Dance with the Enemy (The Enemy Series)

by Rob Sinclair

  ‘I don’t want to be alone tonight,’ she said. ‘Not after what’s happened. We don’t even know whether there’s still someone after us.’

  His initial reaction to her words, before her clarification, had been that she wanted to be close to him for another reason. Was that what he wanted?

  How could he even be thinking like that after what had just happened?

  ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘You don’t need to explain. I agree with you. We’re obviously the target of someone now. We need to stay close from here.’

  ‘Twin beds, though,’ she said. ‘I’m not that easy.’

  She tried a smile, but it didn’t really work.

  The room they had was basic. There were two single beds, a desk attached to the wall with a kettle on top, an old-fashioned portable TV and bathroom with shower, no bath.

  ‘God, what are we even doing here?’ she said. ‘What am I doing here?’

  ‘Well, I know it’s not exactly the Ritz …’ Logan said, trying to make light of the situation, but neither of them were really in the mood.

  If she had even understood that he had been trying to be funny, she didn’t let on.

  ‘I meant here with you,’ she said. ‘I should be calling this in. Getting the police and the Feds down here.’

  Even though in many ways she was right, that was the last thing he wanted, and he was certainly glad that she hadn’t.

  ‘Why haven’t you?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know. For starters, they’d want to know what happened to me and I’d have to explain why there’s a dead man in that field. And why he’s got no face left.’

  Whether or not it had been her intention, her words stung him – the thought that perhaps she now thought less of him after the brutal way in which he’d killed Lorik. And he wasn’t quite sure why that was. Why did he even care what she thought? But thinking about it, he knew the answer. As much as he was trying to push the feeling to the back of his head, he was attracted to her. There was just something about her. And he wanted her to like him back.

  ‘But I know you wouldn’t want me to do that,’ she added.

  ‘Thanks. I think.’

  ‘And besides, if we really are going after the same thing then perhaps we should stick together.’

  Then why did you leave me stranded earlier in the day? Logan thought. But it wouldn’t have been right to question her about that now.

  ‘The man who attacked me …’

  She stopped and sat down on the bed.

  Logan wasn’t sure what she had wanted to say. He tried to fill in the blanks. ‘His name was Lorik,’ he said. ‘He’s one of the men who attacked me in the car park. The one who got away. I’m pretty sure he and Johnny worked for Blakemore.’

  ‘He must have followed us from the car park in Paris. How did we not even notice him? Then, when I left you there …’ She almost sounded ashamed of the fact. ‘I was heading towards Blakemore’s but I didn’t know exactly where to go. I was trying to call in to my team but couldn’t reach them. I was just driving along and he rammed me off the road. I didn’t even see him coming. Next thing I knew I was stuck in the middle of that field. I didn’t know what to do. I thought he was going to kill me.’

  I’m pretty sure he would have done a lot more than that, Logan thought.

  Grainger broke down in tears again. Logan thought about going over to her, trying to comfort her. In the end he didn’t. As much as he wanted to, he wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do.

  ‘I’m sorry I left you,’ she said. ‘I was just … just confused. I know you’re one of the good guys. But I have my orders. I’m trying to do things by the book.’

  ‘I know. You don’t have to explain that to me. We’re both okay. That’s the main thing.’

  ‘Before you turned up, I was hiding,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know where he was. Then I fired my gun in panic when I thought I heard him. Probably gave my position away. Next thing I knew he jumped me from behind.’

  ‘You don’t have to go through this with me,’ he said. But was that to protect him or her?

  ‘He spoke to me, before you arrived,’ she carried on, ignoring him. ‘He told me what he was going to do to me. I could tell he really wanted to as well.’

  He knew that talking about it was helping her to cope with the trauma, but it was hard for him to listen. It was painful to hear her words, bringing back too many memories. Not just of what had happened today.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Listen to me, going on about myself like this. We need to get you seen to.’

  ‘I’m fine. If you want to talk, you should.’

  ‘No. I don’t think I do want to. Not right now. Let’s get you cleaned up.’

  ‘Yeah, I guess. I’ll take a shower first, get rid of the dried blood.’

  He went to the bathroom and undressed out of his soiled clothes. He deliberately avoided looking at himself in the mirror. At first, the hot water in the shower made him wince as it washed over the wounds on his face. After a while, though, he became used to the sensation and started to feel it soothing him, calming him. His hands, which had stopped trembling, were still throbbing and aching. But the hot water was helping them too, creating a pleasant burning similar to having come into a warm house after being out in the cold for too long.

  When he was finished he wrapped a towel around his waist. It only just fitted. He used a hand towel to mop at his face, which was still bleeding. Only then did he look into the mirror.

  Not at his face, but at his scars.

  He’d never seen them as a badge of honour. He hadn’t flaunted them as a sign of his strength or superiority, even though to many women they’d made him appear to be some sort of battle-hardened warrior. In the past, he’d never held any emotions towards them at all.

  But that was all different now. To the new Logan, they told the story of a lost soul. Of a lifetime of pain and suffering that was easier to ignore than to confront.

  Since his encounter with Selim, he’d not shown his scars to anyone other than the doctors and carers who had rehabilitated him. He wasn’t sure whether that was through embarrassment or fear or what. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

  But he felt different today. Like he wanted to share the emotions with someone else. With Grainger. Share his suffering with her.

  Wasn’t it about time he faced his fears?

  What exactly was it that he feared anyway? Rejection? Ridicule?

  He wasn’t going to hide anymore. He had seen her at her most vulnerable, now it was his turn.

  With just the towel wrapped around his waist, he headed back into the bedroom, stood in the doorway, waited for her reaction.

  Grainger was still sitting on one of the beds. She looked up at him and her eyes inspected him for a few moments, but she didn’t say a word.

  He was almost disappointed.

  ‘Come on then, let’s do this,’ she said.

  She indicated for him to come over and he went and sat next to her on the bed.

  After a long look at his face, she said, ‘There’re two cuts that need doing. One at the top of your nose and one above your right eye. Are you sure your nose isn’t broken? It doesn’t look quite right.’

  ‘It’s just swollen. It’s been crooked for years. An old war wound.’

  ‘You were in the army?’ she said, sounding surprised.

  ‘No, never. Just a figure of speech.’

  He turned his gaze and caught her staring at his chest, at his scars. She averted her eyes quickly.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said.

  ‘What for?’ he asked. When she didn’t answer, he said, ‘Aren’t you going to ask about them?’

  ‘No. If you want to tell me, you will.’

  He’d never talked to anyone about them properly. Not really. The psychologist had pried but he’d only told enough to keep her off his back. Other people had seen them, but he hadn’t delved into the stories that lay behind them.

  Dejected, he
said, ‘Put some of the alcohol on first.’

  ‘I know. Are you ready?’

  Before he could answer, she pressed the alcohol-soaked cotton wool against his eyebrow. He jolted with shock more than pain. It made her laugh, and for just a fleeting second her smile was back.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t resist that. It’s like having a Band-Aid removed when you’re a kid. One, two, rip. Take away the anticipation, take away the pain.’

  ‘Are you sure you were never a nurse?’ he joked.

  ‘Very funny.’

  She managed the threading without any issues; four stitches in his eyebrow, three in his nose. It hurt pretty badly, but he’d had a lot worse.

  ‘What about your hands?’ she said.

  They were still throbbing and were about fifty per cent bigger than normal from the swelling.

  ‘They’ll be fine,’ he answered. ‘I just need some anti-inflammatories to ease the swelling.’

  They’d bought both a gel and tablets. He would use both.

  ‘They must hurt like hell,’ she said.

  Logan just shrugged.

  ‘You’re one tough guy, Carl.’

  He wasn’t sure whether she was being sarcastic or not. She collected together the rubbish and walked over to the bin by the desk.

  ‘Can I ask you a question?’ she said.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘What were you thinking? Back in the field. I mean, what was going through your head? I’ve never seen anyone like that before. It was like you weren’t even there.’

  ‘I don’t remember,’ he lied. ‘I just knew I had to save you. Me too, for that matter. He would have killed us both given half a chance.’

  She didn’t seem to buy the explanation, which hadn’t really answered her question, but she didn’t press the issue.

  ‘I really am grateful, you know,’ she said.

  ‘I know. Thanks.’

  ‘Have you, you know … Is that the first time you’ve –’

  ‘Killed a man?’ Logan said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘No, it’s not.’

  Grainger stared at him for a few seconds. Logan could see a whole world of emotions going through her mind.

  ‘I never have,’ she said, almost ashamedly.

  ‘It’s not something I brag about. It’s just my job.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just hard to imagine what it must be like. I never even fired my gun in the line of duty before today.’

  ‘They weren’t good people, the ones I killed,’ Logan asserted. ‘And it was them or me. You saw that much today.’

  ‘I guess,’ Grainger said, getting to her feet. ‘I should clean myself up.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  She headed to the bathroom. Logan dressed in the new clothes, tossing his soiled ones into the empty shopping bag.

  He thought about calling Mackie, but decided against it. He didn’t need to be babysat. As hard as Mackie might have fought it, Logan always strove to act independently, and in the past he had regularly gone without speaking to his boss for days at a time. Though the main reason for not calling this time was because he didn’t want to have to explain what had happened today.

  Grainger came back out of the bathroom a few minutes later, fully dressed but with a towel wrapped around her hair. Even after everything, and as hard as he tried not to think about it, she looked great.

  ‘You hungry?’ he said.

  ‘Not really. You?’

  ‘No. But we should try to eat something anyway.’

  They’d bought some snack food earlier: crisps, nuts, chocolates, fizzy drinks. All they had found food wise was a convenience store, so it was the best they could get. Not surprisingly, they weren’t really in the mood for eating out. There was nothing of real substance there, but it would keep them going. Logan began to tuck in. Eventually, Grainger relented and did the same.

  They ate mostly in silence and it was nearly nine o’clock by the time they finished. Despite the sugary food, their energy levels were waning.

  ‘You going to call your boss?’ Logan asked.

  ‘I don’t have to, no. He can call me if there are any developments. And like I said, it would be quite hard to explain to them what’s happened today. Especially why I haven’t come in after nearly being killed. And the whole thing with the police. God, what a mess.’

  She put her head in her hands.

  ‘You told him about the link to Blakemore, though, didn’t you?’

  ‘No,’ she said, looking up at him.

  He raised an eyebrow. That was a surprise. ‘No? The police still don’t know?’

  ‘I don’t know what the police know. I wanted to check it out myself first. Blakemore’s place, I mean. And I’m here for the FBI, so it would be my boss there that I called in the first instance, not the French police. But I don’t have to tell the Feds every time I tie my shoelace. I wanted to make sure this link was credible.’

  So she really had doubted the link when he’d first told her about it. Well, she certainly didn’t doubt it anymore. Despite himself, Logan couldn’t help but feel vindicated by that. But he was also angry. They could have both been killed today, and the situation certainly hadn’t been helped by her stranding him and running off after Blakemore alone.

  ‘And how exactly were you going to determine if the link was credible?’ Logan said, the irritation in his voice clear. ‘Knock on his front door and ask him nicely?’

  She frowned at him. ‘Why, was that what you had planned, action man?’

  He shrugged his shoulders, conceding the point. He hadn’t needed to be facetious. It was hardly her fault that she had almost been raped and killed, even if she had been reckless.

  ‘I just wanted to check it out first,’ she added. ‘See what I was dealing with before I brought anyone else in.’

  ‘Okay, I’m sorry. And you’re right. We should still do that. Check out his place, I mean. And soon.’

  ‘Soon?’

  ‘Let’s get some rest now. We need it. We can’t wait too long, though – just a couple of hours. It’ll be harder to scope out the place in the dark, but at least it’ll provide better cover for us than in the daytime.’

  ‘Agreed.’

  ‘Let’s get some sleep now then.’

  ‘So how do we do this?’ she said.

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Well, are you just getting into bed like that? Fully dressed?’

  ‘I’ll close my eyes if you’re feeling a bit shy,’ he said.

  She blushed.

  ‘It’s not that, Logan. To be honest, I was actually regretting getting a room with two beds. It’s kind of comforting having someone else close to you.’

  Logan turned red as well. Her comment had been unexpected but she was understandably feeling vulnerable, and he felt a bit foolish about being so childish. It was just his way of dealing with an awkward situation.

  ‘These are bigger than singles anyway,’ Logan said, patting the bed that he was sitting on. ‘We can both squeeze onto here.’

  He lay down on the bed, fully clothed, flat on his back on top of the covers. She came and lay down next to him. After setting the alarm on the clock radio for midnight, he turned out the lights and shut his eyes.

  Chapter 33

  ‘Listen to me, Frank, those other two are loose cannons. They’re uncontrollable. You should hear the things they’re saying outside of this room. They want you dead, Frank. They honestly believe you can’t help us and they want you dead. Because killing you is a much easier solution than just giving you back. You have to tell us what we need.’

  Modena had his head down and his eyes closed. He could hear the words being spoken to him and recognised that they were from the slight man – the kind one – but his brain was a few seconds behind in processing them. The lack of food and water and the increasing physical and mental torture were quickly taking their toll. Sounds were more like echoes in his head. He was never quite sure whether h
e was awake or asleep. The one thing he was sure about was the pain. Each time the big man or Selim was in the room with him, the pain they inflicted was all too real.

  Youssef Selim. Modena had long been aware of the man. His reputation. Not just as a terrorist but as a sadist. The stories of his victims were many and varied. He claimed to be a jihadist, but other than his religion and hatred for Westerners he shared little of the ideology of what most people would associate with Islamic extremists. He brokered arms deals. He trained terrorists for profit. He was, essentially, a capitalist. A capitalist with a penchant for inflicting pain and misery upon others.

  Modena knew what they were asking of him. What he couldn’t understand was why the information was of any interest to Selim. And that was what worried him most. Because Selim seemed intent on only one thing: hurting Modena. And so even if he was able to give the information they wanted, would that really stop Selim?

  ‘Frank, are you listening to me?’

  Modena groaned and tried to lift his head, but then hung it down again.

  ‘Money,’ he slurred. ‘You can take it all. Just don’t let him hurt me anymore.’

  ‘It’s not money they want from you, Frank. Don’t you understand that? They’re already getting money for this. That’s why they’re doing it. They’ll get paid, but only if you give them what they want. That information is worth a lot of money. But if you don’t give it to them then it’s all over. All over for them. All over for you. All over for me.’

  Modena shook his head. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since Selim was last in the room with him, a few hours maybe, but the pain was still coursing through his entire body. At the tips of eight of his fingers the metal nails remained, dug deep into his flesh. The fingernails had been torn clean off the other two when Selim tried to hammer in the nail. Surprisingly, when Modena focused on them, those two seemed to be less painful than the others. But the throbbing in his hands was constant, and every few minutes a bout of drowsiness would wash over him as his body battled against the agony.

  ‘Frank, you’ve only got a few minutes until Selim comes back in here. There’s only one thing that’s going to stop him. Just tell me what they need to know.’