Shadow Conflict

by Shadow Conflict (epub)

  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her father had agents following her, spying on every aspect of her private life? How far had this gone?

  Alex seemed equally taken aback by this revelation. ‘Wait, what do you mean—’

  ‘Sir, please back away,’ the field operative warned him, one hand thrust into her jacket pocket as if she intended to draw a weapon on him. ‘For your own safety, back away now.’

  With little choice in the face of such a thinly veiled threat, Alex obeyed.

  ‘Why am I in danger?’ Lauren asked. ‘Oh, shit. This fire was no accident, was it?’

  ‘That’s not a conversation to be had here,’ Forsyth said, holding out a hand. ‘Please come with me. We have a car waiting outside to take you to a secure location.’

  Lauren was unwilling to trust her. In any case, if there was danger here, she couldn’t leave knowing Morgan’s life might be at risk. ‘I have to find my friend—’

  Forsyth grabbed her arm, preventing her from leaving.

  ‘Let go of me!’ she demanded, trying to get free.

  ‘My job is to get you to safety by any means necessary, but it’d be easier for both of us if you cooperate,’ Forsyth added with a meaningful look. ‘Your call, ma’am.’

  ‘I want to see some ID first,’ Lauren said.

  Forsyth’s expression was one of long-suffering patience. ‘Undercover agents don’t carry ID. That’s part of being in the Agency. Now let’s go.’

  Lauren finally acquiesced and allowed the older woman to lead her down the now empty corridor with fast, purposeful strides. She was hard pressed to keep up, and having one arm clutched deathly tight wasn’t helping.

  She watched as the operative reached up and pressed a finger against her right ear. ‘We’re en route to the evac vehicle,’ she said. ‘Meet us there, and be ready to move.’

  ‘What sort of danger were you talking about?’ Lauren asked as they rounded a corner. She’d always harboured an instinctive dislike of people who expected her to follow instructions without explanation. It was probably why her relationship with her father was strained at the best of times, but it had set a pattern for her life. She wanted answers from this woman.

  ‘We believe a terrorist group may have learned your identity, and was preparing to abduct you,’ Forsyth explained hurriedly. ‘I was forced to put our evac plan into action.’

  ‘You have plans for people trying to kidnap me?’ Lauren asked, still refusing to believe someone would see her as so important.

  The older woman glanced briefly over her shoulder at Lauren. ‘We have plans for every scenario.’

  Throwing open the fire exit, Forsyth led them out onto a side street running parallel to the Sorbonne, acting as if she expected masked gunmen to appear from the shadows and attack them. But aside from a few people looking inquisitively towards the blaring alarms, the place looked quiet.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Forsyth said, leading her over to a black Ford Focus parked up on the kerb. A click of her key fob disengaged the alarm with a distinctive whup, whup, and she turned around to face Lauren. ‘Get in, ma’am.’

  She still possessed the same air of authority that had so struck Lauren at the outset, but there was a tautness in her face, as if she were uncomfortable or in pain. Lauren couldn’t put her finger on it, but something wasn’t right.

  ‘We need to go, now,’ Forsyth commanded, perhaps sensing her growing doubts.

  Lauren noticed something staining the jacket that Forsyth wore zipped up tight. Something dark brown or reddish in colour, leaking through the fabric from underneath. It took her a second or so to realize what it was.

  Blood.

  She was running almost before she knew it, tearing off towards the fire exit she’d just come through at full pelt. Designed to open only from the inside, it would form an effective barrier to anyone trying to force their way in after her. At the very least, it would hold Forsyth, or whatever her name really was, at bay until Lauren could raise the alarm.

  ‘Lauren! Stop!’ she called out.

  Lauren ignored her, gunning for the other side of that fire exit as fast as her legs would carry her. She hardly considered herself an athlete, but she did run and jog regularly, and could put on quite a burst of speed when necessary. Now was such a time. Forsyth by contrast was older, and apparently injured. With luck, it would slow her down just enough to give Lauren the edge.

  She was just about to slip through the slowly closing door when another figure appeared in front of her. A young man with light brown hair, scruffy-looking clothes and several days’ growth of stubble. The man who had introduced himself as Alex.

  Lauren couldn’t say for sure whether he was in on Forsyth’s scheme, or whether he had followed her out of concern for her safety, but she was taking no chances.

  Like many female students these days, she carried a small canister of pepper spray with her, particularly when going out alone. She’d never before had to use it, for which she was grateful, but that had just changed.

  Whipping it out of her pocket while barely breaking stride, she pointed it at his face and pressed the button on top. A thin jet of clear liquid shot through the air, looking for all the world like she’d just fired a water pistol. Alex jerked his head to the side and raised an arm instinctively, but his sudden cry told her the pepper spray had got into his eyes all the same.

  Lauren pressed forward, trying to shove her way past him to get inside. She was smaller and lighter than him, and now that he was blinded by the spray, he was only partially blocking the doorway.

  ‘Out of my way!’ she screamed, shoving and lashing out with her fists.

  She was about to give him another dose of the spray when she felt something sharp press into her neck. She tried to reach up and pull out whatever had just jabbed her, but a sudden feeling of wooziness made her actions slow and leaden. The world seemed to be going into slow motion, all vague and indistinct.

  She turned, trying to bring the pepper spray around, but could no longer control her limbs properly. She saw a fleeting glimpse of a woman’s face as her legs buckled and the darkness closed around her.

  Anya caught the young woman just as she collapsed. The last thing she needed was for Lauren to fracture her skull on the pavement. Her target’s weight would normally have presented little difficulty for even an average person to support, but for Anya, every step felt like some immense boulder was resting on her, crushing her down. She managed to half-carry, half-drag the unconscious woman over to the waiting car, popped the trunk and bundled her inside.

  She could hear distant sirens approaching. Hopefully fire engines, possibly police.

  A set of plastic cable ties were already laid out in the trunk. Anya made sure to secure Lauren’s wrists and ankles, then used a third loop to join them together. It was about as effective a way of keeping a target immobile as she could think of.

  This done, she slammed the trunk closed and turned towards Alex, who was leaning against the wall, tears streaming from his eyes as he desperately tried to wipe the spray away. It was a wasted effort, she knew from experience. Rubbing them would only force the chemicals deeper into the skin, prolonging his discomfort.

  ‘Alex, are you all right?’ she called out.

  He looked over in her general direction. ‘No! I can’t fucking see!’

  Hurrying over, she led him to the passenger side of the car. As Alex fumbled with his seatbelt, Anya strode around to the driver’s side, slid in, and started the engine.

  Even as several pedestrians further up the street were starting to point at her car, she slammed into gear and accelerated away.

  Chapter 23

  Slovakia

  The atmosphere in the car was tense. Drake was pushing the old Volkswagen as hard as he dared along the 1106 highway, following signs for the Czech border. He was eager to put as much distance between them and Stupava as possible, partly to avoid police follow-up, but mostly to get as far away from Hawkins and his men as he coul
d. Every mile they travelled added dozens to the possible search area.

  He still couldn’t understand how Hawkins had caught up with them so fast, when they had spent just minutes in Lenka’s apartment. Satellite tracking would have been too difficult and time consuming, even for a man of Cain’s authority to harness without repercussions. It was possible the search chopper had spotted him, but if so why hadn’t it followed and intercepted them in the woods, rather than waiting until they reached a populated area? Drones were another possibility, but operating them in Slovakian airspace without authorization, and in poor weather conditions, would be dangerous at best.

  A lot of questions, for which he currently had no answers.

  The terrain around them was dense woodland, towering pine and spruce trees crowding in close to the road, their thick canopy turning the already gloomy morning into near-total darkness. Rain continued to beat off the windshield, supplemented by spray kicked up by occasional trucks that rumbled past at high speed. With the driver’s side window in pieces on the floor, Drake’s journey was both loud and wet.

  He and Lenka hadn’t spoken a word to each other since their escape from Stupava, but a quick glance at the young woman made it plain what was going through her mind. Her life, such as it had been, had just fallen down around her. Everything she owned, all her plans for the future had just gone up in smoke. He couldn’t blame her for being pissed off.

  ‘Lenka, we—’

  ‘Shut up, chumaj!’ she snarled, thumping him in the arm, and following it up with a stream of what he presumed were more colourful Slovak invectives.

  ‘All right, that’s enough!’ Drake shouted, having to fend off another blow with his free hand. Allowing her to vent her spleen was one thing, but he wasn’t going to sit there and let her pummel him for the next couple of hours.

  Finally the young woman seemed to simmer down and slumped back in her seat, still glaring at him like a feral cat waiting for another chance to strike out.

  ‘I want to know who those men were,’ she said at length.

  ‘You don’t—’

  ‘Do not tell me it is for my own good!’ she warned him, jabbing a finger in his direction. ‘They tried to kill me. My home is gone. Everything I have is gone. I want to know who the fuck you are, who the fuck they are, and why the fuck they want you dead. Now speak, chumaj.’

  Drake let out a breath, ducking his head aside as another blast of rainwater was kicked in his direction by a passing vehicle. He was starting to regret not trying to jimmy the door rather than break the window.

  ‘All right, fine,’ he conceded. ‘The men who tried to kill us are CIA.’

  Her eyes opened wider. ‘Americans?’

  Drake nodded.

  ‘So what does that make you? Are you… terrorist?’

  If only it were that simple, he thought bleakly. ‘I used to work for them myself. Then I got caught up in something bad, found out the man in charge isn’t what I thought. He’s got his own agenda, and he’s willing to kill anyone who stands in his way.’

  ‘Including you.’

  Drake said nothing to that. ‘We tried to beat him to the punch, take him down first, but he was ready for us. Most of the people who helped me are either dead, missing or captured. Now it’s just me.’ He stared off into the murky distance, where the road was swallowed up by mist and gloom. ‘Just me.’

  The young woman mulled over everything he’d said. He didn’t want or expect gushing sympathy from her, but it was clear his words had made an impact. ‘How did you escape them?’

  Drake doubted she’d feel comfortable around him if she knew the gory details of his escape. ‘I got lucky,’ was all he was prepared to say. ‘I’m not counting on that again.’

  ‘What will you do now?’

  Drake shuffled his feet in the footwell. He and all his allies working together had failed against Marcus Cain, and some of them had paid for that with their lives. And yet, he still lived. Yesterday he’d been resigned to dying alone in the darkness of his cell. Now he was free. He was only one man, but he was free.

  And he wasn’t finished yet.

  ‘Fight back,’ he said. ‘I don’t expect to win, but maybe I can get even.’

  ‘What about me?’ Lenka asked, her voice quieter now.

  Drake chanced a look at her. With her blonde hair now hanging in a damp mess around her shoulders, her face streaked with mud and make-up, her clothes filthy, she was a pathetic, bedraggled-looking figure.

  Her anger had boiled away as she began to see the long-term implications of this morning’s events, and a stark reality began to settle on her: she might well have been pulled into a dangerous, shadowy world. A world for which she was completely unprepared.

  ‘First we get across the border into the Czech Republic, then head for Prague,’ he said, thinking it best to keep her mind on more immediate matters.

  His one cause for optimism was that the Czech Republic and Slovakia were both Schengen Area countries, with no physical borders and no passport controls. It was just as well, otherwise he’d have been shit out of luck with nothing but a stolen car and a few crumpled euros to his name.

  ‘Why Prague?’ the young woman asked.

  ‘We need a place to hold up and sort ourselves out, and it’s got the only supply cache within a thousand miles.’ He offered Lenka an encouraging smile. ‘I don’t know about you, but I could use some fresh clothes.’

  That at least prompted a laugh, which made him feel better than he had for some time. ‘You mean this is not a good look for me?’

  Drake couldn’t help but laugh as well. When everything else is going to shit, sometimes humour is the only recourse. That was why soldiers took the piss out of each other on the eve of battle, he reflected.

  ‘I still do not know your name,’ she said, turning a little more serious now.

  What the hell, he thought. She at least deserved to know that much.

  ‘It’s Ryan.’

  ‘Ryan,’ she repeated, trying it out for size. ‘It suits you, I think.’

  ‘Better than chumaj,’ he mused, thinking about the word she’d applied to him several times already. ‘What the hell does that mean anyway?’

  ‘It is… a hard word to put in English,’ she said, stalling. ‘Closest I think is… stupid man. A moron.’

  ‘Moron,’ Drake repeated. ‘Can’t say it’s the worst thing I’ve been called.’

  ‘I do have other words for you,’ Lenka assured him.

  Drake didn’t doubt it, but decided to let her keep them to herself for now.

  Chapter 24

  Paris, France

  Alex’s face was burning, and his eyes felt like they were cooking inside their sockets as the anti-personnel spray did its work. Never had he experienced pain quite like it, or endured the frightening sensation of near-total blindness. He could see nothing but weak light and blurry shapes.

  All he could say with any certainty was that their car was moving at a rapid pace. He could hear the growl of the engine as Anya revved it hard, could feel the vibrations as the suspension fought against ancient cobbled roadways, and was occasionally pitched sideways by a sharp turn.

  Reaching up, he tried to rub at his eyes, only for Anya to push his arm down. ‘Don’t,’ she commanded. ‘It will only make it worse.’

  ‘Easy for you to say,’ he said angrily. ‘You didn’t just get fucking maced.’

  ‘Pepper spray,’ the woman corrected him. ‘Much less potent.’

  ‘Do I look like I give a shit? My face feels like something from Raiders of the Lost Ark.’ In frustration, he slammed his fist against the dashboard. ‘Fucking hell!’

  ‘I know what it feels like, Alex,’ she assured him. ‘Act like a man and take it.’

  Alex opened his mouth to retort, but decided against it. Whether it was that her advice was sensible and pragmatic, or that her implied challenge had stirred a sense of masculine pride, he couldn’t rightly say. He forced his hands down and did his best
to endure the discomfort.

  ‘I still can’t see.’

  ‘Your sight should return soon.’

  ‘Where are we?’ he asked.

  ‘Heading south-west, out of the city.’ An increase in speed suggested they’d just joined a larger road. ‘With luck we can reach the safe house before dark.’

  ‘Safe house?’

  ‘We need a place to hold Lauren until I can organize an exchange.’ She must have jerked the wheel left to avoid a vehicle, because Alex felt himself pressed against the passenger door. ‘It’s over the border in Switzerland. Unfortunately, the tranquilizer will wear off long before then.’

  ‘What did you hit her with?’ He knew Lauren had gone quiet pretty quickly after Anya got hold of her.

  ‘Vecuronium bromide cut with sodium amytal.’ Perhaps sensing those chemicals meant little to him, she elaborated. ‘A combination we used back when I was an Agency field operative. It’s strong enough to induce paralysis and unconsciousness within seconds. The only drawback is that it tends to wear off quickly. I’ll have to dose her with a proper sedative when we stop.’

  ‘Wait, shouldn’t stopping be the last thing we want to do?’

  Anya didn’t respond.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, Alex was seated on the hood of their now stationary car, trying to look casual while watching traffic cruise past on the main road nearby. His eyes, still red from the pepper spray, were hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses.

  After leaving the bustling streets of central Paris and speeding along one of the main arteries leading out of the city for 15 minutes or so, Anya had decided it was time to deal with the unwilling passenger in the trunk. She had waited until they were in the midst of the Meudon national forest, just a couple of miles east of the palace of Versailles, before pulling over into a small car park.

  Alex was relegated to lookout duty in case some random civilians pulled in looking for a morning stroll in the woods, and instead found themselves face to face with a pair of kidnappers.