by Stuart Field
There was another long building with twin double sliding doors at the one end. It had several small windows at the top of the structure and a flat roof. Steel thought this had to be the barn for tractors and other machinery. Between the track leading into the farm and the farmhouse, he spotted a small stone building. This was square – about forty-by-forty, with a flat roof with one door and no windows. Steel figured that had to be a generator room because there had been no power cables coming down the track and they had to be getting power from somewhere.
Steel observed the buildings for signs of life, or for anything that would suggest anyone had been there.
The grounds were still and lifeless.
If someone had been there, they weren’t home now.
Steel edged forwards, using any form of cover he could find to not be observed on he approached. He was unarmed and unprepared for a gunfight.
His only hope at this point was to strike unseen, take them out one at a time. At the same time, he had to be sure that his gut wasn’t wrong, and he wasn’t going to burst into the home of an elderly couple.
Amusing as it would be – and not the first time it had happened to him – it wasn’t what he needed right now.
A black and white cat ran happily from the barn to the main house. Steel followed eagerly.
The animal obviously knew a way into the building.
Steel had no idea what to expect, a broken board in the window or even a partially open door. Anything that would afford him a look into the place would be welcome.
As he moved to the rear of the house, Steel stopped. On top of the generator, the object looked more like an upsidedown umbrella on legs. Steel recognised this as a military SAT communications dish. The dish was made from a pliable material, making it easy to erect and disassemble. It was the kind mostly used by special forces on reccon or infiltration operations.
The question was, how did they get hold of one, and who the hell were they?
The dish faced southwest. Steel figured it wasn’t used as an expensive satellite dish to pick up North African TV.
He watched the cat as it jumped up onto a barrel and then in through a gap where some boards had come loose and moved across, giving the cat the perfect entry point and Steel a means to see inside.
Inside was dark, the only illumination was from natural light shards that broke through the shutters' gaps. Steel could make out a large table and some chairs in the middle of the room. In the corner, a dozen large boxes were stacked up along with several smaller, long boxes. Steel made his way around to the front of the house and tried the door.
The handle turned with ease and then with a click – it opened.
Steel tried to keep the door from opening too much as he passed through. The last thing he needed was flooding the entrance with sunlight and alerting anyone to his presence.
He found himself in a small corridor which opened out into a larger room. The hallway was twenty feet long and dark, with a concrete floor and smooth walls. It was too dark to see what colour the walls were, but he guessed it was an off-white or cream, most buildings here picked those colours. His boots scrapped on the floor from the thick sand that covered it. It was apparent someone had had the door open to try and get as much fresh air into the building.
It wouldn’t take much, a door or window upstairs and the front door would be left open, this would create a through draft carrying fresh air through the building. Perfect if you could not afford for all the windows to be seen left open – if you did not want prying eyes knowing anyone was there. If someone was to see a door and a window left open in an abandoned building, they wouldn’t think anything of it. Maybe a nosey tourist had gone for a quick investigation or some homeless person taking shelter.
Steel remembered when he was a sniper for the SAS, and he had a target that needed taking out, he would reccon the area. If there were animals nearby, he would set himself up days, even weeks before so the animals would be used to him. The serge had taught him, ‘you can have the best camouflage in the world, but if the animals and birds avoid you, you may as well be painted pink with a sign on your head.’
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Steel walked through the hallway and into the large room and was greeted by the stench of dust, body odour and take-out food. Steel gasped at the lack of air and covered his mouth with his arm. Whoever had been there, had been for a long time, and had no thought for taking out the trash. Another ingenious idea Steel had thought. If someone did make it through the door just out of curiosity, they wouldn’t be staying long.
The more he learned about these men, the more he appreciated that these weren’t just some half-assed assholes, these had training.
But he could not put together the idea that the men at the old barracks in Valletta and these men were part of the same group. Unless it was the commander that was the intelligent one and these men were just… necessary.
He walked through slowly, taking each step heel-to-toe, desperate not to make a sound. A sudden noise to his left made Steel turn, only to see the cat dining happily on day-old pizza.
‘Bon appetite,’ Steel said with a smile and continued his way through what appeared to be a dining room for a large number of people, possibly fifteen to twenty. With six long picnic tables and benches as seats. The tables were arranged in a U shape confining the dining area to the centre, giving plenty of room to the room's sides. Beams of light bled through cracks in the window shutters, giving Steel enough light to make out things in the room.
Steel stopped and looked around, taking in what they had left and the marks on the floor where the dust hadn’t had the chance to settle. Some of the gaps were long and wide – possibly rifle cases. Others were smaller – ammunition or hand grenades perhaps.
Someone was getting ready for a fight, he thought – but where and who with?
The large room had four other rooms branching off from it. There were two the left and two to the right. At the back was a stairwell leading to the upper floor.
Steel walked over to the first room on the right. Carefully he nudged the door open with his boot and peered inside.
The room was long with a window at the far end. Steel imagined it had possibly a storage room with shelving.
There was shelving – but no food. Steel found shelves stacked with Sig Sauer SIG516 assault rifles, Sig P320 9mm pistols, sniper rifles that ranger from 7.62 to .50 calibre. There were boxes of ammunition, grenades and claymore mines lined the left-hand wall along with crates of plastic explosives. Steel thought this might be a safe house or just a facility to store weapons until needed.
‘Wow, someone’s planning a party,’ Steel said. Taking in the armoury before him. Slowly, Steel backed out and headed to the next room and found the door to be open. This was the kitchen and larder. There was a camping gas stove on a table connected to a twenty-litre gas bottle by a thick orange hose. There were five clear jerry cans of water laid in a row on the floor. The shelves were full of tinned and packet food, as well as pots and pans. There were cans of cooking oil and big bags of flour and sugar stacked up along the left-hand side. On the right bottles of water and soft drinks lined the wall. He figured there were enough rations there for at least twenty guys for three weeks – maybe a month, depending on the food's rationing. He guessed the reason for the takeaway food was because they’d never had to before. And if that were the case, Steel had just learnt something else about the people in the house – they were from somewhere barren, possibly a desert or a mountain region.
The food store was impressive, he had to admit. It had everything you could want – except a window to let the foul air escape through.
Steel turned away from the kitchen. The sun was starting to pour through another set of windows shutters – the sun was moving. He expected by the time it reached due south temperatures would rise further. Not a prospect he was looking forward too. Because they would be driving south – and towards the blistering sun.
Steel looked ar
ound the large room, the light was now pouring down the staircase, proving his point about a window or door being open on the upper level. The new illumination filled the rear of the room. Where he stood was still bathed in shadow. He looked over at the last two rooms.
If this was a safe house for soldiers or terrorists, they would need several things: communications and a war room for etching out each part of the plan. If the kitchen and armoury were behind him, that would leave the other two places for comms and a command post. Steel walked past the U shaped tables, across the dusty floor. He could hear rats scurrying about on the level above him. He noticed the footprints he had left in the dust, but it did not matter, the chances were the men were long gone, possibly leaving a couple of men to guard it. It was also possible this was just one of many places they had.
But Steel had a bad feeling about the site.
It was as if it had been set up for them, and they hadn’t brought the equipment, someone had provided it.
He remembered back to the footage, the boat they had arrived on was no way big enough to have brought all the rations and armaments Steel had just found. And how would they know this place was empty?
He supposed that there could have been a forward recce party, just to scope out suitable accommodation. But to find something like this farmhouse in this country – they would have needed months, possibly years. Steel thought that could be possible – and highly unlikely. Someone was financing these guys.
Then he thought back to what Samara had said about something big going down.
More and more Steel was beginning to think that this software and the men following Samara were no coincidence, no matter what she or Foster said.
Brad had seen the Zodiac and the men aboard, possibly when he was rewatching the movie he had made. Perhaps he had posted it, and someone had seen it? It would explain why they came after him.
Or maybe, he saw the footage and wanted to know who they were, and found more than he bargained for? Steel looked back over at the cat who was still enjoying the pizza. He smiled softly to himself. It was possibly the best meal the poor animal would be getting for a while. Steel heard the howl of a breeze rushing down the stairwell. But, it only kicked more dust and sand into the air. Steel coughed and covered his mouth with his arm. Nestling his face into the crook his elbow. He was glad of his sunglasses to shield his eyes from the particles hanging in the air.
Steel walked to the door frame of the left-hand room. He needed to be sure he was alone, and that some half-assed asshole wouldn’t try and stick a blade into him from behind. He sneaked a look inside, checking the corners for anyone hiding in the shadows – or behind the door itself. Then he checked the right-hand room. This too was empty. The staircase had thick dust on the steps. Nobody had ventured up there for some time.
The footprints that were there had started to fill with sand and dust. So much so there were hardly visible. Steel figured last time someone had used these steps had been at least the day before.
There was nobody upstairs.
He was alone.
Steel went back to the left-hand room. He had only had a quick glance to see if anyone was dumb enough to hide in there, but not taken any real notice. He knew he’d be going back to study it later.
It was a decent sized room – twelve-by-ten, with one window at the far end. There were tables around the sides and two canvas folding chairs – military issue and available at every army navy store, or online. The tables along the back wall, and near the window all had radio equipment and laptop computers set up like a proper communications room.
And all the equipment was on – and running, it was still in use.
Someone hadn’t left for the party, Steel thought.
Another table at the back, near the door, had weapons and ammunition ready to issue out.
He was starting to get a bad feeling, like any minute twenty guys armed to the teeth, were coming crashing through the door, guns blazing.
Steel walked around the room until he reached the map nailed to the wall. The thing was huge, at least ten feet by ten feet. It was a blowup of a local map – a map of Malta. The map contained positions, safe houses, routes – and a target.
Steel froze as he saw the red pin marking the location of the American Embassy.
Steel ripped the cell phone out of his pocket and started to make photographs of the map. He knew the embassy needed this information as quickly as possible, without it many people – including civilians, would perish. Steel looked at his watch; it was half-past-eleven. He had to get the information to someone as soon as possible.
He typed a message to Samara, knowing that she would be on Malta by now. He just hoped she would get the information in time.
Take pictures to the embassy, urgent, Attack imminent, numbers unknown. Steel wrote, then put the images as an attachment and pressed send.
No networks found, was the response.
Steel growled at his bad luck. He looked around at the radios, thinking that they were blocking the signal. He made for the dining room, knowing he needed to get outside to resend the text, hoping that the building was blocking the cell signal. He was using a unique network to get a signal in the middle of the Atacama desert if he had too.
As Steel rushed into the large room with the dining tables, he was greeted by three men. They were all the same height, build. It was like looking at triplets as they stood next to each other. They all wore the same unwashed look, and all held MP5K submachine guns.
‘I just moved in next door and was wondering if you had some sugar?’ Steel said and raised his hands with a shrug.
The men stared blankly at him.
Steel wasn’t sure if they did not understand, or they did not care. Suddenly a noise at the front door made them turn, and Stan walked in. Steel went to warn him to get out, but it was too late. The men parted and let the cabbie walk in and took his place in front of them. In his hand, Stan carried a polished steel Desert Eagle .50 AE pistol. The foot-long handgun looked massive next to his slight frame.
‘I tried to stop you,’ Stan said with a disappointed look. ‘I tried to make you turn back and head for the hotel, tried to get you drunk last night to hold you up too,’ Stan said, shaking his head in disappointment. ‘So, now Mr Steel, we have to do it the hard way.’
Stan smiled, then raised the cannon towards Steel and fired.
Steel was already diving out of the way. Although, he had to admit he hadn’t seen Stan being a bad guy. Lazy – yes, but not of this band of assholes. The wall behind where Steel had stood exploded from the impact, leaving a golf ball-sized hole in the wall. The other men opened fire, blinding light flashed from the weapons' barrels, so much, so the men were now shooting blind.
Steel had rolled into one of the other rooms and slammed the door shut. It had been more out of instinct than anything. He knew with that much firepower, the door would be in shreds in moments. There were several massive boom-boom-booms as Stan fired into the wall. Each shot was horizontal, moving from right to left, he was trying to force Steel to move away from the door.
‘That’s four out of you’re your seven,’ Steel said. Counting off the rounds of the canon. A magazine change on a .50 AE isn’t as quick and fluid as with a 9mm – or even a 45. The weapon was hefty, nearly five pounds in weight, meaning the gun can’t remain in the firing position, it has to be lowered. This would take time for a guy like Stan in his physical condition.
Steel figured that Stan hadn’t used the gun that much because he was using both hands to fire with, and the first shot nearly slammed the top slide into his face from the recoil. This meant he wasn’t used to the weapon – add another minute.
The magnum’s bullets passed straight through the wall and slammed into the wall opposite. Shattering the wall and pieces of old stone fell away, leaving huge tea saucer size dents in the wall.
Grabbing a chair next to the door, Steel slammed it under the door handle, jamming the door in place. Steel smiled smugly at
his quick escape from the hail of bullets and turned around. His face dropped. He thought he had aimed for the armoury, but found himself in the kitchen. He picked up a saucepan and slapped it against his hand as if testing its density. The handle snapped, and the metal pot clanged to the dust floor. There was another burst of fire, and the high calibre 7.62 NATO rounds punched through the wall. Hammering squash ball-sized holes through to the kitchen wall.
Wall dust and fragments fell all over him as Steel dove for cover as the limestone shrapnel filled the air. Steel looked around, hoping to find weapons or just something he could use against the men, but found nothing useful, even the cooking knives were blunt.
Steel knew it wouldn’t take long before they started to shoot more rounds through the walls and the door. Ammunition wasn’t a problem, all they had to do was go to the room next door. He turned around at a strange glugging noise from behind him. A can of cooking oil had been struck and was leaking. Steel looked back at the holes the .50 calibre pistol had made. Big menacing holes that Steel could quickly search through like a spy hole in a door. Then Steel noticed one of the bullets had been fired at an angle. This had gone through the kitchen wall, and straight through to the armoury. Leaving a fist-sized hole into the weapons cash.
In the dining room, Stan was yelling through the barricaded door. He was giving some grand speech about their cause and how everyone would burn.
Steel ignored Stan’s ramblings, he was too busy making a funnel and piping the cooking oil into the next room. As Steel watched the liquid disappear into the next room, he hoped the wall between him and the munitions would be strong enough to take the blast. When the can was empty Steel hunted for some matches he had seen earlier when he searching the larder. He smiled as he picked up the matchbox and shook it to make sure it was full. Steel knew a match alone wouldn’t ignite the oil, but he had seen some dish clothes on a shelf. He grabbed a cloth and stuck it through the whole, just leaving enough out for him to light. As more bullets pounded against the wall, Steel struck a match and lit the cloth. At first, the fabric did not take. He held it to the end, but the match went out. Steel struck another, but this broke. Steel swore as brick dust fell around him. He took another match and lit it. The flame burnt brightly. Slowly Steel placed the match next to the corner of the cloth. At first, there was nothing, but then it began to smoulder. Steel waited until it was happy it was a lite, then poked the burning cloth through the hole using a spatula's handle and ducked.