Killing Time

by John Kerr

  But this one is closer than close. She may not be mine anymore, Christ, she probably doesn’t even like me any more - but that means nothing. You know I only have to close my eyes and she’s right there in front of me. I was never one with a good imagination. But fuck, I can think in pictures now and it’s always the clearest picture ever, and I know it isn’t ever going to go away. She haunts me in a way I never thought possible but at the same time, when I think of her I get the greatest comfort. I can’t conceive of a time when I won’t love every single piece of her with absolutely everything I’ve got.

  I know it goes against all standard operational procedures for you to even contemplate letting me go in here tonight, but what has happened tonight is not of any standard that makes any sense to me. That’s why I need to go in here tonight, Peter… If she’s already dead, then there’s nothing I can do about that… I’ll just have to live with it as best I can. But if she’s in there and she’s still alive, if I can give her life back to her before I disappear from it forever, then that may help me sleep at night. Shit, I may even be able to stop the fucking train that goes rumbling through my head night after night. It’s as simple as that… no more, no less.’

  Peter was deep in thought; he could feel the inner torment Jake Silverman was suffering. Jake had just saved the life of the man responsible in some small way for the pain he was constantly in, and, as always, Jake had to get through it on his own. This was the biggest one-man job he had ever had. Peter could do little to help, he could only be there for Jake should he need it, which was so very doubtful.

  The road twisted on and on before them as the rain drove hard against the windscreen. Peter had the wipers going full speed and they just about cleared the water. But how Jake managed to see the flood on the road was a complete mystery.

  ‘Watch out!’ Jake screamed, and Peter automatically threw the vehicle to the right. It slewed sideways, bumping off the almost unused track and into a ditch before coming to a stop with a crash… Jake was out of the car the instant it came to a halt.

  ‘Christ, that was close!’ shouted Peter.

  ‘Yes. Do you want to see how close?’ answered Jake, as he stood looking at the old bridge…or what was left of it.

  ‘Shit!’ Jake shouted, his mind going into overdrive.

  ‘I could have done without this, that’s for sure. Okay, mate, here’s the only option left. You wait here for the troops. I’m going to go over the top and get to the house as fast as I can. Over the ridge is probably about ten or twelve kilometres, and I should be able to do that in an hour or so if I push it. When the guys get here you need to somehow get through this water and get there as soon as possible, then we’ll take it from there.’

  Jake was already standing outside the vehicle, fully equipped and ready, his MP5 loaded. He didn’t wait for a reply; he just turned and marched into the night with the wind and rain driving straight into his face.

  ‘Good luck, mate,’ shouted Peter after him into the dark, but Jake heard nothing.

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  He was leaning forward into the hill. Jake knew he was doing this for Vicky and hopefully, if all went well, he could walk away and let her get on with her life and, he hoped, she would let him get on with his. The rain fell harder than ever. He walked up the steep gradient and within minutes was wet through as the cold bit deep into him. His legs pushed on and on; he was on automatic pilot. The sodden marsh underfoot seemed to want to pull him down and within a short time his calf muscles ached and sent a shock of pain straight to his brain. The wind drove the rain harder and harder into him as he dropped his chin onto his chest and forced himself further and further up the steep gradient.

  The pictures that flashed into his head took all his concentration and only made him go faster and faster. Shit, if she was dead, then he was too. Jake couldn’t ignore the possibility that he would never see her beautiful face again.

  ‘Christ… just give her to Justin… forever, If it would mean that she gets out of this thing alive.’ Jake was talking to himself like never before. He was angry, although he knew that to be angry was the worst possible state of mind to be in as he carried out a delivery. He was a professional soldier doing a professional job, and he had to be completely professional, unaffected by all that went on around him. That’s what made him the very best. But deep down Jake knew that he hated the man who held Vicky’s life in his hands. The South African - whatever else happened tonight the one certainty was that he would end up very much dead.

  Jake ignored the horrendous weather and marched on for all he was worth. He was covering ground faster than he had ever done before and he felt as if he was flying. One hour later, Jake crossed the ridgeline and, without checking his map, dropped off the crest. He knew he would be at the house within the next thirty minutes. On the move, he checked and re-checked his weapon, listening for the reassuring click of the magazine going fully home. He pressed on and on, and as he peered through the night-sight he saw the target house. It was just over three kilometres below: the adrenaline rush almost knocked him over.

  She was down there… Dead or alive she was down there and he would be in the house very soon. It looked the same as he remembered it. Hang on, baby, I’m coming for you. It was the last thought of Vicky that Jake allowed himself. He turned right as he drew closer to the darkened house. Jake dropped his pace and gulped large mouthfuls of air, trying with everything he had to calm himself down - he didn’t want to start hyperventilating now. With only 500 metres to go, he looked through the night-sight once more. Everything was quiet; no one was about. Jake strained his ears and listened for any sound but heard nothing. He traversed slowly along the edge of the tree line; 250 metres ahead lay his target. The rain stopped. Jake looked to the heavens, and through the darkness he could see the black clouds overhead - he knew there was still rain up there. He could feel the dampness hanging in the air, and knew there was only an hour left of the night. Jake pushed on slowly; his feet made virtually no sound on the soggy ground, his whole body tingled in anticipation, he was completely switched on and his adrenaline let him ignore the conditions surrounding him. He reached the small wall at the corner of the trees and went down on one knee. The house stood directly ahead, but this time the van was parked at the side of the house. Jake knew in an instant that he had found her and it gave him the lift he so desperately needed. He also knew there was no way he was going to wait for back-up support. He would do this on his own, with no help from anyone except maybe the little brown-eyed angel who was so close he could feel her.

  Jake could see no lights. The skylight was still open slightly and he knew that would be his way in. He felt his heart begin to race as it pumped blood all round his body… Fuck, he felt tense. He stood up slowly and raised his weapon. He looked just above the pistol grip; the selector switch was set to single. He quietly switched it to automatic and then back. Jake so desperately wanted to empty a full magazine deep inside the South African’s body but knew that to change his normal routine would be dangerous. He dropped off his pack and stepped out, quickly reaching the small lean-to. A quick glance inside revealed only wet logs. Very slowly he moved along the back wall and came to the first window. The heavy curtains let no light reach him. He pressed his head against the glass and listened…nothing.

  He silently moved to the second window - same as before, no light, but this time he could most definitely hear voices. They were faint, but there were voices coming from behind the heavy, closed curtains. Jake pressed the side of his head harder against the glass till it almost broke. “Tittch.” It sounded like a slap on someone’s face. It was definitely the sound of skin on skin. Then he heard a low muffled cry. It was difficult to make it out - was it the sound of Vicky crying as someone forced their hand over her mouth? Jake looked up towards the roof and all around.

  ‘Fuck this! Let’s get up and in here,’ Jake said to himself, as he moved away from the window and very quietly climbed up on top of the second lean-to.
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br />   ‘Let’s hope this old fucker takes my weight.’ Jake knew he would have to be extra careful; this was an old building and could very easily give way beneath him. Although the rain had stopped the slated roof was still wet and very slippery. He crawled tentatively towards the skylight, his left hand gripping the apex - it was his only way of not falling off. He knew his silhouette would be clearly seen from a long way off but there was nothing he could do about that. Jake could only hope that all his targets were inside the house. It felt like forever, but eventually he made it to the small skylight on the dilapidated roof. It opened easily and Jake lowered his head inside to take a closer look. It was the roof space above the house, in which lay only old rubbish. He quietly and slowly lowered himself down, only letting go of the cast-iron frame of the skylight when he was sure that the timbers inside would support his weight. There was no floor below him, only the timber joists running from the front of the house to the back. He could see both sides of the house to his left and right, and in the centre was a trap door. Behind this lay an assortment of old junk from times gone by. The plaster roof below the joists had a few holes dotted here and there. Jake knelt down and slowly let the light from the room below show him the scene inside. There was an old table on which sat a battery powered lamp. Next to the table was a long couch. On the couch sat a target. He was reading something but Jake couldn’t make out what it was.

  The room held no more. If she’s here then she must be in the other room, Jake thought. Slowly, and as quiet as he had ever been, he very carefully stepped onto the roof joists and picked his way across the roof to the second room. Finding another broken part of the plaster he peered inside… Jake’s heart lifted, while at the same time the view almost made him sick. The light given off from another lamp showed the room to be almost empty of furniture. There was a small chest of drawers and a single bed, on top of which lay target number two - the South African. Lying next to him was Vicky. Christ, he’s got his arm round her. They looked asleep and so peaceful. Was she dead?

  No! She’s not! The words screamed inside Jake’s head. She’s got her eyes open. The light from the lamp was quite dull but Jake could still make out that Vicky had her eyes open… she was alive!… It was as if a dark cloud had suddenly lifted. Yes! Yes! Yes! He screamed so loudly inside his head that he feared those down below would hear. Jake closed his eyes and the relief almost made him cry out. He lay above them in the stinking dirt that had accumulated over many years in the unused space at the top of the old house. He surveyed everything else in the room, the position of the door, and what the South African’s likely reaction would be if Jake burst in through the door or the window. Jake knew that it was going to be very difficult to first-guess what the South African would do with Vicky. Would he kill her first? Would he try to kill Jake first, or would he simply panic? No, he definitely wouldn’t panic. These guys were real professionals; they were good at their job and feared no one. Slowly he lifted his head, glanced towards the first room and then back again… First room – back again. The plan, although not perfect, was the only way.

  Jake knew the only way was to take the target who was awake, and possibly switched on, first. He definitely didn’t like the idea of leaving Vicky’s captor till last. It would mean going into the room she was in having already made a bit of a commotion next door. Deep down Jake knew it was the right thing to do but he fought the decision anyway. He didn’t like it but he had no option. Jake had one last, long, lingering look through the small hole at Vicky and very quietly muttered the words.

  ‘Love you always, babe.’ He knew that no matter what transpired in the next few minutes it would be the last time he would say those very special words. He moved slowly and methodically towards the trap door and gave it a slight tug…Shit! It was locked. Jake glanced up at the open skylight and slowly shook his head. Turning back, he knew he had only one way into the room. A final look inside told him everything was as before. Jake stood bolt upright, ready to launch his final assault, and as he tried to compose himself he heard what sounded to him to be the loudest creak ever from the old timber beneath his feet. The decision to go had been made for him. Go! Jake slipped both his feet together and half-turned his body so it was at right angles to the joists on which he had been standing. Suddenly Jake felt his body drop straight through the plaster roof and into the room below… CRASH!… Number one target almost jumped into the air. The room filled with dust as the plaster roof almost completely gave way.

  Tap, tap, tap.‘One’. The force of the rounds as they entered the target’s body buckled his legs and twisted him 180 degrees. He died without ever setting eyes on his killer.

  Pasquale Dumas lay dead.

  Jake bounced on the floor and rushed straight for the door on his left. He knew he had only one more target, and that was almost certainly the South African who had forced himself on the one person who meant everything to Jake. The action taken by him within the next few minutes would be the one that would lead to both Jake and his beloved Vicky getting out of this mess alive… As he grabbed at the door handle he felt his right hand switch the MP5 to automatic fire, and he knew that he would empty the remainder of his magazine into the body of the guy next door. Jake pulled the door open and rushed into the darkened hall. Suddenly the floor came up to meet him as he fell over a chair that had been left in front of the door.

  ‘Fuck!’ he yelled out.

  ‘Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!’ His momentum was temporarily broken.

  ‘Jake!’ he heard Vicky scream. ‘Jake!’…

  Rat, Tat, Tat, Tat, Tat - the splinters of wood fell from the door in front of Jake as Vicky’s captor fired through the still-closed door. You’ve made an arse of this, sonny boy. The thought stung him as he rolled over away from the bullets. Without a moment’s hesitation Jake clambered to his feet and threw himself straight through the door and into the room.

  ‘Shit!!!’ Jake screamed.

  Vicky stood a metre in front of him, and just behind her stood the South African. He had his left arm around her neck and a Colt 38 super was pressed hard against the side of her head.

  ‘Jake!’ she screamed, as Jake automatically reached out for her.

  ‘No,’ said the large man behind her. ‘No… No… No…’ he said again in a broad South African accent.

  FIFTY-NINE

  Jake’s mind raced. The urge to kill the man standing in front of him was overwhelming. Jake’s MP5 was in his shoulder and the muzzle pointed directly at the centre of the man’s head. He knew that with a small flick of his index finger it would all be over. What was he waiting for? Jake couldn’t take his eyes off the silver coloured Colt 38 pressed hard against the side of Vicky’s head. He had a problem but he also knew that every problem has a solution.

  ‘I’ve been hearing a great deal about you Mister Jake Silverman.

  ‘How do you know my name?’

  ‘This little lady here told me all about you.’ he said as he licked the side of Vicky’s head.

  ‘And yours is?’ Jake said stalling for time. Jake tried to find the answer to his problem

  ‘Demarco Salis. Ex Rhodesian military forces.’

  ‘Never heard of you.’

  ‘I’m the man who’s going to kill you.’

  ‘I’m shaking in my slippers.’ Jake gripped the MP5 tighter. He knew he somehow had to keep the conversation going.

  ‘You’ll be dead soon enough.’ said Demarco.

  ‘Don’t you think you’ve killed enough people in your life?’

  ‘There’s always room for another small one and I think you fit the bill perfectly.

  ‘History will show you to be just another bad apple.’

  ‘You don’t know the half of it Jake.’

  ‘Is that right.’

  ‘I’ve fought and killed half way across Europe. I’ve been up against the best there is. From the Mafia to the Taliban. I’ve exchanged fire with Special Forces the world over. There is no-one out there to compete with me.’


  ‘Doesn’t matter how good you think you are there’s always someone better just round the corner.’

  Jake knew even if he managed to take Demarco’s head clean off his shoulders there would always be the possibility of a dead man’s tremble. Even with the brain dead and full of bullets the central nervous system could still be active. Demarco could still pull the trigger and Vicky’s life would be over.

  ‘You think you’re the man for the job Mister Silverman?’ Demarco said as he threw a reciprocating flick of the colt at Jake. Immediately he had signed his own death warrant. Jake saw it and now knew exactly what he had to do.

  ‘You’re nothing more than a bully. I’ll bet when you were young the street kids stole your chocolate.’

  ‘No-body ever took chocolate from me, ever.’ Jake saw anger rise in Demarco and pressed on.

  ‘Didn’t you have any friends? I’ll bet your parents locked you in your room when they went on holiday.’ Jake had to get Demarco angry enough to want to kill him. That way for a split second Vicky wouldn’t be in the line of fire. It would then be a case of the quickest reaction wins. Jake knew injury or even death to himself was highly likely but that was a chance he knew he had to take.