Forty minutes went by before Catherine reappeared. The shirt happened to be a size too large, which proved to be a blessing. The garment rested so lightly over his frame he could barely feel the touch of denim against his skin. She offered to help him fix the buttons but he chose to struggle alone.
“Hank has arrived,” she said, looking out of the window.
Matt wondered if Scurrelli would kill him now or leave it until they were out of Catherine’s line of sight. The door burst open to the American’s gleeful face.
“Got them,” he bellowed.
Catherine turned to Matt.
“Will can take you to the airport now.”
“We’ll do it,” demanded Scurrelli.
“Your job is done, Hank. This man is our responsibility.”
“No chance,” he hissed. “We’re taking him. End of story.”
Matt could see she the exchange had angered her. Scurrelli clearly outranked Catherine and this obviously rankled. The American’s insistence also confirmed to Matt what he should expect from the forthcoming journey.
“It’s alright, Catherine. A ride is a ride.”
Her burning eyes snapped onto Matt’s face. She hadn’t wanted him to agree so readily.
“The deal with Gratia and the others still holds though, doesn’t it?” he said to her.
She nodded. Matt tried to rise from the chair, succeeding only in sprawling over the desk as his feet gave way. She made to help him, but he refused.
“I have to try and do this alone,” he said. “The movement will help get some strength back into my body.”
Scurrelli sneered from the doorway as Matt tried again. He knew what was coming, so to get any sort of mobility into his limbs was going to be important.
“There is an agreement, Hank,” said Catherine.
The Dracula-like lips widened into a smile but spoke no words. While the two stared blackly at each other, Matt used the uncomfortable silence to his advantage. Placing his body between the printer and the camera, he sneaked the two pieces of paper from the tray and folded them into his pants.
“Use the car,” demanded Catherine of the triumphant American.
Through the corner of his eye, Matt saw her glance towards Cole. Matt steadied himself and walked uncertainly towards the door, baby steps was the best he could do. Once outside he was surrounded by Scurrelli’s people. Catherine followed a short distance behind.
Matt not so much entered as was bundled into the back seat, bringing the deep seated pains his mind had tried to suppress back to the surface. He tried to acknowledge Catherine with some sort of wave of the hand. Matt doubted she saw. Two brutes boarded to either side, slamming the doors to a close. Within seconds they were on the open road.
Matt estimated the airport to be a thirty minute journey, once he’d found his bearings. Less than fifteen had passed before the large saloon pulled off the road, edging down a dirt lane into a wooded area until they were well out of view from the road.
The rear doors sprang open and one of the brutes started to exit. Matt turned his head to watch the bulk disappear. A blow landed at the back of Matt’s neck. His mind seemed to want to think about it. Then, in the blink of an eye, he succumbed to an unwanted daze.
Matt started to come round when he felt the first of the impacts. His weakened body crashed against the massive casing of the tall tree. He dropped onto all fours, aware of a nearby standing figure. Matt didn’t see Scurrelli’s booted foot crashing into his ribs. He certainly felt it. No sooner had the effects of the first blow dulled when he felt another. It hammered into his body in much the same area as the first and thought he could hear snapping bone. Curled tightly in the foetal position, Scurrelli sought to open Matt up by landing a heavy blow to the small of the back.
It worked. Matt reacted to the impact by straightening his legs and rolling over. He gasped for air, desperately trying to convince his mind the pain wouldn’t last long. Any thought of fighting back had been beaten out of his mind. A gloved hand gripped at his hair and jerked his head back.
“No smart ass remarks come to mind, Durham,” yelled Scurrelli into his face.
Somehow, Matt managed to get to a tree stump. The sheer exertion drained at his will to continue living. He propped his back against the grainy surface and stared into the American’s triumphant eyes.
“No point, Hank,” he gasped. “You’re not clever enough to understand.”
Scurrelli’s sneer turned into one of open rage. Fury gripped the muscles in his face. He rammed a hand inside his jacket and produced a handgun. The American’s arm straightened as he pointed the weapon directly at Matt’s head. Then his hand dropped away.
“You better do it,” he snarled to one of his aides. “I’m under orders.”
The brute of a man raised a chunky arm to his chest, freeing his weapon from its holster. Matt closed his eyes to shut out the pain. He would have been interested to read what was on the print out. Then again, it didn’t seem important now.
Matt had taken enough, done all he could. Someone else would have to take up the fight. His mind urged him to show them no fear. He re-opened his weary eyes and looked into the barrel of the gun.
There was no sound from the big man as he collapsed to the ground. His legs just gave way underneath him. The one next to the would-be assassin followed suit, as silently as his comrade. Scurrelli hadn’t grasped what was going on. His last aide had. He wasn’t quick enough to avoid the incoming missile of death. The bullet punctured his heart.
The remaining American finally responded and unsheathed his weapon, dropping on to one knee and turning constantly in circles as he peered between the thick trees. The next shot was aimed to perfection, smashing right through Scurrelli’s elbow.
The weapon tumbled free as he cried out. It didn’t take long for the look of pain to vanish. The Dracula-like grin Matt had always associated with the American was quickly replaced by one of fear. He knew what was coming, the wooden stake through the heart.
A rustle of leaves announced Will Cole’s emergence. He walked sedately over to Scurrelli’s fearful stare. Cole kicked away the fallen weapon and towered over the now silenced torturer.
“Catherine wants me to give you something,” he said to the American.
The sound of the blowpipe rang out and echoed through the stilled atmosphere of the woodland. Scurrelli fell backwards. Matt saw blood trickling gently from the hole in his forehead. He wondered what was in store for him. Cole approached and dropped to his haunches. He placed a hand below Matt’s chest, causing him to wince sharply.
“Rib,” he said. “You need to get that seen to. Doubt you’ll be flying any planes for a while.”
The new arrival grinned. Strangely, Matt felt no fear of his presence. He actually liked the man.
“Take a few minutes to get some strength back, then we’ll go,” added Will.
The man was so calm, ultra confident and in control. Matt had to let the question loose.
“Did Catherine really ask you to do that?”
“Yep,” he replied.
“Catherine?”
A sharp glint entered Will’s eyes.
“You have no idea. She’s one tough lady, a born leader. Take my word for it. No-one wants to be on the wrong side of Catherine Vogel. Just ask Hank.”
The humour was wasted on Matt, slumped there, visibly confused.
“Then why … me …”
“God knows. Seems Catherine’s got a soft spot for you,” he replied. “It’s as much a surprise to me as it is to you. Not that it’s you, but because she’s never been inclined that way to anyone before.”
Now Matt was intrigued by the print out. There had to be something on there which could make sense of this, provide an explanation for Catherine’s erratic behaviour towards him. Will fell back onto the seat of his pants and looked Matt in the eye.
“Thanks,” said Matt, motioning with his eyes towards the dead bodies.
The other man grinned.
; “No hardship,” he said. “I never liked the bastard anyway. Forever up his own arse was Mr Scurrelli. No-one’s likely to miss him much.”
The question returned to Matt’s mind. Why was Catherine intent on keeping him alive?
“How will she explain this away?” he asked.
The response was quicker than expected.
“You’ve developed a bit of a reputation, for somehow getting yourself out of tight and impossible situations.”
“No-one’s going to believe I was capable of taking down all four. Not in my condition.”
A weapon tossed onto the ground. Matt examined the instrument of death with his eyes and was puzzled.
“Lily’s gun,” said Will.
“Who is Lily?”
“She’s the one member of the Berchesgaden assault team you kept alive. You left her weapon in the SUV. So I kept it. Spare ordnance often comes in handy. No-one frisked you on arrival. The assumption will be you had it concealed from view.”
Matt felt a twinge of pain and groaned slightly. He coughed uncomfortably as he tried to adjust his position. Cole reached across to help him sit up better.
“There’s no hurry. Take as long as you need,” he said.
Matt closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pain. Had he been alone, he was sure his mind would have conceded his body to the afterlife already. He reflected on his acquiescence to his foes. Cole seemed to sense what was on his mind.
“It was the right call,” he said.
“You would say that. Your side won.”
“Murdering over half the world population isn’t much of a win. It’s certainly nothing to write home about.”
“Then why don’t you fight it,” said Matt
Will shook his head.
“Catherine’s right, if it’s going to happen then we need to be involved. The likes of Scurrelli saw this as an opportunity to settle all manners of old scores and obliterate people left, right and centre. If it was down to him and his kind there’d be virtually no-one left to populate the planet.”
Matt looked puzzled.
“What are you saying?”
Will looked him straight in the eye.
“With Catherine, more people will get a chance to live.”
“How?” he asked.
“Nearly every Government on the planet wants their slums cleared. All of them want evil off their streets and organised crime defeated once and for all. The West would also prefer to reduce the burden of the elderly and illegal immigration on the public purse. Catherine’s input has initiated an age revision, and a geographical rethink.”
Matt’s head sank back against the bark of the tree. Perhaps she had a point all along. If it couldn’t be stopped the next best thing was to try and moderate its impact. Catherine had tried to tell him this, he now realised. Instead of listening to her he’d closed his mind.
“Christ,” he said.
“What’s on your mind?”
“I don’t know who the good or the bad guys are anymore,” said Matt.
The comment caused Will to laugh out loud.
“Now you’re starting to get the hang of things. I thought you’d get there eventually.”
Matt tried to smile, succeeding only in allowing the pain to resurface.
“Come on,” he said. “I can’t sit here all day.”
Will helped Matt to his feet and propped him up as they walked away from the four corpses.
“I’m still going to break your neck when I get better,” said Matt. “Taking advantage of Jenna was bad enough, choosing to slag her off amongst your mates is unforgivable.”
His companion appeared untroubled by the threat.
“Yeah, like I’m going to tell Scurrelli anything. Jenna and I are way too solid for me to do that.”
The angel and the assassin, thought Matt. Somehow it had a ring to it.
“Tell me,” said Will. “Did you ever get the better of Rosa, one on one, when she was putting you through your paces in hand-to-hand combat?”
“No, why?” replied Matt.
Will sort of shrugged.
“She’s never beaten me,” he said with a confident grin. “I thought I’d better mention it, just in case you get any daft ideas.”
“Rosa said she was the best.”
“Second best,” said Will.
Matt had slept most for most of the flight. Physical exhaustion had finally got the better of him. There was little more than an hour to their destination. He concentrated his mind to focus on the print copy.
Hank will be with you shortly, said the first typed line.
I want the chance to bring him in, said the next.
You have until Hank arrives. Security is his field.
Matt guessed the second line was Catherine’s. He read on
Stop this.
Why?
Physical pain is not the answer.
Hank is quarterbacking.
He will be dead before we get what we need.
The man has a choice.
I can give him a better one. And you said his death would be a waste.
Okay. One shot.
Matt imagined the exchange, as if they were spoken words. There were many ways to interpret any given conversation, and this one appeared straightforward enough. Nevertheless, Matt got the impression Catherine was doing everything she could to protect him. He returned to the text.
It is a small price.
On condition he gives up everything.
Thank You.
Chapter Forty
The Gift
Milieu Dawn Page 39
