by A. S. French
She parked between the mansion and the warehouse.
‘Is there any security outside?’ Astrid prepared to slip out of the vehicle.
‘There’s two in front of the mansion carrying rifles. They’re looking at me.’
‘Good. Go over and distract them.’
Astrid heard Rosie get out and listened as she plodded over the gravel. Tiny stones crunched under her feet as she raised her voice.
‘Is my brother home?’
Astrid didn’t hear the reply as she slipped from the back and fell into the shadows between the buildings. In the illumination splashed across the ground, Rosie wobbled on her high heels, and her ankle turned. She yelled as the guard reached down to catch her, and Astrid sneaked around to the rear of the warehouse.
She crept into the gloom, pushing against the building. To her right was the back of the mansion and with fewer lights than out front. Security patrolled that area, but they didn’t look where she was. She moved along the edge of the wall and hunted for the unlocked door Rosie had promised would be there.
And she was right. Astrid pushed it open. Gloom engulfed the inside: just how she wanted it. She scanned the place, searching for the spot from her previous visit. She found the office and headed for it, making sure there was no one in the warehouse.
When she reached the door, she breathed a sigh of relief. What she hoped would be there, what she’d seen when she was frogmarched inside the building, was still there: rows of oil drums. She unscrewed the top from the closest and tilted it on to its side. A trail of dark liquid dribbled from the barrel as she moved away. The overpowering aroma grasped at her lungs as she delved into her pocket and removed the silver lighter she’d taken from Jim’s apartment. She stared at the inscription on the back of it.
To the greatest love of my life. From Lisa to Jim.
She checked the time on her phone: it was one minute to four. She waited until the digital hands ticked around: 4am. Witching Hour for interrogations, night abductions, and sneak attacks all over the world.
The flame from the lighter flickered in her hand as thick metal crashed into the back of her leg. Her body shook as if plugged into an electric socket as she crumbled and toppled to the floor. She missed the encroaching oil slick by inches and dropped the lighter to the side of it. Somehow a spark hissed its way from the top of the metal, and the dark liquid slithered towards it. Astrid reached for it, but instinct told her to roll away and through the oil. As it stuck to her clothes, the pipe struck the ground where she’d lain, and sparks exploded from the concrete. She watched them illuminate a murky patch of air as she turned to see her attacker.
One of the Jones boys grinned at her. He spoke through crooked teeth.
‘I’m going to enjoy this.’ He slapped the metal against his palm.
The pain continued to surge through her as she got to her feet.
‘Are you Chuck or Buck? It’s hard to tell with you Dunce Brothers.’
His grin vanished into the darkness as the thick oil crawled towards the misfiring lighter. He didn’t appear to have noticed their impending doom, but she was well aware of it. He was between her and escape, so she’d have to go through him.
He pointed the metal at her.
‘Chuck’s in the hospital with Jimmy. We know what you did to him. You’re evil, lady.’
‘If you don’t move out of the way, Buck, I’ll do the same to you.’
She kept one eye on him and the other on the encroaching fireball. She guessed they had less than a minute to get out of the warehouse.
‘How could you do those things to Jimmy? You’re a monster, and I’m going to punish you.’
Astrid ignored the stabbing pain in her guts. ‘Just like you punished Caitlin Cruz and her children? You made those kids watch their mother die a horrible death, and then did the same to them. There’s only one monster here, Buck, and that’s you.’
She watched the briefest flicker of guilt behind his eyes as he lowered the pipe. That was the prompt she needed. She threw herself across the ground, cold concrete cutting into her legs as it ripped through her trousers, before pushing the sole of her shoe into his shin. The crack of bone snapped through the building as she jumped up and sprinted for the door. His scream rang out as the sparks from the lighter kissed the oil and lit the flame. The blaze erupted instantaneously, the heat hunting her down as smoke engulfed the building like a vast smothering carpet.
Astrid staggered from the warehouse as the flames reached for her, fighting back the cough threatening to choke her lungs. She shook the lead from her legs and crept to the rear of the mansion as the fire rushed towards its inevitable conclusion. The barking of dogs was on the other side of the grounds, leaving her free to reach her destination.
She leant against the wall, catching a breath as she peered at her target. Astrid gripped on to the metal and dug her fingers into the sides. She was halfway up the drainpipe when the explosion ripped open the warehouse. As a kid, she’d climbed up every structure where she lived, including clambering over spiked fences and along the narrowest of ledges, so a set of skinny pipes at the back of the building was no challenge to her. She was across the rooftop and at the bottom of the second-floor pipe when the compound erupted into a volcano of exploding oil drums and vape machines.
Panicked security guards scrambled everywhere, but she knew those were only the grunts, the outside protectors. Those inside the mansion would be unmoving, refusing to shift from what they protected. She’d reached the second floor and the roof beneath the attic when a large explosion turned the sky into a fireworks display worthy of Pompeii.
The wind flicked at her face, the chill of the night making the hairs on the back of her neck jump up. There was no pipe up to the top and the attic, but a ledge and handholds in the bricks were there for her to climb. All she hoped was Rosie had unlocked the window.
She grabbed hold of a disused light fitting and lifted her leg onto the narrow ledge a foot above. Behind her were the combined noises of frantic shouting, howling dogs and roaring flames. The smell of burning plastic and unknown chemicals drifted over her. A clutch of fumes flew into her mouth, and she had to steady herself as she coughed them out. If anyone glanced up, it would seem as if a human spider was scaling the walls.
Astrid ignored the noise and the stink, peering up to the next indent in the wall. Scarred fingers reached up and found the gap, the tips of her feet perched on the thin lip of concrete supporting her. With her other hand, she grabbed onto the ledge and dragged herself up, getting both hands on to the shelf to roll her body along the length of it. She lay flat, her legs and torso barely staying on the ledge as her heart pounded against her ribs.
She needed to raise herself and pull the window open, but she didn’t move, gathering her thoughts and breath. Huge bursts of smoke drifted over from the blazing warehouse. It provided some cover, but the toxic gases also played havoc with her lungs. Astrid glanced to her right and peered through the gloom. From what she could see, the fire was too severe for anyone to get close to it, but she was surprised nobody had attacked it with water yet.
Perhaps the blaze will be enough to prevent the President’s entourage from coming here.
She couldn’t take that risk and had to rescue Eleanor. She grabbed the window and raised herself. The wind bit at her cheeks as she placed one foot in front of the other. She pressed her face against the glass, breathing a sigh of relief at the unlocked catch. The tips of her fingers were prising the window open when the explosion went off below her.
Whatever else was in that warehouse erupted like Krakatoa. The mansion shook and rattled, a great plume of smoke and heat devouring the night sky. The blast would have blown her from the ledge if she hadn’t got a hand and one leg inside as it exploded. The force threw her forward and into the attic, crashing her headfirst into a rocking horse and a bunch of discarded children’s toys.
Astrid rolled off a set of building blocks and on to the floor. She stared into the
rafters and picked pieces of wood from the back of her jacket. She pressed her ear to the ground and listened: it was silent below. No matter the confusion she’d caused outside, the security wasn’t panicking inside the mansion. It was what she’d expected.
She got up and checked her pockets to make sure the presents she’d brought from Moore’s apartment were still there. Once she’d confirmed they were, she went to the door. Rosie had told her there was a set of stairs leading from the attic to the second floor, coming out in front of the suite where she expected to find Campbell.
Astrid inched open the door. There were three armed guards below, two peering away from the room and one staring towards it. They must have heard the commotion outside, but they were doing their best to ignore it. She was about to change all that.
She turned to the back of the attic, searching for what she’d found on the map online. If it weren’t there, she’d have to come up with an alternative plan. She thought that might be the case when all she discovered were boxes of books and more toys, but when she moved them away, she saw what she wanted: the opening for a service hatch.
Astrid wiped the dust from the front and slid it open. It seemed it was a long time since it had been used to move goods between the floors, but she hoped the wire and pulley system still worked. She turned her phone torch on and peered into the square shape. The cables were on her right; apart from that, it was empty.
She’d discovered similar transport systems in several stately homes and former Royal palaces during her European assignments. She understood how they worked, and she knew how noisy they could be. To reach the ground and the library, she’d have to go by the second-floor suite and the goons inside. Even with the racket outside the house, there was no way some security wouldn’t hear the mechanism descending as she pulled on those wires. So she needed to give them something else to think about.
Astrid returned to the attic door and peaked out again: the security was still there. She reached into her jacket and removed a box of matches and the firecrackers she’d taken from Moore’s apartment. She lit one and threw it at the two guards outside the door. She was leaping at the third guy when the firecracker blasted into their faces.
Bone cracked, and the goon’s nose exploded as her palm met his face. He fired instinctively, bringing the rifle round in an arc and spraying the corridor with bullets. She was crouching on the floor at that point, focused on the shooter and not his colleagues, who he’d just splattered against the suite. She took the knife from her boot and stuck it into his throat. It wasn’t enough to kill him as he slumped to one side, finger still pressed on the trigger firing into the door.
Astrid tossed more firecrackers on to the first floor before running into the attic and to the hatch. She climbed in and closed it behind her. It was a snug fit with her back tight against the panel. She pulled on the wires and hoped they still worked. Gunfire ricocheted through the mansion as she dropped, the wood creaking under the strain. As she passed the suite, she glimpsed through a gap in the wall what was happening inside. Everyone had moved from the door; their weapons pointed forward as they surrounded Campbell. There were at least a dozen men there.
She descended past the first level, which appeared empty, then reached the bottom and the ground-floor library. Thankfully, the service hatch was at the back, away from the only people she saw: two guards focused on the door. When she shifted her gaze through the gap, she observed Benedict Sawyer sitting at a desk without a care in the world.
How will I get out of here and across the room before they turn and shoot me?
Astrid reached into her pocket in search of another distraction, but she was out of firecrackers.
24 Curtain Call
Astrid pressed her face against the gap in the service hatch. A breeze drifted down from where she’d come, bringing smoke and fire into her lungs. She held her breath and waited, peering out at Benedict Sawyer sitting at the desk. His eyes were pinpricks sunk beneath a dollop of wrinkled flesh, his focus on the digital screen in his hand and the flickering images dancing across it. He twisted his body to the side and she saw what fascinated him.
Is he playing Fortnite?
As she considered such an unusual thing, the noise from upstairs disappeared, replaced by a knock on the door. The security never moved and she understood why: she would have expected a trap as well.
If I can silently open this hatch, I could get up behind them.
She peered through the gap into the library. Stuffed birds hung from every wall, and not just any old birds; these were hawks. There were dozens of them, and as she hid inside the service hatch, she imagined all their dead eyes examining her.
That image was echoing in her head as Sawyer looked up and stared in her direction, gazing at the hatch. She was thinking about pulling the wires to take it up when he said something to his guards. It was so low, she couldn’t hear what it was, and she didn’t think his security could either. One bloke lowered his weapon and walked over to the old man.
Astrid seized her chance. She threw open the hatch and ran towards Sawyer. The guard next to him didn’t have time to raise his rifle before she had her hand on the desk, swivelling her hip and lunging at him. She knocked him onto the ground and got her arm around Sawyer’s neck.
The other guard jerked forward with his gun pointed at her. His only problem was she had her face pressed against the old man, ready to snap his neck. She glanced down to see what had engrossed Sawyer so much on the desk. The guy she’d bundled over scrambled to his feet and aimed his weapon at her. She stuck her foot into the bottom of the bureau and moved her head, so it was behind Sawyer’s.
‘Drop your guns, or I’ll kill him.’
Neither of them did. She squeezed her arm against his flesh, and he gasped.
‘They only take orders from me.’
Astrid kept her focus on the weapons as she spoke to him.
‘You know I could break your neck in an instant.’
She loosened her grip a little to make it easier for him to speak.
‘Then my men will kill you, and Officer Campbell will die.’ He exhaled a sharp breath. ‘There’s no way out of this for you, Ms Snow.’
Even though he smelt of parchment and vinegar, she pushed her face into his.
‘Then we have a stalemate, Benedict, and I’m sure I can last longer like this than you.’
His legs trembled against hers and she felt his chest rise and fall. Inside her head, she was busy trying to create a map to get her out of this mess.
‘What do you think you’ll achieve with this, Astrid? There’s no way you’ll walk out of here alive without my permission.’
‘The President’s security detail won’t bring him here now, not with a raging fire and explosions going off next door. Your plan is finished, Benedict. It’s over.’
His laugh squirmed out of her grip and sounded like an arthritic chimney sweep.
‘It’s a temporary blip, that’s all, Astrid. Things will resume once my men have dealt with you.’
‘There are witnesses to your presidential assassination conspiracy. You won’t get away with this.’
As she spoke, she noticed the security guards inching towards her.
‘Ah, Ms Snow, your desperation is showing now. Who are these witnesses you speak of?’
‘Your daughter has evidence of your plot.’
His head twisted in her grip and she saw him glance at the bottom drawer of the desk.
‘Don’t be stupid. Rosie can barely find her car keys on a good day. To think she’d know anything of my work is ridiculous.’
She pushed into his back as the guards inched closer. If they stepped apart to get on each side of her, she’d be screwed, but as they’d moved forward, they’d got nearer to each other. And that’s what she’d waited for.
It took her three seconds to decide what to do. She leant into Sawyer and returned his grin with one of her own, grabbing his phone from the desk as she did. He tried to say something,
but the words were too slow coming from his mouth, by which time she’d hurled it at the bloke nearest to her. It hit him in the eye, and an explosion of blood and muscle erupted from his face as she let go of the old man.
The other guard fired his weapon as she moved from Sawyer, but he was too late. The bullet smashed into the wall behind her as she rolled over the desk and grabbed a pair of scissors from the top. The second shot split the wood as she pounced on the shooter and thrust the scissors into his neck. Blood poured out of him as he dropped the gun and writhed on the floor. She released him and was up and off before the now one-eyed security man could aim his firearm at her.
‘If I’d known America was this much fun, I’d have come here years ago.’
She grabbed a silver letter opener from the desk and jabbed it into the guy’s remaining good eye. He dropped his gun and howled. He fell to his knees, reached for his face and searched for something which no longer existed.
Astrid stepped by him and went to the door, making sure it was locked. Then she pulled a table and a chest of drawers in front of it. Sinew and muscle in her arms and shoulders ached as she grabbed the blind man’s gun and left him crying. The other guard had died with a mouthful of blood filling his lungs.
She strode over to the windows in the library, smiling at Sawyer as she did, and checked every one, happy not only to find them locked, but barred. All that remained was to disable the chute she’d arrived in.
Astrid returned to the sobbing blind guy and pulled the blade from his eye. He shrieked and rolled on to the floor. She cleaned the blood from the knife on her jacket and stepped over Sawyer’s phone, noticing the human tissue clutching on to the screen. She moved to the hatch and cut the ropes so the pulley system wouldn’t work. Someone could climb down it, but she’d hear them well in advance.
When she was satisfied the place was secure, she stuck Benedict Sawyer in a chair and sat opposite him. She pulled out her phone and placed it on the desk.
‘Is your offer of a job still open?’
