Miss No One

by Mark Ayre

  "What happened?"

  The pathetic mess of a man was white with fear. He looked ready to faint or collapse. Winston had warned Orion involving the cops this late in the game was a mistake; they would do more harm than good, but Orion wanted them here. He planned to kill them before he, his sister, and Winston got on the plane. That was fine. Winston was paid to do a job, regardless of the obstacles. He got on with it.

  "Enemy crashed," said Winston. "Why don't you piss off?"

  He considered shooting Moore but resisted. This was the guy in charge of turning on the runway lights and radioing the pilot when they came into land.

  Speaking of.

  As with the oncoming car, Winston was the first to hear the new noise. The roaring engine of a private aircraft, big enough for only the pilot and four passengers. A cramped ride, but that was okay. Once the Beckers escaped the country, they could live out the rest of their days in supreme comfort. It would be more than worth a few bumpy, uncomfortable hours.

  Seconds after Winston, Moore heard the plane and looked to the sky, though they couldn't yet see anything.

  "Get on the radio," said Winston. "Tell the pilot about the crash, but let him know he’s still got plenty of room to land if he’s careful. Put on those runway lights."

  Moore was still looking at the sky. Turning back to Winston, the cop's eyes widened as he stared at the car. The black smoke grew more voluminous with each passing second. Winston glanced over his shoulder, then sighed and stepped towards Moore.

  "Moron," he shouted. "Do as I say, and do it right now before—"

  The car exploded.

  In the corner of the narrow room, Ndidi clutched his daughter close and kissed her head. She held onto him. Long before he'd arrived, Isabella's tears had run dry. When they'd reunited, Ndidi had broken down, but his little girl had only clung to him, gripping so tight in her fear. She hadn't said a word.

  Ndidi had run out of hope. Orion had gloated, telling father and daughter the plane was minutes away. When it arrived, he would kill Isabella. The siblings would make Ndidi watch his daughter die, then Rachel would put him out of his misery.

  The clock was ticking. Time was running out.

  When Ndidi first heard the engine, he clutched his daughter tighter than ever. This was it. Here came the plane. All the awful things he'd done, and it had been for nothing. Abbie had called it right when she said Orion had always planned to kill both remaining Ndidi's. Idrissa had let down his wife, and now he had failed his little girl. The detective should have remembered Abbie's words when Orion had called. Rachel was his leverage. What a waste of space. He deserved to die.

  But Isabella did not.

  Winston had moved from the wall. Orion and Rachel stood. That was when Ndidi realised this wasn't a plane’s engine but a car's. A car Orion and Rachel weren't expecting. A car that made them worry.

  And that could only mean one thing.

  Hope sparked and flickered but failed to grow. Winston and Franks departed, both armed. Then there was the crash, right after the shotgun blast. Abbie had ridden to the rescue but fallen at the final hurdle. That crash surely spelt her end.

  Another engine, and this time Ndidi knew it wasn't a car. Here came The Becker getaway plane.

  Hope was extinguished as quickly as it had sparked. Once again, Ndidi clutched tightly to his daughter. He whispered in her ear.

  "I love you. I'm sorry."

  She said nothing in return. Orion was still on his feet, was pacing, and now he grabbed the radio.

  "Moore, plane's incoming. Are those lights on?"

  He waited. There was a crackle over the line but no answer. Orion turned to his younger sister.

  "It'll be fine," said Rachel. She had been calm since she arrived. Never as worried as Orion. Maybe she had practised meditation in prison.

  The elder Becker tried Moore again. Nothing. He grabbed a gun from the table and squeezed it tight in his grip. He glanced at Ndidi and Isabella; there was murder in his eyes.

  Calm as ever, Rachel intervened.

  "Try Xavier."

  Ndidi didn't know the name but guessed it had to be Winston's watchtower man. The sentry's position would enable him to see the crash, the control room, and what might be up with Moore.

  Orion nodded. Radioed Xavier to ask what was going on.

  "Moore's out of his box," Xavier said. "Don't worry, boss, Winston's talking to him. Pointing back. He's going to send him—"

  Something exploded. Ndidi heard it through the walls and the radio. Orion cried out and stumbled as though the blast had hit him, though they were too far away to be affected. He roared into the radio.

  "What the hell happened?"

  "The car's gone up," shouted Xavier. "Both Winston and Moore down. Don’t know if they're moving."

  The radio slipped through Orion's fingers. It was a lot like his plan in that regard.

  "Without the runway lights," he said, "without communication, all the pilot'll see is a flaming wreck. He won't land."

  Rachel met her brother's eye, took this in, then nodded. She had a gun of her own and grabbed a coat, throwing it on.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Dealing with it," she said. "Just make sure you're ready to go."

  Orion watched as Rachel went to the door. Ndidi saw the elder Becker’s desire to argue, to force her to stay. He'd sacrificed so much to see them reunited; he didn't want her to rush into the fray unnecessarily.

  Except it was necessary. Orion knew it, and this knowledge killed the argument before it began.

  Still, as Rachel reached the door, he did call out.

  "Wait." She turned. Orion nodded to Ndidi and Isabella. "Take a hostage. I won’t lose you again.”

  Given a head start by Ana, Abbie had travelled the long way around the airfield's perimeter, and waited. When Ana got close enough to draw the watchtower guard's attention, Abbie had progressed towards the long, tube-shaped building. She was sure it was in here Orion was holding Isabella and Ndidi.

  She worried about Ana but had to focus on Isabella. That meant even when she heard the shotgun blast and the car flip, she had to put Ana's safety from her mind. That was near impossible, though slightly easier when PC Franks distracted Abbie by appearing from the building.

  "Looking for me?

  Frozen by fear, Franks said nothing in return. Stepping away from the trembling cop, Abbie pointed back to the building out of which Franks had just emerged.

  "In."

  Franks didn't hesitate. She was a coward, focused on her safety above all else. As she opened the door, Abbie grabbed her gun, and the cop didn't resist. Then they were inside.

  Keeping her voice low, her gun to the back of Franks' head, Abbie said, "In which room are the Beckers and the hostages? Lie to me, and I'll kill you."

  Franks pointed to a room on the right-hand side towards the centre of the corridor.

  "Both Beckers and both hostages in there?"

  Franks nodded.

  "Anyone else?"

  A shake of the head.

  Because Abbie believed Franks’ cowardice precluded her from lying, for fear of what it might mean for her longevity on Earth, Abbie came forward, put her arm around the cop's throat, and rendered her unconscious in much the same way as she had with Evans; Franks' partner.

  The corrupt constable collapsed. Abbie raised her gun, aiming for the door Franks had previously indicated.

  Outside, on the runway, Evans' car exploded.

  The shockwave would spread in all directions, flattening the grass and knocking over anyone in the near vicinity. The tube building wasn't close enough for the wave to effect it, but Abbie was still smacked by shock.

  Ana had been in that car. Had she escaped in time or died acting as Abbie's decoy?

  If the latter, Abbie would struggle under the guilt of that outcome, but there was no way to know here and now. If guilt was to crush her, let it do so after she had brought Isabella and Ndidi home safely; killed the Bec
kers as a bonus.

  Forcing aside concerns for Ana, Abbie moved up the corridor towards the target door. When she arrived, she put her back to the door opposite and aimed her pistol at the stained wood ahead.

  The layout of the building suggested the door opened onto the far right wall of the room. It opened inwards, so Abbie would burst in and turn left, putting the wall at her back. The siblings would be armed. Abbie would have to pick them out and kill them in two seconds, with two shots. If she missed, one of them would kill her; if she hesitated, one of them would kill her. On the other hand, too much focus on speed could result in her putting a bullet in a hostage rather than a hostile.

  And of course, even if everything went according to plan, she might still be shot, she might still lose the father or his daughter.

  Fearful of all that could go wrong but loaned confidence by memories of many previous and similar scenarios she had successfully navigated, Abbie took a breath and prepared to enter.

  The door swung open.

  Abbie found herself face to face with Ndidi, behind whom was a shocked Rachel, her gun to his back.

  Despite the trauma he had suffered and in which he was still mired, Ndidi was the first to react. Before the door was all the way open, he'd hit the deck. Leaving Rachel and Abbie facing off, both with raised guns.

  Rachel registered Ndidi's move, Abbie's gun. Perhaps prison had dulled her reflexes because she was neither the first nor the second to adapt and react to this surprising turn of events.

  Abbie fired without moving her gun. No time for that. Luckily, Rachel filled the door frame. Abbie's first bullet smashed into the middle Becker child's chest, driving her back.

  As Rachel staggered, Abbie raised her gun, aimed for the head, and put a second bullet right between the escaped prisoner's eyes.

  Forty

  Ears ringing, bones trembling, Winston rolled. Fighting the pain, the swimming vision, the pounding headache, he forced his arms beneath his body and pushed. Somehow, he made it onto his knees. Now, he was staring into the flaming wreckage of the box-shaped car Abbie had tried to race down the runway.

  She had to be dead, didn't she?

  Despite swaying a little, even when propped on his knees, Winston managed to climb to his feet. Almost at once, he thought he would fall, but he was a man of incredible resolve and determination. He told his legs not to give out. Like everyone else, his legs feared him, and they obeyed.

  Winston took two tentative steps. Black smoke billowed around him, and when he took a deep breath, he followed up with a hacking cough. Despite this, he felt better with every foot he progressed.

  His shotgun had flown from his hands in the shockwave. He found it a couple of metres from where he'd fallen. He checked it over. Good working order. Loaded. Not a problem.

  Nearby, Winston saw Moore. Despite being further from the car when the engine exploded, Moore was still as a corpse on the ground while Winston was standing. It looked as though the blast had hauled the corrupt DS into the air, and he had landed awkwardly on his head. Winston didn't know if the cop was dead and didn't care.

  But so long as he was out of action...

  The ringing in his ears was growing quieter, and as it did, another sound replaced the annoying flatline—a roaring. At first, Winston thought the noise was internal, another result of the explosion. Then he realised it was coming from above, and he realised what Moore's unconsciousness meant for Becker's precious escape.

  Looking up, he saw the source of the sound as the plane whizzed overhead. He watched it pass the watchtower and carry on, climbing as it went, fast turning from a plane to a speck on the horizon. The sound of its engine grew fainter and fainter, and the spec disappeared.

  Moore hadn't turned on the runway lights nor radioed to update the pilot on the situation. As a result, the pilot had considered landing too risky. He was gone, and he wasn't coming back. Not tonight anyway.

  The meticulously planned escape was finished.

  The plane out of earshot, the ringing down to a buzz, Winston had no trouble hearing the gunshots from the tube-building.

  Maybe Abbie wasn't dead after all.

  Orion just couldn't catch a break.

  Orion roared with despair and fury.

  As Rachel crumpled, Abbie stepped over Ndidi into the room, her arms rotating until she had Orion in her sights.

  Grief and rage had not paralysed or even slowed Orion's reactions. Even as his sister's life left her body, the senior Becker child was crossing the room. As Abbie entered, he was grabbing Isabella around the throat. By the time Abbie trained her gun on the crook, he had his weapon pressed to the child's skull.

  "Stop where you are and drop the gun," said Orion. "You know what happens if you don't."

  The eldest Becker's voice was half delirious and had taken on a strange pitch. Abbie determined not to let her fear for Isabella, caught in the hands of this deranged man, affect her own voice. She remained calm.

  "Don't be a fool, Orion. It's done. Game over."

  Orion was shaking his head as Abbie spoke, each rotation becoming more exaggerated and aggressive until it looked as though his neck might snap.

  "Something tells me this game doesn't end till either you or I lie dead. You must see that?"

  She read the situation in much the same way but shook her head none the less.

  "I'm Abbie King," she said.

  "Don't you think I know that by now?"

  "Yeah, and that's my point. Since I've been doing this, going against scum like you, I've stood alone. I've been Abbie King. What about you? People tremble at the mere thought of the Beckers, but that's the way the cops and your victims describe you: the Beckers. The mum and her three children. You were so tight none of you kids ever got married, ever had little ones of your own. Let's face it, the Becker family were so much more than the sum of their parts. As for me, I'm a one part operation. I'm the complete package."

  "Not for long," said Orion. "Not when you're dead."

  "Oh, Give it up," said Abbie. "Even if I die here, you're done, and you know it. You'll have to slink back into hiding, and you could never resurface. It's over for you, so let the girl go. Surrender."

  Still shaking his head, Orion said, "It's never over. You called one thing right, and that's how tight me and my siblings and my mum were. The Becker family. Yeah. Watching my sister die broke my heart all over again. I don't know how to go on without her, without my brother, my mum. But you know what? I can't go to prison, and I ain't ready to die, which only leaves one option. I got to get out of here, and I got to do it now." He pressed the gun more tightly to Isabella's head. "Move, or I kill her."

  "You kill her, and I kill you."

  "But you won't let her die."

  "And you can't let yourself die, so where does that leave us? An impasse, I reckon."

  Orion's hand was shaking.

  "Three seconds," he said, "or I do it."

  Abbie had no doubt Orion feared death. He knew Abbie would kill him if he put a bullet in Isabella, but he was unhinged, grief-stricken. Men and women in the grips of significant loss were the hardest to predict. Sometimes, they made moves that went entirely against their self-interest.

  But Abbie had to take the risk. Her gun was aimed at Orion's chest; to drive the point home about her determination, she retargeted it at his head.

  "Pull that trigger, sign your death warrant."

  Ndidi was up. He stood outside the door but right behind Abbie, who half expected him to try and convince Abbie to stand aside.

  But he had gone against her too many times. It had to be killing the detective, but he was letting Abbie call the shots on this occasion.

  "We'll see," said Orion. "Three... two... one..."

  Winston rushed into the control room and grabbed Moore's radio. Unbeknownst to Orion, he had a channel reserved for him and his last two guys, Victor and Xavier.

  "Xave, keep in that tower and put a bullet in any unfriendly who leaves the building. Vi
c, you in position?"

  "I'm here, Win."

  "Fine. Hold for my go."

  Even through the black smoke, Winston could make out the shape of Xavier atop the guard tower. He only hoped Xavier's vision wasn't so impeded by the exploded car that he would fail to make any necessary shot. Raising his hand in salute, Winston rushed to the tube building's control room end entrance. Behind him, down the grassy verge, were two cars. Rachel had the keys to Moore’s car, but the other, the larger, belonged to Winston, and he had the keys. That was their only escape route now.

  Winston had considered fleeing with his guys. It wasn't like Orion would be pleasant company now his plan had collapsed. Besides, Winston was starting to believe Abbie immortal.

  But the Beckers were worth a lot of money to Win. More than that, this was about professional pride. Winston couldn't retreat. Not this time.

  Pressing the radio to his lips, Winston spoke in a whisper to Victor.

  "On my count. Three... two... one..."

  "Zero."

  Orion finished his count. No one moved.

  "Come on," said Abbie. "That's enough now."

  At either end of the building, external doors burst in. A shot was fired.

  Keeping her gun on Orion, Abbie turned as Ndidi jumped through the door into the room. He appeared unharmed.

  "Orion, Rachel. Time to move."

  Abbie recognised the voice. Smoker. And by the sounds, he had a colleague coming in with him.

  "Winston," said Orion, his voice still delirious, "I'm on my way."

  Abbie's mind whirred, perhaps distracted by the news Smoker was called Winston, but Orion acted immediately. Hauling Isabella off the ground, he started shuffling towards the door, moving in an arc, keeping his gun pressed to the whimpering child's skull.

  "Stand back," he said, then he screamed it. "Stand back."

  Ndidi was up. With a firm hand, he took Abbie's arm and tugged her. Her gun still aimed at Orion, she did move back. She watched as Orion scuttled across the room and slipped through the door into the corridor.