No Way Out: an edge of your seat crime thriller

by DC Brockwell

  She shrugged. “My partner looked him up, but his file’s been redacted.”

  “Redacted? Why?”

  Nasreen looked at the officer in the darkness. He was asking a rhetorical question; he didn’t expect a response, so she didn’t give him one.

  “My agency has been investigating Rothstein for a good month,” the man explained. “He’s just your typical gangster. Well, I say typical… he’s anything but typical. We’ve not been able to pin a single thing on him… until now. Finally though, we’ve got a witness willing to testify against Rothstein, hence why I’m here.”

  She looked around her pointedly. “Just you? Where’s your backup?”

  “Waiting on a warrant.”

  “Uh-huh!” This guy was full of shit, she thought, picking up the binoculars once again and studying the barn. It was nearly time for her to go in and get Danny out, and this NCA guy could come with her or not – she didn’t care. She had to do this, for her friend, for her Danny. The adrenaline was starting to kick in.

  “What’re you doing?”

  She felt his hand on her shoulder. “I’m going in.” She picked up the pistol and switched off the safety.

  “Hell no, we’re not!” he said in a forceful whisper. “I’m calling this in. The search warrant might have come through by now.”

  “We’re not going anywhere.” She shook his hand off her shoulder. “My friend’s in there and I’m going in to get him. Come with me or don’t, it’s up to you.”

  “Do you want to get yourself killed, huh? Because that’s what’s going to happen.”

  There was a pause.

  “Look, Nasreen,” the NCA officer said, his voice softer, “let me call this in and see where the land lies, okay?”

  Nodding, she waited for him to put his earpiece in before she stood and ran up the bank. She navigated the perimeter fence by going over one beam and under another, and within seconds she was on the Harrison property.

  The last thing she heard was Steven calling for her to return…

  “Nasreen, come back!” he growled, watching as she bent down to get under the top fence beam. When he realised she wasn’t going to, he called through to Control and asked to be put through to Director General Holmes.

  Nasreen was out of sight by the time the director answered, so Steven picked up her binoculars and tried to find her shadow in the darkness. The light of the barn made it possible, but he couldn’t see her.

  “Officer Dyer, where the hell are you?”

  “I’m outside the Harrison farm. Have we received the warrant yet, sir?”

  “That’s a negative on the warrant. You are to wait right where you are until I say so, is that clear?”

  Fuck! He couldn’t leave the detective out there on her own; she was going to get herself killed. He couldn’t, in good conscience, sit here and let it happen. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir,” he said. “There’s been a complication…”

  “What? What kind of complication?”

  “I’ve just met a detective; she’s breached the Harrison farm, sir.”

  There was a pause, and then a different voice came over the radio.

  “Who, Officer Dyer? Who was it?”

  “Nasreen Maqsood, sir? Who the hell is this?”

  There was another pause.

  “This is Assistant Commissioner Peter Franks. Did you say Nasreen Maqsood?”

  “That’s affirmative, sir. She’s breached the farm perimeter. She’s after a friend of hers called Danny. She’s very focused… what do you want me to do? Shall I go after her?”

  There was a longer pause.

  “Sir? Shall I assist Detective Maqsood?”

  “That’s a negative, Officer Dyer. Nasreen’s not a detective anymore. She must be apprehended at once, is that understood? Do whatever you must to ensure she doesn’t breach that bunker.”

  That was Assistant Commissioner Franks giving him orders. Steven wasn’t about to go and arrest Nasreen. After all, her goal was the same as his: they both wanted to save the abductees. He searched the darkness for her shadow. He still couldn’t see her through the binoculars. This detective was stealthy, he had to give her that.

  “Officer Dyer, do you understand what I’ve just said? Nasreen Maqsood is a rogue police officer; she must be apprehended immediately. Officer Dyer?”

  Steven let Franks and Holmes sweat while he located Nasreen in the shadows and watched her creep closer to the barn. She was brave; she might even be the bravest cop Steven had ever met – and feisty too. He couldn’t let her go in alone, but if he breached the farm now, without a warrant, it could blow any case they might have against Rothstein.

  “Detective Maqsood’s at the barn now, sir,” he replied finally. “She’s about to enter; I won’t reach her in time…”

  Nasreen was shielded by darkness. She crept up to the barn, her pistol poised and ready for action, the light from the barn drawing closer with each footstep.

  Sweat formed on her brow.

  She knew how dangerous her mission was – one wrong move could be the end of her – and as she reached the barn door, she tried not to think of Mina, of what would happen to her.

  Holding her pistol out in front of her with both hands, Nasreen turned right and entered the barn, moving her arms to cover the whole area quickly. She saw the Range Rover parked at the back of the barn, and after checking that no one was behind it, she decided it was clear. In front of the Range Rover was the opening to the bunker.

  Taking a deep breath, she approached the hatchway and looked down the stairs; there was a man walking up, his head down. He was humming to himself and hadn’t seen her yet.

  She held the gun on him, hoping he wouldn’t look up.

  As he reached the fourth step from the top, he looked up, as she kicked him square in the face, the heel of her boot smashing his nose in a torrent of crimson. His head snapped back and he tumbled down the stairs, turning and hitting every part of his body as he rolled down all twenty-six steps.

  Nasreen quickly followed the fallen guard – her gun still out and ready to fire – and as she reached the bottom, she knew she was in enemy territory – there was no turning back.

  She didn’t know how many guards were down here.

  So far, it looked like only the one, a crumpled heap on the floor behind her.

  He was out cold, so she didn’t have to worry about him.

  Looking around, she first noticed the plush bar to her left.

  In front of her were what appeared to be twenty doors, ten on either side. Danny had to be in one of these rooms, she thought. Right at the farthest end of the bunker were two doors, one big heavy and metal, the other smaller and open.

  Needing to check that the area was clear, Nasreen approached the bar.

  As she leaned over, a white-shirted man jumped up and knocked the gun out of her hand with his elbow.

  He grabbed her head, and slammed her forehead down on the bar surface.

  It was so quick, she had no time to react.

  On the floor, dazed and confused, she felt her arms being pulled as her body was dragged through the bar area and along the corridor, past the doors…

  63

  “Well, well, if it isn’t Detective Maqsood.”

  Beattie crouched and stared at the semi-conscious police officer.

  She was prettier in person than in her Facebook feeds, Beattie thought. “Or should I say ex-detective?” she added. “You have no right to be down here, Nasreen; you have no powers of arrest anymore.”

  Standing back up, she looked at the guard. “Put her in C Wing, room two…”

  Steven spotted headlights to his left, and a few seconds later a large-set man opened the gate, got in his four-by-four, and drove into the farm, getting out and closing the gate again before driving up to the house. He watched the stocky man walk up to the farmhouse as three men came out, carrying something between them. He watched the four men carefully, trying to see what they were holding. It was too d
ark.

  The four men chatted briefly before the stocky man seemed to take control, and when the stocky man took a long thin object from one of the others, Steven suddenly realised what it was. “I can’t wait any longer,” he said into his microphone. “Four men have come out of the farmhouse carrying a fucking arsenal. I’m going in!”

  He unholstered his Glock and climbed the bank to the perimeter fence. He was shielded by darkness, so he was safe to approach the men – at least, until he got closer to the barn.

  “Don’t breach that farm, Officer Dyer,” came Holmes’ angry voice. “Listen, if you breach it now, any case against Rothstein will be forfeited, do you understand? We don’t have a search warrant yet.”

  “Nasreen’s in there,” Steven replied, crouching under the top fence beam and then heading over the middle beam. “They’re going to kill her.”

  “That’s not your concern,” came the irate voice. “I repeat, do not breach that farm!”

  “Fuck you, sir!” Steven snapped, watching the four men in front of him as they started walking towards the barn.

  “What? What did you just say to me?”

  “Fuck you very much,” he replied, having always wanted a reason to say it.

  He took out his earpiece and threw it behind him.

  He had to focus; he was about to engage four heavily armed men, by himself, with no backup on the way. How had it come to this?

  He took a deep breath. This would probably be his last act as an NCA Officer; he would surely be fired the next day, if he survived the night…

  “What the fuck are we going to do now? We can’t just leave him to face them alone, Peter!” said Holmes. “We have to send backup.”

  Franks nodded in agreement.

  The farm was officially breached; there was nothing they could do to prevent that now. Rothstein’s time was over. He had to think his next move through. “Fine, I’ll send the most local armed response team. Leave it with me.”

  Phoning the local Police and Crime Commissioner, Franks explained the situation, gave him the address, and ordered a fully armed assault team to assist Officer Dyer and Detective Maqsood. This whole situation was unravelling faster than Franks could think; before he knew it, Rothstein would be arrested and then they would all be screwed.

  There was only one solution to this: Rothstein had to go. They couldn’t risk him exposing the project, and that was exactly what he had threatened to do.

  First things first: he had to warn Rothstein to flee, so that the local police didn’t arrest him at his home or any other known residence.

  With only Holmes in the room with him, he took his mobile out of his jacket pocket and dialled Rothstein’s number. “Will, it’s me. Everything’s gone south. The farm’s being breached as we speak. Do whatever you need to do to get out of harm’s way, I’ll be in touch shortly.” Franks cut him off, not giving Rothstein the chance to react.

  Franks imagined Rothstein would be putting together a suitcase and fleeing his home. By the end of the night, the gangster would be the most wanted man in the UK.

  Now Franks had warned Rothstein, he had to put the last act into play…

  Nasreen came around slowly. Her head was pounding and she felt nauseous.

  What the hell had happened?

  She tried to think back to the last thing she could remember: a sudden flash of white, then being pulled by her arms.

  It suddenly dawned on her where she was.

  When she opened her eyes, she found her hands were bound to something – she couldn’t move them – and when she tried moving her legs, they were bound too.

  Looking down, she realised she was tied to a chair.

  Peering around the room, she saw the red-brown stains on the concrete floor around her – there were blotches everywhere – and when her head finally cleared, she knew they were bloodstains. There were so many… there were even stains on the walls. When she looked up and saw chains dangling from the ceiling, she felt very, very sick. She was in one of the torture rooms that Conrad Gebhardt had told her about.

  From behind her, she heard a door open and the sound of footsteps.

  Then she heard the door close. She was finding it hard to stay awake, but while she was suffering from concussion and wanted to sleep, the fear kept her alert.

  “Has anyone ever told you how troublesome you are, huh?”

  She turned her head left, then right, trying to catch a glimpse of the voice’s owner.

  “You wanted to find out what happened to your precious Danny, yes?”

  A woman appeared before her.

  She had long red hair, a good physique, and green eyes.

  Beatrice Harrison.

  “Where is he? What have you done with him?” Nasreen rasped, her voice strained.

  “That’s what you’re here to find out, isn’t it? Let me show you,” replied the psychotic bitch, bringing a knife out from behind her back.

  The woman stepped towards her.

  Moving as much as she could tied to the chair, Nasreen tried to get away from the knife.

  She moved her head back as far as it would go just as the knife touched her right cheek.

  A burning sensation gripped her cheek, as the woman swiped the serrated knife through her flesh, splitting it open.

  Blood gushed down her face, neck, and chest.

  “And that’s just for starters…”

  64

  Steven had to get to the barn first, to cut them off.

  Fortunate to still be shrouded in darkness, he ran low, trying to make himself as invisible as possible, watching as they walked slowly towards the barn.

  If he kept the same pace, he’d reach the barn first and be able to engage them, having the upper hand. He could see the stocky man had a shotgun, but the rest only had handguns. They hadn’t seen him yet, so he kept going, gaining on the barn.

  He was about fifty metres from the barn when he heard someone yell in a foreign language – possibly German – so he sped up, reaching the safety of the outhouse where he turned to face the guards. “Put your guns on the ground! You’re under arrest!”

  The first gunshot came from the stocky man.

  The shotgun reverberated through the floor.

  Steven fired a single round and shot the stocky man, watching him fall to the ground, the shotgun falling by his feet.

  Unsure if Stocky Man was out for good, he didn’t have time to check.

  A second later, the three other guards opened fire with their handguns.

  Steven ducked inside the barn, taking cover as the bullets hit and cracked the wood.

  In return, he fired two rounds by swerving around the door frame and hit the nearest guard in the chest.

  The guard fell back and lay still.

  Two down, two to go.

  He hid behind the barn wood again – waiting for the returning fire to cease.

  Finding his moment, he went to move just as a bullet cracked the corner of the barn door frame, causing splinters to fly out and hit his face and eyes.

  Momentarily blinded, Steven continued his assault, firing in the general direction of the guards. Then, after five shots, he hid behind the door frame to load a new clip. He wiped his face, trying to get the splinter out of his eye, with no idea of whether his bullets had hit their targets…

  Peter Franks opened the door to the interview room where Garvey was sat at the table. He walked over to the camera and switched it off.

  No one could hear what he was going to say.

  Before he’d gone inside, he’d phoned Clive Adams and asked him to meet him in a couple of hours. Then Franks had requisitioned an unmarked police car. He knew what he had to do. First, he had to get Garvey out of the station. “Garvey, I’m here to take you into protective custody, as part of your deal to testify against William Rothstein. Get up!”

  He handcuffed Garvey and led him out of the interview room, taking him along the corridor and then out of the station via the fire exit stairs. Outside in
the car park, he opened the rear passenger door of his car and let Garvey get in, closing it after him.

  Getting in the driver’s seat, he closed the door and started the engine.

  “Where are we going, Commissioner? Where are you taking me?”

  Franks didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped on the accelerator and followed the GPS instructions.

  He had a plan, and it had to work.

  There was no room for failure on this one…

  Having taken cover again, Steven crouched down, peeked out from behind the door frame, and fired five more shots, watching as the fourth and final guard fell, slumping down onto the floor. He’d managed to get the third guard after he’d been hit in the eye with wood splinters.

  Knowing he had successfully taken out the four guards, Steven ran out to make sure they were incapacitated, which they were. He then collected their weapons and walked with the cache into the barn, leaving them in a corner before descending the stairs down into the bunker.

  When he reached the bunker floor, he looked around, seeing the bar and the luxurious seating area, and then the doors spreading out along the corridor. This was where the abductees had to be held, he thought, his gun still out in front of him, ready to discharge at the slightest provocation. “Nasreen?” he yelled out…

  Nasreen flinched as she felt the tip of the knife digging through her blouse, into her left breast.

  The woman in front of her relished taunting her, threatening her with painful torture.

  As Nasreen felt the blood dripping down her cheek and neck, she shouted, “Tell me where Danny is, you bitch!” She was trying to ignore the scratching of the knife near her nipple.

  “Oh, he’s around here somewhere, not that you’ll get to see him. And if I were you, I’d be more worried about your own predicament than his. You’re not in a good place right now, you know?”

  Nasreen closed her eyes and prayed to Allah under her breath; if she ever needed His help, it was now. Her lips moved but no words came out. She could feel the knife directly under her nipple.