After pouring over the builder’s plans for hours, memorising every detail, he knew exactly what to expect. Six feet beyond the door, on the right, a four-foot high wall divided the corridor from the control room. The other side of it was a counter-table on which were two banks of monitors and the CCTV controls. The doorway - actually just a gap in the wall - was five yards further on, but Red knew the time he would take to reach it would be enough for someone to see it wasn’t who it was supposed to be and raise the alarm. As he came level with the wall he put his right hand on top and vaulted straight over, eyes already searching for targets. There was only one.
As Red came over the wall between the monitors, Bohdan reared back in his chair and snatched his feet off the desk. Then he was up and reaching for the red button on the wall to his right. He never made it.
The first blow - to his left shoulder - took him down. The second, before he could even cry out, smashed into his left side, above his kidney, making him crease sideways in agony. The third, delivered with practised skill, connected with the back of his neck and he went out, just like Vasyl.
As he pulled out the nylon ties and tape he would use to bind the unconscious guard, Red’s eyes swept the room, taking everything in. At the same time, he listened for signs of any approach. But apart from the man’s rasping breath, all was silent. As he pulled the ratchet on the ties tight round his wrists, Red’s gaze kept darting to the monitors, weighing what was showing on the screens, getting his bearings, reconnoitring. When the shit hit the fan, they wouldn’t have much time. He needed to pick up whatever he could. Tearing off a couple of strips of tape, Red pressed them over the man’s mouth. About to tear off another for good measure, he stopped and his head snapped back to the last screen he’d seen. It had taken a moment for the image to register. Leaving the man where he was - he wasn’t going anywhere - he sprang across the room, hoping he was mistaken. He was horrified to see he wasn’t.
'Oh, Jesus.'
CHAPTER 55
In the pitch dark, Murray rolled his shoulders and rotated his arms to make sure nothing was locking up, before checking the time - again. The signal should have come over an hour ago. Since then his anxiety had built, despite telling himself that any one of a number of factors could account for the delay. As time stretched, he’d had to work hard at not thinking of all the things that could go wrong, and where it would leave him if anything did.
Over the previous twenty-four hours they’d gone over the plan in detail, searching out weaknesses, challenging themselves with all the ‘what-ifs’ they could come up with. Most times it all held up. On the odd occasion it didn’t, they worked out a contingency. By one o’clock in the morning, they’d covered everything they could think of and trooped off to bed, exhausted. But they all knew there were still enough unknowns to give the plan only a fifty-fifty chance of success at best. And with Gina’s life at stake, they weren’t good odds.
'Come on guys,' Murray said to himself. 'Where the fuck are you?'
As if in answer – miraculously – he felt a vibration in his pocket. He snatched out his mobile. The screen glowed with Red’s message. “Secure.” At last.
Switching on the radio he’d kept off in case it showed up on some scanner, he spoke into it, softly. 'Trojan, over.'
The urgency in the voice that came back caused his stomach to drop. 'FIRST FLOOR, TROJAN. GREEN. URGENT. GO. NOW.' He’d never heard Red so close to panic.
Like a bullet from a gun, Murray burst from his hiding place but only into more blackness. The downstairs hallway bathroom’s light was off. Wrenching at the door lever, he flung it open, not caring if anyone was there. He would just have to deal with them. Red’s tone could mean only one thing, and the image it conjured drove him like a missile towards the room they’d designated ‘Green’ on the plan.
In the hallway, moonlight streamed through the windows either side of the front door, and the light from the lamp on the table at the bottom of the staircase meant he didn’t need his head torch. As he took the stairs three at a time, he readied himself to deal with whatever he might meet. Though the longer he could remain undiscovered the better, only one thing mattered now. As he raced he pulled the automatic from his waistband. He would still prefer not to use it, but wouldn’t hesitate if he had to.
Certain as he’d been all along that Gina was somewhere in the house, close, it had been even harder than Murray had imagined to resist the impulse to leave the small storeroom off the downstairs bathroom and search for her on his own. If it hadn’t been for his training – and the sure knowledge that without a directing steer he would almost certainly be discovered before he found her - he would have succumbed hours ago. But from the moment he settled himself into the cramped space after pulling off the switch with Ulysses - the short walk up the steps, while Podruznig checked the car with Kodras had been the longest in his life - he’d known he was in for a long and difficult wait. Okay, by waiting until the housekeeper would have finished - it was Pippis who suggested giving it a couple of hours longer - the danger of discovery was reduced. Even so, during his hours of waiting, several people had used the bathroom, including the little girl and, on one occasion he was certain, Marianna herself. Each time Murray’s heart beat faster and he prayed that the cleaner would have learned long ago to make certain the toilet was always well-stocked with paper.
Gaining the first-floor landing, he swung left into the short corridor that led to the extra bedroom the other side of the house from the others. He hoped to God they hadn’t left it too late - or that Podruznig had already concluded the odds were beginning to stack against him, and decided to cut and run.
But though the floor was tile and the soles of his combat boots rubber, his charge up the stairs had been far from silent. He was a few metres from the door that was his target, when it opened and a man stepped out. Murray knew at once who he was. Tall, wiry and dressed from head to toe in black, it had to be the Mummy. The look on the man’s face as he came out reflected only interest in discovering who was dashing about the house at this time and why. The way it changed the instant he saw Murray charging at him suggested an intruder hadn’t been high on his list. For Murray, the timing was perfect.
He slammed into the dark figure before he had time to even brace himself, driving him back into the door jamb with a forearm-smash into his chest he hoped would be enough to knock all the wind out of him. The 'woosh' of air that exploded from him and his pained expression told Murray it was. As the man bounced back off the frame, already gasping, Murray swung the flat of the gun so it connected, heavily, with the side of his head, sending him sprawling. He rolled once, then lay still.
Opening the door, Murray grabbed his ankles, dragged him inside and closed it. Spinning round, he saw her. For only the second time in his life he felt the gut-wrenching anguish that hits when you fear you are about to discover something awful has befallen someone you care about.
Spread-eagled on top of the bed, Gina was naked, the tatters of her blouse and skirt littering the floor. Her eyes were closed and she wasn’t moving or making any sound. A cloth gag was stuffed into her mouth. He pulled it out, gently. Murray didn’t need to take in the bowl of ice-cubes and the still smoking cigarette in the ashtray to know what had so alarmed Red. Nor as he bent his cheek to her lips did he bother assessing the seeping burns to her body, or try to count them.
But the feathery breath and the fluttering eyelids told him what he needed to know. Taking out his knife, he slashed at the ropes binding her to the bed’s corners. The fact that, though now free, she didn’t move, spoke of how bad she was. About to tend to her, he heard the sound of movement. Turning he saw that her torturer was already coming round. Tough stuff. Bending to him, he secured the man’s wrists behind his back with zip-ties, before pulling up his ankles and attaching them to his wrists in a secure hog-tie. Stuffing the cloth he’d taken from Gina’s mouth into the Mummy’s - more roughly than he needed to - he turned back to her just as she began to stir. G
rabbing the coverlet her tormentor had removed from the bed lest it be soiled – so thoughtful – he wrapped it gently round her, at the same time speaking soft words of comfort.
'It’s me Gina. It’s Peter. I’ve got you. You’re okay now.' In between he managed to speak briefly into his radio. 'I’ve got her, Red. Stand by for my signal.'
'We’re waiting.'
He stopped to listen for signs of alarm elsewhere in the house. So far there weren’t any. Thankfully, they were far enough away from the other bedrooms that the commotion of his clash with the Mummy hadn’t carried. But he knew better than to count on his presence remaining secret much longer. Assuming the plan was now unfolding as intended, only minutes would have elapsed since Red gained entry. The fact no one had yet raised the alarm meant that luck was still on their side. At least two contingencies had anticipated discovery before now. As Gina stirred and her eyes blinked open, he dared to hope that another minute would be enough.
'It’s me Gina, Peter.'
Her eyes widened. Fear giving way to hope. 'Peter? Oh, PETER.'
The number of “Theo”s in the exhausted babble that followed marked it as a prayer of thanks. But there would be time for that later. He needed to get her downstairs. The man on the floor was fully awake now, pulling at the ties.
'Listen to me Gina.' The babbling continued. He shook her, not too hard. 'We have to go. Can you stand?'
The urgency in his voice seemed to register. She nodded, weakly. He helped her to her feet, drawing the cover further round her. But as she straightened, her legs gave way and she collapsed back onto the bed. He gave her a few seconds then tried again. This time she managed to stay upright. Arm around her waist, half-carrying half guiding, he got her to the door. As they passed the man on the floor giving out muffled shouts, Murray aimed a kick into his midriff, regretting he didn’t have the time to give it all he would have liked. The stifled cries changed to deep gasps for air. They stepped out into the corridor. Murray closed the door and listened. Still nothing.
'This way.'
Behind the door, Lamaar drew in as much air as his spasming lungs could manage and prepared himself. He pulled his ankles up as close as he could to his wrists. His scrambling fingers pulled at his trouser leg, exposing the leather sheath attached to his shin. Concentrating, he began to edge the knife out, taking care not to let it slip from his grasp.
Murray led her down the stairs. As they made their way, he hoped to God her laboured breathing and the gasps of pain that came each time her wounds chafed weren’t carrying. Reaching the bathroom, he ushered her inside and then into the cupboard. There wasn’t enough space for both of them.
'Stay quiet,' he said. 'It’ll be dark, but I’m right here.' About to close the door, he saw the look in her face. It reminded him what she had been through, was still going through. Gathering her face in his hands he kissed her full on the lips. It had the desired effect. Hope dawned in her face. He shut the door.
'Trojan,' he said into the radio. 'Helen is secure.'
There was a moment’s silence. Then all hell broke loose.
CHAPTER 56
Somewhere, an attack-alarm wailed. Lights flashed, inside and out. Like the climax to some science fiction film, a red strobe on the wall above the basement alarm button flashed its hysterical warning.
From the living quarters down the corridor, the remaining eight members of the security team Uri had ordered to, ‘Rest, but don’t sleep,’ burst out, Uri leading. Priming Uzis and cocking automatics, they dashed into the control room. Uri hit the button that shut off the alarm before thundering, 'WHAT IS IT?'
He stopped dead. The room was empty. 'BOHDAN?' No reply. He whirled round, eyes searching. 'VASYL?' The same.
'What’s happening Uri?' the call came from behind. The room was filling up fast, everyone as confused as each other. 'Where’s Bohdan? Why-?'
'QUIET,' Uri shouted, brain racing.
'Who set the alarm off?'
'Where’re Bohdan and Vasyl?'
'LOOK.' A finger pointed at the monitors.
As they all craned forward to take in the blurry images, cries of 'FUCK,' and 'SHIZER,' echoed.
Though pitch dark outside, the high camera at the end of the approach track near the road had an infra red mode - and the picture it was sending back was clear enough. Several cars and pick-ups were lined up on the track and the road above it, the heat from their engines glowing bright. The camera covering the fields in front of the house showed several green blobs - people - edging their way forward. There had to be twenty, or more.
'IT’S AN ATTACK,' a voice cried.
Uri responded at once. 'OLAF. Stay with the radio. Everyone else upstairs. Get to the gate. Man the perimeter. NOW.'
Bodies jostled as everyone tried to get up the stairs to the kitchen - the quickest route to the front of the house. As Uri bundled the last one up, he pieced together what must have happened. Seeing the vehicles gathering, Bohdan must have set off the alarm before rushing outside to help Vasyl mount an early defence. It was against instructions but, given the Ukrainians’ limitations, probably understandable. Shaking his head – he would deal with them when the crisis was over – he followed after the others.
As he came out into the hallway heading for the front door, Podruznig was bounding down the stairs. 'What is it Uri?'
Uri filled him in. Always ahead of those working for him, Podruznig glimpsed possibilities. 'The girl. Where is she? Where’s Lamaar?'
Uri twigged. Intent on defending the house, he hadn’t given her a thought. It must have shown in his face. 'Never mind,' Podruznig barked. 'Take charge outside. I’ll check upstairs.'
But even as Uri rushed out the front door and Podruznig turned to retrace his steps, Lamaar’s voice sounded from above.
'HE’S HERE. The Englishman. He’s taken her.'
Looking up, Podruznig saw Lamaar coming towards him. For once, he thought, he looked flushed, dishevelled. But before Podruznig could demand the explanation his rising anger merited, Lamaar shot past without stopping. Bright steel glinted in his hand.
'He must still be in the house. Leave him to me. I will find them.' Already at the foot of the stairs, Lamaar turned towards the kitchen and utility rooms – the most obvious hiding places. 'And then I will kill them,' he added.
'NOT THE GIRL,' Podruznig shouted after him. But Lamaar was already out of sight, leaving Podruznig unsure if he’d heard. 'FUCK,' Podruznig spat. It was all happening too fast. Not enough time to put it together. He thought of Marianna and Sasha. It was obvious now their disappearance was all part of it. In which case he had underestimated the Englishman, again. It would be the last time. Leaving Lamaar to ferret them out – it didn’t matter who killed him so long as he was dead – he dashed out to join Uri.
As Olaf settled himself in front of the bank of screens, his concentration was on listening to the radio as Uri barked out commands - 'Aleksei, bring up the lights. Stanislav, get some grenades,' - and checking the other monitors, making sure they weren’t missing something in the heat of the moment.
As he glanced at the screen showing the approach along the corridor that ran under the swimming pool, he saw the camera was out-of-line - pointing way-too high. He twiddled the joy stick to bring it down, and saw the group of men crowded close up against the door.
'FUCK,' he yelled, and was reaching for the radio switch when something hit him, hard from behind and he saw and heard no more.
Red made sure the burly Russian was out cold before pressing the switch that released the lock on the door. Kishore, Wazzer and Ryan spilled through. As they took in Olaf’s unconscious bulk, Kishore threw Red a questioning look. Red jerked a thumb at a door behind him.
'There’s another in there. Just as well none of them felt like taking a leak when they found out what was happening.' He pointed at the screens and they gathered round. Inside the grounds, Uri’s men were stationing themselves at the gates and the front wall. Out in the field, the green blobs had sto
pped moving forward, waiting.
'Where’s Peter?' Kishore said.
'Back in his cubby hole, but not for long. We need to get up there before they start shooting.'
Outside, Uri and his team were getting ready, weapons loaded and cocked. Red knew that despite their superior numbers, those out in the field had neither the firepower nor the experience for a shootout with Podruznig’s gunmen. He spoke into his radio.
'Trojan.'
'Receiving,' Murray’s whisper came back. He had no way of knowing who might be near.
'Flush the bog and evacuate.'
'Roger.'
The snap of static as Murray switched off his radio – a precaution against it giving him away as he broke cover - came a split-second before Ryan’s warning cry of, 'NO, WAIT.'
CHAPTER 57
'Come on, Gina,' Murray said. 'Time to get you out of here.'
She blinked as he switched on the light. Her grey pallor spoke to her condition. Dehydrated, Murray thought. Blood-sugar way-down. He cursed himself for not thinking to bring a couple of Mars Bars. They were always handy on an op.
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