The Terminate Code: A gripping, page-turning, action adventure revenge thriller, with a fast pace, and a terrifying twist in its tail ! (Hedge & Cole Book 2)

by Kevin Bradley

  Cho was now gripping Solomon as hard as she could with her small hands. Her fingers were moving in a quick rhythm. Solomon could hear his lover crying out, and he squeezed hard on her hand as he too reached his climax.

  ‘Aaaah, yes, yes’ he shouted, as a thick jet of clear, warm liquid spurted out from the end of his erection.

  Cho continued to stroke him until his ejaculation was complete. He sank back finally and rested on the bed. He looked across at Elena. She was smiling back at him. It was obvious that he had enjoyed himself. The evidence was all too clear.

  Solomon looked at her closely. He was hoping she had also enjoyed the experience. She always seemed to. It would be terrible if she was just faking her enjoyment simply to please him. He smiled again. Yes, he thought, her response was too realistic. It had pleased her very much, that was plain to see.

  The twins dressed quickly and left the bedroom. They waited patiently in the kitchen. After a few more minutes, Solomon came through and handed them each a bundle of notes.

  ‘Thank you ladies, that was excellent as usual. I will call you again in a couple of week’s time. There’s a little extra for you to get a taxi home, I don’t want you walking about at this time of night.’

  The girls thanked him and moved towards the front door. Such a thoughtful man, they always said to each other.

  Solomon closed the front door after they had gone out. He was tired. It had been an eventful day. He needed to get an early night and plenty of sleep. The next part of his plan required careful thought. It was important to keep a low profile for the next few weeks. He didn’t want to attract any attention to himself so soon after the apparent suicide of agent Oxley.

  Also, he wanted to be fresh and alert when he eventually paid a visit to the home of Mr. Cole.

  Author’s Note!

  For the original version of this book I wrote another chapter which involved more exploits of the Siamese Twins, Li and Cho.

  As you will already know they were very keen to please Solomon.

  After much consideration, I removed this chapter from the book, as it was quite sexually explicit, and went into areas that some readers might have found uncomfortable.

  The good news is that I still have that original chapter.

  If you would like me to forward to you the Siamese Twins Chapter, then simply email me and I will send it directly back to you.

  kevbradley999@gmail.com

  I look forward to hearing from you.

  Regards

  Kevin Bradley

  Chapter Five

  The postman walked along the road at a gentle pace. He was dressed in black cotton trousers, and a dark fleece jacket. Over this he wore a high-visibility, orange coloured sleeveless top. On his shoulder he carried a large red Post Office bag, and in his left hand he was carrying several A4 size envelopes.

  He had almost reached the front of a large, imposing cathedral on his right, but before he did so, he turned left into a narrow lane with the name Churchgate Street. Although he had studied the area on a very detailed Ordnance Survey map, he was not actually very familiar with the town of Bury St Edmunds.

  No one would have known that though. All they would have seen was a confident looking postman striding along the road. He stopped abruptly and read the name on the front of a house. It was an old dwelling, with a large, bright red, wooden door. The house itself was tall, and consisted of a three storey building, probably also with a basement he thought.

  He pushed the letters he was holding through the vertical brass flap that was on the right hand side of the door, set at about the height of his waist. Instead of moving on though, he stood still for a moment, looking first to his left and then to his right. It was half past six in the morning and the street was quiet. This is what he had anticipated.

  Satisfied that he was not being observed, he quickly opened the top of his bag and pulled out a short length of green coloured, plastic pipe. He fed the end of this pipe through the brass letterbox. Next, he pushed his right arm hard against the bag he was holding, and a jet of fluid was forced through the pipe. It sprayed out onto the carpeted floor of the hallway of the house. The postman then fished a small object out of his pocket, flicked it with his thumb, and pushed this through the letterbox.

  Almost immediately, the man heard a faint ‘whoomph’ noise and then he saw a yellow and red flickering through a small patterned window pane, set in the top half of the door.

  He smiled to himself, closed the flap on his bag, and walked off as fast as he could down the lane. He felt the urge to try and walk faster, but that would just have attracted undue attention. Anyway, he was going about as fast as he could. The limp in his left leg was restricting his pace. At the top of the road he looked back. He could see smoke coming out from the front door of the house, presumably from where the door seals had already melted, leaving spaces between the door and its frame.

  He pulled a small, old style Nokia phone from the pocket of his fleece, and dialled a short number. Pressing the keys on the handset was slightly awkward as he was wearing thin, plastic gloves on his hands.

  He spoke quietly into the phone. ‘Fire Service please.’ He gave brief answers to the questions he was asked by the operator, before hanging up on the call. Turning round, he quickly spotted what he was looking for. He walked several paces forward, leaned down and dropped the phone into a water drain on the side of the cobbled road. He took one more look behind him, and then strolled off in the direction of the town centre.

  The main fire station for Bury St Edmunds is less than two miles away from Churchgate Street. It wasn’t surprising therefore, that within fifteen minutes of the fire taking hold, there were two red fire engines parked just down from the property. Both had their water hoses rolled out and the crews were ready to tackle the fire.

  The hallway carpet had burnt very quickly, and the flames had rapidly spread across the whole of the ground floor of the dwelling. Smoke was pouring up the main stairwell. The master bedroom was on the middle floor, and it was now full of thick, poisonous fumes. Anyone who had not already managed to escape from that room would by now have suffocated. Fortunately there was no one sleeping in that part of the house on that particular morning. The owner of the dwelling, and his partner, had gone to London the previous evening to see a West End show. They were staying overnight in the capital, and were due to return home later that day.

  The three occupants of the house were all sleeping on the top floor. It was the babysitter who woke up first. She was roused by the smell of burning fabric, and had also started to feel the burning sensation on the back of her throat each time she tried to inhale.

  She leapt out of bed. ‘The children,’ she shouted to herself.

  When she reached their room, Milly and Sasha were still asleep. She woke Milly first, shaking her shoulders until her eyes flicked open.

  ‘Wake up. There’s a fire in the house. We need to get out.’

  Milly was only six years old. She looked terrified, and started to cry. The babysitter pulled her across the room to the other bed, where Milly’s two year old sister was still asleep. The babysitter lifted the younger girl in her arms and pushed Milly towards the bedroom door.

  The fire had now taken hold on the middle floor, and thick smoke had engulfed the stairwell. The babysitter had no choice. She ran away from the stairwell towards the front window on the top floor. She pulled the six year old along with her. The window opened easily, and the girl leaned out and started shouting for help. She could see a few people had gathered in the street below, and the police were holding them back. The fire crew were busy spraying water under high pressure into the ground floor of the building.

  Seeing the girls at the window, the firemen moved in closer with one of their vehicles and raised the extended ladder towards the top floor window. One of the firemen quickly scaled the ladder, took hold of the youngest girl, and slowly started to descend back to street level. He did this two more times in quick succession, and
within three minutes, all three girls had been rescued and were safely on the ground. Two very friendly policewomen were looking after them.

  ‘That was a lucky escape you had there. Do you know what might have started the fire?’ said one of the female police officers.’

  The babysitter just looked at her, shook her head slowly, and then burst into tears.

  Chapter Six

  The house was a mess.

  Not completely wrecked though, due to the quick action of a neighbour calling the emergency services, so the police had explained. The owners were told that they would not be able to go back into the property for quite a while, as it was now the scene of a criminal investigation. So they moved in with some good friends who lived nearby, just thankful that their two children had not been injured, or worse.

  The police had spent three days going through the house in minute detail. They had been all over the building, mostly on their hands and knees. A lot of potential evidence had been accumulated and carefully bagged up. Their initial review concluded that it was arson, probably started on the ground floor, near the front door. Then they sealed up the doors and windows, and waited for further results from the detailed laboratory analysis. That could take several weeks, so they told the owners.

  Two days after the front door had been boarded up, just before nine o’clock in the evening, a short man in a long, dark coat walked slowly down the street. The area was almost deserted, with just the occasional person out either walking their dog, or making the short journey to the local public house. It was a warm evening, and a gentle breeze blew along the street, stirring the small amounts of litter discarded along the pavement.

  The man was carrying a large holdall. He passed by the burnt out house, and turned into the narrow alleyway between it and the next building. He made his way around to the back of the house, squeezed through a small gap in the fence, and found himself in a small back yard. He carefully pulled a wooden board off one of the ground floor windows, and climbed into the blackened building.

  The air inside smelt of burnt wood, and the atmosphere was dank. He made his way to the stairwell, now just a series of charred wooden steps. He tested his weight on the first step. It was still strong. The fire had been extinguished quickly, and so the wood was charred rather than burnt through.

  Taking his time, he made his way to the top floor and settled himself in the bedroom at the front of the house. He pulled some blankets out of his holdall, along with a drinking flask and several sealed bags containing various items of food. Finally he took a small telescope and a digital camera from the bag.

  He looked out across the street.

  ‘Perfect,’ he said to himself.

  From where he sat, he could clearly see the house diagonally across the narrow lane. It was similar in construction to the burnt out dwelling he was now in. There were three storeys, each with two windows looking out on to the street. The windows were all dressed with floral patterned curtains, all closed now for the evening.

  The man was staring closely at the house across from him. He was talking out loud, but only he could hear what he was saying.

  ‘So Mr. Cole, where are you? More importantly, where is your beautiful wife?’

  He had been waiting a long time for this moment. It was going to be the end point of months of planning, and years of searching.

  He had been wronged, very badly. The memory of it had stayed with him for many years. It had gradually eaten away at him, turning him into what he had now become. He had felt deep anger, terrible frustration, and a consuming desire to have his revenge.

  ‘I am afraid that I must take your woman from you,’ Solomon murmured quietly to himself. ‘Then, at last, my pain will hopefully be extinguished.’

  Chapter Seven

  Cole was getting angry.

  He had been arguing with the Prime Minister’s private secretary at Downing Street. He was trying to get in to see the head of the Her Majesty’s Government, but Victoria Pembroke was having none of it.

  ‘The PM doesn’t just see anyone without an appointment you know.’ She said, in her delightful West Country accent.

  ‘Listen Vicky ..,’ started Cole.

  ‘Victoria, please,’ she corrected him.

  ‘Victoria, Victoria. I need to see him today. I am not just anybody. I work directly for Number ten, and take my orders directly from the PM. Do you have any idea what I’m working on right now?’

  ‘Please enlighten me, it must be really important,’ she said sarcastically.

  ‘Vicky ..,’

  ‘Victoria, please.’

  ‘Victoria.’ There was a hint of real annoyance in his voice now. ‘I could tell you what I’ve been doing recently, but then I would have to kill you, as the saying goes. And I must admit, right now that does sound rather tempting.’

  She raised her eyebrows at him, but kept smiling. ‘I think he quite fancies me,’ she thought secretly to herself.

  She looked him up and down again. He was quite a handsome man, for his age, which was probably about early forties, she thought. His hair was short and dark brown, and his face was rugged and well tanned. As a big fan of the sport of rugby, she compared him to the fit but tough kind of physique you would see on a full back, or fly half. She was trying to imagine what he would look like naked. The thought of him making love to her suddenly came into her head. Involuntarily, she ran her wet tongue across her bottom lip. She was studying his mouth. His lips were moving as he talked, but she wasn’t listening. Her eyes were focused on the tip of his tongue. She was trying to sense just how delicious it would feel if his tongue was being used to part the lips of her vagina.

  She sensed that her thoughts were making her slightly wet between her legs. Her breathing started to quicken, and her nipples seemed to harden underneath her blouse.

  She suddenly felt a little embarrassed, and looking down at her desk, she quickly tried to compose herself.

  He was still talking.

  ‘Ok, I’ll tell you what I’ve been involved with recently then. Did you read about the aborted nuclear test in Iran three days ago? There was an explosion in one of the control rooms at the test site. Most of the building was destroyed. Two Iranian operatives were killed, but more importantly, the planned test has been indefinitely postponed.’

  ‘Yes, I read about it, of course. There was an article in the Sunday Times. It was an accident apparently. Tehran did a complete review, and there was an equipment malfunction. That’s all.’

  ‘That’s not all,’ contradicted Cole. ‘I set the plastic explosive. That was after spending almost a week living under a dirty, cotton sheet in the desert. I ran out of food after two days, and finished the last of my water on day four. Have you ever drunk your own piss? It tastes disgusting, and makes your breath smell foul.’

  ‘No, I don’t believe that I have,’ she replied sarcastically. ‘Anyway, I hardly think that you were involved in that. You’re making it up.’

  ‘Well you believe what you like. I was there. The PM sent me. He asked me to try not to incur casualties, but it was impossible not to. One of the Iranian’s didn’t die in the explosion, although he had terrible burns. His body was a smouldering mess, with molten plastic covering most of his arms and face. His screaming was horrific, so I put him out of his misery.’

  ‘You murdered a man in cold blood?’ Vicky didn’t want to believe it.

  ‘Well, I dropped a concrete beam on his head. It squashed his skull like an overripe melon, and killed him instantly.’

  Victoria shook her head slowly. ‘What a pleasant man you are Mr. Cole.’

  Cole laughed. ‘He was one of many, my dear Victoria. Now get me five minutes with the PM. He needs to hear what I have got to say.’

  The private secretary rose from her desk slowly and walked off down the hallway to the Prime Minister’s office.

  Cole watched her go. Although she was irritating, secretly he quite fancied her. She was attractive, in a prim sort of way, and int
elligent. She intrigued him. He had heard about some of her odd habits. Like, for relaxation, she would occasionally drive for miles out into the countryside. There, she would find a quiet lay by, lock the car doors, and just sit in the vehicle and read a novel all afternoon.

  ‘Very quirky,’ he thought to himself. He would have quite liked to be locked in a car with Victoria Pembroke. When he had finished with her though, he doubted if she would have any energy left for reading.

  He walked over to a table where there was a jug of fresh water. He was about to pour himself a drink, when his cell phone rang. He looked at the display and it read ‘number unknown.’ This was hardly surprising, as all the calls he received came up with the same message. He never recorded anyone’s number in his contacts. It was a security thing, and a habit.

  ‘This is Cole,’ he said into the phone.

  He listened intently for around twenty seconds. If anyone had been watching him, they would have said that his face showed severe shock, his grip on the phone had tightened, and all colour had drained out of his cheeks.

  ‘I hope for your sake this isn’t some kind of sick joke.’ There was a genuine threat in his voice.

  The caller was talking again.

  ‘When did it happen exactly? Cole was gripping the phone so hard that his knuckles had turned white.

  ‘Oh my god, I’m heading back right now.’

  Cole shot out of the office and ran down the corridor to the entrance of the building.

  Victoria was returning to her office at the same time and she saw him running off. ‘Mr. Cole, the Prime Minister will see you now. You have ten minutes only. Hey, where are you going?’

  Cole didn’t look back. ‘Forget that. I have to get back home. I’ll catch him some other time.’