.”
“Are you sure?” Ackerman asked. “That wound looks pretty nasty.”
“I’ll live,” Gray said. “Where is Andrew now?”
“They were following the other container to the depot. I expect they’ll be there or thereabouts.”
“Then that’s where we go.”
* * *
After double-checking every corpse, Ben Palmer knew he’d followed the wrong container. He whipped out his camera and thumbed through the images he’d taken on his last visit until he found the itinerary for the other truck. It had been due to leave the port an hour after the first, which meant it would be en route right about now.
Catching it up shouldn’t be a problem, but having been surprised by the two men who’d jumped him, he was beginning to have doubts
about the whole mission.
Another glance at the itinerary told him the other container was going to the airport, and if it boarded a plane he could lose it forever. Carl Gordon might be able to get into the airport servers and follow the trail, but he would only pursue that once he’d finished with his interrogations.
Palmer moved to the container doors, stepping over the pregnant woman who once again cried for his help. He ignored her pleas, climbing down and closing the container door. His first stop was the office, where he kicked in the door and found the CCTV equipment. He extracted the VHS tape from the machine and took it back to the van, where he found Owen unconscious.
He realised the gas hadn’t fully dispersed, which meant using the van was out of the question. He knew his attackers must have come in their own vehicle, but with both out cold, he could hardly ask them where it was.
Palmer went over to where Littlefield was lying next to the unconscious man. Sean was fading fast, the blood still seeping from his wounds despite the tourniquet. There wasn’t a lot Palmer could do for him, but he didn’t say as much.
“I’m going to find their car and get you to a hospital,” he lied. He would take Littlefield from the scene, but only so the connection between the two men couldn’t be established. If Sean’s body was found, one of the first things they do was a forensic sweep of his farm, a building riddled with Palmer’s fingerprints. Although he religiously wore surgical gloves on every mission, he hadn’t used them during his recent visit.
He moved over to the motionless figure and slapped him on the face.
Nothing.
He tried harder and this time got a reaction, a moan and shake of the head. Palmer glanced around, looking for some water to splash on the man’s face, then remembered the coffee pot in the office. He got up to fetch it just as the headlights appeared on the road a few hundred yards away.
It wasn’t a well-travelled road, just a spur off the highway that led to the industrial units and beyond that a small village a mile or so further on. Palmer had to make a decision, and he erred on the side of caution, sprinting back to the truck where he found the R4 rifle. A quick check revealed an almost full clip, and he carried it back to the front of the rig, staying in the shadows with a clear view of the main gate.
The vehicle cruised past at barely fifteen miles an hour. That in itself meant nothing, Palmer knew. It could be locals being cautious after a few too many beers, or one of the many gangs casing the area for something to steal.
As the vehicle neared, Palmer could make out the driver and a female passenger, though he couldn’t tell if there was anyone in the rear as the windows were tinted. The driver didn’t seem to be paying the compound any attention, his focus on the blonde sitting next to him.
The Jeep continued down the road until the lights disappeared around the corner and the sound of the engine eventually faded.
Palmer waited a few moments. Once he was satisfied that it had been a false alarm, he ran back to the office and grabbed the coffee pot, which he emptied out and filled with water from the cooler. He took it back into the yard and poured half of it over the supine figure’s face, shaking the man from his deep slumber.
Harvey shook his head, which felt heavy, turgid. He opened his eyes but they refused to focus, the world a blur of dark shapes and flitting movement. A dark shadow moved over him and morphed into the shape of a human head.
“Where’s your car?”
Harvey fought for clarity, but it was a long time coming.
“Where is it?” The voice repeated.
“I...er...”
Palmer gave him another slap, gentler, just enough to get the man to focus. He squatted next to him, the rifle on the floor replaced by his silenced pistol, which dug into Harvey’s ribs.
“I haven’t got all night,” Palmer said calmly. “Tell me where your vehicle is, or lose a kneecap.”
He moved the gun to Harvey’s knee and began the countdown, while Harvey frantically tried to get his bearings. Palmer reached four when he raised his hand and pointed towards the gate.
“It’s behind that building,” he said, his voice sounding alien in his own ears.
Palmer grabbed Harvey’s collar and dragged him to his feet, pushing him towards the main road. Bending down to retrieve the rifle, he spotted movement from the corner of his eye, in the direction the Jeep had disappeared. He walked nonchalantly behind the van, then got down to see if he could see anything out of the ordinary.
He saw nothing apart a few bushes swaying in the breeze, but to be on the safe side he let off a couple of three-round bursts.
There was no return fire, and no screams, and Palmer chastised himself for jumping at shadows. He got back to his feet and walked around the van in time to see Harvey stumbling towards the main gate, his legs barely obeying his commands.
Palmer realised this one could be trouble once he fully recovered from the effects of the gas, and decided he could get the information he needed from the one who was still in the van. He raised the rifle and fired a round an inch above Harvey’s head, causing him to stop in his tracks.
“Just give me the keys,” he said, and Harvey patted his pockets in a vain attempt to find them. It took a few seconds for him to realise he didn’t have them. He explained this to Palmer, who responded by raising the rifle.
“Drop it!”
The voice came from Palmer’s right, and he moved his head to see the slight figure advancing towards him, a Glock held in a double-handed grip.
“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a standoff,” he smiled, keeping the R4 pointing at Harvey’s lower back. “Aren’t you a bit young to be out so late?”
“One last chance,” the newcomer said, continuing to close on his target.
“That’s far enough, sonny. Stand down —”
The first bullet tore through Palmer’s skull, the second, redundant round hitting an inch lower. He collapsed in a heap and Baines held the gun on the corpse until he was close enough to confirm the kill.
“Only my friends call me Sonny,” he said, and then turned to check that Harvey was okay. He seemed a little confused, almost as if he were drunk, and Baines told him to take a seat on the ground.
“How many more?” he asked, but Harvey was still catching up on events, his brain having difficulty maintaining a normal pace. Baines gave up and signaled Smart to join him, indicating that he should use the rifle to help clear the area.
A minute later, two others helped Harvey to his feet. One he didn’t recognise, but the other was strikingly familiar.
“Sam?” He asked quizzically. “Sam Grant?”
“Hello, Andrew,” Gray smiled.
“You know me?”
Explanations were put on hold as Baines and Smart returned with news of the carnage at the rear of the compound.
“We also found someone in the van,” Sonny told them. “He’s out for the moment, but no sign of injuries.”
Harvey started towards the Mercedes and Gray offered him a shoulder. They got to the rear doors and saw Owen lying on his back.
“We’d better get out of here,” Sonny said, and Gray agreed. He asked Harvey where their car was and it took a few moments for him to clear his head and pass on the information. Smart grabbed the keys from Owen’s pocket and trotted off while Kyle and Sonny pulled Owen from the van and laid him on the floor.
“We need to know who this guy is,” Harvey said, pointing to Palmer’s corpse.
Kyle checked the man’s pockets and came out with a wallet, then pulled out his phone and took snaps from several angles.
“Do you need fingerprints?” he asked, but Harvey decided that what they had was enough.
When Smart returned with the BMW, they loaded Owen and Harvey inside, then drove down the road to where Vick was waiting in the Jeep, while the others made their way back on foot.
“Where do we go from here?” Sonny asked once they’d all assembled.
“We’ve got passports for you and Len in Pr
etoria,” Harvey said, beginning to get his head together. “We also have one ready and waiting for Sam, though we need a new photo. We didn’t know who the fourth person would be, but it won’t take long to knock one up.”
Gray introduced Vick, and it took Harvey a few moments to realise that Vick was the Victoria Phillips he’d been asking questions about a week earlier.
“How on earth did you end up with these three?” Harvey asked, and Vick told him that it was a long story.
“That’s fine,” Harvey said. “It’s also a long drive back to Pretoria.”
They split themselves between the vehicles, with Len driving the BMW carrying Vick, Tom and Andrew, the rest taking the lead in the Jeep.
Harvey turned to Gray once they’d set off. “And the mysterious Sam Grant, the complete stranger who seems to know me. What’s your story?”
Even as he asked the question, his attention was drawn to Gray’s eyes, and when the penny dropped he couldn’t believe what he’d stumbled upon.
“Tom? But you’re…”
“He gets that a lot,” Len said, before Vick could get the words out.
“I was actually coming to look for you,” Gray told him, “but as you’re here, how about I tell you our story and you decide if you’re willing to help us?”
* * *
“Just leave it!”
Uddin grabbed the bag containing the family ornaments and hurled it onto the bed. “We can only take the bare essentials,” he told his wife, Fatima. Their luggage already exceeded the baggage allowance for the flight, and there simply wasn’t room for sentimentality at the moment.
Gray Redemption (Tom Gray #3) Page 18