Milieu Dawn

by Malcolm Franks

What surprised Matt most about this land of the Chinese dragon was the energy sapping heat, closely followed by the oppressive humidity. He’d like to have thought the water pouring out of his body from every pore could be described as perspiration, but he knew that wasn’t true. The only saving grace was the fact he was alone, unable to share the unique scent emanating from his body with anyone else in the small jeep.

  The rattle of the diesel engine continued to play a worrying tune as he drove further into the interior. Clouds of dust threw up behind him as he hurtled along the dirt road, the tall grass at the sides disturbed by his speed and violent manoeuvring to keep the vehicle on track. Matt wasn’t completely sure of his precise position on the trail, all the villages and shanty houses looked much the same as each other. All he did know was that he was getting ever closer to his destination.

  To describe the people living in the area as poor would have been an overstatement. And they were mostly old. The youth of the vicinity had long left for the great cities in search of a better life. Matt couldn’t believe any Government would be content to allow the remainder of the population to live in such paltry conditions.

  He glanced at the fuel gauge and decided it was time to stop and refuel. The needle remained some distance from zero, but as it hadn’t moved for some considerable time it was better to be sure. His mode of transport was anything but a new model, and the last thing he needed was to break down in the middle of nowhere. Whilst China had come a long way in the last few years, vehicle recovery organisations out in the belly of this beastly country were non-existent. As he’d entered illegally, ringing for roadside assistance was hardly the smartest idea anyway.

  Matt hadn’t expected to enter the country this easily. Once again Gratia had come up trumps, putting Matt in touch with Hang Chi. The man had arranged everything; from discreetly organising the transport to the weapons and provisions he needed for the job.

  Lifting the ill-fitting cap from its tenuous hold, Matt raised the jerry can and emptied its contents into the tank. That left three remaining cans. Two would probably be enough to get him back, though he always preferred to compensate for the unforeseen.

  Matt was about to spark the engine back into life when he heard the noise of an approaching vehicle. None of the locals had any form of mechanised transport, so the sound signalled danger. He was closer than he thought.

  He searched for cover. There was nothing in front and little else behind. Feelings of panic tore into his nerves. He had to clear his mind and think, fast. Forward wasn’t an option. The engine fired and he rammed the gear into reverse. Turning his head to look at the road behind, the jeep shot from its position and hurtled backwards.

  For several yards he adroitly negotiated the bend at high speed. Once or twice he thought he’d lost control and was set to career off the trail. Somehow, he kept on track. The second bend slipped by and he saw an opening.

  “Keep it steady,” he told himself. “Now, do it!”

  The jeep turned ninety degrees and catapulted backwards, bouncing through tall grass into the undergrowth. By jamming the brakes hard and turning the steering wheel to the right the jeep settled, pointing in the direction he had come, a few feet from the road.

  Matt leapt from the cab and ran towards his entry point. Hacking at the tree with a machete, a small branch loosened and he snapped it free. Hurriedly, he used it to sweep away the imprints his tyres had made in the dust at the side of the track, and ran back to the jeep.

  He watched as the British-built four by four drifted by. There were four figures inside, all of them male and carrying weapons. More than likely they were employed as part of Chen’s bodyguard entourage. Matt watched them disappear around the corner, unaware of his presence, and breathed a huge sigh of relief.

  He waited for some time before snatching the rucksack from the rear seat. Covering his head with the camouflaged hat he started the long walk back to his original position. The last thing he needed, in this stifling heat, was to have to climb manually up the steep bank to get to the top. But there was no other choice, it had to be done.

  Five hours had passed before Matt returned to the jeep, to make final preparations for the one man assault on Chen’s hideaway. The place had been far closer than he had realised, just over the other side of the steep rise into the valley below. It was more like a five star hotel rather than the ramshackle retreat he was expecting, completely out of place against the backdrop of abject poverty everywhere else in the vicinity. Matt had changed position several times to fully explore the area, using the powerful binoculars to examine in detail both the building layout and the surrounding grounds.

  A wooden hut signalled the entrance to a long drive, where two uniformed guards were housed by the barrier. The land around was flat and open, caged by a wire perimeter fence, six feet high and approximately two hundred yards from the main residence. Surprisingly there weren’t any CCTV cameras at or around the outer fence, a real bonus.

  He counted five security personnel located at designated positions of the building’s exterior, an unusually light amount though there was likely an equal number housed inside. One other guard, probably a supervisor, toured the grounds at two hourly intervals. There would be a duplicate of him inside and servants too.

  The long white walled front of the building was accessed by two sets of steps, separated by a flat patio area. The steps were decorated by small ornate pillars at the sides. The second set led to a veranda entirely circling the residence and covered by a number of individual awnings. Pockets of empty tables and chairs bedecked the veranda at regular intervals, as if they were outside cafe areas. No doubt used by guests dependent upon where the sun was positioned in the sky.

  Four storeys in total, ugly stone gargoyle heads protruded from the walls at uneven intervals, in marked contrast to the sculptured windows equally placed along the walls. There was a balcony attached to each of the rooms above the first floor. The rooms were more executive suites, comprising large bed chambers with en-suite facilities and even larger sitting rooms. And the decor could only be described as extravagant, a picture of western capitalism in all its opulent glory.

  Irony didn’t come close. The original architects behind the Milieu conspiracy made their plans because they believed the world’s resources were under threat from over-population, too many people and insufficient natural materials with which to sustain meaningful life in the medium to long terms. Yet here, in the heart of nowhere, every luxury was amply evident.

  Despite the many hours of observation there was no sign of Catherine Vogel, causing Matt to wonder if she were here at all. He had spotted what looked like a small meeting, in one of the large ground floor rooms, but some of the complement had been obscured from view. Most of the talking came from an elderly Chinese man. Small and round, little remained of his hair covering. He could only be Chen. Had Matt not briefly returned to Victoria to review the USB then he would never have known the location of Chen’s private country residence.

  The sun had set, time for Matt to make his move. A full moon lit up the landscape. Whilst this would make passage easier it would also provide limited cover for his approach over the grounds to the building. Before setting off, Matt placed one of the full jerry cans by the tree opposite the road. Then he began to make the steady uphill trek through the undergrowth to the target.

  Clouds had partially obscured the moon by the time he’d arrived. Settling into position he raised the binoculars to his eyes and began to revisit every room. If he couldn’t locate Vogel then Matt determined to abandon the mission. All of the second floor sitting rooms were lit, throwing rays of light from the windows out into the darkness. He started at the far side and worked his way along. There were no human forms in clear sight from his position.

  A movement at the end window to the front of the residence caught his eye. A figure had risen from the luxurious couch and placed a newspaper on the office desk. The female form was tall and slim, dressed in fawn casual slacks cover
ed by a loose-fitting white blouse on which her yellowish blonde hair rested over the shoulders. Her head turned and he magnified the viewfinder. Catherine Vogel.

  Now he knew she was being held here, and the precise location of her internment. Her frame looked thinner than how he remembered from their last encounter. The shape of her face also appeared gaunt and haunted. Captivity did not sit well with Catherine. She turned sharply as the door to her room opened. Chen stood at the threshold and Matt watched as they exchanged words, a short and terse conversation. There was no warmth to the brief discussion and Chen soon left.

  Stealthily he made his way, heart pounding as he brushed through the long grass. He could feel the adrenalin coursing through his veins and his nerve ends tingled with anticipation over the uncertainty set to follow. Fear added to his sense of excitement, making him believe he possessed the limitless power of a superhero.

  He arrived at the perimeter fence and checked his watch. The supervisor would be finishing his round. A quick search with the binoculars confirmed it. Cutting away an opening in the wire he clambered through. Matt crouched as he scurried in short bursts the two hundred yard distance to the side wall of the impressive building, pausing frequently to check for any unexpected movement. Breathing deeply, he rested his back against the white stone. There were no noises, no sounds of movement.

  Turning to his left he made for the corner of the residence, where one of the guards should be on patrol. He looked up and saw a smoking cigarette directly above, on the veranda. Ash fell on to his shoulder, soon followed by the lighted stub flicked onto the ground in front of him. Matt stood, rooted to the spot, hardly daring to breathe. A noise told him the guard had moved away from the veranda. He could hear footsteps coming down the concrete steps. Which way would he turn?

  He decided to make sure. Picking a fist-sized piece of stone from the ground, Matt waited until the man neared ground level and then tossed it to the side. The sound of the stone hitting the ground caused the guard to turn and investigate.

  The point of the machine gun came into view first. Then the figure loomed into view. Matt grabbed at the barrel and jerked it towards him. Before the guard could respond, Matt rammed the serrated blade into the man’s neck, under the jaw, and just as quickly withdrew it.

  Blood gurgled urgently from the wound. The guard’s hands shook violently. Then he dropped the weapon and slumped to the floor.

  It took more effort than Matt wanted to expend, pulling the corpse into the shadows to hide it from view. He retrieved the shoulder holstered weapon but left the machine gun with the body.

  Taking each step of the stairs slowly in turn, Matt neared the back door and made for the edge of the building. Silently, he climbed to the first floor ledge, using the small adorning sculptures cemented to the wall, for leverage. Picking his way round to the balcony outside Vogel’s suite, he hoisted himself over the railing. Ahead, two beams of light shone upwards at the front end of the residence, courtesy of the two powerful searchlights planted into the gravel drive. They were too far away to reveal his presence.

  Matt retrieved the glass cutter from the haversack and cut away an opening above the handle on the other side. Within moments he was inside the darkened bed chamber, poised at the door to the sitting room. The handle turned and the door opened. In one seamless movement Matt forced her fingers away from the switch with one hand while the other covered her mouth. Her natural reaction was to scream so he tightened his grip.

  “Catherine, be silent. It’s Matt,” he whispered.

  Her body immediately relaxed and he released his hold over her mouth.

  “Matt, what are you doing here?” she asked.

  “Getting you out; you’ve got two minutes to get dressed,” he said, pulling two items of dark clothing from the sack.

  She needed no urging, instantly releasing the buttons of her blouse.

  “Where is Chen?” he asked.

  “Next room along,” she replied. “Tanaka is in the next one along.”

  “Tanaka’s here, in China?”

  “Yes.”

  “Take five minutes,” he said, “Switch the en-suite light on then the sitting room off.”

  She hurried to complete his instruction while he rescued a pillow from the bed. Catherine nodded as the bathroom light went on and he began to slip out of the bedroom door.

  “Matt, be careful,” she said.

  He smiled and disappeared through the door. The hallway was empty, unbelievably so. There were no cameras in sight. He darted two doors down and turned the handle. Sliding into the room Matt noticed a set of feet hanging over one end of the sofa. He smothered the gun in the pillow and neared the target. A surprised Japanese face lifted up and stared. This had to be Tanaka. He raised the smothered weapon and fired. The body fell backwards, rolled off the furniture and hit the floor. Matt rounded the sofa and fired again into the prone figure to make sure. Task duly completed, Matt returned to the door and checked out the hallway. The area remained clear.

  He moved on to the next suite in line. Silently, he stole inside. There was no-one to be seen. The sound of a running tap persuaded him to move closer to the en-suite. He forced the gun into the pillow, counted to two and then swung round into view. Chen heard the noise and swivelled around with a toothbrush glued inside his open mouth. The bullet arrowed into his forehead and he tumbled back against the tiled wall before sliding to the ground. Matt confirmed the kill before tossing the pillow aside.

  He was about to leave when he spotted the computer screen and walked over. Matt recognised the Milieu files. He opened the drawer underneath and searched through the contents. His hand touched a USB. A brief examination revealed a huge memory capacity. He pushed it into the port and started to inspect the file registry of the computer. Highlighting as many files as he could, Matt promptly copied them onto the portable device. The whole process took several minutes, longer than he intended.

  Catherine was ready by the time he returned.

  “It is done?”

  “Yes”

  “Both of them?” she asked in surprise.

  “Yes, time to go,” he urged.

  Catherine didn’t ask how they were to make their escape, just followed obediently. He opened the door to the balcony, reached for her hand and led her over to the edge. He pointed to the gargoyle heads jutting out from the wall

  “You trust me, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then believe me when I say you can do this, okay?”

  Matt doubted she could, it was the only option. Stepping over the balcony railing he gripped her hand tightly to provide further assurance. Catherine showed far more athleticism than he’d given her credit for, easily negotiating this first hurdle to their escape. She watched intently as he started to descend the stepping points. He stopped after the first few and looked up towards her. She nodded and then, with feline grace, aped his every move. So sure-footed was Catherine they reached the veranda in no time at all.

  “You are full of surprises,” he said in admiration.

  She smiled wryly, to imply she had capabilities far greater than he expected. He found it inwardly amusing, realising he was prone to underestimating the female of the species.

  The two fugitives scampered across the open ground, Vogel following from behind. They had covered most of the distance when he heard her stumble.

  “Catherine, are you okay?”

  “Keep going,” she said.

  Matt pulled back the loosened fence and allowed her to slip through the gap before following from behind.

  “There’s a long way to go yet,” he said.

  She nodded in between gasps.

  “I’m not stopping now,” she panted.

  Leading the way, he tugged firmly at her hand to induce her to keep up to his speed. They were almost at the top of the rise when he heard her fall again.

  “My ankle,” she said. “I can’t put any weight on it.”

  He slipped off the haversa
ck and handed it to her.

  “Put this on,” he ordered.

  Matt knelt in front of her and held out his arms to allow her to straddle his back. The final feet to the top of the rise were energy sapping. He had to keep going. They were on the point of making the downward trek when they heard the first sirens sounding into the night. He turned to see a series of powerful beams lighting up the darkness. In the distance, the noise of urgent voices echoed through the night. Now they were up against it.

  “Forget the pain and run.”

  Catherine got her second wind during the descent. Perhaps it was the fear of being recaptured. Either way, she kept pace with Matt all the way to the bottom. He carried her on the final stage as they raced along the flat and winding trail.

  Bundling Catherine unceremoniously into the back of the jeep, he leapt behind the wheel and turned the key. Jamming into first gear, Matt pushed hard against the pedal. The vehicle responded by spinning its left wheel. He tried again and was met with the same sound of a tyre unable to grip the sodden ground.

  “Shit!”

  They were stuck. In one of the warmest, stiflingly humid parts of the world he had ever come across they were trapped in mud, of all things.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Which Plan is this?