Revenge

by Mark A. Cooper

  The plane broke through the clouds, and with her faced pressed against the window, Joanne suddenly saw the French countryside. With miniature houses and cars dotted around, the brilliant sunshine of the Spanish mainland had been replaced by the gray and uncertain weather of France.

  “We’re in France now,” he shouted to Joanne. She was looking at the rich green fields below. Cows looked like dots, and the French farmhouses looked like toys. Jason checked his compass and tried looking at the map. After a few minutes, he gave up and threw the map over his shoulder.

  “I’m lost.”

  “What about the map?”

  “I’ve no idea where we are. I didn’t follow a course. I just avoided the mountains. I’ll just land somewhere. We don’t have too much fuel anyway,” he shouted back, unconcerned.

  Joanne crossed her fingers as the plane banked and slowly started going down. Jason spotted a large field. It had trees at either end, but he was sure he could get low enough and land safely.

  The plane’s undercarriage missed the tops of the trees by just a few feet. Jason lowered it down and made a landing that was probably one of the best he had ever done. Once he turned the engine off, Joanne gave a sigh of relief. Jason was pleased with his first solo flight since he had gotten his pilot’s license.

  A few hundred yards away, he could see a farmhouse. He opened the roof of the cockpit and climbed out. They walked slowly toward the tiny farmhouse. A rooster was crowing. As they got closer, a man stepped out and raised his hand.

  “Bonjour!” Jason shouted.

  “Bonjour!” came a reply from the farmer, who crossed his arms, smiled, and shook his head. He was in his midforties with sand-colored hair and weather-beaten cheeks that suggested years spent outdoors.

  “I have seen it all now. Children flying around the countryside to say good morning,” he said in French.

  “I’m afraid we’re lost, sir. Do you have a telephone I can use?” Jason asked in French.

  • • •

  “This is Jason Steed. I need to speak to George Young.”

  Eventually an unfamiliar voice came on the phone.

  “Jason, it’s good to hear from you. I’m Simon Caldwell and currently running things here. George Young has taken a few days off. The stress of all this and his son’s injuries. I’m sure you understand. Where are you?”

  “France, just north of the Pyrenees in a village called Luz. We are at a small farm called Luz Orchard.”

  “Good. I’m glad you are safe. The girl, is she with you?”

  “Yes, of course, she is. I’m not going to leave her. Now that we’re out of Spain, can someone come and get us?”

  “Yes, Jason. Stay where you are. I’ll have someone there in a few hours. How did you get there?”

  “I stole a plane. Will it be safe to come home yet?”

  “Almost, Jason. We have one or two loose ends to tie up and then you will be coming home. Stay where you are. Soon it will be all over.”

  When Jason put down the phone, he felt uneasy. Something didn’t seem right. It was too easy.

  “May I use the phone again?” he asked the farmer. “I want to make sure they bring the correct fuel,” Jason said.

  He picked up the phone and dialed Scott’s house.

  “Hello,” a familiar woman’s voice answered.

  “Mrs. Turner, it’s Jason. I need to talk to Scott.”

  “Sorry, Jason. He’s just left for school. Hang on. I can still see him. I will run out and call him.” The phone line went quiet for a minute.

  “Jase?”

  “Scott?”

  “It’s good to hear your voice, mate. Where are you?”

  “France.”

  “Wow, you sure get around. I’m glad you called. I need to talk to you.” Scott explained everything—George’s disappearance and the police commissioner’s warning that Jason was not to trust anyone. “Jason, listen to me. I have this information from the highest authority—someone who cares about you. Whatever you do, don’t trust anyone.”

  “Scott, I can trust SYUI.”

  “Jason. I’m serious. From now on, you trust no one. Oh, and one more thing.”

  “What?”

  “Please look after yourself, mate. I miss you.”

  • • •

  Five hours later, two black BMWs drove down the farm lane. Jason watched from the window as four men got out and one walked toward the farmhouse.

  Jason went outside to meet him. He was a tall, slim man in his thirties, with short dark hair and watchful eyes. He wore jeans and a white shirt. Draped over his shoulders was a black leather jacket with a poppy in his buttonhole. It grabbed Jason’s attention. Of course, it was November. It would soon be Remembrance Sunday, when the whole of England wore poppies and held a two-minute silence for those killed in the wars.

  “Jason Steed? Whoa! They were right. You are just a kid. You flew in on that?” he said, pointing at the plane with his thumb.

  “Yeah, and you are?” Jason asked.

  “Patrick Thomas. We’re with MI6. SYUI asked us to pick you up, as they don’t have any agents in France. We were here on a mission anyway. Let’s get going. We need to get you two safe as soon as possible.”

  Jason ran into the farmhouse and thanked the farmer and his wife. When he came back out, both cars had now moved down to the farmhouse. Joanne stuck by Jason’s side. Something was wrong with what Patrick had just said to Jason. He could not put his finger on it, so he ignored it.

  “Okay, Jason, you’ll be riding with Jack and Trevor, and you, my pretty, will be riding with me and Tony.”

  “No, I’m going in the same car as Jason,” Joanne argued.

  “You’ll be fine with us, love. Jason will be fine. We’re all going to the same place, but it’s harder for them to hit two cars. I can assure you we are professionals. We know what we are doing. Come along,” Patrick said as he opened the back of the car. Joanne gave Jason a look and he picked up on it.

  “Patrick, we go together,” Jason said abruptly.

  “No, Jason. Like I said, we need to make it harder for the Triad hit men.”

  “We’ve made it this far together. I managed to defend us myself. Now I have you professionals too. We should be doubly safe.” Jason smirked as he climbed in the back of the car with Joanne. Patrick marched around to the other door and opened it.

  “Jason, out. That’s an order.” He glared down at the boy.

  “I don’t take orders from MI6. If you’ve read my file, you know you can’t physically force me out. I am not moving,” Jason snapped. He snatched the door handle and pulled it shut.

  Patrick cursed under his breath and waved the others away. As Patrick sat in the front passenger seat, he turned around and glared at the boy. “You just made my job a whole lot easier.” He turned and faced the front before he said “Let’s go.” The two cars sped off, leaving the farmer with an aircraft in their field and no explanation.

  Joanne put her hand on Jason’s. He looked at her, and she gave a tight-lipped smile. She did not need to say anything. He knew she was grateful. Jason took her hand and sat in deep thought. He raised his hand to his forehead and rubbed his head.

  Don’t trust anyone, Scott said. You just made my job a whole lot easier, Patrick said. No, Patrick is MI6. He wouldn’t hurt us.

  He tried to piece together the puzzle. His instincts were telling him something was wrong.

  The poppy. They don’t wear them in France. Patrick said he was here in France anyway. Why would he be wearing a poppy? Unless he lied and just flew over from the United Kingdom. Why would he lie to me?

  “Patrick, are we going to meet George Young?” Jason asked.

  Patrick looked across at the driver who paused and turned around. “Oh, yes. Soon this wi
ll be all over for you. You’ll meet George Young real soon.” He gave a smirk and turned back around. The driver looked at Patrick. Jason could see in the mirror that the driver almost laughed at the remark. He took Joanne’s hand out of his right one and placed it on his leg. She looked at him, and he looked back without speaking. He looked at Patrick and silently mouthed the word “Shush.” She immediately understood and kept quiet. Slowly he put his hand down the front of his pants and found the gun. He gently pulled it out and flicked the safety switch off.

  Chapter 27

  They had been driving north for two hours before they turned off the main road. They followed the other car down a small lane. When they came across a large wooded area, the front car stopped in a clearing.

  “Why are we stopping here?” Jason asked, concerned.

  “It’s a safe place where we can stretch our legs. We have a long way to go, and I’m sure you need a bathroom break,” Patrick replied.

  “I’m fine,” Joanne said.

  “So you do speak. Well, stretch your legs anyway.”

  Jason was not sure if he had read the situation right or not. It was a safe place to stop after all. He moved closer to Joanne and put his right hand and gun behind her back. He lifted the back of her cardigan and forced the gun into the back of her shorts. She didn’t question it and positioned herself to allow Jason access. Once it was secure, he pulled her cardigan over the back of her shorts.

  Patrick climbed out. Jason opened his door, climbed out, and made sure Joanne came with him. Once outside, he put his arm around her waist. The other agents stood by their car and watched Patrick and the driver, but nothing was said. A large cloud covered the sun and cast a dark shadow and deadly silence. Jason’s nerves were tingling.

  “You look like a couple of young lovers. Is he your boyfriend?” asked the driver. Joanne forced a smile but made no comment. Trevor opened the trunk of his car. He put his hand in and lifted what looked like the handle of a shovel and then put it back after he looked at Patrick. Jason moved his hand under the back of Joanne’s cardigan and found the gun. Slowly he pulled it out from the back of her shorts and found the trigger with his finger. He moved it up her back and kept it hidden by her cardigan.

  These guys are MI6. I can’t afford to miss.

  Patrick put his back to them and took something out of his pocket. Before Jason could move, the man turned and pointed a gun at them.

  “Sorry, kids. We’re following orders. You did a good job, but now it’s a bloody mess. The powers that be want it cleaned up and quick. There is a general election in three weeks, and it’s too close to call. Jason, once you join George Young and we hand the girl over to the Chinese, it will end,” Patrick said. The driver took the shovel out of the trunk, and without showing any emotion, he stuck it in the ground and started digging a grave.

  “My dad will get you for this!” Joanne shouted.

  “No, he won’t. He’ll just be pleased to have you back.”

  “But you could be passing her over to the Triads,” Jason pleaded.

  “No, give us some credit. They will send another agent to collect her. The last guy, one of their top secret agents, was killed outside the police station,” Patrick spoke calmly and kept the gun pointed at Jason.

  The man in white, Jason thought.

  Jason kept his hand and gun underneath her cardigan. She turned and hugged him, crying out loud, her back to Patrick. Jason concentrated, ready to make his move.

  “Any last requests?” Jason asked.

  “No, you don’t get any, son,” he said.

  “Actually, I was asking you.” Jason aimed the gun and fired at Patrick twice. The bullets went through Joanne’s cardigan and hit the target. Jason put his right foot behind Joanne’s legs and pushed her over onto the ground. As she fell, he opened fire on the driver, and the bullet went directly into his chest and pierced his heart. Out of the corner of his eye, Jason noticed the other two agents taking their guns out of their jackets. He dove to the ground and fired at them. One was hit in the chest. The other jumped over the front of their car and fired back.

  Jason crawled along the gravel and hid behind Patrick’s body. He took aim at the agent’s car but was out of bullets. He scrambled along the ground for Patrick’s gun. A flurry of bullets pounded the body of Patrick and gravel all around Jason. The gunfire ceased. Jason peered over Patrick’s body and noticed the agent was crawling behind the car.

  He’s out of bullets too!

  Jason ran toward the car and then dove on the ground. When he looked under the car, he could see the man trying to crawl away. Jason opened fire, shooting the underside of the car and catching the fuel tank. A large ball of flame shot out from the back of the car, eventually engulfing the whole car in flames. Jason rolled away from the growing heat. The MI6 agent started screaming as his clothing caught fire. Jason ran and pulled him away from the burning car, rolling him over in the process. His Sea Cadet first aid training became useful.

  Once he was clear, he ran back to check on Joanne. She sat up and looked at the two holes in the back of her cardigan.

  “Are you all right?” Jason asked.

  She nodded.

  He helped her up and then walked over to the surviving agent. He was lying on his back and holding his chest wound. The skin on the back of his hands and one side of his face was burned, swollen, and seeping.

  “Why? Why did you save me?” he groaned.

  “I may still kill you. I may put you through a lot of pain first. Or I may take you to a hospital. I know what you would prefer, but in return, you have to talk to me. We’re on the same side.”

  “They were good agents, good men, and good friends.”

  “If they are so good, why would you want to kill me? What did I do wrong?” Jason shouted.

  “What Patrick told you. You did a great job uncovering Boudica’s operation. But she got away and you stirred up a hornet’s nest. The Triads will stop at nothing. The amount of people killed in Spain was nothing short of a massacre. The Spanish authorities have put a huge amount of pressure on the British government. With you out of the way, everything can settle down before the election.”

  Jason sat down next to Trevor and put his head between his knees, trying to think. It was a shock to learn that he was not only hunted by the Triads and the Spanish police but his own country.

  “What can I do? I can’t run forever. How can it be stopped?” Feeling betrayed by his own country, his voice started breaking and his eyes welled up.

  The agent studied Jason. The poor kid was scared to death and way out of his depth. He felt sorry for him. “You should have taken out Boudica. We know the Triads are gathering somewhere here in France, but we’re not sure where. We think George Young knew, but he’s now probably at the bottom of the River Thames. You’ll just have to keep running and hide.” Trevor groaned in pain.

  “Who gave the order to kill me?”

  “Jason, I can’t say that.”

  “I need to know.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I can’t tell you. That’s one thing I will never do—betray my superior officers.”

  “You would rather die?”

  “Yes,” the man said.

  Jason looked at him. He admired his loyalty.

  “You just lost your trip to the hospital, but I will call and get you help.” He picked himself up and walked back over to Joanne.

  “Can you drive?” he asked.

  “No, but I am sure you can.”

  “Actually, I can’t.” Jason looked a little embarrassed. “But it’s an automatic car, so it should be simple.” He took the wallets from all the MI6 agents so he’d have money. He sat in the front of the car and pulled the driver’s seat as far forward as it would go. He could just reach the brake and throttle. He found a road map and studied it.
>
  “Buckle up. Let’s go.”

  “Where?”

  “Mont Blanc. George Young mentioned it to me. He told me he would love to be able to go to Mont Blanc in France and get Boudica. I think that’s where the Triads are meeting.”

  “Jason, that’s the last place in the world we want to be,” she gasped.

  “No…it’s the last place they would expect us to be. It’s the only place to find Boudica and end this.”

  Chapter 28

  Jason gingerly drove the car a few feet and slowly turned around and then drove back down the lane. Once on the main road, he found it hard to go the same speed as the other cars. He sat as close to the wheel as he could. He was surprised to find it was actually hard to drive.

  “We are drawing attention, Jason. Go faster.” With his knuckles white with the tight grip he had on the steering wheel, he slowly increased his speed to be the same as the other cars. “Jason, you’re too close to the edge. Keep over a bit,” she said, trying to move away from the side of the car. Eventually he got used to it and could relax slightly.

  After seven hours driving with the occasional stop for fuel and snacks, they stopped at a truck stop, found a quiet corner, and parked for the night. They slept in the back together and woke cold and hungry early in the morning. Jason drove for another four hours until the road ran parallel to the French and Italian border. He started to enjoy the drive. His car was powerful and responsive. The tinted windows help prevent other drivers getting a good look at him and his age.

  Eventually the huge, snow-covered mountains and Mont Blanc, the largest of them all, poked out of the low clouds. The village of Saint-Gervais-les-Bains was a ski resort. It was early November, and although cold and covered with snow, the heavy snows had not yet fallen. Within a month, the village would come alive with skiers from around the world.

  They went to the center of activity, a small café, and spoke to some of the local people. He invented a story that he and his stepsister were with their parents, who were looking to buy a lodge in the area. He said that they had gotten bored and had come to the village. They joined two elderly men who sat outside. They welcomed the young strangers, especially when Jason bought them both a fresh coffee. Joanne looked up at the surrounding mountains. The village was in a valley, and it was just starting to get its winter cloak of snow. Above, the great purple-blue mountains poked out above the clouds—their flanks gleaming with swathes of white.