by Rob Sinclair
A few minutes earlier, they had passed the area where Grainger had been forced off the road last night. They’d both strained in the dark to see whether the two abandoned cars were still there. Sure enough, Lorik’s car was still tucked up in the field where they had left it. There were no obvious signs of anyone having been there. The broken headlight pieces were still at the side of the road where they’d left them and the fence that they’d hastily re-erected was holding its position. Altogether it suggested that there hadn’t been any major clean-up of the area. With any luck, that meant that the Slav’s body hadn’t yet been found by his accomplices.
They drove past the closed gates to Blakemore’s property, turned and parked up a farm track a hundred yards away. The car would be hidden from the road at least while it remained dark outside.
In the bright moonlight they could make out Blakemore’s farmhouse in the distance and what must have been a few acres of land, completely enclosed within a nine-foot-high white-painted wall, red tiles stacked on top. It was possible that some of the fields outside of the wall were his as well.
From the car, they walked back towards the farmhouse through the adjacent field, which didn’t seem to be anything more than a dust bowl. At least it hadn’t rained recently, otherwise it would have been like a bog. Logan led the way, Grainger never more than two steps behind him. He turned every now and then to make sure she was still with him.
With the clear, star-filled skies above them, there was enough moonlight for them to find their way through the field. There was also plenty of light coming from inside the compound to light up the area around it. But the clear skies also meant that there was a chill in the air: it was almost two a.m. and the night-time temperature was somewhere close to zero. They didn’t have a coat or a jacket between them and both shivered as they made their way towards the compound.
When they had passed in the car, they’d noted the arched wooden gates at the front of the property, twelve feet high at their peak. A keypad together with camera and infrared spotlight were the only obvious security. They had been unable to tell exactly where on the property the house was located. But as they approached from the side, they could now clearly make out the roof of the substantial house about sixty or so yards back from where the road was.
Logan slowed up as they neared the perimeter wall. He tried his best in the dark to look for any other signs of security, be it spotlights or cameras or guards. There didn’t appear to be anything. He signalled to Grainger with his hand, circling it in the air. She nodded and they carried on, doing a full circuit around the outside wall, scoping out the property. The wall housed two other standard-sized wooden doors, on opposite sides to each other, plus there was a large set of loading doors at the back, similar to the front gates, which led onto a farm track that carried away into the darkness. Each of the doors and the back gates had a camera and security keypad but nothing more sophisticated than that. And there were no spotlights like there were at the front.
The wall itself certainly wasn’t impregnable. Blakemore had gone for looks as much as anything, with the wall’s colour and styling fitting in well with the local architecture. It was, after all, supposed to be a private house and not fortified barracks, so that wasn’t a surprise. The problem, though, was knowing whether or not there was more security on the inside. There would certainly be additional cameras and spotlights, but there could also be dogs, armed guards and whatever else depending on how safety conscious –or paranoid –Blakemore was.
‘We should get ourselves inside,’ Logan whispered.
‘What? I thought we were just taking a look at the place?’ Grainger whispered back, shivering. She cupped her hands to her mouth and breathed into them to try to give them some warmth.
‘We are. But I want to look inside as well. Otherwise how do we know what we’re dealing with? Thought you knew that?’
She seemed unsure, but then joked, ‘Okay. Shall I knock or do you want to?’
Not laughing, Logan said, ‘We should go over at the back corner. You’d typically have more security at the front of a property anyway. And even from our quick recce, the back end seems to be the darkest spot.’
It took them a few minutes to cautiously retrace their steps, Logan again taking the lead. From the back corner, because of the angle, it wasn’t possible to see any of the house at all. There didn’t appear to be any lights on in the grounds immediately inside the wall either. Logan knew there was every possibility a spotlight would be positioned somewhere near and would come on as soon as they went over the wall.
But they were here now, and there was only one way to find out.
‘Can you take my weight?’ Logan said. ‘If you give me a bunk then I should be able to pull you up from the top. It’s not that high. It’ll be easier for you to push me than pull me.’
‘Yeah, go for it.’
She held out her hands, clasped together at waist height. Logan put his right foot onto them, ready to hoist himself upwards.
‘Ready?’ he said.
‘Yeah.’
He pushed as hard as he could, reaching up and grabbing the top of the wall. Grainger shifted on her feet, struggling to take his weight. Once he had managed to get both hands on the top of the wall he took the weight off her and hauled himself up.
The wall was only about six inches thick and it was hard for Logan to perch on the top. Particularly with the shape of the tiles, which were lying together to form an upside-down V, like a row of stacked cards.
‘What can you see?’ Grainger whispered up to him.
He did his best to shuffle round and get a look. Luckily no lights had focused on him and he didn’t notice anything of concern nearby. He could clearly see some security lights attached to the back of the house, though, which was about fifty yards away.
There were numerous lights on inside the farmhouse. They provided enough illumination for him to make out the basic layout of the grounds at the back of the house. Other than the paved area directly behind the house, it seemed to be mostly lawn. Directly below him and all along that part of the wall were thick bushes. There were two vehicles parked near to the house: an SUV and a panel van.
Most importantly, though, there was no sign of any guards or guard dogs.
‘I think we’re good to go,’ he said. ‘Grab hold of my hand.’
She was able to reach his hand without jumping. He was surprised at how icy her skin was. He could feel the chill in the air, but it hadn’t bothered him much. He’d learnt a long time ago how to block out things like cold. Much of the technique was mind over matter.
Despite her being light, it was still a struggle to pull Grainger up, the awkward shape of the tiles meaning he had to keep one arm on the wall for balance. She made it to the top and adjusted herself. They gave each other a nod and pushed their bodies over the edge, holding on to the top of the wall with their arms outstretched. Their bodies dangled down on the inside of the compound, just a few feet off the ground. On the count of three, they dropped the short distance, managing to avoid getting tangled in the bushes.
They both crouched low behind the foliage, waiting to see if anything or anyone had been alerted by their arrival. Satisfied that they were in the clear, Logan stood up, surveying the area once more.
‘I’m going to move forward, along the wall, toward the house,’ he said.
‘I’ll follow you.’
‘Okay, but keep your distance. Better to create two targets.’
‘I’m not planning on being a target for anyone. But okay.’
They crept along the wall, a few steps apart, with Logan in front. Every few seconds he turned to make sure Grainger was still there. She was, though in the darkness he couldn’t make out any detail, just that a figure of her size and shape was back there.
Suddenly a spotlight came on at the back of the house. Its beam reached out to within three yards of where Logan was standing.
Had he done that?
He was only about fifte
en yards from the house now. Although he wasn’t directly in the beam, the glare from the light was enough for him to be partially lit up. Anybody coming out the back of the house would be able to see him if they were to glance in his direction. He turned round, looking back to where Grainger was. He could make out her shape and indicated for her move back, but because she was still in the darkness and he was unable to fully see her, he couldn’t tell whether she had understood his signal.
Regardless, he began to creep back towards her, away from the light.
But then the back door to the house opened.
Logan turned his head towards the sound and froze. He had managed to move a few yards further away from the light. If he stayed still, he would hopefully remain out of sight.
He heard voices before he saw anyone. It was too distant to hear what they were saying, though. Two men emerged. The spotlight lit them up as well as if it had been daytime. Logan wondered whether they had turned the light on manually, rather than it having come on due to his presence. The men didn’t seem to be spooked by it being on, so he guessed it was probably the former.
The man who came out first was short and slight, dark skinned and dressed in black. He looked young. The second man was much taller and wider, light skinned with a face like a prized fighter. He was holding onto a third man who was half walking, half being dragged. The third man’s hands were tied together in front of him. There was a small brown sack over his head.
Modena, Logan thought. It had to be.
He risked a look back at Grainger. He almost jumped out of his skin when he saw her standing right behind him. She had crept up on him in absolute silence.
She sensed his surprise and put a finger to her lips. ‘That has to be him,’ she whispered.
He nodded, returned his gaze to the men. The short man opened the back doors of the van. It was parked with its rear facing the house and Logan couldn’t see into the back of it at all. The larger man pulled Modena to the van and bundled him in. All three were now out of sight, inside the van. The men were talking loudly to each other, possibly arguing, though Logan still couldn’t make out what they were saying. After a few seconds of banging, the bigger man came back into view and walked inside the house. A minute later he was followed by the short man.
‘What now?’ Grainger said. ‘That has to be Modena in the van. Should we go and get him?’
‘Maybe. But not yet. We need to be sure of what we’re doing when we go in. We should try to make it to the side of the house. We can hide there on the corner. That way we’ll be closer to the van and we’ll be more hidden than we are here. That spotlight doesn’t reach into the corner at all.’
‘Okay. But let’s do it quickly. We don’t want to be caught out in the light.’
They began to move forward, together this time, crouching low out of instinct. It wouldn’t make any difference, though, if someone was actually looking in their direction.
And they were almost directly in the centre of the spotlight’s beam, lit up for all to see, when the short man came back out of the door, assault rifle slung over his shoulder.
Chapter 37
Reggie was still on edge. This was taking too long now.
Come the hell on, he thought.
At least when this was done, they’d be more or less ready to go.
Reggie was back in the office. He had stuffed Modena in the van and had left Mustafa to collect up the weapons. Other than some of the computer equipment, there wasn’t much else they’d be taking with them.
‘Hey. Er, guys.’ Habib stood up from his computer, grinning from ear to ear. ‘I think this is it. We’ve got it!’
Reggie and Blakemore looked at each other, wide-eyed, then at Habib.
‘Let me see,’ Blakemore said, turning the screen toward him. ‘I don’t believe it. Son of a …Would you look at that! The most expensive name in the world.’
‘Told you I was close.’
‘Here, let me sit there,’ Blakemore said, nudging Habib out of the way so that he was at the keyboard. ‘I need to get this sent straight away. I don’t get paid until that name has gone. And neither do any of you.’
Blakemore began typing away. Reggie couldn’t help but smile. This was it. The end was in sight now. He looked over at Selim, who was once again standing over by the cabinet, his face emotionless.
‘When will the money arrive?’ Selim said.
‘It’s been in escrow, waiting,’ Blakemore said. ‘Once I’ve sent this, it’ll come through to me within the next few minutes. When it arrives, I’ll have to give the go-ahead for the transfer to you. And Reggie, for that matter. It’s all set up, ready to go; it’ll take no time at all. But we’re better off doing it later, and getting away from here first.’
‘Don’t worry, Richie. I’m sure I can trust you,’ Selim said. He smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. Selim looked over to Reggie, and the smile faded away almost instantly.
Reggie turned his attention back to Blakemore.
‘Okay, let’s get this lot packed up,’ Blakemore said after a couple of minutes. ‘We’re ready to move out of here.’
He got up and Habib began to dismantle the computer terminal.
‘No need to bother with that, Habib,’ Selim said. ‘We’ve got what we need already. Better off travelling light from now on.’
‘What do you mean?’ Blakemore protested. ‘We might need this stuff again.’
‘I’m not going to need it. And why would you? You’ve got what you want. You’ve got your precious name and the money. And I’ve got Modena.’
‘Sorry, what? You’ve got Modena? What the hell is that supposed to mean?’
‘It means you’ve got what you wanted from this, now it’s my turn to have some fun with him.’
Blakemore opened and closed his mouth but no words came out.
‘What, you thought I was just doing this for a bit of money?’ Selim sneered, the smile on his face showing that he was enjoying the moment. ‘Don’t be so naive, Richie. Don’t forget who I am. Modena is worth a lot more to me than a couple of million dollars. Believe me, a lot more. Modena’s mine now.’
Blakemore might have been slow to figure out what was happening, but Reggie wasn’t. Selim had set them up. Used them. He was going to take the money and Modena. Satisfy all of his cravings. He reached around to his back and began to pull out the handgun that was stuffed in the waistband of his jeans.
But he stopped when he felt cold metal sticking into the back of his neck.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ Mustafa said from behind him.
‘Reggie? Oh dear,’ Selim taunted, turning to face him. ‘Did you think you’d get away with that? Please, hands in the air. Then come over here, away from the door.’
Reggie fumed, angered at himself as much as anything else, for letting himself be caught put. He put his hands up and Mustafa pushed the gun harder against his neck, indicating for him to move. He did so and felt Mustafa remove the handgun from his waistband as he edged forward.
When he’d walked three paces Mustafa tossed the handgun over to Selim, who caught it one-handed whilst still maintaining eye contact with Reggie.
Reggie could see Blakemore begin to inch towards the door. But Selim had seen it too. He lifted his right arm and fired. The bullet hit Blakemore in his left thigh and he screamed out in pain.
‘Sit down, Richie.’
Selim reached out and pushed Blakemore back down into his seat. Then he turned the gun on Reggie.
Despite the turmoil inside, Reggie stood tall, defiant.
‘Any last words?’ Selim said.
Reggie didn’t have anything. His mouth was shut tightly, his nostrils flaring. He wasn’t going to beg. He wasn’t going to try to bargain.
Another gunshot rang out. Reggie stumbled backwards, falling onto one knee. He didn’t feel the pain at first. But when it came, it came with a vengeance. Reggie winced, gritting his teeth. But he didn’t cry out, not like Blakemore still was. He was det
ermined to show no weakness.
He looked down at his wound, pushed his hand onto it. Blood was pouring out onto his shirt, seeping down to his jeans. Thoughts circled in his mind as to how he could turn the situation around. He wasn’t finished. Not yet.
Mustafa calmly walked around to the front of Reggie, one of the AK-47s in his hands. Blakemore was still crying out; Selim had the handgun pointed at him, keeping him at bay. Reggie looked up at Mustafa, snarling, panting heavily. He would only get one chance.
Mustering as much strength as he could, he sprang to his feet, diving forward toward Mustafa. He caught the little man’s temple with his elbow as he flew into him, immediately grappling to take control of the rifle. Reggie got it and another shot rang out. But it wasn’t from the rifle.
Reggie released his grip on the gun and fell to the ground, lying flat on his back. There was a screaming pain in his chest.
‘Phew. That was a close one,’ Selim laughed. ‘You almost had me panicking there, Reggie. I thought for a second you might make it.’
Mustafa wiped at the blood coming from the wound above his eye, then picked up the rifle from the floor, pushing the barrel against Reggie’s head.
Reggie looked into Mustafa’s eyes. The boy looked scared. Panicked. Reggie wished he could have finished that little prick off. But there was no fight left in him now. He tried to move but couldn’t. His breaths were becoming slow and shallow, his vision blurry.
He blinked, then shut his eyes, but he opened them after a few seconds, trying to fight off the inevitable.
He could still hear Blakemore shouting. Screaming. Then he heard Selim’s voice.
‘Now, Richie, it’s just you and me. I think it’s about time we had a little talk. About my salary.’
Unable to hold on any longer, Reggie closed his eyes one last time.
Chapter 38