Sims turned, his face colliding with the ferocious right hook Sam connected with, knocking the man off balance. Behind him, Sam could hear the furious cries of the German police, their footsteps thudding loudly as they zeroed in on him. Sam snapped the cuff around Buck’s wrist, pinning him face down to the metal with a knee. He yanked the man’s shoulder back towards the barrier that framed the tier they were stood on. Sam slid the handcuff around one of the iron joints of the barrier and then slapped the other cuff around Sims’s wrist, the commander still woozy from his vicious blow.
‘Get the fuck off me,’ Buck yelled, struggling against the pressure Sam applied. The German officers were less than ten feet away and Sam quickly stuffed his hand into Buck’s pocket, found the key to the cuffs and threw it as hard as he could into the station.
Sam set off to the stairwell, the three German officers on his tail and a bloodthirsty Buck attached to his commander.
On the ground, Evans, Ray, Alex, and the other lady, nicknamed ‘Rocky’, were slowly following Marsden, watching as he weaved between the families and tourists that were quickly filling up the concourse. Evans clocked a few police officers who were also showing interest, pleased that the local authorities had been so helpful. He was sure Sims had promised them a generous bonus payment.
The man had his way of dealing with problems. Evans may not have liked Sims personally, but he respected the man’s bullish refusal to accept no for an answer.
Evans motioned to Rocky to head down the subway stairs, wanting to ensure they had eyes below if Marsden decided to change direction or make a break for it.
Not on Evans’s watch.
With careful steps, Evans kept to the edge of the concourse, cautiously walking across the busy doorways to a number of eateries. Customers rushed in and out and one young, attractive blonde woman almost covered him in piping hot coffee.
He offered her a curt smile and then moved past her. He had no time to flirt with the local talent. That had been a few evenings earlier, with him and Rocky seeing which one of them could take a German girl back to the hotel room. After several drinks and bumps of coke, they both managed it.
Stories for another time.
Evans watched as Ray moved across the other side of the concourse, his eyes fixed on the red and grey coat of Marsden up ahead. Somewhere in the crowd, Alex was also keeping her eyes peeled, but Evans didn’t care. She wasn’t like the rest of them. She was a driver; she didn’t belong in the field, but Sims seemed to have some twisted delighted in keeping her on-board.
Something about her family.
Whatever it was, it pleased Sims and Evans didn’t care enough about Alex to ask further questions.
Marsden approached a gate.
Evans raised his jacket cuff, where is mic resided.
*Crackle*… Marsden is approaching gate nine … headed to Paris. *crackle*… Moving in…
Through his earpiece, Sam heard Evans’s update and pushed open the door to the stairwell, slamming it shut behind him. Instead of leaping down the stairs, Sam stepped to the side of the door, pressed himself against the wall and took a deep breath.
He wouldn’t get anywhere with three cops on his tail.
Seconds later, the first police officer burst through the door and Sam reached out, grabbing the man by the back of the head and using his momentum to drive him headfirst into the wall. As the man collapsed, Sam turned and the second officer charged into him, driving his shoulder into Sam’s gut and pushing him back a few steps. Sam drove his elbow down hard into the man’s spine, trying to break free, when the third officer raced through the doorway to join the mayhem.
Sam drove a hard elbow into his attacker’s neck, weakening his grip and then raised a hard knee into the man’s face. The man rocked back, stumbling backwards as the third officer charged forward with his gun aimed at Sam. Instinctively, Sam shot his hand out, striking the man’s wrist and knocking his arm upwards.
Bang!
The gun fired, the bullet embedding itself in the roof of the stairwell. With his fingers firmly gripped on the man’s wrist, Sam twisted it sharply, feeling the bone snap before pulling the man towards him and striking him viciously with his elbow. Without releasing the man’s shattered wrist, Sam wrenched himself under the man’s arm, twisting the tendons in the man’s shoulder. As he stepped through, he thrust his boot right into the other guard’s chest, sending him hurtling back into the wall of the narrow landing. As the second guard slumped against the brickwork, Sam then drove his elbow deep firmly into the back of the final guard’s head, relinquishing his grip on the man as he flopped to the ground.
All three officers were unconscious, and Sam straightened his jacket and then bound down the steps three at a time.
Alex slowly followed roughly ten feet behind Evans, doing enough to be visible by the team but not to have any impact on what happened. After her night with Sam, she felt more inclined to help Marsden, to see if maybe her team could be reasoned with. Having witnessed them shoot a number of key targets, some of whom were only witnesses, she knew that Blackridge didn’t deal in diplomacy.
They dealt in lead.
As she watched Marsden approach the barrier, he slid his ticket into the machine and the turnstile burst open, granting him access to the platform. A good thirty metres up the platform was the train to Paris, the large door already open to welcome the early arrivals onto the carriage.
Evans sent his command to the team, before hastily making his way towards the platform, pushing past a few unsuspecting commuters who berated him in their native tongue. He clearly didn’t care; he was moving in on his target and Evans was like a shark smelling blood. Across the concourse, Ray was forging a similar path through the crowds of people.
Suddenly, the echo of a gunshot filled the train station, causing an instant panic to spread through the public like a forest fire.
The earpiece crackled to life.
‘Sam Pope has gone rogue. I repeat, Sam Pope has gone rogue. Shoot on sight.’
A smile crept across Alex’s face as Buck’s enraged voice barked out his warning, but then she saw Evans and Ray jump the barrier and race up the platform. Amidst the panic, Marsden was fast approaching the door to the train when Evans dropped to one knee, pulled his handgun from his shoulder holster, and in one fluid motion, aligned the sight with his eye.
He pulled the trigger.
The thunderous roar of his gun sent another shockwave of panic through the station, as well as a bullet which ripped through Marsden’s right calf muscle. The treacherous old Sergeant fell forward onto the unforgiven concrete, howling pain as blood quickly pumped out of his leg. Ray raced forward, his gun drawn, aiming it at the body on the floor. With a rough kick, Ray turned Marsden over.
A young, mid-twenties Chinese man looked back at him.
*Crackle*… It’s a decoy. I repeat, it isn’t Marsden!
Infuriated, Evans raced back towards the barrier, scowling at Alex and demanding she follow him. Ray raced behind them, as they cut through the swathes of people all cowering on the ground, being reassured by the police that everything was fine.
Another crackle came through the earpiece, this time, Rocky’s voice, clearly mid-run.
‘I’ve got him…*crackle*… Platform twelve. South east side. Suspect is fleeing to departing train.’
At that moment, the shrill wail of the fire alarm broke out, taking the bubbling pressure of the situation over the edge and the commuters began to rush wildly towards the exits. As the police fought uselessly to control the situation, Evans and Ray used whatever force necessary to forge their runway to platform twelve.
Alex followed, as the station descended into chaos.
Sam stopped at the bottom of the stairwell, pressing his finger to his ear and listening intently.
*crackle*. It’s a decoy. I repeat, it isn’t Marsden!
A smile curled across his lips. Just as he’d expected, Marsden wouldn’t walk blindly into a trap. The man was one
of the smartest people Sam had met, and he knew Marsden would have seen this coming. All Sam had to do now was get to him before the others did. As Sam raced through the service corridor towards the door to the concourse, his earpiece crackled into life again.
‘I’ve got him… *crackle*… Platform twelve. South east side. Suspect is fleeing to departing train.’
‘Shit,’ Sam said out loud, picking up the pace for the final few feet to the door. As he reached for the handle, he slowed himself. Beyond the door, the rising murmurs of panic echoed through the large station, the second gunshot moments before the decoy reveal had sent the station into a tailspin.
Sam reached out, smashed the fire alarm and decided to add to the chaos.
The glass shattered to the concrete below and instantly, the shrill ringing of the alarm roared through the station. Sam pulled open the door and stepped out, staying close to the wall as he walked against the tide of people being ushered towards the exit. An automated voice tried to battle the alarm for prominence, asking the German citizens and the plethora of tourists to remain calm.
Sam saw the sign for platform twelve.
With only a minute before the doors closed, the station had given the green light for the train to depart. As Sam raced towards the barriers, he saw Ray hop onto the back carriage. Assuming Marsden was somewhere on the twelve-carriage train, Sam hopped the barrier, immediately confronted by a German officer who thrust a hand into Sam’s chest, his other hand reaching for the pistol strapped to his belt. Sam stepped forward, grabbed the man’s arm, and hauled him over his shoulder, driving the man into the concrete and air from his lungs. As the guard wheezed in pain, Sam turned straight into the barrel of a pistol.
On the other side was Alex Stone.
Sam raised his hands and his eyebrows, staring intently at the woman he’d made love to the night before. Her eyes were watering knowing her family’s safety and security was on the line and her orders from Sims would be crystal clear.
Stop Sam Pope.
A shrill whistle indicated the train was ready to depart, the final train for what would easily be a few hours after the mayhem Sam and Blackridge had caused. Alex’s hand shook, the gun a few feet from Sam’s chest. Sam took a step towards the train and Alex’s arm followed him.
‘I’ll come back for you,’ Sam said sternly. ‘I promise.’
Alex gritted her teeth and then lowered her arm, signalling for Sam to go. He did, exploding towards the train as fast as he could, as Alex turned towards the German police officers and shot a bullet into the air, sparking more panic and a healthy distraction. Sam shot a glance over his shoulder, watching as Alex gently placed the gun on the ground and began to lower herself after it.
She would be arrested and detained as a terror threat.
Sims would get her out of it. Just as long as he didn’t find out she’d let Sam go.
As the doors began to beep and slide together, Sam bounded the final few steps and launched himself through the doors, onto the cold, solid floor of the carriage. A few of the passengers, already spooked by the events at the station, startled, but Sam held his hands up in surrender.
He racked his brains for any passable German diction.
‘Ich bin hier um zu helfen.’
His calm declaration of help seemed to work, and a few passengers looked up the corridor, directing him to where Ray would have been. Sam nodded and began his journey through the train, the LED screen suspended from the roof telling him it was a non-stop train to Rome, Italy.
Sam marched towards the next carriage, ready to go to war.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The first carriage was clear, all the passengers were too engrossed in their tablets or books to even notice Sam as he marched through the walkway. Scouting the faces as he went, Sam made his way hastily through to the next carriage, passing through the two interconnecting doors and being blasted by the cold air between the carriages.
He closed it gently behind him, nodding an apology to a young man and his daughter, who shuddered at the instant blast of cold air.
Sam heard a feint cackle on his earpiece, but the message wasn’t clear, the reception cracking as they moved further away from Berlin. Sam dropped it from his ear and continued down the carriage, noticing Ray slowly walking ahead of him, his hand ready to snap to his pistol at any moment.
They were not there to catch Marsden alive. That much, Sam was sure of. He was also certain that if they saw him, a similar fate awaited.
At the end of the carriage, the walkway narrowed down into a small waiting area, hidden behind the large, toilet cubicle. The light above the door was green, indicating it was vacant and Ray stepped through the narrow entrance, into the secluded space where commuters waited patiently for the doors to open to debark. Ray raised his finger to his ear, scowling at the interference. The train trundled on, entering a tunnel and bathing the waiting area in darkness.
Ray reached out and tapped the ‘open’ button, his hand racing to his pistol as the electronic door hissed, and then slid to the side.
The large cubicle was empty.
Sam made his move.
With all of his power, Sam shunted his shoulder directly into Ray’s spine, sending him crashing into the empty cubicle. As Ray shot forward, his neck snapped back, the whiplash instant and his brain shook on impact. Seconds later, his face collided with the hard, laminate cabinet above the sink, the storage unit housing the water, hand dryer and soap, all within its magical confines. Sam stepped in behind Ray, pressing the ‘close’ button and allowing the door to slide shut behind them.
Ray tried to gather himself, his hand limply pulling the gun from the inside of his jacket, but Sam grabbed his wrist, straightened the arm and with his other palm, shattered Ray’s forearm. As the bone snapped in half, Ray opened his mouth to scream in pain, but Sam pulled his jacket over his face, muffling the noise. With his fist gripping the jacket, Sam drove it downward, slamming Ray’s head on the side of the toilet. Ray went limp, his unconscious body propped against the faux porcelain. Sam quickly dropped down to Ray’s prone body, emptying his pockets onto the floor. Sam took the cash, about fifty euros before dumping the rest of it into the toilet and flushing. Whatever was left after, would be useless anyway.
Next, Sam pulled open the cabinet underneath the sink, revealing the extra supplies used to replenish. Quickly, he grabbed the roll of plastic bags tearing one free and then removing the thick, durable plastic string that comprised the handle. Sam pulled another bag and repeated the removal before tying the two pieces together with a tight, double knot. With a gentle shove, he moved Ray’s motionless body to the floor and then pulled his arms up behind his back, carefully manoeuvring the shattered radius into position. With both hands pressed together, Sam wrapped the thin plastic around the wrists, binding them together. The plastic would be too difficult to snap, especially with the damage Sam had done to the man’s arm. Next, Sam pulled a number of paper towels from the towel dispenser, and stuffed them into Ray’s mouth, tying them in place with the rest of the plastic bag.
Lastly, Sam pulled Ray into position, so his feet were either side of the toilet. With quite a bit of difficulty, Sam managed to wrap a carrier bag around both ankles and tied them together with a firm, double knot. Ray was still motionless, lying on his front with a large gash on his head and his shattered arm pinned to his back. He couldn’t move or call for help.
Sam hit the button, the door sliding open to reveal an empty walkway. Sam hit the close button quickly, shutting the devastation from the world. Beside the door, an out-of-order sign was tucked onto a small shelf. Sam smiled, pinning it to the door before moving on through the carriage as quickly as he could.
Marsden knew they had made it onto the train, so he rushed as quickly as he could through the interconnecting carriages, headed for the sanctuary of the private room he’d booked. At sixty-two years of age, Marsden didn’t fancy taking on any of the Blackridge mercenaries in hand to hand combat. He kep
t himself in shape and was a dab hand in the boxing ring in his prime, but nowadays it would be useless. While he despised the notion of a privatized and monetized military regiment, he knew the men and women recruited to Blackridge were the best of the best.
Similar to Project Hailstorm.
The very thought caused his heart to beat faster, the realization of what he’d set in motion was heavy to bear.
But what Marsden had in his pocket wouldn’t just change the war on terror, it would change the entire political landscape completely.
Weaving past a few commuters, Marsden flashed them an unreciprocated grin before venturing into the next carriage. Far longer than the one previous, the carriage was split out into a number of rooms, a thin slither of privacy that comprised of a bed and possibly a toilet. It wasn’t luxury, but for a sixteen-hour train journey, it felt like five star. As Marsden walked through the thin corridor connecting the rooms, the train jolted into a tunnel, the murky view of the cold, windswept German countryside replaced by an empty darkness. Marsden caught his reflection in the window, his grey beard thick and unkept.
He looked a mess.
A long way from his smart, regimented army days.
No, his dark skin was showing signs of age, a few wrinkles taking up permanent residence at the sides of his brown eyes. His grey hair, always cropped short, was thinning to the point of mockery, offset by the thick, grey beard that adorned his strong jaw. Wearing a black jumper, jeans and boots, he’d tried to look inconspicuous, but he knew Sims’s men would have located him sooner or later. As he weaved through the corridor, a young couple exited one of the rooms, a baby strapped to the chest of the father. The parents eyed Marsden with suspicion, and he offered his most comforting smile.
Long Road Home: A pulse racing action thriller you won't want to put down. (Sam Pope Series Book 3) Page 10