The big men did exactly as asked. They shifted around the shop and moved into every room and locked it down. Trevor flipped the rectangular tables onto their shortest side and stood them up – three side by side to barricade the window, Then he groaned and heaved the refrigerated bar of sandwich fillings around to fill the rest of the window. “Get back into the kitchen, Miss Roberts. They can’t shoot you from there.”
Eva nodded and took the advice while Trevor and the boys drew weapons and dropped to the floor behind their barricades. The predators outside moved past the window, their faces appearing in the cracks between the tables as if taunting them. Eva caught a glimpse of them. If they attacked now, she guessed it would all be over in a matter of minutes, seconds even. She pressed her back to the white kitchen tiles beneath a stainless steel food preparation counter and breathed as slowly as she could. She saw the nearest man’s brow was pouring with sweat. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind then she noticed how much she was sweating too, and she wiped her brow.
A phone started to buzz and Eva looked around. Trevor was sitting opposite her in the café, breathing hard. He struggled and reached for his mobile phone from his jacket pocket. He answered the call.
“Mr Gillespie. Yes. Yes. She is. But it’s not going well. We’re trapped in a coffee shop, locked in, a horde of suited bastards – Ruskies we think– are patrolling outside and getting ready to smoke us out.”
There was silence, though she could just make out the faintest noise of Gillespie’s voice. Trevor nodded and grunted “Uh-huh. Yep.”
He lifted the phone away from his ear and offered it to Eva.
“The boss wants a word with you.”
Eva reached out from her hidey-hole and took the phone.
“Yes?”
“For a while I still thought this was all down to you, did you know that?” she said. “I thought the assassin was yours, even though they said she was Russian. I thought the note at the Galvans was yours.”
“I wouldn’t waste my time on games, Miss Roberts.”
She remembered the visit by Gillespie’s thugs at the Southend pub and the countless heavy breathing calls she’d received and chose not to mention them.
“They wanted me to become a worse villain than I am, didn’t they? They wanted to turn me into a pariah so they had the perfect storm for my murder. If they managed to kill me after I’d become such an outcast, no one would have cared. In fact, the country would have thrown a party. But I’m just a businessman. And businessmen don’t get into affairs that ruin their businesses. We’re far too pragmatic for that. Don’t get me wrong, Miss Roberts, I would have killed you. Before all this, I would have definitely had you killed. But I’m a practical man. And I have to admit, killing you now would be very bad for business. Very bad indeed. What does it feel like sitting there waiting to die?”
Eva wanted to scream at the evil old bastard. She closed her eyes and ground them shut, blocking out the stress and the terror at the sight of the men grouping outside like zombies ready to smash their way in.
“What do you think it feels like, Mr Gillespie?” she said breathily.
“It’s life changing, don’t you think? I’ve been there.”
Eva swallowed. Her mouth was dry.
“Remember that feeling and don’t you ever mess with me again. I would have killed you once. But I’m going to help you. Stay alive. Reinforcements are on the way.” Gillespie hung up.
Stay alive. She remembered Dan’s words and thought of him tenderly. She hoped he was still alive. A phone started buzzing again, this time in her bag. She slipped it out and pressed it to her ear without checking the caller ID. Eva’s eyes caught sight of a different shadow beyond the door, this one had the flowing shape of a woman’s long hair. The face came into view, appearing from the silhouette. Anna Kropotkin was peering into the shop. Their eyes met and Anna made a thin knowing smile.
The voice on the line didn’t belong to Dan. “GET DOWN!” it commanded.
Eva threw herself flat on the floor as the front window imploded and shards of glass and smaller fragments flew across the whole shop space. “Quinn?” she asked.
“Yeah, it’s Quinn. Now stay on the line.”
Trevor scrambled towards the kitchen, two of the other men retreating with him.
“I’m getting into position and will give you instructions. Stay on the line.”
The fridge counter moved with a shriek of its feet struggling on the linoleum floor. The flooring concertinaed and tore. Two of the tables fell onto their backs, legs in the air, while another was tossed back into the shop, clattering and spinning on the floor. Light and wind poured into the coffee shop, sweeping Eva’s hair around her face. There was a sound of quiet thuds, and two of the Travellers beside her were thrown around groaning, blood spraying from their bodies. Trevor pulled Eva back and threw the kitchen door shut against the blockage of the men’s bodies. The door wouldn’t close, but it gave them some protection.
“Hello, Miss Roberts. It’s time now,” said the woman. She recognised the voice. Not Russian or European. Not Asian. Not Spanish or American. It seemed to be a little of all of these things and none of them. This woman had been travelling longer than she had was Eva’s guess.
“You’re wrong, Anna. You’re going to die before me. I swear it.”
“Words are worthless,” the woman said “It’s finished. Everyone here knows it’s finished. Even you.”
There were footsteps in the shop, crunching on the pebbles of glass. They were quiet, but they were getting nearer and nearer. Eva saw the beads of sweat on Trevor’s big head spilling down his brow, rolling into rivulets which swam down his neck. He looked at Eva and nodded, and showed her his little gun. He made a smile, but it wasn’t convincing.
The glass crunched just beyond the door outside. The light from the shop changed, and Eva saw a long shard of glass lying just beneath the door. She pressed down on it and slid it to herself. The door wavered, and then it shoved in. Trevor let loose a shot and the door splintered. The quiet thudding came again, and Trevor’s head was thrown around before he fell back. Dead. Eva gritted her teeth and swept her arm up and across in a vicious arc. The glass bit into the woman’s flesh and dragged through it, tearing and cutting. A flash of red blood filled the air and she screamed. The pistol dropped from the hand of the killer and skittered into the kitchen. Kropotkin clamped her good hand down on her shooting hand, and blood pulsed up between her fingers. “Back door. NOW!” Eva heard the small voice on the phone shout and she scrambled forwards as another unseen gunman let loose s shot. A floor tile burst beside her. The remaining two Traveller men followed her into the grey light of the back door. Before they reached it another quiet shot tore through the air and the rear man’s calf was torn open by a bullet. He growled but pushed on. The back door burst wide open and a man in a flak jacket, shades and black hat filled the door. His rifle was cocked. “Move!” he shouted and pulled the trigger. Behind them Kropotkin spun away from the door. The shop filled with light as the suited men and the woman ran for their lives.
Eva pulled herself past the man with the semi-automatic. He pushed past them into the shop. The voice of Quinn filled her ear as Eva breathed again.
“Meet me in Berenger’s Court. As soon as you can.”
“Where?”
“Nearby. You’ll find it. ASAP.”
Eva looked at the two men beside her. They were bewildered. One of the men’s faces was contorted in pain.
“Get some towels from the kitchen. We need to bind his leg quickly.”
The unhurt man nodded and pushed back into the kitchen, his back hunched to avoid any bullets.
“The people who just helped us. They want us to go to Berenger Court. It’s nearby.”
“Fuck that,” the injured man winced.
Eva’s brow furrowed. “What?”
“Berenger’s Court is a dead end. It’s a trap. And I’ve had enough bloody traps on your account, woman.”
Nineteen
“Kropotkin is injured. I cut her hand up pretty bad,” said Eva. There was no celebration in her voice. They were on the move. Dan had survived, and she was overjoyed to see him unharmed. She recognised the relief and joy seeping around the edges of his aggression. His face was set, but when he looked at her, she saw a spark of happiness in his eyes.
“We lost some people back there. Parazkin came to help and he’s gone already.”
“Trevor and two of the Travellers are gone. Gillespie says he’s sending more people.”
“By the time they arrive this will all be over – one way or another.”
They were following the GPS on their smartphones, trying to use the backstreets of Shad Thames to find Berenger Court. The GPS had enabled them to coordinate regrouping. With the three remaining Russians, and six remaining Travellers, one badly injured and being supported by two others, they were in bad shape. But at least the assassin was hurt too. It equalised things, but not by much. The backstreets here had some second-tier coffee shops, newsagents, dry-cleaners and clothiers hanging on to the coattails of their bigger relations on the main streets. They walked quickly past the shops. Berenger Court was coming up soon. They would have to double back, making a horseshoe onto one of the busier streets so they could reach it. Before they reached the street where they would have to turn left, the breeze whipping up their jacket collars, Dan turned to stare into another sandwich bar. He saw a vast flat screen at the back of the shop with the red news ticker at the bottom beside the time box. BBC News was reporting on a Terrorist Incident. Eva joined Dan and tracked the images, the brown buildings, the images of police vans and armed police with flak jackets and helmets on. The news ticker said ‘Breaking News: Police report a suspected terrorist incident under way near London’s Tower Bridge…’
The spooks were right. History was unfolding all around them, and as quick as it was being written it was being rewritten by the powers that be. Eva shook her head. This wasn’t terrorism, this was gang war and an international war unfolding on London’s streets. Only someone didn’t want it seen that way.
“Dan, what’s going on?”
Eva looked at him and waited.
“I don’t know. But I don’t like what I’m seeing. Come on.”
“The Travellers think we are walking into a trap.”
Dan shrugged. “Look at that screen. This whole place is a trap.”
Dan started walking on. Eva watched for a second more and followed suit.
They came to the end of the street and looked left towards the main street. People were streaming past. There the people they saw were hurrying. Panic was in the air, but Eva couldn’t see any armed police ahead. Dan took the lead with Eva behind him, Brodski and Georgiev leading the rest of their squad. They came to the main street, with its rushing stream of people, the sounds of chatter and heightened emotion. Somewhere there was shouting, like orders being given out. The air was tense.
“Left and then left again takes us into Berenger,” said Dan, looking at his phone.
“Fine. But let’s shift before those Russians return,” said Eva.
Dan shook his head. “They’ve been withdrawn. If they were still deployed we’d know all about it. Come on.”
They moved quickly into the stream of people. Far up ahead there was a line of police, backed with a large police van, its side facing the street. They were checking people as they moved through the line in the distance. Eva took a look back. A similar cordon had been set up at the far end.
The mouth of Berenger Court came upon them. It was a gap between two buildings which were the mirror image of each other, beige brick with faux columns and scrolls decorating edges of windows and brickwork. The building was tall on the other side and pressed in on them as they walked through. Beyond the narrow space, Berenger Court opened out into a courtyard. There were doors and a delivery depot on one side. There were other doors without windows on the other side, some numbered, some not. The building looked like the back of a retail or industrial space. The few windows on the upper floors said none of the building was residential. They walked slowly into the heart of the court and looked around, turning as they did so, waiting for the meaning or the message to be revealed. Lastly, the Traveller with the leg wound frowned and said. “It’s a trap.”
The side doors, thick and panelled with metal opened. A steady stream of men in dark clothes, flak jackets and dark glasses emerged. A few ran up towards the mouth of the court behind them, and took up positions just out of sight of the street. When the manoeuvres were finished, a gathering of ten armed men in black fatigues stood before them, and another set of four stood behind them. They were outnumbered and out gunned on every count.
“On my mark,” said one of the men. Dan’s eyes seized on him.
“You. You’re in charge,” said Dan.
“Take aim. On my mark you shoot.”
The man was British.
“Wait!” said Dan. “Listen to me. Quinn! Listen to me.”
The man at the end who was barking the orders removed his shades. Eva recognised Quinn. Georgiev swore in Russian. “Are all these British security people working for the Russians?”
Quinn glanced at Georgiev, then looked back at Dan.
“Why are you doing the Russian’s work for them? Why are you calling this a terrorist incident? Look at yourselves! Who are the bloody terrorists here? Tell me that!”
“In a game of Risk, Mr Bradley, sometimes the good guys have to lose some people. Sometimes we have to appear to lose the battle in order to win the war.”
“So, what are you going to do, sacrifice us? You’re going to kill all of us and blame it on them? This is what they want! Is that what you signed up for? To help a rogue nation destroy your own one?”
The guns kept steadfast, all pointing at Eva, Dan and the others, but Eva sensed the beginning of a tilt in the mood amongst the troops ranged against them. Quinn must have sensed it too. He looked across at his men. “Hold fire. But on my mark, you will shoot. Strategically, it has been decided to allow some collateral damage in order to let the situation progress to the next level. Don’t worry about your country, Mr Bradley. When we reach the next level, we think we will have it safely contained. Maybe this is more like Chess than Risk. We always have to think at least two steps ahead.”
“You’re talking crap. Listen to yourself. You’re not allowing collateral damage, Quinn. You are killing innocent people.”
“One thing, Quinn,” said Eva. “Why save us just to kill us?”
“In a public place? We can’t allow the enemy to do what it likes on our streets, Miss Roberts. By managing it this way, we send out two messages. Number one, the United Kingdom remains in control. Number two, we are ready to do the unthinkable – we read your move and we make a move you cannot read. The Russians are priding themselves on unpredictability. But we can stun them too, by displaying ruthlessness and control. Now, do we all understand our part in this? Because we’ve got a job to do.”
“A job? Quinn. One question. Be honest, please, even if it’s for the first time in your whole life, just be honest.”
Quinn waited.
“What?”
“You’ve been ordered to do this. You know we are on the right side. Do you actually believe this is an order worth following?”
Quinn waited. “An order is an order.”
“No. Not every order. If you allow us to leave here now, we are going to make the enemy pay in full for what they’ve done. We have reinforcements coming.”
“Take aim!” shouted Quinn. The men in black raised their weapons and tensed ready to fire, their eyes squinting and heads tilting behind their gun sights.
“QUINN!” shouted Dan.
The Travellers groaned and swore. The Russian trio stood close and stared into the barrels of the guns.
“QUINN! We are fighting for the same cause!”
Quinn’s eyes locked on to Dan’s. Eva saw the power play. It was as if the atmosphere was changing under the weight of their stare. A few seconds passed. Quinn’s mouth opened.
“Men… “Quinn’s face twitched. “Lower your weapons.”
Dan smiled and his eyes opened wide.
“Mr Bradley. Our orders are clear. But the timeframe for executing those orders allows a fraction of flexibility. One chance. One short window. This matter needs to come to an end NOW. Are we clear? Do not make me regret this. One chance.”
Quinn barked an order and the men returned to a single line and ran back into the heavy doors of Berenger Court. Eva stretched out her arms and seized hold of Dan’s shoulders and leaned on him. They looked into one another’s eyes.
“I think we just used up all our nine lives,” said Eva. Quinn said this game was like Chess. To Eva it seemed more like Russian roulette. But even if that was the game they were playing, Eva was happiest when she had a gun in her hand. Unless they finished this now, however it was going to go down, death was approaching fast.
Twenty
“Hold tight here. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. I just want to do a recon of the area before we let you out in public. Are you okay with that?” asked Dan. Even when she was under threat of murder, when most people in their right minds would be filling their underwear, Eva still managed to make stress look beautiful. Eventually she nodded.
On Borrowed Time Page 12
