No Time to Lose: A Matt Flynn Thriller

by Iain Cameron

  He was about to investigate a closed door when the sound of movement behind him caused him to turn. A guy rushed towards him, baseball bat in hand ready to swing. Matt could have shot him, but instead he stepped forward with the butt of the gun extended and smashed it into his face. The bat clattered onto the tiled floor.

  Matt frisked the fallen figure and removed a plastic tie from his pocket. He pulled the guy’s hands behind his back, attached one of the ties and yanked it tight. He did the same to his legs. He didn’t care if the guy bled to death from the leakage around his broken nose, or lost a hand or foot from limited blood circulation. His patience at the guys stopping him from arresting Simon Wood was starting to wear thin.

  Matt checked all the other rooms in the house, but they were clear; he didn’t find anyone else. He stepped over the prostrate figure lying motionless on the floor, walked out of the house, and closed the door.

  Crouching, he edged closer to the villa and took up a position with a good view of the patio, shrouded by a decent amount of foliage. The patio was devoid of police officers and Rosie, only the dead guard. A passing delivery boy or one of his colleagues who’d been sent out to check on his welfare would not mistake the inert figure for a mid-morning napper. It wasn’t so much the way he was lying, but the large pool of blood around his body.

  Matt lay flat on the ground, the M16 in the sniper position, set to single shot, pointing at the front door of the house. He waited. He regretted not picking up a pair of binoculars he’d spotted in the house, as it would have given him a clearer picture of the goings-on inside Villa Fortuna. What he could see were three remaining soldiers sitting around the kitchen table downstairs drinking beer, while upstairs, there was the frenzied activity of Wood and his wife packing. How he’d got out of the handcuffs, Matt didn’t know. Perhaps his security detail had taken keys from one of the trussed-up cops, or they carried bolt cutters, ready for this very eventuality.

  He wondered at the loyalty of the security team to Wood now their employer was leaving. Would he take them with him, or give them a couple of weeks’ severance pay and thank them for their assistance? Matt imagined the latter, although Wood was rich enough to do the former.

  Matt had been lying there for ten minutes and it looked as though Wood and his wife now had their bags packed and were ready to leave. Matt looked over at the access road, but still there was no sign of reinforcements. He needed to encourage the security detail to come outside, as no way would he let Simon Wood escape for a second time.

  He was about to let off a shot when one of the guys sitting at the kitchen table stood and stretched. He snatched a can of beer from the table and walked out to take it to his mate. He stepped out on the patio and turned his head left, then right, before racing towards his stricken colleague.

  ‘Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!’ he screeched, running his hand through his hair in a nervous gesture. ‘Rick! Davey! Come out here now!’

  Matt waited, seeking the right moment.

  ‘What the fuck!’ the guy who had whacked Matt shouted when he stepped out of the kitchen. ‘Where are the fucking prisoners?’

  The three men moved closer together, looking down at their dead colleague. Matt aimed and fired three shots: Bang! Bang! Bang!

  The three men dropped to the ground in various stages of screeching agony. From Matt’s position, he reckoned they were unarmed, their carbines lying inside the kitchen where they left them. This made them less of a threat, so he didn’t shoot to kill. Instead, he shot all three of them in the leg.

  Matt broke cover. He made his way towards them in a broad arc, all the time watching and listening for another unseen member of their crew bringing up the rear. Plus, it would give the injured time to come to terms with their situation, and either pull out another weapon hidden in their fatigues to continue the fight, or give up.

  Passing the access road, he heard a noise behind him; he turned, the M16 in a shooting position, his finger on the trigger.

  ‘Don’t shoot, Matt,’ Sergeant Waller said, ‘it’s us.’ Rosie was beside him.

  ‘I thought I told you guys to get the hell out of it.’

  ‘I had second thoughts leaving you on your own. I called for reinforcements and took a position guarding the road to stop any cars escaping. Then we heard shots.’

  ‘Good man. Come with me, but be careful.’

  They were holding handguns, presumably all that was left in the van. With weapons at the ready, they advanced towards the three stricken figures.

  ‘You bastards,’ Matt’s attacker said, ‘you’ve killed Billy. We were buddies together in Afghanistan. He saved my life.’

  Matt didn’t respond; instead he frisked them for weapons while Waller and Rosie covered them with their handguns. Using plastic ties, he attached their wrists to the patio furniture. No lightweight plastic chairs and sun loungers for Simon Wood, these things were metal and heavy. Yes, they were portable, but Matt couldn’t see the prisoners getting far with a bullet in each leg and ten kilos of an awkward sun lounger hanging from their arms.

  They walked into the house and found Wood in the living room, frantically packing items from a drawer underneath the television into a bag, his back to them. He probably hadn’t responded to the shots as he thought it was his security team firing.

  Matt walked over and prodded the back of his head with the barrel of the rifle. ‘Get up, Wood.’

  ‘What the fuck?’

  ‘Surprised to see us?’

  ‘How did you–’

  Matt grabbed him by the collar of his polo shirt, and frogmarched him towards a chair and dumped him in it.

  ‘What the fuck is going on, Flynn? I have rights. I am an Antiguan citizen.’

  ‘Yeah, and I’m Lord Lucan. Put a sock in it, mate.’

  ‘Why should I? You’re the fucker who shot Rod. What the fuck are you doing here? How did you find me?’

  Matt leaned closer and eyeballed him. ‘You piece of shit, it was you and Rod who killed my partner, Emma Davis.’

  ‘You’ve got the wrong guy, it was Rod. Poor Rod, look what happened to him. It was you,’ he said pointing a finger at Matt, ‘you bastard, you killed him.’

  ‘Now you’re more awake, tell me about this vendetta you’re conducting against me.’

  He smiled, the expression of a tiger before it leapt on its prey. ‘You bastard, Flynn,’ he said, his face looking shrewd and intelligent for the first time. Perhaps the effects of all the Malbec he’d drunk and the coke he’d sniffed were beginning to wear off and a few neurons inside his brain were working once again.

  ‘You killed my nephew,’ Wood continued, ‘my sister’s kid, the closest thing I ever had to a brother. In my business, that makes you fair game. I paid those useless TFF fuckers to kill all the people close to you, and make sure you suffered as much as I did. Then, when I was good and ready, to top you. As you’re here and pointing a gun at me, don’t you think I should be asking for a refund?’

  ‘What have you done with Suzy Needham?’

  ‘Who?’

  Matt slapped him hard.

  ‘What the–’

  ‘Don’t fuck with me, Wood. I’m not in the mood to be messed around.’

  Earlier, Rosie had picked up Wood’s phone from the bedroom. She fished it out. ‘The answer might be in here.’ She pressed the home button and held the screen in front of Wood’s face; it wasn’t equipped with face recognition. ‘What’s the password, Wood?’

  ‘Think I’d tell you any–’

  Matt punched him in the face, and for good measure, his gut.

  ‘Agh. This is police brutality. I’ll report you to the commissioner.’

  He ranted on for several minutes. Waller gave Matt a nod and headed outside to check on the prisoners, now being processed by recently arrived reinforcements.

  ‘Complain all you like,’ Matt said, ‘the commissioner isn’t listening.’

  ‘C’mon Wood, password,’ Rosie said. ‘You’ve got to be sending messages t
o the TFF and the other crew you employed, telling them what to do. Spit it out or things will start to get messy for you.’

  ‘Threaten all you like, see if I care. I have rights in this country. I’m an Antiguan citizen.’

  Matt took the handgun from Rosie.

  ‘You don’t have the balls, Flynn, and in any case, you don’t have any jurisdiction over here. It would cause an international incident.’

  Matt laughed although the situation wasn’t funny. ‘Shooting a drug dealer, an escapee from British justice? You’re having a laugh. They’d probably give me a medal.’ He pressed the barrel hard into his thigh. ‘You’re talking about legal niceties that don’t apply to you and don’t concern us. C’mon Wood, the password, or I’ll shoot.’

  ‘You wouldn’t dare.’

  ‘I’ll count to three, and if you refuse to give us the number, I will shoot. Understand? I’m not bluffing.’

  ‘Fuck off.’

  ‘1, 2, 3.’

  Bang!

  Matt shot him in the thigh. He slid down the seat and slumped on the floor, screeching like a hyena being attacked by a lion.

  Matt leaned over him and yanked his head up by the hair. ‘I want the password, Wood. You must know by now, as I don’t think you’re thick, I could kill you and the Antiguan Police would look the other way. You’d just be another scumbag drug dealer they wouldn’t need to worry about.’ He pushed the barrel of the Glock against the side of Wood’s head and pressed hard.

  ‘Ahhh,’ Wood screeched.

  ‘Password.’

  No response.

  Matt stepped on his injured leg, eliciting an ear-splitting squeal. ‘Tell you what, as I know you’re a man who likes to take a risk, I’ll give you one more chance.’

  He pointed the gun at his other thigh. ‘Why don’t I count to three once again and if you don’t tell me what I want to know, I shoot? Does that sound like fair odds to you?’

  ‘You fucking bastard.’

  ‘Okay, let’s make a start. 1, 2–’

  ‘All right, all right. It’s 4523.’

  FIFTY

  Matt and Rosie met outside the White Sands Hotel restaurant. Now with a change of clothes, they both looked like tourists and not the aggressive armed officers who’d raided Simon Wood’s villa earlier in the day. Wood had been taken to hospital where his gunshot wound would be attended to, while his partner and children were being moved to other accommodation. This would allow a forensic team to go through the villa and reveal its many secrets.

  Matt expected them to find plenty, as Wood was running his business empire from there. Matt had also given the forensic team the mobile phone that Wood had been so reluctant to unlock. He was sure there was a lot more information to be found on there, but Matt had wanted it opened only to find one piece of information in particular.

  They were shown to a table, and sat down. It was on the terrace, shielded from the growing strength of the morning sun by an array of large umbrellas and luxuriant foliage creeping over a pergola. Despite this, Matt could still feel and smell the warmth of the sea breeze as he watched the movement of sparrows darting here and there looking for discarded food on vacated tables. He was glad he had remembered to bring sunglasses.

  Breakfast was buffet-style, which suited Matt as he found the early start had left him famished. This being the Caribbean, the buffet was filled with all manner of fruit: pineapple, banana, strawberries, and a number of varieties of melon. For starters, he heaped several pieces of fruit on to his plate and smothered them in yogurt; hopefully he hadn’t selected mayonnaise by mistake. When he returned to the table, he saw that Rosie had done something similar, but her plate contained a lot less food than his.

  ‘Have you heard from Joseph?’

  ‘No, I haven’t. You?’

  She shook her head. ‘Nope.’

  ‘He’ll have been at that place not long after my phone call. If Suzy’s in there, he’ll get her out.’

  ‘Do you think it’s being guarded?’

  He thought for a moment. ‘Maybe not. I think Wood had to improvise when the TFF and the two goons who were looking after Jonty had been removed from the equation. He had to cobble together a kidnap team and find a place to hide her. He’s not set up for this sort of operation, even with a large army of drug hustlers and dealers at his command. He’ll have arranged for someone to go in there once or twice a day to feed her, and they’ll be waiting for the order from Wood to carry out the next move.’

  ‘Which will not be forthcoming.’

  ‘I would ask you if you know how our prisoner is, but I couldn’t care less if he bled to death in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. You’ve no idea how close I was to putting a bullet into his head.’

  ‘I’m sure you were.’

  ‘Even if something bad hasn’t happened to him, it’s a long way from his house to the hospital in St John’s. We can but hope his leg gets so badly bumped and vibrated, he’ll be screaming to have it amputated.’

  ‘I’m forced to agree with you, he’s such an odious character, although being under sedation, he wouldn’t feel a thing. Drug dealers like him are the scum of the earth in my book. The one thing I do know is, you and I will be responsible for taking him home.’

  ‘There isn’t an arrest team coming out?’

  ‘Nope.’

  He gave her a wry smile. ‘What? I can’t believe it, no volunteers?’

  She laughed. ‘I think the accepted view is, why have a dog and bark yourself? HSA have two experienced agents in Antigua, they can do it.’

  ‘Oh, won’t that be fun? Perhaps I’ll accidentally drop coffee on his leg, or stab him with my plastic fork, once I’ve finished eating my food, that is.’

  ‘At Heathrow, we’re to hand him over to officers from the Met.’

  Matt nodded. ‘After spending eight or nine hours in a plane with him, I would happily hand him over to the first person holding a ‘Welcome Home’ placard.’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  Matt stopped eating and put down his cutlery. ‘Joking aside, we need to be careful how this is executed. If you remember, Wood’s tame cop, Sergeant Jack Harris, the one who worked with Emma in the drug unit back in the day, escaped after he was sent back to the UK from Spain.’

  ‘How could I forget? Two cops were murdered thanks to him.’

  ‘In which case, we need to make sure the Met supply us with the names and photo IDs of the officers tasked with picking him up. I don’t want that bastard pulling a fast one and putting more lives in danger.’

  ‘Agreed.’ She pulled out a notebook and jotted down a quick summary.

  ‘Also, we should call Chris Waller and make sure Wood doesn’t have access to a phone in hospital. If his wife and kids are keen to know how he is, tell them to buy a newspaper.’

  ‘Sometimes, Matt, I think you’ve got a stone for a heart.’

  ‘For people like him, you’re dead right.’

  ‘Waller did all right, don’t you think?’

  ‘Yeah, he did great. You can see why his lads respect him, he leads from the front. He’s already told the guy who got shot he’ll be welcomed back into the team when he’s recuperated. If he can’t be on operational duty because of his injury, he says he’ll find him a decent desk job instead.’

  ‘He’s a good man.’

  Matt decided to go back up to the buffet and have some more food. The cooked section looked and smelled enticing, but he reckoned it wouldn’t be much different from the food available in one of the numerous breakfast places in Clapham. Instead, he decided to go for a couple of crispy rolls with a variety of cold meats and cheeses.

  Rosie arrived back at the table a few minutes after him. This time, her plate contained more food than his: scrambled egg, bacon, tomato, sausage, and several pieces of toast.

  ‘Feeding two? Something you should be telling me about?’

  ‘Get away with you. I’m making the most of this place. I reckon Wood will be on crutches and out of hosp
ital in a day or two, which means I’ll only have a few more days to enjoy someone else preparing breakfast for me.’

  ‘If you fancy staying a bit longer, we can throw Wood in a cell and tell Walsh he’s suffered a relapse, or complications. After all, it was his decision to make us accompany the prisoner.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind staying, as I’ve got nothing other than the usual to go back to. I’m tempted, but I think I’d rather take him while the wound’s a bit raw and he’s still in a lot of pain. He won’t be able to move around much and give us any bother.’

  ‘Trust you to spoil the party, but I think you’re right. Smart thinking, Fox.’

  After breakfast, they both returned to their rooms and changed into swimming gear, ready for a day on the beach. This time, Matt didn’t wait for Rosie, and instead headed down to the beach where he bagged a couple of sun loungers with uninterrupted views of the sea.

  Several sun loungers were free, as the majority of hotel residents seemed to be sitting around the swimming pool, perhaps because it offered additional shade with easy access to the bar. With most of the three- and four-star hotels in the Caribbean offering all-inclusive packages, some residents didn’t believe they’d had a good holiday until they’d eaten their body weight and emptied most of the vodka bottles in the bar.

  He saw Rosie walking towards him. He waved to indicate where he was sitting. Just then his phone rang.

  ‘Matt, it’s Joseph. Good news, mate. We’ve found Suzy. She’s all right.’

  ‘Brilliant, well done. Is everyone all right?’

  ‘We’re all fine. It was just a case of kicking in the door as there was no one outside. When we got in, she didn’t have anyone guarding her. After extracting Suzy, we sealed the place back up and left three guys monitoring the site, in case her minders came back.’

  ‘Good thinking. How is she?’

  ‘She’s been smacked around a bit, a split lip and a black eye, the result of being too mouthy she said, but there were no other injuries I could see. Before you ask, she hasn’t been sexually assaulted. She was taken away in an ambulance about five minutes ago.’