by Stuart Field
‘Well, here we are, you sure you want to do this now?’ Stan asked, looking at his wristwatch. ‘How do you even know there’s someone there, they could have all gone by now,’ There was a scared tone in Stan’s voice, and his irritability shouted to Steel.
‘There’s someone there, it’s a morgue, the dead don’t stop turning up after six,’ Steel said. ‘So, what is it, morgues or hospitals you don’t like?’
Stan did not answer, he was too busy checking out the large building's front with a terrified expression.
‘Hospitals it is,’ Steel said to himself as he got out of the vehicle. Steel went to say something to Stan, but Stan had already put the bus into gear and was heading away at speed. Steel ventured inside the new looking building.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Samara had broken into Steel’s suite and accessed the safe. She laughed to herself as the thick security door swung open and she saw the folded piece of paper, which stood upright. Hi, Samara, make yourself at home, the extra room key is in the safe. If you’re bored, I suggest you check out Marcus Foster’s team; something is fishy there.
Samara took out the key card and tucked it away. She was slightly disappointed with herself; to be that transparent. Then Samara thought back to the phone call she had made while she thought Steel was in the shower. She frowned, knowing that she had made the mistake of making the call while still in the suite. Steel must have overheard everything.
But what was done was done, and she could not undo it.
She glanced at the note again. If Steel had been mad at her, it did not show, in fact, it was just the opposite. Samara looked over at the on the desk telephone, and a wicked grin crossed her face. She picked up the receiver and waited.
‘Hello, room service, I’d like to order some dinner,’ Samara said. Plotting her payback, ‘Oh…and, how much is your best champagne?’ She sat back in the office chair, and put her feet up on the desk, waited for a reply while hacking Steel’s laptop. It was an easy enough code, which in itself made her suspicious. From what she knew of Steel, she expected more. If anything multiple passwords and retina scan, but a simple code! As the laptop kicked into life, she got her answer from room service. She ordered the Grass-fed rib-eye with fried onions, café de Paris. and a bottle of Moet & Chandon Brut Imperial to accompany it. If she was going to do background check for him, she wanted to be comfortable.
The main screen opened to reveal a new message, Here’s your new laptop, and I hope you enjoy the steak and the bottle of Champagne. Xx.
Samara sat up straight and leaned forwards to re-read the note just to make sure she had read it correctly. ‘Oh, he’s good,’ She laughed.
She was sure she wasn’t that transparent, so he must be as sneaky as she was, and he would have done the same in her position.
Samara checked the desk for anything else he may have left, possibly a list of names to aid her search. But there was nothing except the hotel’s information pack. Her eyebrows raised at the sight of the beauty and spar treatment menu but thought charging that was going too far.
Steel had given her a lead, and she had to follow it. Samara opened up the internet explorer and began to search for anything on Foster, failing that she would have to call in some favours. She knew Steel was there on Foster’s request, to look into what had happened to his daughter. He had mentioned it at Kane’s house. She also knew that Steel and Foster had been friends from way back, long before Foster had joined the CIA.
Samara figured that’s why he had dropped Foster’s name. Steel could not look into him or his staff without being objective when the two had been friends. On the other hand, Samara could. She had no ties with Foster, so it would be easier for her to see if Foster or someone in his department was dirty.
Samara stared at the screen. Her thoughts were miles away. She was about to look into the CIA, generally not a big deal, a pass-the-time exercise of who can hack who. She had done it several times before for laughs, and her opposite number had done the same. It was a game.
But now…
Now, this was something different.
This was something that could cause a major shit storm. Samara took a deep breath and began to type. First was a message to an old friend who owed her a favour. This guy was a wizard and could find anyone or anything. After she had gotten the names of Foster’s team, it would be a case of records. Email, bank, cell phone, the whole package.
She had no idea how long it would take him to find what she needed. It could be an hour, five minutes, a day even. One thing was for sure when she started looking; she needed to be mobile, untraceable. Steel had known this, which explained the laptop. It was a small machine; a beautiful 15-inch screen, light enough to carry, large enough to see everything on the monitor and it could not be traced to her. And if someone checked and found Steel had bought it, Steel could say it had been stolen. That’s if he hadn’t already done so.
Now all she had to do was wait for her contact to get back to her.
The question was, what would come first. The information, or her dinner?
Chapter Fifty-Four
The temperature had dropped slightly with the slow setting of the sun. The big day was drawing closer, and Aamir had to contain his excitement. Soon their day would arrive, and they would show the world of their might. Moments before he had spoken to the team leaders and confirmed all was ready. Aamir was still unsure how the master had required the C-130 transport aircraft. But then, he never questioned anything their leader said. He was after all the man who knew everything.
Aamir walked over to the large map that hung on the dimly lit room wall, which was ripe with the stench of stale coffee, sweat, and take-out food. He hated the quarters they had been given. A small, cramped house in the middle of nowhere, even though it wasn’t. It just felt that way, because they could not have any contact with the village which was just down the road. Except for the odd trip down the local shop for supplies, they stayed away.
He looked at the map and its strategic layout—photographs and notations of timings pinned next to locations. The plan was coming together. All Aamir needed now was confirmation from the inside man to say that it was ready to go. Aamir smiled and nodded with satisfaction. He did not know who the inside man was or if he was, in fact, a he at all. The master had never told him for obvious reasons. ‘If you’re captured, you can’t tell what you don’t know,’ the master had told him once. But all Aamir knew was there was a new software going online on Friday that could ruin the lives of many of his brothers. The insider’s job was to make sure it never went online.
Aamir had to admire this patriot's courage, but he figured they were only in it for the money and not the cause. If that was the case, so be it. Either way, he did not care as long as it was done before their mission was to take effect.
Aamir walked back to the small desk at the other side of the room. His cell phone had pinged, and alert of a new message. Aamir picked up the device and read the text.
Plane ready to go, device and cargo on board. Awaiting your arrival. He gave a wicked grin as he closed down the phone and placed it back on the desk. Soon chaos would rain on this small island, and then death would take flight. Everything was going as planned, and the Americans wouldn’t know what had hit them.
Calver stood with his back against the pool house's brickwork and watched the sun sink into the horizon. The sky was deep with reds, orange, and purples, it looked as if the sky was on fire.
His eyes desperately search for anyone in the area who may have seen him. He looked around to ensure he was alone, then switched off his phone. He took out the battery and SIM card, then snapped it in half, tossed it in the nearby garbage bin. He looked up and made one more scour of the area. He was alone. Calver took another SIM from his pocket and slipped it into the device, placed the battery back and then the cover. Confident nobody had seen him, Calver smiled smugly as he put the cell into his pocket. All had gone to plan. Soon it would be all over, home free, and
rich.
He returned to the main building, just one hour to go before the end of his shift. Calver walked without a care in the world. His plan was going smoothly, and all parties were playing the game.
A figure stood at one of the windows on the top floor of the main building. The figure looked out across towards the pool house. The figure’s features were hidden by the sunset reflecting on the dark glass.
Carver had not seen the figure.
But the figure had seen him, and everything he had done.
As the bright orange of the sun’s reflection sank from the window, the figure slipped away, leaving nothing but an empty corridor.
Calver entered the main building and headed for the elevator to the blockhouse. He took note of the others waiting for the same elevator. Several were from the cyber division. Most of them were ex-hackers who had been given a legal way of carrying out their hobby. The powers that be found the best way to find or beat an expert – was with an expert. It had been a kind of ‘use a thief to catch a thief’ way of thinking. Or in this case, ‘use a hacker to catch a hacker.’
There were also two from financial – small men who never seemed to smile much, or not in public from what he had seen.
Calver yawned at the prospect of a silent ride down. In some way, he preferred that than a lot of pointless chatter. The doors opened, and the group before him parted, allowing room for the people who had just come up to get off. Each of them looked pale and haggard.
It was a clear sign of an eight-hour-straight shift.
Calver got in last, making sure he stood directly in front of the door. This served no purpose, of course, only a form of irritation to the others. He was blocking the door; it would be him who chose who got off in time or just at the last moment. In his mind, it was a fun game to pass-the-time, he had the power, the control. But he knew deep down, they did not give a shit and would just shove him out of the way.
The elevator stopped on three, and Calver got off. He could feel that nobody had even registered someone had gotten off, only there was suddenly more space. Calver grumbled to himself at the lack of acknowledgement of his existence.
Soon everyone would know him and cower in fear.
Soon he would be someone they would never forget, even if they wanted too.
Calver headed for his cubical and put on the headset. Nothing had happened while he was away, no alarms had sounded, no chatter from anywhere. Calver smiled and thought that the time was drawing near when all that silence would change.
Foster watched as Calver took his seat. Recently there had been something about Calver that had made Foster uncomfortable. He had become smug and over self-aware. Which wasn’t a bad thing, but a lot of strange things had been going on since the arms company had unveiled their new software. The death of his daughter, Steel’s kidnapping and now the floor chief had gone sick, something he’d never done in the two years he’d worked there. This new software wasn’t a gift; it was a curse, and he wished that the damned thing had never been created.
Foster left the room and headed for his office. His meeting with Steel had left him rattled. Foster trusted Steel without question, but he knew Steel was holding something back, possibly for his own good. But it did not matter now. Steel was on Gozo, and the investigation into Lucy’s death was moving forwards. All he had to do was keep his head and make sure his department had done their jobs before that damned software went online. The question was, would the software work? Or would it be the biggest mistake since the freedom of movement in Europe? Foster liked the idea of borders and checks. The thought that someone could travel from Italy to Oslo without showing a passport struck him as frightening. But then, in his line of work, he saw terrifying things. Most of which the public had no idea about.
Chapter Fifty-Five
The General Hospital in Victoria was a modern complex of different sized buildings. Some were old with the limestone brickwork, others more recently added, new red brick structures with large tinted windows. The complex was divided by a road that traversed straight through, which would take visitors from one public street to the other. At each entrance of the hospital road, was a barrier and a guard. Whose primary job was to restrict access to the road, and ultimately to the hospital.
Visitors and hospital staff only said a sign at each security post. A large metal board pained white with discernible black letters, each letting being about two inches high.
Steel figure that they must have had problems with people using the road as a short cut as some point, because of the secondary school that was at the north end of the road.
Stan pulled to the security booth, and a small middle-aged man stepped out to greet them. He wore a sky-blue short-sleeve shirt and black trousers, his boots were military-style. He had pilot style sunglasses which perched perfectly on his roman nose. His head was shaved, so it gleamed in the sun, but a thick black moustache sat above a friendly smile.
‘Good afternoon, visitor or patient?’ the guard said. His voice was surprisingly high pitched like his underwear was too tight.
‘My name is John Steel, I have an appointment with Doctor Bondi’ Steel said, passing over his passport. The guard took the passport and headed inside the small hut to check his paperwork. He soon returned, still wearing the smile.
‘Yes, sir, you’re on my list. The morgue is in that building over there,’ the guard said, pointing to a second large building. Stan drove in slowly. Almost as if he was petrified to be there. That made Steel smile, enjoying Stan’s awkwardness.
The hospital grounds were full of small bushes and palm trees and seating areas that gave it a pleasant appearance.
There a large visitors parking lot, at the north of the complex and he knew Stan would be dropping him there.
‘You got the name of the hotel?’ Steel asked. Stan tapped the side of his head as if displaying it was fully inputted.
Steel got out of the red bus, and Stan took off quickly, leaving Steel in a cloud of oily smoke.
Steel found the correct building and walked in slowly. The building was modern with a large lobby and reception area. The walls were painted a cream colour, and the floor was the same grey tile as the embassy. The reception was a thick glass window of a small room. Inside sat two women, both in their mid-thirties and both with short brown hair, differently styled. The woman who greeted Steel had a slight perm with blonde highlights. She wasn’t thin nor fat but had a glorious warming smile and large blue eyes. A white plastic name tag said her name was Miss Doe.
‘Please, don’t tell me your first name is Jane?’ Steel asked.
‘No, it’s Tracy,’ she replied with a confused look.
‘Oh, well. Had to ask.’ Steel replied. ‘My name John Steel, I have an appointment with Doctor Bondi.’
‘Ah, yes, Mr Steel, we got the call earlier,’ the woman said then directed him to the left door. ‘Get to the elevator then take it all the way down, after that you will see a long corridor in front of you. The doctor's office is the last on the left.’ Steel thanked her and strolled towards the elevator.
He found the elevator at the end of a long passage lined with offices – the dull metal of the elevator doors stood out against the petrol coloured wall.
Around him, he could hear the usual intercom chatter, calls for doctors or patient instructions. There were screams of pain coming from further down the hallway, or whimpers from a waiting room he had just passed. Steel felt uncomfortable in hospitals. The only time he had been in them was to visit a wounded colleague or say goodbye to someone. He was thankful that MI8 had their own medical facilities.
The walls were bright with a wipe free paint. Nurses passed by with emotionless smiles, something learnt from years of working the job. Steel knew those smiles; he had seen it enough on the army medics.
These were brilliant people doing a thankless job.
Steel had great respect for the doctors and nurses, the angel's people hoped never to see, were grateful for in crisis and forgott
en in normality. Steel smiled at a group of nurses who passed him by, they smiled back, with that same standard smile.
‘Thank you,’ he said, causing one of them to stop.
‘For what?’ she asked puzzled.
‘For all those who never actually said it,’ Steel replied and stepped into the elevator as the doors slid open.
The morgue was as cold and foreboding as Steel had expected it to be. Tiled walls and floors filled the corridors, giving it a clean, but eerie look. Overhead, bright strip lights reflected off of the polished surfaces.
First thing Steel noticed was the silence; then the smell. He had expected something foul. Instead, he found it to be a sweet fruity smell. Steel moved on following the strange aroma. Then started to hear music. It was an upbeat sort of tune like something from the charts. He had heard it before but was unable to place it.
As he drew near the melody became more apparent, and then he had it. One of the young women on the ferry had it blasting in her earbuds on the crossing, a catchy tune made to make you feel good.
Steel pushed the doors open and stepped in. He half expecting a twenty-something-year-old. But instead, found a large overweight man in his fifties. He was dancing and singing along to the music that was blasting from the stereo system.
Steel stepped back into the hallway and checked at the name on the door. Doctor Henry Bondi. Medical Examiner.
Steel just stood there for a moment taking in the strangest sight he’d seen in a long time.
‘Well, that’s definitely someone who loves his work,’ Steel said to himself with a broad smile. The man is utterly oblivious to his presence in the room as he carried on dancing and singing. The medical examiner was about six-feet tall and had an appetite for good food, judging by his girth. He wore brown trousers and a white shirt which had fine blue lines down it, on top of which he wore a disposable bloodstain apron. Black curly hair clung to the sides of his bulbous head, having deserted the top. He had a Roman nose and big ears with big lobs that swayed when he moved.