The Last Judgement

by The Last Judgement (retail) (epub)

  ‘Now the whole family is together.’

  ‘Please, don’t hurt—’ was all Chloe managed before Vlad raised the machete and pointed it towards her.

  ‘Shut your mouth,’ he spat, with a look of sheer murder in his eyes.

  Harker was already preparing to rush the psychopath when two guards appeared at the door brandishing semi-automatic machine guns. Vlad walked forward with his weapon still raised, until the tip of the blade was pressed firmly against Harker’s throat.

  ‘You don’t really think you made it here under your own steam, do you, Professor? We kindly let you in,’ he mocked, ‘but I assure you we will not be letting you out.’

  Chapter 38

  ‘Wake up!’ the voice demanded, as Shroder felt the firm slap of a palm across his face. ‘No sleeping on the job.’

  The painful sting of the unexpected blow across his cheek was quickly replaced by a hot swelling sensation and, for a moment, as his eyes flipped open, he was at a complete loss as to where he was. His wrists were firmly bound on either side of the wooden chair he sat on; it was in the middle of the same front room he had first entered – that much he remembered. His fractured memory returned to him quickly as he found himself staring into the unyielding eyes of Andrew Campus.

  ‘Why did you have to go sticking your nose in, John?’ Campus asked, looking genuinely perturbed as he sat down on the sofa opposite. ‘I wouldn’t have offered you any help at all if I had known you were looking into Winters.’

  ‘Why?’ Shroder rasped, his mouth dry.

  Campus leant forward and jabbed his finger in Shroder’s direction. ‘You’re the one in the interrogation chair, John. You’ll answer my questions. So, what do you know about him?’

  Shroder rolled his eyes before shaking his head. ‘Not a lot, you idiot, or I wouldn’t be asking you, would I?’

  ‘Easy, John,’ Campus replied, wagging his finger. ‘You’re the one who’s currently in a bind.’

  Shroder had known Campus for over fifteen years, and although he had been tasered and trussed up by his colleague he could not help but suspect that this was just routine work for the other man. But on whose instructions, he wondered. ‘Are you working for another agency?’

  Campus flashed an unamused smile. ‘Don’t make this messy, John, please. I just want to know: why your interest in Jacob Winters?’

  An uncomfortable silence settled between them and then, pursing his lips, Shroder began to talk. ‘OK, but first I want to know: what’s in the box?’

  Campus considered the request for a moment, then reached over and ripped off its top, holding the box in front of him as he tipped the contents, consisting of a three-pack of Sellotape and some other odds and ends, onto the floor.

  ‘What’s all that for?’ Shroder asked, as one of the packs rolled towards him and came to a stop at his feet.

  ‘No idea, it’s not my house, just one I use,’ Campus replied, throwing the empty box onto the floor. ‘It was here when we came in, so I used it to catch you off guard. Now, once again, why the interest in Winters?’

  There was now real impatience in Campus’s voice but the short diversion over the box had given Shroder time to come up with a story. ‘It’s not just the criminal fraternity that Winters has been sticking his fingers into. He’s been making some waves within the business community as well, and some of the company owners are extremely powerful and they are not happy. MI6 was asked to get a more complete picture of this “mole” of yours, which is where I come in. The task was merely dropped in my lap, and you were my first port of call.’

  ‘Why me?’

  ‘Simple, because my sources told me that you’ve collected more information on him than anyone else.’

  He spoke the last few words with an honest shrug of his shoulders as Campus remained silent but continuing to stare sternly in his direction, encouraging Shroder to continue.

  ‘Which is why it surprised me when you said that MI6 was the first to clock him because, unless I was kept in the dark, which is always possible, we know nothing about him, let alone the arms deal sting you spoke of.’

  Campus continued to remain silent and then he tapped his finger against his forehead thoughtfully before getting to his feet and taking a step towards Shroder. ‘You know what, John? I believe you.’

  ‘Good,’ Shroder replied. ‘So are you going to return the favour and tell me what the hell is going on? Oh, and untying me would be a good start.’

  Campus was already shaking his head before Shroder finished speaking. ‘I’m afraid not. You see, you’re right about MI6 not conducting the arms deal sting, because in actual fact it was me, and I was also the reason the man never told his story to anyone else but me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It wasn’t so much a sting as a kidnapping operation performed by yours truly. A few months back, I got my first solid lead on Winters, which led in turn to the arms dealer.’

  ‘Bullshit,’ Shroder protested. ‘There’s no way an operation like that would be handed over to just one man.’

  ‘Now that is true, but when I turned up at the address my source had given me, the dealer opened the door. He stood right there in front of me, so I decided to take him there and then. Fluke, really, but like with all opportunities, you never know when they are going to present themselves. But when they do, you cling on with everything you’ve got.’

  With a heavy sigh, Campus moved over to stand next to the sofa and slouched against the wall. ‘I followed procedure, pretty much,’ he continued with a wink, ‘and the man just started spilling his guts…told me everything he knew. After this unusual confession I was about to take him into custody when the phone rang, and I picked it up and was staggered when some old man introduced himself to me.’

  ‘Winters,’ Shroder guessed, and Campus slowly nodded.

  ‘Yes…and he gave me a choice. I could either take the man in and go through the judicial process, or I could silence him for good and make a deal.’

  ‘How much?’ Shroder asked, knowing there are few deals other than those involving money that a man would give up everything for.

  ‘A million pounds upfront, to be delivered to an account of my choosing within the hour, and one hundred and fifty thousand a year for the rest of my life. All I had to do was keep him informed of any nosing around by Interpol.’

  The cavalier way in which Campus was talking had Shroder shaking his head in disappointment. He had known this man for longer than most, and in all that time never suspected that the fellow would jump ship and betray his oath so easily. Of course, he knew that Campus was prone to bending the rules, but that had always been to the benefit of the agency he served. ‘Just like that?’

  ‘Yes,’ Campus replied without any hint of regret. ‘Every time we make a conviction, every time we knock someone off their crooked pedestal, they are straight away replaced with someone else who’s usually even far worse. All those years we spend building a case…the time, the effort, and in the end where does it get us? Nowhere, just right back to square one.’

  ‘Andrew, we’ll never succeed in eradicating crime,’ Shroder replied, tensing against the ropes binding him to his chair. ‘We can only keep it in check, maintain the balance as best we can.’

  The logic in Shroder’s argument had Campus waving dismissively. ‘It’s not enough any more. It’s futile, and you know it.’

  ‘Maybe, but at least we have others to watch our backs. How long do you think it’s going to be before Winters sees you as a loose end? When will you reach a point where you aren’t able to achieve what he wants, or you make a misstep? A man like that will get rid of you quicker than he does his enemies.’

  Campus, looking unfazed by the prospect, sat down on the edge of the sofa and began to shake his head. ‘That would be a distinct possibility had his contact not given up some even tastier morsels concerning Winters.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘He told me who Winters really is.’

  ‘Who?
’

  Campus now began to smile shrewdly. ‘You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you, but suffice it to say that if it got out, the uproar would be like nothing that has occurred before. I told Winters I knew his true identity and that if he kept his word, then so would I. Of course, I used all precautions possible, so that if anything happens to me the word will still get out, but as of now I am fully protected.’

  Campus’s admission had Shroder laughing out loud. ‘Are you really that dumb? That just puts an even bigger crosshair on your forehead!’

  ‘If you knew who Winters really is, you would be agreeing with me.’

  The force of Campus’s conviction was unfathomable to Shroder because, whatever Winters’s true identity, he was not a man to trifle with. ‘Tell me, for the sake of whatever remains of our friendship, just tell me.’

  ‘Not a chance, John. That’s a secret I will take to my grave, simple as.’

  A thought now rose in Shroder’s mind and he found himself recalling Harker’s rendition of events back at the safe house near Mont-Saint-Michel. ‘This Winters fellow, his identity wouldn’t have a mythological feel to it…would it?’

  Campus said nothing and just stared at him blankly before stepping round the back of the sofa, where he reached down and retrieved a red metal canister. ‘I’m afraid, John, that the only connection to a mythological character you’re going to encounter here is Prometheus.’

  Shroder fought the sensation of panic that ripped through him as Campus unscrewed the canister’s lid and then began to splash petrol over his head.

  ‘You’re going to burn me alive!’ he yelled, spluttering from the noxious fumes that had begun burning his eyes and throat.

  ‘Sorry, John, but there can be no loose ends,’ Campus replied, now sloshing the walls and sofa with the same oily fluid. ‘You’ll die in a house fire. Your ropes are already greased, so they should incinerate in the flames.’

  Shroder was now struggling against his bonds and jerking in his chair like a maniac as Campus began to dribble a line of petrol towards the front door. ‘Jesus, if I have to go, then just shoot me, don’t burn me.’

  Shroder had no desire to get shot, but at least it might offer an opportunity to escape because a gunshot would without question be heard by neighbours, meaning Campus would have to take him to another location, even if it was simply the basement.

  ‘Sorry, John, but that would not look very accidental, would it?’

  Campus put down the canister and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. After opening it he extracted one and then threw the pack itself underneath Shroder’s chair. ‘You fell asleep while smoking and set yourself on fire – at least that’s what the authorities will determine.’

  ‘I’m covered in petrol, you idiot,’ Shroder raged, ‘so I think they’d notice.’

  Campus shook his head. ‘It could certainly turn into a bit of a mystery, but without any leads, it could be considered death by misadventure, which would certainly not be the conclusion if I put a bullet in your head, now would it?’

  ‘You’re crazy,’ Shroder howled as Campus began to search through his pockets for a light.

  ‘No, John, you’re the crazy one for ever going after Winters. Now where the hell did I put those matches?’

  Campus disappeared from the room, leaving Shroder frantically rocking in his chair. His feet were bound to the chair legs and, with little other option and frankly crapping himself at the prospect of being burnt alive, he did the only thing he could do. Without a moment to lose, he rocked the chair backwards onto its hind legs and then rocked himself forward, the momentum propelling him upright until he was standing on the tips of his toes. Thankfully Campus had not paid as much attention to the slack of the rope as he should have and it allowed Shroder to remain standing although bent over and crouched due to the confines of the chair. Then in one fluid motion he flicked himself backwards in an arc off the balls of his feet like a person attempting a backwards high dive.

  The chair landed on its two back legs with such force that the back of his seat cracked under the weight, followed by the joint connecting the legs. He collapsed on the floor and found the chair splintered enough for him to slip one rope-bound hand through the crack.

  The rummaging sound of Campus searching for a match stopped immediately, and Shroder could hear the sound of quickening footsteps approaching as he stood up and pulled his other hand free. With the rest of the chair still strapped to his legs he managed a few pathetic bunny hops towards the doorway which he reached just as Campus appeared. With a final bounce he slammed his head into Campus’s face with enough force to feel the cartilage of his former friend’s nose crumple against his skull.

  Campus let out an almighty shriek of pain as he collapsed to the floor with Shroder now on top of him throwing punch after punch after punch, and it was in this moment that any self-control deserted the MI6 agent. The sheer bloody fury he felt at being almost burnt alive extinguished any emotion in him but hatred, and he continued to land blows, again and again, until blood was dripping from his fists. Staring down at Campus’s twitching body, he suddenly realized he had gone too far – way too far.

  Both of Andrew Campus’s cheekbones had completely caved in, and his nose was little more than a flattened mush of sinew and skin.

  Shroder pulled away and untied the ropes, still around his legs, allowing what was left of the chair to fall to the ground, as Campus sucked in quivering breaths amidst a gurgling sound as blood was expelled from his facial wounds and trickled down his throat. In losing his temper, justified or not, he had come close to killing the man, and with a sliver of regret he pulled himself up and knelt down by the bloody body of his former friend.

  ‘I’m going to call an ambulance,’ Shroder gasped, panting for breath, ‘but first I need you to tell me what I want to know. Who is Jacob Winters?’

  Campus continued to gurgle horribly but managed a weak shake of his head.

  ‘If I don’t call an ambulance soon, Andrew, there’s a real chance you’re going to die. I’m now offering you more of a chance than you offered me.’

  Campus’s eyes flickered and the flap that was his nose lifted slightly as he let out another breath. With Shroder still hovering over him, he finally grunted with a shaky twitch of his head. His words were nothing more than a whisper, and so Shroder lowered his ear to the man’s mouth, and strained to hear as Campus uttered just two words.

  Shroder pulled away, his face full of shock and his eyes wide with disbelief. ‘That can’t be,’ he said quietly, even as Campus gave an unsettling and painful chuckle. ‘It’s impossible…impossible.’

  Campus managed a twisted smile, his left eye drooping due to the shattered eye socket. ‘On my life…it’s true,’ he murmured softly. Then his eyes fluttered and he slipped into unconsciousness as Shroder sat back against the door frame in a state of shock.

  ‘That can’t be right,’ he muttered repeatedly, until the full realization of what he had been told sank in.

  He then found himself calling out a single name: ‘Alex.’

  Chapter 39

  Harker sank to his knees, then immediately sprang back upright as another punch slammed into his ribs.

  ‘I said move,’ a rasping voice yelled, but this time forgoing a further blow and instead grabbing Harker’s collar and shoving him forward roughly. ‘They’re waiting.’

  Within seconds of Vlad’s ominous welcome, a sack had been pulled over his head and he was dragged away from Chloe and Carter to be locked up, handcuffed, in a darkened room somewhere deep within the mansion. With a rope securing the sack around his neck, he had been left on his own for hours except when on one occasion the door opened and someone had sloshed water over his head, shouting ‘Tea time’.

  Whether it was water or cold tea was irrelevant because the gross hospitality had merely left him wet and cold, with only a few drops penetrating through the sack to reach his lips. The cramped confines of what he had come to guess
was a storage cupboard had become something of a torture in itself, and by the time he was pulled out again every muscle in his body was aching.

  A succession of bright lights now infiltrated the fibres of the sack hood he was wearing and, as he was led forcefully up some stairs, Harker began to hear a low-level hum which grew in intensity the nearer he approached. It was impossible to judge if it was coming from a machine or something else, but as he reached the top of the stairs and the sack was pulled off, the sight that awaited him was unsettling at best. Squinting, Harker scanned his surroundings through blurry eyes.

  The open-air semicircular amphitheatre before him had been carved into the side of the same mountain Harker had traversed in order to reach the mansion and, judging by the sight of the tennis courts in the distance, it was located on the opposite side of that palatial estate. Stone steps had been cut into the curving interior and, from where he stood now on the top level, Harker was able to get a bird’s-eye view of the entire arena. Flaming torches had been positioned throughout and they flickered across the stone steps leading down to a stage hollowed into the mountain itself. But although the seating arrangement could have easily held a few thousand people, it contained fewer than twenty spread out randomly. Each individual wore the same robe Harker had noted back at Cervete cemetery and a black face mask adorned with an image that was impossible to distinguish clearly from his current position. The sight was dispiriting enough, but the low-level communal humming only increased the morbid atmosphere. At first Harker couldn’t make out why the monotone sound was so loud, given the vast size of the amphitheatre, but a series of black rectangular speakers placed throughout soon provided the answer.

  ‘Well, you made it,’ a familiar voice spoke up, and Harker turned around to see Vlad standing before him with his arms crossed and staring at him with less than amused expression.

  ‘Where are Chloe and David?’ Harker demanded angrily, but Vlad simply ignored his question and motioned to the uniformed guard behind him. Without uttering a word, the man grasped Harker’s shoulder and forced him roughly down the steps of the amphitheatre and onto the orchestra floor, as Vlad himself made his way up onto the stage.