Joe Hawke Series Boxsets 4

by Rob Jones

  After some confusion about where to go, they met with the MI6 agent who used his diplomatic status to expedite them through the customs process. He gave them the names of the SDU men and told them they would meet them at the Jockey Club. Then he casually slid his Panama hat back on and vanished into the crowd.

  They stepped outside back into the humidity. Eden’s recent fight with a coma hadn’t dulled his senses or affected his planning skills, and an Escalade was waiting for them outside the airport exactly as he had described.

  They climbed inside and before they had even buckled their belts the driver was whisking them along the north coast of Lantau Island. Endless high-rises flashed past them, the view of the apartments obscured by laundry drying on poles hanging out of the windows. Neon signs blinked in the haze, their Chinese symbols making unknown promises to the Westerners as they moved through the bustling metropolis.

  As they crossed the Tsing Ma Bridge on their way east into the New Territories, Hawke took in the breathtaking view of the ships out on the water. He lowered the window and felt a rush of hot, humid air on his face. Yachts and container ships fought for space out in Victoria Harbor as they swept south along Route 3. He saw the luxury high-rises of Tai Kok Tsui tower over them and then they slipped into the Western Harbor Crossing tunnel.

  They emerged on Hong Kong Island and the driver weaved them east again through the dense traffic until turning south on Route 1. Glimpses of the city’s underworld flashed by, offering a tantalizing view of the metropolis’s exotic underbelly teeming with life in the hot night.

  Hawke saw the escorts hanging off the arms of overweight businessmen and the triad gangsters busy with their extortion rackets and their trafficking. He’d seen it all before, but it never failed to turn his stomach. He was woken from his thoughts by the sensation of the car slowing down. He looked up to see the driver pulling up in the taxi rank of the racecourse. He killed the engine and turned to face them, propping his elbow on the top of the leather seat for support.

  “This is your stop.”

  They checked their weapons, climbed out of the Escalade and scanned the building’s exterior for any sign of trouble. None of Hawke’s many trips to this part of the city had ever brought him to the Jockey Club, but everything he’d ever been told about it made the place almost recognizable.

  Happy Valley was one of the greatest racecourses in the world. Planted in swampland at the north of the island back in 1845, it rapidly grew into one of the most famous horse-racing tracks in Asia and later anywhere on earth. Today the course is surrounded by towering apartment blocks and the lush, steamy slopes of Mount Cameron to the south.

  Safely inside the grounds, Hawke realized for the first time just what a task lay ahead of him and the rest of the team. The place was an enormous, sprawling venue stretching out ahead of him in all directions.

  Hemmed in by dozens of towering skyscrapers, it felt like they were ants in a bowl, and the added pressure of the intense humidity only made things harder. With sweat pouring down his back, they met up with Officer Eddie Cheung and his SDU men, made brief introductions and then Hawke ordered his team to break into sub-units and make their way to the agreed positions.

  Spectators holding cocktails or pitchers of cold lager bumped into each other as they jostled for the best views of the track. The horses and their riders were coming into view now, and preparing to start another race around the course. Excitement rippled through the growing crowd of people, many of them anxiously gripping betting stubs in their hands as they stared up at the screens and made their wishes.

  From the position he had taken up, Hawke surveyed the seven-storey stands running along the western edge of the track. Capable of taking well over fifty-thousand people, these stands gave the perfect view of not only the course, but also an inner field containing several hockey and football pitches as well a rugby field. Running along the tops of the stands were numerous arc lights blazing down on the course.

  “Anyone see him yet?” Hawke asked.

  Scarlet was the first to speak. “Not from where I am.”

  “Nor me,” Devlin said. “But I’ve been watching a very beautiful woman over in the bar on the Pavilion Stand so he might have slipped by me.”

  “Stop being a tit, Danny.”

  “Sorry, Cairo. You know me.”

  “Unfortunately that’s true.”

  “What about you, Reap?” Hawke said.

  “Not yet.”

  Hawke called Eddie Cheung over the comms. “Eddie?”

  “We think we have something, Hawke – a potential sighting in the Grandstand. I’m just getting verification now via facial recognition software.”

  Hawke kept his eyes peeled. “Stand by everyone.”

  Eddie’s voice crackled over the comms. “It’s him, Hawke! I repeat, we have conformation via the facial rec system. Rat is at the rear of the Grandstand, wearing a black denim jacket and a white t-shirt.”

  “I have him!” Reaper said.

  Scarlet said, “Me too.”

  “Okay everyone,” Hawke said. “Close in on him, and keep it subtle.”

  With the crowd hysteria reaching a peak, Hawke moved down through the stands with the men from the SDU close behind him. He reached the bottom of the stands and made his way toward the exit. The roar of the crowds boomed all around them as people cheered their racehorses on and willed them to finish ahead of the rest of the string.

  He weaved through the crowd of spectators, keeping his weapon out of sight in the holster. The last thing he wanted now was a mass rush for the exits as people fled what they believed to be a terror attack.

  He turned into the bottom access aisle of the Grandstand and started to walk up the steps to the top. He and Scarlet looped arms and tried to look like a couple as they meandered closer to the Zodiac agent. Only the closest inspection would reveal the earpieces they wore, and the guns beneath their jackets were imperceptible to all but the most skilled observer from the world of law enforcement and espionage.

  Hawke let go of Scarlet’s hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

  “I love it when you take charge,” she said with a wink. “Who says we couldn’t have made it?”

  “Pack it in, Cairo.”

  “We’re almost there,” Reaper said over the comms. He and Devlin were on the other end of the Grandstand now. The SDU agents attached to them were a few paces behind.

  “He’s on to us!” Reaper said. “I repeat, he knows we’re here.”

  “Dammit!” said Hawke. “He must have recognized one of the SDU men in the crowd.”

  “He’s on the move!”

  “Everyone get after him!”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Hawke burst into action, using his formidable upper-body strength to slam spectators aside as he pushed through them in pursuit of Rat. Some objected, but they settled back down again when his jacket flapped back to reveal the flash of the Glock’s grip in his shoulder holster.

  The young Chinese assassin spun around and fired on him, the bullets cracking above the sound of the cheering crowd.

  “Get down!” Hawke yelled.

  Only the gaggle of people around him heard the command. They hit the deck with their drinks and betting stubs still in their hands, no time even to scream. Hawke dived down and hurled himself in a forward roll. When he exited the roll he was gripping the gun and squinting as he aimed at Rat. He moved to fire on the man and stopped himself, cursing. Too risky, you idiot.

  He pounded along the top row of the Grandstand after the assassin, grimly aware he was chasing a man several years younger but up for the challenge nonetheless. Either side of him the SDU men were drawing their weapons and barking commands into their palm mics as they closed in on their mark.

  Rat fired again. The bullet traced over Reaper’s head as he slammed into the ground. The bullet missed, but far behind him he heard a horse grunt in pain and turned to see one of the animals in the race collapse into the turf. The jockey was cr
ushed under its weight and a sense of confusion in the crowd started to morph into fear as they realized the horse had been shot.

  Hawke knew things were about to get badly out of control. Of all the situations he tried to avoid, pursuing someone in a crowded public space offered the most opportunities for innocent bloodshed and carnage. Now the racecourse authorities were using the tannoys to calmly instruct everyone in the venue to move slowly to the exits.

  Great, it just got much harder to take Rat down, he thought. “We need to move quicker,” he said into the comms. “He’s heading across to the pavilion stand, Danny. You’re closest.”

  “Ah, for fuck’s sake, Hawke. I just got myself a beer!”

  “Stop pissing about, Danny,” Scarlet said.

  “I’m on him already,” Devlin said, his voice suddenly businesslike. “Bastard’s slowed down to a walk to blend in, but I know a rat when I see one.”

  Up ahead, Hawke saw some officers in the regular Hong Kong Police Force swarming around one of the entrances. “Looks like we have some back-up.”

  Devlin’s voice crackled over the comms. “He’s walking past the Pavilion Stand and continuing north. He’s either heading toward the Racing Museum or the Jockey Club HQ, or maybe… no wait. He’s turning left. All units, the mark’s heading toward the exit at the northwest section of the course, just past the Happy Valley Stand.”

  “I have him,” Scarlet said.

  “Moi aussi,” Reaper said. “I see him now. He’s very calm.”

  “He just walked through the line of punters at one of the betting windows.”

  They made it to the betting hall and pushed through the long lines of gamblers who were still trying to make a wager.

  “Over there!” Scarlet said. “I see him.”

  Hawke saw him too. He was heading for a fire escape in the far wall of the betting hall, and looking pretty shifty as he did it. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the ECHO team and decided to make a break for it. Bursting into a run, he kicked open the fire door with his boot and vanished into the darkness beyond it.

  “He’s doing another runner!” Hawke yelled. “Get after him!”

  They sprinted through the shifting crowd, pushing their way through until they reached the fire escape. With Devlin right behind him, Hawke kicked open the door. Finding himself in a corridor lit by emergency lighting, he lifted his gun into the aim and made his way toward the only other place Rat could have run – a set of concrete steps leading down to what he presumed was an underground car park.

  They reached the top of the steps and Eddie Cheung and the SDU men filed down first. Seconds later, they came under heavy fire. Rat had ambushed them and was blasting them with his handgun. He was deadly accurate, instantly killing the SDU attachment who had been in the lead.

  Hawke and the others slammed into the cover of the stairwell doorway and prepared to fire back. He and Scarlet were one side and Reaper and Devlin on the other, each of them holding their guns up to their chests ready to attack.

  Hawke indicated with two fingers that he and Scarlet would go in and the others were to provide cover fire. When he gave a curt, shallow nod to everyone, they all knew it was the sign to go. He and Scarlet spun around and opened fire in the doorway. It was a relentless and ruthless attack, and by the time Reaper and Devlin moved in to provide the support fire, Rat was hit, struck in the shoulder and spun around like a top.

  The Zodiac agent stumbled over at the top of the steps and crashed all the way down to the bottom. The concrete steps were unforgiving, and on the way down he broke his left wrist and sustained a concussion. Lying in a heap at the base of the stairs, he tried to lift himself up but quickly gave in, howling in pain as he applied pressure to his wrist to lever himself up. He collapsed back down onto the floor and clamped his eyes shut as he gave a silent prayer.

  Scarlet was first to reach him. When she saw the state he was in, she stuffed the gun inside her holster and pushed the toe of her boot down on his throat.

  “Well look at that,” she said. “Looks like we caught a rat.”

  Hawke walked over to her and also holstered his weapon. Upstairs at the ground level the crowd was growing restless as the race drew to a premature conclusion and the authorities continues to order them out of the grounds. Excited voices garbled over the tannoy system and another confused roar filled the grounds, but down here a very different atmosphere was unfolding.

  The Englishman leaned over, twisted a fistful of the man’s collar in his fist and dragged him up to his feet. “You’re coming with us, sunshine.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “I have a good friend I think you should meet.”

  Hawke pulled his fist back and then piled it into the man’s face, instantly knocking him unconscious.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A lithe, tall woman in her late twenties was waiting for them in the basement of the safehouse. “Sam, meet the team,” said Hawke. As he spoke, Reaper and Devlin bundled Rat over into a chair in the corner of the room and started tying the struggling, hooded man to it. “This one’s Vincent, but we call him Reaper, and that’s Danny Devlin. The scowling woman with the cigarette hanging off her lip is…”

  “Cairo Sloane,” the young woman said.

  Scarlet raised an eyebrow. “My reputation precedes me.”

  “Something like that.”

  Scarlet looked her up and down, ignoring Rat’s squeals and grunts as he struggled to free himself from Reaper’s vice-like grip. Devlin calmly continued to tape him into the chair. “And who might you be?”

  Hawke answered. “This is Samantha Dearlove.”

  Scarlet lit the cigarette and shook her hand. “Delighted, I’m sure.”

  Devlin finished taping Rat’s legs to the chair, checked he was secure and stood up to his full height. Reaper tore the bag from the man’s head and tossed it on the floor.

  “We get anything for returning this scrote back to its rightful owners?” Scarlet said.

  Dearlove shook her head. “He’s part of the Zodiacs. Officially they don’t even exist and if any of them get caught the Chinese Government just cut them loose. So he’s worthless as far as any sort of trade goes, if that’s what you had in mind?”

  Scarlet shrugged. “He’s worth something to us, darling. He snatched one of our team and he’s our only lead. Without him we have no chance of getting her back.”

  Dearlove was strictly by-the-book and already she was starting to regard the ECHO team with increasing anxiety. “Let me speak with him first.”

  Scarlet sighed and looked at her watch. “If you must, but remember we’re up against the clock here.”

  Dearlove stared them down. “On my own, please.”

  The others gave Hawke a glance. He shrugged and turned to the MI6 agent. “You have five minutes.”

  They waited outside as Dearlove used all her training on the captive, but when she appeared at the door it was obvious she had failed to extract anything from the assassin. “It’s as we thought,” she said dolefully. “He’s clammed up.”

  “My turn,” Hawke said.

  Dearlove gave a nervous sigh. “We don’t want an international incident on our hands.”

  “Leave it to me,” Hawke said with a cocky wobble of his head.

  “Not too rough, Hawke. I mean it,” Dearlove said anxiously. “Don’t forget he’s the property of the Chinese Ministry of State Security and sooner or later they’re going to get wind of this.”

  “C’mon, you know me,” Hawke said. “I’m the poster child of restraint.”

  Scarlet laughed and nearly spat out her cigarette.

  “All the same, this isn’t the movies, Hawke,” said Dearlove haughtily. “Do try and control yourself.”

  Hawke walked back across the basement. Rat wasn’t even breaking a sweat as he turned a confident smile on him. The prisoner even managed a smug nod of the head.

  “How you doing, Ratty?” He picked up a lug wrench and held it casually in his
hands, testing its weight and balance.

  “If you think you can beat the information out of me, you are sadly deluded. There is nothing you can do to me that is worse than what the Ministry will do to me if I speak.”

  “We’ll see about that.” With the forehand swing of a Wimbledon champion, he brought the head of the lug wrench crashing down on his leg and smashed his right kneecap to pieces.

  Rat screamed and struggled to escape his bonds, but Devlin had stuck him down too tight. His screams turned hoarse but the Zodiac man clamped his jaw down, gritting his teeth hard to restrain himself.

  “That’s going to take a good surgeon to fix up, mate,” Hawke said.

  “Screw you!”

  “Careful, lad. You’ve only got one other kneecap.”

  The man grunted and writhed, fighting the urge to lose his temper and insult Hawke. He was a prisoner now and there were protocols to follow, but it didn’t look like these guys were too bothered about protocols.

  “My turn,” Scarlet said, sliding another lug wrench off the top of a toolbox on the floor beside the bound prisoner. “I’m not going to lie to you, Rat. This is going to hurt you more than it’s going to hurt me.”

  She took the lug wrench and aimed between the man’s legs. He fought to bring them together and protect himself but each leg was taped securely to its own chair leg. It was impossible to close the gap, and it was clear that he sensed his terrible vulnerability.

  Scarlet swung the wrench and brought the end of it crashing down on the tiny patch of seat that was visible between Rat’s legs. The weight of the steel combined with the accuracy and power of Scarlet’s swing to smash a fist-sized chunk of the wooden seat to pieces.

  Rat squeezed his eyes shut and screamed.

  “Next stop is your nuts, Rat Man,” she said coolly, and brought the wrench back over her head for the next attack.