Pedro was incensed. ‘That’s not funny. That was someone’s best friend you just killed.’
The fat Cuban turned and punched him hard in the face again.
Pedro screamed, louder than before. The pain was horrendous, and sent a shockwave through his body. The blow missed his nose this time, as Pedro had turned his head at the last minute, but the heavy fist landed on his right ear. His head was rocked sideways, and he went dizzy for a few seconds.
‘Shut up you Costa Rican scumbag. Watch this.’
An elderly lady with a white poodle had stopped to help the young man. It was another long shot of well over four hundred yards, but as soon as the fat Cuban had pulled the trigger, the poodle’s head jerked sideways. The small dog collapsed and lay motionless.
Even from that distance they heard the old lady wailing.
Pedro looked distraught. He had both of his hands over his mouth. There was a watery sheen in his eyes.
The fat Cuban started to put the rifle back in the canvas bag.
‘That’s what I’m going to do to you if you fuck up. It’s up to you. You can do a good job and get rich, or you can end up lying in a pool of your own blood.’
Pedro turned his head away. He said nothing in reply.
‘Good. That’s today’s lesson complete. Let’s get out of here before the bloody cops arrive.’
Chapter Thirty Four
Interstate 81 was taking them in a north easterly direction through the state of Virginia, heading towards the Shenandoah National Park. They had just passed the small town of Lexington.
Hedge was driving the grey Mustang. Cole had done a turn at the wheel, and was now asleep in the passenger seat. A light rain was splashing against the windshield of the car, and the wipers moved slowly back and forward, trying to keep the screen clear. The land on either side of them was green and rolling, with farms and homesteads abundant.
‘What the hell is that?’ Hedge had spoken softly to himself, but Cole was not a heavy sleeper, and he woke with a start.
‘What’s what?’ he said groggily.
That thing behind us, it’s been sitting there for the last eighty miles or so.
Cole turned in his seat.
‘I haven’t seen one of those in a long while.’
‘What is it?’
About fifty yards behind them was a silver coloured, sports car, with a box shape frontage. It had a gently sloping front, and the letters DMC on the grill. The vehicle had four, square shaped, distinctive looking headlights.
‘It’s a DeLorean DMC-12. There was a load of them made back in the 1980’s. Interesting because they had gull wing doors that open upwards, and the body panels are made of stainless steel.
‘Well, I hate to say this, but I think it’s on our tail.’ Hedge sounded concerned.
‘Not the best vehicle to have if you want to be discreet, don’t you think?’
Hedge didn’t reply.
‘Speed up a bit, and then pull off the road ahead. I’ll try and flag the guy down and ask him a few questions.’
Hedge accelerated the Mustang, and then turned off the road onto a short track that ran parallel with the highway. Cole leapt out of the car, and ran back to the main road. The DeLorean was almost upon him. He jumped into the road and waved his arms. The driver of the stainless steel car shot him a concerned look, and then slowed to a stop.
Cole pulled on the handle of the passenger door, and it immediately opened skywards. He jumped into the seat next to the driver.
‘Excuse me sir, but can I help you?’ The young man behind the wheel spoke with an air of surprise and annoyance.
‘Yes you can. Hold this for me please.’
The man in the driver seat looked horrified. He tried to back away, but was restrained by the seat belt secured around him. He threw his hands in the air, keeping them well away from the Sig Sauer that Cole was holding.
‘Jesus, you have a gun. Please get out of my car, leave me alone.’
‘Calm down mister, and take hold of the damn gun.’
Cole’s tone was harsh. The driver was scared. He took the pistol in his hand.
‘Now point it at me. That’s it, good. Now put your hand on the trigger. There it is, yes good. Well done. You’ve got it.’
The driver of the DeLorean was terrified. He did as he was told, but he was now confused. The Sig was pointing at Cole’s head, but the man’s hands were shaking badly.
‘What’s your name son?’
‘Carl.’
‘Now tell me Carl, why are you following my Mustang?’
‘I’m not following you. I’m on my way to a car show in Richmond.’
‘And you have a ticket for that show?’
‘Yes, it’s on the back seat.’
Cole picked up an unsealed, brown envelope. He opened it and studied the sheet of paper he found inside.
‘Carl Hammond, one VIP ticket to the Richmond Classic Motor Show. Ok, fair enough. So for Richmond, you’ll be turning off soon onto Interstate 64?’
Carl nodded.
‘So Carl, I’m going to give you two options. You can shoot me right now with the gun that you have in your hands there. Or option two, you can drive off, heading towards Richmond, and if I see you again I will shoot you with the gun. What’s it to be?’
Carl placed the gun back in Cole’s hand.
‘I’m going. You won’t see me again.’
‘Great,’ said Cole. He jumped out of the DeLorean and watched the driver pull away.
Hedge had walked over to see what was going on, and to get a better look at the stainless steel body of the car.
‘Everything okay, have you scared him off?’
‘I think so,’ replied Cole.
‘So we won’t be seeing him again.’
‘Yes, we will.’
‘Really, why is that?’ Hedge seemed suddenly nervous.
Cole laughed. ‘Well, the idiot has just driven the wrong way down the Interstate. When he realises, he will have to turn around, and head back this way.’
Chapter Thirty Five
Hedge and Cole were standing in front of a large, white stone block. On the eastern side of the block, facing towards Washington D.C., were three Greek figures. They had been carefully sculpted into the marble.
‘It says in my guide book that they represent Peace, Victory, and Valour,’ said Hedge.
‘It certainly is an impressive monument,’ replied Cole.
He was looking at the inscription on the front. It read, ‘Here rests an American soldier.’
‘I wonder who he was.’ It was a genuine question from Hedge.
He shivered briefly. Maybe it was the thought of some young lad being brought back from a distant battlefield, to his final resting place here. Or perhaps it was the chill wind that was blowing across Arlington National Cemetery. It had been warm and bright earlier in the day when they had decided to stop for a visit to the United States most sacred burial ground. But now it was slightly cloudy, and the wind was keeping the temperature down.
‘No one knows,’ replied Cole. ‘That’s why they call it the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.’
‘Indeed,’ said Hedge.
He looked up to survey the scene around him. Here was the nation’s official military burial place. It covered over six hundred acres, and people had been laid to rest here from as far back as the American Civil War. Some had even been dug up from earlier than that and then reburied here. The place was enormous, and Hedge turned a complete circle as he marvelled at what he was seeing. Everywhere was clean and tidy, and the graveyard was a place of real dignity. Further in the distance, he could see the city of Washington DC across the Potomac River.
He turned back to look at the marble block, but Cole was waving frantically.
‘What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
Cole had raised a hand and was pointing across to a small clump of trees.
‘Over there. He was sitting on that wooden bench.�
�
‘Who was?’
‘I’ve seen him before. He was at the Sun Studio in Memphis.’
‘I can’t see anyone. Who is he? Do you think he has been following us?’
‘I don’t know. But we’re going to find out.’
‘We are?’ Hedge looked anxious.
‘Yes, take this, and follow me.’ Cole threw something heavy down in front of Hedge. Then he ran off in the direction of the trees.
‘What the hell.’ Hedge shouted. He waited a few seconds, but Cole was moving fast. Reluctantly he did as he was asked, and set off after his friend.
Cole had stopped. He was crouching down behind the bench where the man had been sitting a few moments ago. He was peering into the trees, trying to see where the man went.
‘Wait here.’
Hedge nodded in agreement. He was happy to stay where he was.
Cole darted off into the trees. After about ten minutes Hedge started to wonder exactly what he was supposed to do next. How long did Cole want him to wait here for? Was his friend alright? He had no idea. A young man in navy uniform walked past with his girlfriend. They both looked across at Hedge and smiled. He raised his hand back to them as a friendly gesture.
Another five minutes passed with no sign of Cole. Hedge swore under his breath, before heading off in to the trees. He followed a well worn trail for a few hundred yards, until he came to a small clearing. There was nobody else in sight. It was completely silent, apart from the gentle rustle of leaves as the wind caught hold of the branches of the trees.
Hedge thought about shouting out after Cole. But that didn’t seem like a good plan. He didn’t want to attract attention to himself. He was about to carry on the path he was on, when he heard a faint sound of conversation somewhere to his right. He moved towards the sound of the voices. As he was getting closer, he knelt down on the long grass to see if he could hear who it was that was talking. Sure enough, it sounded like Cole.
Hedge moved forward slowly, until he was very close to the men talking. He could hear two voices. Pushing a few low branches aside, he raised his head slightly. Then he saw Cole. He was sitting in front a large tree. His legs were straight out in front of him, and he appeared to have his hands tied behind his back. Cole had a large gash on his head, and blood was running down the left side of his face. Other than that, he seemed okay. He was talking to a man standing a few paces away from him. The man had short brown hair. He was holding a silenced pistol in his right hand.
‘This is your last chance,’ said the man. ‘Tell me what you know about “The Cell” or I’m going to put a bullet in your stomach and leave you here to die in agony.’
‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’
‘Then why are you following them?’
‘I’m not following anyone. Who the hell are you anyway?’
The man raised his gun and aimed it at Cole’s belly.
Hedge realised that he had to do something. The Sig was in his hand, and he gripped it tighter. It wasn’t easy to hold as his palms were sweating badly. It felt like the gun might slip through his fingers. Swapping the weapon into his other hand for a moment, he wiped his right palm against his shirt in an attempt to dry it off. Then he took hold of the Sig again and wrapped his fingers around the handle. His index finger rested against the trigger.
He had to force himself, but finally he jumped out from his hiding place, aiming the Sig Sauer directly at the man.
‘Yes, who the hell are you?’ Hedge managed to blurt out. He tried to sound confident, but he was terrified. ‘Drop the gun immediately or I will shoot you.’
The man with the short brown hair laughed loudly.
‘You don’t sound very confident. Have you ever fired a gun before? Excuse me for saying this, but you don’t seem the type. In a few seconds I’m going to shoot your friend here and then I’m going to turn around and shoot you. How does that sound?’
Hedge was shaking. His vision seemed blurred, and his heart seemed to be beating in his ears.
The man had turned to face him. His silenced gun was still pointing at Cole. He was shaking his head as he stared across at Hedge.
‘Do you know that you have pissed yourself?’ He laughed again.
Hedge looked down briefly. Sure enough, the front of his trousers were soaking wet. He hadn’t even been aware of it himself. Such was the tension of the situation he found himself in.
Then he panicked. ‘Cole, what do you want me to do?’
His friend looked back at him. His voice was calm and clear. ‘Well, firstly shoot this ugly bastard in the head. Then, I suggest you go and change your trousers.’
‘Did you say Cole? Is that you, agent Cole?’ The man looked shocked, and a little embarrassed. He slowly lowered his pistol. ‘Do you have any identification?’
‘Yes,’ replied Cole sarcastically. ‘I have a tattoo on my back saying I work for the British government. What do you think?’
‘Fair enough,’ said the man. ‘My name is Harbour. Rick Harbour. I work for MI5. Like you, I can’t prove that of course. But, I can give you the name of my boss at the London office. You are welcome to call him. Who do you work for back at HQ?’
‘I’m not MI5,’ said Cole. ‘I’m sort of independent. I work for the government, usually directly for the Prime Minister. But I’m not on assignment at present. In fact, I’m supposed to be on holiday. So tell me, why exactly are you following us?’
‘First things first,’ said the man. ‘Who is your friend here? And where the hell are we going to find him a fresh pair of trousers.’
They both looked across at Hedge, and laughed.
Chapter Thirty Six
They had decided to leave Arlington quickly, just in case any members of the public had seen them carrying their weapons. They headed into the centre of Washington DC, and agreed to meet up once they had arrived. Hedge and Cole were still driving the dark grey Mustang, although the novelty of the car was starting to wear off. They had now completed most of the three thousand mile journey, and it had been a lot of driving.
Harbour followed them in his metallic green Ford Taurus. He had said he rented it soon after arriving at Phoenix airport. Cole had commented that MI5 must be tightening their budget. Harbour had missed the joke.
Hedge and Cole eventually parked the V8 Mustang in an underground car park near St. Patrick’s Catholic Church, close to the centre of town. They walked up a ramp and found themselves on 10th street. Immediately opposite them they noticed the world famous waxworks museum Madame Tussauds.
‘Interesting,’ said Cole.
‘Same as the one in London, I expect,’ said Hedge, ‘I’ve had a tour around that one a few times.’
‘Have they got a model of Elvis in the London one though?’
Hedge saw the smirk on his friend’s face, but he didn’t respond.
They walked west for a few blocks until they came to a sandwich bar, just a short distance beyond 13th street.
‘This is where we agreed to meet our new MI5 friend,’ Cole said, as he pushed open the door.
Harbour had already arrived and was sitting at a corner table chewing on a Danish pastry. The three of them chatted while they drank coffee.
‘So who is this “Cell” that you have been tracking?’ enquired Cole.
Harbour turned to the waitress and asked for more coffee. ‘Strong and piping hot this time please,’ he said.
The young girl looked back at him and nodded. She wasn’t sure if that was a criticism of the last pot of coffee she had brought to the table where the three men were seated. She walked off to get them a refill.
Hedge had been sitting quietly, listening to the other two talking. The incident with the gun had made him feel uneasy. He was pondering why he allowed himself to be drawn into these situations by Cole. He hated the fear and anxiety that welled up in his body. Or did he? Was he lying to himself? Did he secretly hope that he would be plunged into life and death situations? Was that when he truly
felt alive? He didn’t know the answer to that. So he carried on stirring his coffee. He moved the spoon clockwise round the mug, until he had completed ten complete revolutions. Then he did the same number the other way, anticlockwise. There was certain symmetry to doing that, and a certain logic. It felt calming.
‘We first heard about a group calling itself The Cell down in Cuba. I was on an assignment there with an MI6 man called Sinclair. We came across them by accident. Sinclair was interrogating a suspect. He’s a vicious bastard. He tends to operate outside of our normal guidelines. He had this guy tied down, with one of those cigar cutters pushed firmly onto the man’s dick.’
Cole shrugged. ‘That’s an interesting technique.’
‘It was a beautiful piece,’ continued Harbour. ‘Sterling silver, and guillotine style. It was top quality, and sharp as hell. The guy squealed like a pig. Told us everything we wanted to know, and more. That’s when we found out about The Cell.’
‘What about them.’
‘It seems they are a small group. No one knows much about them, or what they want. But, it appears they have been planning something significant somewhere in North America, and soon. But we don’t know where or when.’
‘And you don’t know what?’ Hedge looked up. He had finished stirring his drink.
‘Indeed.’
‘So what happened next?’ said Cole.
‘Well, Sinclair being the psycho that he is, he smacked the top of the guillotine with his bunched hand, and cut the guys penis off. He screamed like a baby. There was blood everywhere. Sinclair laughed his head off. After about ten minutes, the guy lost so much blood that he passed out. We left him strapped to a chair. I’m not sure what happened to him after that. Probably died, I guess. Sinclair took the severed article back with him as a memento. No doubt it would have turned up in one of his mate’s lockers back at headquarters. He’s got that kind of sick sense of humour.’
Cole shook his head. ‘As interesting as that is, I meant what happened next with the investigation into this so-called Cell.’
‘That’s about as much as I know. I was told to head out of London, and get across here and keep a tail on a dark grey Mustang. They gave me a licence plate. It’s the one you’re driving.’
The Transamerica Cell: A fast paced, gripping, action adventure, conspiracy thriller, with a superb, breath-taking ending (Hedge & Cole Book 3) Page 14
