Latent Hazard rkadika-1

by Piers Venmore-Rowland

  ‘I hope this doesn’t hurt,’ said Kate as she looked at the bruises on his back.

  He felt her fingers softly glide on the silky lather, gently massaging his muscles. They slowly worked their way from his shoulders down to the bottom of his back, skirting around his bruises. She was in a playful mood.

  Kate recalled her first sight of him in the interrogation room. He had looked ordinary and cheerless. Then seeing him after his shower in the changing room at Wood Street police station, partially undressed, it had been a revelation. She smiled, he was gorgeous. His body was willowy but manly… The soap slipped out of her fingers. As she bent over to pick it up he tickled her.

  Kate let out a loud shreik.

  Moments later, there was a loud bang as the bathroom door flew open. There on the other side of the steamed up glass was the outline of a man holding a gun. Rafi’s heart missed a beat as the faces of Radu Dranoff and Aslan Popovskaya flashed into his mind. He stood petrified, his pulse racing. Time stood still.

  ‘Sorry mate, I thought you had unwanted company!’ came an embarrassed voice. The door closed and Brett, the SAS man was gone.

  Rafi stood motionless under the hot drizzling water. ‘Are you alright?’ asked Kate.

  ‘I guess so,’ replied Rafi shakily. He still had the outline of the gun framed in his mind. ‘That gave me quite a shock.’

  Kate changed the shower’s controls and, under a torrent of water, quickly hosed off the sea of bubbles.

  ‘Brought reality back with a bang… Ehh?’ and gave Rafi a hug. ‘Let’s get you dry and tucked up in bed’.

  The low morning sun streamed in to the bedroom through the small gaps around the curtains. A ray of light danced on Rafi’s face. The daylight had woken Kate half an hour earlier. She had come round to find Rafi asleep in her arms, with his serene face close to hers, and had carefully examined every inch of it many times over. Kate smiled as she thought about the man lying next to her.

  The fluttering of Rafi’s dark eyelashes brought her out of her daydreams.

  ‘Good morning darling. I hope you slept well,’ she said softly.

  ‘Like a log.’

  Kate lent forward and gave him a kiss. ‘How about breakfast in bed?’

  ‘Nice idea. What about a full English breakfast with orange juice and coffee, in say half an hour? And we don’t even need to use the phone to order.’

  ‘Pardon…? Oh, I forgot that our SAS friends are listening in.’

  Half an hour later there was a knock at the door, and Brett entered carrying a tray laden with their breakfast. ‘I hope you don’t mind me using the spare key?’ He put the tray down and smiled at Rafi and Kate snuggled up in a single bed. ‘And I hope I didn’t barge in on you.’ He grinned, turned and left.

  Their breakfast was interrupted by a phone call from Jeremy. ‘There’s no sign of Dranoff or Popovskaya. Have you seen the morning papers?’

  ‘Not yet,’ replied Kate.

  ‘Well, there’s a picture in one of the tabloids of the two of you having dinner. If that’s not a red rag to a bull, I don’t know what is. The terrorists now know exactly where you are. Brett has asked for you to stay in your room. Sorry if it cramps your style, but…’

  ‘That’s alright,’ butted in Kate. ‘Rafi and I’ll be fine.’

  The rest of the morning passed slowly. Rafi read the papers and was in particular fascinated by an article in The Independent which gave details of the exclusion zone around Stratford and provided a summary of the building works that were in progress, and of those planned. It showed maps and explained how the transport and key utilities were being rerouted around the newly named ‘Isle of Stratford’.

  Kate meanwhile lazed around, read a magazine and wrote postcards to her parents and her brother.

  They opted for an early lunch in their room.

  ‘Now what?’ enquired Kate. ‘I’m fed up with writing cards and reading.’

  She picked up the hotel brochure. ‘Hey Rafi, do you like swimming? There’s a heated indoor pool. I wonder if Brett would let us go for a swim later?’

  ‘If you can find me a pair of trunks, I’ll be there,’ replied Rafi.

  Kate got up, rummaged around in her suitcase and pulled out two swimming costumes. ‘I packed these just in case – I love water.’ She held up a black Speedo one-piece and then a couple of scraps of blue material. ‘A friend got me the bikini in Brazil a couple of years ago, but I haven’t had the courage to wear it!’

  ‘I can see why,’ said Rafi with a big smile.

  ‘Would you like to see it on?’ enquired Kate.

  ‘Yes please.’

  Kate disappeared into the bathroom. Several minutes later she reappeared. ‘So what do you think?’

  Rafi looked at her. The Speedo swimsuit fitted her like a glove – flattening out her contours, giving her figure the look of a teenager.

  ‘This is what I usually wear. It’s not very flattering is it? Now what do you think of this…?’ She peeled off the one-piece, revealing the skimpy bikini.

  Rafi’s eyes were drawn to the small blue triangles which accentuated her subtle sexy curves. ‘You look amazing…’

  Kate moved towards Rafi, her fingers playing with the thin blue strings that held the flimsy bikini together. ‘Now if I pull this and this…’ she said, stepping forward in her nothingness, ‘You get just me!’

  At 4.30 p.m. Brett knocked on the door and entered carrying a tray of Cornish cream tea. ‘Hope I didn’t wake you, but I thought you might like some sustenance.’ He put the tray down on the side table. ‘I have some news. Jeremy phoned. He hopes you are not getting bored stiff, and says that Jameel and co. are safely in custody on English soil and are seriously disgruntled. All they want to know about is what the long gilts index and interest rates are doing. We haven’t broken the bad news to them, as yet. Oh, by the way, Maryam is under lock and key at a safe house. Neil Gunton is looking forward to playing her off against the others.’

  ‘Thanks Brett,’ said Kate, ‘And thank you for watching over us.’

  ‘My pleasure. Let me know if you need anything else. If not, I’ll be back at supper time,’ he smiled as he left.

  Kate picked up the bedside phone and rang reception. ‘What time does the post go…? OK, thanks.’ She leant forwards and kissed Rafi warmly on the lips. ‘I have to nip downstairs to buy stamps – the post goes in five minutes. Sending cards to the family is something we always used to do… I thought my parents would like a card showing the hotel and its beach.’ Kate dressed quickly and went downstairs.

  Wrapped in a bathrobe Rafi sat by the window. It was dark outside. The floodlights accentuated the driving rain. He sat there thinking of very little. Next to him on the table, was a Sig Sauer P226 revolver, which had been given to him by Brett. ‘Its small size,’ Brett had explained, ‘Means you can carry it on you without showing a telltale bulge. All you need to know is that it has seven. 38 calibre rounds, which will stop a man if you hit him anywhere in the torso. Remember, it has a safety catch on the thumb side for right-handers. This little beauty has only a modest kick; aim a little low unless you’ve had time to cradle the gun properly.’ Brett had shown him how to hold the gun. ‘Be instinctive and please bear in mind that if you are aiming at a person thirty feet away, your accuracy as an amateur will be in the order of six feet. So please be extra careful of bystanders!’

  Rafi recalled his fervently hoping that he would never have to use the gun. Kate had put hers in her handbag. He’d left his on the table; he didn’t know what else to do with it.

  He watched as a pair of bright headlights arced down the windswept drive. They belonged to a silver Range Rover. It parked opposite the hotel and out stepped a well-built man wearing a flat hat, plus fours and a checked sports jacket; he also had a Barbour jacket slung over his left shoulder.

  If it had been me in this rain, Rafi thought, I’d have had the Barbour on and not draped over my shoulder. Rafi watched as the man glanced around, turned and
strode towards the front door.

  Rafi sensed something wasn’t right. The man’s face was obscured by his hat and coat. He was walking straight towards the door; in front of him was a large puddle. He didn’t walk around it but straight through it, and that’s when Rafi noticed his shoes. They were heavy, black, scuffed leather boots – the sort one would associate with a navvy or a soldier. He was thickset and his gait wasn’t that of a well-heeled City gent.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Rafi gasped and jumped to his feet. He felt certain he had just been looking at Dranoff. He picked up his gun and bolted out of the room, running down the corridor barefooted, with his white bathrobe untied and streaming out behind him. As he passed Brett’s door, he banged on it and shouted, ‘Dranoff’s downstairs and so is Kate!’

  At the top of the stairs an elderly couple shrieked as he ran past them. Rafi grabbed the banister rail with his good left hand and swung round and down the wide stairs.

  In a couple of bounds he’d reached the half landing. As he headed down the last flight of stairs, the man came into view – he was walking through the reception area. Rafi focused on what little he could see of his face. Yes, it was Dranoff!

  Neither of the SAS men from outside was following him. Rafi saw Kate sitting across from the bottom of the stairs, sticking a stamp on to her postcard. Dranoff was just on the other side of the glass divide between her and the reception area.

  Her eyes looked up and met Dranoff’s as he pushed through the glass swing door between them. Out from under the Barbour jacket came a sawn-off shotgun.

  ‘No! It can’t end like this,’ thought Rafi. He let out a bloodcurdling scream, flicked the safety catch off and pointed his pistol towards the terrorist. He couldn’t shoot at him – there were too many people close by and with the gun in his bruised hand he could hit practically anyone within ten feet of what he aimed at. But he had to shoot to distract Dranoff and to draw his fire. Still screaming, Rafi fired at the plate glass window next to Dranoff.

  There was a loud bang and a crash of splintering glass.

  Dranoff swung his gun round and fired both barrels. The wooden banister rail at Rafi’s side erupted into a swarm of flying splinters, as he fell headlong down the stairs.

  For Rafi everything went pitch black.

  Chapter 9

  Slowly, Rafi opened his eyes. He could see nothing. He couldn’t move; his head was in a vice. Where was he? To his left there was, he thought, a faint red glow and a dull bleeping noise. He tried moving again but nothing happened. His head ached, as did his stomach, right arm and thigh. He picked up the smell of disinfectant. It suddenly dawned on him; he was in hospital.

  Rafi felt something warm in his left hand. He squeezed it wondering what it might be. It moved and squeezed him back. A grey shadow moved into his line of sight. His eyes began to focus. There, sitting by him, was Kate.

  ‘He’s coming round!’ she called out in a croaky voice. Rafi’s head was immobilised. He couldn’t see who else was there. The door opened and light flooded in. He could see Kate’s face out of the corner of his eye. She looked tired; her eyes were red and puffy.

  ‘It’s so good to have you back,’ she whispered, holding his hand firmly, as if he might leave.

  He saw a nurse bending over him. ‘How do you feel?’ she asked.

  ‘Sore,’ he replied.

  ‘How’s your head?’

  ‘Sore.’

  ‘Your leg?’

  ‘Sore.’

  ‘Your side?’

  ‘Sore.’

  ‘Your right arm?’

  ‘Very painful, thank you.’

  ‘It’s to be expected, I’m afraid… What’s the last thing you can remember?’

  He hesitated, as his mind lurched back to the hotel reception area and the stairs.

  ‘When Kate saw Dranoff… Just before I was shot,’ he replied.

  ‘Excellent; that’s good news – no amnesia.’

  Rafi felt his strength ebb away as he was asked a series of further questions. He fell silent.

  ‘Nurse, how is he?’ asked Kate.

  ‘Considering everything, surprisingly well. I will fetch the doctor to look him over.’

  The nurse reappeared with a doctor in tow. The doctor carefully checked Rafi and his wounds, then turned to Kate.

  ‘The bang to his head gave him severe concussion. Thankfully there doesn’t seem to be any long-term damage. The antibiotics are fighting the infection to his wounds. I’ve never known someone add cat excrement to twelve bore cartridges… Very nasty, indeed.’

  He paused. ‘There may be some more splinters to be removed; it was difficult to pick them all up on the X-rays. The wounds to the right side of his stomach and chest are mending well. His wrist is badly sprained and his elbow has been relocated and should mend well too.’

  He looked at Kate and Rafi. ‘I’ve never seen such bruising. The initial X-rays appear to show that there are no broken bones, but I’d like to run a few more tests before we remove his neck brace.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Kate. ‘Can I chat to him?’

  ‘Yes, but don’t tire him. No more than a couple of minutes, then let him sleep.’

  Rafi looked up and saw tears in Kate’s eyes.

  ‘I thought I’d lost you!’ She slowly bent over and kissed him.

  ‘How long have I been here?’ he enquired.

  ‘Nearly four days. I feel awful that we let you down.’

  Rafi tried to smile, but his head and face remained immobile. ‘That’s OK. Silly question, but where am I?’

  ‘Plymouth Hospital. You were making an awful mess of the hotel’s carpets. There was a retired doctor on holiday in the hotel. He managed to stem the bleeding and insisted that you were taken to the nearest hospital with a major accident and emergency unit as quickly as humanly possible. He gave you less than an hour if you didn’t get into a good A amp;E Department. Luckily, an SAS helicopter was nearby. The retired doctor insisted on staying with you for the journey.’

  ‘Just as well,’ said the surgeon standing by his bed. ‘You lost a large quantity of blood and needed a lot of patching up. Thankfully, underneath the mess you weren’t as badly shot up as we had thought. You should thank Mr Welby for tipping us off about the shotgun cartridges smelling foul and the potential infection problems. You succumbed and ran a high fever for the first couple of days, but we were able to limit the complications. We’ve managed to help your natural defences fight the bacteria with some strong antibiotics.’

  Rafi looked at Kate. ‘Have I missed anything while I’ve been out of action?’

  ‘Not really. I’ve kept some newspapers for you to read, just in case.’

  ‘Thank you…’ Rafi mumbled and drifted back to sleep.

  He remembered little of the next thirty-six hours. There were fleeting moments of consciousness followed by more sleep. Whenever he awoke, Kate was there beside him, holding his hand. Painfully and slowly, he returned to the land of the living.

  One morning his neck brace was gone and he was no longer pinned into position flat on his back. The nurse showed Kate how the electric bed worked and how to adjust the mattress so that Rafi could sit up.

  The curtains were opened and daylight streamed in. As he was slowly brought up into a sitting position, Rafi looked down to see his right arm bandaged up and his side, from his ribs to his knee, covered in dressings. He felt light-headed and his bottom felt burning hot. Kate smiled at him. Her face was tired but gone were the puffy red eyes.

  ‘Thank you for saving my life,’ she said as she held his hand. ‘I shall always remember…’ She couldn’t continue as the horror of the gunfight flooded back.

  ‘Was anyone else hurt?’

  ‘There were a few minor cuts from flying glass, but otherwise you were the only casualty other than Dranoff, who was taken out by Brett, the SAS soldier, following you down the stairs. Popovskaya has been captured and is safely locked away. It was all a bit of a cock-up,’ Kate explained. ‘The two
SAS men watching the front entrance of the hotel missed Dranoff. How did you know it was him?’

  ‘Hunting and shooting types driving smart Range Rovers in smart shooting kit don’t drape their Barbour coat over their shoulder in the pouring rain and don’t wear scuffed, heavy, black boots. When I couldn’t see his face, which he’d covered with his hat and a Barbour slung over his shoulder, I guessed it might be Dranoff. I picked up the gun and ran to warn you.’

  Rafi stopped speaking for a moment. ‘When he saw you and pulled out the sawn-off shotgun and swung it towards you, I thought I was going to lose you.’ There were tears in his eyes. He couldn’t see Kate’s as she’d turned away.

  Another person had entered the room – it was Colonel Turner. ‘Good to see you in one piece. Sorry about the cock-up. Thanks to your quick thinking, a real disaster was averted. I hear you got peppered by the sawn-off shotgun. and that your dive for cover behind the wrought iron banisters saved you. They tell me that the wooden handrail was blown to smithereens. The SAS man behind you was very impressed by your reactions: shooting to attract the attention of the terrorist and diving at the same time. He wondered if you had military training.’

  Rafi grinned. ‘Simple good fortune – I missed my footing as I looked for the darn safety catch and for something to shoot at. I couldn’t aim straight for the terrorist – there were too many people I could have hit. I actually tripped just as I fired at the big glass window.’

  ‘Good work all the same. I’m pleased to see you on the mend. I’ll drop by when you’re up and about for a debriefing.’ The surgeon appeared at the door. The colonel excused himself and left.

  Rafi spent the next half an hour being brought up to speed on his various injuries. ‘There’s quite a number,’ said the surgeon, running through them as if they were on a shopping list. ‘A posterior dislocation of the elbow which has been successfully relocated; fourteen stitches in the head and two drill holes as a result of the emergency surgery to relieve the pressure; six pellets in the thigh and buttocks and several more in the flank, which went into your intestines and lung – we’ve patched them up, but I had to remove a small part of your lung.’ The surgeon paused and smiled. ‘With a good convalescence, you’ll soon be right as rain.’