Milieu Dawn

by Malcolm Franks

Opening the door to Jenna’s room Matt glanced at the woman with the long dark hair passing by, clutching a clip board to her chest. It was an unconscious thing, lowering his line of sight to glimpse her bare forearm. The star tattoo didn’t register in his mind at first. It was as she neared the end of the corridor something clicked.

  “Take this,” he said, hurling the laptop at Will’s stunned expression. “There’s someone I have to talk to.”

  As he darted from the door he heard Jenna’s feint voice calling from behind.

  “Matt,” she uttered in frustration. “Where are you going now?”

  There wasn’t time to answer. His target sensed something was wrong and turned her head to see him fast approaching. Realising she’d been identified, the woman turned and ran.

  Matt reached the end of the corridor and searched for his quarry with hate-filled eyes. The place was awash with a maze of people. One by one he cast his gaze over each and every person in view.

  He spotted her, several yards ahead. She had ditched the clip board and was carrying a holdall. Glancing nervously from side to side, she had lessened her pace to a quick stroll so as not to appear conspicuous. There could be only reason for this woman to be patrolling these corridors. She had come to finish what she had started.

  With the stealth of a big jungle cat he narrowed the gap to his unsuspecting prey, adroitly and silently evading the human obstacles in his path.

  A small plastic toy slipped from the child’s tiny hand in front of him, and fell directly into Matt’s urgent path. The little girl wrestled to free her hand from the adult’s grasp and called out after the fallen object. It was too late to avoid the navy coloured button-like object and he inadvertently crushed it beneath his foot, causing the child to burst into floods of tears. The commotion was enough to make the target turn and she spotted him.

  Now it was a foot race. He breezed past the distraught child and her angry mother. The target ran for the safety of a side exit. Rushing to catch up he pushed forcefully at the door and listened for sounds of movement on the stairwell. He peered over the railing to try and see his fleeing prey. That’s when he felt the heavy blow to his shoulders and crumpled to the floor.

  Momentarily stunned, Matt heard her re-enter the corridor as he shook the life back into his dazed mind. Her ambush had bought the woman precious additional seconds of freedom.

  He charged back into the corridor, looking left and then right. The child continued to bawl at the flattened object in her little hand. Matt’s re-appearance only made her cry harder.

  His eyes searched past the grief stricken toddler but could see nothing. Turning sharply, he saw a female shape hurrying round the corner. Matt dashed towards the departing figure in the hope he’d guessed correctly.

  Rounding the corner brought him into a large, open space. The area was still, save for a small number of medical staff congregating in the middle, exchanging medical terms that meant nothing to him. The woman was nowhere to be seen. He’d lost her. Damn! Where the hell had she gone?

  His disappointment was short lived. A similar sized figure to his prey could be seen from the window, emerging out of a door and rushing towards the car park. Matt’s mind went into auto mode. Closing his eyes for a fleeting moment, he forced his memory to recall the nearest exit. Spatial mapping was a skill he had learnt from Rosa Cain. He used it now at every new location, as if it were second nature. Within a flash he had determined the route and moved swiftly to intercept his quarry.

  He saw the rushing woman jump into a car. Moments later, the tyres of a small, dark blue vehicle screeched aloud and the car vaulted out of its space. Matt quickened his pace to try and catch the fleeing machine, jumping across the bonnets of the stationary mass of automobiles in an attempt to prevent its escape.

  A sudden burst of flashing lights heralded the arrival of the fast approaching ambulance. Neither of the drivers spotted the other. With a sickening thud, the medical carriage thumped into the side of the small car and sent it spinning away in the opposite direction.

  Matt was closing on the heavily damaged car when he spotted people running towards the crash site.

  “I’ll see to this one,” he yelled. “Check the ambulance.”

  Without thinking, they obeyed his shouted instruction and made their way towards the stricken ambulance, some distance away.

  Matt cautiously approached and eyed the stationary vehicle. Petrol had begun to seep from the tank and was leaking onto the concrete ground underneath. The driver and rear passenger doors had been crumpled by the impact, making entry from this side impossible. Slipping onto the back seat through the opposite door, he examined the confined interior. The woman was slumped back in her seat, dazed by the impact. His eyes searched for injury. The shattered end of the tibia had pierced the skin and jutted out from her left leg, halfway down the shin. He reached forward and adjusted the driver’s mirror to look into the woman’s face. A line of blood trickled from the scalp where her head had made violent contact with the door frame. Her long nose looked broken.

  Edging further inside his foot rubbed against the black holdall. Pressing his fingers to the material he felt the outline of several pieces of clothing and what felt like a hand gun.

  The woman’s eyes flickered into dull life and she began to moan at the pain infiltrating her consciousness. Seeing Matt’s face looming into view, through the twisted driver’s mirror, her face filled with terror.

  “Help me,” she groaned. “Please help me.”

  “The medics will be here soon,” he said calmly. “They’re going to find you dead at the wheel with a broken neck unless you give me the information I need,” he added menacingly.

  “I don’t know anything.”

  “Not even your own name,” he hissed.

  “Which one do you want? I have half a dozen or more. None of them are real.”

  “Who do you work for?”

  “I’m freelance.”

  She heard him unzip the holdall and rummage through the contents. Once finished, he reached round the seat and went through her jacket pockets. There was nothing to be found.

  “Who is your contact?”

  “We don’t get names. Instructions come through the mail.”

  “You must have a contact number.”

  “No, it’s too much of a risk. Once a job is complete we place a coded ad in the local press.”

  He didn’t believe her.

  “Why does someone want to hurt Jenna?” he demanded.

  “She’s not the target, you are.”

  His eyes inflamed in surprise.

  “So why hurt Jenna?” he hissed.

  “The contractor wanted you to suffer.”

  “How was that supposed to work, exactly?”

  The woman’s face contorted in agony as the pain of her injuries began to register through her nervous system.

  “It was a four phase op. First we had to wreck the business. The next stage was to kill your girlfriend and then take away your personal wealth so you’d be left with nothing. Only then were you to be taken out.”

  Matt could scarcely believe his ears.

  “That explains the disappearing funds. What made you think Jenna is my girlfriend?”

  “We staked out the house. She came back with you last night.”

  He noticed her arm move slightly, pushing at something as if she were trying to conceal it from view. Matt leant forward and she stopped.

  “Here,” he said, “let me take a closer peek at that nasty looking injury.”

  His arm reached over the seat and pushed at the protruding bone. She screamed in agony, providing him with enough of a distraction to discreetly free the object from underneath her thigh.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I won’t do it again.”

  She started to sob. He believed it to be a ruse. Normally, he would have held sympathy for an injured woman. For her, he had none. Matt glanced at the object while her attention was focussed on dealing with the surge of agony he’
d caused. The mobile phone confirmed she was holding information from him.

  “Durham. I can smell burning. Get some help. Please, I’m begging you to let someone come and free me. I’ve told you everything I know.”

  Slipping the phone into the side pocket of his jacket, and the gun from the holdall, Matt shimmied along the rear seat. He lowered the window and peered out. Little was obvious to the naked eye, other than the smell of fuel. Then he saw the yellow flames lengthen up the side of the door.

  “What are you doing?” she groaned.

  “Seeing if there is some way I can get you out of here,” he replied.

  She groaned again and started to sob louder.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “Relief is coming.”

  “Thanks, thanks for not hurting me.”

  He slid out of the door. Rising from the vehicle he noticed a second pool of leaking diesel fuel had coagulated underneath the petrol tank. A glance revealed the rapidly approaching medical team. They wouldn’t get here in time. He frantically tugged at the handle of the driver’s door. It flew open and he reached to release the safety belt. The fixture was jammed. He spotted metal in her hand, a knife. Matt changed his mind and stepped away from the open door of the damaged car.

  “Get back! Get away from here!” he yelled urgently at the fast nearing ensemble. “It’s ready to blow!”

  As he accelerated away from the damaged machine, the approaching mass of people instinctively ground to a halt and crouched in response to his alarm call. Behind, the woman’s shrill screams of panic now filled the evening air.

  “Durham! Durham! …don’t leave me...help me!”

  The explosion was loud and colourful, the force of the blast tossing his escaping body high up into the air then depositing him back on the ground. Matt hit the concrete surface and rolled further away from the carnage.

  Stunned momentarily, he shook his head to try and clear the deafening noise from his mind, then looked behind to see the tall yellow flames reach up and envelop what remained of the burning metal coffin.

  “Are you alright?” asked a man’s voice, standing above.

  “Yeah, I think I’m okay,” he replied, slowly rising to his feet and brushing the dust from his trousers. “Thanks for asking. I think I’m fine.”

  Two burly, brown-uniformed security guards armed with fire extinguishers joined the watching crowd. They proceeded to try and shove their way through the melee, in an attempt to reach the blazing vehicle. Their vain effort to rescue the body of the burning woman was soon cut short by the intense heat emitted from the towering flames.

  Matt was at the head of the watching throng. Everyone, bar he, looked at the scene with faces aghast at the horror before them. He wondered if he’d jumped to the wrong conclusion once he’d spotted the knife.

  “Why couldn’t you get her out?” asked a female nurse.

  Matt shook his head in resigned failure.

  “The legs were trapped,” he said.

  “What an awful way to die. Did you know her?”

  “No, I’ve no idea who she was.”

  Matt extricated himself from the crowded mass and headed over to the main entrance. He pulled out the stolen mobile and began to search through the list of text messages. One very short, sharp message caught his attention.

  Call it in, it read. He pressed the dial button and waited for an answer.

  “This is the inbox of Ted Kendricks. Please leave your contact details after the tone,” said the pre-recorded message.

  He was about to hang up when the call was answered.

  “Hey, Mandy,” spoke the rich American southern twang “What took yer so long?”

  “Mandy’s not a well girl I’m afraid,” said Matt.

  An uneasy silence followed the statement, the American caught off guard by the unexpected sound of a man’s voice.

  “Yer sure don’t lay down easy Durham,” was the uneasy reply. “How’s yer girlfriend?”

  Matt almost rose to the bait.

  “She’s fine, getting better all the time,” he replied. “With any luck she’ll be released soon.”

  “Yer one of life’s natural optimists, aren’t yer Durham. But yer should know I’ve got plenty more Mandy’s waiting in line,” the American threatened.

  “Better get right on it then, Ted. You don’t have much time left yourself, once I catch up with you,” Matt responded with equal menace.

  Anyone could have heard a pin drop. As Matt waited for the American to resume the conversation, he heard the clanging sound of a bell in the background. It was the bell from one of the tourist launches operating from Victoria harbour. Then the line went dead.

  He knew Kendricks would now run. He also knew where the guy would run to. Pulling out his own mobile, Matt dialled the number on the card, another answer phone message. What was the point of mobile phones?

  “Detective Early, it’s Matt Durham. I’ve got a lead to your enquiry. Get to Vancouver Airport urgently.”

  Chapter Eight

  The Diary