Z-Series | Book 6 | Z-Endgame

by Hatchett

  Once they had stopped laughing, Issy asked how Ayla felt about Ahmed.

  “Well, that’s a weird one. At the start, I just thought he was the big ugly henchman, but the more I got to know him, the more I liked him. You know he protected me from Mamba on a few occasions when Mamba lost his rag? He did. He was very sweet, and I could have been seriously hurt if he hadn’t been there.”

  “So, you like him?”

  “Yes. I think he’s a good guy underneath. He’s gentle and caring and would put his life on the line for you.”

  “And what do you think he feels?”

  “He likes me. I know that for a fact, although nothing’s happened. The problem is Mamba, and if he had to choose, I don’t know which way he would go. If I had to guess, I think he’d side with Mamba. They’ve got this ‘bro’s before ho’s’ thing going on. Well, Mamba has.”

  Ayla finished off her drink while Issy’s sat untouched on the table.

  “Help yourself to another if you want,” Issy asked genially.

  “Why not?” Ayla replied. “We don’t know if it could be the last one. Do you want one?”

  “Not for me, thanks. I need to get some sleep. I’ve only had about two hours in the last thirty-six and I’m dead on my feet.”

  Issy rose to leave, giving Ayla a smile. On the way back to her room, she thought through what had been said. She had no doubt that Ayla had been talking honestly, and what she’d said had confirmed a lot of her own suspicions. The problem, as it had always been, was Mamba.

  43

  Day 26 – 23:45

  Swindon

  Faruk and Ismet sat on the roof of the shopping centre, quietly watching the kids below through the skylights. They had been there for a good few hours watching the goings on and working out how they would attack the centre if the need arose.

  They had previously spent an hour in the local library, looking for building specifications or blueprints, but to no avail. So, they had moved on to the council offices, and after breaking into various rooms, drawers and filing cabinets, had finally found what they were looking for. They now knew every public entrance, delivery entrance, fire escape, toilet, store, duct, wiring and everything else they could wish to know about the building.

  They were pleased that it was a cloudy night with no moon or stars twinkling in the sky above their heads, allowing them to lean over the glass without their silhouette being spotted if anyone happened to look up.

  It was quite difficult to see what was going on below because the only lighting came from battery operated lamps and torches, throwing bright beams of light in some places and creating long, dark pools of shadow in others, effectively ruining any night vision. It was also difficult to tell how many kids were down there because of the constant movement, but as the kids had slowly settled down and retired to their bedding for the evening, it became easier and the twins thought there must be roughly eighty, give or take.

  The problem they had was seeing inside the furniture store where Simon obviously spent most of his time. They had positioned themselves on the opposite side of the skylight to the store so they had a lower angle and longer sightline to their target, especially with the magnification on their binoculars, but then the problems with the lighting were also far worse in the store.

  They had spotted Simon and his entourage seated around the table described by Mamba, and watched as the small group chatted and laughed, newcomers arriving at intervals, some staying standing for a few seconds before moving on, and some taking a seat for a little longer. Only the original seven hardly ever moved, except for the odd toilet break or to stretch their legs.

  The twins had watched as food and drinks were brought to the table and the seven tucked in. The remains were then taken away some time later by the same people.

  At ten, there was some sort of ringing and that was when the kids started settling down for the night. Simon and the other six had come out of the store and stood at the balcony, looking around and saying something which the twins couldn’t pick up. They made a mental note to create a small hole in the glass or the surround if they wanted to hear what was going on inside, or if they needed access for another reason. After all, it would be child’s play, literally, to bring a rifle and scope up here, lay the barrel in a small opening and put a bullet in the kid’s forehead, especially at 10pm with him standing a few metres away on the balcony. It was a shame they couldn’t do it now, but Mamba’s orders had been very specific. Still, there was always the possibility they would get their chance soon.

  The twins watched the seven return to the store and go straight to their table. There, they continued chatting and laughing until just a few minutes earlier, when they had all risen as one and moved across to the other side of the store. Simon had climbed into a double bed with the blond girl while the others climbed into their own separate beds dotted around.

  Faruk and Ismet had seen enough and carefully edged back from the skylight before standing up.

  “Time to deliver,” Faruk said, and Ismet nodded in agreement.

  Looking at his watch, Faruk worked out where the guards would be and carefully led the way off the roof. Once on the ground, they stopped and let their eyes adjust to the darkness, keeping a look out for any of the kids who might have broken pattern. Then they walked along the centre’s outer walls then across the delivery area towards the main road. Just before they reached the main road, they hung back in the shadows and waited.

  It was another few minutes before they heard the first muffled footsteps of two guards heading in their direction after doing their circuit. The twins had to admit that, apart from being too regimented and sticking to the same routine, the kids were doing a pretty good job overall. Their discipline was excellent and, of course, they had managed to catch Mamba unawares.

  Neither of the twins uttered a word as they moved soundlessly towards the footsteps, keeping to the darkest shadows wherever possible. They were effectively invisible, and it would have been difficult to spot them even if you knew where to look.

  Once in position, they waited until the guards drew level and had just gone past before they silently emerged and quickly closed the gap from behind.

  They took one guard each, one hand covering their mouths to prevent any noise and one hand holding a very sharp blade to their throats. They dragged the two guards back into the delivery area without saying a word.

  Faruk whispered in his captive’s ear that he would slice his throat if he made a sound and the kid nodded quickly, starting to shake with mounting terror.

  “Make sure this goes to Simon,” Faruk whispered, releasing the kid’s mouth to pull out an envelope from his pocket and wave it in front of the kid’s face. He then thrust the envelope into one of the kid’s pockets and, in tune with Ismet, they carefully lowered the kids onto the ground face first.

  “Do not move for five minutes,” Faruk threatened, before he and Ismet slunk away into the shadows. They didn’t go far but settled and waited to see if the kids did as they were told.

  Just under five minutes later, with the twins watching, the kids spoke for the first time, essentially checking with each other if they thought the five minutes were up. They clearly came to the conclusion that it was as they both rose unsteadily to their feet.

  The kid who had been held by Faruk rummaged in his pocket and pulled out the envelope to give it a closer look.

  “It says ‘Simon’ on the front, and it’s sealed,” the kid said.

  “Should we open it?” his partner said.

  “No chance. We need to take it to Simon straightaway. It could be important.”

  With that, the two kids turned and walked quickly back in the direction of the shopping centre entrance.

  Satisfied, Faruk and Ismet headed back to the warehouse, job done.

  44

  Day 27 – 08:30

  Swindon

  Mamba was up and about, eager to get going. He’d left Irina and Hana sleeping in his tent as he dressed and c
ame out to get something to eat.

  He saw Karina near the ring, giving him her best death stare. If looks could kill…but looks couldn’t kill, thank God, otherwise he’d have been dead years ago. He didn’t have time for any of her shite right now, so he ignored her and kept walking.

  He spotted Faruk and Ismet standing near one of the exits, talking to each other in low voices. Mamba lit a cigarette as he sidled up to them.

  “Morning, Boss,” Faruk said without turning around.

  “Everything is set,” Ismet confirmed.

  Neither of them had turned to see him so how the fuck did they know it was him and not one of the others? These two seemed to have some sort of psychic powers. Mamba shrugged, it didn’t really matter, they’d done what he asked and now all he had to do was wait until 10am that morning. He couldn’t wait.

  “Be there ‘n let me know if he turns up,” Mamba ordered, holding out a walkie talkie between them.

  Faruk took the walkie talkie and nodded, then they both drifted away.

  Mamba watched them go, wondering why they were so anti-social. Then he recalled their ‘art’ in the amusement arcade back in London and suspected that it was probably the other way around. People just didn’t want to be near them, including their relatives like Basir. Talking of Basir, where was he? Mamba hadn’t seen him since giving him a bollocking over those fucking yellow kagools.

  Mamba headed back to the centre, intending to get a coffee, something to eat and then find Basir.

  He caught Karina staring at him again and decided he better go and speak to her. Nip it in the bud and all that. He stuffed some sort of fried food in his mouth, grabbed two coffees and headed over to her, offering one of the coffees.

  She took the cup, almost a snatch, and was still glowering at him. Mamba used his newly freed up hand to take the food from his mouth.

  “How’s it goin’ babe?” he asked, seeing her pupils narrow slightly.

  “I’m fine,” she huffed.

  Clearly not, then.

  “Good ta hear. Ya comin’ out wiv me this mornin’?”

  “Depends where you’re going and what you’re planning to do. If it’s to your office, then no. If it’s somewhere else, then we’ll see.”

  Mamba stared at her for a second.

  “Don’t forget, ya do what I say,” he said, the threat implicit in his voice. “So, if I say we goin’ ta me office, then we goin’ ta me office.”

  Karina wasn’t for backing down.

  “I could always leave…as you promised.”

  Mamba nodded.

  “There’s the fuckin’ door,” he said, pointing.

  Karina looked, clearly considering it and Mamba immediately decided that he didn’t want her to leave. So, he smiled.

  “Only jokin’. I want ya ta stay.”

  “Then you better start treating me right.”

  “I thought I was. Tell me what ya want.”

  “A space in the tent, not out here available to everyone.”

  “But there’s hardly enough space fer three, never mind four! ‘N the men will be pissed, thinkin’ I’m bein’ greedy.”

  “Not my problem. Tent or adios,” she remarked, before turning and wandering off.

  Fuckin’ women! Mamba thought. If he did what she wanted it would cause untold aggro. Then he smiled to himself. Maybe this place needed a bit of livening up.

  Ahmed approached.

  “Wassup?” Ahmed asked, seeing Karina moving away with a face like thunder and Mamba smiling. “She’s got a face on her like a slapped arse.”

  “Yeah, women trouble, bro. The worst kind,” Mamba replied.

  “Time of the month?”

  “Nah, jus’ bein’ fuckin’ awkward.”

  “No change there, then,” Ahmed said, laughing. “Wouldn’t be another beautiful day on planet Earth wivout some kinda Mamba drama.”

  Mamba shrugged, the smile still on his face.

  “Ya seen Basir?” he asked.

  “Nah, bro. Keepin’ his head down I reckon.”

  “Fuckin’ yellow kagools!” Mamba said, and they both started laughing.

  “Basir!” Mamba screamed, loud enough to wake the dead, the sound echoing around the cavernous warehouse.

  “Why don’t ya shout a bit louder,” Ahmed complained, rubbing his ears, “but give me a warnin’ first.”

  They could both hear the movement of people and tent zips opening.

  “Betta than an alarm clock,” Ahmed muttered sarcastically.

  Mamba grinned and headed back to grab another coffee, Ahmed following.

  “So, what we doin’?”

  “Got a meetin’,” Mamba replied. “Ya comin’?”

  “Why not? Nothin’ betta ta do. Who we meetin’?”

  Basir came running across the concrete floor, out of breath and clearly having dressed quickly, his hair all over the place. He came to a stop by Mamba and Ahmed.

  “You wanted me, Boss?” he wheezed.

  “Yeah. I want all the men in combat gear, tooled up ‘n ready ta move out by 10am.”

  “Yes Boss,” Basir replied, and turned and ran back the way he had come.

  “Who we invadin’?” Ahmed asked with a laugh, intrigued by Mamba’s order. Then he stopped laughing. “Hey, ya ain’t goin’ after ‘em kids?”

  “We jus’ gonna scare Simple Simon so bad he’s gonna shit his pants,” Mamba said, with a nasty grin.

  “Ya sure that’s all?” Ahmed asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Ah, back ta the good ol’ days then,” Ahmed replied, smiling.

  45

  Day 27 – 08:30

  Swindon

  Simon sat at the table, his face betraying the thoughts flying around inside his head. He hadn’t slept much; the easy interception of his two guards and the letter they had given him had seen to that.

  He’d been awoken not long after midnight by the guards, both clearly worried and scared. He’d got out of bed, being careful not to wake anyone, taken the envelope and gone across to one of the comfortable sofas to see what it said. He’d sent the two boys back to their guarding duties, although it was clear neither of them fancied it. It was all well and good playing soldiers when nothing much was going on, but when it became a bit more serious, he realised that sadly, they simply wouldn’t be up to it.

  He’d carefully studied the envelope first, not liking the ‘Simple Simon’ scrawled in block capitals on the front and S.W.A.L.K. on the back, although what that meant he had no idea. The moniker on the front had clearly been done to get his back up, and it had worked.

  He’d finally opened it, finding one sheet of paper torn from a notebook inside. The same block capitals, although smaller than the lettering on the envelope, was short and to the point.

  “Faringdon Park. 10.30. Alone, or else! Mamba.”

  He now passed the letter and envelope around the table, watching each of his friends closely as they read the contents before looking back at him with confused looks on their faces. He waited patiently and quietly until they had all read it.

  “It was from that arsehole who was here the other day,” one of the lads said, breaking the silence. “I thought we’d told him to fuck off.”

  “We did,” said another, “so either he’s a bit thick or asking for a good kicking…or worse.”

  “Yeah, he was warned,” said another.

  “But we don’t know who he is, or how many people are with him,” the girl with the long dark hair countered.

  “Who cares?” shot back one of the lads. “We’ll outnumber them, and we have loads of weapons. Remember, how we dealt with adults before.”

  The girl shuddered inwardly, being careful not to let it show in her face. It wasn’t something she really wanted to remember, and she still had nightmares about it.

  “But they didn’t have weapons and were taken by surprise,” the blond hair girl pointed out. “These lot had pistols and will be ready for us.”

  Simon watched as the deb
ate bounced back and forth between the lads on one side and the girls on the other. The lads were full of bravado whereas the girls were advocating caution. When they’d finally finished arguing, some of it quite heated, they became silent and all eyes turned to Simon as they always did.

  “The first thing I want to know is what the fuck S.W.A.L.K. means.”

  The lads were shaking their heads, having no idea, but the girl with long dark hair smiled.

  “You guys have no romantic bones in your bodies. It means ‘Sealed With A Loving Kiss’.

  “He’s taking the piss big time!” one of the lads said in disgust.

  “Dead right. Fucking cheek,” said another.

  It was clear by the look on Simon’s face that he wasn’t amused either. First the ‘Simple Simon’ tag and now more insults. Well, if the fucker wanted to meet him face to face, then that’s exactly what he’d get. But he wouldn’t be alone.

  46

  Day 27 – 10:15

  Swindon

  Simon walked along Maxwell Street, one of the side roads which lead directly to the park.

  His friends were walking along with him, while the kids were out in force, some ahead, some to the sides, some behind and some in the two parallel roads on either side of this one. They were clearing zombies with their spears, making sure they couldn’t get near Simon, and at the same time they were making sure there wasn’t an ambush.

  Simon was smiling to himself. It had been a few days since he’d ventured outside, and he drew in deep breaths of fresh air and kicked the leaves that had fallen in clumps from the surrounding trees. The air was cool, as you would expect at this time of the year, and whilst the dark grey sky threatened rain, it had held off so far. He was actually looking forward to this meeting, confident that he had the upper hand and would get his own back on this Mamba for the insults. Simon shook his head slightly, marvelling at the man’s stupidity.

  They reached the end of Maxwell Street, crossed Faringdon Road, and entered Faringdon Park at the Eastern corner. Faringdon Park was roughly square, a hundred metres on each side, mostly grass but surrounded by trees at its outer edges.