by Mark Leggatt
A burst of fire came from under the car. A round caught Lara in the ankle and she fell back against the Land Rover. She returned fire, blood pumping from her leg as she slid back from the fender.
Montrose launched himself over the seat and reached out, dragging her back. She kept her pistol raised and steady.
The first man rolled out from behind the Mercedes and began to bring up his gun when Lara shot him square in the head. The breech on her gun slid back empty. He tumbled to the ground and lay still as the propellant smoke drifted across the lane.
A voice came from the open door of the Mercedes. “восемнадцать.” Kane stepped out from the rear door of the Mercedes. “Timing is everything.” He pointed the gun at Lara. “Drop it.”
She let the empty pistol fall from her hands.
Kane kicked it across the lane. “восемнадцать. Eighteen. The number of rounds in a Grach pistol. Or nineteen, if you’ve got one up the spout.” He nodded his head towards the first man lying beside the Mercedes. “Which he forgot.” He pointed the gun at Montrose. “Get out of the car. Hands on your head.” He flicked the gun towards Lara. “Right fucking now.”
Kirsty’s head emerged from under the blanket. She edged her shoulders between the front seats, then took out her iPhone, hit the camera function and slid it over the top of the seat. On the screen, she could see the guy in front of the Mercedes, a gun in his hand.
Montrose stepped from the Land Rover, supporting Lara by the arms.
Kane fired two shots into Lara’s chest. She slumped to the ground.
“No!”
“Now it’s just me and you, asshole. If I didn’t get you in the embassy, all I had to do was flush you out. The gatehouses are barred. Why do you think they blew a hole in the wall?” Kane held his ribs as he edged forward. “You damn near killed me. But I’m not dead yet.”
Neither am I. Montrose glanced down at Lara’s pistol. Empty. The bodies of the men lay beyond Kane. There was no way to get to their guns without going through him.
Kane’s features twitched as he walked.
You’re hurting. Come closer. Montrose dropped his hands to his side and edged closer to the side of the Land Rover.
Kane stopped. “Hands on your head. Now!”
“Fuck you. I haven’t got a gun.”
Kane smiled and held his pistol steady. “I’m gonna cut to the chase ‘cos I’m kinda busy today and I’m getting really pissed chasing you across town. We know what happened in the café. We know what she’s done. You’re just a pretty boy. Women, eh? Who gives a shit. Where is she?”
Kirsty tugged the blanket over her head and pushed herself between the seats, keeping below the high dashboard of the SUV. She braced her feet against the rear seat then grabbed the auto stick and tried to pull it back. It wouldn’t move. She looked down and realized that it wouldn’t engage unless the footbrake was pressed. She slithered between the seats and pushed her hand flat on the brake, then reached back and gently pulled the auto stick into drive. The Land Rover gave a slight shudder, but didn’t move. Keeping her whole weight on the brake, she pushed her hand across her chest and reached for the accelerator.
Montrose took a step forward. He could see the thick strapping under Kane’s shirt.
“Stay where you are.”
Montrose nodded towards Kane’s chest. “That’s gotta hurt.”
Kane grinned. “I can’t feel a thing.” He tapped his ribs. Montrose caught the flickering movement of his eyelid.
The noise of rotors filled the air and trees and bushes flattened in the lane. “The cavalry are coming.” Kane pushed his feet apart and widened his stance. “But not for you.”
They’ll find her. He felt his shoulders sag as the realization kicked home. There’s no choice. It ends here. He let out a long, slow breath then stretched up on his toes.
“I would kill you in a blink of an eye. You’re worthless to me. Now, you tell me where she is and you tell me right now or I’m going to empty this clip into your gut. One by one. Until you tell me. It takes a long time to die from stomach wounds, if you know what you’re doing and believe me, I do. And then you’ll be screaming for a medic. And you know, I’ll get you one, because I want you back in the States and I want to hit the switch and see you fucking fry in a chair like the traitor that you are.” Kane adjusted his grip on the pistol. “You betrayed your country. You went over to the Russians. People will be lining up to piss on your grave. But I’ll be the first. Now, I will ask you, one last time. Where is that bitch?”
Montrose felt his legs shaking. He’s going to shoot me whatever I do.
“I’m waiting.”
Montrose looked up to the sky.
“Tell me and tell me right fucking now.”
“You know,” said Montrose, “I met a man today. A brave man. And he said something to me just before he died.” The steady whump-whump of the chopper came closer. Leaves and dust blew around them as the chopper hovered over the gardens. Montrose raised his voice. “He said, if I had to choose between betraying my country and betraying my friends, I should hope I have the guts to betray my country.”
Kane leveled the pistol towards Montrose’s stomach. “Then you’re a dead man. But let’s see how brave you feel when your guts are ripped open.”
The engine of the Land Rover roared and it lurched forward. Kane tried to move, but the edge of the hood caught him in the chest and threw him to the side.
Montrose ran over and booted Kane in the face. Blood spurted from his mouth and he crumpled to the ground. Montrose searched around in the undergrowth for the gun.
Kirsty climbed into the driver’s seat. “Forget it! Go!”
The rotor wash blew him against the bodywork of the Land Rover. He tugged open the door and jumped in.
Kirsty hit the all-wheel drive button and jerked the stick into reverse. The Land Rover shot back a few yards until she stood on the brakes. She pointed to the Mercedes wedged across the exit. “Hold on. We’re going over.” She stamped on the gas and drove straight for the Mercedes, then at the last moment she swung the steering right and left and hit the Mercedes. The Land Rover’s engine screamed and the armored fender tore up the hood of the Mercedes, the front wheels scrambling for grip, until the rear tires caught onto the crumpled metal and launched them over the hood.
Montrose held on to the dashboard as Kirsty kept her foot hard to the floor and the Land Rover dropped down the other side of the Mercedes, pitching him forward. His head smacked the windshield and he was thrown back as Kirsty spun the steering to the right and headed for the gardens.
“That’s for the taxi,” she said. “Bloody hurts, doesn’t it?” She turned out of the lane, then stood on the brakes. A black helicopter hovered six feet from the grass. The pilot remained motionless behind aviator shades. At the cargo door, two men with automatic rifles leaned out. Montrose saw the missile tubes beneath the chopper. We’re covered. They’ll cut us down.
The chopper advanced slowly towards them.
“So, you wanna play chicken?” said Kirsty.
“No…”
She revved the engine. “A few more seconds and then he can’t use the missiles. He’ll be too close. You see them?”
“Yeah, listen...”
“A few more feet, come on, big boy!”
The chopper slowed.
Kirsty gripped the steering wheel. “Who’s got more to lose here? Me or him?” She floored the accelerator and the wheels spun, then found their grip. The Land Rover shot forward.
The look on the pilot’s face said it all. He pulled the stick hard, but the roof of the Land Rover caught the landing gear as it shot under the chopper and flipped the nose of the helicopter forward. The pilot reacted quickly, hauling the helicopter back.
Montrose saw the spinning tail rotor flash past his window as it crashed to the g
round and bounced. A piece of rotor blade flew past his nose and embedded like a knife in the glass.
Kirsty didn’t look behind, but drove straight for the trees and the park beyond.
Montrose twisted his neck and saw the helicopter pirouetting wildly, its tail rotor shattered, before it pitched to the side and smashed into the trees. “Get your head down!”
Shards of broken rotor blades and branches flashed past them and frosted the back windows.
Kirsty held on to the steering wheel and bounced over a road, scattering pedestrians in all directions.
Montrose brushed the broken glass from his pants. “Where are we going?”
An explosion kicked the Land Rover forward.
“North.”
“Where?”
“I’ve only got one idea left. Paddington.”
*
Kane rolled onto his back, screaming through the pain. He fumbled around in the pocket of his pants and brought out a pressurized syringe. He jabbed it into his stomach and held it firm. His head dropped back as the morphine kicked in and coursed through his veins. He grabbed a syringe from his other pocket and forced the amphetamines into his blood.
Campbell knelt beside him. “Sir, are you hurt?”
Kane’s pupils dilated and he looked up at Campbell. “Am I hurt?” His whole body began to tremble as the amphetamines took hold. “Campbell, when I’m finished with Montrose, I’m going to start on you.” He jerked his thumb towards the park. “Green Land Rover. Get them.”
Chapter 28
A Frisbee bounced off the windshield and the Land Rover ploughed straight through a flower bed. Kirsty headed for a gap in the trees. “I guess a stealthy exit is out of the question.” She leant on the horn and stuck her head out of the window. “Get out of the way!” The Land Rover slewed sideways across the grass and she pointed the hood towards the high railings and main road bordering the park. “We need to find a gate.”
His head cracked off the roof as the Land Rover bounced over a rockery. “Yeah, a normal road would be good.”
She craned her neck to look up at the sky. “We’ve got about four minutes before a copper in a chopper takes off and is all over us.”
Montrose held on to the grab handle on the dashboard as the Land Rover slewed past a group of picnic tables. “Just four? You know these things?”
“I know these things. It’s not the first time I’ve had to run from the Old Bill.”
Yeah, but it’s not the cops I’m worried about. They’re just the spotters. “There!” Montrose pointed to high ornate gates leading to the road.
“No, that’s blocked by a bollard. It’s a Land Rover, not a tank. Next one.” She turned right and weaved around a group of tourists running in all directions. “I got it. Check that road.”
Montrose tried to keep his head still as they bounced over the grass and through a row of bushes. In front was a tarmac road leading to a narrow gate. A Parks Department truck was slowly negotiating the gap and blocking the exit. The driver busied himself closing the gates.
Kirsty pulled the Land Rover onto the road and hit the gas.
Montrose pushed himself back in the seat. The Land Rover accelerated straight towards the truck. “Jesus, Kirsty, don’t!”
She stood on the brakes and slid to a halt in front of the truck, then hit the gas and slammed the hood of the Land Rover into the truck’s fender.
The driver ran to Montrose’s door.
“Point a gun at him,” said Kirsty. “I don’t have time for a chat.” She revved the engine and the Land Rover pushed the truck back through the gates.
“I don’t have a gun.”
“Then punch his fucking lights out, but don’t just sit there like a wet fart.”
The driver made a grab for the door and Montrose hit the lock.
“Stay out of this!” shouted Montrose. Or I’ll… shoot you.”
Kirsty gave him a look as the Land Rover pushed the van through the gates and across the sidewalk. “That’s possibly the most threatening statement I’ve ever heard.”
“Can we just get out of here?”
She jabbed the accelerator and the truck shot into the road. A black taxi locked all four wheels and slammed head-on into the truck. She threw the Land Rover to the left and joined the traffic.
“We’re heading back to the Embassy,” said Montrose. “Go south.”
“Not a chance. We need the back streets. Now.” The line of cars came to a halt and she looked around, ready to mount the curb.
“Kirsty, we need to get some speed up.” He peered out of the windshield towards the sky. “This isn’t going to work.”
She twisted the steering right as far as she could. “You’re right there, boyo. In a few minutes every copper, chopper and spook is going to seal this place tighter than a nun’s chuff. Containment zones, remember? And frankly, Connor, we either get off the streets or we’re dead meat.” She kept her eyes fixed on the oncoming traffic.
He saw a red double decker bus coming towards them. Montrose braced himself. “Kirsty!”
The Land Rover shot into a gap in the oncoming traffic. The bus squealed to a halt and caught the edge of the Land Rover, knocking them sideways. She held on tight to the wheel and headed for a side street. “Don’t worry, we’re going to the hospital.”
“What?”
“Just keep an eye out for the coppers. We’ve got about three minutes left.”
The Land Rover accelerated down the street, lined with parked cars and bordered by high apartment buildings. Montrose could hear sirens. He stuck his head out of the window, trying to gauge which direction they were coming from, when Kirsty turned off, down one street and then another.
“Two minutes.” she said.
“What hospital are you talking about?”
“Not far, just keep your eyes peeled.”
“What are we going to…?” Blue flashing lights appeared at the end of the road.
The Land Rover took a hard left and then right onto a broad avenue. Kirsty held a line in the middle of the road, weaving in and out of the traffic. “Enough with the back streets. We don’t have time.” She pointed through the windshield. “There!”
Montrose saw the grand, stuccoed façade of a railway station. “Paddington Station?”
“No, next door.”
He saw the sign for St Mary’s Hospital as Kirsty turned left, blasting the horn at a crowd of people heading for an Underground entrance.
“Down there. See that building on the corner? Red doors, three storeys high.”
He looked towards the railway sheds and saw a red brick building with wide doorways. “Got it.”
“The loading bays, are they boarded up?” She was watching both the taxis parked outside the station and the rear view mirror. “If they spot us now, we’ve had it.”
As they got closer he could see that all the doors were covered in metal sheets, fixed to pillars at each side. “Yeah. We’re not going to get through them.”
“Good news. That means it’s still deserted.”
“We’re going in there?”
“Yeah, but not through those doors. Hospital first. Up there.” She jabbed a finger up towards a line of windows. “That’s where they invented penicillin.” She slowed behind an ambulance and followed it into a car park.
“Yeah, great, but…”
“What? They’re the ones to thank for getting rid of the clap.”
“The clap?”
“V.D.” She tapped the steering wheel, as the ambulance pulled to the side. “You’re telling me you’ve never had a dose of the clap? Jeez, Connor, you need to get out more. Are you still a virgin?”
For once Montrose was dumbfounded.
She pulled the Land Rover into a parking slot. “We’re here. Follow me.” She threw open the door and ran to
the rear of the Land Rover. By the time Montrose had unfastened his seatbelt she was hauling a cyclist’s hi-vis vest from her bag. “Put this on. And bring those tools.”
He lifted the tool roll from a compartment in the trunk and grabbed the tire lever.
Kirsty pulled a few sheets of paper from the truck’s logbook and held them out in front of her. “If anyone asks, I’m the boss and we’re from the Town Council, here to check emissions, right?”
“Yeah, but…”
She ignored him and headed down an alley between two buildings. “Chin up. Act like a bored worker. Let’s go.”
Montrose followed her past temporary huts, lined with pipework, to a corner where a rusting iron ladder was pinned to a wall. Kirsty threw the papers aside and scaled the ladder. He tucked the tool roll into his waistband and grabbed the rungs, hauling himself up. The sound of sirens came closer and he could see the gleaming new railway sheds behind Paddington Station as he scanned the sky for a helicopter. “Kirsty, we go up there and they’re going to…”
She didn’t look back. “Then we’d better be bloody quick. Chop chop!” She clambered on to the top of the wall and held out a hand to pull him up.
“Kirsty, that’s a mainline railway station. They’re gonna target it and then they’ll find the Land Rover.”
She turned and ran across the roof. “Good. That’ll keep them busy.”
They find the Land Rover and they will tear this place apart. He saw her scramble over a wall onto an adjoining roof.
Montrose could see blue lights flashing, converging on the station.
“Connor! Move it!”
He ran over and pulled himself over the wall. She was standing beside a small brick hut set into the roof with a graffiti-covered wooden door. “Kirsty, they’re gonna close that station in seconds.”
“They certainly will. But we’re not taking the train. Well, not the one you mean.”
“Where are we going? We need to either get the hell out or stay low.”
She pointed at the roof below her. “This is the old Royal Mail Sorting Office for Paddington Station. Closed down and sold off. That’s the place I pointed out to you. We used to hold illegal raves there, but they boarded the place up. We need to be in there. I know what I’m looking for.” She pointed to the tools. “Okay, Mr. Muscles. Do your thing.”
