One of the mercenaries slid beneath the Fiesta and yanked out the remaining battery. He carried it back to the mercenary with the speaker. “You have a choice to make. You can do this the easy way, or the hard way. We have the first battery in the Fiesta; now we just need the prototype Fisher’s sister’s carrying. Throw it out to us and we leave quietly, no fuss. No one needs to die here today. But if you push us, we will put a bullet in your foreheads, am I making myself clear? Don’t go being heroes, all we want is the battery, nothing more. Don’t be stupid here, people.”
70
Hayes didn’t say a word; she listened to her surroundings. No one in the bar area of the hotel said anything. “Is that a helicopter?” It was faint, but undeniably a chopper. With Charlotte by her side, Miller in front of her, Hayes had the two most important people to her in the same room, where she could keep an eye on them. “Is it one of ours?”
“Not unless we’ve started using unmarked helicopters, no.” Miller pointed at the sky through the net curtains. “Look!”
Her partner gave her space to observe through the window. Coming in towards them slowly was a dark chopper. It didn’t say “Police” on its side, which meant it wasn’t theirs. Which could mean only one thing. She turned to Marlowe. “One of yours?”
With a nod, he answered her. “In a minute, they’ll breach this place, and go room to room executing everyone here, do you understand?”
Sarge turned suddenly. “Wait! What do you mean it’s one of yours? Hayes? What the hell are you talking about? Is he a part of this?”
She didn’t like the way Sarge was pointing his MP5 at Marlowe. Hayes stood back, getting in between her captive and the carbine. “Listen to me, Sarge, he’s in my custody, as you can see. He’s cuffed. But in answer to your question, yes, he’s one of them.”
“And he has information we can use to bring this whole thing down.” Miller stepped back, ready to pounce on him if needed.
“You have one minute to bring the battery out, or we breach the building,” the tannoy announced. “If you make us go in, none of you are coming out of there alive. Please don’t be short-sighted; it’s just a stupid battery. We don’t want to hurt you.”
That was what he was counting on. “We’re all agreed this is worth it, right? This car battery will literally change the world as we know it. Companies whose income is based on petrol and oil will collapse, as will oil based economies of countries. What we do here tonight will affect the outcome of our children’s futures.”
“What’s so special about it?” Vodicka asked.
“This battery doesn’t need topping up, ever. It doesn’t require petrol, or oil. It recharges itself using a dual cell, so while one’s in use, the other’s charging. Do you understand how big this is?” Hayes checked Vodicka’s expression.
“You mean I’d never have to pay for petrol again?” the armed officer asked, her glare replaced with raised eyebrows.
“If you fitted this battery to your car now, it would keep on going, like the Battery Bunny. Just think: no petrol stations or trying to find an electric meter. All of that could be a thing of the past. No more CO2 emissions; it’s zero carbon. No more pollution, no more CFCs. Think of the good this battery will do for the environment.”
“It’s our job to protect you, but now you’ve made it a crusade, let’s get set up,” Sarge said, taking charge of the situation.
“The chopper’s right over us,” Vodicka said, trying to watch it.
“That means we have three units on us now. There’s ten out there and another God knows how many about to abseil onto the roof. Listen, if you’re going to give them the battery, now’s the time to do it.” Marlowe waited for an answer.
Hayes glared at him. “It’s not happening. You’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands first, Marlowe, you little maggot. You’re in as much trouble as we are. If they get their hands on you, they’ll put a bullet in your head before they even think about shooting us.”
Marlowe put his cuffed hands up, palms splayed. “Hey, just saying. We can all live through this if she gives them her bag, don’t you see?”
“How about we send you out there with the bag?” Miller glared at Marlowe. “We can kill two birds with one stone.”
Hayes smiled at Miller, who winked back. “How do you want to play this, Sarge? We have an unknown number out there, and only three of us with guns in here.” She looked from person to person, from Charlotte, to Miller, Luke, Vodicka, Sarge, and finally Marlowe.
“That’s not strictly true.” Luke took his Glock out of his holster. “Sarge, we can give our pistols to Hayes and Rachel, can’t we? They’re trained to use them.”
“And we need all the help we can get.” Sarge handed his to Hayes, while Luke gave his to Miller. “Here, take the extra magazines.”
Taking the Glock and magazines from Sarge, Hayes thanked him. “Right, now we’ve evened the score a bit, what now? Where do you want us?” She heard the tannoy guy out front say they had ten seconds until all offers were revoked.
“You’re kidding, right?” Marlowe moaned. “You’re handing out guns, and you’re really not going to give one to me? Hey, I have a right to protect myself.”
“No! You’re a murdering scumbag, you deserve to die.” Charlotte narrowed her eyes and glared at Marlowe until he backed down once more. “Can I have a pistol, please, Hayes? I want to shoot this one in his ugly fucking face.”
“Will you two behave; neither of you are getting your hands on a gun, is that clear? We’ve got bigger things to be worrying about.” Hayes stepped up to the window again, as the mercenary in charge declared a breach, and his group fanned out. One of them walked past the window. “How about I go upstairs with Miller, Charlotte and Marlowe?”
Sarge nodded. “That’s probably the best idea. There’s ten down here.”
“And the others on the roof,” Hayes said to Miller, taking Charlotte’s hand. She strode out of the bar, into the hallway. Heading upstairs, Hayes arrived on the landing, looking right and left. “Let’s split up?”
“I’ll go left with Marlowe,” Miller confirmed, giving her a little ‘good luck’ smile. “Be careful, and remember: take them down – because they won’t show you mercy, okay? Head shots.” She walked away.
“Come on, Charlotte, let’s find a safe hiding place for you,” she said, taking hold of her hand again. Hayes heard movement above them and let go of Charlotte. “They’re trying to smash their way in through the roof.”
She didn’t realise how big the hotel was. There were so many bedrooms on the first floor. Passing several, she chose one, turned the handle, expecting it to be locked, but it wasn’t. “They must have unlocked all the doors for the inspection. Shit!” she whispered to Charlotte.
Inside the spacious bedroom, Hayes closed the door, looking around for something to use to jam it. A high-backed chair would be nice about now. Nope. Nothing. There wasn’t time to sort it, so she ordered Charlotte behind the bed. “Stay there, okay?”
With Charlotte hiding, Hayes set about finding something to use to lock the door. The room was devoid of all things useful. Before she had the chance to wedge it with something, she heard the first gunshot, just a single shot, not an exchange. She gulped, walked backwards towards the bed with her pistol pointed at the door.
Charlotte sat on the floor the other side of the bed. Hayes joined her and knelt with her arms resting on the floral duvet, the Glock in both hands trained at the door. Outside in the hall she heard noises, footsteps.
Breathing shallow, Hayes closed her left eye, looking at the sight when the door handle turned. She held her breath. The door opened slowly.
Seeing the intruder’s kneecap in sight, she pulled the trigger, as the noise of the gunshot reverberated around the room, making her ears ring.
The black-clad intruder fell, letting off a couple of shots from his carbine into the ceiling.
Getting up, she pointed the gun at his head. “Move and I’ll blow your brai
ns out, understood?” She walked round the bed, saw his MP5, and picked it up, putting the pistol in the back of her suit trousers.
Hayes stepped up to him, took his helmet off while he was screaming in pain, and belted him with the butt of her carbine, knocking him unconscious. “Come on! Give me a hand locking him in the bathroom.”
71
Walker squatted behind a chair in the dining room. There were a dozen tables he could have chosen. The table he chose was near the glass patio door, giving him the best view of the incoming mercenaries.
No amount of training could prepare him for this. He’d been involved in several tactical operations, had fired his carbine once, but never had he shot someone before. There was no doubt he would that evening; they were on their way in.
With Sarge in the bar, and Vodicka in the lounge, they had most bases covered, except the hotel was too big for the three of them to handle themselves. His radio hissed, then he heard a female voice ordering all units to converge on the hotel. “Backup’s on its way! We just have to survive until they arrive!”
No one replied. He didn’t have time to dwell on it. A figure in black holding a machine gun stepped in front of the patio door, glass the only barrier between them.
Raising his carbine to eye level, Walker kept him in his sights, his finger on the trigger, ready for action. He swallowed, hard, making a noise. “Shit!” he muttered. Sweat formed on his lip. He didn’t want to kill anyone.
The mercenary tried the door handle.
When it wouldn’t open, he stood back, pointed the carbine at the glass and fired.
Without flinching at the noise, Walker stood, kept the mercenary’s face in his sights, and squeezed the trigger, letting off one round.
The bullet hit his target in the cheek. He fell to his knees, dropped the MP5, and fell onto his face, dead.
Walker stood, stunned for a moment, while his brain processed the information. He’d just killed a man. By law, it wasn’t murder. He had a defence if it came to that in court. The guy would have killed him given the chance. “Sarge! How’re you getting on back there?”
Upstairs, he heard gunshots.
Turning his attention back to the broken patio door, another figure in black appeared.
He didn’t have time to hide.
Before his enemy had a chance to fire, Walker squeezed the trigger five times, hitting the hired gun in the chest three times, once in the neck and once in the eye. The mercenary fell on his back, his legs twitching from the sudden brain trauma.
Walker made a move for the lounge, where Vodicka had shot one of them. Her victim sat in an armchair, his head tilted to the side. The only way Walker knew he was dead was seeing the bullet wound in his cheek. “We need to help Rachel and Hayes. That woman’s got the battery.”
“You go! There’s more down here,” Vodicka replied.
Although what she said didn’t sound hostile, her eyes told a different story. Walker agreed, nodded, and walked backwards into the dining room, not wanting to turn in front of her. Once out of the lounge, he ran for the hallway.
“Rachel!” he shouted up the stairs.
More shooting upstairs made him run up one flight to the first landing. “Rachel!” Nothing, just gunshots. “Talk to me, baby, where are you?”
When he turned left, a door opened. He leapt to safety inside a room before bullets hit the wall. He was in a bedroom, plush, well maintained, with floral bedding and light-coloured walls. Walker opened the door a crack, then shut it quickly, a figure on its way.
Upon seeing the handle turn, he fired three shots into the door, then heard a body slump to the floor. When he opened the door again, his target lay there, a hole in his forehead. He couldn’t have shot him any more centrally if he tried.
“Luke, they’re everywhere!” Miller shouted from upstairs.
“How many have you taken out?”
“Two. How about you?”
He wished he could see her. “Three, and Voddy wasted one that I saw.” When he received no reply, he stepped over the body into the hall.
Bullets came flying at him from nowhere. He ran at speed in the opposite direction to Rachel’s voice.
72
Miller wanted to march downstairs, find Luke and kiss him. Instead, she stood beside the bedroom door watching as the handle turned. Sweat formed on her temple. She raised her pistol, kept it pointed skyward, ready to lower to head height at a moment’s notice.
Next to her, Marlowe had his hands cuffed in front of him. “If you’d uncuffed me, and given me a gun earlier, we wouldn’t be in this shit.” His voice was an angry whisper. “Give me that pistol now and I’ll take care of this.”
“Shh!” She glared at him. Turning her attention to the handle, the door opened slowly, letting the muzzle of the carbine inside. Miller braced herself, held her breath, and barged the thick wooden door, wedging the mercenary between the frame and the wood. The guy’s helmet fell off.
With as much power as she could muster, she slammed her full weight behind the door three more times, the guy’s head catching the force on two occasions. He slumped to the floor, unconscious. Bending over, she picked up the carbine, putting the pistol in her trousers. “That’s three. It’s time to finish this.”
“Oh what? You think it’s going to be that easy?” Marlowe stayed behind her when she opened the door and stepped over the body, into the hallway. “These guys are trained killers, remember? You think you’re getting out of here? None of us are.”
“You hear those sirens, don’t you? Your mates know that if they take too long at this, they’ll be surrounded. It’s why they’re getting sloppy.” As soon as she set foot on the carpet, Miller had to jump back inside, as bullets tore up the door. “Down!” she cried, looking up at the hallway where she’d just been, the MP5 still in her hands. “Quick! Shut the door!”
The unconscious intruder was in the way. She forced Marlowe to drag him further into the bedroom, then slammed the door shut. “Shit! We’re trapped!”
What sounded like firecrackers forced Miller onto her side. Bullets blasted their way through a wall. Next door, one of the mercenaries tried their luck. She turned onto her other side, listening. There was movement behind the wall.
“Now!” Marlowe shouted.
Without hesitation, Miller squeezed the trigger eight times at the wall, in the general area of the noise. One bullet hit her guy; she heard him moan, followed by swearing, grumbling. She’d injured one, but he still had his gun. “Damn it!”
She didn’t have time to fret, the door burst open and a black-clad mercenary ran in, firing blind. He was firing at chest height, yet Miller lay on the carpet. Waiting until he was all the way inside, committed to his attack, she squeezed the trigger three times, the first bullet hitting him in the neck, the last two missing him.
He fell back, grabbed his throat with one hand and raised the carbine with the other. The mercenary kept using his leg to crawl away from her.
“The next one goes in your forehead,” Miller hissed. “Put it down.”
Surrendering not his preferred plan, the intruder stopped crawling.
By the time he’d raised his MP5 to fire at her, Miller had already shot him twice, once in the chest and once in the forehead. He lay on his back staring skyward, his dead eyes shocked. “That’s what you get for underestimating the Metropolitan Police, you piece of shit.” Miller stood, then helped Marlowe to his feet. “See what I mean? Sloppy.”
In the distance she heard more gunfire, sporadic, small arms, by the sound of it. Miller could tell Hayes was having trouble. There were two different guns firing. She had enough experience of firearms to tell the difference. “I’ve got to help Hayes.”
“Are you kidding? You’re worried about your partner? Worry about us getting out of here in one piece, why don’t you!”
“You know, for ex-special forces, you sure are a fucking coward.”
“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m handcuffed, with no gun, you s
tupid bitch! I have to rely on you not getting me killed, for fuck’s sake.”
“I don’t give a shit! We’re going to find Hayes, stay close.” Miller opened the door slowly, knowing there could still be mercenaries out in the hall. She peeked out from behind the door frame. Nothing.
73
“Luke, we need help down here,” Sarge shouted.
Walker froze, listening to everything around him. He heard gunshots downstairs. Wanting to ignore Sarge, he took a step away from the stairs, then stopped. Sarge and Vodicka were still part of his team; he couldn’t leave them down there with a load of mercenaries. If he lived through this, and they didn’t, Walker wouldn’t be able to live with himself. There was no knowing how many more there were.
He turned and headed back down the stairs, his carbine in front of him, trained on whatever got in his way. A stair at a time, gunshots going off all around him, above and below, his senses were sharp, his trigger finger ready.
On the ground floor, he turned into the hallway to find it empty.
Walker breathed out, relief flooding him.
The bar was directly in front of him. To his right, flashes made him dive through the doorway, but not before a bullet caught him in his right shoulder. He lay on the floor, the pain so intense he thought he might faint.
Behind him, Sarge was dealing with a mercenary. Walker used his right leg to try to close the bar door, but before he could, a figure emerged. With his MP5 in hand, he put six bullets in the guy, one bullet catching him in his open mouth.
In the doorway, the mercenary lay in a pool of his own blood.
For a moment or two, his brain forgot about the pain. It came back with friends once the danger was over. Walker groaned, holding his injured arm. “Sarge?”
The Hard Way Page 26