Soft Target (Major Crimes Unit Book 2)

by Wright, Iain Rob

  “She is,” cried Leanne, “and of course we want to know if she’s okay. I assumed you would tell us if you knew anything. This is outrageous.”

  Paul folded his arms aggressively. “How dare you.”

  “Okay,” Sarah said. “Perhaps I’m wrong. If so, I apologise. The other question I wanted to ask, is: how do you know Dr Cartwright is a psychiatrist? We never said so. We just told you he was a doctor.”

  “The police told us,” Paul said immediately.

  Sarah frowned. “But your wife said that the police gave no details other than Ashley was wanted in connection with a kidnapping.”

  Howard nodded. “I know the police. They wouldn’t have shared any information about the suspects. They wouldn’t have mentioned anything specific about Dr Cartwright.”

  “The man works opposite our daughter in that clinic. It wasn’t a massive assumption to make.”

  “No,” Sarah said. “You said he was a psychiatrist specifically. The clinic across the road has half a dozen different specialists, as well as a GP’s office. It could make sense for you to guess Cartwright was a doctor, but not specifically that he’s a therapist.”

  Leanne shifted in her seat. “Perhaps I have met Dr Cartwright before and just can’t remember. Come to think of it, Ashley might have gone out for a drink with him one time.”

  Sarah nodded. “That explains it then. Well, I guess we should get going, we need to find your daughter.”

  Paul smiled and took a swig of his tea. Leanne stood up from the breakfast bar. “Please, it’s early. Let me grab you some breakfast for the road.”

  Sarah frowned. She’d gotten the feeling that the Fosters wanted she and Howard gone, but now they were being offered breakfast.

  “That’s quite alright,” Howard said.

  “At least have some fruit,” Leanne insisted. She reached toward the middle of the counter where a wooden bowl of apples and bananas sat.

  “Stop,” Sarah said. “We’re fine.”

  Leanne turned back and smiled. “I won’t hear of it.” She picked up an apple, which she fumbled to the floor. “Silly me, could one of you pick that up for me?”

  Howard bent down to pick the bruised apple up off the tiles.

  Sarah shouted, “Howard, get down!” She slid the SIG from its holster and pointed it at Leanne Foster.

  Leanne delved into the fruit bowl, just as Paul slipped from his stool and kneed the bent-over Howard in the face.

  Howard hit the floor.

  Leanne pulled a gun from the bottom of the fruit bowl. Pointed it. Squeezed the trigger.

  Sarah fired first.

  The first bullet struck Leanne in the shoulder, the following two the chest. The woman cartwheeled backwards, dead before she hit the ground.

  Paul saw his dead wife and howled in anguish. He charged at Sarah, but she was ready for him. Forgetting how weak and weary she was, she leapt aside and round kicked him in the belly. Paul wheezed, flailed, and then came at her again. Sarah smashed the butt of her SIG against his temple and dropped him to his knees.

  “Lie down on the ground!” she shouted.

  Paul Foster snarled. “You bitch.”

  Sarah snarled right back. “I’m the worst bitch from your worst nightmare, so don’t even blink if you want to keep your teeth.”

  Howard clambered back to his feet, clutching his right eye. He moaned. “I’m hurt.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. At least your face will go back to normal. No hope for mine.”

  Howard smirked and reached into his jacket. He pulled out his mob-sat and dialled. “Mattock. I need an extraction—”

  Blam!

  Sarah ducked as gunfire took over the kitchen. Coming at them from the back of the room was Ashley Foster, running and gunning just like she had outside the clinic.

  Sarah narrowed her eyes, weak yet enraged.

  Howard leapt behind the breakfast bar and pulled out his Ruger. Sarah leapt up from behind the breakfast bar and zeroed in on Ashley. Time for a little payback.

  Paul barrelled into Sarah from the side, knocking her aim off so that she fired a round into the ceiling. He followed it up by almost breaking her jaw with a punch. She sprawled onto the ground and couldn’t get up. All of her injuries joined together and left her a sagging mess on the floor.

  Paul stomped over to her and raised his foot above her head. He was just about to stamp on her skull, when Howard let off a shot from behind the breakfast bar. The shot missed, but it was enough to send Paul running to join his daughter at the back of the kitchen. Howard tried to get off a follow-up shot, but Ashley fired at him first, forcing him down behind the breakfast bar.

  Sarah was still trying to catch her breath when the Fosters escaped through a back door.

  “Howard knelt next to Sarah. “You saved my hide. How did you know she had a gun hidden in the fruit bowl?”

  Sarah blinked away the stars in her vision. “Fruit and I have a long history. Now come on, let’s get after them.”

  As if in reply, gunfire rang outside, preceding the sound of an engine starting up.

  Sarah flinched. “Mandy!”

  Howard took off and Sarah staggered after him. She held her gun in front of her, ready to take down anyone who even looked at her wrong.

  Howard yanked open the front door and ducked out onto the driveway. The sleek black Audi had rocketed, shunting the MCU’s Jaguar out of the way and heading down the road. Lights in the nearby houses flipped on like beacons, alerted by all the gunfire, and stock car racing.

  “We really need to get a mechanic on staff,” Howard said, shaking his head.

  Sarah looked at the crumpled wing of the Jaguar and clucked. “Too bad we don’t have the budget for it.”

  “Oh so it’s ‘we’ now, is it?”

  “Come on.” She raced over to the Jaguar and found Mandy still sitting in the driver’s seat. It was clear from the shattered front windows that Ashley and her father had fired at him as they made their escape. He looked none too happy. Sarah slid in beside the big man, and Howard threw himself across the back seat.

  Mandy slammed his foot on the accelerator.

  The Foster’s Audi was fast – it roared through the neighbourhood like an angry bear – but Mandy’s Jaguar was quick too, deceptively so for such a big car. It wasn’t long before they managed to gain a few yards on the Audi.

  “Their car’s quick,” Sarah said, clocking their own speedometer at seventy.

  “It’s a TT,” Howard said from the back seat. “They have a few horsepower on us, but we have Mandy.”

  To prove the point, the TT screeched around a corner unsteadily, while Mandy almost seemed to float round. The Audi raced for the highway and they followed, only a couple of car distances behind.

  But that distance soon became larger.

  “They’re getting away!” Sarah shouted.

  Howard grunted. “We can’t keep up with them on the straight, but we can cut them off at the exit.” He pulled out his mob-sat and put another call through to Mattock. “We’re in pursuit of target, heading north on the A4114, Abingdon Road. Requesting backup at River Thames, south side.” Howard listened for a second and then put the mob-sat back in his pocket. He leant forward between the front seats. “Mattock will be at the river in six minutes.”

  Sarah hissed. “That’s going to be too late. We’re going to be at the river any minute.”

  Howard went blank, searching for an idea. Up ahead, the TT continued gaining distance. Sarah pulled out her gun and took aim through the side window, firing a shot. The discharge made no sound in the rushing wind, and the bullet seemed to disappear. She fired several more times, but there was too much distance between the two cars. “Shit,” she muttered. “They’re going to get away.”

  “No, they’re not,” Howard said. He turned around and rifled through the back compartment behind the seats. What he came up with both shocked and delighted Sarah.

  “Now you’re turning
me on,” she said.

  Howard held the L129A1 Sharpshooter against his shoulder and grinned. “A gift from our American cousins. I guess size really does matter.”

  The morning roads were empty and the Fosters were gaining distance every second. “You need to hurry,” she said. “They’re going to be out of range soon.”

  Howard rolled down his window and shoved his upper body out of the car, righting the rifle against his shoulder. A few seconds passed and then he let off an ear-piercing shot.

  Sarah flinched.

  The TT continued speeding away.

  Howard fired again. This time the TT jerked left. For a second it looked like it was going to flip, but its safety systems kicked in and the tyres regained their grip on the road.

  A thick strip of rubber flew from the back of the TT and whizzed by the Jaguar’s windscreen. Sarah smiled as she realized that Howard had hit the rear tyre. Despite the damage, the TT still sped along rapidly.

  “They must have run flats,” Sarah realised.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Howard said. “It’ll slow them down.”

  Mandy leant forward behind the wheel, his eyes narrowing and his shoulders stiffening. It wouldn’t be long before he caught them up to the TT.

  Sarah waited. Should she start firing at the TT, or would Mandy try to run it off the road safely? She’d already killed Leanne Foster tonight. Could she really take more lives, did she even care? The Fosters had given up their right to mercy when they’d gotten involved with Hesbani. There was no obvious link yet, but Sarah knew that Shab Bekhier was behind all of this. A shiver ran down her neck.

  They were right behind the TT now. Sarah checked her watch: 5:12AM.

  “Get ready,” Howard said. He’d placed the Sharpshooter down and was holding his pistol now. “Mandy, try to run them off the road as soon as it’s safe. If they refuse to stop, Sarah and I will have to take them out.”

  Mandy brought the Jaguar up on the TT’s rear bumper. The Audi’s rear tyre had gone completely flat now, and the vehicle hitched from side to side as Paul fought against the steering. Sarah could see Ashley sitting beside him, looking back at them frantically. Sarah gave the girl the middle finger.

  Ashley fired back at them.

  Sarah ducked down as the Jaguar’s windscreen shattered, but she was right back up and returning fire. The TT veered back and forth wildly, still managing to keep its speed above fifty.

  Sarah let off another shot just as a ricochet bounced of the Jaguar’s roof and almost took the other side of her face. Her ears were ringing, and in the distance she could hear the sirens of alerted police. She wondered what would happen if they apprehended her. The MCU was supposed to be secret, so what would the police have to say about the dead woman she’d just left in a middle-class neighbourhood? How much influence did MCU have?

  Ashley let off another barrage and forced Sarah to duck back down in her seat.

  “River’s coming up,” Howard informed them. “Let’s hope Mattock is there waiting for us.”

  Mandy yanked the steering wheel and managed to bring the Jaguar up around the side of the slowing TT. As Sarah looked to her left, she saw Paul gripping the steering wheel and facing forward defiantly.

  Ashley leant over her father’s lap and let off another shot.

  Mandy trod on the brake, dropping speed and pulling Sarah out of harm’s way before Ashley had opportunity to place her aim. Sarah turned to thank him, but cried out when she saw him bleeding and half-conscious behind the wheel. His black clothing made the source of the blood hard to detect, but the splatter around his neck and face made it clear he was hit.

  Oh shit!

  Mandy slumped against the steering wheel and the Jaguar suddenly went sideways. Sarah and Howard were powerless to do anything as the vehicle hopped the pavement and smashed headfirst into a transit van parked at the side of the road.

  Sarah’s body turned to jelly and her bones rattled inside her skin. Her head bucked so hard that she thought it was going to fall off her shoulders. Then, all of a sudden, she could see only white.

  Her eyes remained closed for a while, as she came to terms with the fact that she was still alive, but slowly she opened them.

  Something smothered her face, making her panic. It took her several anguished seconds before she realised it was the airbag. She pawed and swatted at it until it deflated and got out of her way. When it did, she could see nothing but pavement

  Mandy hung upside from the driver’s seat, held in place by his seatbelt. He wasn’t moving and blood dripped down his forehead, pattering against the roof beneath him. Howard was lost someplace in the back.

  The only way Sarah could go was ahead, so she began to drag herself. Slowly, she shuffled forward, kicking with her legs and pulling with her fingertips. She saw blood leaking from a gash on the back of her hand and moaned. She couldn’t lose any more blood. She already felt close to passing out.

  Eventually she pulled herself into a shaft of sunlight and managed to crawl into the hole left by the missing windscreen. It was a tight fit, but gradually she made her way through. What made it more unsettling was that she’d done this before. This time, instead of the heated sands of Afghanistan, Sarah pulled herself out onto the coarse pavements of England.

  The sound of footsteps and Paul Foster was pointing a gun in Sarah’s face. Ashley stood beside her father, sneering. “Just kill the bitch, dad.”

  “I will, but you get out of here first.”

  “No way.”

  Paul looked at his daughter. “Don’t you hear that? The police will be here any minute. Get out of here now, while I deal with this. I’ll be with you soon. You know where to go. There’s still work to be done.”

  Ashley took off like lightning. The girl had nine-lives. Sarah didn’t have the energy left to take them all. She was done, defeated.

  “I’m really sorry about this,” Paul told her, still pointing the gun. “But you’re part of the problem.”

  “What problem?” Sarah was genuinely curious. She didn’t want to die in ignorance.

  “The problem of being a human being in today’s world. You’re fighting to protect a system that’s all wrong. We live by greed and selfishness. We take what we want and leave our victims to suffer. Being rich is the goal everyone strives for, so that the poor can clean their toilets and eat the cheap food that they don’t want. We live in a world where 99% of us suffer and toil to make life wonderful for the other 1%. Don’t you think that’s wrong?

  Sarah nodded. It all sounded so reasonable.

  “Again, I’m really sorry about this.” Paul pressed the gun barrel against her forehead.

  No! This wasn’t going to happen again. Sarah had been on her knees waiting for death only twenty-four hours ago, thanks to the Foster family, and she was sick of it. She’d lived through the clinic car park and she would live now. She was done being a victim.

  Sarah sprung to her feet and barrelled into Paul just as he was about to pull the trigger. The sudden blow caught him off guard and he went staggering backwards. Sarah took the opportunity to strike him square in the chest with the heel of her palm. The air went rushing out of him and his face puffed up like a balloon. She went to strike again with an elbow to the temple, but Paul recovered and punched her in the gut, then rugby tackled her as she was reeling backwards.

  As soon as Sarah hit her back, Paul headbutted her in the face. She tried to shake the blow off, but as soon as she did, there was a gun pointed in her face again.

  “You just made this a whole lot easier,” Paul said, snarling.

  He pulled the trigger.

  WEAKNESS

  AFGHANISTAN, 2008

  Sarah didn’t know how long she’d been asleep when they dragged her from the cell. They took Hamish too, who’d recovered enough from his beating to share his bread and water with Sarah. As it turned out, the soldier killed by the IED had been one of the privates, not Sarah’s corporal as she’d originally thought. Hamish had been dragge
d out of the Snatch shortly after Sarah’d been taken. He’d tried to put up a fight, but had been beaten bloody for it.

  Now, they were being manhandled and dragged out of their cell. Every time Sarah stumbled, she received an elbow in the back or a sandal up her backside. She was subdued, but Hamish was irate. He bellowed and cursed, even when the men slapped and punched him for his defiance.

  “Shut up, Hamish,” Sarah said. “They’re going to kill you if you don’t shut up.”

  Hamish huffed. “They’re gunna kill us both anyhow. Why make it easy for ‘em? I’m Glaswegian. They can break my bones, but not my spirit.”

  “They’re going to let us go,” Sarah told him. “Al Sharir told me so last night.”

  Hamish looked at her quizzically. “Really?”

  “Yes, so behave.”

  Hamish was shoved in his back, but this time chose to remain quiet. They were taken to a dusty yard, walled off on all sides. There was a group of men there, Al-Sharir and Wazir Hesbani among them. A boy knelt, crying. He looked about fifteen, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. It was only his fuzzy beard and cheap sandals that gave him away as a native Afghan.

  Al-Sharir summoned Sarah and Hamish, who were shoved down on their knees beside the boy. Sarah gritted her teeth at the pain in her wounded thigh. The hole had been weeping blood all night.

  Al-Sharir gave her a thin smile. “Hello, Captain, how are you feeling today?”

  Sarah looked him in the eye. “Looking forward to you keeping your word.”

  “I will keep my word, do not worry.”

  Sarah let out breath. She’d been anxious that Al-Sharir would change his mind. It was a relief to hear that he hadn’t. “Thank you,” she said.

  “We have some business to attend to first,” Hesbani said. “We won’t keep you longer than we have to.”

  Sarah frowned. What business was there? She just wanted to go back to Camp Bastion.

  A large crowd assembled in a semi-circle around them. Suddenly, Sarah felt overwhelmingly anxious.

  Hesbani pointed at the teenaged boy. “This man has been found guilty of murder. Under Islamic law, he is to be put to death.”