Maltese Steel

by Stuart Field

  ‘Good morning to you too,’ Steel said lightly, ‘So, where are you…. what are you wearing?’

  ‘At home, I just got out of the shower,’ she snarled, still trying to mop up the liquid from the cloth seat. Suddenly, her gaze fell onto the blacked-out Land Rover. She cursed the fact she had missed it and quickly exited her car. As she headed for the other side of the road, she heard heavy footsteps behind her, she turned to see Steel running fast towards her.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Steel asked as he saw her pull her 9mm Masada Striker from the holster in the small of her back.

  ‘Trouble,’ she said, nodding towards the Land Rover. Slowly, with her pistol gripped tightly, Samara made her way around towards the passenger's side of the vehicle. At the same time, Steel crept towards the driver's side. If there was a driver, he would either drive off or bolt out of the door and start running. If Steel was in position, he could take him down silently. Steel waited at the door, checking the wing mirror, but he saw no driver. Samara swung the weapon around, the barrel targeting the driver's side – but it was empty.

  ‘There’s no one there,’ she said loud enough for Steel to hear.

  ‘They must all be inside. Did you get a look at them?’ Steel asked. Samara felt embarrassed for a second. She had taken her eyes off the house for a second, but that had been enough.

  ‘No…I, never mind, come on,’ she ordered.

  ‘You got a backup gun?’ Steel asked.

  ‘Why? You scared?’ she mocked.

  ‘Of you shooting me in the arse? Absolutely.’

  ‘No, sorry,’ she lied and pushed forwards towards the front door.

  ‘Got a plan?’ she asked. Steel remembered the layout of the house, possible exit points.

  ‘Take the back, and be careful’ Steel ordered as she came up beside him.

  ‘You sure? They could be armed, maybe I should take the front?’ Steel shook his head.

  ‘It won't matter either way whether you are front or back if they are armed,’ Steel said. ‘If someone is in there, they would be in the sitting room or bedrooms by now. We’ll just have to go steady. You clear the ground floor, I’ll take upstairs.’ Samara nodded and headed for the rear of the house; her weapon gripped in two hands ready.

  Steel reached to the front door to find it had been kicked open. The door frame splintered, and pieces of wood and metal littered the floor. Steel moved inside slowly, hugging the corners as he went. He did not know what to expect, but if these were the same people who tried to grab Samara, they would be armed and dangerous.

  Steel stopped at the bottom of the staircase and slowly followed it up. Steel knew Samara would be clearing the lower levels while he took the first floor. He clung to the wall and kept his feet to the sides of each step where it was strongest. The last thing he needed was a creak from a floorboard to alert the invaders.

  He would take each step slowly and carefully. Then he would stop and listen.

  Step, stop, listen.

  Step, stop, listen.

  Adrenaline seeped through his body. Still, his heart rate was regular, he was transfixed on what he was doing. Years of training was being engaged, set into motion.

  Step – stop – listen.

  Step – stop… his gaze fell through the bannister on the upper floor. The long corridor, a straight line down to the end room. Four doors either side, bedrooms, and bathrooms. Steel’s sunglass covered eyes scanned for any signs of the goons or Foster.

  Steel froze and ducked down. A large hulk of a guy came to the top of the stairs. Steel could feel his heart start to race. The man was muscular, but small in height than to Steel, but it did not matter. It was either too much time in the gym of a chemical cocktail, either way, the man wouldn’t be going down easy. Steel crouched lower, hoping to make himself seem smaller and lower to the ground. Steel could not afford for the guy to signal his partners, he did not know where Samara was, she could be coming up on one of the others, ready to strike. An alarm no could blow the whole show.

  Steel waited for the man to spot him, possibly pull out a gun or leap at him. A million scenarios raced through Steel’s mind, could he get to the man before anything happened, where the others just behind him and he had not yet seen them.

  Steel braced himself. Hoping just staying still would make him unnoticeable until the last second.

  The man took his post at the top of the stairs, and then Steel saw it. The cell phone in the guy’s hand. He was too busy texting on his phone to have seen Steel. The guy was laughing at whatever he was reading or possibly a video someone had sent him.

  Steel only cared that the guy was busy, and he had not seen Steel.

  Steel exhaled carefully and moved slowly, trying to keep out of the man’s peripheral vision.

  The man stood solid at the top of the stairs. His legs were shoulder-width apart, while the back of his heals rested on the edge of the first step. He looked like a bouncer at a club. His concentration was on the video someone had sent him on his phone. The men were not expecting anyone to be in the house, they would have seen the family leave or have struck earlier. No, these men were looking for something, and they did not need a witness. Which would explain their relaxed nature. They probably figured they had all the time in the world.

  Steel loved overconfidence. It was one of those double-edged traits. If you were selling something, or a reporter, or chatting to a beautiful woman, it was perfect. However, if you were a bad guy who did not account for a counterattack, leave someone at the door or have proper surveillance on-going – it was deadly.

  Yes, he really loved overconfidence – and these guys, had it by the bucket load.

  Steel smiled as he crept up behind the man. Steel knew grabbing the man’s shoulders and pulling him back would work, however, if he got the timing wrong, it may well be him who got flung down the stairs. Steel inched forward, his gaze switching between the guy’s head and his feet – or rather his ankles that were at the edge of the first step.

  Steel moved slowly, inch by inch. He made his breathing shallower, in through the nose out through the mouth.

  Steel was getting closer. So close, in fact, he could smell the guy’s body odour. Steel turned his head and sucked in a breath of clean air. He was convinced the big guy hadn’t showered before they had come out – possibly for days before.

  Steel found a good foothold and slowly reached towards the guy’s legs. Steel figured it wouldn’t take much effort on his part, the guy was standing legs wide apart, he was off-balance, and besides, he wouldn’t be expecting it.

  Steel grabbed the man’s ankles – and yanked.

  The big guy’s face smashed against the top step and then bounced off the steps as gravity dragged him down, leaving a bloody streak. The brute was out cold and need some dental work when he woke, judging by front teeth embedded in the wood.

  Steel couched near the top step. He listened for any sound. Waiting for the others to come rushing out. Half expecting goons to rush out into the hallway, guns and knives ready.

  But there was silence, and nobody came.

  Steel went back to the big man and checked him for weapons but found nothing apart from a cell phone. Steel grabbed that and stuck into his pocket. Looking back up the stairs, Steel could hear a cry of pain.

  Foster.

  Steel clenched and unclenched his fists, prepared to move in. His friend was in trouble, and there was no knowing what the hell they were doing to him in that end room. Foster’s screams grew louder; the closer Steel got. But he did not lose focus, he had closed off his emotions, these would just cloud his judgment. Steel needed to be cold and unemotional.

  There were unknown numbers of people in that room. There could be only one guy, which meant there were two loose in the house, or, all three men could be in the room. Which then led to a more interesting question, where the hell was Samara? She should have made it to him by now. So, if she wasn’t kicking the shit out of a bad guy, what was keeping her?

  St
eel moved slowly down the corridor, following the sounds emanating from the room at the end. He knew there were only three men left. He figured there were at least two guys in with Foster. Which then led to the question where the third guy was.

  Steel would have preferred taking down one man at a time, it made the situation easier to control. Fighting more than one at a time was always difficult. Because they never fought one at a time like in the movies, they would gang up, surround, use weapons. Steel could handle himself for sure, and he had taken several people down at once, but never come out ungrazed. He’d lost many a good suit and gotten plenty of bruises and stitches due to dirty fighting.

  As Steel moved down the hallway, he froze. Someone had just used the bathroom was behind him. But the door had been slightly open, and there had been no sound. Had the guy gone for a leak sitting down? There was a bronze statue of a man on a small table in front of him, Steel grabbed it. He could hear the man whistling to himself. Apparently, life was good – but wouldn’t be for long. Steel swung the figure as he twisted at the waist, catching the guy coming out of the bathroom across the forehead, forcing him back into the wall and knocked him out cold. Steel noted the two lines just above his nose, where the square base had impacted.

  Steel checked the guy, but he had nothing except a bone-handled penknife and a cell phone. Puzzled, Steel left the man and turned to face the room where they were torturing Foster.

  Now there were only two – and still no sign of Samara.

  As Steel moved closer, he could hear the voices, yelling questions, screams of pain. Steel’s heart began to race as the adrenaline pumped faster through his veins. The cries of pain grew louder, and Steel knew he needed a plan, and fast.

  He knew there had to be a weapon of some kind, there was no way Foster would have willingly gone anywhere with these guys not even upstairs knowing he was going to be tortured. So, there had to be a gun. A knife would have been child’s play for Foster to take away from the guys, even though he had been working a desk for years.

  No, it had to be a gun.

  With that in mind, Steel knew he would have to move quickly and quietly. Any sudden noise would spook them, and it could cost Foster his life. Steel reached the door and held his back against the wall.

  His breathing shallow, his heart rate steady.

  He raised a fist and knocked.

  ‘What is it?’ came a voice, Steel replied but muffled his voice.

  ‘What… just come in,’ said the voice. Steel again spoke in a muffled voice. Steel heard a grumble and the sound of heavy footsteps. Steel hid the best he could around the corner. His back against the other door, and waited. He had no idea what to expect. He had seen what extremists, terrorists, freedom fighters and maniacs could do to people. Both Foster and Steel had seen their fair measure of the aftermath. Steel’s mind ran ahead of him. There were two men down and possibly one in the room and one downstairs. The man heading towards the door was undoubtedly the leader, possibly an interrogator of sorts.

  Steel looked over at the bronze figure he had left with the bathroom guy, maybe it hadn’t been such a great idea to have left it. But it did not matter now, it was too late. The person was coming closer, Steel could hear the creak of the floorboards, the impact of shoes.

  Suddenly the door opened and out stepped Foster. Steel stared at him, blankly. Foster was unhurt, unbound, ungagged.

  ‘Foster?’ Steel could not believe his eyes. ‘What the hell’s going on?’

  The door behind Steel opened, he felt the bite of the taser, then everything went black.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  At eight-thirty the Master had finished speaking on the phone. The call itself had lasted only moments, but it had been enough, at last, he had gotten good news instead of constant excuses. Aamir was doing well. The Master wore a smile of contentment on his haggard face, the wrinkled contours etched with cracked skin.

  But the good news did not make him any less concerned.

  How had it gotten to this stage in the first place?

  Who was this cop, and what was he doing there – with her? The Master could not see how Mossad and the NYPD were connected. And even if they were, the cop was out of his jurisdiction, so in fact, he was just a civilian – not a policeman. The contact had said that the cop had revisited the man, Foster. But this was to be expected as they were old friends.

  The Master sat and contemplated the events and the facts. He sipped on his hot tea, letting the aroma of the herbs and honey waft gently against his nose. He breathed in the vapour and closed his eyes.

  The only link the Master could see was Foster and the cop. The Cop hadn’t met Samara until later – In fact, Samara had been following him. It was a puzzle. But one he no longer had to be concerned with.

  Steps had been taken.

  They were back on schedule.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  At eight-forty, the phone in the secure office rang. Alpha picked up the receiver and sat back in his office chair. It creaked with age.

  ‘Yes,’ Alpha said.

  ‘The cop went to the house,’ said Beta.

  ‘And?’ said Alpha.

  ‘They secured him and the girl,’ said Beta.

  ‘Why was he there – for Foster?’ asked Alpha.

  ‘They are friends – but I think it was more for the woman, they seem to spend a lot of time together,’ said Beta.

  ‘It was a mistake to involve him,’ Alpha said.

  ‘The cop – or my second?’ asked Beta.

  ‘Both. But we both know your second has a problem with this Samara woman,’ said Alpha.

  There was silence.

  ‘What is the plan for the cop?’ said Alpha.

  ‘They want to talk with him. Personally, I’d finish him, it’s safer,’ said Beta.

  ‘You’re probably right, but it isn’t either of us who makes the call. Command said they had plans for him,’ said Alpha.

  ‘What about Foster?’ said Beta.

  ‘It’s time for him, I think. But stick with the plan,’ said Alpha.

  Chapter Forty

  Steel groaned as he woke slowly. Everything was black, and he felt the restraints pull on the skin of his wrists. He tried to move his legs but found them bound as well. But he did not struggle or kick, yell or scream. He just lay still to get a sense of his situation. The floor was cold but not damp, which could mean he was underground, possibly a cellar. But he was basing his assessment on pre-existing information, and he did not know that much about old structures on Malta. For all, he knew he could be in a tower of one of the ancient fortresses. The truth was, he had no idea.

  Steel moved his hands about slowly, trying to ascertain what the binds were made from. Steel felt the bite from thin plastic against his wrists, possibly plasticuffs. Steel moved his legs, but they were locked at the ankles.

  Same deal as his wrists.

  Steel thought about it. Why plasticuffs? Simple, a person could carry plenty of them without drawing attention. But Steel figured there was another reason – they weren’t expecting him, they needed something quick and easy. Whoever did this may have just had a supply in their vehicle for another job? Whatever the case was, he was tied up in god knows where and they undoubtedly had Samara too.

  Steel’s hands had been tied behind his back, which wasn’t a problem. Steel moved so he could move his hands past his legs and then to his knee. From there, he could break his restraints using his knees. It was a simple hit and pull-apart motion, standard training for three-letter agencies, special forces or anyone who could use the internet. Steel lay on his back passed his bound hands over his arse then threaded each leg through until his hands were in front of him. Steel took a moment, the exertion on top of the shock from the taser had drained him slightly. John Steel used his fingertips to find his right boot's laces and untied the laces after getting his breath back. He passed one part of the lace through the cuff and locked the other one down with his other foot, so the lace was taught
. Then he began to saw. Steel winced as the plastic bit against his flesh. But he bit down and carried on sawing. He could feel the heat from the plastic, but he carried on. Steel was thankful he had replaced the standard laces with the re-enforced round laces. He could feel the sweat pouring down his face as he worked the cuff up and down against the lace. The plastic felt red hot against his skin, but he knew he could not stop, he could not let the cuff cool down. There were a snapping sound and Steel flew backwards as the plastic cuff broke. Steel lay on the ground for a second, sucking in the air. Steel sat up and wiped the sweat from his brow. Surprised at how thick the cuffs had been.

  He reached down and inched his fingers over his trouser material towards the binding around his feet. Steel was surprised to find it wasn’t plastic that bound his feet, but duct tape.

  They really hadn’t planned on an extra guest, Steel realised. Using the tips of his fingers, he began to strip away the duct tape. It was taking time – time he did not have.

  Time Samara probably did not have.

  She was in trouble, and Foster was going to find himself dangling out of a window by his ankles until Steel got her back and understood what was going on.

  Steel felt the give as the last piece of tape was ripped from his legs. First things first, he checked himself over. They had taken his watch, sunglasses, wallet, and phone. He reached down and put his boot back. The last thing he needed after all his trouble was to tread on something that could damage his foot.

  Steel had no idea where he was, how big the room was – where the ceiling was. The last thing he needed was to launch himself off the ground and find the gap between the floor and ceiling was shorter than he was. Reaching up to his hands, he tested for the ceiling as he rose slowly. Steel found himself stood upright with plenty of space still above his head. He stamped his left foot hard on the ground, but there was only the clap from his shoe on the floor – stone or concrete. OK, no echo, he thought to himself. Which meant he was in a small room. Which also said it wouldn’t take long to find a wall and hopefully a door. He had gotten in somehow, so logic dictated there must be a way out. Then Steel froze and looked up, he could not see anything.