by Rees, Kevin
Aquino’s words struck home about the need for diplomacy even when the situation might not be the obvious place to deploy the tactic.
‘That won’t be necessary, Colonel,’ Karl acknowledged. ‘Cole, give the order for the team to rendezvous here immediately.’
‘Thank you, Karl. My report will not contain this small stressor you have, no doubt. experienced from your tragic loss.’ He turned to his bodyguards. ‘Gentlemen, can you please notify our cleaning firm to get in here quickly and sanitise from roof to basement.’ The three men filed into Eddie’s office to organise the next phase.
Karl wanted to squeeze the man’s neck until his head exploded. It seemed there was a growing reluctance to pursue and capture Father, and this was making him very suspicious of Sixsmith and his masters. Why allow the assault? Surely, given the strength involved it must have been reasonable to assume the team would complete the mission and kill their shared enemy. And if, as he suspected, Father wasn’t among the casualties, then he must have had assistance to get out of the area, which had to have been planned. Something stank.
‘Pa. Tork wants confirmation from you to abandon the search.’
Karl snatched the mic. ‘Tork, my order is to return here immediately. Don’t question me again. Out!’ Karl threw the hand-piece at his son and stormed over to the beds containing the blueprints and plans. He swept a hand across the papers to gather everything and found most of it falling on to the bloodstained floor. He had to stop and regain some control before squatting down to retrieve the plans. Three photographs had managed to float under the beds and prop themselves against the back wall. Karl’s fury exploded. The bed was heavy, but it flew as freely as a paper plane across the cubicle. The shattering of instruments and glass brought Sixsmith and his bodyguards sprinting out of Eddie’s office.
‘Are you all right my dear fellow?’
Karl nodded. ‘Never better, Colonel. Just clearing up and not leaving anything that might incriminate your government in anyway.’
Sixsmith stared at the man coolly before returning to the office to consider his report.
Karl tossed the photographs on top of a locker. He was about to leave the cubicle when something brought him back to the set of three shots. They were taken a week earlier by a low-orbiting military satellite and showed the vast expanse of ground the hospital was built on. There were four huge car parks dotted with just one or two cars in each and some work trucks. Karl turned two of the pictures over and checked the time the shots were taken. Both were taken at three in the morning. What were work trucks doing in the car park that early? He looked closely. The trucks were large but didn’t have any heavy equipment, and there were no signs of ongoing work. All he could see were some rough planks of wood and spades. They may have just started, he reasoned. It was the procession of men in their yellow jackets and white hats on the third shot walking into a dense copse that confirmed what he was looking at. Karl reached over for the plans and placed the photographs next to where the car park was located. The small wooded area was only a few yards from the morgue. Karl sighed. Why hadn’t he seen this? Father had built a tunnel.
‘Cole, get Tork and have him meet me here with the team.’ Karl pushed the photograph and blueprint into the young man’s hand and pointed to the location. Cole watched his father covertly exit the hospital. He recognised the familiar look in his eye that meant the fight was still on. Cole looked at the blueprint and the photographs. He bent towards his mic and whispered Karl’s instruction to Tork. He prayed his father would wait for the team to arrive before engaging Father, if he was there. The Bloodeater had almost killed him twice, but Karl would be happy to give up his life to get close enough to the man who killed his wife.
‘I have eyes on target and preparing to sweep.’ The sound of Karl’s voice crackled out of the headphones Cole had left on the table. They sounded louder in the quiet of the waiting area. Sixsmith shot out of Eddie’s office and glared at Cole.
‘Smith, Price. Go after him,’ Sixsmith barked.
‘A double bogey heading your way, Alpha 1,’ Cole frantically transmitted before a flash of intense light and heat exploded in his face.
Sixsmith stood with a smoking automatic pistol gripped in his right hand. The bullet he’d discharged had gone through the radio, obliterating the components and hit the doorframe. Unfortunately for Cole, the bullet ricocheted off the metal frame and entered his body under the right scapula. The impact threw him backwards off his chair. Cole’s world went black before he hit the floor.
Sixsmith holstered the pistol and ran over to where Cole’s bright red blood was contrasting with the blackened crust formed from Father’s previous victims. The consequence of his action would expose him to Felton. Now there was no going back. He knew Karl would want to carve him into little pieces and feed him slowly to some captive Bloodeater. Sixsmith frantically searched the small office. For a casualty department, a first-aid kit was sadly lacking. He tore out the drawers and found a sanitary tampon in one of the desks. It was a product he was familiar with from his service days to plug bullet wounds. He was careful not to get blood on himself as he knelt by Cole’s prone body. He pulled down the boy’s shirt and inserted the cotton tube into the hole. It quickly expanded, staunching most of the bleeding.
As he tended to Cole, the doors behind him opened and three men walked in. Sixsmith got up quickly and gestured for them to begin in the waiting area. He couldn’t risk moving the boy into another office. Sixsmith propped Cole against the door and slowly pulled it closed. Cole’s body slipped along the wood and became a human barricade.
One of the men spoke into his radio with an assessment of their task. Sixsmith used the distraction to try and leave the hospital quietly, but the sensor detected him. The glass doors parted with a loud swish just as the team, led by Tork, burst into the casualty department. Sixsmith froze. The soldiers paused, looking weary. Eddie and Sam brought up the rear as the team dropped their kit onto the floor.
‘Ah, Cornick, I see you have emerged unscathed. Would you come over here? I have a task for you.’ Sixsmith calmly turned and walked outside with his weary bodyguard following.
‘Where’s my father?’ Maya looked around the ward. ‘He should be here.’
‘He may be with Cole,’ one of the men suggested.
Maya walked over to the office where her brother was. The door was shut, and there didn’t seem to be anybody in the room. Maya tried the door, which opened a fraction. She pushed against the wood. ‘Cole, are you in there?’ She heard a moan, low and quiet, coming from inside. Maya screamed. ‘Cole!’
The rest of the team ran to the girl. Tork moved her aside. Wedging both hands in the gap, Tork began ripping the wood apart. The top half of the door was easily reduced to matchsticks, allowing Maya to climb through. Cole was laying on his side moaning. She cradled his head and spoke softly to him.
‘Eddie, we need you.’ Tork pointed down to the boy.
‘Bring him to one of the examination bays quickly,’ Eddie said.
Cole was passed over to one of the soldiers, who ran to the cubicle Eddie indicated. As the team were trying to work out what happened, the sliding doors opened. Several men in white forensic suits and masks entered the foyer. The team turned as one and raised their weapons, weary of surprises. The men froze in the doorway. For several tense seconds no one moved.
One of the white-suited men walked slowly forward with his arms raised. ‘We’re the clean-up mob mate. We’ve only got a couple of hours and I’ve got close on three-hundred people coming to cover up the fact you bastards have been here. Check with a Colonel Sixsmith if you need confirmation.’
Tork ordered the team to lower their weapons and gestured for the man to lower his arms and get on with his work. Eddie ignored the standoff. He was in the cubicle with Maya, where Cole was carefully placed on the bed. He was still losing blood. Eddie cut off the soaked t-shirt and carefully turned him onto his front.
‘Look at this,’ he
said, pointing to the cotton sticking out of the wound.
‘Isn’t that a...’ Maya started.
‘Yep, a tampon used to stop bleeding. He knew what to do and how to do it. It’s a technique someone with experience of military field medicine would use. That’s virtually every soldier.’
‘How is he?’ she said, choking back tears as she held his limp hand. Losing Lars had breached an icy dam inside her. If she lost Cole it might as well shatter.
‘I don’t know, Maya. He’s a strong kid but he needs a surgeon to get the bullet out.’
‘There are no surgeons; they’re all dead. You’re going to have to do it yourself. I know you have the skills. You saved men on the battlefield,’ Maya pleaded.
Eddie paused. He’d been so overwhelmed by the last couple of hours, he’d lost all sense of reality. The only reason he wanted in on the mission was gone. It was hard to admit he had stopped thinking about Kat, or trying to save her after what he’d seen. Perhaps it was best if she were dead. He didn’t want her turned into one of those things. And maybe he also preferred her dead so he could move on and avoid a new complication.
‘Eddie!’
He turned to her. ‘Maya, he needs someone more skilled than me. Your brother needs a proper surgeon. And look at this place! The contamination and cross-infection alone would kill him if I opened him up. The best I can do is stabilise him and get him to another hospital.’
‘Has anyone seen Karl?’ Tork shouted, interrupting the sense of quiet that had descended around the cubicle. ‘Or the Colonel?’
‘He went outside with his bodyguard,’ one of the men shouted back, pointing to the doors.
‘Someone try Karl on the handsets,’ Tork ordered.
One of the team began relaying a message to Karl while the others appeared tense, their fingers hovering along trigger-guards as if they were expecting something to happen.
Karl should have been here to de-brief them. Where was he? Tork asked himself? He went back into Cole’s room and looked at the shattered remains of the radio. Among the debris were the photographs. He picked them up and saw someone had circled a work truck with a question mark alongside it. That had to be where Karl had gone. Now the obvious connection leapt out at him.
‘Everyone gather around me,’ Tork commanded, as he emerged from the radio room. ‘I know where Karl is.’
Maya watched nervously as Eddie examined her brother. He could see the inner dilemma she was fighting. The two men who meant the most to her right now were bleeding and lost. Which should she abandon? Eddie took the decision away from her.
‘Go with Tork. There’s nothing you can do here to help Cole. I’ll work on him, I promise.’
‘Just make sure he doesn’t die.’ Realising her tone carried an unintentional hard edge; Maya reached out and grabbed his hand. ‘Please.’
A surge coursed through his body like a seismic wave that had no right to be there. The woman’s eyes bore into his and he felt his body pulsate. Eddie could no longer see the horror all around him. All he could see was Maya’s face. He wanted to say something but his mouth had frozen into a stupid grin.
‘Maya, join us,’ Tork’s voice boomed.
She slipped her hand out of his and joined the team.
Eddie felt something new, an emotion, long buried, but he was sure it was happiness. He turned back to Cole with a renewed sense of his own capability.
20
Books were scattered on the floor of the purple room in an almost perfect circle around the man sitting like a guru in the middle of his faithful. Some of the dusty, old volumes were being treated brutally. The bent covers strained like wings looking for an updraft, placing pressure on the spine and old glue holding the rest of the book together. In contrast, other books had been placed in neat towers of four, set in triangular patterns. Gabriel Aquino was engrossed in mining the content of the volumes methodically, but with little regard for the protection of the precious books. He was searching for statements, and each nugget he mined was spoken quietly into a small recorder. Now, after hours of constant sitting in one position on the hard floor, Aquino’s legs and back began to rebel. He had left Giselle in bed and come down to his study. He couldn’t sleep. Thoragan’s insinuations were still nipping at him. Aquino knew he had to act decisively to quash them before more political scandal could be layered upon the current rumours concerning his wife.
Now, though, he had to capitulate, and stood, stretching out the stiffness in his body. He needed a drink, which was also beginning to draw him away from the task as, contrarily, was a strained bladder. Aquino was surprised at the mess he’d created in a room normally so tidy. The floor resembled something an earthquake may be held responsible for. He knew the mess was worth it as the information he wanted was now stored on the pencil-slim device. Aquino put it into his pocket, tapping the shirt to ensure the recorder was safely seated. Then on cue, his stomach began rumbling in protest at the drought he was inflicting on it.
The silence in the room was broken by a hesitant knock on his door.
‘Yes?’ Aquino responded curtly.
‘Sir, are you all right?’ Another hesitation. ‘Could I bring you some coffee?’
‘Prepare some coffee in the office. I’ll be up shortly,’ Aquino replied.
Underneath the door, the shadows of his aide’s feet seemed unsure whether to leave or not. One of the feet turned whilst the other remained planted to the spot.
‘Sir, is there anything I can do to assist you?’ his aide pressed.
‘Nothing, just the coffee, thank you, Matthew.’ Aquino watched. The feet were still hesitant before disappearing.
Aquino stretched and yawned. As beautiful as the night with Giselle had been, he realised how much of her body he had forgotten. Her many curious tattoos were once again a mystery. When he first met her she was lecturing on one of their private islands, near the Philippines. His team had intelligence that pointed to an imminent attack on the academy led by one of Father’s numerous sons. Aquino’s team landed quietly, just as a blood red sun started to rise above the ocean.
When they entered the academy grounds they were greeted with unexpected hostility. Students chanted a battle song and protested their need for men to come and rescue them. One voice cut through the rest and aimed directly at him. It was Giselle. She stood on a chair to shout out her protest in having so many soldiers in the girls’ quarters. Aquino tried placating her with reassurances that his men were of good character and very professional, but she wouldn’t be silenced and kept attacking him. Unfortunately, one of his men — acting in good faith — shot her with a tranquilliser dart as her protests became more hostile. He was right of course, as the delay was giving the enemy a chance to attack when they were unprepared.
Aquino caught her as she collapsed immediately into unconsciousness. He shouted an order over his shoulder to his men to prepare defences and asked one of the girls to direct him to Giselle’s quarters. She led him to a Spartan room with one small window and a few personal items arranged neatly on a dressing table. He laid her gently on the bed, positioning her head on the hard pillow so she wouldn’t wake up with a stiff neck as well as the headache the drug would leave her with. As he stood to leave, the crack of automatic gunfire started to sizzle in the humid air. He left instructions with the girl and rushed out to join his men. The battle lasted less than half an hour. In that time, Aquino’s troops killed all the Bloodeaters with the loss of one of his men. The only enemy left alive was Rudi. He was one of a long succession of Father’s offspring, and as arrogant as any Bloodeater, Aquino had encountered.
Rudi’s left arm was missing from the elbow with ragged ribbons of flesh hanging from the hideous wound. His other arm had been bound to his waist. As with all Bloodeaters, their ability to withstand trauma and pain was admired, even by Aquino’s men. What they lacked in brains, they made up for in physical stamina. Rudi certainly lacked his father’s brains, having led a frontal assault on Aquino’s men, no doubt
using his one and only tactic of thinking overwhelming odds would beat a handful of Bashalx. Some two hundred Bloodeaters landed on one of the more exposed beaches. Most were poorly equipped. Some had grenades strapped to their bodies, while others had nothing more than crude spears. They all rushed forward in one line and were quickly cut down by accurate fire and several hastily planted claymores set around the perimeter of the academy. Rudi, Aquino learned, had taken on a claymore and lost.
The Bloodeater commander stood in front of him. His hair was dirty and matted, matching the long, black beard that trailed down onto his powerful chest. He was impressive to look at and stood a head taller than Aquino. His body was swollen with engorged muscle: lumps like melons protruded out of his tattered shirt. Aquino ordered he be taken back to their base for chemical interrogation. As he was being led away, Rudi ripped his remaining arm free of the rope and sprinted back towards the beach. As he got to the edge of the trees, two claymore’s exploded simultaneously, finishing the job the first had started. Bits of his body flew up into the palms and hung there for the flies to take care of.
Before leaving, Aquino checked on Giselle, meaning to apologise for drugging her. He found the young woman crying beside a fountain at the back of the building. Aquino later found out he hadn’t prevented the death of two of the students, one of whom had shown him to her bedroom.
‘Sir, I have Whitehall on the line,’ Matthew said through the door.
His aide’s interruption took away the more seductive memories of their first time together as he tried to map all of Giselle’s tattoos.
‘I’ll take it in my office,’ Aquino shouted, tetchily. He unlocked the door and made his way upstairs. His bladder reminded him he needed to attend to it before taking what could be a long call. Aquino detoured into one of several bathrooms and relieved himself. As he did, he wondered what Whitehall was doing calling him directly. Karl’s last contact had been positive and the mission was on course. So why the call? He washed his hands and headed to his office.
