by Will Jordan
‘A man like him isn’t going to give up his best bargaining chip for nothing,’ Hawkins went on. ‘If he’s going to play ball, he’ll want something in return. Something big.’
He always did, Cain mused as he remembered the young Pakistani intelligence operative from two decades earlier. An upstart punching above his weight, testing his influence, always looking for a new play. He knew how to handle such men.
‘I ever tell you about the first job I had?’ he asked, leaning back in his seat as the traffic and tired looking travellers passed by outside. ‘I was 15 years old, working in a T-shirt store joint down by San Clemente beach – the kind of place that does those shitty iron-on logos. Anyway, there was this older kid, college age I guess, named Billy Henderson; pretty much ran the place when the owner wasn’t around. Kind of arrogant, full of himself, but man, you should have seen him sell. It was like watching a master artist at work. I mean, this kid could sell yellow snow to an Eskimo and make him feel good about it.’
Cain had always felt a certain admiration for people with that kind of self confidence. The kind who could just walk up to complete strangers and charm the money right out of their wallets. It took a special kind of guy to do that, and Billy had been one of the best.
‘The only problem with young Billy was that he liked to put his hand in the till from time to time. Beer money, I guess, or maybe he just felt like he was owed. Now, I was an honest kid back then, believe it or not, so I told the store owner exactly what was going on. And you know what he said to me?’ He smiled faintly at the memory. ‘I know. Can you believe that? He knew this kid was stealing from him all along, but he also knew the money Billy was bringing in was worth even more, so he let him get away with it. Mutually beneficial relationship.’
‘So that’s it?’ Hawkins asked.
‘Not quite. A month or two goes by. The summer season was over, young Billy was about to head back to college and stopped by to pick up his pay check. But he didn’t get it. Instead he got a bill for all the money he’d stolen over the past couple of months, and a promise from the owner that he’d have Billy arrested if he didn’t pay up. Turns out this old guy had been keeping real careful records of everything this kid had done, and was just waiting for the right time. With the season over, I guess he didn’t need poor Billy to sell his shitty T-shirts any more.’ Even now, he couldn’t help but smirk in amusement at the look on that kid’s face. ‘I learned a pretty important lesson from that little punk. You can get away with a lot as long as you’re useful, but it’ll always catch up with you.’
Just like young Billy Henderson, Vizur Qalat might prove useful for the time being, but the summer season was going to end for him sooner or later.
‘Once we have what we need, I might need you to present Qalat with my bill,’ Cain decided. ‘I don’t want any loose ends left after this one.’
Hawkins smiled, the facial scar twisting his mouth into a cruel parody of a smile as he leaned back in his seat. Cain knew plenty of men who had become killers because circumstances or their profession demanded it, but Hawkins was of a different sort. He enjoyed it, sought it out, and never hesitated to do what was asked, no matter how abhorrent. That was what made him the perfect soldier for this new kind of war.
He supposed every great soldier was a product of their time, like a predator perfectly adapted to its hunting environment. Anya had certainly been a product of hers, but her war and her time were over now.
Cain would make sure of it.
Chapter 46
Drake stood before the simple wooden table in the centre of the warehouse that had become the focus of the team’s planning operation, and which was now strewn with laptops, cell phones, maps, printed pictures and design blueprints of the target building. A lot of work had been done in a very short space of time to put this all together. Only time would tell whether it was enough.
With no functioning air conditioning, the temperature inside the warehouse had risen steadily throughout the day. Even now he could feel beads of sweat trickling down his back, his shirt clinging uncomfortably to his damp skin.
Trying to push such thoughts aside, he looked up from the cluttered ops table, surveying the team that he’d called together to go over the plan one final time. His friends, his comrades; people he had fought and bled beside, who had risked their lives for his and who he had gladly done the same for in return. They were as much his family as the sister he had left back home, the mother he had lost only last year, and he was asking them to venture into the fray with him once more.
And standing slightly apart from the others, an ominous and intimidating presence, the woman who had started it all. Anya, the most lethal soldier he had ever known. He was asking her to go to war one last time, to risk everything on one final gamble.
All or nothing. Win or die. Only one side was getting out of this alive.
‘All right, this is it,’ he began. ‘You’ve all been through this plan with me before, so I’ll keep this brief. If anyone has anything to say, now’s the time.’
The others nodded in silence as Drake turned his attention to the map of the target area laid out on the table.
‘So, step one is neutralising the building’s security systems. Keira, you’ll approach to within transmission range and send the Judas code, hacking into the cameras and disabling the electronic door locks. Once we’ve confirmed Cain’s presence and location, we move on to step two – the assault on the building.’
He pointed to the apartment block that he and Anya had scouted earlier. ‘The assault team will take up position here, waiting for the go command. As soon as the cameras are down, we’ll launch our grapple hooks, aiming for the satellite cluster on the roof here,’ he added, holding up a printed picture of the satellite dish he’d snapped during the recon. ‘When the hooks are in place, we zip-line across to the roof of the target building and take down any security teams outside.’
It sounded easy when described like that, but Drake was under no illusions. The assault team would be defenceless and utterly vulnerable while they were crossing the zip line. If they were spotted, they were as good as dead.
‘Step three is to breach the safe house,’ he pressed on. ‘With Keira covering the cameras, the assault team moves quickly towards whichever room Cain is in, killing or incapacitating anyone in their way.’ He turned his attention to the design blueprints. ‘Judging by the building’s layout, the most logical place for the meeting to be held is the upper storey lounge. It’s a big open-plan conference room that can accommodate plenty of security personnel and guests, and it’s got a straight line to the panic room in the event of an emergency. Our priority must be to seal off that line of escape. Assuming we’ve still got the element of surprise, we move in with stun grenades and take out Cain’s security operatives.’
As he laid out their plan, he tried to picture how the breach would unfold. He imagined the thunderous booms of the flashbang grenades, imagined himself shoving his way through the door, weapon sweeping the room. He imagined the kick of the MP7 in his hands as he put a burst of automatic fire into anyone unlucky enough to stand against him.
That wasn’t going to be an easy thing to do. There was a chance the men protecting Marcus Cain were simply operatives doing their job. Men with lives and families. Sons, fathers, brothers whose deaths would weigh heavily on Drake’s conscience for a long time to come. But for now, they were enemies, threats that had to be dealt with in the harshest possible way, because they would show no mercy to him or his team.
‘In the event that Cain makes it to the panic room, we go to our backup plan and use breaching charges to either compromise the security door, or kill him.’ That wasn’t his favoured outcome, but one way or another Cain would be taken care of.
‘Will that work?’ Anya asked.
‘Each charge contains enough PE4 to breach 12 inches of hardened concrete,’ Samantha explained. ‘I rigged them myself. If they can’t breach that panic room, nothing can.’
> Anya eyed her dubiously. When it came to explosives, the margin for error was necessarily small. ‘Do you know what you’re doing?’
The specialist, far from being angered, instead gave her a patient smile. ‘I worked in explosive ordnance disposal for five years. So yeah, I know what I’m doing.’
That was an understatement, Drake knew. What Samantha didn’t know about bombs and explosives wasn’t worth knowing.
Anya cocked her head, saying nothing. Her expression, however, suggested she was at least satisfied with McKnight’s competence.
Drake cleared his throat, hoping to move on from that uncomfortable exchange. ‘Anyway, that’s a worst-case scenario. Assuming we make entry to the room and neutralize any operatives protecting him, Cain will be in our hands. Which brings us to the final step – extraction. Sam will be standing by with the Range Rover, and will move in to pick us up when we bring Cain outside. Keira will have disabled the gate security by that point, so she should be able to drive straight into the building’s courtyard unopposed. The assault team will bundle Cain into the vehicle, and we’ll exfiltrate from the area as quickly as possible.’
With his summary complete, Drake looked up at the others. ‘Questions?’
Anya had one ready and waiting. ‘Where will I be during the attack?’
‘Here, on overwatch.’ Drake pointed to the apartment block overlooking the safe house. ‘Your job will be to cover the assault team as they go in, take out any hostiles that show themselves, and protect us as we pull out.’
‘No,’ she said immediately, shaking her head. ‘I will lead the assault team.’
Mason, who had remained silent until now, exchanged a nervous glance with Drake. ‘That’s not the plan.’
‘Then the plan isn’t acceptable to me.’
Frost eyed the older woman irritably. ‘Nobody asked if it was “acceptable” to you. This isn’t a fucking democracy.’
Anya returned Frost’s hostile look in equal measure. ‘You were the ones who asked me to come. Which means you need my help.’
‘We brought you here to help us, not to lead us,’ Drake said, his tone guarded. He knew his team would never accept Anya as their leader, but he needed her to come to that realization by herself. ‘You can help us best by covering our backs.’
‘That’s not your decision. I’m the most logical choice to lead the assault.’
‘How do you figure?’ Mason asked.
Anya raised her chin defiantly, eyes flashing with stubborn pride. ‘I was doing this long before any of you. I have led more assaults like this than your whole team combined.’
‘Hey Anya, reality check. Nobody gives a shit what you did 20 years ago,’ Frost hit back, clearly in a far less diplomatic mood than Drake. ‘That’s ancient history, and so are you. We don’t need some old has-been playing prima donna.’
In most circumstances, Anya viewed Frost’s barbed remarks as somewhat akin to a mosquito bite; a minor irritation to be endured while one concentrated on more worthy matters. But those words seemed to cut through all that, striking a raw nerve.
Slowly she turned her head to regard the young specialist. ‘Do you know something, Frost? I wasn’t so different from you once. Confident, arrogant, convinced I knew it all. Ancient history, as you say. But I soon learned just how wrong I was. I hope for your sake that you don’t have to learn as I did.’
Even Frost, despite her fiery temperament, looked momentarily taken aback. ‘Spare me the lecture,’ she said, though her words had lost some of their sting. ‘It’s getting old.’
At this, Anya shook her head and folded her arms – a gesture Drake always took to be a bad sign. ‘I go in with the assault team, or I don’t go at all. It’s that simple.’
‘Why?’ Drake asked.
Her eyes swept across the group, taking in each member in turn, preparing herself for what was coming. ‘Because I know your team has no intention of keeping to our agreement.’
Whatever reaction she might have expected from such a statement, Drake doubted it measured up to the vociferous and indignant protests that were suddenly aimed her way.
‘Oh, fuck you,’ Frost spat. ‘Bringing you here was the biggest mistake we ever made.’
‘Is this the person that’s supposed to be helping us?’ Mason demanded. ‘This is bullshit, Ryan.’
‘This is a goddamn waste of time,’ McKnight said, turning away and running her hands through her hair, bristling with agitation.
Drake had heard more than enough. This situation was going downhill fast, and if he didn’t get control of it now then their tentative alliance was over for good.
‘All right, quiet down. Shut up! All of you!’ he shouted, his angry voice rising above the others to echo around the warehouse.
Straight away his team lapsed into silence, though the simmering hostility towards Anya was almost palpable. The woman herself remained unfazed, however. She had endured far worse in her life than angry words and raised voices.
Exhaling slowly to compose himself, Drake turned his eyes on Anya. She was at the centre of this conflict, and one way or another he needed to bring her onside.
‘Come with me,’ he snapped, turning and striding off towards a side exit in the building’s exterior wall. He didn’t bother to look back. He knew she would follow him.
Hauling open the door, he found himself facing onto a wide service road that ran between their warehouse and a similar unit nearby. There was no sign of anyone else in the vicinity, which wasn’t surprising given the neglected state of the area. Nonetheless, he could hear the rumble of traffic on the main drags nearby, accompanied by heavier machinery in some of the industrial units further off. The heat was, if anything, even more oppressive now that they were outside.
Already he was beginning to regret coming here, but he knew what they had to say to each other wasn’t something to be done in front of the others.
‘Say what you have to say, Ryan,’ Anya prompted, slamming the door shut.
Keeping his back to her, Drake clenched his fists. ‘What the hell’s going on?’
‘What do you mean?’
Drake rounded on her. ‘You’ve been pushing at everyone since I brought you in, trying to provoke us, trying to break us apart. Why? Do you want this mission to fail? Because you seem to be doing everything you can to make that happen.’
Anya regarded him in terse silence. ‘Are you finished?’
‘No, I’m not. But we are unless I get some answers,’ he promised her.
‘You don’t want answers.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Really? Then what do I want?’
‘You want reassurance. You want to be told that everything is going to be all right, that we will all get through this if we work together.’ She let out a faint sigh and shook her head. ‘But we won’t, Ryan. Make no mistake, people are going to die tonight. Maybe you, maybe me. Maybe all of us.’
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘If you really believe that, why do you want to lead the attack?’
To his surprise, she glanced away as if she couldn’t meet his gaze. ‘Like I said, you don’t want answers.’
He could listen to this no more. Taking a step forward, Drake grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her roughly against the side of the warehouse, the corrugated steel reverberating with the sound of the impact. Anya stared back at him, visibly surprised at his sudden, violent move.
‘No more games,’ he said, his face just inches from hers. ‘Why are you doing this?’
‘Because I’m afraid!’ she shouted, losing her cool for the first time. ‘Is that what you want to hear, Ryan? Well, there it is. There is my confession. I’m afraid!’
‘Fuck that,’ he said, refusing to buy it. In all the time he’d known her, he had never once seen Anya show even a hint of fear. She’d been through too much to feel such an emotion now. ‘What could you possibly be afraid of now?’
He saw her swallow, saw the muscles in her throat tighten, saw the barr
iers start to break down. Her eyes were locked with his, and for once there was nothing masking what lay behind them, no steely resolve or calculating intelligence. He saw what truly lay at the core of her being, saw the fear and the regret for things left unsaid too long, the pain and sadness over what might have been, and the forlorn hope for what might still be.
‘You,’ she said, her voice wavering. ‘I’m afraid of losing you.’
She was fighting hard to keep her composure, to hold her emotions in check as she’d always done, but this time it was different. This time she was losing the battle. The emotions she now faced were of a sort she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for a long time.
Drake let out a breath, releasing his hold of her. He backed off a step as if he’d been struck by a physical blow. ‘No,’ he said, refusing to accept it. ‘You’re lying.’
That was when the rising tide finally became too much even for Anya to hold back. Launching herself forward as if to attack him, she seized Drake by his shirt and twisted him around, shoving him backward against the wall just as he’d done to her. She wasn’t as big or as strong as him, but the sheer intensity and aggression of her actions were enough to overcome these physical limitations, and the thin steel wall shuddered as his heavy weight slammed into it.
‘Look at me, Ryan. Look at me!’ she hissed, her forearm pressed against his throat as if he were an enemy to be overcome. ‘Tell me I’m lying.’
Anya had withheld things, kept secrets from him, but never had she intentionally lied to him. He knew she wouldn’t start now, but that didn’t make her words any easier to hear.
‘No!’ he snapped, angrily swatting her arm away. ‘You almost got me a killed a dozen times over. You’ve put me and my team at risk every fucking time we’ve come close to you, and you’ve never shown the slightest regret about it, so don’t start pretending my life means something to you now. We both know it doesn’t.’