by steve higgs
‘You couldn’t have done that earlier?’ Big Ben asked.
‘I was too busy filming you getting slapped about by a girl.’
‘Ha ha, dickhead.’
‘Yes. Shall we go?’
‘What about them?’ Big Ben pointed to Andriy and Pasha.
I considered my options. ‘I need to get Pasha to the surface. She’s the one that hurt my dad. I don’t want to run the risk that the police don’t catch her and she escapes justice.’ I thought back to Deadface the Klown. I definitely didn’t want her to slip away. ‘We need to link up with the police and make sure the Navy boys get out before the police catch them. I also want to find the two Daves and Joseph. Let’s get to the surface. We can come back down with armed reinforcements to mop all this up.’
I started to pick Pasha up. She was out cold but picking deadweight unconscious people up and carrying them was a skill the army taught. Even so, I doubted I had ever picked up anyone her size.
Seeing me struggle, Big Ben took over, hoisted her easily onto his shoulder in a fireman’s lift and we got moving. Andriy was trying to get to his feet. ‘I grabbed him around the collar and hauled him to his feet. ‘You’re taking us to the surface.’ I insisted.
Knowing he was beaten, he nodded and still cupping his nuts and walking bent over, he escorted us to a door I might never have otherwise found. Behind the door was a second set of stone stairs, another rectangle just like the set I had already seen. It was the other way in from the surface.
Andriy was moving too slow, whether it was because he couldn’t go any faster or because he believed he could lose us and double back I didn’t know or care. Big Ben and I left him behind on the stairs, right now I wanted to see daylight and reassure myself that the Ukrainians were being rounded up because I was only mostly certain that the police were out there rounding up the Ukrainians. I didn’t actually know.
Nearing the final flight of stairs though, the door opened above us sending a shaft of daylight down. Voices filled the air and the squawk of a radio told me we were safe.
The police.
It wasn’t the first time I had been glad to see them, but this time it was positively euphoria I felt as I called out to them and heard CI Quinn’s voice in reply.
Mopping Up. Thursday, November 24th 1504hrs
I could see the time by looking at the giant clocktower that loomed over the Dockyard. Five minutes had gone by since Big Ben and I had stumbled out of the dark and into the cold air coming off the river. Big Ben had on his combat gear, which had unnerved the armed police for a moment until we were able to identify ourselves. The Chief Inspector had come back to the surface with us, wanting a full report, but had followed us up the stairs when we should have considered how we looked and insist he lead us out. All around had been armed police in uniform and plainclothes officers wearing bright vests to identify what they were. All weapons had been trained on us for a split second until CI Quinn exited behind us with a hastily bellowed order to not shoot.
On the ground ahead of us had been more than thirty men and women in cuffs, one or two of whom I recognised. They were surrounded by a swarm of officers that were processing them. Now in with them and struggling against the two uniformed police officers holding her was Pasha. She had come around as we handed her off to them, once again proving to be a handful until Quinn shouted and three more officers nearby joined in.
Now, I was sitting on a low wall next to a hastily erected on-site command post for the police that consisted of a large van with sides that opened out. It was purpose built for controlling major incidents which was what this now constituted.
The stairs we had exited from emerged into the Dockyard from an unassuming looking square of stone that had no identifying marks on it. There was a single door with a lock that not only would I not have looked at, but had I known it was the entrance, I would not have been able to get in through it anyway.
When I asked, CI Quinn was good enough to share that they had arrested sixty-seven persons, many of whom were known criminals and all of whom were Ukrainian. He was one of the officers that had come to the scene in plainclothes. His team had entered the Dockyard posing as tourists as I had suggested then fanned out. When panicked-looking people started streaming from the small building that covered the entrance to the stairs, he had been close enough to see it for himself, describing it as like watching a magic trick where one sees an impossible quantity of something come out of a receptacle too small to hold it. Then they had seen weapons and had been able to react.
A lot of the officers were below ground now going through the tunnels. They would be down there for days if not weeks, cataloguing everything the fire had not consumed. I had worried that it would spread but in the last few minutes there had been more officers going in and more people in cuffs coming out. I had heard someone report over the radio that fire had burned up the paper but had quickly run out of anything else that was flammable.
I needed to find my father and Alan and the rest of the heroes I had been down there with. Not knowing what had happened to them was keeping me agitated though CI Quinn was insistent that no one other than police officers, fire fighters, or if necessary, paramedics was going below ground. I had only just got my father back after days of watching him lying unconscious in hospital. Now his condition was unknown again and I wasn’t happy about it.
From my position on the low wall, I could see the Admiral’s building where I expected them to all emerge. There were police there too and the staff inside were still filing out as the entire facility was evacuated under police control.
Just then, CI Quinn exited the mobile command centre, looked around, spotted me and crossed the short distance to where I was sitting. He looked annoyed. ‘My men are getting reports from the Ukrainians that they were set upon by what they described as a geriatric special forces team.’ He said. ‘You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?’
‘Maybe.’ I tried to make my reply sound innocent.
‘Yes. Well, they have vanished like ghosts back into the dark. That’s a direct quote. Some of my officers saw them and gave chase but were fired upon. No injuries sustained though which makes me think the shots were to deter them from following, not to do them any harm. Doesn’t your father work here?’
‘He does.’ I answered, giving nothing away.
Exasperation etched on his face, he placed his head in his palms and groaned. ‘Mr. Michaels you have an uncanny knack for making my life both easy and impossible. Whoever they are they were nearly shot, you know. All in black and running around in the dark with guns. It would seem they found Detective Sergeant Kushnir though and two security guards and were escorting them to safety. That’s what DS Kushnir is saying anyway. How do you do it? How do you bring down a firefight in my jurisdiction and walk away scot free?’
I said nothing.
‘Would you like to tell me who they are? I expect the mayor will want to hang medals around their necks.’
Better make it a big one, I thought, so my dad could hide from mum behind it.
‘I need to see the security guards.’ Next to me Big Ben was already getting up. I wanted to check how bad they were for myself.
‘Really?’ CI Quinn said. ‘You need to see them. You cause nothing but mayhem and now you expect me to let you wander off to see the men your private army saved?’
‘Yes.’ I replied.
He sighed, looking around rather than at me. Then he pursed his lips as he made a decision. ‘I’ll come with you. I’m about to be replaced by an incident commander anyway. This is too big for a Chief Inspector now. Way too big.’ He turned back toward the command centre calling, ‘Wait there.’ Over his shoulder.
He came back out less than ten seconds later with two bright yellow high-visibility vests in his hand. Each had POLICE written across the back in bold letters.
‘Put these on. It might stop people from thinking they should shoot you.’ I think he was talking to Big Ben rather t
han me. He still looked like one of the armed police but without the insignia so actually he looked more like a terrorist.
‘Actually, I need the gents.’ Big Ben said as we set off. ‘I’ll catch up with you.’
CI Quinn and I walked in silence across the cobblestones to the Admiral’s building where staff were still leaving. A thought occurred to me. ‘Ian have your men found Alex Jordan yet?’
‘Alex Jordan?’ He repeated. He frowned for a second. ‘Oh, you mean the Dockyard’s CEO. I don’t think so. Why?’
CI Quinn had been rounding up Ukrainians and anyone that looked like they might be involved in the crimes they were committing. He didn’t know about Alex Jordan. No one did.
‘Because he is the guy at the top of the pyramid. He’s the big boss of the Ukrainian gang you are currently arresting, and he is probably being evacuated from the building in front of us by your men. Escorted to safety by the very persons that should be arresting him.’ I had already started running. Not towards the building though. I was heading for the exit where the first of the civilian staff evacuated from the Admiral’s building were filing out. A long thin snake of them were walking in a straight line out the large oak front doors I had not seen open until today. They passed through a cordon of officers that were recording who they were and where they could be reached and probably checking them against a list of employees to make sure they were releasing innocents not criminals.
Alex Jordan had to be among them and would be gone if we didn’t catch him.
No one paid us much attention as we raced up the line of confused-looking staff in their office wear. They had been happily oblivious to the fight playing out beneath their feet and getting on with whatever their job involved when the police had descended on them like a swarm of locusts. The police would not have told them anything other than they needed to evacuate the Dockyard. So, they were going home early, which was nice, but now would be questioning whether they were coming back tomorrow and if they still had a job.
The line of people had already reached the exit building where the gift shop and ticket booths were located. As we ran toward it, I couldn’t see anyone that looked like Alex Jordan. It could mean that he was still inside, waiting to file out through the police cordon or he might have gone down the stairs and into the tunnels to find his escape when he saw the police coming. Or he could have left already. All these things were possible.
However, when we entered the gift shop, I saw him.
He was in the car park and hurrying away.
‘There.’ I yelled to Quinn as I pointed through the now unmanned ticket booths.
Our jog turned into a sprint, my body protesting after the recent beatings it had taken. My abs a solid ball of insistent pain that demanded I stop doing things with them and take a month off.
We barrelled through the doors and out into the car park with enough force and noise to alert him. He glanced over his shoulder, saw me or perhaps saw the yellow vests and started running himself. He had a large bag over one shoulder, filled with money no doubt as Pasha and the others had been trying to do. It was slowing him down.
‘Police, halt!’ CI Quinn bellowed in a tone he clearly believed would generate the reaction he wanted. To my surprise it did.
Alex stopped running, dropped the heavy bag to the gravel and turned to face us. We were fifty yards from him and running, but as we drew closer, I grabbed Quinn’s arm and slowed his pace.
‘What are you doing, man?’ Quinn asked, bewildered that I was holding him back. I had faced enough fighters, both in the ring and in life, to know that my earlier casual assessment of his skills was on the money. He was loosening up for a fight right now, twisting his ankles and his neck, bending over to place his forehead against his ankles without bending his knees. He was limber and supple.
We were not in earshot yet, but I whispered anyway. ‘He can fight. This will not be easy. Best to bring in backup than risk him overpowering us and escaping.’
Quinn looked the man up and down. Alex Jordan is short and has a lean frame. Visually there is nothing to suggest that he could be dangerous which must have worked in his favour many times in his life. A police issue baton appeared in Quinn’s hand as he said, ‘I think I’ll be okay with just one man. I can call for back up when he is in cuffs.’
Before I could stop him, he moved to take Alex into custody. Mentally I wished him luck, physically I moved to create a vee angle so that Alex had to divert his attention constantly between the two of us. If I could time my attack to coincide with Quinn’s, then maybe this would be easy.
It wasn’t.
As Quinn stepped in, Alex darted toward me, feigning a move that would cause Quinn to follow him, then reversed his direction and struck him hard on the side of his face. It was the sort of move I used and one I liked to believe I wouldn’t fall for.
Reeling back and off balance, Quinn could do nothing as Alex grabbed his baton to wrench it from his grip. I was feeling sluggish and I hurt more or less everywhere. The adrenaline that had coursed through my bloodstream too many times today already had left me feeling spent. Adding it all up, I knew I had no option but to end the fight quickly. If Alex had the chance to arm himself with a weapon like a baton, we would not beat him.
But I had bet on him trying to get it as soon as I saw him go for Quinn and counted on his focus slipping briefly. It gave me the opening I needed.
Putting everything into my move, I took two steps, leaped onto the bonnet of a car and dived at the smaller man. I wanted to wrap him up in a hug that would encompass his limbs and take away his ability to strike effectively. While he wrestled with me, Quinn would be able to regain his feet and get a cuff on him.
As always, it didn’t work like that. The car I climbed on was fresh from the valet and had a good coat of wax on it. I might as well have stepped on a cartoon banana peel while honking a comedy horn.
I crashed to the gravel at Alex’s feet, hitting head first and tasting blood. Presented with an easy target, Alex drove down with his left knee to smash into my throat. Thankfully he missed as I scrambled for purchase but his knee landed on my chest instead, driving the air from my lungs and he was already raising the baton to strike my face.
Quinn grabbed the raised arm which stopped the downswing but was soon shaken loose when Alex drove a long, thin leg into his abdomen, doubling him over and forcing him to let go.
Whatever fight training Alex had was comprehensive but hadn’t extended to fighting dirty in the schoolyard. Still on my back on the ground, I threw a handful of gravel and loose dust into his face, blinding him for the half second I needed to line up an elbow on his inner knee. As he collapsed inward, I lifted my head and shoulders, swept my left arm behind his head and drew him down so I could bite his nose.
Yelping in shock and pain, he couldn’t get away without ripping his nose off. Panicked, he was punching and clawing at me, but I wasn’t going to let go.
Then the satisfying metal rasping sound of a handcuff ratchet sliding home told me Quinn had him. He pulled Alex away from me, indentations in either side of his nose where my incisors had been. He used the cuff against his wrist to force Alex to the ground as he did so.
From the ground, I heard the other cuff clicking into place. Then Ian Quinn’s face came into view, blocking out the cold grey sky. He was grinning. His top lip was split and there was a bruise already where the first blow had struck home next to his left eye, but he was grinning.
I took his offered hand and let him pull me to my feet. I slumped back against the bonnet of a car, placing all my weight on it and immediately slid off and onto the ground again. It was the same damned car I had fallen off. Quinn just eyed me like I was being strange.
I selected a different car, this time feeling the bonnet for friction before resting myself against it.
While Alex Jordan was yelling about the choice things he was going to do with our kidneys and testicles, the Chief Inspector called for uniforms to assist and gave them ou
r location.
Only when half a dozen uniformed officers came running toward us from the Dockyard entrance did he take his weary eye off Alex Jordan.
After they hauled the smaller man to his feet and after Quinn had directed them to take the bag away as evidence, he offered me his hand. ‘Well done, Mr. Michaels. It was a pleasure working with you. I need to return to the command centre where there will undoubtedly be many tasks for me to perform. I look forward to working with you again in the future.’
I shook his hand, surprised at his change in attitude. Our hands parted, and he turned to go but stopped as if remembering something. ‘When I make my report later, I will state that the special forces team the Ukrainians have reported were an unknown element and not connected to you in any way. That’s correct isn’t it, Mr. Michaels?’
He was sort of smiling as he gave me the opportunity to lie through my face about my involvement in the firefight earlier. I smiled back, as I began to walk away. ‘No, Ian. I arranged the whole thing.’
Going Home. Thursday, November 24th 1522hrs
I got to my car where I planned to wait for Big Ben. I still had on the hi-vis police vest but beneath it was a shirt that had burn holes in it and was damp from rolling on the floor in the tunnels. My feet were soaked and I was getting cold now that the adrenalin was once again leaving my system.
‘Mr Michaels?’ I turned to see Joseph Kushnir jogging across the carpark toward me. ‘Mr. Michaels.’
Despite the cold I felt, I closed my car door before I had the chance to get in and went back to meet him. I offered my hand to shake. ‘Joseph, good to see you in one piece.’
‘No time for that.’ He panted, drawing in a huge breath so he could get his message out. ‘I have to tell you that Alex Jordan is the gang boss.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘Oh. Really?’ Poor Joseph was not only surprised by the news but also quite clearly disappointed. ‘How?’