Stone Fall

by J. D. Weston

  Sirens sounded in the distance, and the taxi driver roused himself at the sound. He raised his arm to stop Denver’s attack and looked behind him. Then he smiled cruelly at Denver. Denver saw the man’s left hand reaching across to the passenger floor. A tangled mass of wires was connected to a home-made switch. He glanced into the back of the taxi and saw that there were no seats.

  Denver threw himself into the driver's seat on top of the man and wrestled his arm from the wires, but the man was strong and held on. His fingers were slowly working towards the switch while Denver tried to pull him away.

  With no other choice, Denver stamped on the gas pedal. His right leg dragged along the ground as he steered the taxi away from the van and the team. The Middle-Eastern man struggled harder, but Denver pulled his foot in and pushed back on the driver, pinning him to the seat. He held the driver’s wrist and tried to pry the wires from his bony hand but the man held fast. With his right hand, Denver steered the accelerating taxi away from other traffic. The wing mirror smashed off as he passed too close to another car and the driver got out and began to shout.

  Denver rounded a long, sweeping bend and came to a straight. He held the steering wheel with his leg, and began punching the driver’s head furiously. The man was shouting in a foreign language, repeating the same sentence over and over.

  Grabbing the wheel once more, Denver slid the taxi around a corner too fast. It bounced off the curb, but maintained its speed. He rounded the long chicane of Queen Victoria Street where the road merged with the embankment, and, seeing no other choice, aimed the speeding taxi towards the river.

  The high curb tore the front wheel off the chassis and the car’s rear end bounced hard, launching into the air. Denver braced for the impact. The crazed driver seized the opportunity he’d been waiting for and lunged for the switch as the car crashed into the water.

  The river muffled the explosion, but the blast rocked Blackfriar’s Bridge, shook the surrounding trees and smashed the glass of cars passing by. A rush of water surged high into the air.

  Within moments, the river had returned to its steady flow of brown water. The only sign of the taxi was the thousands of bubbles that surfaced then dissipated, disappearing as quickly as the taxi had been destroyed.

  16

  Beast’s Revenge

  Harvey launched himself from the side door onto the front of the taxi that was wedged into the side of the van. Both vehicles were powering through the crash, each driver battling to bring the other to a stop. Harvey clung to the wiper with one hand and with the other reached behind him and pulled his weapon from his waist. He brought it up to fire, but the driver pulled hard on the steering wheel, sending Harvey to the far side of the car’s bonnet. His leg fell off the smooth surface, and his foot dragged perilously close the wheels scraping the floor. His felt the burn of the rubber through his thick boots.

  The taxi ploughed on with one blown tyre. The driver straightened up, and Harvey clung on for his life, desperately trying to keep his leg from being dragged under the wheel.

  Denver saw his chance and steered the van into the taxi’s path, trying to stop the cab from crushing Harvey into the railings, but it was too late. Harvey was dragged from the car, and his hand ripped off the sharp metal wiper arm. The rear wheels bounced across his thigh, and Harvey rolled to a stop face down on the tarmac.

  His leg pounded and his hands were wet with warm sticky blood, but all he could do was close his eyes and rest his head on the hard road.

  It felt like an eternity, sleep washed over him, deep and welcoming. He was no longer laying on the road but was warm in fresh, clean sheets. All around him were featureless white walls and air so clean he could taste the sea. He imagined a long, empty beach with the sea far off to his right. Long wild grass grew in clumps to his left, beyond was a blur of pastel yellow and green. He ran on the sand. He ran so fast he thought he would trip and stumble, but she held out her hand. It was Hannah, enticing him to catch her, faster, faster, her long legs bounded easily over the sand. Her bare feet barely left a mark.

  He was closer now, the sun was stronger, the light was brighter. He squinted but ran harder. Tears streamed from his eyes. He reached out, step after step, bound after bound in the soft sand, then, at last, he felt her hand slip through his fingers. Harder, faster, he pushed, his breathing in time with his effort, blinded by the bright light he ran on and on. He could hear her laughing. “Run, Harvey, you can catch me.”

  He growled loudly and pushed harder than ever. His little arms pumped wildly and his legs were numb, but all the power in his child’s body surged through them. Reaching out once more, he felt her fingers, long and slender. He held his hand there, groping in his blindness as he pumped his other arm and legs. He growled again, long and hard and pushed with everything he had.

  His hand found hers, and gripped it tight, like a man’s grip. She laughed in the light then stumbled and they fell together and rolled. He came to a stop on his back, and she laid across him, panting. “You did it, Harvey, you caught me.” He was no longer a boy, he was a man. But his sister retained her youth, her perfect skin and welcoming smile. Kindness shone from her eyes and the wind ruffled her long, blonde hair.

  “You did it, Harvey.” She smiled up at him.

  A cold wind rushed over Harvey. His body shook and his muscles convulsed. He tried to curl up but his leg wouldn’t move, and a dull ache set into his back. Something wailed in the distance. The sound grew closer. The bright, white walls and the clean air turned to grey. He licked his parched lips and tasted grit and blood.

  He opened his eyes.

  “Harvey?” A silhouette kneeled over him. “Harvey, talk to me.” He closed his eyes again.

  Harvey clenched his fist and felt the stab of pain across his palm, but clenched tighter and harder, squeezing the blood from his grip.

  “Don’t move, Harvey, stay there, it’s okay, there’s help coming.”

  The realisation that he was laying on a road struck him, and he rolled painfully onto his back.

  “Don’t move, Harvey. Can you talk? Can you hear me?”

  He opened his eyes one more and saw nothing but the dome of St Paul's Cathedral, black against the grey sky.

  “Here, take some water.” The woman held a bottle to his mouth and poured him a sip. He wanted more and reached for it, but she held him down. “Stay there, Harvey.” He swallowed and felt the water release the tension in his throat.

  “The taxi?”

  “It’s gone,” said the woman. “You nearly killed yourself.”

  Recognition came to him, and he stared at her. Her long hair rested on his neck as she leaned over him. “I know that smell.”

  “Harvey, you’ve had a serious accident, stay down, just relax.”

  “I know you,” he rasped.

  “Of course you do.” She put her hand on his face and wiped moisture from his eye with her thumb. “It’s me, Melody.”

  “Melody,” he said. The wailing grew louder. More people stood around him. Melody spoke loudly to them. “Move away, give him space.” Harvey saw them holding their phones. A man in a bright yellow jacket helped her move people away, and the ambulance parked alongside him. Two men in bright green knelt by his side.

  “Mr Stone, can you hear me?” said the first man.

  Harvey didn’t reply.

  The man stared into Harvey’s eyes. “Can you hear me? Can you tell me where it hurts?” The man was feeling along Harvey’s legs for broken bones.

  “Come closer,” said Harvey.

  The man leaned into him so Harvey could talk into his ear.

  “Get me up.”

  “Oh no, you’re going on a stretcher my friend, you won't-“

  “Get me up, now,” said Harvey. He turned his head to find Melody, his eyes wild. “Get me up, Melody.”

  “Harvey, no. Let them do their jobs.”

  “What’s your name?” said Harvey to the second EMT, the older of the men who was filling out a re
port on a tablet. He looked down at Harvey.

  “My name’s Jim, Mr Stone.”

  “Jim, tell your friend to stop checking for broken bones and help me up.”

  “You’re clearly a brave man, Mr Stone, but as my colleague-“

  “I’ll do you both a deal.” The two men listened. “If you help me up and I begin to fall, you can stop me falling and put me the ambulance. But if I don’t fall, and can stand, I walk away with my friend here.”

  “Sir, unfortunately-“

  “Am I a grown man?”

  “Yes, Mr Stone.”

  “So let me make a grown man’s decision. If you don’t help me up, I’ll damn well get up myself, and that’ll be the end of it.”

  “Harvey, you can’t-“

  “I can do what I like, Melody,” he said calmly but sharply. “Are you going to help me up?”

  The older of the two nodded at the first one, and they knelt either side of Harvey. Harvey bent his good leg and felt them pull his shoulders up. He pushed against them and felt the blood rush to his head, dizzying him.

  “Easy now, come on, sit in the ambulance.” The two men each held an arm.

  “Okay,” said Harvey. “Let me go.”

  Melody stood in front of him shaking her head. Harvey put the weight on his bad leg and breathed out, letting the pain in, controlling it, dominating it, as it scoured his leg for new places to hurt. He put more weight on and the pain increased. Still he stood, defiant.

  “Thank you, both,” said Harvey.

  Melody stepped across the road and stood beside Harvey as the two EMTs moved away. She put her arm around him, and he rested his arm on her shoulders. He limped across to the van where Reg stood.

  The look on Reg’s face was sour. Tears rolled freely from his eyes.

  “Reg, where’s Denver?” asked Melody.

  Reg didn’t reply. He just stood and stared, shaking his head. He stood paralysed, looking dumbfounded between Harvey and Melody. They stepped in closer. Harvey put his other arm up to Reg’s shoulder, and Melody did the same. The three of them stood like that for several minutes, holding each other. The emotion ran through the group. At first, Harvey felt he was holding his two colleagues in a time of tragedy, then he felt the anger and loss wash over him, and felt as if it was them that held and comforted him.

  Policemen broke up the huddle and took them to one side of the street. Melody discreetly showed him her badge and asked him to wait for Frank Carver to arrive. She and Reg slumped to the ground, but Harvey stood leaning against the wall. He put more weight on his bad leg for longer periods each time. Melody rested her head against his good leg and closed her eyes.

  Harvey knew the power of adrenalin, he knew it would render the team powerless once its magical effects wore off. He kept himself charged and ran through the events in his head. Everything had changed. It was all different now. He looked up at St Paul’s Cathedral across the street and wondered what might have been.

  The team’s sleek Audi drew up beside them. The driver side door opened and Frank stepped out the car. He pulled his long jacket around him and tied the belt, then folded his collar up against the wind. It was only then that Harvey realised the wind was strong and cold. His leather jacket had saved his skin and bore the brunt of the fierce British winter breeze.

  Frank stood before them.

  Melody looked up at him, but didn’t stand. “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” said Frank with strength in his voice. It was just the four of them on the pavement opposite the cathedral. Frank waited for a full minute before speaking.

  17

  Luring the Monster

  “We just lost a good man, the world just lost a good man, and Denver’s family just lost everything,” said Frank. “We need to act now, grieve later. I know it’s hard, and if you want out. Now’s the time to leave.”

  They were all silent.

  “Let's recap what we’ve got,” said Frank.

  “We believe that the auction isn’t going to take place in the manor house, that was a diversion from Stimson,” said Harvey.

  “Okay,” said Frank. He was engaged and listening.

  “We believe the auction will take place at an auction house on Queen Victoria Street, that’s a hundred yards from where we’re standing.”

  Harvey saw the cogs turning in Frank’s head.

  “We also believe that the buddha is already there in the vault.”

  “So the explosion was meant to be a distraction for the robbery?” Asked Frank.

  “Yeah, we found Arthur Bell’s taxi inside the warehouse, the seats had been stripped out ready for the explosives.”

  “And?”

  “Plus the seats of at least two more taxis.”

  “And?”

  “About a hundred kilos of plastic explosives.”

  “There’s two more taxis rigged to blow?” asked Frank.

  “We believe so, sir.”

  “This is Stimson we’re talking about, loud explosions are not his style.”

  “Harvey thinks his motivation has changed,” said Melody.

  Frank nodded. “I’d agree with that, the entire strategy has changed, but he’s been through a lot of trouble to get us out of the way. The manor, the cop. Are the phones still compromised?”

  “We believe so, sir. They knew exactly where we were,” said Reg.

  “And probably where we are now,” said Harvey.

  “Exactly,” said Frank. “So we need to move fast before they strike again. The taxis were stolen, they’re hard to spot, easier to transport explosives. No-one would look twice at a taxi driving through here.”

  “But we needed to be diverted,” said Melody.

  “Yes, but not killed. Stimson isn’t a killer remember,” said Frank.

  “So why were we attacked and nearly blown up?” asked Reg.

  “The motivation got stronger,” said Harvey. He pushed himself from the wall and winced as he limped to stand closer to the others. Melody put her hand on his arm, but he nodded to reassure her that he was okay standing on his own. “Whatever pressure is on Stimson to get that buddha, it recently got a lot stronger. Whatever is driving him to do the heist has recently become more pressing.” Harvey thought on his own words. “Time is running out.”

  “Time is running out? asked Melody.

  “Reg can you tell us if the auction house is closed now?” asked Harvey.

  “Sure, I’ll fire up the computers and see if I can-”

  “Or you could walk around the corner and see if there’s anything outside, like a timetable. Public auctions often have a notice behind glass like a courtroom,” said Harvey.

  “Oh, okay, that’s easier,” said Reg.

  “Keep your comms open,” said Frank as Reg walked away and disappeared around the corner.

  “So, I’m guessing you’ll be starting at the top, and finding out why Stimson’s motivation has stepped up?” asked Frank.

  “Seems like a good place to start,” said Harvey.

  “And how exactly do you plan on doing that? Time is running out, after all.”

  “There’s three players here, not including Stimson, because he never leaves the house it seems.”

  “Right.”

  “Larson, clever bastard, one step ahead the entire time.”

  “Agreed.”

  “The goon, who doesn't really pose much of an issue until we come to take Stimson out, which isn’t top priority here is it. Our priority is stopping the bombs going off so the auction can run, and the buddha can be removed from the vault safely and taken away someplace else.”

  “I’d agree with that loosely. Who's the third player?”

  “Al Sayan.”

  “I told you not to go there, Stone.”

  “You want me to finish this, you need to trust me. Al Sayan is the key. Do you honestly believe that Stimson is responsible for what just happened to Denver?”

  Frank looked at Harvey, sighed,
then nodded slowly. “That changes everything,” he said.

  “While we waste time chasing Stimson and Larson, Al Sayan is picking us off, making it easier for them,” said Harvey. “We need to turn our attention here to the one who’s calling shots.”

  The team were silent.

  “First job,” said Harvey. “We need to lure them out. Go somewhere easy to find, somewhere we can’t run away. Once we see who comes after us, we’ll see who’s calling the shots here.”

  “That's a terrible plan, it doesn’t make sense,” said Melody.

  Harvey smiled. “Did you see the taxi driver?”

  “Yeah.”

  “British?”

  “Middle Eastern at a guess.”

  “Right,” said Harvey. “We’ll get out of here, go somewhere with an open space and less people, somewhere a bomb could go off and not hurt anyone but us.”

  “You’ve lost the plot.”

  “They’re tracking us, we’re being hunted. Don’t you see it?” said Harvey. “Let's not take the mountain to Mohammed, let him come to us.”

  “You have a plan I presume?” said Frank.

  “I take the phones, stand in the middle of a field or a car park or something. Then two things will happen.”

  Melody was intrigued, but concerned.

  “Reg will see the phone’s interception.”

  “And?”

  “Someone will turn up, possibly in the second black cab.”

  “And what good will that do?

  “Two things, if the driver is British, which I doubt he is, Stimson’s running the show, and we prod the driver for information. My speciality.”

  “And if he’s-”

  “If he’s Middle Eastern, he won't talk, but he won't need to.”

  “Why not?

  “Because if he’s one of Al Sayan’s men, it means that it is Al Sayan increasing the pressure on Stimson. We have a direction.”

  “You’re putting yourself in the line of fire, Stone.”

  “Denver just drove a taxi rigged with explosives into the Thames so we could live. Let's make it count. You have a Diemaco in the van?” Harvey asked Melody.