The Getaway (Sam Archer 2)

by Barber, Tom

‘You were the one who killed him?’

  ‘He shouldn’t have come down here and messed with other people’s affairs. He should have kept his nose out. He wanted to meet me in the parking lot. He wanted to confront me, to find out what the hell was going on, to tell me about Siletti and O’Hara. He figured I was still on the FBI side. But he had proof. And I couldn’t let him do it. So I killed him when he turned his back. Shotgun. Just like Farrell and his team used.’ Pause. 'I didn't want to do it, Sam. But I had to. I made it quick.'

  Archer blinked, fighting back emotion.

  ‘You were his oldest friend,’ he said, his voice shaky.

  ‘Then what had he done for me lately?’ Gerrard screamed. ‘Did he help me out when I got canned? No. Did he even try? Did he care? No. He didn't give a shit. He abandoned me just like everyone else. He deserved it. He should have stayed in D.C and left me the hell alone. Now he's dead for it.’

  There was a pause. Siletti had re-joined Gerrard, grinning wolfishly at Archer, holding Katic by the collar, the silenced pistol to her head. Behind them the rotors to the helicopter were starting to spin, gathering speed, the blades whirring faster and faster.

  ‘So what now?’ Archer said. 'You two just pack up the money and fly away?'

  ‘Exactly. But for you, it ends here,’ Siletti said.

  Archer saw the other man's eyes glance to Archer’s pistol, on the ground.

  He'd won and he knew it.

  ‘Oh, I’ve been waiting for this,’ Siletti continued. ‘You’ll be seeing your father real soon, you piece of shit. If you’ve got any prayers, say them now.’

  He pushed Katic to the ground, throwing his silenced pistol to one side. He scooped up the M16 lying on the ground, and pulled the slide, a bullet flying out the ejection port.

  ‘I’m going to give you every single bullet in this thing,’ he said, the weapon clutched in his hands. ‘Then the bitch, the kid and Sanderson die too. And there’s nothing you can to stop me.’

  Archer looked over at Gerrard. He looked back, his eyes emotionless. Behind them, the helicopter was warmed up, the rotors spinning. The engine was slowly starting to whine.

  ‘I’m sorry, Sam. I can’t let you walk away,’ Gerrard said. He turned to Siletti. ‘Time to go.’

  Gerrard pulled on his helmet, fully protected in the body armour as Siletti grinned at him. Archer didn’t react. He just looked at Katic, who was looking up at him pleadingly, tears in her eyes.

  ‘Any last words, asshole?’ Siletti called, raising the M16.

  Archer looked at him, then at Gerrard. Saw them both standing both there, near the back of the helicopter in the middle of the runway. The rotors whirring.

  He nodded, and looked down at Katic.

  ‘Turtle.’

  There was a pause. Siletti and Gerrard looked at him, confused.

  Then Katic suddenly reached over and grabbed her daughter with her duct-taped hands, pulling her to the floor from Gerrard’s grip and covering her in a flash. It took Siletti and Gerrard by surprise, and they looked down at her for a split second.

  At that same moment, Archer swept aside the right lapel of his coat, and grabbed something hanging from a strap looped around his shoulder.

  It was a sawn-off Ithaca.

  He grabbed the stock and the pistol grip and aimed the weapon, his hands steady as a rock, the weapon still and already loaded. He momentarily ignored Gerrard. He was wearing full body armour.

  But Siletti wasn’t.

  Archer aimed the weapon straight at him and pulled the trigger.

  The weapon exploded, and the shell hit Siletti like a cannonball, throwing him back. Blood and bits of his torso and clothing sprayed in the air as the shell tore him in two. He splayed back on the concrete, dead in an instant.

  Gerrard looked to his right, seeing this happen, shocked. He turned back to Archer and raised his Glock, safe behind his body armour. Archer racked the pump on the Ithaca, crunching another round into the barrel. He aimed it straight at Gerrard’s chest and fired.

  The weapon boomed, and there was a clunk as the round hit the steel body armour.

  It didn’t get through. But the force of the blast knocked Gerrard back.

  Archer fired again, and again, and again.

  None of the shells were getting through. But the force was pushing Gerrard backwards.

  Towards the rear of the helicopter.

  Towards the spinning, razor-sharp rotors.

  Archer fired twice more. Gerrard was thrown back, inches from the spinning blades. Archer paused, as Gerrard looked at him, his eyes wide through the visor of the helmet. He saw his eyes narrow and he recovered his balance. He thought he was safe. The Ithaca only carried seven shells. But Archer had also loaded one in the chamber.

  Which made eight.

  Archer racked the pump and pulled the trigger for the last time. The weapon exploded and the shell rocked Gerrard back into the rotors.

  And the blades did the rest.

  He screamed under the helmet as the spinning blades tore into him. They were spinning so fast, they shredded him into pieces, blood and flesh spraying into the air. What was left of him dropped to the floor, a severed and sliced mix of clothing, body armour and shredded flesh, dead, bits of him scattered on the runway.

  Katic pulled Jessie upright and hugged her, both of them crying. Behind them, there was a sudden clanging on the gate and Archer turned, seeing a fleet of NYPD squad cards and black vehicles from the FBI pouring into the empty airport. He loosened the shotgun from the strap around his shoulder and lowered it to the ground, his hands in the air. As he dropped to his knees, he looked over at Gerrard’s shredded body.

  His father’s old friend. The man who betrayed and murdered him.

  But now it was all over.

  The killer was gone.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Once the NYPD and FBI arrived at the crime-scene, two things happened. Archer was arrested and taken back into Manhattan to Federal Plaza in handcuffs. The three hostages were freed and cleaned up and taken downtown as well. The officers who arrived were shocked, the same as the officers who had arrived in Flushing Corona Park. Both crime-scenes were absolute bloodbaths. The total body-count in the half-hour was fourteen dead. Three of the most wanted bank robbers in the state, six NYPD cops, three SWAT team officers and two Federal agents.

  Debriefing had taken another twenty four hours. Archer’s story checked out, and every cent from the MSG heist was returned in the two black bags he’d brought to the airport. Sanderson and Katic had immaculate records with the Bureau and they backed up every word of Archer’s story, each telling the interviewing detectives their version of events. To strengthen the case, detectives at the scene also found a playing tape recorder inside one of the two money bags Archer had bought from a hardware store on the Upper East Side. They had rewound the tape and heard confessions from both Siletti and Gerrard, total admissions of guilt, before the noise of the helicopter drowned out their voices. Archer admitted to killing the two Federal agents, but together, the pair of them had murdered four other Federal agents, including his father. Thankfully, the detective heading up the investigation was sympathetic and on his side. He said it was unclear what had happened due to the noise on the tape. It seemed that Farrell and his team had been in a shoot-out with Gerrard and Siletti, and the two sides had end up killing each other.

  A call from Atlantic City P.D reported that a man booked into the hotel under a false name had been found dead in his room, shot through the head. They checked out his I.D and found his real name was Tate. The bags inside the helicopter were found to contain close to four million dollars, with two more in the back of Tate’s stolen car, almost every cent from the two Chase heists and the armoured truck at the Tennis Center. All the money was booked and returned, which pleased everyone, especially the insurance companies.

  Archer and Katic were interrogated all night as Jessie was cleaned up, checked by a doctor and calmed down, a female agent looking aft
er her. She was scared and would need time to recover, but thankfully the blindfold had shielded her from seeing the carnage. Inside the interrogation rooms, Archer and Katic gave them every detail, from the very beginning, every angle. It was a long night. Luckily however, once Sanderson cleaned himself up and got his nose looked at, he took over the investigation. Katic had an immaculate record as a Special Agent and the bruising on her face and body spoke for themselves, so her testimony checked out. And the taping Archer had recorded from inside the money bags confirmed everything they were saying. With Sanderson’s approval, they were home free. Not only had they taken down one of the worst bank robbing crews in the history of the city, they had also removed two Federal agents who had changed sides, men who had killed four other fellow agents. Needless to say, Archer was flavour of the month down at Federal Plaza. Seeing as he hadn’t eaten all day, one of the agents even went down to Subway for him and got him some food.

  As the clock ticked on towards Monday evening, one of the detectives seemed to be concerned about everything that Archer had seen. He was playing the hard cop, but Archer was too tired to even care.

  ‘You know an awful lot. I trust we can expect total silence from you,’ he said, sliding a prepared document over the table. ‘You say a word to anyone about any of this, rest assured we won’t be this nice. You’re lucky we’re even considering releasing you.’

  ‘I’ll sign it on one condition.’

  ‘I’m not here to bargain.’

  ‘I think you are. One of your agents murdered my father.’

  Pause.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Install Katic as head of the Bank Robbery Task Force. All that I ask. Make her the Supervisory Special Agent.’

  The man looked at him, then nodded.

  ‘That’s it?’

  ‘That’s it.’

  ‘OK. Deal.’

  They shook on it, then Archer read through it and signed the paper. The man swept it off the table.

  ‘OK. You’re free to go.’

  Archer had left the interrogation room, gathered his coat and meagre belongings and headed outside into the main Plaza. Katic was standing out there waiting for him. No sign of her daughter. It was just approaching dusk, and the plaza was golden as the sun set in the distance. She smiled as he approached her.

  ‘Where’s Jessie?’ he asked.

  ‘With her grandma. She came down from Chicago and is looking after her. You missed your flight,’ she said.

  He nodded.

  ‘And your booking at the hotel ran out.’

  He nodded.

  ‘C’mon, you can stay with me.’

  He didn’t speak.

  He just moved forward and kissed her.

  And she kissed him back.

  At Katic’s apartment, an agent had left a message on Archer’s phone. He said the Bureau had contacted British Airways and organised another flight home for him. Club Class again. This time, Archer had a feeling he was going to enjoy it a hell of a lot more.

  With some spare cardboard covering the hole on the front door to her apartment and the holes in her bedroom door and with the place tidied up, Archer and Katic spent the rest of the day and night together. They made love, then ordered take-out, then made love again, and lay there talking for most of the night, learning about each other, their pasts, their lives. Katic talked at length about her life since her husband died. She described him in detail, who he was, his kindness and humility. Archer talked about his father, the time they had spent together before he’d left all those years ago, and found that he felt strangely at peace with it now. That feeling of regret he’d carried with him all week was gone. By the time morning came and they woke up, the two of them knew almost every detail about each other. But one thing that Archer didn’t tell her was that she was being promoted. He figured it would be a pleasant surprise that would come best from the FBI.

  Archer’s flight wasn’t until 6 pm, so they had the whole next day. They spent it wandering the streets, enjoying the end of the summer, Jessie back with them again, still shaken up but starting to recover with that inner resilience that kids have. They ended up in a playground in Tompkins Square Park, near Katic’s apartment. Archer looked at the surroundings and realised this was where the photo had been taken of the three of them, Katic, her husband and Jessie.

  As they sat there on a bench side-by-side, watching Jessie playing around with two other kids, Katic spoke.

  ‘You know you’re the first man I’ve been with since Ricky died,’ she said.

  He nodded, respectful.

  ‘Don’t feel guilty. He’d want you to move on.’

  She nodded.

  ‘I know. I feel that now.’

  She looked at the trees, at her daughter going down the slide, playing with the other kids.

  ‘God, it’s beautiful here.’

  He turned to say something, but he never got the chance. She kissed him hard, and he kissed her back. She withdrew and looked at him, her arms around his shoulders.

  ‘Will you come back?’ she asked.

  He nodded. ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’ll be here,’ she said.

  And he kissed her again.

  When the sun started to set in the distance, the three of them jumped into a fresh Bureau car Katic had been given and headed through the city towards the Midtown Tunnel and Queens towards John F Kennedy airport. They could have gone through Brooklyn, which would have been quicker, but Archer wanted to make one last stop first.

  He was stood back in that graveyard in Queens. Unlike the funeral the other day, the crowd of mourners were gone and he stood there all alone, looking at his father’s headstone. The sun had started to move down the sky towards the horizon, and the place was lit up like gold in the late-afternoon light. He stood there, alone with his father, for ten minutes. Behind him, Katic watched him, leaning against the side of her car, Jessie beside her holding her hand, both of them looking on in silence.

  In front of the grave, Archer took one last look at the headstone.

  ‘Take care, Dad,’ he said.

  Then he’d turned and headed over to Katic, who walked forward to meet him.

  They kissed again, passionately. Then she’d driven him to the airport, and they’d said their goodbyes.

  He promised he’d be back.

  She promised she’d still be here.

  The plane crossed the Atlantic during the night and touched down in the UK at 7.30 am the next morning, Wednesday. Archer once again missed the comforts of Club Class, sleeping the entire flight, but when they landed he felt good and ready to go. After disembarking and making his way through security, he jumped on the Heathrow Express to Paddington, then took the Underground and headed straight home, grabbing a quick shower and changing his clothes. He took his car keys and locking up the apartment, moved outside to his car, firing the engine and heading straight to the ARU headquarters.

  The drive took him about ten minutes and he saw the familiar building appear, moving into the parking lot and pulling into an empty space. Stepping out and locking the car, he walked inside, signing in and headed straight upstairs for the briefing room.

  He walked inside, and saw all his team-mates. Chalky and Porter, drinking coffee and talking. Fox and Deakins, arguing about something. And Mac, their sergeant, standing by the coffee stand, pouring himself a cup.

  They all looked over as he entered, and were all pleased to see him.

  ‘Hey, look who it is!’ Deakins said. ‘Welcome back.’

  Archer grinned and nodded, moving to the drinks stand and pouring himself a cup of tea. Mac patted him on the shoulder as he stood next to him.

  ‘Welcome back, lad.’

  Archer turned, cup in hand, and walked over, taking a seat with the other officers on the team.

  ‘I heard Cobb put you up on the Unit’s budget. Lucky bastard,’ Chalky said. ‘Free trip to New York for a week.’

  ‘How was it Arch?’ Porter asked. ‘You
stay out of trouble?’

  Archer looked over at him and smiled.

  ‘Yeah. More or less.’

  THE END

  ###

  About the author:

  Born in Sydney, Australia and raised in England and Brunei, Tom Barber has always had a passion for writing and story-telling. It took him to Nottingham University, England, where he graduated in 2009 with a 2.1 BA Hons in English Studies. Post-graduation, Tom moved to New York City and completed the 2 Year Meisner Acting training programme at The William Esper Studio, furthering his love of acting and screen-writing.

  Upon his return to the U.K in late 2011, Tom set to work on his debut novel, Nine Lives, which has since become a five-star rated Amazon UK Kindle thriller. The Getaway is the second novel in the Sam Archer series.

  For updates on all new releases, follow @TomBarberBooks.

  Read an extract from

  Blackout

  By

  Tom Barber

  The new Sam Archer thriller.

  Now available on Amazon Kindle.

  *****

  ONEIt was a few minutes to midnight on a spring night in London.

  Inside a medium-sized office on the top floor of a three-storey building in West London, a man in his late-thirties was just finishing annotating the last page of eleven sequential A4 sheets of paper, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked. He was a politician, but about as far removed from the stereotypical type as you could get.

  Unlike a number of people in that career who so often sported the pasty complexion and soft, flabby physique that came with too much time sitting behind a desk, the man examining the papers had skin tanned and weathered by years in warmer climates. He was built like a professional rugby player, powerful arms and shoulders with not an ounce of excess body-fat on his midriff. He had a dark-featured chiselled face, a warm smile when he chose to use it and possessed a charisma that perfectly suited his chosen path as a politician. Collectively, these attributes had earned him a legion of admirers and supporters not just in his constituency but across the country. He had entered politics on a sheer whim a couple of years ago, and no one was more surprised than he at the meteoric success he had enjoyed so far.