Ruthless

by Chris Ryan

Impact

  The cadets kept to the shadows.

  They moved with the stealth of a military unit. Lukas and Sami took the lead. They advanced with their assault rifles engaged, panning the area ahead. Abby, Lili and Tommy followed. Abby guided Tommy, one hand on his forearm. Lili held her weapon loosely across her chest. Max took up the rear. Every ten paces he stopped, his weapon raised, and looked behind him for threats.

  The roads were completely deserted. People must be sheltering from the firefight, Max thought. The buildings were shocking, the smell of waste intense. They moved unnoticed to the end of a shabby, empty alleyway and stopped where the alley met a wider street.

  ‘I think we need to follow that road then hang a right,’ Tommy said.

  Lukas scowled as he looked around the corner and examined the road. ‘It’s too busy,’ he said. ‘If we walk down there carrying automatic weapons, we’ll stick out a mile.’

  ‘He’s right,’ Abby said. ‘We’ll have to ditch the weapons.’

  ‘But we might need them,’ Lili said. ‘Why don’t we disassemble them and stow them in our rucksacks?’

  It was a good idea. The cadets took cover behind a pile of bin bags. Abby kept watch while the others crouched down, removed the magazines from their weapons, took their rifles apart and packed them in their rucksacks.

  Max was getting to his feet when he heard shouting. He recognised the shrill voice. ‘Guzman!’ There was the unmistakable sound of Guzman’s Uzi as the gang leader fired two short bursts. Shouts of alarm filled the air, and people ran down the road where the cadets were hiding behind the bin bags. Above it all they could hear Guzman’s insane shouting – and it was getting closer.

  ‘We need to hide,’ Max said.

  ‘Where?’ Lukas said.

  Sami pointed across the road towards a side street that was overgrown with dense vegetation. ‘There,’ he said.

  Lukas frowned. ‘Are you joking? Have you seen how many sewage pipes run into it?’

  ‘He’s right,’ Lili said. ‘The best place to hide is somewhere nobody wants to go. Quick – we need to run!’

  As if to highlight the urgency, there was another burst of Uzi fire – much closer this time. The cadets hauled their rucksacks over their shoulders and sprinted. The road was chaos. Kids were running away from the sound of the gunfire, but that worked to the cadets’ advantage, because they were just five more people in a panicking crowd and they went unnoticed. Lili led them at a breathless pace, at right angles to the flow of the crowd. As they approached the side street, the stench became almost unbearable. But she was right. The stinking vegetation was their best chance of staying hidden.

  The cadets plunged into the greenery. It grew up to Max’s waist and was marshy underfoot. As they disturbed the undergrowth, swarms of insects flew up around them. They buzzed and whined in Max’s face and eyes, and he felt them biting. He could also hear Guzman’s voice, almost as high-pitched as the insects.

  Lili shouted, ‘Dive!’

  He dived.

  The foliage was soft and wet. Max landed on his front, facing away from the street. Abby was next to him. They wriggled around in an attempt to see back out. The movement released a putrid stench from underneath them. Max gagged and tried not to think about the filth in which he was lying.

  ‘Hey, Max,’ Abby whispered. ‘As first dates go, I’d say this was a bit of a stinker.’

  ‘Abby, there’s something I need to say …’

  ‘I know, I know,’ Abby replied. ‘I know we can never be a thing. Hector would never allow it.’

  ‘We’ve got to do the right thing, Abby. We’ve got to think about the group, not just us.’

  ‘I get it,’ Abby said. She hesitated. ‘I enjoyed that kiss though.’

  Max was about to say, ‘Me too.’ But he didn’t, because suddenly Guzman was there.

  He was standing at the entrance to the side road. Max could just see him through the thick vegetation. The moonlight reflected in his wild eyes and glinted off his chunky gold necklace. He held his Uzi loosely by his side as he peered down the side street, scanning the foliage. Behind him were five or six Blue Command gang members. They were glancing at each other, perhaps worried that Guzman would send them into the foul-smelling foliage to search for the cadets. Max thought about getting his weapon from his rucksack and reassembling it. He didn’t want to hit any of the gang members or even Guzman. But maybe, if it came to it, he could lay down some suppressive fire …

  ‘Nothing to see here,’ Abby whispered. ‘Just me and Max having a nice little chat. Move along now …’

  Guzman raised his weapon. Max froze. He realised Guzman was about to spray a burst in their direction. ‘Get down!’ he whispered, and pressed himself into the ground, his face making contact with the foetid mud. The sound of the Uzi rang out: the harsh coughing of three separate bursts. Max fully expected to be hit. But then there was movement next to him. Abby squirmed in close and wrapped her arms around his head, to protect it.

  He heard, rather than saw, ricocheting off the walls on either side. Then he felt Abby judder. She hissed in pain. With a cold, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Max realised she’d been hit, probably by a ricochet. It took every ounce of his willpower not to move. Guzman was shouting again, but his voice was receding. When, thirty seconds later, Max dared to look, Guzman was no longer there. Nor were his guys. They’d moved on.

  He turned to Abby, who was shivering badly, her face white with shock. She was holding her right upper arm and blood was seeping through her fingertips. She gave Max a weak smile. ‘Better my arm,’ she said in a small, shaky voice, ‘than your head.’

  Max swore. There was a bloodied bullet on the ground. He knelt next to Abby. He rifled through his rucksack and grabbed his med pack, then opened it and pulled out a bandage. Gently, he moved Abby’s hand and tore into her long-sleeved cream top to reveal the wound. It was bleeding profusely, but the blood flowed slowly and was a deep, sludgy colour, not a bright, fast-flowing red. ‘It’s not an arterial bleed,’ he said. ‘I think the bullet just grazed you. The ricochet must have slowed its speed. We were lucky.’

  His fingers were covered in her blood, which smeared over her clothes as he helped her slide her wounded arm out of the sleeve. She winced, but didn’t cry out – even when Max put pressure on the wound to stop it bleeding. The others were standing around them now, their faces creased with anxiety.

  ‘Is … is she going to be okay?’ Tommy said.

  ‘Ah, sure,’ Abby managed to whisper. ‘What’s a bullet wound between friends?’

  Nobody laughed. Max grabbed the bandage and wrapped it tightly around the wound. Abby’s eyes bulged with pain, but she didn’t complain. All she said was, ‘We need to get to that warehouse.’

  ‘Forget it,’ Max said. He looked up at Tommy. ‘I’m sorry, mate,’ he said. ‘Abby needs proper medical care. We need to get her out of the favela.’

  ‘Sure. I underst—’

  Abby pushed herself up with her good arm. ‘What the hell are you talking about, Max?’ she said. Her usual fire had returned, for now at least.

  ‘You’re hurt,’ Max said. ‘We need to –’

  ‘You think, just because I kissed you, you have to act the knight in shining armour?’

  ‘Abby, you’ve been shot.’

  ‘You said it yourself – it’s just a graze.’

  ‘I only said that because …’ Max stopped and looked at the others. ‘Back me up here, guys,’ he said.

  ‘Can you walk?’ Lili asked. She held out an arm and helped Abby to her feet.

  ‘I feel like I’ve been lying in a toilet. Disgusting,’ Abby said. She looked very shaky as she turned to Max. ‘Seriously,’ she said, ‘I’m fine. Let’s get going.’

  ‘This is insane,’ Max muttered. But he knew there was no point arguing with her, and it looked as if the others were on her side. He nodded curtly and looked back down the side street. Abby gave him a thin smile. He could tell she was
in more pain than she was letting on. But her expression was determined.

  ‘Okay. Let’s go,’ he said.

  15

  Pepe’s Penalty

  Angel and Woody moved quickly, in absolute silence. There was a door at the end of the corridor where the holding cells were located. It was unguarded – at least, it was now they’d overcome the guard. Angel held the weapons he’d confiscated in both hands, scanning the area ahead as they advanced. Woody held the toilet chain loosely in his right hand, ready to use it if he needed to.

  They reached a staircase and moved stealthily up it. On the ground floor they came to a set of double doors. There was a small glass panel in each one, through which they could see two BOPE officers. Woody and Angel stood on either side of the doors, their backs to the wall. Woody tapped gently on the door. One of the BOPE officers turned, opened it and stepped through. He looked at Angel in surprise.

  She winked at him.

  The guard never knew what hit him.

  Angel pivoted on her left foot, raised her right leg and kicked the guard hard in the stomach. He doubled over in pain and she cracked the butt of her pistol down on the back of his skull. He was lying in a heap on the floor by the time the second guard knew that anything was wrong. He burst through the double doors at the same time that Woody whipped the toilet chain. It curled around the guard’s neck. Woody tugged the guard towards him and elbowed him in the face. The guard’s eyes rolled, and he collapsed to the floor next to his mate.

  By now Angel was through, her weapon engaged. They were in the main entrance to the building. There was nobody in here – the two guards they had put down had obviously been the only security here – but they could see the shadows of more personnel through the frosted-glass entrance doors fifteen metres from their position. Angel counted four guys. They showed no sign that they knew Angel and Woody were escaping.

  Angel looked up. There were two panel lights in the ceiling – the only light sources in the room. She pointed her weapon at one light, then nodded at Woody. He moved to the main entrance and stood to its right. ‘Go!’ he whispered.

  Angel discharged a round from her handgun into each of the panel lights. There was a brief shower of sparks from each light, then the room went dark. The shadows on the other side of the frosted glass turned. One of the guards shouted. The door opened and two of them ran in. Bad move. With the aid of the toilet chain, Woody had them on the ground, unconscious, in under five seconds. If the remaining two had been smarter, they would have moved away. But they weren’t, and they didn’t. They presented themselves at the main entrance side by side. Angel put one of the guards down with an elbow in the face. Woody worked his magic with the toilet chain on the other.

  Now there were four unconscious guards on the floor and no sign of any more. Angel could hear traffic. She covered the exit with her handgun while Woody stole a further pistol and two MP5 submachine guns from the guards he’d just put down. He handed one of the MP5s to Angel, and they prepared to burst out of the building.

  Their mistake was not looking back. With all their focus on escaping the BOPE’s headquarters, they didn’t realise that one of the guards had regained consciousness. He shouted at them, and out of the corner of her eye Angel saw he was pointing his weapon at them.

  If they hadn’t thrown themselves through the doorway, Angel would have been dead. The guard’s bullet landed where her head had just been. But she and Woody hurled themselves forward just in time. They rolled down the stone steps in front of the building. Angel’s cheek slammed against one of the steps, sending a shriek of pain through her head and down her spine. The world spun. By the time it was still again, she and Woody were at the base of the steps, looking up. The guard was there. His weapon was engaged. He was pointing it at them.

  There was no time for either of them to raise their own weapons. They were disorientated and at a disadvantage.

  A fatal disadvantage.

  Angel felt ice in her stomach. She knew the end was about to come.

  Pepe watched it all happen, open-mouthed.

  He had crossed the busy road and was now standing opposite the entrance to the BOPE’s headquarters, next to a black SUV whose engine was still warm. He was bouncing his football, but really he was only half aware of it. He was transfixed by the sight of the two British people who had tumbled down the stone steps, and by the BOPE guard standing over them, his weapon raised.

  Pepe had lived in the favela long enough to know how this story would end.

  It was all his fault. If he hadn’t gone to the gang members, none of this would have happened. Hadn’t they warned him often enough? Hadn’t his mum and dad warned him for as long as he could remember?

  You end up paying the penalty.

  The BOPE guy moved his weapon from the woman to the man, then back to the woman again.

  Pepe blinked, then looked at the football in his hands.

  The penalty.

  Suddenly he knew what he had to do.

  It was instinctive. He had done it often enough in the streets of the favela after all.

  He dropped the football, let it bounce once, then kicked it.

  For a moment, Pepe thought he had put too much curve on the ball. But he hadn’t. It curled towards the BOPE guy. Pepe heard the leathery thud as it slammed into the side of his face. He was just in time. The ball knocked the police officer sideways as he fired his weapon. The bullet missed the woman by a hand’s breadth. Pepe saw it spark on the ground then ricochet away. He allowed himself a smile, but the smile soon faded when he saw the police officer, startled and angry, turn and point his weapon at Pepe.

  And that was his big mistake.

  The British couple pushed themselves up and flew at the BOPE officer, tackling him to the ground. He fired again. This time he hit the windscreen of the SUV next to Pepe. It shattered, but by now the BOPE officer was on his back. The man kicked him in the ribs while the woman removed his weapon.

  More BOPE officers arrived. Three, four, five, spewing from the building, shouting. Pepe watched in horror as the man and the woman raised their weapons towards them.

  Were they really going to shoot all those police officers? Didn’t they know what would happen to them if they did?

  They fired towards the police building. The bullets fell above the BOPE, and on the steps in front of them. None of them hit the police officers, but the attack was enough to force them all to the ground, crouching in defensive positions. The man and woman stepped backwards as they fired. In a few seconds, they were alongside Pepe.

  His football rolled back to him. He picked it up, then the woman grabbed him. The man continued to fire warning shots at the BOPE. Pepe and the woman were almost at the main road. The woman stepped out onto it, weapon engaged. A white Range Rover screeched to a halt. She pulled open the driver’s door and ripped the driver from his position behind the wheel. He staggered to the pavement as other cars beeped or swerved around the Range Rover. The British man was still firing as the woman bundled Pepe into the back of the car then shouted an instruction at her partner. He lowered his weapon and, as the woman took the wheel, ran across the road and dived into the passenger seat.

  The Range Rover’s wheels spun with a high-pitched squeal as the vehicle accelerated. Timidly, Pepe peered through the side window. The BOPE were getting back to their feet.

  Then they were out of sight, and the Range Rover was speeding down the road. For a blissful moment, Pepe thought the English couple were driving him to safety. But the woman swung the vehicle sharply to the left, off the main road and back towards the favela.

  A mobile phone was in a magnetic holder on the dashboard. It was unlocked. The man grabbed it and dialled a number.

  ‘Hector?’ he roared into the handset. ‘It’s Woody. We’ve got a problem. Get the chopper ready. We’re going in!’

  16

  Snakes and Ladders

  The hardest part of staying incognito was hiding Abby’s wound. It was obviously wo
rse than she was letting on. Anybody who looked closely at her would see she was struggling. Her face was pale and sweating, her gait uncertain, as though she was dizzy. Occasionally her eyes rolled.

  Nobody did look closely, however. Guzman’s gunfire seemed to have scared the young people in the streets, even though they almost all wore Blue Command bandanas. Children scurried into doorways and down alleys. Older youths ran in all directions. Only the beggars stayed where they were.

  So the cadets, still shouldering their heavy rucksacks, and Tommy were able to move unnoticed. Even so, they kept to the shadows as they turned into the main street and headed along it. They passed buildings so dilapidated that Max found himself wondering if they really housed humans. The stench of sewage was all-pervading now, although he realised that he could be smelling himself and the other cadets. They were truly filthy.

  They turned right. This was the road Tommy had said they needed to follow to find his girlfriend. At the end was the largest building they had seen in the favela. It looked like a flat-roofed barn, with walls made of huge sheets of corrugated iron. The cadets were looking at it end-on, so they couldn’t see how long it was. Vast double doors faced them, and five armed Blue Command personnel guarded it. Even from a distance, Max could tell they were on high alert. They were like wolves prowling around their territory, panning the area with their weapons. Were they expecting an attack? Or had they heard that Guzman was on the rampage, and were worried about what would happen if they weren’t seen to be doing their job properly?

  Distant gunfire. The cadets pressed themselves against a wall while the Blue Command guys pointed their weapons down the street.

  ‘Is this the place?’ Lukas said quietly.

  ‘I think it must be,’ Lili said. ‘Look.’ She pointed up at the flat roof of the building. Silhouetted against the night sky, huge bundles of cables threaded in through the roof from all directions. They looked almost snake-like. There was also, just visible, the upper curve of a satellite dish.

  ‘That’s communications gear,’ Sami said. ‘Tommy’s right. This must be where Blue Command broadcast their pirated TV channels from.’