by S L Beaumont
“Turn around,” he ordered.
I did as he asked.
There was movement as the security guard rose and launched himself at Colin. But Colin was ready and although I’d released the man’s wrists, his feet were still tied and his balance was off. Colin wrestled with the man for a moment before punching him hard in the face. The security guard fell backwards, catching the side of his head on the edge of Colin’s desk with a crack. I screamed as Colin raised his gun and brought the handle down hard on the back of the man’s head. He slumped to the floor unconscious.
I took the opportunity of Colin’s momentary distraction to escape. I pulled the door open and started running through the outer office. But Colin was too fast for me. He grabbed me around the waist with one arm, lifted me off the ground and carried me back into his office. I screamed again.
“Help me.”
Colin threw me on the floor in front of his desk beside the unconscious security guard and closed the door with his foot. He stood over me. “Oh, Jess. Why couldn’t you just stay being the little wife, playing at a career and having your little fling?” I must have looked shocked. “Oh come on,” he continued. “You didn’t think that I didn’t know all about Will and how you pined like a lovesick teenager when he hooked up with Frankie,” he laughed, bitterness lacing his words. “You and your bloody father couldn’t help snooping, could you? What did you find, eh? Nothing, I bet. At least you turning up here rids me of one problem.”
He turned and closed the wall safe, replacing a framed picture of a coastal island over it.
My mouth had gone dry and I struggled to speak. I wasn’t aware that I was crying until I felt the tears drip off my chin onto my neck, warm and wet. I glanced at the man beside me on the floor.
“Who is he?” I asked in a small voice.
“No idea, Jess, but he stuck his nose in where it wasn’t wanted.”
Colin approached me and pulled me to my feet. He had some thick twine in his hands which he wrapped around my wrists. I tried to pull away as my phone rang in the back pocket of my jeans.
“Ooh, let’s see who this is?” Colin said, reaching into my pocket and retrieving my phone. He held it up for both of us to see. Will was calling again.
“Still sniffing around,” Colin said with disgust. He dropped the phone and crushed the screen under his boot. The ringing stopped.
“Oops,” Colin said, laughing at the look of dismay on my face.
I gulped my tears and struggled harder.
“Don’t make me use the gun, Jess,” he murmured, his voice cold and devoid of emotion.
“Colin, what’s going on? What are you doing?”
He laughed; a short, nasty sound. “You will see, darling wife.”
He continued to wrap the rope around my wrists so that it cut into my skin and I whimpered. I was really scared. It was beginning to dawn on me that perhaps he intended to kill me.
“Colin, this isn’t you. What about all our plans, moving back to Scotland, having a family?”
He gave me a withering look as he opened his office door and peered into the corridor. “Were you thinking about those things when you were in his bed? I think not,” he said as his lip curled. “Let’s go.”
He pulled me down the staircase so fast that I stumbled, falling to my knees before he hauled me up and pushed me towards the van parked in the center of the warehouse. The side door was ajar and Colin slid it open the whole way. A dark-skinned man in blue overalls was working on a piece of equipment inside the van. He replaced a small screwdriver in his tool box and closed the lid.
“Ready, Colin,” he said in a thick Scottish accent as he climbed out.
“Get in,” Colin said lifting me. “Pete here is going to take you for a little drive.”
The piece of equipment looked like a bomb, wires wrapped around red cylinders, a timer and keypad, tubes. Pete reappeared in the doorway carrying a large cardboard box, which he slipped over the bomb. It now looked like any of the other boxes and packages stacked in the van. I screamed. Colin clamped a hand over my mouth, forcing my lips back into my teeth. I tasted blood. “For God’s sake, shut up, Jess.” He glared at me until I nodded. He released his hand.
“Colin. No. Let me go,” I cried. I tried to climb back out of the van, but to little avail. Colin gave me a large shove and I sprawled on the dirty floor of the vehicle, coming face to face with a row of clear plastic containers full of nails and screws. I scrabbled backwards away from the shrapnel.
Colin leaned into the van. “Bye, my love,” he said as he raised the gun and brought it down on the side of my head.
I slumped forward, blackness flowing across my vision. I could see Colin’s legs moving away from the van towards the stairs and back up to the offices. I struggled to stay conscious. Pete pulled the side door closed and I was encased in darkness. I could hear Pete’s footsteps walking around the van, followed by the opening and closing of the driver’s door. I forced myself upright and began tugging at the bonds on my wrists. I was so not ready to die.
A single gunshot echoed through the vast warehouse, followed by shouting. From the front of the van I heard Pete emit a muffled expletive and open his door again. The next shot sounded much closer. Who was shooting? I hoped it wasn’t one of Colin’s business rivals. I was in trouble either way, if that was the case.
I panicked. What would happen if someone shot the bomb? Would it go off? I started feeling my way along the inside of the van. The twine holding my wrists behind my back snagged on a rivet impeding any further movement. I pulled in frustration and felt the twine give.
I heard one of the forklifts start up. The muffled thud of bullets hitting wood and cardboard was intermingled with shouting voices. The van shook as Pete returned fire with what sounded like an automatic weapon. As panic threatened to overwhelm me, I pulled harder on the bonds around my wrists. A tearing noise sounded and I pulled one hand free. I pulled the twine off my other hand, rubbing the spot where it had cut into my wrist and felt along the side of the van for the door handle, as Pete gave a cry of pain and I heard the clatter of a gun falling onto the ground.
I located the latch and slid the door open a fraction. The noise of gunfire was deafening. I risked looking through the crack in the door to see what was going on. I could see several armed figures wearing dark combat fatigues creeping down the rows of stacked cartons, weapons drawn. From the left a forklift came out of nowhere and crashed into the first row, knocking it domino-like onto the next rows. There were shouts and cries as heavy boxes toppled onto the people edging further into the warehouse.
I moved so that I could see the top of the stairs. Several people were crouched clutching large black guns giving a continuous burst of fire onto the collapsed boxes. I gasped as I saw Kathleen come into my line of sight holding a weapon as though it was normal for her and begin firing towards the side of the building.
In my periphery I saw movement at the far end of the warehouse and more black-clad figures entered though a small door.
I started screaming. “Help me. There’s a bomb in the van.”
The firing ceased for moment and I jumped as a trail of bullets ran down the side of the van. Someone was trying to silence me. I crawled to the far side taking care not to bump the bomb. I tried to assess my rapidly diminishing options. If I left the van, I’d be shot, but if I stayed I’d be blown to pieces. The van shuddered as someone climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
I looked around for a weapon and in the pool of light provided by the open door I saw a square cover in the floor at the rear of the van. The spare tire well. I crawled over to it and pulled the plywood cover aside. A tire iron was nestled beside the spare tire. I gripped it in my hand and crawled back to the door, ready to move.
The van started moving forward. I leaned into the sliding door to keep my balance. At last I had a plan. As soon as we left the building I would jump out. A loud bang sounded, followed by another and the van shuddered to a stop and sunk down.
The smell of smoldering rubber filled my nostrils. More shooting erupted as I cringed inside the van.
The door of the van slid open at speed. I raised the tire iron and swung it at the person who peered inside.
“Bloody hell, Jess. It’s me,” Will said, ducking as my swing missed its target and instead clattered into the door.
I lost my grip on the tire iron and it fell to the ground with a loud clatter. I stared at him. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Before he could answer two uniformed and heavily armed police officers arrived at his side.
“Get her out. We’ll cover you,” the taller of the two ordered Will. Will clicked the safety on his semi-automatic weapon, swung it over his shoulder by its strap and helped me climb out of the van.
“Careful, Colin’s up on the mezzanine,” I cautioned as I stepped down holding on to his arms. I looked up the stairs in fear. “And, Will, there’s a bomb in here, under that box.” I leaned back into the van and lifted the cardboard cover off.
“Shit.” Will peered over my shoulder at the tangle of wires. “Come on, Jess, let’s get you out of here.” He signaled to a couple of other men.
“What about you?” I clung on to him, unsteady on my feet.
“I’ll be right behind you,” he said. “Now, one, two, three, go.” He gave me a little push as the two officers put down a trail of covering fire towards the mezzanine.
I started running towards the front entrance, my blood pumping with each step, waiting to feel the thud of a bullet in my back. Where did Will get that gun and why wasn’t he just coming with me? I heard further shouts and gunshots followed by footsteps pounding down after me. The trouble was I didn’t know if it was Will or Colin and I was too scared to look, so I just kept running. As I reached the large corrugated iron roller door at the canal side of the building, a loud boom echoed throughout the warehouse and everything began to shake. I cowered as cardboard boxes, lights and sheets of roofing iron began falling. The whole building felt like it was swaying and I covered my face just as the side and front windows exploded with the pressure.
“Will,” I screamed as darkness took me.
* * *
I dreamed that I was a child again playing hide and seek with Dad.
“Jessica?” he called. His voice sounded muffled, as though coming from a great distance.
“Dad?” I called and was racked by a bout of coughing as my lungs filled with dust.
“Jess,” another voice said. This time a little closer and with an English accent, not Scottish.
The coughing subsided and I tried again.
“Dad.” My voice came out husky and croaky.
“She’s in here,” the voice shouted.
I heard things being moved and forced my eyes open. I was in darkness, apart from a small chink of light in front of me.
“Jess,” the voice called again. Definitely not Dad with that accent.
“Hello?” I tried.
“Hang on, Jess, we’re coming.” The voice sounded strained, but relieved.
The chink of light became bigger and there were several voices now. I struggled to hold on to what they were saying.
“There you are.”
I opened my eyes. I was so tired. I just wanted to sleep. Yet someone kept talking to me. I wished that they’d shut up. I looked into a familiar face. Will. It all came flooding back. Colin. The explosion. A sudden pain tore through my chest.
“Colin?” I asked in a terrified whisper.
“It’s okay, Jess. He’s dead.”
I just nodded. I didn’t feel sad or relieved. In fact I didn’t feel anything. That couldn’t be right.
“Let’s get you out of there,” Will said, pulling more debris away. He crawled in towards me, reaching out and running his fingers across my cheek. “Hang in there, sweetheart,” he said before turning his head and calling with urgency, “I need a medic here, now.”
He turned back and held my flittering gaze. “Stay with me, Jess.”
I frowned at his concern and tried to crawl forward to him, but my right side wouldn’t obey. I glanced down and saw a huge gash in my upper arm and thigh. There was blood everywhere. I watched Will wide-eyed as he expertly tied a bandage around the wound in my arm to stem the blood flow, before I passed out.
Chapter 29
February 1
It was the smell that hit me first. Clean, sterile, disinfectant mixed with something floral. I forced my eyelids open and peered around the room. It was small, everything was white including the narrow bed that I was lying in. A cheap print of a cottage by the sea hung on an angle on the wall at the end of the bed, green and gold patterned curtains framed the only window. There were two doors. Both were closed.
“Ah you’re awake.” A smiling nurse with short highlighted blonde hair came across my vision, picking up my wrist and checking the watch hanging on the chain clipped to her pale blue scrubs. “Water?” she offered.
I nodded, still processing.
“There you are, love,” she said, stepping on a button on the floor which gently raised the head of my bed as she held a glass in front of me and angled the straw to my lips.
I took a small painful swallow. The cool liquid trickled over my parched throat. I took another sip and another.
“Where am I?” I whispered.
“The Royal London Hospital, love. You’re lucky to be alive. You’d lost a lot of blood when they pulled you out.”
“That’s enough now,” a male voice broke across the conversation. I glanced behind the nurse as two men entered the room. The nurse stiffened, leaned over me and pushed the call button on my headboard.
“She has only just now regained consciousness. You will have to wait until the doctor has seen her before you ask your questions. Now out.” She shooed the two men from the room.
I drifted in and out of consciousness as the doctor came and examined me. I was just so tired.
An indeterminate time later, I heard an argument erupt outside my door.
“She might know something,” an angry male voice said.
“I have to put my patient’s welfare first and she’s not up to questioning.”
“You could have a hell of a lot more patients if we don’t find out what their target was.”
A loud sigh and the door opened. “Ten minutes. No more.”
I opened my eyes as two men followed the white-coated doctor into the room. The nurse in the blue scrubs followed, concern etched into her face.
The two men introduced themselves as Agent Rob Stevens of MI5 and Detective Inspector Mark Rawlinson.
“How are you feeling, Mrs. McDonald?” Stevens asked.
“Not sure,” I replied with a whisper.
Stevens, a tall middle-aged man dressed in a smart suit and tie, stood at the end of the bed. His dark hair was cropped short and he had a small scar above his top lip. He adjusted his glasses. “We’re hoping that you’re up to talking to us.”
“I’ll try,” I said in a voice that came out as a scratchy whisper. The nurse rushed forward to offer me more water.
“I’ll do that. You may leave,” Detective Rawlinson said to her. She glanced at the doctor, who gave her a slight nod. With a disgruntled sigh, she left the room. Rawlinson was a stocky man of mixed race with small shrewd eyes. His head was shaved and he wore jeans and a casual jacket.
“You too,” Rawlinson said to the doctor as he handed me the water.
“Now it appears that your husband was part of a terrorist network,” Stevens began as the doctor left the room.
I choked on the water. “What? That can’t be. Why?”
“That’s what we’d like to find out. The explosion that destroyed the warehouse was only the tip of the iceberg. We’ve found a smaller warehouse close by owned by one of your husband’s companies that was stocked with enough C4 to flatten an entire city block.”
“God.” I gasped.
“Now, do you have any idea where the bomb in the van was headed
?” I shook my head. “Did he say anything to you before he put you in the van with it?” Rawlinson asked.
“It’s all a bit hazy,” I said, struggling to recall what Colin had said. “What about the security guard?”
The two men exchanged glances. “Security guard?”
“When I first went to the warehouse, Colin had a security guard tied up on the floor of his office. I was untying him when Colin came back in. They fought and Colin knocked him out.”
“We’re still sorting through the rubble, there are a few bodies that we have yet to identify,” Rawlinson said.
“Why were you there?” Stevens asked.
“I’m leaving for New York for work,” I began. “Well, I was supposed to be,” I added. “I was going to say goodbye and to tell him that I was leaving him.”
Stevens raised an eyebrow.
“Is he really dead?” I asked. Stevens nodded. “I feel relieved. Isn’t that awful?”
“No, Jess. He planned to kill a lot of people.”
“How did you get to the warehouse so quickly?”
“We’ve had an agent monitoring him for a number of months and he arrived shortly after you did.”
“How could I not have known?” I said. “I thought he was a dirty businessman. I’d been gathering information to that effect since my father died.” I broke off. “Do you think he killed Dad?” I asked in a whisper.
Rawlinson shrugged. “We’ll look into that,” he said.
The doctor stuck his head back around the door. “Time’s up, gentlemen.”
Rawlinson held up one finger. “Mrs. McDonald…”
“Jess, please,” I croaked.
“Jess, obviously we’ll need to talk to you some more, but for now we just wanted to see if you had any clues as to his target.”
I shook my head, bringing on a wave of nausea. “No.” I closed my eyes. “How could I have not known?”
“He fooled a lot of people. Fortunately, your suspicions in recent days focused our attention and may have saved hundreds of lives,” Stevens said, giving me a kind smile.
“But, I hadn’t gone to the police.” I was really beginning to flag. Nothing was making any sense. “How do you know that I wasn’t involved?” The men exchanged uncertain glances. Stevens nodded and Rawlinson went to the door and spoke to someone. “Will,” I said, my memory of what happened before the explosion, coming back in flashes and my subconscious joining the dots. “He was there. Can I see him?”