Shadow Conflict

by Shadow Conflict (epub)

  ‘Why?’ she asked then. ‘Why would you do all that for me?’

  Cain let out a breath, some of his fury dissipating as he thought back to that hospital ward in Pakistan 20 years ago. The image of that wretched, emaciated, scarred and broken young woman would be etched into his mind until his dying day. Even now, the thought of his Anya lying there like that was enough to break his heart.

  ‘Because I saw what you’d gone through,’ he said, his voice quieter now. ‘What they did to you in Afghanistan… it should have killed you, Anya. It would have killed anyone else, but somehow you made it back. I knew how hard you’d fought, how much you’d sacrificed, and I couldn’t bear to see them kill you for it.’

  With a slow, deliberate movement he reached into his jacket pocket, seeing her ready herself in case it was a weapon.

  ‘Remember when you gave me these?’ Cain asked, laying Anya’s dog tags on the table. The old chain rattled as it hit the wooden surface.

  Anya stared at the tags with haunted eyes, slowly reaching out and lifting them, turning them over in her hand. The metal was faded and dulled with age, but the marks stamped into them were still legible.

  ‘It never got better than that night,’ he said sadly. ‘The whole rest of my life. It’s been empty without the woman who gave me those tags. Even if she was a lie, she was real to me. And I would have died to protect her.’

  Anya let out a ragged, painful breath.

  ‘She was real to me too,’ she said softly. ‘And I believed as she did.’

  Just for a moment, Cain sensed the scales starting to tip, that his words were making their way through the layers of anger and hatred and bitterness, and he felt his heart quicken in the knowledge that he was close to reaching her.

  Just for a moment.

  ‘But that young woman is gone now,’ Anya said, regaining her self-control. Shutting him out. ‘She died in Afghanistan, and so did the things she believed in. Now I’m all that’s left.’ She looked up at him, her eyes hardening. ‘I made mistakes back then. I don’t deny it, but I paid for those mistakes. What did you do? You say you protected me, but you protected yourself first. Everything you did was to serve your own interests. You released me from prison in Russia so I could kill the enemies you couldn’t reach, settle old scores with old rivals. You let me fight your battles for you, while you clawed your way into power. Well, your enemies are gone now – all except one.’

  Her left hand had moved just a little, perhaps getting ready to draw the weapon she had hidden beneath the table. Perhaps ready to kill him at that very moment.

  He should have felt afraid, but he didn’t. All he felt was disappointment.

  ‘Careful what you do. Enough wars almost started at this spot,’ Cain urged her, indicating over his shoulder, where two of his men were stationed on the sidewalk. Their weapons were hidden, but both were keeping a wary eye on every movement Anya made.

  He was quite certain a soldier of Anya’s calibre would have spied them already, but it didn’t hurt to remind her of her situation. Four more agents armed with concealed submachine guns were stationed on the other side of the street, ready to intervene, not to mention electronic surveillance and covert operatives covering the building from every conceivable angle, from snipers and spotters in neighbouring buildings to ground and mobile units standing by.

  For all his forlorn hopes of reaching a peaceful resolution, Cain had come expecting war, and wars demanded an army.

  ‘Wouldn’t want all these innocent people to get hurt in the crossfire,’ he added. The café was busy with civilians, easily 20 or more, from old couples enjoying a quiet coffee to a group of young tourists, to a tired-looking family with a pair of kids squabbling over a slice of cake.

  None of them aware that a battle could erupt around them at any moment.

  * * *

  In the makeshift command centre at Potsdamer Platz barely half a mile away, Javadi was poring over security camera footage from around the café, frantically searching for evidence of their enemy’s arrival.

  He found what he was looking for. Anya and her hostage Lauren emerging from a parked van, along with a very unlikely pair of accomplices. One was a young boy no more than 10 years old, the other a soft-looking civilian.

  The boy quickly darted off, and Anya and Lauren left for the café shortly after, but the man climbed back into the van. Javadi scrolled rapidly through the footage, waiting for the van to depart or the man to leave, but neither happened.

  And as playback caught up with real time, he realized that Anya’s accomplice was still in the van.

  ‘All teams,’ he said into his radio. ‘Be advised, we have possible suspect and getaway vehicle on site.’ He quickly reeled off the location and a description of the van.

  It didn’t take long for Hawkins to seize on it. ‘Copy that. Delta team, move in and take him down. Everyone else, stand by.’

  Chapter 59

  Alex had been listening in on the exchange with Cain in shocked, awestruck silence, stunned by the raw emotion and deeply buried grudges that had been unearthed. He couldn’t say whether Anya had intended for him to hear all of this, whether he should have cut the feed, but either way he’d listened, spellbound.

  However, it was clear that their verbal sparring was nearing its end. The tension was becoming unbearable.

  ‘He’s telling the truth, Anya,’ Alex whispered into his radio mic. ‘The place is sealed up tight as a drum. If you start shooting, it’s going to be a fucking slaughter.’

  Yasin concurred with his assessment. ‘The men outside are ready to move.’

  She didn’t reply. Alex knew she wouldn’t, but he had to warn her anyway. It was the only thing he could do.

  ‘Whatever you’re going to do, do it now.’

  * * *

  Anya’s expression changed then, her smile cold and merciless. Reaching up, she unzipped her jacket to reveal what Cain immediately recognized as a Kevlar vest. Hardly surprising considering the odds she was facing, but the vest itself wasn’t what he was looking at – it was what she’d strapped to it.

  A pair of anti-personnel mines were fixed to the front of her vest, their distinctive curved plastic cases painted a drab olive green. Russian in origin, he’d have guessed MON-50s or some derivative. He knew them well enough – the Soviets had scattered tens of thousands across Afghanistan two decades earlier, many of which had been recovered by Anya and her comrades for use against the very troops who’d planted them.

  He knew a lot about these weapons – enough to be certain that the two strapped to her were more than capable of killing every living thing in the room.

  The hand that Anya had kept hidden beneath the table now moved into view, but it wasn’t holding a blade or gun. It was an electronic detonator, the conducting wire hidden inside the sleeve of her jacket.

  ‘Recognize this?’ she asked Cain. ‘It’s a negative pressure trigger, just like the Agency taught us to build, and it’s armed. The second my finger slips off it, the device detonates.’

  Rising calmly to her feet, Anya held her arms out wide, allowing everyone a full view of the makeshift suicide vest she was wearing.

  ‘Allahu Akbar!’ she called out loudly. ‘Allahu Akbar!’

  The screaming started within seconds as the café’s patrons recognised the words that had been plastered across internet forums, news broadcasts and magazines for years, and panic set in. People scrambled for the exit, desperate to escape.

  * * *

  ‘Oh, shit!’ Hawkins heard over the radio net as the rooftop spotters reacted to the scene unfolding in the café. ‘She’s wearing a suicide vest!’

  He was moving in seconds, drawing his weapon as panicked civilians spilled out of the café.

  ‘Talk to me,’ he said into his radio. ‘Anyone got a shot?’

  ‘There’s too many people in the way,’ his sniper leader replied. ‘Can’t get a clean shot without killing civilians.’

  It took Hawkins about half a
second to make his decision. ‘Fuck them.’ He’d long since stopped thinking of civilian casualties in terms of the grieving families he’d be creating. ‘Sniper teams, you are weapons free. Drop the hammer on that bitch.’

  No sooner had he issued this instruction than Cain’s angry voice came over the radio. ‘Belay that order!’ he snarled. ‘All units hold back! Nobody moves an inch unless I say so.’

  Hawkins’ pace slowed, until he had come to a stop facing the café. From this range he could see Anya quite clearly through the windows. A single well-placed shot would be enough to take her out.

  ‘What are we doing, boss?’ the operative beside him hissed, torn between the conflicting orders and trying to decide which man he feared most.

  Hawkins gritted his teeth. ‘Hold your position.’

  Javadi’s voice crackled in his ear. ‘Got emergency calls going out all over the place,’ he said, urgent voices calling out in the background. ‘Everyone with a cell phone is trying to get the police on the line.’

  ‘Can you shut them down?’ Hawkins asked.

  ‘Not for long.’ Hawkins could hear him working manically at his keyboard. ‘You’ve got three or four minutes, tops, before the Berlin police start to mobilize.’

  * * *

  Several blocks away, in a car fighting its way through busy Berlin traffic, Lauren Cain reacted in horror as reports from field operatives played out through the encrypted radio unit mounted on the dash.

  ‘She’s wearing a suicide vest!’

  She heard the voice of the man who had bundled her into the car. ‘Talk to me. Anyone got a shot?’

  ‘There’s too many people in the way. Can’t get a clean shot without killing civilians.’

  ‘Fuck them. Sniper teams, you are weapons free. Drop the hammer on that bitch.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ she breathed, realizing that not only was her father in mortal danger, but that the men he’d employed were cold-blooded murderers, happy to kill innocent people to take down their target.

  Everything she believed in seemed to be unravelling. Her father knew who they were, what they were, and he’d sent them anyway. Because those were the kind of men he used. Those were the things he did.

  Alex had been right.

  ‘Take us back,’ she pleaded.

  ‘No way, ma’am,’ the driver said. ‘I’ve got orders to get you out of here.’

  ‘Screw your orders!’ Lauren shouted. ‘That’s my father back there!’

  ‘I don’t give a shit, kid,’ he replied, his polite veneer slipping. ‘You’re coming with me.’

  Lauren’s next move was one of desperation. Waiting until they were obliged to slow by congestion, she suddenly threw open her door and bolted from the vehicle.

  ‘Help!’ she screamed, sprinting away even as the driver jumped out in pursuit. ‘Someone help me! That man’s trying to kidnap me!’

  She didn’t know if anyone would believe her, much less have the nerve to challenge the intimidating-looking operative, but it might just give her the edge as she ran, darting between the startled pedestrians and heading back the way she had come.

  Back to her father. Back to Anya. Back to Alex.

  * * *

  ‘We’re live,’ the technician said, checking the video footage being streamed via his laptop. ‘The boss isn’t streaming the feed yet, but we’re broadcasting.’

  Riley smiled. ‘Good. Let me know when he tunes in,’ she instructed, then paused as another idea occurred to her. ‘Oh, and Sharpe?’

  The man glanced up from his screen.

  ‘Record the whole thing. I’ll want to watch it back later.’

  Drake heard the rasp of a knife being drawn, and watched as Riley revealed a blade that was hooked so that it appeared bent almost at right angles. Clearly this was no conventional weapon, but rather a tool intended to inflict a specific trauma and suffering.

  ‘You like it?’ she asked, turning it slowly so that its edge gleamed in the glow of the work lights. ‘It’s a gelding knife – a little gift from Jason. He said I’d know what to do with it.’

  Drake imagined a woman with her penchant for torture would figure it out pretty fast.

  ‘Now I’ve got to admit, I’ve never used one of these bad boys before, so my work might be a little rough. But we’ve all got to start somewhere, right? How else are we supposed to learn?’

  She was taunting him, making him sweat, trying to accomplish psychologically what she couldn’t do physically. Drake held her gaze even as she lowered the blade towards his groin.

  ‘Do us both a favour and use it on yourself first,’ Frost said in disgust. ‘And spare us the “little girl acting tough” bullshit.’

  Riley approached Frost. ‘You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that,’ she decided. ‘Not the kind I can use this knife on, obviously, but balls all the same.’

  Reaching out, she ran her hand gently down Frost’s cheek as if she were caressing a lover, while the knife strayed lower, tracing the contours of her breasts and snagging occasionally on her T-shirt. Frost glared at her, forcing herself not to move, not to show fear or revulsion.

  ‘You know, that’s something I really like in a girl,’ Riley whispered, leaning closer as if to kiss her.

  Then, suddenly, she seized a fistful of Frost’s hair and yanked her head back, bringing the blade up to her face.

  ‘Another thing Jason told me about this knife,’ she hissed as Frost started to struggle. ‘It’s real good for removing eyes. The trick is to get the angle just right, then you can sever the optic nerve and scoop the eyeball out in one piece.’

  ‘No!’ Drake shouted, trying to rise, only to be kicked back down by the man behind him.

  ‘He tries that again, put one through his kneecap,’ Riley ordered the operative.

  ‘Count on it,’ the man replied, disengaging the P90’s safety.

  Riley allowed the blade to stray closer to Frost’s left eye, the tip just touching her cheek. ‘Tell me, how are those big brave balls of yours now?’

  Frost was forcing herself to stay quiet, knowing how badly the young operative wanted to do it. Drake could see her trembling as the blade crept closer, millimetre by millimetre, knowing at any moment it would start slicing and gouging soft and vulnerable flesh.

  Chapter 60

  The last of the terrified customers were shoving their way out the door and spilling into the street, where their panic was rapidly spreading to others. Like frightened sheep flocking together, people began retreating in both directions, most having no idea what they were running from.

  Only one of the café’s serving staff remained. A gangly kid of no more than 18 with greasy skin and a wispy goatee, he was cowering behind the counter, stupidly pressed against the wall. He’d been paralysed by fear when the others fled.

  ‘If you value your life, I would leave now,’ Anya said to him, gesturing towards the exit.

  Finally that seemed to push him into action. Vaulting clumsily over the counter, scattering a plastic cabinet full of cookies, he tore across the room and out the door.

  Only Cain remained, still seated at the table, watching Anya with shrewd contemplation. ‘Clever,’ he acknowledged. ‘I thought you’d have something up your sleeve.’

  ‘We have nothing more to say to each other, Marcus,’ Anya said, taking her seat once more. ‘We came to make an exchange. You have your daughter, I want Drake and Frost.’ She held the detonator up a little higher. ‘Now.’

  Cain looked at her.

  ‘Of course,’ he said, taking out his cell phone.

  Rather than making a call, however, he accessed a live stream from a web camera. It showed two people kneeling side by side in a poorly lit construction site, their heads lowered, hands bound behind their backs, their clothes ragged and bloodstained. A man and woman.

  Even on the slightly grainy digital image, Anya recognized Drake and Frost.

  ‘Where are they?’ she demanded.

  ‘Not far. And they’re safe, for n
ow.’ Cain was clearly not going to give her more than that. ‘But one word from me, and you get to watch them executed live over the internet. If you blow the bomb, same deal. You’re not the only one who can rig a dead man’s trigger.’ He paused for a moment, allowing the threat to sink in. ‘On the other hand, if you give yourself up peacefully, I promise you they’ll both be allowed to go free. That’s my offer – take it or leave it. It’s that simple.’

  Anya burned with fury, the realization dawning that he still held the upper hand. Cain was holding the only people she still cared about, and anything except her total compliance would mean their immediate deaths.

  ‘There’s no sense in prolonging this. You’ve shown me your hand, and I’ve shown you mine. You’ve got no more cards to play. Fold.’

  She didn’t make a move, didn’t take her finger off the trigger.

  ‘Tell me, how did you imagine this playing out?’ he asked. ‘Did you really expect me to let you just walk away? Come on, Anya. We both know how this has to end. The place is surrounded. You’re outgunned, outnumbered and out of options. This is one game you’re not going to win.’

  He was expecting her to capitulate. Even if it went against her nature, even if she would rather die than surrender, she had to know that here, at last, she was beaten. Out of time and out of choices, the only thing left was to admit defeat.

  But she didn’t. Instead, Anya’s lips parted in a faint, ironic smile. She was about to reveal her winning hand.

  ‘That’s what you still don’t understand, Marcus,’ she said quietly. ‘I didn’t come here to win. I came to get even.’

  Chapter 61

  For an agonising couple of seconds, Riley held the blade beside Frost’s eye, not moving or blinking. Just listening to Frost’s rapid breathing, watching the fear course through her.

  ‘What do you think, Drake?’ She called out. ‘Jason was big on giving you choices, so I’ll let you decide. Left eye or right? If you won’t choose, I’ll just go ahead and take both of them.’