by Simon Toyne
Then everything went quiet.
Cornelius had already dropped into position behind a crate when the car-horn had sounded, but Johann was still coming in through the door. When he crashed heavily to the concrete floor, Cornelius knew he’d been hit. He dragged him into cover, rolled him on his back and checked him over.
There was a large wound on the upper part of his firing arm. It was bleeding but not pumping. Then he saw more blood bubbling from a ragged wound in his neck. Johann looked up with confusion in his eyes, lifted his hand and felt the surge of hot liquid against his palm. He brought it away and stared dumbly at the thick wet redness that continued to ooze rhythmically from the ragged neck wound. Cornelius pressed down hard with his hand, trying to stem the flow. Realized it was useless. Johann knew it too. He twisted away from the pressure. Reached into his canvas bag that had fallen to the ground and pulled out two small objects. They were olive green and round and looked like small steel fruits. ‘Go,’ he said.
Cornelius glanced down at the grenades then back into Johann’s eyes. He saw the brightness slowly fading in them. The blast on the horn had ruined the element of surprise. He should have shot Kutlar rather than leave him alone in the van. Johann was now dying because of his mistake. He would kill Kutlar slowly when he got the chance. He reached over and quickly made the sign of the Tau on Johann’s forehead, his fingers tracing a bloody mark where they touched the skin.
‘Keep them busy, but don’t harm the girl,’ he said, remembering the Abbot’s message. He released the empty clip from his gun and snapped a new one in place. He took one last look at Johann. Nodded once then angled the gun over the top of the crate and started firing rapidly as he moved backwards across the concrete floor, away from the line of crates and towards the open door.
Chapter 117
Arkadian’s ears were ringing from the gunfire and his shoulder hurt like hell, but he still felt sharp. He reached up. Pressed his hand against the wound. Felt the wet hole in his jacket where the bullet had passed through. Took it away and examined it. The blood on his palm was dark, not bright. It wasn’t arterial. He wasn’t bleeding too badly. He looked across at Gabriel, crouched low by the shot-out window, his eyes scanning the silent warehouse for movement.
‘You OK?’ the woman’s voice asked. He turned to look at her. She was hunkered down next to an open box of cartridges, her black hair tumbling over her face in a silken wave as she dexterously refilled the clip from his gun.
‘I’ll live,’ he said.
She looked up. Nodded towards the corner. ‘You should go look after her,’ she said. ‘This isn’t your fight. It’s not hers either.’
He followed her gaze to where Liv was still huddled beside the photocopier. From his new angle he saw something else. Underneath the ruined TV set there was a door set into the wall with FIRE EXIT written across it in bold green letters.
‘I wouldn’t do that,’ the old man said, reading his thoughts. ‘They’ll know there’s a back way. Anyone heading through that door will be walking straight into trouble.’
Kathryn snicked the last cartridge into the clip and smacked it back into the stock of Arkadian’s gun. ‘Just watch the exit and keep your head down,’ she said, holding it towards him by the barrel. ‘You got a mobile?’ Arkadian nodded and instantly regretted it as another sharp pain shot through his shoulder. ‘Then call for backup. They’ll respond much quicker to an officer in trouble.’
He held her gaze for a second then reached out with his good hand and took the gun, feeling for the safety catch with his thumb and discovering it was already off.
Johann knew the walls of the office would dampen the blast from a grenade. He needed to get closer, or wait for the people in the office to come out. He figured the girl would stay in the office. She might be stunned by the explosions, or suffer shrapnel injuries, but she’d live. He could feel a numb coldness spreading from the ends of his fingers and feet.
At the far end of the warehouse he could hear the tinkle of glass and the scuff and crunch of cautious movement. His eyes dropped down to his gun lying on the painted concrete floor. He reached over and picked it up. It felt ridiculously heavy. Not a good sign. Slowly he unscrewed the silencer to make it lighter. He placed it on the floor beside him and felt the cold reach his knees as the heat continued to pump out from his neck.
Time was up.
He picked up the first of the two grenades.
Chapter 118
Gabriel rose slightly and scanned the warehouse over the jagged lower edge of the window. There had been no further movement since the last volley of gunfire. This meant one of two things. Either the man had retreated — in which case he would undoubtedly return with more men and more firepower, or he was still in the warehouse and biding his time. Either way they couldn’t just wait it out and hope for the best. They would have to force the situation.
A crunching sound drew his attention and he glanced over at the Inspector moving stiffly across the glass-gravelled floor to where Liv was huddled by the photocopier. He gripped a mobile phone in his mouth and held his wounded right arm stiffly across his chest. In the other he held a gun. Gabriel didn’t want to wait around while he called in the cavalry. After his visit to the morgue they would arrest him for sure — and being stuck in a cell for the next few days wasn’t going to help anyone. The Inspector reached Liv and leaned in close to whisper something. She looked up at Gabriel and smiled. He smiled back then looked away as more glass crunched behind him. Kathryn and Oscar were taking up a position by the door. Gabriel gripped his gun and raised it up as he glanced back out at the silent warehouse, scanning the gaps between the crates for movement.
Still nothing. Just shadows and air.
He looked over at his mother and grandfather, braced against the wall inside the open door, his mother in lead position. In her hand she held the Glock he had liberated from the man who now rested at the bottom of the quarry. She looked over her shoulder at him, her face sharpened with concentration. He held up his left hand so she could see it. Took a breath. Then dropped it.
As his left hand fell his right hand rose bringing his gun up over the lower edge of the broken window. The moment the barrel cleared it he started firing, letting off a tight pattern over the area he’d last seen the man go down. He fired eight shots. Three rapid rounds to put someone down, five slightly slower to keep them there.
He finished firing and scanned the warehouse through the thin cloud of blue smoke. Saw nothing. He glanced down over the edge of the broken window. Kathryn was now outside in the warehouse, her back pressed against one of the crates, in position and ready to go.
Johann heard the bullets rip through the air above his head and ping into the steel door beyond. One round clipped the top of the crate he was slumped against, showering him with wood and shards of aluminium before it ricocheted off to the right, whining as it went. All the while he kept his hand clamped to his neck, keeping the pressure on, staunching the flow of blood to buy himself just a little more time. He counted the shots and noted their frequency — three quick, five slower — classic cover fire. They were changing position. It meant they were coming for him. He smiled and closed his free hand round the two grenades in his lap. He was starting to feel cold and drowsy.
Not long now — he thought.
He started to recite one of the vigil prayers in his head.
He was dying doing God’s work, and God always gathered his own.
Gabriel reached the open office door and took up the position his mother had recently vacated. Three quick shots tore through the silence from outside and he spun away and was out of the door before the first of the slower shots sounded.
Johann counted the three quick shots and shifted his position, leaving bloody handprints on the cold concrete floor.
Every movement was an effort but he couldn’t wait any longer.
FOUR
The first of the slower shots rang out and his hand closed around the first grenade.
FIVE
He pulled the pin, pulled his arm back and threw it round the edge of the crate towards the office at the back of the warehouse.
SIX
He rolled over through the slick of his own blood. Pulled the pin on the second grenade. Hurled it down the gap on the other side.
SEVEN
Swept his gun from the floor and pushed himself upwards.
EIGHT
Rose above the top of the crate. Raised his gun. And started firing.
Gabriel saw the red figure rise, the gun rising with him, up towards the spot where his mother stood. He saw flame spit from the end of the barrel and a piece of packing case tear free from a crate halfway between them. The boom of the first shot echoed through the warehouse and the gun jerked up from the recoil, bringing the barrel closer to its intended target.
A second shot boomed out, this time from Gabriel’s gun.
A puff of red mist appeared behind the gunman’s head and it jerked backwards, like he’d been punched. Then he began to fall. Gabriel watched him crumple as the gunshot echoed through the cavernous hangar. It was only as the sound died away that he heard the metallic, clinking sound of something else, skittering across the concrete towards them. He shifted his aim and tracked the sound drawing closer, bouncing along the narrow channel between the crates. He realized what it was moments before it rolled into view right by the spot where his mother was crouched.
Kathryn turned to look at it but his body was already in motion, his legs pushing against the concrete, hurling his weight towards her as she began to rise. He connected with her like a charging linebacker, driving forwards and through her, using his momentum to carry them both as far from the grenade as possible before it detonated.
It was only as his head passed over her shoulder and his body slammed against hers that he saw the second grenade skip out from behind the crates towards the exact spot they were now heading.
Chapter 119
From round the edge of the office door Oscar had a clear view down the tunnel created by the rows of stacked crates. The grenade was halfway down when he spotted it, bouncing across the warehouse floor towards him. His reaction was instinctive. He stepped through the door, his hands rising up in warning, his head turning towards Gabriel and Kathryn. When he saw them locked together, unstoppably launched in his direction, he experienced a moment of divine clarity and everything slowed almost to a stop.
His eyes dropped back down to the grenade, turning slowly in the air, barely an inch above the ground. It bounced once, with a sound like a hammer striking stone, and continued moving towards him. He tensed his legs and shifted his centre of gravity towards it.
Ninety years. . he thought, as his body started to move. I have dodged the enemy’s arrows and spears for ninety years. .
The grenade spun closer, struck the outer wall of the office then bounced back, coming to rest right in front of him.
Not bad for a dead man.
He fell forward, flattening himself on the ground, smothering the grenade with his body.
Gabriel saw Oscar crumple and realized what he was doing. He reached out as their momentum brought them closer. Felt his fingertips brush the back of Oscar’s flight suit. Started to close his hand around the heavy-duty cotton.
Then the first grenade exploded behind him.
The pressure wave tore the flight suit from his grip, lifting him up and forward, over Oscar’s prone body and into the warehouse wall beyond. He hit it head first, with the full force of the explosion behind it, then slid heavily to the floor behind a crate. As he landed he felt consciousness being hammered out of him. He tried to shake his head clear. Tried screaming to shock himself awake. Then Kathryn crashed down on top of him, cracking his head against the concrete floor, finishing the job the wall had started.
The last thing Gabriel was aware of before he passed out was the ground shuddering beneath him and a muffled crump as the second grenade exploded.
Chapter 120
Arkadian had just raised himself up slightly, holding the phone above him, searching for a signal when the shock wave from the first explosion tore through the office. It slammed him against the horizontal locking bar of the fire door, swinging it open and spilling him out into the night. Pain exploded in his shoulder as he hit a patch of gravel, knocking the phone and gun from his hand. He bit down hard to stifle a howl of agony and rolled on to his side, away from the pain, taking deep breaths to smother it as he frantically scanned the area for signs of danger.
He saw Liv sprawled across the threshold of the open door, half in and half out of the warehouse. His phone lay on the gravel between them, shining a cold blue display light up into the night. He reached for it just as the second explosion shook the ground beneath him. He grabbed the phone and continued to look for his gun. Saw movement. Looked up at the fire door swinging slowly shut. Then he saw the man standing behind it.
Liv felt the second explosion more than heard it. It rumbled through the earth like muffled thunder, shaking her gently out of her daze. She looked up and saw Arkadian sprawled on the ground outside. He reached for his phone and picked it up. Then his eyes twitched up and past her, growing wide in shock at what they saw.
He jerked twice as two holes appeared in the front of his shirt then he flopped backwards on to the gravel revealing a gun on the ground, right where he’d been sitting.
Liv’s hands tore at the ground as she scrambled towards it. The square of light from the open door narrowing as it continued to swing shut behind her. She didn’t look round. Just focused on the gun. It’s grip towards her. The safety-catch off.
Her hand closed round it, a fingernail tearing against the ground as she hooked it through the trigger guard. She twisted round just as something heavy cracked across the back of her head, flooding it with light and blinding pain, then darkness. Then nothing at all.
Chapter 121
Sweat stung Kutlar’s eyes as he limped across the blacktop towards the guardhouse. He could feel the cool night air on his damp skin but it did nothing to quench the heat boiling up inside him. His wound was infected, he was pretty sure of that. He was also in shock from losing so much blood. He needed to get help fast or he might die after all. He couldn’t let that happen. Not now. It seemed like hours since he’d leaned on the horn and finally escaped from the van, but it was probably only a few minutes.
He’d heard the muffled exchange of gunfire through the pounding of his heart, then the silence that had followed the two explosions. Maybe everyone was dead. Even the guy who’d killed Serko. With no witnesses he could still talk his way out of this one. Just needed to get to the guardhouse and call for help.
The headlights lit him up from behind when he was just thirty feet away. The blood was pumping so loud in his head he hadn’t even heard the engine. Panic rose in his throat. He tried to run. Stumbling forward. Felt what was left of his stitches pulling and popping inside his leg.
The lights got brighter and lit up the side of the guardhouse just twenty feet in front of him. He could see the faint spray of red on the back wall. The guard hadn’t reached for a gun, but he must have one somewhere. If he could get to it, he might stand a chance.
He could hear the engine now, rising up through the thump of his heartbeat. The guardhouse pulled closer. Just fifteen feet now.
Ten more agonizing steps.
. . Eight more. .
. . Seven.
Cornelius drove straight through Kutlar as if he wasn’t there. He felt the crump as the police car smashed through both his legs and saw the windscreen cobweb where his head struck it on his way over the top.
He glanced in his rear-view mirror. Saw the body land head first on to the concrete, arms flopping lifelessly, legs twisting at unnatural angles. He slammed on the brakes. Threw the car into reverse. He didn’t want to leave anything to chance where Kutlar was concerned and he also didn’t want to leave a body in plain view.
The engine screamed as he hit the accel
erator and the crumpled pile of flesh and clothes grew bigger in the rear-view mirror. He braked a metre short, popped the boot and slipped from behind the wheel, leading with his gun. He rounded the rear of the car, half hoping to find Kutlar still alive. He liked the idea of him spending the rest of his life as a cripple, drinking through straws and shitting in bags. He was met instead by a fixed, blank stare and was almost disappointed.
He ducked down and quickly scooped the body from the ground. Felt broken bones crunch inside the swollen flesh of Kutlar’s legs as he wedged him inside the tight boot space next to the body of the driver. He had to lean his whole weight on the boot lid to get it to click shut then looked around the open ground of the airport as he made his way back to the driver’s seat. He saw no movement. Heard no distant sounds of sirens heading his way. He wanted to go back and sweep the warehouse, tie up any loose ends, but he had his orders and his primary objective had been achieved.
He climbed behind the wheel and glanced in the back where the girl lay unconscious. A set of handcuffs fed through a thick D-ring in the floor held her arms out in front.
He watched her chest move as she breathed and figured the crack on the head would keep her out long enough to get where they were going. He locked the doors anyway, just to be safe, then put the car in gear and eased on to the service road leading away from the airport and back to the city of Ruin.
VI
Chapter 122
‘Leave us!’ the Abbot said.
The Apothecaria looked up, surprised by a command coming from someone other than their master. They rose uncertainly, their attention switching from the Prelate, to the life-support machines they monitored, to the Abbot standing massively by the door.
