Maltese Steel

by Stuart Field

  ‘Was he badly hurt?’ Calver asked, hoping for the bad news.

  The guard shrugged and passed back Calver’s ID.‘Can't say, nobody tells us nothin here. All I can say is his car was blown apart,’ said the guard.

  Calver took back his ID and waited for the guard to raise the barrier. As Calver drove past, he gave a quick wave salute and went to park.

  The main parking area had been cordoned off at the crime scene, with armed guards and FBI forensic teams, which meant he had to drive past the vast parking lot. Then past the older parking lot with the solar panel roofs, between two larger buildings and towards the pool house. Calver wasn’t sure if he was early or the rest of the staff had been encouraged to park elsewhere. He knew there was the parking area outside by the park. That would have been used by the embassy staff more than the hive staff. Others may have been informed to carpool due to the lockdown and the minimum allowance to vehicles. The parking lot that was now a crime scene was new. Years before the US Embassy had been given permission to place the lot on a grassed area. It had taken nearly a year to complete and had provided jobs for that year.

  Calver thought it strange nobody questioned why they needed so much space. But he figured they had gotten away with the deception by putting a helipad sign in the centre. This wasn’t just a parking lot but an emergency helipad.

  Calver looked around, the cordon had made parking difficult because of the cars – that were possibly from the night shift, had filled most of the allotted space. He drove slowly while looking around.

  Searching for that elusive parking spot.

  The sunrise had bathed everything in deep orange. Making the scene look surreal. The bright glow from the sun reflected in the passing cars' windscreens, causing a blinding deep umber strobe effect. Calver had kept his window down, letting in the crisp morning air. But instead of the usual scent of fresh, unspoilt air, he was greeted with a pungent odour of burnt metal, rubber, oil, petrol and asphalt. He coughed and pressed the button to close the window, hoping to keep out the stench, but the cars ventilation system just sucked up the air from outside and pumped it inside. Calver struggled with the controls and turned it off completely, figuring he would rather cook than suffer the stink.

  As he wound through the chicane of badly parked vehicles, he caught the first glimpse of the scene. Calver could not see it before due to the surrounding cars and armed soldiers, but now he had an unhindered view.

  His mouth fell open as he stared at the carnage.

  The sight of Foster’s car froze his heart.

  The Land Rover had been sixteen feet long and six-feet high – now it was just a crumped hunk of twisted metal with angry-looking claws. The twisted metal mass looked as if some giant beast had chewed it up and spat it out. The ground underneath had bubbled asphalt where the intense heat had melted it.

  Calver slowed his vehicle to a crawl, it looked like something from a war film. He stared with wide – despairing eyes, at several tangled pieces of metal. Next to them were the same yellow markers – 102 and 105 stood out against the bright yellow in bold black letters.

  He looked over at what was once a wheel. The rubber of the tire was gone – melted away, the alloy was dented and deformed. Calver figured this one had been close to the device as it had been thrown upwards not sideways. It had landed around thirty feet from the vehicle, a kind of straight up-straight down momentum – this was 106. On the other side, another wheel had embedded itself into the door of a car, which had been a good fifteen feet away – this was 67.

  Those vehicles which were unlucky enough to be parked nearest Foster’s car had been blown on their sides, others had landed on their roofs. Some had been ignited by the blast or burning debris – the luckier ones who had been slightly further only had smashed windscreens and side windows. Nearby trees stood scorched with blackened bark and leafless branches reached skywards as if they were in pain. Several of the solar panels on the old parking spaces had shattered.

  Suddenly all of Calver’s evil thoughts towards Foster melted.

  The sight of the mangled mess that used to be Foster’s car made Calver rethink. He then thought of Foster’s family. They were just getting over losing the eldest daughter – and now this.

  Calver pulled up to the pool house and found a spot next to a VW flatbed truck and three Ford pickups. Some of the cars parked there had smashed windscreens of dents, but Calver figured that they had nothing to do with the incident unless they had been discounted and told to move.

  Calver imaged that the forensic teams had worked from the outside inwards. A way of eliminating what was relevant and what was not. To ensure they weren’t adding to their workload with something that could have been done days or months ago and had nothing to do with the crime scene.

  He parked, then switched off the engine, listing to the tick-tick-tick as all the pistons and gears settled and the engine started to cool.

  He sat there for a moment.

  Things were getting out of hand.

  He was paid to do a job, and he was doing it, but the murder – or from what the guard said, attempted murder of a section chief? That was something else, and he did not care how much they were paying him, he was done. Calver realised if these people are willing to do that to someone for just snooping around, what would they do to a loose end which was ultimately what he’d be?

  Calver walked past the pool and over to the main building. As he drew near, he saw two Marines in full tactical gear stood either side of the door. The guard on the right asked for Calver’s ID.

  His ID was on a neck chain which had tiny bat signals all over it. Calver pulled the ID from over his head and showed the laminated identification. The guy looked at the picture and then at Calver.

  This guy was a professional. None of the usual ‘yeah that will do’ quick check. The guy even raised it up to see is the picture and the man matched.

  Calver did not know whether to be impressed or scared.

  The soldier gave Calver his ID back and waved him inside.

  Nobody spoke.

  There was no ‘Good morning sir’, or ‘how are we today’, the soldier had his game face on. Someone had committed an act of terror on American soil, and that made him and everyone else in the place mad because, in the soldier’s eyes, they had let it happen. They had not been vigilant enough.

  Calver said nothing.

  The last thing he needed to do was to create animosity. After all, he was just an employee, he wasn’t really one of them – he was only a citizen.

  Calver entered the building in silence. He was looking forward to getting in and sitting down and drinking coffee. He slipped his lanyard back over his head and looked up.

  Calver stopped dead.

  He felt his heart skip a beat in terror.

  There near the entrance, were three portable metal detectors and a handful of Marines checking bags as people went through.

  Calver froze to the spot.

  He could feel people looking at his, eyes glaring with suspicion. He wanted to turn and run out of the door. Run to his car and speed away, but that would make him seem guilty of something.

  Pulling out his cell phone Calver, pretended to take a call. He turned and headed back towards the door with a finger in his free ear – as if he could not hear over the noise of the lobby.

  Calver carried on his fake phone call until safely out of view. He was cursing the situation as he walked over to the pool house. He did not know whether to be angry, scared – or both.

  The bombing could not have come at a worse time. Calver patted the inside pocket of his jacket; as if reassuring himself, something was still there. He paced up and down, hoping a plan would form. Calver stopped and sat down on a small wall and took out his cell phone.

  Calver pressed the speed-dial and waited.

  He heard the electronic chirp of the ring tone emanate from the cell phones speaker. He was starting to sweat – more from fear than the heat. He would have to phone it through.
All Calver could hope for was that they would understand.

  Calver and Bryce had everything planned out. Calver would make the exchange and Bryce would be ready with the boat. After the swap, they would contact the man who had hired them then disappear wealthy people.

  It was a simple plan.

  They were assured nothing could go wrong. But it had, and now Calver was left hanging on a phone waiting for instructions. After tomorrow it would be too late. The exchange had to be today. Calver went to cancel the call when a man’s voice answered.

  ‘What is it?’ said a man. His voice was deep, emotionless, accentless.

  ‘We got problems,’ Calver said. ‘someone set off a bomb in the parking lot last night. We’re all getting patted down. They’ve even got metal detectors,’ Calver explained.

  ‘So?’ said the voice. ‘I paid you to get it done, so get it done,’ the voice was cold.

  ‘You said it would be easy, a straight swap. This is messed up, man. No way it can be done now,’ Calver said, trying not to shout down the phone.

  ‘Was anyone killed?’

  ‘Foster I think, not sure, nobody’s saying anything,’ Calver explained.

  ‘Why did they target Foster?’ asked the voice. For the first time in the conversation, there was an emotion – puzzlement.

  ‘I don’t know, because he’s an asshole, I don’t know. Look, I can’t get past the guards with this thing, not with this level of security,’ Calver explained. There was silence for a moment. Then the sound of voices in the background; as if the man was on the phone to someone else.

  ‘If you complete the job we’re willing to give you double for your trouble,’ said the voice calmly.

  Calver paused. For a brief second, he was about to rant and scream, telling the voice it was impossible.

  But he did not.

  He stood for a moment and thought. The whole perspective had changed, now they were offering double the price. What they had offered to start with was insane, but double?

  Calver smiled to himself. His mind on the money, not the task at hand. The phone went dead, and Calver just stood; grinning to himself, almost pleased with his negotiation skills. Then he stopped and turned to face the building, and the smile fell from his face. How the hell was he going to get fake System Drive into the building without anyone noticing? Calver started to sweat again ‒ the realisation that he was a dead man walking if this went wrong.

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Samara ran the shower, playing with the hot and cold to get the perfect temperature. She could hear the noise from the kettle as the elements started to heat up, and the water gave a gentle blup-blup-blup as bubbles began to form and rise.

  Samara began to gather her clothes together, laying them out on the bed ready slip them on once she was done with the shower. There was a gentle electronic buzz from her cell phone. She watched it dance across the bedside table. It acted and sounded like a may bug that had landed on its back. Samara picked it up and tapped the touch screen to check the message.

  ‘Crap,’ she said, then sent back a quick reply before closing down the cell. She placed the phone back on the bedside cabinet and went into the bathroom to shower. The noise from the kettle was getting louder.

  He had knocked, and she had replied with a friendly ‘Come in, Kane.’ Kane found Samara dressed and cleaning her gun when he entered the room.

  She was just putting the top slide back onto the weapon as he took a seat on the couch. He did not ask her how she knew it was him at the door, it would have been a futile question. He thought it was the way he walked, the sound of his footsteps, or it could be something as simple as he was the only one there. Why would anyone else feel the need to knock on her door so early in the morning – it was too early for housekeeping.

  There was a silent pause while Samara placed the pistol back into its holster in the small of her back and Kane got up to make himself a drink. He’d seen the steam rising from the lip and figured it had just boiled. Samara picked up her cup and took a sip from her freshly made coffee.

  ‘Where’s Steel now?’ Kane said, while he tore open a sachet with his teeth and poured the powder into a cup.

  ‘Azure Window, he is working on the girl’s death for Foster, he has nothing to do with my investigation by all accounts,’ she said.

  Kane nodded as he filled the cup with hot water. ‘What time did he leave?’

  ‘Five-ish, at a guess.’

  Kane rechecked his watch. ‘That’s plenty of time to get there, have a good look around, and come back.’

  Samara nodded. ‘But if he found a witness, maybe he’s getting more information.’

  ‘Seems unlikely he’d find a witness the police haven’t.’

  ‘Depends how hard they tried.’ She looked up at her brother.‘I told him about Calver.’

  Kane nodded as he stirred the beverage with a cheap, flat aluminium spoon.

  ‘In truth, we shouldn’t have left Malta,’ Samara said.

  Kane shot her a confused look.

  ‘Why not?’ Kane said as he walked over to the couch. He stopped and changed direction, he was now walking over to her. Samara stood with her cell phone in her hand. The display screen held vertically so he could see it better. The message was in bold writing, black script on a white backdrop speech box.

  Kane peered at the text. It was from one of Samara’s colleague back on Malta.

  Kane’s mouth fell open as he read it.

  ‘Crap,’ he said.

  ‘That’s what I said when I read it,’ she said with a shrug. The message was about Foster and the car bomb at the Embassy.

  ‘That’s not good…’ Kane said. ‘I vote you tell Steel,’ he shrugged.

  ‘Wow, thanks. Some brother you are.’ she laughed.

  ‘So, what do you want on your headstone?’ Kane said, with a mocking look.

  ‘You know, I sometimes wish I was an only child,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, yeah, then who would you get to drive you in the middle of the night?’ he said.

  Samara said nothing, she just smiled while she sent Steel a message.

  Where are you? We need to talk.

  She placed the cell onto the bed and looked over to Kane, who was sipping his coffee. Samara looked over to the cell phone as it gave a two-note burst; signalling a received message.

  She picked up the device and opened the post.

  It was Steel. He had sent the name of the place he and Stan were heading to.

  ‘Kane, we have to leave, now,’ Samara said. Kane looked up, his lips pursed together, ready to take a sip of the hot coffee.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he said.

  ‘I think Steel may be heading into trouble,’ she said.

  Kane put down the cup and stood up.

  ‘Right then, where are we going?’ he said.

  Samara smiled.

  Kane could be a pain in the ass, but he was as loyal as a puppy. Kane just took whatever she said on faith, he never questioned why.

  ‘Hondoq Bay. We’re going to Hondoq Bay,’ she said.

  Kane saw the worried look on her face. He knew that look, and now he was feeling scared.

  Kane opened the vehicle and started the engine. Simultaneously, Samara programmed the car’s built-in navigation system, typed in the HONDOQ BAY. After a few moments, the device had plotted the best route, they were ready to go.

  Kane pressed the gas pedal, and the Land Rover’s V8 growled, there was a blowing sound as the turbo kicked in. They set off, heading south. The navigation system had said it was a fifteen-minute journey. They would have to get back onto the Triq L-lmgarr road and head east.

  As they hit the exit and were on the Triq L-lmgarr road, the sun was high in the cloudless sky, and they were driving directly into it. The tinted glass made everything look green from the bright, unyielding sun. Kane was cursing the lack of cloud cover, squinting as cars approached, the blazing sun reflecting off their polished skins. Even though he had his sunglasses on,
the glare was unbearable – and often dangerous, blinding him. They had thought about stopping, pulling over and waiting, but it wouldn’t have made a difference. It would be hours before the sun moved into a more desirable location. They did not have hours – possible neither did Steel.

  Calver headed back inside the main building. He knew he had to do something, but what? He could not get the image of Foster’s burnt-out wreck of a car, out of his mind. A black, mangled mass of twisted metal. When Calver had seen it, he was convinced Foster was dead.

  How could anyone survive such a blast?

  Even if he wasn’t close to it, the shock wave would have been tremendous, not to mention the flying shrapnel. The nearby vehicles were a testament to that. Windows had been blown out, and tire marks on the ground showed the blast had forced cars sideways. Foster’s car’s engine block ended up in a field next to the embassy wall.

  But why?

  Killing Foster served no purpose, especially to Calver’s real employers. In fact, it would have been the last thing they wanted because of the resulting added security measures. A lockdown would have – had ‒ made it virtually impossible to carry out the actions he was being paid to do. Besides, if they wanted Foster dead, why did not they just do it when he was home. Car bomb in his driveway.

  BOOM.

  Game over.

  But this? It made no sense.

  Calver looked back at the queue of people waiting to pass through the heightened security. He could not help wonder who would want this lockdown to happen, but he had nothing. One thing was sure; they could not find Calver with the system drive had in his pocket, or it would be all over.

  That’s when it hit him, someone wanted the disk drive found, he was just a patsy.

  Calver froze on the spot.