by James Flynn
“I stashed petrol and matches in the S80 boot. We both know the best way to get rid of our mark is to blaze this baby.”
Bobby was right; fire would be the best way to get rid of any prints or DNA that the pair would have left behind. The only problem Luke had with it was leaving a blazing beacon, even in a rundown parking lot. The area was still built up and the authorities would be notified pretty quickly. Fuck it, we’ll be long gone before they arrive.
Luke popped the boot. Seona was almost in exactly the same position she had curled into when they first dropped her inside. Her eyes locked on his balaclava-covered face, and he could see the terror in her deep blue eyes. Her hair was stuck across her forehead, aided by the sweat. She seemed to be fighting back tears.
As Bobby began struggling with Seona, Luke scanned the surrounding area, looking for a possible place to set the car alight. Ideally he would have wanted distance between the blaze and the parking lot, but time was of the essence. On the far side of the waste ground Luke saw that there was a gap between the wire fencing and the adjoining building; it looked as though there may be an alleyway. Jogging over to the fence Luke could see that there was, in fact, a rough weed-strewn passage running off into the darkness, splitting the warehouse and the red-bricked building next door. The end of the passage wasn’t visible in the darkness, but it was definitely wide enough for the Mazda.
“I’m going to dump it down the alley, at least make it awkward.” He jumped in the Mazda as he spoke.
“Make it quick, man.” Luke could barely hear Bobby as the American strained with the weight of Seona on his back.
Keeping the headlights turned off, Luke slowly drove the Mazda down the dark passage; the car bumped up and down on potholes, weed mounds and random jagged bricks that were strewn across the ground. There seemed to be no end to the rough corridor so Luke stopped just past the rear edge of the warehouse, groping around the passenger seat for the petrol can. Lacing the seats and dashboard with the combustible liquid, Luke decided to leave the windows wound up. He knew that with the windows down it would give the fire an endless supply of oxygen, but it also allowed smoke to pour out in abundance. He wanted to contain the fire for as long as possible. It wouldn’t take long for the pressure to smash the glass. However, every second was crucial. Throwing the lit match inside, he covered his eyes as he slammed the door shut. The heat hit like a sledgehammer. Once the job was done he turned and ran back toward Bobby.
As he came level with the waste ground, he peered through the wire fence over to the S80 on the opposite side, sat in the shadows. He was surprised to see Bobby still had the boot open and was bent over with his right arm inside. What’s he doing?
As he re-entered the front gate, Bobby was still rummaging around in the boot, seemingly unaware. Slowing his pace, Luke arced round behind Bobby to try and get a view on what he was doing. As he got closer he could now see Bobby’s hand, it was placed down the front of Seona’s tracksuit bottoms, and Luke could hear Bobby mumbling, either to himself or to Seona.
Luke had walked many a moral tightrope but some things were beyond the boundaries.
Luke cracked the side of his palm hard down onto the base of Bobby’s neck, causing his torso to crash onto the edge of the car frame. His hand instantly retracted from Seona’s tracksuit. Luke pulled out the Browning from his waistband and aimed it at Bobby.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
There was no reply from the American but Luke could see him eyeing up the pistol.
“I couldn’t give a fuck what gets you off, but if you so much as sniff her hair again I’ll kill you, got it?” He kept his voice level.
Bobby nodded his head and squinted at the pain it caused.
“Get in the car and get us to where we need to be.” He holstered the weapon.
Bobby got timidly to his feet and walked around to the driver’s side. Luke turned his attention back to Seona. She lay in the same foetal position but her eyes were streaming with tears. There was a stillness to her; she seemed paralysed with fear.
Luke leant into the boot and in perfect Russian said, “He won’t touch you again. Stay calm and you won’t be hurt.”
Her eyes stayed locked on his, before the shadow of the boot plunged her into darkness and she was gone.
There was a sudden echoed explosion from the alleyway; they had overstayed their welcome. Bobby gunned the S80 and they sped off.
22.
The darkness was impenetrable; Seona could feel the frame of the boot pushing closer and closer with every passing minute. She had decided to close her eyes, that way she could use the coloured dots as a distraction to the madness that her mind was falling into.
She had given up on trying to keep track of time. She had started by counting every painful second, another futile exercise in trying to keep sane, a distraction attempt at rationalising the nightmare she was involved in. She had not even seen the two men come up behind her outside the Plaza. The muffled sounds of gunshots still tore through her mind as she replayed her terrifying kidnap. She had heard the deafening sounds of bullets ricocheting around outside her darkened prison, and had prayed that one wouldn’t tear through the car.
She screwed her eyes tighter at the thought of the disgusting words the American had been mumbling in her ears. Tears were falling weakly from her eyes as she clenched her jaw with anger at the vivid memory of his bony fingers creeping from her stomach downwards. If it hadn’t been for the British guy, the American would have taken a sick pleasure in abusing her.
What do they want with me? Do they know who I am? They must want me for a ransom.
Alone with nothing but her fear and thoughts, Seona’s head was spinning uncontrollably. Was she just trying to give herself some form of hope by telling herself that her kidnappers wanted money? That way she would be kept alive.
What if they are just screwed up perverts?
23.
The light was starting to win the battle with the night. Luke rested his head on the window, staring out at the blurred shadows as they passed. The early-morning radio was playing; Luke had switched it on to see if they had made the news. They had, which he knew was actually relatively good news for them. If it hadn’t made the news, then it would have meant the security services such as the FBI, CIA or even NSA were all over it. Luke knew if a disturbance like the one they had caused didn’t make the news, then the American security services would have ordered a blackout on public knowledge and that would not be good for their progress. They needed it to look like a smash and grab for a wealthy heiress. The police would no doubt inform the FBI, expecting a ransom, but Luke was doubtful that they would suspect she was being lifted from the States altogether. The radio news broadcaster was recounting the story: “A gunfight has taken place at the world-renowned Plaza hotel, two armed Russians have been found dead outside the hotel, and it is thought Seona Latvik, daughter of the Russian billionaire Prussias Latvik, has been kidnapped by an unidentified number of men.”
A sign in the now slightly fading dark indicated that they were about ten miles from Syracuse. Luke checked the time, it was 5.45 a.m., and it had taken them just over two hours to get there. Luke was impressed at the progress they were making; he had reckoned on them taking about three hours to make the distance. Bobby was flying, which was acceptable, and the roads were relatively quiet at this hour.
No words had been spoken between them since leaving the back-lot; the radio was the only thing breaking the silence and tension. Luke had nothing to say to the American, if they had not been on a job he would have torn him apart, but unfortunately there was still a long way to go. His training had instilled in him that the only priority is the operation.
Bobby checked the mirror and signalled to turn off the I-81 highway; he barely slowed down as he swung off onto the exit ramp. It took Luke a few minutes until he started to feel slightly uncomfortable; the road signs were telling him that Bobby had turned onto US-20.
Something’s n
ot right. What is it?
Luke glanced over at the American; he had been sat with his foot on the accelerator for the past three hours with barely any sign of movement. Now he was checking his mirror every few seconds, shifting in his seat with a nervous energy. Luke looked into the wing mirror; there was no sign of any vehicle tailing them.
Something’s wrong.
“Anything wrong?” Luke asked in a very relaxed manner.
“Err…no, no. Just checking we’re still alone.”
Luke didn’t believe him. Trust no one.
The new road was much smaller and quieter than the highway; Luke guessed by the signs that Auburn was the next biggest town they would pass. Something in the back of Luke’s brain was trying to alert his attention to something, Bobby was definitely anxious. Not for the first time on this job Luke felt the familiar feeling of his instinct kicking in. Auburn doesn’t ring any bells.
His brain was now flicking through the route map he had memorised…Auburn wasn’t on it! Then details started to tumble down like a waterfall. He now remembered that they were in fact meant to go around the outskirts of Syracuse then onwards north west up toward the border.
Calmly, he asked, “Diversion?”
“Kind of, it’s a much quicker way, man.”
“Why the change?”
Luke could now see that Bobby was trying hard to sound natural. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before, I used to holiday up near the border when I was a kid. The traffic around Syracuse used to drive my Pops mad, so he used to divert down this way instead. Much quicker.”
It’s almost 6 a.m. No traffic.
Bobby’s voice was even and believable enough, but Luke had an instinct for lies, it had kept him alive for the past five years. Luke touched his fingers onto the warm Browning handle sticking out from under his thigh.
Bobby chirped, “Chill man, I want to get this over and done with as quickly and smoothly as you.” He paused, “Listen Leon, what happened back there it…it was wrong, man, I … I never do shit like that, I got carried away, or something. It was crazy … sick. Sorry.”
Luke did nothing more than nod.
The car suddenly swerved left onto a small country road, a hedgerow ran in conjunction with the grass verge. Before Luke could ask if this was part of the detour, Bobby pulled up onto a section of the verge which was worn away and the tyres skidded slightly in the mud.
“What the …” Luke couldn’t finish his question.
Bobby had pulled out his pistol with lightning speed, and held it level with Luke’s ear.
“Don’t even think about the gun, unless you can move faster than a bullet, my man.”
Without moving the pistol closer, Bobby reached down to pick up Luke’s gun from under his thigh.
“It’s been such a great trip, you Brits are quite good company.” A sly smile crept across Bobby’s face.
Luke kept his attention on the hand holding the pistol; he wanted Bobby to just move an inch closer, so it would be in the arc of his arm movement, but Bobby knew to keep it away from his reach. Is this improvisation or pre-planned?
“What are you doing, Bobby?” Luke made sure his voice was strong.
“It’s a shame, Leon, but it seems as though you aren’t as sharp as you’d like to think. You’re being relieved of your command.”
“You think you’re going to just walk into the airfield alone? I’m their contact.” Luke wanted to buy some time.
Bobby chuckled. “Are you quite sure about that?”
Luke had no reply; he couldn’t get a grasp on the logistics of the situation. He was certain that Bobby couldn’t be working alone.
“What’s the matter, dude, no reply? Surprised, huh? Seems like you’ve been used like a cheap whore.” The amusement on the American’s face was starting to rattle Luke.
“The whole job’s a set up?” Luke was trying to probe.
“Well, not the whole job, little baby back there is still being shifted.”
“By you? You think you’ll make it in Britain without something being picked up?”
Bobby chuckled, “I love the good old U S of A too much to leave, man. I’m just a courier, a soon-to-be-rich courier.”
“So you’re just dropping her at the airport?” Luke desperately wanted more information; he couldn’t see Bobby letting him live.
“Now that would be telling.” Bobby held a thought, and then obviously felt there was no harm in saying, “My job’s done, I just had to get you to here. I can sit back and wait to get my cut.”
Luke looked away from the gun for the first time and scanned the surrounding area. It was now light, a sharp morning brightness. There was nothing around; intermittent yellow rapeseed-covered fields dotted the landscape. There was no sign of any movement. Luke flicked his eyes back to Bobby.
“Go on then, pull the trigger.”
“Now, now, Leon, let’s not get carried away, man.”
Luke was considering lunging for the gun, but Bobby’s finger was primed on the trigger and there was no way the distance could be made before he got a shot away.
“Look on the bright side, very soon it will all be over.” Bobby stared into Luke’s eyes. “You look surprised, my man. Come on, this little coup has been properly seen to.”
Luke couldn’t control his anger, and lurched forward toward Bobby, but the American leaned back slightly and brought the gun to bear directly toward his face; there was nothing he could do.
“Relax, the reunion is not quite yet.” Bobby had a slight drop of sweat running down his forehead.
“What the fuck are we waiting for?” snapped Luke.
Before Bobby could answer a low hum of an engine sounded behind them. Luke swung his head round to look through the seats, and Bobby did the same.
“Ah, right on time.”
As Bobby spoke, Luke felt a hard thud on the back of his head, dots swam across his eyes and then all was black.
24.
Sir Peter finally took to the podium; the meeting had been delayed and the crowd was restless. He let the lacklustre applause die down and scanned the faces staring up at him; it was a record turnout.
“Good morning ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your attendance.” Sir Peter paused for effect. “It feels like every year we are being told that the world is changing, that a collective global will is herding us all toward a new age, an age where boundaries will fall and people will be embraced by harmony.”
He scanned the faces in a well-rehearsed arc.
“I, too, want such a dream but it is just that, a dream. We have seen that in the past we have made dreams become a reality, and that is what we must strive for, what we must fight for. Believe me; I do not use that word lightly. I stand before you as someone who has spent a lifetime fighting for this country’s ideals, to ensure that dreams can be realised, holding back the enemy, any enemy who wanted to destroy those dreams.”
Sir Peter now had everyone’s attention.
“We must be under no illusion that the further we forge and the harder we push, the more resistance we will find. As long as there is freedom, there will be people opposed to it. Those opponents are as die-hard in their belief in repression and violence as we are in our belief in freedom and democracy. The only way to stand strong against these evils is to stand together. Support is vital to the cause and it is a just cause. As with any just and decent cause there will be causalities, there will be sacrifices, but I for one will not waver in my task to ensure the safety of our once great nation. We are in hard times, it is affecting everyone across the world, but I cannot stress enough that certain areas must not be cut back, the defence of our families and our friends is not something we can afford not to afford.”
He had liked the quip and let it hang.
“I give you my word that Great Britain’s combined intelligence forces are working at full capacity. We are tackling every issue that is within our power. I do not need to tell you that we are fraying at the seams; the dem
ands are beginning to outweigh the resources. If we let the scales tip it will have dire consequences that will reverberate around the globe. Today I urge you to remember that with peace, there must be protection. I will not let you down, and it is now on you not to let the country down. Good day.”
Sir Peter re-took his seat to a wave of applause. He was pleased with the reaction, but he knew support could be fickle. He knew it would require more than a two-minute speech to demonstrate to people the true depth of the challenge posed by terrorism.
25.
“Thank you Maureen.”
Mulberry nodded at the elderly woman as she left his usual tuna sweetcorn sandwich and cup of tea. Maureen was an institution within the SIS building; she had been there long before Mulberry had taken up residence. She was the ultimate MI6 tea lady, knowing all the personnel on the upper floors. Everyone used to joke that she knew more about British security than anyone.
As she shut the door Mulberry picked up the sandwich to take a bite when the phone rang.
“David Mulberry … yes … hello?” He subconsciously swivelled his chair to face out of the large triple-paned glass window. “Scramble on channel 450…ok, go ahead … good, still as planned … let’s hope it gets back nice and safe, right, keep me updated.” He held the receiver in his hand as he leant on his wrist, and then gently placed it down.
The afternoon London sun was briefly hidden behind a light cloud, creating a shadow over the buildings either side of the Thames. Mulberry let out a long sigh; he felt as though things were moving in a positive way, but the risk he was taking still weighed heavy on his shoulders. His eyes followed a white tourist boat gleaming in the re-emerged sun as it made its way lazily down the river. He could just make out all the tourists heading to the near side of the boat to get a picture of the architectural brilliance that was the SIS building. The boat soon disappeared out of sight, following the meandering river towards Battersea Park.