Mark Midway Box Set: Mark One, Mark Two, Mark Three, and Mark Four

by John Hindmarsh

  The man stepped into a lighted area. Mark fired. The bullet hit the man’s weapon and a bullet exploded. Cursing, the man fell backwards. Mark waited. The bullet’s impact at least had discouraged the stranger even if it hadn’t injured him. Patience, Mark cautioned himself. Time moved ever so slowly. Minutes passed. The mix of light and shadows created a hallucinogenic effect. Shadows moved. Some regressed, some came forward. The body of the second man was half in light and half in shadow. Mark looked again. The body now was all in shadow. Mark aimed and fired.

  The man cursed and clutched at his leg. Mark fired again. The man called out, presumably to a companion. There was no reply. The injured man cursed again; his voice contained a sob. The gunshot wounds, Mark assumed, were painful.

  A sound, a soft slide of a step across loose crumbled concrete, alerted Mark. He spun around and fired; his reaction was instinctive, the shot not consciously aimed. Twenty feet away a man dropped to the ground, his weapon clattering as he fell. That was three, Mark thought. How many more were there? He had fired five shots. There was one left in this magazine. He released the magazine and replaced it with one of the spares.

  A shout from the other end of the CHU drew his attention. There was a scream and a sound of a scuffle. A voice called out. “Hey, we have the woman. Come here or we’ll kill her.”

  Mark shrugged. He wondered how they had enticed Emma to exit her office. He decided he could take advantage of the situation and slowly moved back towards the container. He reached the corner and, cautiously, peered around. An overhead light illuminated the area around the entrance to the CHU. A man held Emma; his pistol was pressed against her temple. Mark wondered if he realized a shot from that position would probably backfire, wounding the shooter, too.

  He stood and walked out into the light, his pistol down by his side. His movement alerted the gunman. Mark knew he was taking a risk; however, he thought the odds were with him, that this man was the sole survivor.

  “You want me?” he asked as he kept walking towards the man who was trying to hold the struggling Emma.

  “Yes.” The stranger turned, using the psychologist as a protective barrier. Mark could not see her face because of the poor lighting but assumed she was frightened—unless he was being set up. He kept walking.

  “Stop!” the man shouted, waving his pistol towards Mark. “That’s close enough.” Mark couldn’t place the man’s accent—foreign, he thought, not American.

  Mark slowed his pace.

  The man aimed his weapon at Mark. His left arm was around Emma’s neck; her struggles were fruitless, causing only minor distractions.

  “Drop your weapon.”

  Mark raised the small Glock and looked at it. “You mean this?”

  “Of course I fuckin’ mean your gun. Drop it.”

  Mark snapped his arm up and fired two shots. Two bodies fell to the black top. The gunman’s legs twitched and stilled. Emma looked up at him with unseeing eyes. Mark ignored the accusatory expression now frozen on her face. He searched the man for a cell phone. He found two—one was a flip top, presumably a burner and disposable, while the second was a more typical flat cell phone.

  He checked. The burner switched on without a pass code. The second phone required entry of a numeric code. He tried all zeroes. Nothing. He tried all nines. The code worked. He shook his head—the lack of security indicated the quality of the group trying to extract him from the CHU.

  He checked the time—it was three in the morning. Either too late or early to call. He could wait, he thought. He looked around. The building was old, poorly lit, and as far as he could see, held nothing other than containers. It would be imprudent to wait here, with four dead bodies and an injured man near the office unit. Presumably his attackers had dealt with any watchman or security for the building. Possibly there would be a shift change later in the morning, probably at 6:00 a.m., when all hell would likely break loose.

  Mark heard a scuffle and realized he had not checked on the man whom he had shot in the leg. He checked the area in front of the CHU and found no one. He moved, with extra caution, towards where the shadows had earlier hidden the wounded man. There, against the steel beam. Mark raised his pistol and fired. The man collapsed, soundlessly, and his legs jerked for a few seconds and then stilled.

  He had no idea of where he was. Linda Schöner’s people would track the location of cell phone, if he used it to call Maeve. He was prepared to wait—as long as it wasn’t for too long.

  ###

  Mark explained later to Maeve. Agent Gordon, the senior FBI agent in charge of his rescue team, had telephoned to report once they had extracted him from the warehouse. Gordon had handed her phone over to Mark after providing an update to Maeve. The FBI team had avoided the local police who seemed perplexed by the entire affair; at least, based on their radio traffic, which the FBI team had been following.

  He said, “I walked to the other end of the warehouse building, where there was an old deserted office in a corner. The door was unlocked. As far as I could tell it seemed unoccupied and unused. I blocked the door with a broken chair and lay down on the floor. I couldn’t help it—I fell asleep. I’m still weak, I suppose. Anyway, I woke to all kinds of noise and activity. I assumed the warehouse security people, after discovering the bodies, had called the police. That’s when I called your office.”

  Maeve said, “Linda’s team enjoyed the challenge of locating you. They tracked the cell phone you used to call me. They located the local cell tower without difficulty; however, there are ten or more warehouses and acres of stacked containers in that facility. That’s when we decided to deploy FBI agents. We couldn’t take a risk that the local police might treat you as armed and dangerous.”

  “Which I probably was.”

  “Undoubtedly. We’ve been monitoring their cell phone and radio traffic. Apparently the in-house security management are somewhat embarrassed at the discovery of the CHUs set up by O’Hare. He had bribed a number of their people to look the other way. He had four container units in place, so he was planning for more than your kidnap.”

  “Naming the unit Gitmo was a stroke of genius.”

  “I agree. We need to talk more, but not by cell phone. I’m in transit to Newark airport. You’re not far away from there. Are you up to meeting with me for more discussions? We can talk on the way to Boston. I’m sure Anna wants to see you as soon as possible. I have a lot to cover.”

  Intrigued, Mark replied, “Of course. As long as we’re heading to Boston. I’ll call Anna and tell her to expect us. If you can follow-up and let her know our arrival time?”

  “I will. Now hand me back to Agent Gordon; I’ll give her a time and place to meet up. In the meantime, she can organize breakfast for you.”

  “Oh, I need more than that—a shower and clean clothes and possibly a shave. Do I have time for all that?”

  “Yes, there should be time. Pass the phone over and I’ll arrange it all.”

  Maeve, via Agent Gordon, funded his quick shopping expedition, after which he checked into a small hotel where he was able to shower and change. He also shaved. Refreshed, he ate two breakfasts while he and Agent Gordon waited for Maeve’s arrival.

  Chapter 43

  It was a family gathering, thought Mark, as he sat down to dinner. It was a day after his escape from the container unit and he was feeling relaxed. Anna sat next to him, jumping up every so often to bring out more dishes for their meal. The three Welsh teenagers were on one side of the table and Gabrielle, Niland, and Alex sat opposite them, while Ladder was at the end. An interesting group and full of potential and challenge. He had shaved and showered three times through the day; his urge to be clean was compulsive. He knew he had not fully recovered physically. Mentally? He shrugged.

  He’d spent some time with both Maeve and Linda describing his torture yesterday as they drove to Boston, which refreshed memories he did not enjoy. It was bad enough to experience the pain and degradation the first time, without having
to re-live the details. They had also brought him up to date with their activities, including their explanation of why the psychologist was immune to his influence, an analysis he found alarming. Someone in Cerberus had stolen vaccine for O’Hare, who had used it to treat Emma. As a result, she was able to resist Mark’s mental pressures. There were still issues to resolve, he realized.

  He owed Ladder—no, he owed all of them. Somehow, they had each participated in or were involved in his rescue. They now needed to return to some degree of normalcy; at least he did, and he suspected Anna did, too. He was unsure what could be defined as normal, given their different backgrounds.

  Anna returned from the kitchen and seated herself beside him.

  “You’re looking serious?” she said.

  Mark nodded.

  “Thinking.”

  He looked at Lewis. “How did you get out of school? It’s not vacation time? Will I get fined or something?”

  The three Welsh teenagers looked at each other. Lewis nudged Owen and said, “You’re the eldest, you tell him.”

  “By two minutes. Unfair.”

  Carys said, “You are the eldest. I’m the youngest, so you need to protect me. Besides, it was you—” She nodded her head instead of completing the sentence.

  Owen said, “Ah—Mark, we promised a donation to the school.” Cerberus UK had taken over the old building in London where the three siblings lived, and the organization provided housekeeping and security. Mark paid their school fees.

  “Can we take it out of your allowance?” Mark asked.

  Owen paled. “Um—no, I don’t think so. It’s too much for that.”

  Anna innocently said, “Why, how much is it?”

  Owen tried to speak but couldn’t find his voice. Lewis put his hand over his mouth. Carys looked at her two brothers and said, “You’re both supposed to protect me.”

  Mark, hiding his amusement, said, “Come on, Owen. You’re the oldest.”

  Lewis laughed. Carys looked at her older brother and patted his shoulder.

  Owen swallowed and said, “Fif—fifty thousand pounds.”

  Everyone around the table stared in shock at the three siblings. Mark gasped and said, “That’s sixty, seventy thousand dollars. For letting you take time out of school?”

  Anna said, “Surely that can’t be right?”

  Lewis said, “Well, no, not only for time away.”

  “It’s to repair the lab. One of their experiments blew it up. There.” Carys looked at her two brothers in turn. “That’s the way to do it.”

  “Totes emoshe,” Mark said.

  Half the group burst into laughter while Anna, Alex and Ladder looked bewildered. The three Welsh teenagers wore embarrassed expressions while trying to hold back their laughter.

  Owen said, “I—I think you won that, Mark. But it really was an accident.”

  Lewis commented, “Yes, someone misread the formula. We were lucky—”

  “To only lose our eyebrows,” finished Owen.

  Carys added, “I looked odd for a month, until mine grew back.”

  Mark shared a wry look with Anna. “What do you think? Do we cast them out into the cold?”

  “I think not.” She reached for Mark’s hand. “They brought the British Army here to rescue you, so they can’t be all bad.” The three British officers had decided to go sightseeing and weren’t expected back for another hour or so.

  “There is that. All right. This once, I’ll agree to donate to the school.”

  Lewis, Owen and Carys sat back in their chairs. They were holding hands. Carys said, “Mark, we thank you, all of us. If ever you need rescuing again, I’m sure Lewis and Owen will lead the way.”

  Mark realized Ladder was probably wondering what all the discussion was about. “Ladder, when we were in London, my sister introduced Anna and me to these three rebels. We offered to support them through school and university. It seems they have issues reading directions, thus the need to repay their school.”

  Ladder grinned. “Thank you. I thought I’d caught the wrong train somewhere. Are you planning to go to London?”

  “Ah. An interesting question. Anna, my dear, what say you?”

  Owen and Lewis said, “London.” Carys nodded her head, watching Mark.

  Gabrielle and Niland added, in unison, “You have responsibilities with Cerberus UK.”

  Anna waited for a moment and asked, “What do you all vote?”

  Alex said, her voice tiny, “London, only if Ladder comes too.”

  Everyone looked at Alex.

  She said, “He helped. He knocked out one of the terrorists. And he read your code, even if it was a red herring.”

  “Doesn’t Ladder live in Redmont?” Mark asked.

  “Yes, Mark, I do. But—” He looked around the table, at all the faces looking back at him. “I—I’d enjoy England, I think. I’ve heard their universities are good. I want to study a challenging course. I don’t know how I’d pay my way, though.”

  “That’s it. Ladder comes too.” Alex decided.

  Anna said, “What’s the vote?”

  She listened to the shouts and turned to Mark.

  “We all say London. What do you want?”

  “London, of course. Well, to be correct, Bankton House, in East Sussex. It’s not that far from London.”

  “You’ll sell the property at Redmont?” Anna asked.

  “Damn, I haven’t spoken to the architect. Yes, we’ll sell the land. I’d like to keep this apartment, though.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. Mark said, “That must be Schmidt. He said he might visit.”

  The visitors were Schmidt and Maeve. Linda had returned to Washington in the late afternoon. The general had received his medical clearance for his return to duty and had brought a bottle of champagne to celebrate. Maeve and Schmidt joined in the London conversation.

  “You’re taking Ladder?” Schmidt asked.

  Alex was firm. “Yes, we are. I know, he’s too old to be my boyfriend, so he’s now my big brother. Mark said he’s always wanted a family, and I think he has one now, even though we’re a chaotic mix.”

  “Well, if you ever want to join us, Ladder, you’re welcome,” Maeve said. “We were all impressed—Linda’s team and my people.” She paused. “By the way, I never did find out why you’re called Ladder?”

  Alex burst into laughter, Ladder’s face turned red, and there was a mix of laughs and questions.

  Ladder said, “No, only Alex knows.”

  The lighthearted conversation was interrupted by the buzz of Mark’s cell phone. The caller ID was for the ground floor security desk.

  “This is Mark.” He held his hand up to quieten the group.

  “Four visitors? Captain Hudson and her two sergeants and a friend? Can you repeat that? It’s noisy here. Yes, they can come up to my apartment.”

  He caught Schmidt’s attention as he disconnected the call. “We have an issue. Three people went out, four are returning. Hudson should simply have returned to your apartment. Also, the ranks are incorrect.”

  Schmidt reacted. “Everybody except Mark.” He pulled his apartment key from his pocket. “Head down the fire escape to my apartment. Stay there until we say it’s okay to return. Quickly.”

  The apartment was cleared in seconds. Mark and Schmidt sat in the study, waiting. Both were armed. Mark did not comment when he realized Maeve had not joined the group heading to Schmidt’s apartment. He didn’t know where she was.

  “We’ll know in a minute or two,” Mark said. “Any thoughts as to the extra person?”

  “No, none at all. Someone looking for you? For me?” Schmidt shrugged. “Waiting is a curse.”

  The door buzzer interrupted their discussion. Mark released the lock and stood back, out of the way of the opening door. Schmidt remained in the study, handgun drawn. Colonel Hudson entered the apartment first; she was trying to signal, her expression full of alarm. She was followed by Thomas. Laur
a and the fourth person came in last; the newcomer was holding the lieutenant’s arm. With a start, Mark recognized his kidnapper.

  “O’Hare!” He spoke loudly, warning Schmidt. “We thought you’d been caught in the explosion that took out the Saudi spy—Dr. Chaborz.”

  “I’m not that easily defeated.” O’Hare’s face was partially bandaged. He pushed Laura away and she stumbled and nearly fell. Thomas steadied her.

  Laura said, “He’s badly burned and suffering pain. I—I can feel his agony.”

  O’Hare ignored the comment. He said, “Shut up. Move away from the door—all of you.”

  Evelyn said, “I’m sorry, Mark. He latched onto Laura and we couldn’t risk her life.”

  “Stay where I can see you all or I will shoot someone. Where’s a room we can use?”

  “There’s a study,” suggested Mark. “It’s quite large.” He pointed. “It’s through there.”

  “Hudson, you first. Then you, boy, whatever your name is. You—” He motioned at Mark using his handgun as a pointer. “Follow them. Laura, my dear girl—keep in front of me. Come on, walk.”

  There was a second door to the study and Mark wondered how Schmidt was going to handle the likely ambush. He hoped the general would come around behind O’Hare—that would give everyone an opportunity to escape O’Hare if he started shooting. He thought the man looked forbidding, angry. He wondered at his sanity.

  “All right—sit down. We’re going to get Schmidt here. I know he’s somewhere in Boston. You, Midway.”

  “Yes?” Mark replied.

  “You call him. Ask him to come here. Tell him it’s urgent. Don’t say why. Then I’ll have both of you.”

  Schmidt’s voice startled O’Hare. “Why call me? I’m right here.”

  O’Hare spun around, forgetting his need to keep Linda under threat. Two shots blasted simultaneously. O’Hare’s body crumpled to the ground. Seconds later, Schmidt also collapsed, his unfired weapon sliding across the floor. Mark checked O’Hare. The shot had hit his left temple; his death probably immediate.