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Operation:UNITY (John Steel series Book 2)

Page 29

by p s syron-jones


  “Neighbours?” Tooms asked, not taking his eyes off of the tiled ceiling.

  “Doubt it, this is the top floor. Above us are maintenance and storage rooms.”

  The roof above them creaked again, definitely the sound of something moving above.

  “Rats?” McCall shot Tooms a look of disgust at his suggestion. “God, I hope not, or our guns are useless.” Tooms was busy holding his breath with anticipation.

  There was silence for a while, apart from the noise from the traffic below. “Maybe it’s gone?” Tooms said.

  Sam shrugged but kept her gun trained on the ceiling.

  “Maybe, but—”

  Suddenly the ceiling exploded into a cloud of dust and polystyrene fragments, as something dropped down. McCall covered her eyes but just caught a glimpse of Tooms flying across the room and crashing into the closet. Jones had dropped down, and in the confusion had managed to windmill-kick Tooms and leg-sweep McCall. As she crashed to the wooden floor, her head hit hard timber and she fell unconscious. Jones stood up, looked at the two downed detectives, and smiled.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Tooms awoke, feeling giddy and disorientated. There was a coppery taste in his mouth and he spat a pool of blood on to the rug. As Tooms tried to get up he was suddenly pulled back by something—he felt as if his arms were made from lead. He looked down to see he had both hands handcuffed to the radiator behind him, and he tugged at his shackles and grunted. His mind was foggy and confused and he was beginning to get the feeling back into his body as his system began to waken.

  In his blurry vision he made out someone in front of him. The silhouette looked like a man, and he figured it was Jones. “Where’s McCall?” Tooms yelled as he struggled to keep his head up. He gave it a quick shake and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. As he opened them, his vision started to clear.

  Sam McCall was on the floor at the far side of the room, lying still, and he feared the worst for her. Tooms sat handcuffed to the radiator that was fixed on the back wall opposite the doorway, that now was covered in debris from the ceiling.

  “Okay, so what now, pretty boy?” Tooms shouted, looking over towards Jones, who was sitting on the bed tapping his chin with a long thin-bladed dagger. He saw Tooms look over to McCall’s limp body and then looked back at the detective with a smile.

  “What the hell did you do to her, you son of a bitch?” Tooms demanded.

  Jones tutted and stood up slowly. “How touching your concern is. Actually I would be more concerned about yourself.” Jones had taken McCall’s radio and was listening in on the chatter. “I don’t have much time before they start to look for you so I had better be quick.”

  Tooms’s eyes widened. “Better be quick with what?”

  Jones grinned and started to walk towards him slowly, loving to watch the big man squirm. All the time Tooms was struggling to get free, so he could smash the guy’s face to a pulp. Jones knelt in front of him and started to pick chucks out of the floorboards with the tip of the knife’s blade.

  “So you finally came for me. Nice job giving the others the slip.” Tooms looked confused. “You have no idea, do you?” Tooms shook his head with a vacant expression on his large face.

  “Man, I have no idea what the hell you are talking about. What I do know is when I get out of these cuffs your momma ain’t gonna recognize your sorry ass.”

  Jones heard movement behind him but he didn’t need to turn round to know it was McCall. “Awake at last, Detective? Good. We have only a few moments before they come for me.” Jones put the blade up against Tooms’s heart, a small trickle of blood as he prodded the flesh proving how close he was. Sam McCall was brandishing her Glock 23 backup pistol, but the 40mm round would push Jones into Tooms if she fired, and he knew that she knew that would mean the knife would be forced into Tooms’s heart.

  “So what do you want,” Sam asked. “Safe passage out of here? A million bucks?”

  Jones smiled, still looking at Tooms’s sweat-drenched face. “Now, now, Detective, we both know I am not getting out of here alive, and even if I did I would have an accident in prison.”

  McCall edged round to try to get a better look at the situation. “Put the knife down and we can all walk out of here alive, all of us.”

  Jones shook his head. “No. I am afraid there are people who would like me out of the picture, so I think I will pass.” McCall studied him, trying to assess the situation. Even though he wasn’t facing her, she could tell that there was something wrong. Tooms’s eyes widened as he saw McCall slightly lower her weapon. She was still wearing her radio but her custom Glock was on the bed, just lying there. The sound of static was then followed by the captain’s order to fall back to the room, because McCall and Tooms had been missed.

  “Look, come in with us,” Sam pleaded. “We can protect you.”

  Jones turned slightly to catch a glimpse of her face, then he smiled at her tenderly. “Oh you have no idea who you would be protecting me from, do you?” His eyes were gentle and she instantly knew that there was more to this situation than anyone realised. “I can see why he picked you, Detective. He would be proud.” McCall saw his eyes move over to the doorway and his grin broadened as he dropped the knife and held his hands up. “Well, Detective, this has turned out to be a real HEEL of a day, wouldn’t you say?” He smiled and shot a glance upwards.

  Six shots rang out, the bullets ripping through his flesh and casting eruptions of body fluids into the air. The shots were precise and accurate. He took one in each shoulder and one in each leg. The final two hit him in the heart, and the last impacted between his eyes, throwing his lifeless carcass to the side of Tooms.

  “No!” McCall screamed and ran for Jones’s body, but it was too late, he was gone. She spun round and ran towards the door. She wanted answers from the shooter. Her face filled with anger as she approached, but she stopped suddenly and stared blankly at the figure in the doorway. Tony stood there with his pistol drawn. “You guys okay? We got orders to come and look for you.”

  McCall just stared at him in disbelief. “Why did you shoot, he had his hands up?”

  Tony looked at her blankly. “Shoot who? I just got here. I heard shots and feared the worst.”

  McCall’s gaze fell to Tony’s drawn Glock. He felt a cold shiver run down his spine and he began to back off slightly. “What is it? You think I did it?” McCall looked over to the bloodied body of Jones, who was slumped against the blood-splattered wall next to Tooms. “Oh no, I did not shoot anyone, McCall, you have to believe me. Look, take my gun!” Tony went to release the magazine from the housing and draw back the top slide when Jenny and the others came bolting into the corridor.

  “McCall, what the hell is going on here?” yelled the captain, then he took in the scene. “Did you shoot him?” McCall shook her head before her eyes moved to Tony. “Detective, do you know anything about this?”

  Tony felt like a child who was being blamed for something he hadn’t done. “Sir, I heard shots so I made for the room, when I got here I saw—well, this! I never fired a shot, let alone killed anyone.” Captain Brant’s eyes searched Tony’s. The captain could usually tell if someone was lying, but he just wasn’t sure about Tony. Brant turned to see CSU coming down the corridor, “You know the procedure,” he said to Tony, “and give your weapon to CSU for trace so we can clear this up.”

  Tony nodded and headed for the techs who were just getting ready, laying out boxes, getting evidence bags and document pads ready. “Sorry,” Jenny apologized as she moved out of a room down the corridor from the crime scene and backed into Tony. Jenny dropped the boxes she was helping a young CSU tech carry. “You okay?” they said in unison, then laughed together. “Sorry, my fault completely,” Jenny said, rescuing the boxes. She was just about to pass Tony his gun that he’d dropped, when she heard the captain’s voice saying: “Stop, Detective. He has to hand the weapon over to CSU, so no other prints, okay?”

  She nodded at the captain to say she un
derstood. Tony smiled at her, and said, “Thanks anyway.”

  Jenny smiled back. “Oh it was nothing really, I am sure you would do the same for me.” Tony picked up the weapon and headed for the CSU team to hand it over.

  The captain walked over to McCall, who was standing in the doorway watching the commotion in the corridor. “Are you okay, Detective?”

  She looked up at him and just shook her head. “No, not really. Tony said he didn’t shoot anyone but...”

  Brant’s eyes squinted. “But what?”

  McCall shook her head again. “But nothing. Just been a long day, that’s all, sir.”

  He regarded her seriously and nodded. “Sure it has, but you’ll have to go back to the precinct and give a statement to IA reference the shooting.”

  McCall smiled as she heard someone cough behind her. She turned to see a growling Tooms, who was still handcuffed to the radiator. “Oh, don’t mind me, please, I enjoy been chained up next to a dead dude that’s bleedin’ all over me.” She let out a small chuckle, then took out her handcuff key from her pocket and walked towards him. The captain followed close behind and looked down at Jones’s twisted body.

  “Okay, you two so what made you come back here anyway?” asked Brant, who was looking up at the hole in the broken ceiling.

  “I had a feeling he was too professional to do what we thought he might do,” Sam replied. Brant helped McCall get Tooms to his feet and watched the large man pat the dust off himself.

  “Well I am glad you’re both alright,” Brant said sincerely. “Get yourselves cleaned up then get back to the precinct.” As he watched them leave his gut churned. Something wasn’t right here and he hoped that ballistics could prove that Tony was telling the truth.

  The sound of the waves crashing against the massive hull was dulled out by the music from the bars on the seventh deck. Steel leaned on the cool plastic-topped balcony rail of his room and looked out across the darkness of the night sky, the usual array of sparking starlight and glowing moon was denied them tonight, as if someone had turned out the heavenly light switch.

  He wondered about the two gorillas that the large Russian had sent after him in the gym. They were acting under orders, that was plain to see. If it had been some personal grudge, he was sure they would have been more brutal and it wouldn’t have been one-on-one. No, the boss had sent them to get him, but why wait? And why did he think that he was Blacke? Steel closed his eyes and let the cool breeze sweep across his face and the sounds of the ocean fill his ears. He loved the ocean, even though he wasn’t a naval man. He felt that it was a source of great power but also of great serenity.

  Steel opened his eyes and moved into his room, where one bedside light broke up the darkness. Moving past the bed he took a small leather jacket off the back of the dresser chair and slipped it on over his turtleneck shirt. He always wore exclusively black clothes so that he could fade into the shadows. He reflected that he needed to put away Black and become himself once more.

  They were now in open sea and only a few days remained. He had the feeling that things were going to start to reveal themselves and he had to be ready. Ready for anything.

  * **

  The captain’s cabin was bathed in darkness, where normally moonlight would create pools of brightness through the small portholes, whereas now there was only darkness. The sound of the captain’s snoring filled the room as he slept soundly and deeply. His many years at sea had taught him to sleep anywhere. “Get sleep while you can and where you can,” his old mentor used to say. In between snorts, he would mumble about something unintelligible.

  Suddenly he opened one eye and scanned the room, not moving or stopping the snoring, as if trying to conceal the fact he was awake. He sat up slowly, his eyes squinting, trying to pick a shape or anything out from the pitch black.

  “Who’s there?” he called out. “Is...is that you? It can’t be time yet surely?” Tobias Long gasped as his desk light was suddenly switched on and he found Steel sitting on the edge of his desk. Long’s face creased up in anger as he pulled himself up quickly and went for an old African walking stick that had a concealed blade within it, but Steel was quicker and he shot up and grabbed and tossed the alarmed captain into his office chair. The captain and the chair slammed into the back wall next to his desk, and Steel was before him, ready to push him back into the chair the moment he tried to get up out of it.

  “Black, what the hell is the meaning of all this? Get out before I call for security to put you in the brig.”

  Steel just stood there, sideways on to the frightened captain. “Captain, my Captain, you seemed surprised to see me but not surprised that someone should be here. Who were you expecting and what isn’t it time for?”

  Tobias Long began to sweat heavily, aware of his obvious blunder. “Nothing and no one. I will ask you again, sir, to leave my cabin before I call—”

  Steel leapt forwards, his hands gripped the cushioned armrests, and his face was almost up against the captain’s. “I should be interested in knowing who you would call.” Steel backed off slightly. “Tell me about the boy. What did he bring you? You see I know he brought you something, so don’t try to deny it.”

  Long’s face was filled with remorse and a touch of fear, but it wasn’t fear for himself. “I can’t tell you anything. They have my family, you see. If I talk, they die.”

  Steel sat on the desk and relaxed, prepared to listen to what he had to say. “Look, I have friends who can help, you know.”

  Long cracked a sarcastic smile. “The police you were talking about, the force that you work for? No, they would investigate the matter, and that would be the end of it.”

  Steel shook his head. “No, I’m talking about other friends.” A shiver ran down Long’s back at the thought of such people: agencies with no titles because they shouldn’t and don’t exist officially.

  “Captain Long, something is happening or will soon happen on this ship, and I have to stop it.”

  Long stared at Steel for a moment with inquisitive eyes. He was confused: this was not the same man he’d met at dinner. This was not the rich playboy, going through life without a care in the world. “Who are you?” he asked.

  Steel smiled at the question and put on the bedside light, “Oh, the importance of a name. Funny how it’s only important after the shit has hit the fan.” Steel sat back down and looked down at the captain through his sunglasses-clad eyes. Long shivered at the full sight of this man in black who gave off the kind of chilling aura that you only find in nightmares.

  “Walter, the lad, was here. He was told to deliver something to me, something that had to be kept safe, ‘The Key’ they called it.”

  Steel frowned slightly. “They? Who are they?”

  The captain swallowed hard and shook his head. “They never said. I just had a letter delivered the day we were setting off. It just said that they had my family and that they would kill them if I didn’t do as instructed.”

  John nodded with understanding. “So where is this ‘Key’ now? In your safe?”

  Tobias Long shook his head. “No. It’s in a special compartment I had made, just in case of trouble.” He knelt down and went under the desk. Steel heard the sound of wood scratching against wood as the captain prised open the compartment. “Oh my God, it’s gone!” Long yelled, banging his head on the desk as he came up. “The box! It’s gone!”

  Captain Long wandered round like a lost child in a shopping centre, until Steel shoved him back into the chair. Long began to rock back and forth. Steel got up and moved across to a large wooden globe that sat next to the desk. He opened it to reveal a drinks cabinet. He poured a large rum and passed it to the captain, who took the crystal glass with two shaky hands then took a large mouthful which seemed to relax him slightly.

  “Now, Captain, who else knew about the key and the hiding place?”

  Long took another drink before shaking his head. “Nobody. Especially the hiding place. Hell, it wasn’t even on the blu
eprints.” Long remembered his painstaking efforts to keep it concealed.

  “So who else may have known about this key?” Then Steel stopped and thought for a moment. “Captain, when did Anthony Blacke first join the ship?”

  Long looked puzzled at the question. “We picked him up at Vigo along with his cargo.”

  The investigator’s mind began to process the new information. “Captain, who the hell is Anthony Blacke? And I swear if you lie to me, I’ll push you through the window.”

  The captain looked at the portholes that were at least two feet in diameter and smiled. “You idiot, you couldn’t push me through there, it’s too narrow! Hell, you would have to chop me up first.” His laughter fell away as Steel removed the blade from the African walking stick and slammed it into the desk, barely missing the Captain’s fingers. Long looked up, terrified of the fury in Steel’s features.

  “He’s an arms runner,” Tobias told him. “Buys and sells to anyone. In fact the cargo is part of a deal that was set up. That’s why he’s on board—to meet his buyers.”

  Steel put the blade back into the walking stick scabbard and stood up. “Buyers, as in more than one. He’s having an arms auction on your ship, you silly bastard.” Long gave Steel a sheepish look. “Captain, what I don’t get is, if the boy did as he was told, why kill him?”

  Tobias shook his head, his face pale and riddled with guilt. “I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense.”

  Steel looked thoughtful for a moment before turning back to Long. “This cargo of Blacke’s. Where is it and what is it?”

  Long thought for a moment. “Well, there are ten large military-grade boxes, around three feet by three feet. You’ll find them in cargo area B. Just look for a sign that says KEEP OUT.”

 

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