by Anthony Fox
Slowly, the young man opened his eyes to see Russo pointing a gun at him.
‘Please, my name’s Charlie, I was kidnapped at the train station. I’m not supposed to be here.’ The young man made no attempt to move, and could only look up at Russo.
‘Please, I don’t want to die,’ he sobbed. Then the frightened figure closed his eyes again and screwed them tight as Russo pulled back on the trigger and fired his third shot.
Blood splatted all around the underside of the bed and Charlie’s sobbing stopped instantly.
As Russo stood up he caught a flash in the corner of the room. Something appeared out of nowhere and ran towards the bedroom door. Russo raised his pistol but the small figure was through the door too quickly.
***
Assia made it through the door and out of the bedroom as she saw the man coming towards her.
She moved backwards into the lounge, stumbling on fallen debris as she kept her eyes fixed on the door. It opened as she took another step back and the ground beneath her feet suddenly changed. Something felt different. Assia looked down and turned to see she’d backed straight into where the explosion had blown away the front of the apartment.
Her heels were at the very edge of the building.
All that came after was the cool open air. She looked at the street outside and the night sky.
Looking down, Assia could see it was a hell of a drop from her position on the second floor to the grass of the front garden below. One of the cherry trees on the street directly outside had caught fire and now it spread to a second. The leaves were glowing in the night looking like the burning bush from the biblical tale.
Assia turned back into the apartment to see the spiky-haired man coming through the bedroom door and looking round for her.
Without hesitation he raised the gun. Assia turned away, crouched down as low as she could, used one hand to push herself off, and jumped from the ledge, out of the apartment and into the night.
Time seemed to stop for a moment as she hung in the air, her summer dress flailing in the wind, the grass swiftly coming towards her.
Assia tried her best to brace herself. She landed hard. Her knees bent with the impact and she let her body’s natural momentum carry her weight to the side as she crumpled to the ground.
As athletic as she was, the fall was too great for her body.
Upon impact with the grass, she felt her right knee explode. Assia screamed in pain. She lay writhing on the grass, both hands clutching her knee, clenching her teeth and trying desperately to crawl away.
Looking back up from where she’d jumped, Assia saw the man with the night vision goggles appear through the smoke at the edge of the hole in the building. He looked down at Assia lying on the ground, aimed his gun at her, and the fourth and final shot rang out into the night.
37
The two trees continued to burn, then a third one caught fire and began to crackle. The orange and pink and green leaves flashed alight, then quickly charred and died as they turned to ash. The noise of the wind gave the haunting impression that the trees were crying in pain as they burned alive.
It was the strangest thing: as the crack of the shot rang out, cutting through all the other noise, Assia instinctively tensed in anticipation of the bullet. She stayed in this tense state for just a second until she realised she wasn’t hit. At the same time as the man on the ledge took aim, a shot from somewhere else was fired. The head of the spiky-haired man snapped violently back as a small amount of blood spurted out from his neck. He fell backwards into the apartment. Assia stared where the figure had been, trying to make sense of what was happening, still unsure if she were alive or dead.
Suddenly she felt strong hands dragging her across the grass.
‘Let go!’
‘Be quiet,’ said a gentle but firm voice as her body was lifted clean off the ground. She looked up to see the man from the train – the same one who’d burst into her life a few hours ago when he stepped through the door of her cabin and killed the man who’d attacked him. The same man who’d brought her here. He was now carrying Assia easily across the driveway and out onto the street. For the first time Assia became aware of the distant sound of sirens.
Whilst locked in the bedroom Assia heard the people in the apartment call this man Matthews, complaining that he’d brought herself and Charlie here and then run off after someone called Connelly.
As Matthews continued to carry her down the street Assia remembered the excruciating pain in her leg. She looked down to see a large, odd lump next to her knee. The lump was at a strange angle and looked like two knees in the same leg. Assia clutched the swelling tightly with both hands and began to scream again.
***
Matthews walked quickly down the street, aware of all the neighbours roused by the chaos. He felt the pistol he’d taken from Connelly against his spine, where it was tucked into the waistband of his trousers. The suppressor was sticking out of his trouser pocket and felt clunky as he walked. He’d removed it from the gun so it wouldn’t affect his accuracy as he shot the man standing in the apartment. Even with the goggles and the smoke and the dark light, Matthews recognised the man as the same one who’d been with Luque and Connelly earlier. The tall, spiky hair was a dead giveaway.
Matthews also realised now why the heavy rectangular bag the man carried gave him such an uneasy feeling. It was an IED – an Improvised Explosive Device. Constructed from home-made or military-grade explosives, they were common in Afghanistan. Often built with old artillery shells, this one was clearly packaged into something a little more sophisticated.
Some way down the street he finally reached the old Ford Focus the team were using to surveil Luque. Matthews dropped Assia unceremoniously on the bonnet and moved round to the side of the car. He crouched and wriggled his body under, reached his hand up to where he knew the keys were hidden. Placing Assia on the back seat, he got into the driver’s side, put the suppressor on the passenger seat and pulled the pistol from his waistband and put it in his lap.
Matthews adjusted the seat and put on his seat belt, checked his mirrors and put the keys in the ignition. But instead of starting the engine, he lowered the electric windows all the way down to the bottom, sat perfectly still and listened.
And there he stayed, not moving, just listening, as the sounds of the police sirens grew louder and louder around them.
***
The pain in her knee was excruciating, but Assia’s experiences equipped her to handle such a thing better than most people, and she was beginning to deal with the pain a little. She covered it with her dress as the sight of it made bile rise to her throat. It seemed to help – psychologically, at least. She raised her head slightly from the back seat and looking out of the windows she couldn’t see any flashing lights yet, but judging by the growing sounds Assia knew the emergency services couldn’t be far away. People were cautiously stepping out of their houses now, although they seemed reluctant to go more than a few steps along their driveways until the police arrived.
Assia looked at the back of Matthews’ head. He sat still in the driver’s seat as if he were asleep. She got the sense he may even have his eyes closed, although as she could only see the back of his head Assia had nothing to base this suspicion on. Most of the car alarms on the street were being silenced and there was surprisingly little noise now, save for the approaching sirens. She desperately wanted the ambulance service to arrive. To take her to the nearest hospital. But with this man in control she didn’t think it likely.
‘Why aren’t we moving?’ Assia asked.
No response.
‘Aren’t you going back for your friends?’
‘They’re already dead.’
‘How can you be sure?’
No response.
‘What if there’s another bomb?’ she persisted.
‘Shhh,’ Matthews replied sharply.
She’d no idea how he could be so calm. Her heart felt as if it was going at a t
housand beats a minute.
38
He looked at his watch, leaned to the side and stuck his head out the window.
Come on, where are you?
He brought his head back in, reached down into the driver’s door pocket and produced a small local map that he unfolded and began to study.
‘What are you listening for?’ Assia asked.
‘Car engine,’ he answered. ‘They had to arrive by car, with the time it took them. He’ll go back after the blast and wait for his man to go through and finish everybody.’ Matthews paused and listened. ‘He won’t be able to wait much longer. Soon he’ll realise his man isn’t coming back.’
Matthews finished talking and Assia lay still.
He heard a car engine. Matthews’ body stiffened and he concentrated hard on the windscreen and the rear-view mirror simultaneously. A moment later a single car pulled out of a parking space much further down on the same side of the street they were on, and immediately took a left turn and disappeared. Matthews fired up the engine, put the car in gear and gunned it out of the parking space and down the street.
People outside their houses looked on anxiously as the car flew past, accelerating. Then Matthews braked at the same corner that Luque turned down and in his mirror saw Assia nearly fall forward into the footwell, bracing herself with her arms to stop herself and growling at the pain in her knee.
Matthews reached the corner just in time to see the headlights up ahead turn right. After quickly looking at the map to refresh his memory, Matthews was confident at least for the moment he had a good idea of which roads Luque would be taking. He steadied his speed, content Luque would drive carefully so as not to draw attention to himself. Flashing blue and red lights could been seen up ahead and they passed two police cars, an ambulance and two fire engines.
The men and women in the emergency vehicles drove on without looking back.
‘Just let me go. Drop me out here and I can take care of myself,’ said Assia from the backseat.
‘Can’t. You’ll still be in danger if they know you’re alive. You won’t stand a chance, not even with the police, not while you can’t walk,’ Matthews told her without turning round. ‘I’ll get you a doctor,’ he promised.
Matthews had the car in his sights now and continued to follow Luque at a safe distance as the arms dealer led him out of the urban area onto the autobahn and then heading out of the city. Once he was in a comfortable position, Matthews took one hand off the wheel and pulled out a phone. He typed in a number from memory and put the phone to his ear.
‘Grandad, it’s me,’ Matthews said after a long wait, trying to ignore the fact Assia could hear him from the back seat.
‘Listen, there’s been an incident and I need you tonight. I’m en route out of town and need to lie low for a day or two. No, I’m not alone. Got one female with me with a damaged knee, so have a doctor with you when we meet. Don’t know what time it’ll be, or where, just be ready and I’ll call you.’ Matthews hung up and put his phone back in his pocket.
Luque turned off the motorway.
He took a side track and headed down an old dirt road.
Matthews looked on ahead. It appeared Luque was heading into open farmland.
Matthews followed. He increased his speed and started to close the distance to Luque as much as he dared, then when the visibility became poor due to a lack of street lights, Matthews turned his headlights off completely. He had no choice. Luque’s car was now the only source of illumination. Without headlights, on the dirt road in pitch blackness, the journey was tough going. They hit every bump and hole hard as the small car bounced along. In his mirror he saw Assia bite her lip to stop from yelling in pain. Luque began to pull away as Matthews reduced his speed accordingly, but it was the only way to prevent the arms dealer seeing his tail.
Matthews had a pretty good idea what Luque was up to. Putting himself in the mind of his target, after Luque heard from Connelly that Jenkins was out of the game and the team were still onto him, he’d taken immediate steps to eliminate his pursuers. The speed and sheer decisiveness with which Luque did this told Matthews the big Venezuelan felt he needed to move fast to cover his tracks. The next logical step was to destroy any evidence.
Luque would’ve set up a place where he could brief Jenkins on the job he’d been hired for. This place would have been prepped and ready to go. Instructions, files, maybe even blueprints, photos, videos, the whole thing. Matthews believed Luque was now heading to that place to destroy it and all the evidence of the mission. Matthews needed to get there – and he needed that information.
The others thought all along that Luque was not just the target of the operation, but the only target, the end game. But Matthews knew Luque was controlled by a far more dangerous man. Whatever Luque and Jenkins were planning, they were the only ones that could lead Matthews to Caracas.
Through the dark, open farmland they reached a large, grey stone farmhouse with an outhouse attached.
Matthews lost Luque’s headlights suddenly in the distance. He increased his speed until he got close to where he’d last seen the car and then slowed right down.
Another two farmhouses appeared in front of them. All three buildings were detached from each other with a large fenced area surrounding each. They appeared abandoned. No cars. No lights. Next to the last house was a small cluster of agricultural vehicles and then came two large barns a little further along.
Matthews lowered all the windows again and listened. The night was deathly quiet. Driving this slowly, his tyres made minimal noise on the dirt road. Next they passed through a long row of stables and moved forward into complete darkness. There was nothing ahead except a flat dirt road and grass. Matthews spun the car around.
He headed back to where the stables began again and moved even slower over the ground. This time Matthews thought he could hear a faint noise. He listened hard, but it was barely there, and he wondered if perhaps his hearing was playing a trick on him. Suddenly he spotted something and brought the vehicle to an instant stop.
He heard Assia hold her breath. Matthews reversed a few metres to the third farmhouse and waited. A second later his ears picked up the noise again, only this time a little louder. Matthews knew his hearing wasn’t tricking him. He recognised the sound now as a faint plume of smoke appeared from behind the last house. Matthews quickly spun the car to the side and jumped out.
‘Stay here,’ he told Assia as he grabbed the pistol and ran towards the tiny wisps of smoke.
‘Not like I can go anywhere,’ said Assia to the dust left behind in Matthews’ wake.
Matthews crept to the back of the large barn and spotted Luque’s empty car parked to one side. He edged forward and saw a smaller wooden barn hiding at the back. It was this smaller barn Matthews now saw was the source of the tiny wisps of smoke.
Obviously the fire inside the barn was still in its first stages. Luque had arrived no more than a minute earlier. The barn was hidden behind the house and wouldn’t be visible from the dirt road if not for the smoke.
That smoke now developed into an orange glow.
The fire inside the barn was deliberately lit, as opposed to a cigarette left to slowly smoke away or a candle catching the bottom of the curtains, and the barn was made of wood, all meaning the fire would surely take hold quickly. No doubt Luque would’ve put everything in place to burn the barn as a failsafe, a back-up, in case his mission was compromised.
Matthews needed to be cautious. Luque was close by. So he stayed low and checked his surroundings for any shafts of light in the dark. Any irregular noises. Anything he didn’t like.
As cautious as Matthews wanted to be, he had to get in that barn. And it must be now.
I have to save any evidence, get any information, anything that will provide the link to Caracas.
Matthews approached with vigilance, then seeing nothing he slid the barn door open and went inside.
The bonfire smell hit him immediately. He saw
a simple, square structure made from solid timber with grass and dirt for floor. The space inside was set up as a makeshift office. Matthews’ gaze was drawn to a table and chair to one side, against a wall with a huge notice board mounted just above them that filled half the wall. Various notes along with maps, aerial shots and pictures were pinned to the notice board. It looked like the wall of a police station that had been set up to piece together a criminal investigation. Underneath the table was a large metal rubbish bin filled with what looked like two paper files set on fire.
Matthews could see two shotguns and an assault rifle propped up in one corner, with what looked like a few other pistols and some other objects dotted around the ground near them.
Matthews didn’t bother to spend any more time looking around. Luque was nowhere to be seen, and the fire must have been started on the side wall where the table, chair and notice board were. It was spreading quickly and the heat inside the barn was becoming intense.
Matthews put a hand over his mouth, ran to the table and picked up the metal rubbish bin. He felt its heat as he tipped the burning files onto the floor and stamped them out. He grabbed whatever evidence he could through the growing smoke and flames from the wooden barn wall in front of him and stuffed them into the bin. Closing his eyes against the stinging smoke, he just managed to bend and grab the charred files before he retreated to the door as it all became too much. Still holding the bin he took a few steps outside until the air cleared around him a little. He fell to his knees.
Coughing and spitting, he dropped the bin and files as he used his hands to wipe his stinging eyes and mouth. The sound of a bullet striking the ground next to him, then another being fired, made Matthews roll to his side, drawing Connelly’s pistol from behind his back as he moved. A third bullet fizzed past his head as Matthews came to rest on one knee and quickly fired off four shots of his own in the direction the attack came from.