"Where's Sam, Mary?" asked Angus, interrupting her thoughts. "When will he be here?"
"Soon ..." said Mary with the silent phone in her hand while her mind floated off in some other-worldly reverie.
"Soon? God, you bloody English are hopeless, aren't you!" said John, playfully punching Mary's arm. "Ask an Englishman 'how long' and he'll tell you 'not long'. Ask an Englishman 'how big?' and he'll tell you 'quite big'. Ask an Englishman 'when?' and he'll tell you 'soon'. Getting facts out of an Englishman is like extracting teeth from a beggar's bum!"
"John, you forget you're married to an English person," said Belinda, laughing. Awkward laughter from the others.
"I can't forget that love!" said John, putting his arm around Belinda. "Charm, politeness, culture, history - you've got it all. But looking for a fact in an Englishman ... or English woman ... is like looking for courtesy in a French driver." Abandoned laughter from the others.
John's tirade was interrupted by a knock at the door. The laughter stopped while everyone looked at each other. The chances of very good news and very bad news were equal and no one was prepared to open the Pandora's Box the door represented.
"Can I come in?" asked Sam and Mary flashed to the door with unaccustomed rapidity. She opened it to a haggard, slightly untidy and thinner Sam than she'd known before. She faltered, seeing the same Sam she saw last night, now in the clear light of morning.
"Yes, Mary, my dear, the full light of morning reveals all," said Sam, smiling lopsidedly while apparently reading her mind.
"Oh, Sam, do come in," said Mary, recovering but unsure whether to give into her urge to hug him or to behave a little more correctly in front of her Regional Director and other assorted people.
Sam wrapped himself around her but her body wouldn't move. Was this really happening, she wondered, after all this time? Was this the real Sam Lord, the friendly, affable, sophisticated, off-hand Sam Lord she'd known, wanted, desired?
"Am I being too forward, Mary?" asked Sam, releasing his hold a little. The loosening of his hold activated her arms, somehow, and she grabbed him with a ferocity she'd not known before.
"Not too forward, Mr Sam Lord, just too bloody backwards for words!" said Mary into his grimy shirt, smiling through her tears.
"I don't know why it takes a crisis for us to realise we don't live forever," said Sam, relaxing gently back into her. "There just may not be a tomorrow to do and say all those things we've always planned to ... oh, Mary, I've been through a tiny bit of hell and I'm not going through anything else, hell or heaven, without telling you how much I ... aah ..." He stood back with his hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes. "Okay, here it is, my dear, I need to say ..."
"Watch out!" yelled Angus and John together as they dashed across the room with Ahmed in close pursuit. With a perfect All Black tackle, John felled Mary and Sam as Angus fell over the three and Ahmed's pistol boomed in the plush suite. A yell came from the corridor and a white man dropped and a tattooed, brown one, eyes wide and mouth open, faltered in indecision.
"Don't move an inch! Stop, right there!" said Ahmed, evenly, stepping over the sprawled bodies. "Hands up! Now!" The tattooed man obeyed instantly. "Now, into the room here or I blow your knees off. Understood?" The man obeyed silently and walked timidly past Ahmed and into the room.
Angus rolled off the human pile and leapt across to pounce upon a pistol he just realised was lying by the felled man.
"Dangerous place, this London town," said Angus as he stood up with the pistol in hand, gingerly pointing it towards the prone man who groaned and leaked blood into the deep carpet. "Mary, can you call for an ambulance or something!" yelled Angus, recovering his composure and senses.
"Well, don't just stand there and stare!" shouted John, helping Sam and Mary up as curious heads appeared at doorways along the corridor. "Help this man here - he's been wounded. Tell the management, someone, and is there a doctor here?" Most heads quickly disappeared behind slammed doors and one man stepped forth.
"I'm a medical officer," he said as he knelt over the prone and groaning man at Angus' feet. Two uniformed hotel staff members appeared at the end of the corridor, with a first aid kit, as Angus left the medical experts to it and returned to the room, shutting the door behind him.
"Do we need the police as well?" asked Ahmed as he motioned the tattooed man to lie on the floor, face down.
"No, no police, believe me!" said Sam, tucking his grimy shirt in. "They could well be behind this ... well, protecting those behind this."
"The police? Behind this?" asked Ahmed, alarmed, as he pulled the man's hands behind his back. "Has anyone got anything to tie these hands together, please?" Halee slipped off her tights and handed them to him. He smiled his thanks to her.
"Look, Sam," said Mary, straightening her suit, "I don't know what's going on with you and the police but we can't keep them out of it, can we?"
"Hardly!" said Belinda. "A gun's gone off, a man's lying in a pool of blood, people have been alerted and the ambulance is on its way."
"And what are they going to find when they come in here?" asked Halee. "A Kiwi tart, a Scottish woman dressed as a man, a Pakistani in costume, a scruffy pommy, a Scot and two M?ori guys. Questions might be asked, don't you think?" Everyone laughed at the strange spectacle they realised they would present.
"Well, we can run and keep running or we can stop and face it all, I suppose," said Sam, plonking himself down in a chair with a weary sigh. "Don't know about you lot but I'm quite fed up with running. Quite fed up, I must say."
"Well, my Da says ye can run but ye can never get away," said Angus, kneeling beside Ahmed as he tied the man's hands. "Yer sins will always follow ye."
"Our Da said that?" asked Mary, surprised. "I never knew he said anything wise in his life! But I have to agree - we're going to be surrounded soon and I don't know about you lot but I'm sick of pretending, sick of acting like I'm coping, sick of pushing against the damned wall, sick of, aah, I don't know, everything. I'm too tired to bother, actually." Sam stood to embrace her and she gave in to Sam's embrace. "But I'm not blooming well going to cry though," she said defiantly into Sam's chest.
"I committed a crime," said Ahmed. "I shot a man. I will not run from that. Never."
"But it was in self defence," said Belinda. "He was about to shoot Mary and Sam."
"Yes, Belinda, you may be correct," said Ahmed, smiling. "But I must let the law of this land decide that. Honesty and openness is peace of mind."
"You're absolutely right, Ahmed," said John. "Koia te kaupapa o te rangatiratanga, o te tika, me te maung?rongo o te ao. It is the foundation of freedom, justice, and peace in the world. So, it looks like we're staying so let's get this brother into a chair, a bit more comfortably because he's not going anywhere either!" John, Angus and Ahmed helped the stocky man roll over and get up into a chair. Sam and Mary sat side by side on one bed, Halee and Belinda on the other bed, Angus sat in the other chair while the two remaining men stood beside the seated man whose scared look was soon replaced by an embarrassed one.
"So what you all looking at?" he asked defiantly.
"Maybe you just tell us who you are and what you're doing here bro'," said John.
"Why should I do that? Who the hell ...." said the man, who stopped as Ahmed took his pistol from his belt for the second time that morning.
"Perhaps you'd like to tell us exactly who you are and what you're doing here," suggested Ahmed evenly.
"Ah, yeah, I suppose it won't do no harm, pass the time of day," said the man, more nervous than defiant now. "Well, I'm Hone Ropata and my tribe is Ngati Whakaue from Rotorua. That do?" Ahmed raised his pistol as if to examine it. "Oh yeah, you wanna' know te korero, the story, huh?"
"Yes we do, bro'," said John.
"Jeez, I could do with a smoke," said Hone.
"Talk first, smoke second," said John.
"Yeah, right, te korero," said Hone, squirming to make himself more comfortable. "Well, you se
e, these pakeha, these English people, stole some of our tapu taonga, our sacred pieces - three of them - and we wanted them back, see. We tried the government and the police and all that official shit ... oh, sorry ladies, but they did nothing. Just a lot of excuses about, what they call it, official immunity or something."
"Diplomatic immunity," offered Sam.
"Yeah, that's it, diplomatic immunity," said Hone, smiling at Sam. "So these diplomatic people took our taonga - pounamu, greenstone, from our tupuna, our ancestors - and the elders wanted to keep doing the stupid government thing but a group of us said, 'stuff that,' and so Kahu and I, we's volunteered to get the stuff."
"Why you two?" asked John, smiling knowingly.
"Ah, well, we's got experience of getting' stuff, you know," said Hone, looking sheepish. "Yeah, did a bit of time for it, of course, but got away with a lot of it. Anyway, they put us on a plane with maps and stuff of where it probably was and who might'a had it and we got here. Cor, big bloody plane, huh! Trouble was, me mate, Kahu ... well, silly bugger thought he'd make a bit of money on the side selling his weed - M?ori j'wanna we call it! Yeah, marijuana. Well, I shoulda' known he'd do something stupid but I's just so excited about a trip to Ngati Wikitoria, Queen Victoria's tribe, and to use my skills to honour my people. Anyway, he got caught. I managed to nick his stash off him before he got arrested and mighta' saved him a few years in clink. So I's on my own 'cept for this lanky blonde fella' I got talking to in the plane - yeah, the one out there now - and he seemed to know lot'a stuff and said the taonga was in this lord's house so we ... well he took me there and I got in and found nuttin'. Then he said there's this insurance expert, aah, Mr Bayly, who knew where it was and then I's told the boss of this insurance company, this, aah, Mr Lord ... bloody lords everywhere an' I got confused. Anyway, this blondy - said his name was Greg Cousins - said he was after stuff, some plans stolen from someone important and we could help each other get our stuff. Actually, he said this at the start, on the big plane - sorry, getting' the story arse about face here. So, yeah, we went after this Mr Lord, not the lord, Mr Lord ..."
"Sam Lord?" asked Sam.
"Yeah, that's him, Sam Lord," said Hone. "Don't know what he looks like but he's supposed to be big in the crime world, according to this Greg fella'."
"He looks like me," said Sam, smiling.
"Looks like you?" asked Hone, frowning.
"Because he is me," said Sam. "I am Sam Lord, world boss of crime, no less." Sam leant forward to shake Hone's hand and realised it was tied behind his back. Sam sat back, looking embarrassed.
"You're a crime boss?" asked Mary, swivelling round to face Sam.
"Well that's what this Greg cove says," said Sam. "However, that's new information to me, I can tell you!" A relieved chuckle circulated the room.
"Yeah, well, I started having my doubts about this Greg fella' but I had no other leads," said Hone. "You never know who you can trust, do you?"
"Yeah, not even burglars, Hone," said John, punching him playfully on the shoulder.
"Yeah, suppose so," said Hone, smiling broadly for the first time - bright, white teeth in a brown face, lighting up the room. "Anyway, you wanna' know the story or not?"
"Yes, yes, Hone, keep going, please," said Belinda, sitting forward on her seat, hands clasped.
"Yeah, well, where to start," said Hone, looking up as if for inspiration. "Aah, I discovered - well, I think it's right - this Michael fella' is working for, or maybe with, a George Sanderson ..."
"George Sanderson?" asked Sam, looking shocked. "The Assistant Commissioner, Special Operations, of the London Metropolitan Police? That George Sanderson?"
"Yeah, could be," said Hone. "He's got something to do with security and police and stuff. Seems to have a lot of strings to pull."
"You're dashed right he does!" said Sam. "And he's the sod who they were taking orders from where I was held!"
"And other things I found out," said Hone, warming to his tale. "I went through his stuff once or twice and it could be, not really sure, but this George Sanderson could be paid - paid bloody heaps if the stuff I read was correct - aah, paid by one of the power companies here or the petrol companies. Maybe they're all the same. Y'know, owning one another ..."
"Aha, it's coming together now," said Sam with a deep sigh. "God, why didn't I see it all before? See, they captured me with the plans in my briefcase but, because the plans cannot be seen in artificial light, they thought they were useless pieces of paper. They promised to release me if I gave them the "proper" plans, which is why I got you, Mary, to bring another set of bogus plans, like the ones John and Belinda were carting around."
"Ours were bogus?" asked John, looking astonished.
"Sorry, John, that was for your protection and I'll explain it later," said Sam looking embarrassed. "We need to focus on our immediate situation, I'd suggest."
"Oh shit ... sorry, yes!" said John, slapping his palm to his forehead. "So if you're right, Hone, the corporations pay the police to do their dirty work. And if it goes wrong, the government servants' heads roll."
"Well, heads are already rolling," said Angus. "There was something in yesterday's paper, at home - someone up there tipped them off about the police holding John's car without authority. There was even a hint the police may have actually stolen it - bit brash for the paper, really."
"Oh hell, I did that!" said Mary, feeling flushed and faint.
"Hey, hey, just stop a mo', guys," said John. "We're going to have the police knocking on our door so what do we do with Hone? I gotta' say I have a good feeling about him."
"Look, I just want to get our stolen taonga back and get out of this bloody place," said Hone. "Enough rain here to sink a waka!"
"I think Hone knows enough to help us and we might be able to help him," said John, excitedly. "I vote we stick together with Hone."
"I do too, John," said Sam. "What do you say, Hone, old chap?"
"Old chap," said Hone, ruminating on the phrase. "Heh, I never been called that before! Yeah, right, I just want the taonga and get back to decent kai. Bloody crap food here. Dunno' how you survive on it!"
"And you'll tell us all you know?" asked Ahmed, his gun still discretely evident.
"Don't need a gun to convince me, man!" said Hone, shaking his head.
Ahmed slipped his gun back into the back of his belt and looked around the room to see if everyone agreed. It seemed that they all did and so he nodded to John and Angus who pushed Hone forward on the chair to untie his hands as a knock sounded on the door.
"Thanks guys, so I can put my pants on again," said Halee disappearing into the bedroom as Sam leapt up and headed for the door, the man-in-charge once again.
"Oh, hello Hoppy," said Sam as he opened the door.
"Oh, gosh, Sam ..." said an older, suited man who stopped mid-sentence when he saw the others in the room. "Aah, oh, Mr Lord."
"Oh, yes, of course, Superintendent Hopkins," said Sam, remembering the form. "Do come in and we can explain."
"I am so sorry, ladies and gentlemen," said Superintendent Hopkins, smoothing back his straight, sparse hair a trifle nervously. "This must be upsetting for you all but I must ask you all to bear with me. And I know what a difficult time you've had of it, lately, Mr Lord." The superintendent looked evenly at Sam for some moments as if imparting information mentally.
"Yes, Superintendent Hopkins, there have been better times," said Sam jovially, closing the door and accompanying the superintendent back to the others. "Take a seat and we can explain everything."
"Thank you Mr Lord and thank you, sir," said Superintendent Hopkins as he took the seat vacated by Angus for him. "Now, I do not know what happened, though I have some suspicions, but I'm not here to ask any questions right now ..."
"But I just shot a man, sir," said Ahmed, looking surprised. "Surely you want to take me in ..."
"No sir, I am not going to question or take anyone in," said Superintendent Hopkins, smiling as he held up
his hand to Ahmed. "This is all very irregular and, believe me, I have been following this case closely, more closely than most of you realise, in fact. Now, bear with me, as I said, and it is imperative, most imperative, that you vacate this hotel as soon as possible."
"But, what about ..." asked Ahmed with his hands clasped as if already hand-cuffed.
"We do not have time for 'what ifs' and 'whys' right now," interrupted Superintendent Hopkins, evenly as he took out his notebook. "I am from Scotland Yard and, to me, your safety is foremost - a consideration you may not receive from either the Metropolitan Police Force or MI5. You must all be gone before anyone from either of those agencies or the tabloid press arrive and, after that, I will have as many explanations for you as you have for me. So, I need to take your names and contact details, one by one, and, in the meantime, you must pack and then leave with me."
Something in his quiet, factual voice sent a chill round the room and everyone immediately, quietly, packed up and was ready to leave as he wrote down the last name and details in his blue note book. He stood and they followed him to the door, where he motioned them to stop while he went out. There he had a conversation with other people. He then reappeared and motioned the eight to follow him, which they did obediently. They were surprised there was no one around to see them leave the building by the back stairs. He led them up a back alley, behind the food scraps and rubbish of other hotels and restaurants, in the cool, still morning, and stopped before they got to a street.
"From my notes I see the closest residence is yours, Miss Collins," said Superintendent Hopkins quietly. "I suggest you all repair there and I will meet you presently, with my detective constable, where we will conduct the usual investigation procedures."
The eight followed Mary to her apartment and, once inside, stood there looking at each other like dumb mules. No one spoke and no one knew what to say.
"This is weird, isn't it," said Angus, eventually, dropping his bag and looking out the window. "What you suppose is going on?"
The Last Stand Down Page 27
