Break-In

by M G Leslie

  “Where were we Mr Price?” Lucy said rhetorically, “Oh yes, that’s right – I have beautiful eyes. Tell me about May?”

  “She was rubbish in bed,” said Price.

  Lucy just nodded at the man behind Price and he braced himself as the baseball bat came crashing down on the same arm again. This time though, Price had been expecting something, so as he fell to the floor he rolled up in a ball, as if to protect his arm. This was deliberate, because it gave him the opportunity he needed. He reached down between his legs, right in his groin and felt for a switch on the Tracker. As he touched it he knew what he had to do – push, slide and turn. That was the motion that activated it and ensured it could not be activated by accident.

  Lucy got impatient, and nodded again. Shortly after, the baseball bat came crashing down again, sending Price sideways which, ironically, gave him time to finish the activation sequence. “Thank god,” he said to himself as he looked up at Lucy and said, “Can I get back on the chair please?”

  Lucy just nodded, and again the baseball bat came crashing down. Then she said, “When did you first realise Mike was working for me?”

  “Just a lucky guess,” replied Price, trying to catch his breath as the baseball bat came crashing down once again.

  Lucy screamed incredibly loud – her eyes looking intensely at Price with a frightening hateful stare, “HOW DID YOU KNOW WE WERE IN STANLAY BAY?”

  Price was in agony by this time, but replied, “I don’t know – London directed me.”

  She screamed again, “TELL ME WHAT I WANT TO KNOW!”

  Price stayed calm, remembering his training, “You’re not getting anything out of me. You’re wasting your time.”

  Lucy just nodded and watched the baseball bat crash down on Price again – this time on his leg.

  Price forced himself to smile and said, “You’re wasting your time. In fact you are wasting time full stop – we found you in Stanley and my people will find you here.”

  “HIT HIM – HIT HIM HARD!” Lucy screamed, as the man struck Price in the leg again, causing him to screw his face up as the pain seared through his body.

  “WHAT DID YOU LEARN FROM YOUR VISIT TO THE CLUB?” she screamed again.

  Price just stayed silent, so she screamed at him again – asking a question, but so aggressively that it came out more like a statement, “HOW DID YOU FIND US AT STANLEY BAY!”

  Again Price was silent, so she continued, “HIT HIM – HIT HIM AND DON’T STOP!!” Then the baseball bat came crashing down and knocked Price on the floor, where he rolled up in a ball as he was repeatedly struck on the arms, back and legs.

  He knew he couldn’t survive like this – it was only a matter of time before something would be broken or his head would be hit and it would be over. So he tried to move away and make a run for the door, despite the two security guards with guns, still pointing at him. However, Lucy reacted immediately, and shouted, “STOP!”

  The man with the baseball bat stopped hitting him and the two men with guns stepped in front of Price, so that he would not move.

  The man with the bat looked at Lucy – waiting for her to give him the signal to hit Price again. But instead, she just looked at Price with an almost blank expression. So Price spoke, “Can I get back on the chair now please?”

  “No Mr Price,” Lucy replied in a calm voice, “You’re wasting my time. But let me make myself clear – you will answer my questions and you will tell me what I want to know. There is no way off this island for you – so I suggest you think about what you want and don’t want to say.”

  Price didn’t bother to reply, so after a short pause she looked at the security guards and said, “Take him back downstairs and lock him in – we’ll speak again later,” then she turned to the computer terminal on her desk and started typing without looking up again.

  Price got up off the floor and followed the security guards out of the room and down the corridor. He could see various doors, but had no way to tell if they were locked so he decided to wait until the stairs before making any attempt at an escape. He couldn’t allow himself to go back to the cell, because that was underground and from what he’d seen so far, it was a substantial stone building – the signal from his Tracker would never be picked up unless he was at ground level. Given his remote location, he wasn’t sure it would be picked up even at ground level. But he had to keep a positive mental outlook, so as he approached the stairs he pretended to slip, move to one side and bang his injured arm on the wall.

  In reality, he’d barely touched the wall, but he doubled-up in pain, holding his arm, screwing up his face. He could see that the security guards were nowhere near as professional as Lucy because they just stopped and watched. Then finally one of them ventured, “Get moving.”

  Price looked up with a desperate face and said, “I’m in agony and I think my arm is broken. Do you have a bandage and maybe a piece of wood or a stick I can use as a splint?” The guards just looked at Price, not really knowing what to do, so Price said, “Please. Take a look your self,” then he pretended to hold his arm out in their general direction.

  That was when the first guard nearest Price, made the worst mistake of his, soon to be very short, life. He put his gun back in the holster on his belt and stepped forward, thereby placing himself between Price and the other guard. With a swift movement, Price who was bent over but in reality, still on his feet, straightened himself to full height, whilst at the same time bringing his left, uninjured arm, upwards as fast and as hard as he could muster. The base of the palm of his hand caught the underside of the guard’s jaw, forcing his head back at great speed, breaking his neck in an instant.

  As the guard fell to the ground, Price knew that the second guard would have a clear shot. So whilst the body was still falling, he quickly stepped to his right. Sure enough, the remaining guard did have his gun pointing at where Price had been standing, but before he could adjust his position, Price delivered a brutal kick to the man’s abdomen, causing him to step back and bend double in pain. Before, he could recover, Price delivered a second kick under the man’s chin, breaking his jaw and sending his head flying backwards on to the floor where he was knocked out by the impact with the stone.

  Price’s work was not always a pleasant experience and sometimes he had to do things he didn’t enjoy. On this occasion, he needed to ensure the guard didn’t wake up, so he walked over to the second guard, placed his foot on the neck and push hard until he heard the windpipe break, then he looked around to see if anyone had heard anything.

  So far so good – he was on his own. So with his left arm, he dragged the bodies to the stairs and pushed them down. Fortunately, the solidity of the building worked in his favour. If they had been wooden stairs, it would have been an extremely noisy affair. However, the stone floor barely made a noise as their bodies fell.

  Once at the bottom, Price noticed a chair where one of the guards must have been planning to sit and watch him. It was an office chair with wheels, so he dragged the men towards it and managed to get their bodies bent over the seat which enabled him to push them down the corridor and in to the cell that had been destined for him. Then he removed their belts, tied them up as best he could, took their guns and ammunition and from one of the guards, his shirt – he planned to use that as a bandage to strap something to his arm to try and relieve some of the pain – but that would be for later, so he tied it round his waist and set off – he needed to get out of the building before Lucy discovered that he had escaped.

  Heading back up the stairs, Price tried the first door on the left. Fortunately it was not locked and led him to the square courtyard. He sprinted across and re-entered the building on the other side, desperately trying to see a window to the outside world.

  As a darted along the corridor on the other side of the courtyard from where he’d started, he saw an open door on his left that led in to another room. Whilst the room had no exit, a window in the distance showed him the way – it was a view of gras
s and trees, which for him meant somewhere to hide. So he ran further along the corridor, looking for a door to the outside and eventually found one, albeit padlocked shut. After checking for alarms and cameras, he assured himself that he was alone and used the butt of one of the pistols to break the lock and force the door open.

  As he stepped outside, Price could see that he had a good 100 meters to run before he had any cover. That was easily enough time for even the worst marksman to shoot him in the back. So rather than just make a run for it, he hugged the outside wall of the building and, ducking down to avoid being seen by anyone who was looking out of a window, he made his way further round the building to the next corner, in the hope that it would be a shorter distance to run.

  It hadn’t helped him much – there was still probably about 50 meters to run, but that was better than before. Then suddenly he stopped and listened. He could hear shouting in the distance – they must have discovered the bodies. So no time to delay, he summoned all his strength and ran as hard and fast as he could for the tree line. In his younger days, 50 meters should have been no more than 7 or 8 seconds at worst – but in his current physical state, he was well aware it would probably take longer.

  As he hit the tree line, he could hear the shouting getting louder – they were clearly looking for him so he ducked down out of sight and tried to see if his sprint across the open land had left any tracks they would see. He had been lucky as it was mostly gravel, so the stones didn’t give his pursuers a track to follow.

  Looking back at the building, Price could now see people running up and down the corridors, in and out of rooms – some were even looking through the windows to see if he was outside. Even though he was on the run, Price was first and foremost an SIS officer, so as he watched, he tried to note how many people he could see and the types of weapons they were carrying. Assuming he could escape and be recovered by his SIS colleagues, that would all be useful information.

  After a while, the commotion in the building seemed to die down, but Price just kept low to the ground to avoid being seen. He was grateful for the dark clothes he’d worn when he visited Stanley Bay the previous day – minus his shoes, which Mike had ripped off.

  Having waited a little while longer, he decided he’d be OK to break cover and cautiously headed off in to the woods and away from the building.

  At this point he had no idea where he was – he just knew he had to survive for a day or two and rely on his Tracker, so he pushed hard to get as much distance between himself and the building, as possible. He was of course, well aware that the very people he was running from, would also be able to detect the Tracker, but that was a risk he had to take – and in any case, the Tracker used an unusual frequency and pulse – so unless Lucy was very thorough, he was probably fairly safe.

  Very soon though, the rough ground started to rip his feet apart. He stopped, tore out the pockets of his trousers and with some of the shirt he’d taken off one of the security guards, managed to wrap some cloth around his feet, being sure to put as much as possible underneath to try and protect himself from jagged rocks.

  That done, he set off again. But the island looked like it was originally volcanic – the ground was very rough and uneven and the majority of it seem to be covered in dense bush with really sharp boulders under foot. So it was only a matter of minutes before his, already badly bruised, legs were getting cut and the makeshift shoes were worn out – he was in trouble again and the last thing he needed was to be immobilized by infected feet.

  There was nothing for it – he’d have to find somewhere to hide and hope his friends found him before his enemies.

  Walking slower and slower, Price came to the coast and decided to strap up his arm so that he could climb down to sea level. It wasn’t a particularly large drop, maybe only 30 feet in his estimation, but his arm was agony, so there was no way he could do that without some form of bracing.

  He spent a couple of minutes looking for a branch or twig that he could use as a splint, but nothing looked suitable – everything was either too thick, too thin or covered in sharp spines. Then he had a bright idea. He took one of the guns he’d taken off the security guards and started to disassemble it. He knew his way around guns pretty well and this was a Glock. He could remove the top half of the gun that enclosed the barrel. That piece of metal would be dead straight and could be strapped over the painful part of his arm.

  So as quickly as he could, using his teeth and left hand to tie knots, Price made his right arm more comfortable, then he carefully stowed the other pistol in his belt along with the ammunition from both guns. Once satisfied he was ready, he used some leaves to cover his tracks on the ground and slowly started to climb down.

  Even as he descended, he could hear shouting in the distance – so they were still searching for him and were clearly not far away – but he had to put that out of his mind, because the last thing he needed was to get distracted and fall.

  As the voices became louder and louder, Price looked up and started to move to his left where he could see some boulders sticking out from the cliff – they’d help to hide him if someone looked over the edge. Then a few moments later he finally reached the beach and immediately ducked in to a small alcove – praying that he wouldn’t be in trouble from the tide, which he could see was only about 30-40 feet away.

  As he waited to see what would happen, the voices continued to get louder – so, fearful that he was about to be discovered, Price removed the gun from his belt, checked that it was loaded and continued to listen.

  After a few tense moments, the voices started to go quieter again, but Price didn’t move – he’d used that as a trick to capture people in the past – pretend to walk away, but in reality sit in wait – so he looked at his watch and checked the time. It was getting late in the day now, so he’d need to find water to drink and ideally make a fire of some kind before all the bugs, and more significantly, mosquitos, came out for a night time feed.

  After around half an hour, Price was satisfied that he was alone and slowly started to make his way along the beach, hugging the cliff to avoid making footprints in the sand. He was looking for something that he could use to hold water and eventually got lucky – he found a rusty tin can that presumably had started life on a ship, only to be emptied, thrown over the side and now washed up on a shore.

  “Thank goodness for that,” he thought, as he made his way back to where he’d climbed down. Price wanted to get back there as he’d noticed some relatively dry pieces of wood that had fallen down to the beach – so he could use those for a fire.

  Part of his specialised training with the SAS included survival methods and techniques. Consequently, Price had become well practised at making a fire in all sorts of circumstance – so it didn’t take him long to get some smoke and finally flames rising up from the pieces of wood. Once that was going he sprinted to the sea, filled the tin can with seawater and placed it over the fire to boil. He couldn’t drink the saltwater from the sea, but his plan was a simple one – boil the water, capture the steam using some cloth he ripped off the bottom of his trousers and suck the, now fresh drinking water, out of the cloth. It was a tried and tested method – it wouldn’t keep you going forever, but for the moment it would quench his thirst.

  Once he’d had a drink and satisfied himself, Price turned to his feet – they were in a bad way. He removed the cloth that covered them and could see the cuts – some of which were quite deep. “This is going to hurt,” he told himself, as he used some pieces of wood to pick up the tin can and poured the hot salty water on his feet.

  The stinging sensation made his eyes water – but he knew that it was boiled and full of salt – so it would most definitely help to keep him free of infection. Before they could get dirty again, he tore some of his shirt off and wrapped it around his feet as a bandage – then made himself as comfortable as he could in the small alcove in the cliff. It was starting to get cold, but he’d placed the fire between him and the sea �
�� so as a breeze blew in it kept him warm and even started to dry the bandages on his feet.

  As a result of the repetitive sound of the waves combined with the heat from the fire, Price started to feel drowsy and a little while later he fell asleep – although not a deep sleep – over the years, he’d managed to develop a semi-conscious method of sleeping where he would wake up quickly at the slightest sound nearby.

  CHAPTER 9 – Mystery Caller

  Whilst Price was fighting for his life, GCHQ had picked up the Tracker signal, but then lost it again, as it was coming from such a remote island off the coast of the Philippines.

  “We can’t triangulate the position Sir,” said the Chief of Staff to the Chief. “We got a brief blip, so we know he’s out there somewhere, but we only have a rough direction and there’s dozens of small islands. The only way to find him is to send a ship to the area to pick up the signal locally.”

  “Well at least we can be pretty sure he’s alive,” said the Chief, “Although he could be quite close the China, which is less good news.”

  “Absolutely,” said the Chief of Staff, “I’ve no doubt they’ll have his exact location by now. I just hope they don’t decide to seize this opportunity to take him and use this against us.”

  The Chief of Staff and the Chief continued discussing their options and even started to explore the possibility of diverting a radio satellite. Then, completely be surprise, the SIS Duty Officer for London, who was responsible for handling phone calls or emails from the public, called the Chief of Staff on his mobile, “Sir, we have an email that I believe you should see. I don’t know what it is referring to, but it sounds important.”

  The Chief of Staff said, “I’m in the Operations Room with the Chief – bring it here.”