Steinmeier smiled to himself through his big, bushy beard, then raced across to the point on the embankment where he calculated the carriage would stop when the train finally came to a halt.
Perfect.
It was just two minutes later that he saw the family jump from the train, which had stopped barely twenty feet from the car.
He couldn’t see any enemy agents, but something was definitely wrong. Sarah was walking awkwardly, staggering down the slope.
Slinging the rifle across his back, Steinmeier broke from the cover of the trees where he’d been hiding and sprinted out to Sarah and the children. He needed to get them away before any other passengers got off the train and created more complications.
Amy saw him first. ‘Stefan?’ she asked, and he grinned at her in return.
‘Amy! Hey, how are you doing? Ben!’ he continued as he got nearer. ‘It’s good to see you!’ His English was perfect, although he had retained his German accent.
As he got closer, he could see the look of worry on Ben’s face. ‘You’ve got to help Mummy!’ the little boy screamed out to him, and then Steinmeier was there with them. Sarah looked up at him through her oversized sunglasses, smiled with relief, and fainted in his arms.
46
Sarah awoke early the next morning, a full twelve hours after the escape from the train.
At first she stirred, murmuring quickly, worriedly under her breath; then she was sitting bolt upright, eyes wide open, sweating, panting.
Steinmeier leaned over with a wet cloth for her forehead, and she jerked away reflexively, nervous like an animal that had been pursued by a predator for too long, and now no longer knew how to relax.
Steinmeier moved back, hands up and open so that she could see he didn’t pose a threat, and would hopefully recognize him. Her eyes closed ever so slightly as she looked at him in the dim light from the bedside table lamp, the winter sun not yet over the horizon. ‘Stefan?’ she asked groggily.
He smiled at her, glad she seemed to have retained her faculties. The night before, he had had to administer a field dressing to her foot before setting off – on seeing him, her adrenaline had started to ebb away, and after she fainted, the ugly wound had started to bleed heavily.
Luckily for Sarah, feet never bled too much, and Steinmeier was able to collect all the blood in one dressing before he bandaged the wound. Unluckily for her, several of the bones were shattered, and it would be a long while before she would be able to walk comfortably again.
He had placed her in the front passenger seat, legs elevated onto the dashboard, and had sat Ben and Amy in the back; he hadn’t wanted them to see their mother’s features too closely, at least not until he’d had the chance to attend to the swelling and bruising.
They had avoided being seen by any of the passengers, and Steinmeier was confident that there hadn’t been any agents aboard, or at least none that were continuing with the pursuit.
Nevertheless, he had taken the Nissan on a widely circuitous route, using its 4x4 capability on several occasions to traverse ground that would give away anyone who was following them.
The fact that the family had been pursued so far had kept playing on his mind however, and halfway to their destination he had stopped the vehicle.
One by one, he had meticulously searched his three visitors, looking for any kind of transmitter, any device that could signal their location to the enemy.
He found nothing, and so also searched what limited baggage they had taken from the train. He had gathered together the various electronic items – mobile phones, iPod, travel alarm clock, anything which could have hidden a bug – and trampled them underfoot before burying them underneath two feet of snow and soil.
Ben and Amy had been in near hysterics at losing their phones, but Steinmeier had promised to buy them replacements, the latest models, which had cheered them up no end.
Satisfied that it had been pure physical surveillance – and probably more than a little luck – that had gotten the agents this far, he had returned to the vehicle and carried on driving.
Just over an hour later, they were at their final destination, the safe house where they would wait for Mark.
Steinmeier was perfectly happy with the security arrangements there. The safe house was, after all, his own home; and if that wasn’t safe, then what was?
Steinmeier had first met Mark Cole back in the days when he still went by the name of Crosby. It was almost fifteen years ago, back when the Englishman had been a young buck Swimmer Canoeist Second Class, just graduated from SBS training, and Steinmeier himself had been a grizzled old Sergeant in Germany’s GSG9, the counter-terrorist section of the Federal Border Guard.
They had been paired for a training exercise, simulating an operation against a North Sea oil rig platform that had been hijacked by terrorists. Steinmeier had expected the young Crosby to be nervous, uncertain, sure to make mistakes. Although such units often trained and fought alongside one another, there was always a feeling of friendly competitiveness, and Steinmeier was looking forward to correcting the English commando’s faults.
The training exercise went in an unexpected direction though, and Steinmeier found that Crosby didn’t falter once. From the insertion to the target on their Mark 4 Zodiac hydrofoils which jarred along the freezing, choppy waters that threatened to break their backs, to the ascent up the ice-slick ladders, to the stealthy movement around the massive structure, and eventually to the taking down of the hijackers and the release of the hostages, Crosby’s performance had been perfect.
But what had impressed him the most was Crosby’s response when Steinmeier had made a mistake himself.
Moving through the bowels of the superstructure, Steinmeier had struck his foot into a loose metal casting on the floor, not fifty yards from two armed sentries. As their heads snatched round at the sound, Crosby dropped them with his silenced submachine gun before they even realized what had happened. But what was more, Crosby never mentioned it again, respecting Steinmeier’s age and experience and not wanting to tarnish his image.
Steinmeier had respected such an act, and the post-exercise drinking session had cemented their friendship. Crosby couldn’t only fight, but could also drink like a German!
For his part, Steinmeier had proven over the years that he was a man that could be trusted. Indeed, he was the only man from Cole’s previous life that he had told about being alive; even Cole’s own blood family believed that he had been killed in action, having attended a funeral for him a year after he had gone missing in Pakistan.
It was this bond of friendship and trust that had brought around this current situation – he tending to Sarah’s wounds, whilst his own wife and children entertained Ben and Amy downstairs, as they all waited anxiously for the arrival of Mark Cole.
After Sarah had asked after her children, Steinmeier knew what was going to be asked next.
‘Have you heard from him? From Mark?’
Steinmeier could see the light of hope in her eyes, tempered with the cynicism of reality she had so recently acquired. Sarah was exhausted, drained and emotionally ravaged. His contacts had described the man that had been found in the train toilet cubicle – not dead, but not far from it – and Steinmeier could only imagine the strain that the incident would have placed on a woman already under immense stress.
And yet he could not lie to her, not even to console her. ‘No Sarah,’ he said apologetically, ‘not yet.’
He turned up the morphine drip to help with her pain. The drugs would also make her sleepy, and therefore less likely to do anything silly, like trying to jump out of bed with a bullet hole in her foot.
She nodded in acquiescence, and took a glass of water from the side of the bed. As she put it to her mouth, a dark cloud passed over her face. ‘Are we safe here?’ she asked him.
He smiled at her through his great, bushy beard. ‘You’ve been here before Sarah,’ he said. ‘You know you’re safe here.’
Of course he
was right, she knew. She had been there before, and had been amazed at the place the first time she had seen it.
On the surface it was a normal, timber-framed Alpine-style chalet, situated in a quiet residential street, set well back from any neighbours; not that there were many neighbours in the small village. Inside, however, it was like a fortress. The walls were reinforced with aluminium, there was extensive electronic surveillance, and weapons literally covered the house – hidden but immediately accessible.
But perhaps what made the house so secure was Steinmeier’s network of lookouts and watchers throughout the village. The members of the local community thought of Steinmeier as something of a local hero, and like villagers the world over, were well attuned to strangers entering their territory. As a result, any such unexpected visitors would be drawn to Steinmeier’s attention almost before they would even know they were in his village.
Sarah remembered how cautious and security-conscious Steinmeier was, and knew it had been a silly question. Of course they were safe here. She relaxed and took a sip of the water before resting herself back onto the bed.
Steinmeier stayed with her until she was asleep. He knew Mark would appreciate it.
47
Cole couldn’t see, but he could hear voices; first as if far away, or maybe underwater, but gradually becoming clearer. Eventually, he could make out the words. German. He concentrated harder to understand.
‘No, he’s unconscious,’ said one of the voices. There was a pause, as if the man was listening to a reply, indicating the conversation was via telephone, and it was long enough for Cole to remember everything. There’d been a crash; his car had been blasted across the highway, rolling onto its roof and back again. He had lost consciousness soon after, and had no idea how long he’d been out. Given the conditions, it would have taken the emergency services a considerable amount of time to attend the scene. He might have been in the car for hours even.
Police would have attended also. They would know the car was stolen, but would they make any further connections? He listened to the rest of the one-way conversation to find out. ‘Yes, bad crash, I’m with the medical personnel in the ambulance, we’re moving him to the hospital.’ There was another pause. ‘British agents will meet him there?’ The voice did not sound happy. ‘Sir, this is a criminal case, he was driving a stolen car, he –’ There was another, longer pause. ‘Yes sir. I will sign him over upon arrival. Yes, of course.’
The conversation was at an end, and Cole had the information he needed. They must have matched his description to an APB put out by Hansard. So they knew where he was, and where he was going. That wasn’t good, Cole thought grimly. Not good at all.
Light was starting to filter through his eyelids, and Cole could feel that he was secured down to what he assumed was a stretcher. His arms, legs, body – even his head – had all been strapped in place. He hoped it was merely for security reasons, and not because he was paralysed.
Slowly, carefully, he started tensing and relaxing the muscles through his entire body. Everything ached, but everything seemed to be responding.
Next, he very gently started to open his eyes, careful to be discrete, not wide enough for anyone to realize that he had regained consciousness. There was a uniformed police officer at the foot of the bed, presumably the man on the phone, and Cole took extra note of the Glock pistol in the holster at the side of his belt. There were also two medical personnel, one on either side of him, administering to the various machines he was hooked up to. He hoped one of them wasn’t a morphine drip; he would need his wits about him soon enough, he was sure. If British agents were to meet him at the hospital, then they wouldn’t be bringing flowers.
After the disaster on the train, the news from the German border cheered Hansard up no end.
The man in the stolen car had no ID of course, but Hansard knew it was Cole. The physical description provided by the attending police officer was a match, but perhaps more importantly, the tactics of the car thief were a match. A little further digging had shown a pattern of car thefts from France to Germany, typical of an agent moving undetected across countries.
Hansard had been incensed when the report had come in from the train. He couldn’t help but feel a grudging respect for Sarah Cole – what she had done to Albright! – but the fact remained that it was an unmitigated disaster. Hansard had used his leverage to avoid the press getting wind of the story, but that didn’t help the fact that their only lead had been lost.
Cole’s continued existence worried Hansard a great deal. What did the man already know, if anything? And if he did know something, then had he told anyone? As he took a sip of his Almagnac, he relaxed slightly. Hansard was sure Cole could not possibly know anything of any real significance. He would realize that Hansard had lied about the reason for Crozier’s assassination, but would have no idea why.
He had another sip, and started to relax even more as he thought about Cole’s current predicament – strapped down in the back of an ambulance, under armed guard, helpless, on his way to meet two more of Hansard’s ‘contract labourers’ – professional assassins who could be relied upon to get the job done.
48
Sarah woke again not long after midday. Steinmeier came to check on her, along with the rest of his family, and her own two children.
Ben and Amy were upset that their mother was in bed – not so much because they understood the reasons behind it, but more because they were having a great time, and were sorry that she was missing out. Karl, Joseph and Claudia were such great fun, and Mrs Steinmeier made such great gingerbread, and Ben and Amy had both all but forgotten the tensions of the last two days.
Sarah was pleased to see her children enjoying themselves so much, but was very conscious of the time ticking by.
When the others had left the room, Steinmeier stayed. ‘Mark?’ she asked him simply.
‘Must have been held up,’ he replied, then smiled. ‘No need to worry, there’s plenty of time.’
Sarah nodded her head, deep in thought. Not for the first time, she considered calling her father. They had not spoken for over a decade – he didn’t even know that she was married, or that he now had two grandchildren – but if anyone could help then surely it was him.
She knew better than mention it to Steinmeier, however – the plan explicitly forbade contact to be made with any outside party. She sighed.
Okay. I won’t call him. Not yet.
49
Cole didn’t know how much time he had. They were driving slowly due to the conditions, but he had no idea how far away the hospital was, and he therefore had no idea how long it would take to get there.
For the last few minutes he had been working on the leather straps that secured his wrists. He had been trained to escape from such bonds back in the special forces, but the situation was made harder by the fact that he couldn’t make any obvious movements that would be seen by either the ambulance crew or the police officer.
From the conversation of the paramedics, Cole had ascertained that he was not seriously injured. Indeed, they had objected to the police officer about the way their patient was strapped down, although the man remained unmoved by such protestations.
He seemed to have some mild bruising and several minor cuts that they had already stitched up, but they were also concerned over his head injuries, suspecting that he might well have a concussion. This didn’t worry Cole unduly however – he’d had plenty in the past, and it had never stopped him before.
After ten agonizing minutes, he’d done it – the wrist straps had been loosened sufficiently that he would be able to pull his hands free when the time was right. His legs, upper arms, torso and head were all still strapped tight, but he had his hands – and that, Cole decided, would just have to do.
Andy Truro and Jimmy Vinh pulled into the hospital car park just after midnight. It had been lucky that they had been available – they had recently finished a job and were relaxing at a private resort in the
Austrian mountains just over the border. They wouldn’t ordinarily have done a job so close to where they were, but the money offered by Hansard for what seem like a fairly easy bit of work made the decision for them.
They were unusual in that they worked as partners, which was generally unheard of for such contract workers. Their history together went all the way back to early childhood, however, and they had been together from the orphanage nursery through to the killing fields of Iraq and Afghanistan. When Hansard had approached them about going ‘off the radar’, they had agreed on one condition – that they would be able to continue working together.
At first, Hansard had rejected the idea; but as he cogitated further, he recognized that some missions could benefit from a good working partnership, and so he had taken them on, on a trial basis.
They had since proved to be a formidable addition to Hansard’s team, both ruthless and inventive. They were also committed to each other to the exclusion of all else, which resulted in behaviour to others that bordered on the sociopathic. This was the reason that Hansard generally gave them the lower-end jobs, as he simply could not trust them completely. But it was also the reason Hansard was sending them to kill Cole; there would be no second guessing, no emotion, and no mistakes. They would simply do their job, and then disappear.
50
Fucking bitch. Albright looked at himself in the mirror by his bedside. Fucking bitch!
He was blind in his right eye, which had been gouged out from the socket completely, and his nose was all but destroyed. The surgeons had managed to re-attach it, but it was covered by thick bandages, which wouldn’t be coming off for some time.
He also had bandaging around his head, protecting the small hole in the skull created by the impact with the sharp corner of the bathroom cabinet. Maybe I should sue the rail company?, he wondered idly, but the laughter only brought more pain. His temple had been missed by less than an inch, and the doctors felt that it was something of a miracle that he was still alive.
Seven Day Hero Page 31
