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Operation:UNITY (John Steel series Book 2)

Page 36

by p s syron-jones


  “Well, sir,” one of the mercenaries started to speak but was cut short by the leader pointing a Desert Eagle pistol at him.

  “Not you, him,” he snapped, pointing to Steel. The cornered man stood to attention before speaking. “Sir, I followed a hooded figure down here from the games room, my squad was taken out but I somehow managed to get free from the ropes they tied me with. I followed him here and I was about to nab him when I was interrupted, the intruder got the drop on me but I got some shots off when I was detained by your men, sir.”

  The large team leader nodded slowly. “So you were part of Team Four then?”

  “No, sir. Team Three had the games room, I got stuck with some South American who wasn’t exactly talkative.” The leader smiled, as he knew exactly whom Steel was pretending to know. “Okay, this intruder. What did he look like and where did he go?”

  Steel pointed up towards the hatch. “He had a hoodie and jeans and he went up there, it looked like a maintenance hatch or something.”

  The leader smiled and patted Steel on the shoulder. “So what was he doing here, did you see?”

  Steel pointed round to the crates. The other man froze for a second, then made his way to the open casket. “Command, this is Team Five, we have a situation,” he said into his radio. Steel heard the crackle of static in his earpiece then a voice answered up: “Okay, Five, send report and LOCSTAT.”

  The leader, who was now acting nervously, pressed his throat mike again and went on: “We are in the cargo hold and the merchandise is not in the nest. I repeat the merchandise is not in the nest.” There was a brief silence then the voice came back over the airwaves: “All stations, this is Command. Mission abort. All call signs make your way to extraction Point Bravo. We are taking the lifeboats. Command out.”

  The mercenaries headed for the door and Steel hung back, pretending to limp, “Are you okay, soldier?” asked the leader.

  Steel gave the thumbs up. “I’ll be fine, sir. You go and I’ll be fine.” The leader stood there with a look of admiration on his muscular face for a moment and then left. “What a schmuck,” Steel said under his breath as he watched them all leave.

  As the last one passed through the entrance door at the end of the long corridor, Steel went back for the cruise passengers he’d had to abandon earlier.

  “Is everything alright?” Missy asked, her face a mask of innocence. Steel shook his head, looking angry. “No, they’re stealing our ride.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  McCall rose early the next morning to the sound of birdsong and the faint rumble of the dumpster trucks making their early-morning rounds. She climbed out of the comfort of her bed and put on her running gear, having decided to go for a run before work, to blow off some steam. She found the morning fresh air and quiet normally helped her to think. The rollercoaster ride of the past thirteen days had begun to wear everyone down.

  According to some people, the killer had been caught and the case was closed, however Tony was in trouble, for he had been framed for not just Jones’s death but also for the deaths of anyone that they could tie the gun to forensically. As he struggled to protect the victims, Agent Jones had found something out and he was silenced to shut him up. These people were ‘clearing house’ and they would use any means necessary to keep everyone in the dark about what was truly happening.

  A cool breeze clung to the air and everything had a bluish tint, as the sun had not broken the horizon. She loved this time in the morning, as everything seemed still and tranquil. Shopkeepers and deli owners got their places of work ready for the masses of New Yorkers on their way to work. It had seemed as though she had run for hours as she stopped for a breather. McCall looked down at her watch. It was four o’clock, and she knew she had enough time to get home, shower and get to the precinct in time for her shift. In the distance, she watched the sky turn a strange purple as a blood-red sun began to emerge. As she watched the wondrous sight she couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about the day. Something was in the air and it wasn’t good.

  As McCall got off the elevator, she noticed she was almost alone in the bullpen. Apparently some detectives had decided to make a late start or else maybe they were off on a canvas. Unfortunately McCall’s victims were not the only bodies that had been found and the homicide department was stretched to the limit. She sat down at her desk and logged into her computer, taking a sip from her thermos mug. As she waited McCall looked round to see who else was there. Tooms and Thompson hadn’t arrived yet and Tony was sitting at home, probably going nuts with worry.

  The sound of the elevator made her turn round to see the bright-faced electrical engineer from Ultra-tronics, heading towards the briefing room with an arm full of books and a laptop. “Morning, Detective,” he said with a Cheshire-cat-like grin. “Morning,” McCall replied, just as he disappeared inside the room and shut the door. She smiled at the sight of him getting excited about trying to crack what was on the blueprint.

  She felt someone looming over her, and as she turned she saw it was Pablo Rodriguez. “Morning, Pablo, so did you find anything out?” she asked.

  The Mexican made a jokey face. “Well, yes and no. You see, we checked the company and looks like it’s bogus. The website and everything else has just gone. The building they had rented was paid out for the full year using a cashier’s check so that was a dead end.”

  McCall felt like screaming at the news of the dead end so early in the morning. She looked at him and knew there was something more, by the man’s mixed smirk and expression of disappointment as he went on, “We did find security footage in that floor space.”

  McCall’s eyes widened. “And did it show anything?”

  The man waved a beige-coloured file. “Are you sure you want to know?”

  The female detective looked at him, somewhat suspicious of his attitude. What was in there? she wondered. Feeling a foreboding, she reached out and took the file from Pablo. McCall folded back the top cover to reveal the photographs inside, then she looked up in shock and gazed into Pablo’s saddened eyes. “Who else knows about this?” she asked him.

  He shook his head as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. “No one, just us. But shouldn’t we tell someone?”

  McCall looked round the room that was beginning to fill up with the oncoming shift. “No, we keep this to ourselves for now. I think something is going to happen and we need certain parties in play just in case.”

  Pablo smiled and nodded in agreement. “Okay, McCall, we do it your way.” McCall smiled back and mouthed a ‘thank you’ as he left her to her thoughts. She put the file into the lockable drawer of her desk and sat back in the chair. As she rocked back and forth she stared hard at her colleagues in the room. She now knew who the mole was.

  What she didn’t know was, were they alone?

  Deck Five was filled with shops and boutiques, with a garden area running down the middle. To look at it anyone could have imagined that they were in an English village or a small European town. In the daytime the light from the large windows above the shops gave it that ‘outdoor’ feeling. On the outside of Deck Five were the lifeboats, twenty huge yellow vessels capable of holding around four hundred people, clung to the side of the ship like limpets. The entrance to these were nestled in between the stores, ten large metal bulkhead doors set in alcoves on either side.

  As Steel and the others approached the double doors of the floor’s entrance he raised his hand to stop them. The doors looked plain with two porthole windows, but each one was thick steel that had been designed to contain water or fire. The doors were automatic and Steel couldn’t risk them opening at the wrong moment. Taking off his rucksack he opened up one of the side pouches and extracted a small monitor that was attached to a long snake-like camera. He smiled at the others and gave Tia the monitor as he edged the camera up to the window.

  “Do you see anything yet?” asked Jane Stewart impatiently.

  “No nothing, just an empty room,” he replied.


  Jane went to rush forward but Steel put his hand out to stop her. “Wait! Nobody goes through this door until I say so, got it?” He gave everyone a cold stare.

  “Look, we beat them to it,” Albert Studebaker said urgently. “I say we go in and get the hell off of this tub. These lifeboats are built to carry over a hundred people so there will be enough space and food.” He looked at the large Russians.

  “Maybe,” one of them commented, with an angry glare.

  “My point is, it’s safe,” Albert continued. “After all, there are no bad guys here.”

  Steel looked at the feed and shook his head. “Nobody leaves this spot until I say.” He took out another radio from the bag and gave it to Tia after tuning it in to Channel Four. “Okay everyone, listen in to this. When I give the all-clear, come in one at a time and stick to the corners. If anything goes wrong I will meet you all in the cargo hold.” He scanned the faces of the survivors. Each one held a different look: anger, frustration or sorrow.

  “And what if they come down there?” Bob Stewart grunted in disapproval of Steel’s plan. “You have all the weapons.”

  Steel reached into the bag, pulled out the spare silenced UMP machine pistol, and handed it to Tia, glaring at Bob.

  “What about ammo?” Bob asked.

  Steel shot him an unpleasant look, making him step back nervously.

  “We have plenty of ammo,” Vedas said. “Dead guys don’t need it.”

  Steel looked up at Vedas and nodded in approval, saying, “You know, Mr. Vedas, I am beginning to like you.” Vedas grinned back, showing the gold-capped teeth at the back of his mouth. Tia smiled as John Steel kissed her gently on the forehead, before disappearing through the automatic doors.

  The leader of the group of passengers kept to the corners as he manoeuvred his way along the dimly lit mall. Victorian-style street lights gave off a comfortable light that also gave enough shadow to the stores’ entrances, which were in the windowed alcoves; these were perfect for cover and observation.

  The group huddled round the small monitor as best they could as John Steel moved down towards the first doorway. They watched him move quickly and stealthily like a snake after its prey. He suddenly stopped and disappeared from view.

  “What’s wrong?” Jane asked, trying to catch a peek, but only succeeded in making the door slide open as she broke the sensor’s beam.

  “Someone is coming so if you could not draw attention to yourselves that would be great,” Tia said, glaring at Jane as she backed off slowly with a shameful look on her face. Tia angled the camera again but this time they saw the groups of men patrolling down the mall towards the entrances to the lifeboats.

  “Gentlemen, we need to ensure nobody leaves with our cargo, so to that end we will each take a life raft,” yelled a voice down the long mall. Again the voice was familiar to Steel but he couldn’t place it. The only thing on his mind was to take out the man just two stores away and take his life raft. Steel had a clear view through the store’s windows, however the mysterious leader was too far away for him to see.

  “Okay, here’s the plan,” Steel told the others over the radio. “I am going to take out the first guy and then wait for them all to go. That way you guys will be free and clear to get off the ship.” Steel’s words seemed reassuring to everyone, smiles of hope filled the group’s faces as they watched with bated breath as they could see Steel begin to move out of his hiding place.

  The group watched in horror as the mall was suddenly enveloped in flame and flying debris. The noise was like thunder, as a multitude of explosions ripped through the deck. The group flew back as the shockwave of the blast slammed against the double doors, buckling them slightly and smashing the safety glass. The bulkhead doors had been rigged with explosives to prevent anyone from leaving. There were no screams from the men, it happened so suddenly that they were now just charred remains. Tia screamed for Steel but heard nothing back—only crackling static filled the airwaves.

  “I think this is what Mr Black would consider as ‘something going wrong’,” Jane said, looking up at the large Russian. “You think?”

  They knew they had to move and get to safety, and once there they could work out a plan. Tia looked around. “Where the hell is Blacke?” she asked. Everyone else looked around, puzzled.

  “I bet that slimy bastard has an escape plan,” growled Jane.

  Tia shook off the moment of confusion and stood up. “We have to go, it’s not safe here. If Tony Black survived that blast, then he will be looking for us there.” The group, who were still in shock over the incident, nodded in agreement. Tia wiped the tears from her eyes and headed for the stairwells that led down to the lower decks. She gripped her weapon tightly for comfort as she turned and looked at the buckled door, then headed down into the belly of the ship.

  The room was full of smoke and burning trees and park benches, and the windowless shops gave the mall the appearance of a war zone. The silence hung in the air like a blanket of smoke, but it was soon broken by the crash of a large bookshelf being pushed up and over. Steel stood up shakily from the ordeal, his black clothes covered in grey soot. He had managed to get some shots off into the glass doorway and slid in, just as the explosion hit. The shockwave had sent the heavy wooden shelving crashing down onto Steel’s body, saving him from the flying debris and flames.

  He coughed out a lungful of dust and reached for the shoulder radio, but the broken device had a piece of glass and wood embedded in its casing. Steel groaned and ripped it from the shoulder pouch on his vest and tossed it aside, as he looked over at the damaged doorway he had come through. He smiled grimly, as he knew that as long as the others had done as he asked, they should be safe.

  The weary man stepped out cautiously, and the smell of barbequed trees and mercenaries was enough to make anyone gag, but he had smelt worse things. He looked round at the carnage as he made his way to the first door. The metal was slightly blackened from the blast but seemed undamaged. Steel moved closer to examine the door. The handle had been destroyed, making it impossible to open, and four charred square outlines had been embossed into the white metal.

  “Shape charges,” he muttered to himself. “Why the hell would anyone put shape charges to face the wrong way?” He stood up and looked around, only to see the same thing on the opposite doors. Someone wanted the group of people he was with, or some particular items to remain on the ship.

  He looked down at his watch. It was midnight, and in twelve hours they would be in New York and whatever was going to happen would happen then. He didn’t know exactly what had been in those boxes but he had a fairly good idea. The rules had changed but the game stayed the same: first stop whatever was going to happen and then save the survivors.

  As he ran back towards the double doors the blond-haired Mr Williams watched Steel disappear. “Gentlemen,” he said, “it would appear that not all of our guests are napping. Find Blacke and bring him to me.”

  Deck Four was the lonely deck. This was home to the crew quarters and the main lobby and check-in point. The lobby was dimly lit with tree lights that illuminated the great palm trees and the few ceiling lights. Shadows caressed every corner, making it eerie and unwelcoming. The stairwell door opened slowly and a figure crept out and hid in the shadows, in the distance the sound of men’s heels tapping on the marble floor broke the silence of the deck, the sound of someone running for cover. Slowly the figure broke from the concealment of the shadows. Motionless, the person listened to the footsteps disappear, and then slipped back to the safety of the darkness.

  Two men sat and argued in the poorly lit kitchen next to the captain’s dining room. Grant and Martin Goddard sat at the staff’s table with a plate of what had been the previous night’s dinner, and the cold beef slices still held their flavour and tenderness.

  “So what are we going to do, Grant?” Martin asked. “Do you want to answer me that?”

  Grant looked up at the sweating man and smiled. “Look, w
e made it past the gas and hid from those lunatics, now we can make it to the lifeboats, those rubber dinghies and get the hell off of here.”

  Martin thought for a moment then nodded as he nervously bit into the meat. “Okay, sounds good.”

  Grant smiled at his escape buddy as he filled the glasses in front of them with water.

  “Or you could come with me and join the rest of the group?” a voice called out from behind them.

  They turned round startled, as Steel stepped out of the shadows.

  “How did you find us?” Grant asked, looking around to see if there were others with him.

  “Trade secret,” Steel told him. “Remember: if you’re going to run, at least take your shoes off.”

  Grant smiled and shrugged as Martin shot him a disappointed look.

  Steel moved quickly with the other two following close behind, stopping only for him to check the corners. The leading man was hoping that the explosion and his own antics had thinned down the mercenaries’ numbers. As they reached the heavy door to the cargo bays and engine room stairwell, Steel raised a hand and told the others to get back.

  “Okay, you guys stay here,” John told them. “Once I’m in, shut the door behind me and don’t open it until I say.”

  The two men looked at him puzzled, but nodded as if they had a choice. As Steel opened the door he moved in quickly, keeping low into cover when sparks flew off the bulkhead as someone opened up with bursts of fire.

  “Hold your fire, it’s me, Antony Black!” Steel shouted. He shook his head as he had a good idea who was shooting.

  “Prove it!” Jane Stewart yelled back.

  Steel shot a confused look at Jane’s direction. “Okay, I am coming out. Hold your fire.” He edged out but was forced back by the stray rounds that were impacting off his cover.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he heard Bob yell at her.

  “He moved too quickly. Sorry.”

 

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