The Last Book. A Thriller

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The Last Book. A Thriller Page 26

by Michael Collins


  Sam looked at him sadly.

  ‘No Ethan, it was his shot that got him. He just feels bad for you despite what your brother did to his wife. Ben had every reason to kill him for that, but told me the other day that he’d lost the desire for revenge. Although it was a tough call—it was the right one. And Payne still managed to get out of Dodge,’ she added.

  ‘How?’ Ethan asked, turning away from the body at his feet. He felt a deepening numbness stealing over him. Whatever remained of the Joey he knew had now long gone.

  ‘The crafty old weasel had a car ready in the next garage,’ Sam said, watching him. ‘It even had an entry away from the road at the front—the one we had sealed off. He exited straight onto the main drag and disappeared in a little silver number. We’ve got an APB out and the cops here are throwing road blocks up as quickly as they can. Ben blames himself for this mess.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Ethan said, ‘what else could anyone have done?’

  Sam nodded her head.

  ‘I agree,’ she said, ‘but after I went down the stairs like a bull at a gate, he pulled me back from storming into the garage. He instinctively knew there was a trap. By that time, it was too late and your brother caught us off-guard. Payne was waiting to grab me and we were in deep shit until you appeared. They were going to kill us both and bolt in the car.’

  ‘That was an incredible double-act you had with Ben,’ Ethan said, genuinely impressed.

  ‘Well, we train for that sort of thing all the time,’ Sam smiled, ‘although it never seems to happen in real life ...’

  ‘…Until now,’ he finished for her.

  ‘Until now,’ she agreed, ‘although the absolute truth is, what did we have to lose? We were all about to be shot. I just wish we’d collared that bastard, that’s all.’

  Ethan shook his head, trying to think straight.

  ‘He flew in here from Andrews, which means a military aircraft.’

  Sam stared at him and then her face brightened.

  ‘Right—got it,’ she said, lifting her smartcom to her mouth.

  Ethan left her to it, walking across to where Ben was standing staring at his smartcom screen, and put his hand on the man’s shoulder.

  ‘Vengeance wasn’t part of it,’ Ben said, without looking at him.

  ‘I understand, I really do,’ Ethan said. ‘Sam told me. And thanks for getting us out of that. You did good.’

  ‘How come he didn’t know you were his brother until just then?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Cross was the name of my adoptive parents. I took their name when they hooked me out of the institute.’

  ‘Aah, that’s why we couldn’t get much on your background,’ Ben said. ‘We knew him as Joe Standen.’

  ‘If I’d known it was my brother, we might have had an entirely different ending to this,’ Ethan said.

  ‘I just wish it could have been a different outcome for Nan. She was married with two little kids,’ Ben said.

  With a shock, Ethan remembered the young woman who’d died so quickly in front of him. Finding Joey and then seeing him fade away had jolted the brave policewoman from his mind. He felt a wave of remorse.

  ‘That was my fault,’ Ethan said. ‘I insisted on coming down here.’

  ‘She knew the risks and made a call. If she hadn’t, the place would have a lot more dead good guys in it,’ Ben said. ‘Look, this might cheer us up, though,’ he added, holding up his smartcom screen.

  A tiny blue pinpoint of light pulsed from a maze of streets.

  ‘Sarah?’ Ethan asked, a huge flutter of relief surging through his guts.

  ‘Her finder has just woken up,’ Ben said. ‘It was off air for ages and the techs thought it had been damaged. Are you ready to go?’

  32.

  A loose cannon

  The man was burly and strong, stinking of stale cigarettes, beer, and something else very rotten. Lifting Sarah off her feet with no more effort than picking up a twig, he carried her kicking wildly into a narrow alley. He paused long enough to look around before grunting as his right foot lashed out to connect with a door. It shuddered, holding. He kicked twice more before the timber frame splintered with a loud bang, a sound immediately swallowed by the cacophony from the street beyond. She knew that if she didn’t act now, she was lost.

  ‘Get real, bitch,’ he shouted, as their progress into the premises was interrupted. Ignoring the shards of wood tearing at her fingers, Sarah was gripping the door jambs with all her strength. With a vicious swipe he punched her in the midriff and she had to let go. The pain was staggering and she struggled to breathe. All this, she thought, feeling the tears of frustration and pain hot on her cheeks, and then to be raped by some moron on steroids.

  Sarah hung limply in his arms as he barged his way from room to room looking for something. Finding a narrow set of stairs, he stomped up them.

  ‘Finally,’ he cawed.

  Sarah felt herself being hoisted through the air. Bracing for a painful impact, she was surprised when she landed on a mattress, almost laughing with relief before she realized that her captor no doubt preferred to start with undamaged goods. She scrambled to the head of the makeshift bed, pressing herself against the wall. The man stared down at her, flicking his tongue obscenely. He unbuckled his heavily studded belt and snapped it in her direction. He laughed. He had all the time in the world.

  ‘I’ll be leaving my boots on, if that’s alright darlin’,’ he sneered.

  ‘I’ve shit my pants,’ Sarah snapped, hoping to put him off. ‘And I’ve got my period—blood and crap everywhere.’

  The man’s face lit up with a grin, twisting some of the tattoos close to his mouth into a grotesque parody of a clown.

  ‘Yankee bitch, eh,’ he said, showing his black teeth. ‘I’ve never fucked a Yank. Who cares what you’ve done in your pants, you stupid fuckin’ Sheila. I’ve got something very special for you, bitch,’ he said, now almost fully undressed, ‘you’re going to get a dose of AIDS.’

  Galvanized, Sarah leapt from the mattress, darting for the door. He was ready for her, grabbing her hair from behind and swinging her through an excruciating arc of pain to land back on the mattress. Feeling like a hunted animal, she swept her eyes around the room, looking for something—any possible weapon.

  He laughed, lunging towards her and she screamed. She felt the sting of a heavy blow to her jaw, snapping her head to one side. As she lay stunned and unable to move, he scrabbled hurriedly with her clothing, panting hot, cloying breath over her face as he tore off her panties. She moaned, tasting saltiness in her mouth as a rough hand flung her legs apart. Desperately she raised a fist, but it was easily grasped and pinned against the mattress with her other hand. With a quiet sob, she braced herself.

  *

  Ethan was glad that Ben had urged him to shed his body amour. As soon as they both exited the van, he could see that being identified as law enforcement by big bright letters on their backs would have got them into all sorts of trouble.

  It was a full-blown riot. Hundreds of people, from no specific demographic that he could see, had taken to the streets to either watch or take part in the looting and fighting. Ethan could see teams of police in riot gear in tight knots, but there was too much happening for them to do anything but defend themselves. Staying close to him, eyes glued to his smartcom screen, Ben muttered that the cops were probably waiting for reinforcements before attempting to get stuck in—perhaps even from the military. They certainly looked nervous, Ethan thought. With riot shields up and visors down, they were fending off makeshift spears and rubble flying at them from all directions.

  ‘We better be quick,’ Ben said, above the racket. ‘When the cavalry get here, hell’s going to break out.’

  ‘Won’t they calm it down?’ Ethan asked, ducking as a half brick flew over his shoulder, leaving a dent in the side of the van.

  ‘Not from my experience,’ Ben said, ‘not at first anyway. As soon as help gets here, those coppers will wa
nt to vent their rage and frustration, running down everything in front of them. A heap of people will get bashed just for being on the street, whether they’re guilty of anything or not.’

  Almost to underpin Ben’s words, they watched as two youths who’d been taunting a dark-skinned young woman holding a child close to her body was knocked to the ground. As Ethan and Ben moved to help her, an elderly man appeared from a doorway and stood over the stricken woman, waving his walking stick at her attackers. Suddenly, four cops detached themselves from their main group and jogged into the fracas. The youths turned towards the advancing police but, for them, it was too late. Batons rose and fell with sickening speed as the young men were beaten to the ground and then pummeled by steel-toed boots. Ethan ducked under a swinging baton to reach the woman, pulling her roughly to her feet and then, keeping her head and shoulders protected by his body, ran her back across the road.

  Panting heavily, he looked back. Ben, forced back from the old man by a flurry of blows, appeared to be trying to shout something at the cops as he pointed at the old man. But, with their faces set in hard and angry lines, they ignored his words, continuing to jab at him as he stepped away. Horrified, Ethan clearly saw what happened next.

  He was watching Ben running back towards them when he noticed the old man slumping against a shop window with a look of surprise on his blood-drenched features. In slow motion, the man slithered down the glass and crumpled to the sidewalk. Sickened, Ethan realized that the only people remaining standing in the man’s vicinity were the police, the youths already beaten to a pulp.

  Ben looked back and swore.

  ‘They wouldn’t fucking listen,’ he said, bending to catch his breath.

  ‘I tried to tell them,’ the woman said, her muffled voice coming from under Ethan’s arm.

  ‘I know, I know,’ Ben said, patting the woman’s back, ‘so did I. Is your kiddie OK?’

  The woman nodded and sniffed.

  ‘She’s fine, but the lady that rescued me, she’s from America like you. I tried to tell the cops about her, but they told me to get off the streets.’

  ‘What lady?’ Ethan asked, trying to keep his voice level. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Over there,’ the woman said, pointing at an alleyway. ‘A big man grabbed her when she was helping me. We were running from them,’ she added, indicating the youths lying on the sidewalk.’

  Ben unlocked the van and, opening the rear door, helped the woman inside.

  ‘Keep very quiet and out of sight,’ he told her, ‘and don’t worry, we won’t be long.’

  *

  When they discovered the shattered door, Ethan’s heart began to thunder and it was all he could do to stop himself pushing Ben out the way and rushing in ahead. Ben turned to him briefly to lift a finger to his lips and then, drawing his handgun, stepped carefully across the debris into the premises. They found themselves in a kitchen. Apart from the mess on the floor, it was clean and obviously hadn’t been used for a while.

  Ben was moving so slowly that Ethan wanted to scream. If he was reacting to the situation back in the garage, and applying extra caution this time, Ethan thought, this wasn’t the time. Anything could be happening to Sarah right now as they carefully crept through this place. The possibility that something terrible had gone down was almost too real to contemplate. Yet Ethan knew that this mess and whatever he’d done to get her into it would haunt him for the rest of his days. Payne’s words had been hammering through his brain since he’d told them that they’d been taken for suckers. They’d been set up from the beginning, and even if Payne hadn’t had any idea of Ethan’s own agenda, he’d been cunning enough to anticipate the need for an elaborate and brilliantly executed sting. He’d out-maneuvered them all.

  They both paused and listened intently as a creak disturbed the silence. Ben moved again, and then stopped at the foot of a short flight of stairs. Ethan felt Ben’s eyes on his face and realized that he was silently asking him if he thought the sound had come from up or down. Ethan lifted his eyes to the ceiling and Ben nodded, turning back to the stairs and beginning to creep up.

  It all happened so quickly. Almost at the top, it occurred to Ethan that he was too close to Ben’s back. But, before he could move away, he saw a boot fly straight into the side of Ben’s head. When Ben flew backwards under the impact, he was unable to dodge him, and both of them crashed backwards landing badly winded on the bottom stair.

  Dazed, and trapped by Ben’s weight on top of him, Ethan looked up to see a large, heavily tattooed man crouched over Ben with a fistful of hair in one hand and a long-bladed knife in the other. At the same time that he stretched Ben’s neck taut and bent to slice at his throat, Ethan saw Ben’s firearm lying on the floor five inches from his hand. Without thinking, he snatched it up, pointed it at the man’s face and pulled the trigger.

  In the following silence, the man’s eyes turned to him, expressions of fear and shock crossing his face in quick succession before he realized that the weapon wasn’t about to discharge.

  He laughed, displaying an unpleasant set of broken and blackened teeth.

  ‘Let me guess,’ he said, dropping Ben’s head and reaching out for the gun. ‘Your first time is it? Let me show you.’

  Keeping the weapon leveled at the man’s face, Ethan’s hand began to shake with the weight. His mind whirled with a fleeting, elusive memory.

  ‘Safety by your thumb,’ said a voice in his mind. Brett Kovac’s voice. Ethan remembered back—all those years ago on the range—Brett showing him how to shoot.

  ‘Fuck you!’

  An impossible roar of sound blasted Ethan’s ears. The man stared at him, shook his head, and looked down. A small spot had appeared over a heart tattooed on his chest and from it dribbled a pathetically small amount of blood. Without another word, he sighed heavily and then slumped over to one side.

  Ethan became aware of the gun hanging loose in his hand. He laid it down gingerly before easing himself into a sitting position. Ben had already pushed the man’s inert body to one side and was on his feet extending his hand.

  ‘Well done,’ he muttered, pulling Ethan to his feet, ‘and thanks.’

  Ben recovered his gun and they took the stairs two at a time, bursting into the first room they came to. Although there were clothes scattered across a disheveled mattress, it appeared to be empty. They were about to leave when Ethan heard a shout.

  ‘Look out!’

  Ethan ducked as a chair swept through the air and shattered against the wall, right where he’d been standing. Turning, he heard an anguished moan and then saw Sarah, naked and trembling as she huddled behind the door.

  ‘Jesus,’ Ben said, as Ethan ripped off his windbreaker to wrap around her. Shivering silently, Sarah allowed herself to be dressed.

  ‘We’re going to take you somewhere safe now, Sarah,’ Ben said, pointing towards the stairs.

  Sarah lifted her face to Ben, shaking her head violently as if emerging from a deep trace. Although her eyes were wide with shock, a glint of rage appeared.

  ‘Thanks Ben,’ she said, ‘but just do one thing for me will you?’

  ‘Of course,’ Ben said, frowning.

  Sarah pointed a trembling finger at Ethan.

  ‘Make sure you keep this fucking bastard well away from me—forever.’

  *

  In the street, there were police running in all directions. Keeping Sarah between them, they walked at a steady pace, almost reaching the van when a shout stopped them. It was hard and full of authority.

  ‘Hey, you three—police. Stop immediately!’

  ‘Oh, fuck, here we go again,’ Ben muttered as they obeyed the command.

  Ethan quailed as six heavily armed officers jogged towards them.

  ‘Should we run?’ he asked quickly.

  ‘Yeah, fucking run, you manipulating coward,’ Sarah spat, stunning him with her vehemence. ‘Hopefully they’ll shoot you in the back.’

  ‘Too many of them around
now,’ Ben said as they were surrounded. ‘For God’s sake keep your hands in sight.’

  ‘Any of you Cox or Cross?’ one of them demanded, watching them warily.

  ‘Christ, you gave us a fright there,’ Ben said, his body visibly relaxing. ‘I’m Cox, and this is Cross. We’ve also got one of our nationals, Sarah Marsden, with us and a very frightened Aussie girl and her child in our van.’

  ‘No worries, mate,’ the officer said, ‘we’ve been asked to watch out for you. Your lot has been trying to get in touch with you and got worried when there was no reply.’

  Ben pulled his smartcom from his jacket, grimacing when he saw the shattered screen.

  ‘Two of our blokes will escort you out of this bullshit, mate,’ the officer said, walking them to the van. ‘You might have noticed that it’s a bit toxic around here at the moment.’

  ‘Ah,’ Ben said, ‘on that subject, I should mention that we’ve also got a dead perp in that building over there, officer. He was shot when we interrupted his sexual assault on Ms Marsden here. Do you need my weapon?’

  33.

  Cloak and dagger

  ‘She’s sleeping and she’s going to be OK,’ Sam said, as she came into the control room and met Ethan’s anxious look. ‘She wasn’t penetrated by that dirty mongrel. It appears you guys got there just in time.’

  Ethan felt enormous relief mixed with a deep sadness.

  ‘I’m sorry Ethan,’ Sam said, ‘it doesn’t matter what I say. For the time being she doesn’t want to have anything to do with you.’

  ‘I can understand that, Sam,’ Ethan said. ‘I got her into this, and even if I had no idea that Payne was screwing her life up in other ways, I helped put her in the firing line.’

  ‘But we all know you tried to do the right thing,’ Ben said, ‘and maybe Sarah will see that too one day.’

  Ben sat down at a control panel. He’d arrived only moments before Sam, having spent the last two hours being interviewed by Federal Ethics and Standards. The interview had ended abruptly when a message arrived from the Australian Prime Minister’s Office with an apology for Ben’s inconvenience and an order to return his weapon.

 

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