by Will Jordan
‘Got more blood here!’ one called out.
‘I’m on it,’ another replied. ‘Look sharp!’
Cain’s men were closing in on her. There was nothing she could do to fight them off; not by herself. And she couldn’t hope to outrun them. Her pace slowed as the gravity of her situation began to sink in.
Rather than exit through the destroyed gate and risk being seen, she had made her escape from the compound by vaulting one of the perimeter walls, using her combat vest to cover the glass shards embedded in the cement on top. Even with this precaution, she’d sustained several deep lacerations, warm blood soaking into her clothes. She barely felt the pain now, however.
It was nothing compared to the agony that had ripped through her as she’d watched the Rover take the brunt of that grenade impact, as she’d seen the vehicle flip right over and come to a crashing halt on its roof. As she’d seen Drake and his companions hauled from the wreckage.
It was all over. Everything they had planned, all of their strategies and schemes now lay in ruins. Once again, Cain had defeated them. Had defeated her.
Bumping into a rough brick wall, Anya slid down it until she was sitting in a pool of fetid rainwater, oblivious to the deluge that continued around her.
‘She can’t be far!’ she heard a call echo from around a turn in the alley. ‘We’ve got her.’
Indeed they had. But if they were intending to capture her alive, they were to be disappointed. She still had the M1911, with a few rounds left in the mag, the last of which she would use on herself. She’d spent enough of her life in captivity to know she’d never endure it again.
If this was where she was to make her last stand, then so be it. She’d cheated death enough times in her life, she supposed the odds were bound to catch up with her eventually. And she wasn’t afraid of what was coming.
Her biggest regret was that she would never get to face Cain, never find the answers she needed.
That was when she heard it. A voice.
‘Anya!’
Frowning, she looked around, seeking its source, wondering for a fleeting moment if one of the team had somehow escaped the wreck and had made it here to rendezvous with her.
‘Anya!’ the voice called out again. Not a man’s voice, but a boy’s.
Looking to her right, Anya stared in disbelief as one of the heavy steel doors facing out into the alley swung open a crack, revealing the slender face and dark eyes of a boy she’d never expected to see again.
‘Yasin?’ she said, hardly believing what she was seeing. ‘What are you—’
‘Hurry!’ the boy urged, beckoning her towards him. ‘To me! Now!’
With the sound of footsteps splashing through puddles now clearly audible, Anya reacted instinctively, pushing herself off the wall and stumbling across the alley. Slipping through the doorway, she practically collapsed on the floor beyond as the door clicked shut and the lock was engaged.
As shouts echoed from outside and the footsteps sprinted past, Anya sat there in darkness for a second or two, hearing only the sound of her own laboured breathing. Then a flame leapt up from a few feet away, a simple flint lighter, revealing the young lad they had abandoned earlier in the day.
He stared at her for several seconds, noting her pained expression, her soaking hair, the blood on her clothes.
‘How did you find me?’ she asked, barely able to remember the right words.
She saw a flicker of a smile. ‘I followed you. I saw the house, the explosion, the shooting. I knew they were chasing you, so I broke in here and waited until you passed.’
‘What is this place?’ The light illuminated little more than a few feet of plain concrete flooring and breeze block walls.
‘A clothes store, I think. Easy to pick the locks on a place like this.’
Anya simply didn’t know what to say. As far as resourcefulness went, this mere boy put a lot of professional operatives to shame.
One thing, however, still escaped her. ‘Why are you helping me? I was ready to kill you today.’
The boy’s eyes glimmered in the light of the flame. ‘What did your friend Ryan say? I am all about second chances.’
Anya reached up and pushed her soaking hair out of her eyes. The wound at her side was paining her more with each passing minute. It would need treatment soon before it became a real problem, assuming she made it that far.
‘We must leave here soon,’ Yasin went on. ‘They have lost your trail, but it won’t take them long to find it again.’
What was the point, she wondered in a moment of brutal honesty. It wouldn’t change what had happened tonight. Drake and the others would still be gone.
Then a thought occurred to her; something she hadn’t had time to consider in the frantic rush to escape. Drake and the others had been pulled alive from the wreckage, not executed on the spot as she might have expected. They would no doubt make a fine prize for Cain, but they weren’t the real objective.
She was.
As long as she remained at large, Cain wouldn’t kill them. He would keep them as leverage, because he knew they could be used against her. And in that respect, he was right. She couldn’t fight, and she couldn’t remain here, therefore the only logical course of action was to retreat.
She hated it, but there it was. Fight and die for nothing, or run and live. And perhaps find a way to turn this around.
She looked at Yasin again, remembering the boy’s choice of pronoun. ‘You said we,’ she remarked. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I want to go with you,’ he explained. ‘I can help you escape, but only if you take me.’
Anya said nothing to this, knowing that where she was going was no place for a mere child. Then again, life here didn’t seem to be a bed of roses either. And if he was right, he might just be able to help her. A distant shout, accompanied by the wail of police sirens, forced the issue.
‘Time to decide,’ Yasin prompted. ‘Because I’m leaving with or without you.’
‘All right,’ Anya finally conceded, having to force the words out through clenched teeth. ‘I will help you, but first you must get me out of here.’
Vowing that both Cain and Hawkins would pay for tonight’s events, Anya dragged herself to her feet and followed Yasin deeper into the building.
Chapter 56
‘Who do you want dead, exactly?’ Cain asked, mildly curious.
Pausing a moment, Qalat told him the name. And to his credit, Cain managed to maintain his poker face.
‘That’s a big ask.’
‘And it will get big results,’ Qalat assured him. ‘We both know the current ISI director is a fundamentalist sympathizer, and one of the biggest obstacles to cooperation between us. He has many friends in parliament and elsewhere. But once he is… handled, it will leave a power vacuum that has to be filled. I will see to it that I am appointed as interim director. Once I have control and access to his security clearance, you will have all the information you need to kill Bin Laden.’
‘And you’ll be in charge of the ISI,’ Cain reminded him.
‘What is it your people say about clouds and silver linings?’ A flicker of a smile. ‘Think of this as an opportunity, Marcus. An opportunity not just to kill one man, but to bring about a new era of trust and cooperation between our two agencies, maybe our two countries. Imagine what you could accomplish in this part of the world with the ISI firmly on your side. We could permanently change the balance of power in central Asia.’
‘Those are grand words,’ Cain remarked cynically. ‘But you’re asking a lot without any guarantee of a return. If I come through for you, what’s to stop you reneging on our deal?’
Qalat gestured around him. He didn’t need to see the microphones and cameras to know they were there. ‘Only a foolish man would have failed to record every word spoken in this room tonight. Our agreement is what binds us – both of us. If one betrays the other, both will fall. Personally, I would rather work with you than against you.’ He shrugged.
‘Or, you could set to work with your torture chambers and see which of us is proven right.’
He took another sip of coffee, managing to hide the slight tremor in his hand. Outwardly he might have projected the image of a man calm and in control of the situation, but inside he was acutely aware that Cain could well make good on his threat. It was clear now that he was facing a very different man from the one he’d know 20 years ago.
‘If you fail me, it won’t matter how high you rise in the ISI,’ Cain said at last. ‘It won’t matter how far you run, or how well you hide. Sooner or later, I will find you, and the exposure of your agreement will be the last thing you need to worry about.’
The sincerity of those words was chillingly real, but nonetheless Qalat sensed victory. ‘So we have a deal.’
‘I have a condition of my own,’ Cain chipped in. ‘There’s an operation going on tonight across town, in parallel to our meeting here. It doesn’t involve Pakistani citizens; it’s more of a… house-clearing exercise for us. But I’d appreciate it if you kept your people out of the way. We wouldn’t want any… uncomfortable situations for either of us.’
Qalat eyed him curiously, but nonetheless nodded. ‘Very well. You have my word.’
Putting down his coffee, Cain rose stiffly from the couch and gestured towards the door. ‘My associates outside will make sure you get home safely. And don’t worry, we’ll take care of your two friends.’
Of that, he had no doubt. Taking Cain’s formal dismissal as tacit acceptance of their agreement, Qalat nodded and turned to leave. He was just reaching for the door handle when Cain added one last parting remark.
‘You know, Billy Henderson would have liked you.’
Qalat frowned and glanced back over his shoulder. ‘Who?’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ Cain said, waving it off. ‘Have a safe trip, Vizur.’
After an uncomfortable pause, Qalat turned and left.
* * *
‘What’s the status on those tactical teams?’ Gondal demanded, pacing the room like a cornered animal while he waited for an update.
Ten minutes earlier, reports had begun to filter through to him of explosions and gunfire in a residential district on the west side of the city. Not far from where the two ISI agents were known to have disappeared the previous night.
It hadn’t taken much to put two and two together, and come up with a probable location for ‘Robert Douglas’ and his team of operatives. Reacting immediately, Gondal had directed all available tactical units to that location, hoping to interrupt whatever terrorist plot Douglas had set in motion.
However, Mahsud didn’t reply to his query. Looking over at the big man, Gondal found him hunched over his phone, his thick brows drawn together in a frown.
‘Damn it, what’s happening?’ Gondal snapped in an uncharacteristic display of frustration.
Slowly Mahsud turned to look at him. ‘The tactical teams are standing down.’
‘What?’ Gondal stammered, wondering if he’d misheard his colleague. ‘On whose authority?’
Mahsud laid the phone down. ‘This one came from the top. We’re to stand down and hand over all files relating to Douglas and his team. Apparently this one is going to be handled “quietly”.’
‘You mean we’re being locked out?’
Mahsud said nothing. There was no need. Both men knew an official sanction when they saw it. The question was, where had it come from?
* * *
Cain’s phone was ringing. Knowing who was calling, he snatched up the device and hit the button to take the call.
‘Report,’ he said, his voice tight with anticipation.
Hawkins was in a moving vehicle judging by the background sound of an engine that seemed close to redline. ‘Drake and the others took the bait just like we planned. We got them. We’re en route to the rally point now.’
‘What about Anya?’ Cain demanded. Drake and the others were of little interest compared to her.
A pause. ‘We’re working on it.’
Cain closed his eyes, breathing deep to summon some inner reserve of calm and patience. ‘You’re working on it,’ he repeated. ‘You understand that if she gets away, everything we’ve accomplished will have been for nothing!’
‘She won’t get away,’ Hawkins promised him, though some of his usual confidence seemed to have faded. ‘Not while we have Drake. He’s still the key to finding her, and now he’s all ours.’
That at least Cain knew to be true. ‘What’s his status?’
‘He’s alive. Hurt, but alive.’
‘Make sure he stays that way,’ Cain instructed, knowing Hawkins’ penchant for torture and summary executions. ‘What about McKnight? She make it?’
‘Yeah, more or less. Want me to change that?’
All in good time, he thought to himself. With Drake taken care of, there were still a few loose ends to tie up. Starting with Samantha.
‘No, bring her to me. It’s time we had ourselves a debriefing.’
Chapter 57
Drake couldn’t move. He was secured to a chair, hands cuffed behind his back.
He had no idea where he was, only that it had been a good few hours since the failed assault on the safe house. He remembered the jolting, painful journey here, gagged and blindfolded, unable to move as the circulation in his hands was slowly cut off by the plasticuffs digging into his wrists.
Then at last the journey had come to an end. And here he was, tied up in some dingy underground room that smelled of damp and decay, lit by a single bare bulb in the ceiling.
A door swung open on rusted hinges behind him. Footsteps on the dirty floor.
A figure moved into view, eyes on him the whole time.
Jason Hawkins. A man he’d once known all too well. A man who had once been his commanding officer.
He hadn’t changed much since the last time Drake had seen him. Same tall, powerful frame, same short dark hair, same strong, arrogant features. Only the big scar bisecting one side of his face was a new addition. Drake hoped the person who’d given it to him went on to live a long and happy life.
‘Well, Ryan, here we are,’ Hawkins said, folding his arms across his broad chest. ‘Sorry this isn’t exactly the Hilton, but let’s face it, we’ve both bedded down in worse, right?’
His tone was almost jovial, as if they truly were old friends catching up.
‘You’re probably feeling pretty pissed right about now,’ Hawkins went on. ‘I know I would be. Shit, all that work, all that planning and effort, to see it all come to nothing. It’s enough to drive a man to distraction. If I were you, I’d probably be wondering how we did it. How did we know? Did we use satellite tracking? Drones? Digital surveillance?’
He let out a sympathetic sigh. ‘Afraid not. The answer was a little closer to home. Real close, in your case.’
In that instant, an image of Samantha flashed before Drake’s eyes. Samantha, who he’d first met in Afghanistan two years ago, who had become an integral part of his team in the months following, who had always been so reliable, so dependable, so willing to put others before herself. Samantha, who become far more to him than just another teammate.
‘No,’ he gasped, appalled by what he was hearing. It was trick, he told himself. Just a trick to mess with his head. ‘No, you’re lying.’
‘Am I? How much do you really know about her? Her service record, her history…’
She had never been much inclined to talk about herself or her past, but then plenty of people were like that. That didn’t make her a traitor.
‘She was vetted by the Agency.’
‘Faked, good buddy. Rubber-stamped by Cain himself. She was brought in to do a job, keep tabs on you, make sure you never got too close. The Samantha McKnight you think you know… well, she never really existed. And now she never will.’
‘Bollocks. I don’t believe you,’ he snarled, still desperately clinging to the hope that the man was lying. Refusing to believe that the woman he loved would
do such a thing.
‘Thought you might say that.’ Hawkins smiled with malicious glee as he removed a cell phone from his pocket, held it up and enabled the audio playback feature.
‘Don’t tell me to calm down. They almost died,’ a voice hissed, filled with anger and recrimination. A woman’s voice.
Samantha’s voice.
’And what if they had?’ This voice was male, deep in tone, smooth and polished like its owner. Marcus Cain.
’This wasn’t our deal, Marcus. I didn’t sign up for this.’
Drake could barely bring himself to listen, but Hawkins increased the audio volume, making sure he heard every word. He was relishing the torment being inflicted on his prisoner, far more effective than any physical damage he could do.
‘And what exactly did you sign up for, Samantha? To keep Drake out of trouble? To tell me his favourite movies? What about fucking him? Was that part of our agreement?’
Oh Christ, no. Drake could feel the bile rising in his throat as the pieces suddenly came together. Samantha, always cautioning against taking direct action against Cain, always trying to dissuade them from confrontation. It hadn’t just been natural prudence driving her actions; she’d been actively trying to protect her true master.
* * *
’You asked me to gain his trust. I did what I had to do.’
That last remark came out as a plaintive admission, filled with guilt and regret. It was clear she’d taken no pleasure in her actions, but that couldn’t undo the betrayal she had inflicted on him. On all of them.
There could be no denying it now. Samantha, the woman he’d trusted with his life, had been working against them the whole time.
* * *
‘No…’ Drake said through clenched teeth, looking down at the floor to avoid Hawkins’s triumphant smile.
‘Women, huh? Never can trust them,’ Hawkins said as he slipped the phone back into his pocket. ‘Anyway, now we’ve got that out of the way, you and I have other business to attend to.’