Maltese Steel

by Stuart Field

  ‘Yeah, I get that, but which part?’ Kane asked.

  The happy, confident feeling Steel was having melted. ‘What do you mean – what friggin part?’ he growled.

  Kane said nothing, he took out his cell phone and activated the find cell app. A map came up, and a tiny red dot showed Samara’s cell phone – and her location.

  ‘She’s at the by the Lufthansa hangers,’ Kane said, leaning over and putting in the new location into the navigation system. It took a few moments the map swivelled and turned, zoomed in and out and recalculated a new route.

  Steel shook his head in disbelief. The new route would force them south onto the Triq Ta’ Hal Farrug road, he just hoped it wasn’t a narrow street full of traffic and parked cars. Steel looked down at the dark blue arrow showing the direction. The computer voice was calming and set with an American accent.

  Steel was happy with that – it could have been worse for him, and it could have been in Maltese, and he had enough on his mind besides driving. Steel just nudged vehicles out of the way – sometimes, on purpose.

  Steel still could not believe Sloan was part of it all. Foster had spoken so highly of the man.

  In the end, Sloan had betrayed Foster and the rest of his country. But, Steel had the nagging suspicion Sloan was only a pawn in all of this. Stan had confirmed that the Trojan organisation was behind this. Sloan had been an agent of the organisation that was clear to him now. Steel figured Sloan must have been the one who had provided the hardware. The C-130, along with the weapons and vehicles, the safe houses for the terrorists. Stan had been the go-between, giving the terrorist information. Stel had come across the Trojan organisation more than once. The organisation had people everywhere, and their main goal was power. Sure Steel’s old enemy – an organisation called SANTINI was a bunch of high-level scumbags who worked in the shadows. They were into licence killings, money laundering, espionage gun-running. But they had no interest in power or ruling the world – not like Trojan. The Trojan organisation wanted absolute power and control, and they would use any means necessary. But Steel couldn’t figure out what they wanted with the Blockhouse in Malta? Sure, there was a reason Sloan wanted the terror strike on the embassy. However, Steel did not know what it was yet. The truth was he wasn’t thinking about that. Steel’s full concentration was on Samara, and why Sloan wanted her on a plane?

  Kane held on as Steel wove between moving vehicles, causing horns to sound in anger.

  Steel did not care.

  Samara was about to get on a plane with men who probably weren’t even agents, and go who-knows-where. Steel’s hands gripped the steering wheel tight and drove like a manic. Despite all of his excellent skills – driving wasn’t one of them. Steel had been impressed by Samara’s driving, she was able to manoeuvre the car in and out of impossible situations.

  His mind focused on the road and the distance yet to travel.

  Kane let out a yelp and pointed at a sign for the airport – 5 miles to go.

  That meant Steel had five miles to formulate a plan.

  Plenty of time, Steel thought to himself as he turned the vehicle abruptly – throwing Kane against the window of his door.

  ‘So, what’s the plan when we get there?’ Kane said, rubbing the side of his face.

  ‘I’m working on it,’ Steel said.

  The road took them through what appeared to be an industrial estate with new buildings on either side of the street with trucks at loading bays. The voice on the navigation system told them in four hundred meters to turn left at the roundabout. Steel’s eyes locked ontop the road, searching for the first signs of the roundabout. The turning was coupled with a long grassed roundabout with four palm trees and waist-high bushes.

  Steel took the turn hard and forced the SUV down the road, smiling with relief. It was a double road and not a narrow street like many he had been used here.

  Every chance Steel got he floored the gas pedal. Overtaking cars that sauntered along in front of them. For them, time was of the essence, and there was no room for those casual drivers – not today. Once Samara was in the air, there was no telling where she would end up or what they had planned for her.

  Steel saw a large group of buildings peeking from the top of a tall brick wall. Then the brick stopped and was replaced by a wire fence with razor wire spiralling across the top. Steel could see the airport and another set of buildings with the air company's recognisable dark blue decorating parts of the walls. Steel noted there weren’t so many aircraft at this part of the airport. It was possibly reserved for smaller aircraft such as private jets.

  Steel rechecked the position of Samara’s phone on the screen. The red dot continued to blink in the same spot.

  She hadn’t moved.

  Steel did not know whether to be happy or worried – but he had to believe she was OK.

  ‘Where is this?’ Steel asked Kane.

  Kane checked the satellite view, using his fingers to zoom in.

  ‘It seems to be a hanger next to that building,’ Kane said. ‘Pity this isn’t live, I could tell you what was going on,’ he shrugged disappointingly.

  Steel said nothing. He was busy concentrating on the road and trying to form a plan. Whatever they were heading into, it wasn’t going to be good – No handshakes and introductions.

  ‘This could get messy,’ Steel said.

  ‘What? Messier than at the Embassy?’ Kane smiled.

  ‘Good point.’ Steel continued to weave in and out of the traffic.

  ‘There should be an entrance coming up,’ Kane said, checking the satellite image once more.

  ‘Seen,’ Steel confirmed.

  ‘You got a plan yet?’ Kane said.

  ‘Get through the front door and take it from there,’ Steel said.

  Kane swallowed nervously.

  As they approached the airport entrance, the phone rang. Kane answered it and put it on speaker.

  ‘Yes,’ Kane said.

  ‘Who’s this?’ said a voice. Steel recognised Calver’s voice.

  ‘Never mind Calver – he’s with me,’ Steel said. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Price just shot Bolton, and the rest of the staff on my station,’ Calver said. ‘They’re all dead – apart from Bolton and myself that I know of, I think she just wanted Bolton to bleed out or something.’

  There was silence for a moment.

  ‘Is he OK?’ Steel asked.

  ‘Yeah – we both are, thanks for asking,’ Calver replied angrily.

  ‘Yeah, sorry, forgot you were all sensitive.’ Sarcasm oozed from Steel’s tone.

  ‘What about Price?’ Steel asked.

  ‘I spoke to the watch commander, she’d already left the embassy compound, all agencies have been briefed. The airports and ports have her photograph. She won’t get far,’ Bolton said confidently.

  ‘I see you guys are at the airport,’ Calver said, staring at his monitor closely, the receiver of the phone hitched between his cheek and his collar bone. ‘You catching a flight?’ Calver said, confused.

  ‘No, hopefully – stopping one,’ Steel said. ‘Samara’s been taken, we think whoever is behind this has her on a plane,’ Steel said.

  There was silence for a moment while Calver used the satellite to pinpoint any unusual aircraft.

  ‘Well, there is an aviation display on at a hanger near you, looks like some firm pitching their latest aircraft to some people,’ Calver said. He could see around thirty people walking around at the front of the hanger. Still, the only angle he had was from above, making confirmation impossible.

  ‘Anything else?’ Steel asked. He swerved to miss a car, then yanked the wheel until they were back on their side of the road. Kane sat with wide – terrified eyes, his back embedded into his seat. He knuckles on his hand, white as he gripped on to the handle above his head.

  ‘There’s a lear jet near there.’ Calver’s voice was hollow.

  ‘Company jet or civilian?’ Steel asked. Almost knowing the answer before
he got the reply.

  ‘It’s one of ours – and Steel, they are loading people on,’ Calver said.

  ‘How long do I have?’

  ‘Not long, so haul ass,’ Bolton yelled from his position on the floor.

  ‘It’s the third hanger at the end, past the main building, you have to go through a security barrier, so you’ll need a good cover story,’ Bolton said, taking over the conversation.

  ‘It’s OK – I have an ID,’ Steel said with a smile. ‘Thanks, Bolton,’ Steel said.

  Bolton looked at Calver with a confused look. ‘Where did he get an ID from?’Steel heard Bolton’s confused voice over the speaker and cracked a smile. Suddenly there was a beep beep beep from the cell phone.

  ‘Bollocks, we’ve lost the signal, must be interference from something close by,’ Steel said, taking back his phone and placed it in his pocket.

  As they pulled up to the security barrier Steel, saw the guard. He was a short, stocky guy in his late forties. He wore the same sort of blue-shirted uniform as the embassy. His clothes were neatly pressed, and he looked the part. His face was round, and black hair clung to the sides of his head. The guard wore a weary expression. Then he saw the vehicle, and stared up at Steel – and the expression changed.

  ‘Afternoon, gentlemen,’ said the guard. His voice was low but friendly.

  ‘Afternoon,’ Steel replied. Reaching into a side pocket of his jacket and pulled out a black ID wallet.

  ‘You here with the other group?’ asked the guard.

  ‘Yeah, we are, sorry we’re late, some idiot forgot itinerary files,’ Steel lied in his best New Yorker accent. ‘Where they at?’ Steel asked politely. Steel showed the guard the ID, making sure the sun reflected off the clear plastic. But the guard just smiled and nodded. Steel figured the guy had seen enough of these vehicles come through, that he knew the registrations off by heart.

  ‘No problem,’ the guard said. He stepped back slightly, giving himself enough room to point the directions out. He had been doing it all day, and now it was just like muscle memory. ‘Just follow the road over there, past the main building, you’ll see your friends.’ The guard pointed. ‘Have a good day, Agent Bolton,’ said the guard, letting them through.

  ‘When did you snatch that off him?’ Kane smiled as he looked over at Steel. Steel just smiled silently as he grabbed the ID and placed it back in his pocket.

  Steel drove past the main building, hidden by the three-story building casting across the concrete. Steel saw where the other Yukon was parked. It stood alone – abandoned near the third hanger. Steel looked over to his right to see the crowds of people looking at something in the first hanger. Then he noticed a banner for Sikorsky and a picture of something that looked like a helicopter. He shook it off, and his gaze locked back onto the third hanger. The lack of people around the car or the hanger was left him with a bad feeling – worst of all – there was no plane.

  ‘Didn’t the guy on the phone say there was –?’ Kane said.

  ‘ – a plane – yes,’ Steel said. ‘He did, so, the question is… where is it?’

  Steel parked by the hanger and a man in a pair of blue overalls came out. He was small and thin, his face and hands dirty from oil and grease. He wore a blue baseball cap which shaded his eyes from the glare of the sun. Like the guard – he was in his forties, but this guy seemed to have aged better.

  ‘There were some agents here? I was supposed to meet them, but the traffic was terrible,’ Steel said, using his New York accent.

  ‘Sorry agent, you’ve just missed them, the plane just took off a few minutes ago,’ the man said. Steel thanked him and drove off quickly to avoid any questions. Steel knew he could not ask for a flight plan because he said he was meant to be on the flight. Steel found an excellent spot to park and pulled out his cell phone. Steel checked that he had a signal. The display showed only one bar, he just hoped it was enough. He pressed redial and waited for Calver to pick up.

  ‘You just missed them,’ Calver said.

  ‘I know,’ Steel said. ‘Is there any way of tracking the plane?’

  ‘Yeah, we already have the tail number, just give me a second,’ Calver said. His fingers danced over the keyboard, he kicked the mouse and entered some numbers followed by more clicks from the mouse. ‘OK, got it.’

  ‘Can you plot a route, possibly tell me where they could be heading?’ Steel said.

  The bad feeling was back again.

  ‘Hold on. They’re heading for…’ Calver said.

  ‘Tunisia?’ Steel said.

  ‘Yeah, how did you—?’ Calver said.

  ‘Remember that plane T-shirt guy was tracking?’ Steel said.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Well, I bet they are heading for that plane now,’ Steel said.

  Before Steel could not figure out why they would need Samara. She was an inconvenience – a pain in their assess. But now he understood why they wanted Samara – she was Mossad. The perfect person to be found on the plane with terrorists makes it appear as though the Israelis were behind it. Tensions between the US and the Israelis had been tense these past couple of years, a bomb going off would be enough to sway public opinion.

  Someone wanted the unthinkable – a war with the Middle East.

  America against Israel. But it wouldn’t end with America. There would be a call for NATO to get involved, possibly Russia would back Isreal or even China? And the company who had the contract to supply the armed forces would make billions.

  ‘Calver, what’s the quickest way to get there?’ Steel asked.

  ‘Flying, I guess. Takes about an hour,’ Calver said with a sorrowful tone.

  ‘But – I won’t make it will I?’ Steel said as he did the maths. The plane would be ready to go as soon as their valuable cargo touched down. By the time Steel was even close, they would be halfway to Spain.

  ‘No, sorry we’ve got nothing that would get to you in time, whoever it was, they took our only jet.’ Calver’s words rang with regret.

  ‘Steel, you know what we have to do. I’m sorry,’ Bolton said. As he forced himself to stand and looked over to Calver’s monitor, which now showed the C-130.

  ‘Yeah. I know,’ Steel said before hanging up. He wanted to yell and toss the phone, but he kept it inside.

  There had to be a way to catch them – but he knew deep down the only way to stop them was an airstrike on the plane. Steel could imagine Bolton on the phone to the Pentagon, explaining what had happened. Asking for permission for the USS Nemesis aircraft carrier to send its fighters. They would probably wait until it was in the air and over the ocean. Nobody knew what was on the plane, but whatever it was – wasn’t good. And if they took it out while it was still in Tunisia, could lead to the very problems that they were trying to avoid in the first place.

  Steel looked over to the first hanger, he had remembered the poster they had seen on the way in – the helicopter.

  Steel got back into the car, and Kane followed. Steel did not wait for Kane to buckle up, he just put his foot on the accelerator and drove towards the first hanger. As they grew near Steel, hit the breaks hard, almost sending Kane through the windshield. Steel lept out of the car like the thing was on fire, and ran over to the hanger. Inside, there were groups of men and women, all dress ready for a meeting, or a business deal. Steel looked around at several aircraft on display – future concepts. But Steel’s interest lay elsewhere.

  As Steel neared, he smiled as he recognised the silhouette of the latest concept of the Sikorsky helicopter. The machine was sleek and shark-like. The grey of the metal shone from the overhead lighting of the hanger. As well as the top twin-rotor blades it had single propeller at the rear. Two, slit vented engine exhausts sat at the top near the rotors. The side loading door was open, displaying the plush interior. Steel figured this was the civilian version and not the military. The whole thing looked like something from a science fiction movie – yet, here it was.

  Next to the machine stood thr
ee men. One was a pilot, and the other two were sales representatives from the aeronautic company.

  ‘Excuse me, gentlemen,’ Steel said. ‘Is that the new S-98 Raider Mark 2?’ All three men looked shocked – but also intrigued at this strangers question.

  ‘Possibly,’ said one of the suits, a tall man in his fifties.

  ‘Are you with the Embassy?’ the man said. The words were drawn out as if he was cautious about what he was saying – and who he was saying it too.

  Steel smiled and flashed Bolton’s ID.

  ‘Agent Bolton, CIA. I need to commandeer your helicopter and pilot. It’s an emergency,’ Steel said, a stern look on his face.

  ‘You’ve got to be joking agent Bolton, we are getting ready for a grand unveiling,’ said another suit.

  ‘I’m afraid not, sir,’ Steel said. ‘We have a global situation. Just one question, is it fast enough to catch a C-130?’ Steel smiled, moving closer to the helicopter. Steel needed to know, just in case, the terrorists had already taken off with the transport plane by the time Steel had got to Tunisia.

  Steel figured it was the talk of a live field test that had sold them to the idea. The thought of the helicopter catching up with a C-130 had them working out their bonuses for the year. Of course, Steel had to agree to the pilot filming the whole thing.

  Steel could hear the thump thump thump as the rotor blades picked up speed. Steel felt the pull as the helicopter lifted quickly. Then the electronic whir as the landing gear retracted into the main body. As they reached ten thousand feet, the aircraft pulled forwards, and the engines roared like a savage beast. Unstrapping himself from his chair, Steel moved forwards to the cockpit, his phones still tightly fixed onto his head. Before they took off, Steel had phoned Calver. The phone rang twice, and Bolton answered.

  ‘Steel, what’s going on?’ Bolton asked.

  ‘I’m borrowing a helicopter, see if we can get to the plane in Tunisia before they take off,’ Steel explained.

  ‘Sounds like a plan, but we got jets on standby to blow that bird out of the sky once it's in international waters, no need to worry, we got this,’ Bolton said.