Todd pressed himself closer to the wall, hoping that the darkness and the dust was enough to conceal him. As the assassin dropped the empty Steyr machine pistol, only to lift the P238 and continue blazing away into the nest itself, Todd’s hand alighted onto a varnished shaft of wood. The young soldier picked up the unfamiliar tool and placed the head of the heavy brick hammer onto his palm.
Two seconds later, two kilogrammes of steel was swinging through the air with all the power the young Australian could muster. In the end it was more than enough; the hammer crashed into the assassin’s head, shattering his skull and passing unhindered into the brain. The damage to the assassin’s head was catastrophic, and the hammer was buried so deep in the skull that Todd had to pull hard to retrieve it. When he did, there was a loud sucking sound.
A second blow was unnecessary. The assassin‘s arms fell to his side and he toppled forward like a tree falling, landing with a sickening thud. Todd leaned against the cement bag wall, feeling suddenly weak as the adrenaline drained away. The last assassin’s body shuddered several times in a macabre post mortem dance before remaining forever still.
***
Todd had cleaned up the scene as best he could. Whilst there were no visible signs of blood, he knew that a forensic disclosing light would reveal the truth of what had happened here. But, if he was careful, no-one would ever suspect that violence had been played out here and, hopefully, no investigation would follow.
With the bullet holes now filled in with plaster and the door locks refitted, Todd had done the best he could. It would have taken days to recover the slugs from the cement bags, and so he left them where they were.
Luckily the Land Cruiser that his assailants had brought with them had blacked out windows, so now the rear seats were laid flat and four bodies were stacked neatly in the rear. The handgun he had used to shoot the assassins was wiped clean and was back in the dead hand of its owner, the first assassin. This way, when the bodies were found, the only firearm involved could be matched to the bullets in the bodies and, hopefully, the authorities would be puzzled enough to let the mystery lie unsolved.
Todd left the villa for the last time, determined to find out who had sold him out. He laid out the three mobile phones he had retrieved from the bodies on the hood of the black Land Cruiser. Two were cheap non contract phones which had virtually no information in them, but the third was a BlackBerry with a wealth of data on it.
Todd was able to discover that the Steyr-carrying assassin, and presumably his colleagues, worked for Aspinall Defence Resources based in Dubai, as that was who owned the Etisalat-powered BlackBerry, according to the opening screen.
The young soldier’s fingers and thumbs moved quickly and expertly across the BlackBerry keyboard, Googling the company to find that they were suppliers of security personnel, mercenaries by any other name, across the Middle East. Based in Mercury Tower on Sheikh Zayed Road, Aspinall Defence Resources was headed up by Nigel Bowron Aspinall.
Todd knew that he needed to speak to Nigel Bowron Aspinall as soon as possible; he needed to know who wanted him dead.
***
Todd parked the Land Cruiser and its macabre cargo at the entrance to the construction site that would, perhaps, become Mercury Tower 2 one day. The building had been excavated from basement to ground level, with its walls and floors concreted just before the financial collapse of 2008, when the site was abandoned. The young Australian unlocked the flimsy padlock with a set of lock picks and pushed one of the gates open just far enough to accommodate the Land Cruiser.
Once he had parked the vehicle on the site, and made a few adjustments to the passengers, he left the site, closed the gate and walked across a vast car park in the general direction of the Mercury Tower and ADR’s offices.
At the reception desk Todd asked a Pakistani security guard for details of the real estate agent who handled the vacant office space in the tower block, and was given a business card. The smiling security guard was keen for Todd to mention that he had been referred by Mohammed of Group 4, presumably hoping for a share of the commission. The Australian assured Mohammed that his help would be mentioned, before saying casually, “You know, I think an old friend of mine works here. His name is Nigel Aspinall.”
“Oh, yes. Mr Nigel has his international headquarters here on the 18th Floor. He is a very nice man,” Mohammed gushed, sensing a sale. “Yes, he’s a great guy,” Todd agreed. “I think he might live near me in Emirates Hills.”
“Oh, no, no,” Mohammed interrupted. “Mr Nigel lives at Arabian Ranches.” Todd’s face broke into a grin. After the day he’d had, it felt good to have a smile on his lips and a plan in his mind.
***
Todd walked back into the car park. Facing him were row upon row of canopies, simple pre-cast concrete structures which were roofed with corrugated metal. Their purpose was to shield cars from the harshest of the desert sun. In Todd’s experience they only partially succeeded in their stated task. As he walked along the rows he looked at the writing on the back of each bay. He was halfway along the second bay when he came across a series of bays marked ‘ADR ONLY’. The first three bays were filled with an old Mitsubishi saloon car, a Toyota Camry and a Hyundai Accent. His eyes then alighted on a Lexus 300, gold in colour with the full executive package of leather, DVD player and satnav. He was convinced that this was the vehicle he was looking for, and the fact that it was the closest ADR parking space to the office doors served to confirm his belief. Now he had to wait, and hope that he was right.
***
Nigel Bowron Aspinall was trying to concentrate on the proposal on the desk in front of him. Business had fallen off dramatically in the last year, and if he didn’t win a new assignment soon the business would falter. Back in the UK, if your business failed it was embarrassing, of course, but you would soon be up and running again - new name, new directors, unhappy creditors - but here in the United Arab Emirates, debt was still an offence that carried jail time. If ADR looked to be going down he would have to skip the country, and fast. It was such desperation that had driven him to accept assignments from people like Vincente Polletti.
The Italian crime lord from Down Under had already been on the phone, demanding to know whether the job had been done. Nigel assured him he would confirm that the task had been completed within the hour, but first he needed to hear from Laslo. Where was he? He was supposed to call as soon as the target was down, and the assault had been due to take place hours ago.
Nigel was biting his nails to the quick when the mobile phone on his desk vibrated. He picked it up immediately. The screen said ‘Laslo calling’. “At last,” Nigel whispered to himself as he lifted the phone to his ear.
***
Todd heard the phone ring out at the other end of the line. An impatient voice barked at him. “Laslo, where the hell have you been? Is it done?”
“I’m afraid Laslo can’t come to the phone right now. He asked me to pass on a message.”
There was stunned silence on the other end of the phone as Nigel Aspinall took in the ramifications of what he was hearing. The voice was young; he guessed late twenties, clearly in origin, probably New South Wales. Nigel employed many Australians and New Zealanders, and knew the various dialects well.
“Who is this, and how do you come to have a company phone? Obviously if you found it somewhere I could arrange a small reward for its return.” The bluff was as poor as it was transparent, but it was the best he could come up with in the seconds he had to react, and it had the advantage of being neutral if he was being recorded.
Todd Michaelson was smiling as he spoke, and on the other end of the phone Nigel could hear the smile in his voice. “Look, Nigel, I would love to banter all day, but time is short for you and you don’t want to waste a second of it, believe me.”
“I don’t know what you mean! Who are you?” Nigel blustered.
“I think you know very well who I am, and if you don’t, well, it doesn’t really matter. You a
nd I are going to have a chat.”
“Look, I think there’s obviously been some kind of mistake, but if I can help sort it out, we can talk. I have a few minutes before my next appointment.” Nigel felt as though he was beginning to get control of the situation until Todd replied.
“We won’t be talking on the phone, Nigel.” Todd paused. “Let me cut to the chase. I’m at Arabian Ranches, outside a very pleasant villa. Actually, you know it well. After all, it’s your villa.”
Todd heard the chair scrape back on the tiled floor as Nigel leapt to his feet on the other end of the phone.
“You keep away from my house! Keep away from my family, do you hear me? If you don’t, I’ll....”
“You’ll what?” Todd yelled angrily down the phone. “Send four armed men to kill me? They’ll have to be a lot better than the last four you sent.” There was a pause before he continued. “Yes, Nige, mate, I’m afraid you have four letters of condolence to write.”
Nigel was unwilling to accept that an unarmed security guard could have taken out four of his trained mercenaries, but he couldn’t come up with another explanation for the situation he now faced. He took a deep breath as he thought quickly about what he should do. His hostage negotiation training kicked in and he spoke more calmly.
“Look here, I’m a businessman. I don’t send out death squads. The thought of it is both repulsive and offensive. Clearly we have a situation here. If some of my men have gone freelance and tried to hurt you, we need to get this sorted out and get you some protection. Why don’t we meet at my office in an hour? I’ll help you get to the bottom of all this.”
“Nice try, Nige,” the Australian responded, equally calmly. “We will speak, but it’ll be when we meet outside your house in forty five minutes, and if you’re not here by then I’ll be going inside to introduce myself to your wife.”
“No!” Nigel said it a little more hurriedly than he had intended. “I’ll be there, but it may take more than forty five minutes.”
“Nige, if you are not at the house by four o’clock, I’ll be inside, so get a move on, mate!”
Nigel was about to plead for more time when he realised the line was dead. He looked at his Titanium Breitling Avenger watch. It read twelve minutes past three, and Arabian Ranches was at least thirty minutes away by car at this time of day. He needed to move.
Whilst he was packing up his things, he clamped the phone to his ear and speed dialled number 1. When the phone was answered he spoke quickly and assertively.
“Phil, don’t ask questions, just listen and do as I say. Michaelson has been on the phone and claims to have taken out Laslo’s team.” He paused for Phil to absorb the news and to swear angrily. “He’s waiting at my house, and he wants to talk. I want your team there in thirty minutes. We need to end this today.”
“But, boss, we’re guarding the Freeport site,” Phil responded.
“Phil, this is my family! Leave Ralph and the Beta team where you are but bring team Alpha with you, all six of you.”
“Six of us for one Aussie security guard?”
“Phil, just do it! We don’t have much time. He may have terminated four of team Delta already. No risks now. Let’s go!” He hung up, grabbed his jacket and briefcase and slipped his gun into the side pocket of his jacket as he walked to the lift.
It was three twenty when he exited the lift; he had forty minutes to get to Arabian Ranches. By a minute past four, Todd Michaelson would be dead. Even the intrepid Australian couldn’t out-manoeuvre the whole Alpha team.
***
Nigel Aspinall clicked the Lexus remote twice and his car boot opened. He threw in his briefcase and slammed the lid. He slipped into the gold coloured limousine and put his jacket on the seat beside him. He slipped the fob into the ignition and started the car.
The car door opened and closed so quickly that he didn’t know what was happening until he felt the cold steel of a gun barrel on his neck. His eyes darted to the rear view mirror, where he saw the deeply tanned and dark-haired Australian’s smoky grey eyes staring back at him.
“You!” he exclaimed, puzzled at first and then annoyed by his own stupidity. “I thought you were at my house!”
“Yes, I know you did. Of course, that would be tricky as I don’t know where you live.” Todd noticed that his hostage sighed with relief before remembering that he was now alone with a killer.
A few moments later, after driving less than four hundred metres, Nigel found himself being ordered out of his car and into the passenger seat of the black Land Cruiser. He recoiled in horror as he opened the door to the macabre sight of his men, all dead, all sitting strapped into their seatbelts with weapons at the ready.
When Aspinall eventually sat down in the mobile morgue, Todd used the luggage straps to tie his hands to the holding bar mounted on the dashboard, after making him fasten his seatbelt. The smell in the vehicle was rancid and the temperature was close to a hundred degrees, and so the young Australian leaned over the unseeing Laslo and turned on the engine and the air conditioning.
“Don’t want you suffocating, mate!” he said as frozen air pumped out of the car’s vents into their faces.
Todd leaned against the door and, with the gun in his hand, he grinned at ADR’s Managing Director.
“One simple question. You answer and I get to go home, and you get to explain to the local constabulary why you’re being chauffeured around by zombies. Who paid you to kill me?”
Nigel wasn’t about to give up the name of his client, but he knew his options were limited. He had no doubt that no answer would lead to some serious torture, and most probably his death. Aspinall had his pride. He might be sitting behind a desk these days, but in his prime he had been a paratrooper and he had seen action around the world. He decided that he would hold out for a while and see where this went.
Todd fitted the silencer onto the Sig Sauer P38 and placed the barrel against Aspinall’s knee.
“Come on, Nige. What are the kids going to say when Daddy can’t walk any more, when he can’t play with them? Give it up. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Sweat beading on his forehead and heart racing, Nigel stubbornly spat out, “You didn’t seem to have any problem killing four men earlier today!”
Before Todd could explain the difference between self defence and torturing a defenceless man, a shrill tone rang out and a light illuminated Nigel’s shirt pocket. Todd lifted out the mobile phone and looked at the screen. An Australian number was calling. Before taking the call he said, “I think this call is for me.” Nigel yelled some obscenity but Todd just closed the car door and, using his best British accent, he answered.
“Hello.”
The voice he heard in reply sent a chill down Todd’s spine.
“Well, Aspinall? Is he dead yet?”
With all of the control he could muster, the Australian reverted to his own voice and said, “Vincente! Long time no hear!”
For the second time in an hour there was a stunned silence at the other end of the phone. A good ten seconds passed before the Australian based crime lord found his voice.
“Michaelson! You are a dead man! Maybe not today, but soon. I have nothing to say to you.”
Todd sensed that he was about to hang up, and so he quickly interjected. “Vince, can I take it that this is the number the Australian police can reach you on when they need to speak to you about conspiracy to murder?”
There was a vitriolic tirade in Italian before the line went dead.
With no further need for Mr Aspinall, or his dead buddies, Todd wiped the Sig clean of his prints and returned to the Land Cruiser. He would call the authorities and let them deal with Aspinall. They could ask him why Vince Polletti was calling him. By then Todd would be somewhere else; somewhere safe.
Todd was wiping clean the mobile phone and the gun as he opened the door to the Land Cruiser. Without warning two feet flew at his chest, as Aspinall kicked out whilst trying to free his hands.
To
dd landed on his backside on the concrete surface as his attacker swung back into the vehicle. Aspinall almost had his hands free when the Land Cruiser began to move forward very slowly. Both men looked surprised, then realised that as he had swung back into the seat the man in the car had knocked the stick change onto Drive from Park.
With his hands still loosely tied, Nigel Aspinall tried to manoeuvre his leg to move the gear shift back to Park, but the centre console was in his way. Todd jumped up and ran to the vehicle, trying to help, tossing the phone and gun into the footwell as he attempted to reach for the stick shift. As he leaned in, Aspinall got one hand free and went for the gun. Todd tried to grab his wrist and the stick shift at the same time, but he was already being dragged along by the moving vehicle. With one hand nearing the gun and his head ducked well below the dashboard, Aspinall flicked his head to the side and butted Todd on the temple. Todd fell out of the car and the door swung shut. He looked up to see the Land Cruiser moving ever closer to the excavations, and shouted a warning which went unheeded.
Inside the car, the delivery of the head butt had disoriented Aspinall and he had to scrabble around in the footwell for the gun. Eventually he had it in his hand and straightened up in his seat, only to see the edge of the excavation just feet ahead. Forgetting his hand was still tied, he tried to move it to shift the car into Park. By the time he had dropped the gun and moved his free hand to the gear shift, the front wheels were over the pilings and the Land Cruiser was left seesawing on the edge of a forty foot drop, back wheels spinning.
Todd ran towards the teetering vehicle just in time to see the car rock back onto its spinning wheels one last time. He watched in horror as the rear wheels managed to find some traction and the Land Cruiser pushed itself over the edge.
Shadow of the Burj Page 3
