Desperate Ground

by L J Morris

  Quinn stood up, knocking over her chair. ‘Fuck you.’

  Sinclair righted the chair and guided her friend back on it. ‘He’s just trying to wind you up, Jo, don’t give him the satisfaction.’

  Bazarov smiled. ‘I think our relationship has taken a turn for the worst, Mrs Quinn.’

  ‘We don’t have a relationship, you’re a bottom feeder. You just use people to get what you want.’

  ‘Doesn’t everyone? You use the people who work for you to make the money that pays for all of your lovely things.’ He waved his arm in the direction of the various works of art that hung from the walls.

  Quinn stared into her mug, watching the steam rise. ‘At least I don’t kidnap their kids.’

  Bazarov looked at Sinclair. ‘I think your friend needs cheering up.’

  ‘She’d be fine if you gave her the kids back and walked away.’

  Bazarov shook his head. ‘That’s not going to happen. Now, we’ve got a busy day today. If I were you, I would get cleaned up and get your things together.’ He turned and walked towards the door. ‘Watch them, Sergei.’

  Bazarov left them in the house and walked over to the barn. His men were busy loading equipment into the vehicles, preparing to pull out. They’d been here long enough. It was time to put this operation in motion. He spent a few moments checking on them before walking through to the back of the building.

  McGill was in the corner of the workshop, handcuffed to a rack of shelves. He’d checked during the night for anything he might be able to use to break out but had found nothing. He’d slept a little but had now been awake for hours, trying to ignore his screaming bladder.

  Bazarov opened the door to the workshop and walked in. ‘Good morning, Mr McGill. I hope you slept well?’

  McGill stood up and looked at him with the eye that wasn’t swollen. ‘What do you think?’

  Bazarov turned to one of his men. ‘Un-cuff him, let him clean up, and feed him enough to keep him alive. We can’t have our bargaining chip dying on us.’

  ‘You’re all heart. Don’t put yourself out on my account.’

  ‘I don’t really need you, Mr McGill. I’m sure I could force Sinclair to do what I want without you. It’s just easier to have you as leverage. Make no mistake, if I decide you are of no use, I will cut you up and scatter the pieces in the desert.’

  The guard snorted a short laugh and looked at McGill with disdain. McGill’s headbutt split the Russian’s face and left him trying to staunch the blood that spurted from his nose. ‘Keep that prick away from me.’

  Bazarov glared at his pitiful-looking man and shook his head. ‘Go and clean yourself up. You should join me, Mr McGill. I pay well and I could use a man like you.’

  ‘Not even if my life depended on it.’

  ‘What if Sinclair’s life depended on it?’

  ‘If you ever hurt her I’ll do things to you your worst nightmares haven’t even begun to conjure up.’ He held up his cuffed hand. ‘You gonna let me clean up, or what?’

  A hint of a smile crossed Bazarov’s face. ‘I like you, Mr McGill. You get straight to the point.’ He threw the handcuff key on the floor at McGill’s feet.

  The guard with the broken nose came back to the workshop. He now had tissue wadded up inside each nostril. Bazarov gestured to him. ‘Watch McGill and get that key back. This time, stay out of his reach.’

  Quinn and Sinclair walked up the stairs towards the bedroom with Sergei following a few paces behind. Sinclair whispered, ‘We have to distract this guy somehow. I’ve got something hidden in my room that I need to get without him knowing.’

  They reached the room and Sinclair went in. Quinn closed the door and stood outside with her arms folded. ‘You can stay out here. She can’t go anywhere.’

  Sergei reached for the door handle and tried to push his way past. Quinn pushed him back. ‘Did you hear me? I said, you stay out here.’

  Sergei stepped back. ‘Okay. You leave the door open.’

  Quinn turned and went into the room, leaving the door ajar so Sergei could see inside. The sound of running water was coming from the shower and steam escaped into the room. Sergei stood opposite the door, watching, while Quinn sat on the bed.

  The sound of water stopped, and after a few minutes Sinclair came out of the bathroom. She was dressed in fresh clothes and was towelling her hair dry. ‘There, that’s better.’ She threw the towel onto the bed and pulled on a zip-up hoodie. She adjusted the hem and made sure it covered the bulge of the Glock that now sat, tucked into her waistband, in the small of her back. ‘Right, I’m ready. Let’s find out what Viktor wants.’

  They walked down the staircase and out into the courtyard. Bazarov was sitting on the edge of the fountain, his hand dangling in the cool water. ‘Ladies.’ He lifted his hand and splashed water on his face and neck. ‘They give you any trouble, Sergei?’

  Sergei was, as usual, following on behind them. ‘No Viktor. No trouble.’

  ‘Good, good. I wish I could say the same for your friend McGill.’

  ‘What have you done to him?’

  ‘Relax, Miss Sinclair, he’s fine. One of my men is looking a little bruised though.’

  Sinclair laughed. ‘That’s Frank. He’s a bit of a handful, isn’t he, Viktor?’

  ‘Yes he is. I don’t blame him. I would be the same.’

  ‘What do you want from me, Viktor?’

  ‘I don’t know how much you understand about my mission but I need the help of someone else in order to pull it off.’

  ‘It’s not a mission, Viktor, it’s a crime. You’re no more than a scumbag arms dealer and wannabe terrorist.’

  Bazarov stood up and took two quick steps towards Sinclair. He raised his hand and extended a finger, pointing at her face. ‘I’m more than a wannabe, Miss Sinclair. In a few days’ time, everyone will know my name. I am going to make sure the Americans are too busy picking up the pieces of their own broken country to interfere in the affairs of others. I will be a hero to millions of people all over the world.’

  ‘And if you have to kill a few hundred thousand innocent people to achieve that?’

  ‘It’s a price I’m willing to pay.’

  ‘You’re willing?’ Sinclair was starting to raise her voice as she stood up to Bazarov. Quinn put her hand on Sinclair’s arm. She was worried this would escalate further than anyone wanted it to. She knew that Sinclair wouldn’t let it go and Bazarov was becoming more annoyed.

  Sinclair looked into Quinn’s eyes and saw the worry. She had to back off. There would be a time when she could take the gloves off, but this wasn’t it. The few seconds of silence calmed everyone’s tempers and diffused the situation.

  Bazarov retreated and took a step back, Sinclair had got to him and he didn’t like it. ‘Follow me, ladies. It’s time we left.’

  ‘I want to see Frank first. I want to be sure he’s okay.’

  ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible.’

  ‘Look, Bazarov, I’ve agreed to go along with whatever it is you want.’ She held her arms out to the sides. ‘Either I see Frank or you may as well shoot me now.’

  Bazarov took a deep breath and looked up to the cloudless sky as if in prayer, this woman was infuriating. ‘Very well, you can see him, but not for long.’

  The three of them walked to the front of the house. Two four-wheel drives were parked on the driveway. The rear car had five men sitting in it ready to go. Bazarov pointed at the front vehicle. ‘Mrs Quinn, if you would, please get into the car. Miss Sinclair, go and say your goodbyes to McGill.’

  Sergei escorted Sinclair to the barn and into the workshop. McGill was looking better than the last time she had seen him. ‘How are you, Frank?’

  ‘The bed’s a bit hard and the room service sucks but, other than that, I’m fine.’

  Sinclair looked over at Sergei, he wasn’t watching. He was too busy catching up with the other guards. She removed the Glock and gave McGill a hug. He put his arms around her while she
tucked the weapon into his waistband and pulled his shirt over it. ‘Wait until the right moment, Frank. We need to stop this and get Jo’s kids back. If it goes wrong, don’t worry about me.’

  Sergei walked in. ‘Okay, time to go.’

  McGill let his arms drop to his sides. ‘I’ll see you soon, Ali.’

  Sinclair walked out of the room backwards, aware that this could be the last time she saw him.

  As soon as they were out of sight, McGill pulled out the Glock and slipped it into the side of his boot. He grabbed some electrical tape from the rack of shelves and wound it round the weapon and his leg. He pulled his combat trousers over his makeshift holster and stood up; it didn’t show.

  His Russian shadow appeared at the door with a pair of handcuffs. ‘Put these on.’

  McGill snapped the cuffs on his wrists. The guard gestured towards the barn door with his AR-15. ‘Go.’

  Bazarov was standing by the car waiting for Sinclair. He picked up a radio and pressed the transmit key. ‘Open the gates, we’re leaving.’

  At the bottom of the drive the electric gates buzzed and opened.

  Deputy Mike Powell pulled his cruiser off the road and turned into the opening to the Quinn ranch. As he did, the large wrought-iron gates opened and he drove through. He could see a line of vehicles parked up, close to the house. Two four-wheel drives and a couple of vans. They must be planning a trip. He stopped his cruiser and got out. ‘Howdy, how are y’all this mornin’?’

  Sinclair stopped, this was bad. As Powell approached Bazarov, McGill was pushed out of the barn door in handcuffs. The guard behind him was covering him with his assault rifle. Powell recognised the weapon, he’d used one himself. Sinclair tried to shout a warning but it was lost in the chaos of the next few seconds.

  Powell reached down and clamped his hand round the grip of his own weapon. ‘Freeze.’ He wasn’t quick enough. Before the end of the barrel could clear his hip holster, Bazarov had fired a single shot.

  The bullet from Bazarov’s Colt .45 hit Powell in the centre of his chest, smashing through his ribcage and ripping through his heart. For a split second he stood, frozen to the spot. Then, as if in slow motion, he fell backwards, dead.

  Sinclair screamed, ‘NO. You didn’t have to do that.’

  Bazarov swung his arm to point the Colt at her. ‘Do not test me, Miss Sinclair. We have had enough delays. Get in the car.’

  Quinn stuck her head out of the car’s side window. ‘Please, Ali.’

  Sinclair looked back at McGill. He nodded and she climbed into the car with Quinn.

  Bazarov walked over and joined his men. ‘Hide the body and the car. By the time anyone comes looking for him we’ll be miles away. You know what to do.’

  The men nodded. As the two cars drove away and out of the gate, Sinclair watched out of the rear window as the Russians picked up the deputy’s body and threw it in the boot of the police cruiser.

  Chapter 15

  Danny Kinsella finished the dregs of his coffee and read the story he’d picked up from one of the obscure, local, state newswires he’d been monitoring. It was a story about a shootout in a motel in Houston. Not something he would normally have taken any further, but this one included an eyewitness statement about a blonde woman being one of the shooters. A quick search through local law enforcement threw up a report on a possible suspect, Ali Sinclair. From what he had uncovered, she wasn’t a definite suspect, but was someone that the police and FBI were interested in speaking to, especially as she was also an escaped convict.

  Sinclair’s ability to blend in and survive on the run for the last year was, in some part, aided by the fact that the US authorities weren’t actively looking for her. That had changed now. A BOLO had been issued – for police to be on the lookout for Sinclair – and it was only a matter of time until someone spotted her. She would have to stay hidden. If she tried to use the fake ID he’d arranged for her, there was a possibility she’d be picked up.

  Now her freedom of movement was restricted there was little else she would be able to find out. With the FBI showing some interest it was time for her to get out. If they were going to get her home, they needed to act now before a national alert went out for her to be detained. He clicked on his email and sent a message to Carter with a link to the story. He should have arranged a meeting but there wasn’t time.

  Carter opened his mail and followed the link. The story didn’t mention Sinclair or McGill by name but the facts gave them away. A man and a blonde woman, in Texas, take out a drug gang with ease. It had to be them. The information Danny had picked up from the BOLO filled in the rest of the details. Carter agreed with him, this mission was over. It was time for them to pull out and time for MI6 to live up to their end of the bargain. Sinclair needed to come home. He contacted Lancaster and arranged to see him straight away.

  Carter walked through reception and out onto the pavement just as the black BMW pulled up outside. The window rolled down and he looked in. The driver was Lancaster’s bodyguard from the Waterloo club. ‘Good evening, Mr Carter.’

  ‘Good evening.’ He opened the back door and got in.

  ‘I’m taking you to a meeting with Mr Lancaster, sit back, it won’t take long.’

  ‘Thank you ... sorry, I don’t even know your name.’

  ‘That’s not important, sir, but you can call me Weston.’

  ‘Thank you, Weston.’

  They drove south of the river, past Vauxhall Cross and out of central London. The high-rise office blocks gave way to smaller buildings and tree-lined streets as they drove through the suburbs. After an hour, they pulled onto a side road and into the driveway of an old, detached house that sat behind a six-foot brick wall and an iron gate. Weston pulled up outside the front door as Lancaster stepped out.

  Lancaster opened the BMW’s door. ‘Good evening, Simeon.’

  Carter got out of the car and they shook hands. ‘Evening, Edward.’ The house was typically nondescript. Although it was large, it didn’t stand out among the others in the neighbourhood and wasn’t overlooked by any other property. ‘I assume this is an old, safe house?’

  ‘That’s right. Let’s go inside.’ Lancaster led the way in and closed the door behind them.

  The inside of the house was plain – functional. Carter recognised the standard decor from every other safe house he’d been in. ‘I think I might have been here before, with a Soviet defector. Then again, it’s hard to tell. They all look the same.’

  They walked into the kitchen and sat at a table that looked like it had been there since the seventies. ‘Just like old times, Simeon.’

  ‘Yes, I think I recognise the table.’

  They both smirked at old memories they thought they’d forgotten; some good, some bad.

  Carter slid a brown envelope across the table to Lancaster. ‘These are the main points of what I’m about to tell you, what you choose to do with the intell is up to you.’

  ‘Boil it down for me, Simeon. What are we looking at?’

  ‘McGill and Sinclair have found enough info to show that Bazarov is definitely targeting the Kraken.’

  ‘Do we know what he’s planning?’

  Carter shook his head. ‘It looks as though he’s going to try hacking into the system from a test facility off the coast of Belize. Probably trying to harvest technical data to sell on the black market.’

  ‘Is that the worst case?’

  ‘I’ve looked at the options and Bazarov would need a lot more than he’s got to enable him to do anything else.’

  ‘What about Quinn?’

  ‘It’s hard to say whether she’s being played or whether she’s a willing participant. Sinclair thinks the situation with her husband and kids makes her a soft target. But then, Sinclair is a little biased.’

  ‘How are McGill and Sinclair doing?’

  ‘There is a possibility that they were involved in a shootout at a motel in Houston. It seems a local gang tried to roll them.’

  ‘
Any damage?’

  ‘The gang are all dead. The problem we have now is the FBI are involved. I think it’s time for my guys to pull out.’

  Lancaster picked up the envelope and slipped it into his jacket. ‘I agree. I’ll pass this on to the PM and the MOD. I’m sure they’ll postpone the Kraken deal and let the Americans know they have a security problem.’

  ‘I’ll contact McGill and tell him to pull Sinclair out. I’ll work on getting her home.’

  Lancaster stood up and headed for the front door. ‘If there’s anything I can do to help, Simeon, let me know. I have a feeling I’m going to need your team again.’

  ‘There is something else, Edward. Something we found while we were snooping about.’

  Lancaster took his hand off the door handle and turned to look at Carter. ‘Sounds ominous.’

  ‘It looks like we have a mole in Whitehall.’

  ‘Not again, what did you find, Simeon?’

  ‘There is a rumour that Bazarov has a government contact, someone who is referred to as Vadim.’

  ‘I haven’t heard that name before. No one in my department is aware of it.’

  ‘Exactly. Whoever they are, they must be pretty high up. You need to watch your back.’

  ‘Like I said, Simeon, just like old times. I’ll get some of my people looking for the name, see what they can find out.’

  ‘I’ll keep looking as much as I can, I’ll let you know if I find anything.’

  Lancaster opened the door. ‘Weston will drop you back at your hotel. Thank you, Simeon, I’ll be in touch soon. I have a feeling there’s a new Cold War coming.’

  Carter got into the BMW and closed the door. As Weston put the car in gear and drove away, Lancaster waved and turned to go inside.

  The car pulled onto the main road and headed towards London. ‘It’s around an hour to your hotel, sir.’

  Carter sat back in his seat. ‘Thank you, Weston.’

  * * *

  The young FBI analyst didn’t bother to knock this time. He threw open the door and rushed in. ‘Sir, you need to see this.’

  Thomas Johnson was on the phone and held up a hand to try and calm the analyst while he finished the call. Tyler hopped from one foot to the other, getting more and more agitated. ‘Sir, this is important.’