Scion

by Murray Mcdonald

  As the cabin doors opened, Clark switched on his cell phone to check his messages. Within seconds, the familiar ringtone told him he had voicemail. He dialled his service and listened as Walker informed him that a car would be waiting for them at the airport. Clark and Rosie, despite being the first passengers off the plane with no luggage, didn’t surface from the airport for another hour. Immigration control first thing on a Monday morning was not a pleasant experience. Every minute of queuing and delay enhancing Clark’s hatred for the ‘fucking Brits’.

  Clark spotted the Range Rover and directed Rosie to the waiting car. After brief introductions, Clark instructed Karl to get them to Cambridge as fast as he could. Safe in the car, he made a call that would make their day a little easier.

  “It’s me. Anything?” he asked.

  “Not a thing. We’ve not been able to find out how she knows him,” replied the Unit’s sniper in Washington.

  “Shit, keep trying, check every lead you can. I need to know how she knew him.”

  Clark snapped his phone shut in frustration. If they just knew how the real Rosie knew him, they could get the fake Rosie past the police and in to see him. From the telephone transcripts it was clear Scott had no idea who she was anyway.

  “No luck?” asked Rosie.

  “Unfortunately not.”

  “There’s still time. It’ll take us a couple of hours to get to Cambridge in this traffic.”

  “No it won’t,” interrupted Karl hitting the blue lights and turning them into an emergency vehicle. “It’ll be just over an hour.”

  ***

  Ashley’s hand immediately shot to the pain in her neck as she came round. She could feel a small lump and knew it was going to be a bitch of a bruise. The dart had thumped into her with a tremendous force. Looking around the small darkened room, she knew she was in a basement, the coldness of the stone leaving little doubt. A small blanket on the floor offered little protection from the cold and the hardness. A small staircase led up into the building but the manacle around her ankle ensured she wouldn’t be going anywhere near them. The only thing she was sure of was that it was still dark outside. A small window set high in the wall provided that information.

  The noise of a door unlocking drew her attention to the staircase. The footsteps became visible as a man quickly made his way towards her.

  “I see you woke up!” he said as he approached.

  Ashley remained silent and refused to allow the man eye contact as he stared at her.

  “Don’t worry you’ll tell us what we want to know. We can either get it the easy way…,” he smiled. “Or we can get it the fun way.” His eyes dropped and lingered on her body.

  “So let’s try the easy way first. How do you know the man in England, Rosie?”

  Ashley’s face tried desperately to remain dead pan while her mind raced. This was nothing to do with the Darius operation but they were calling her Rosie. So who the hell were these guys and what did they want to know about the man in England?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied fearfully. From the way the man was holding himself it was obvious he did not see Ashley as a threat.

  “I quote,” the man said taking a piece of paper from his pocket. “‘Can you just tell him I know who he is’. Well?”

  “Well what?” Jesus they had a transcript of her call. Who the hell were they?

  “Who the fuck is he and how do you know him?”

  “But I don’t know him.”

  “You said you did.”

  “I said I know who he is. I didn’t say I knew him.”

  “So who is he?”

  “A guy I recognised.”

  “From where?”

  “I’ve never seen him before!”

  “But you said you knew him?” he said angrily

  “Yes, I did.”

  “So you admit you knew him.”

  “No I said I knew him.”

  “FUCK!!” raged the man kicking the chair that sat next to him.

  Ashley had watched the man’s temper grow and felt sure he would lash out soon. As he turned slightly to kick out at the chair, she pushed forward with all her strength and outstretched her free leg. As she connected with the man’s standing knee, her leg was completely straight. The noise was sickening as the man’s knee, bearing his full weight, literally snapped, sending him crashing to the floor emitting an almighty scream of pain, unlike anything Ashley had ever heard before. As he hit the floor, his mind was only on one thing, stopping the unbelievable pain, he didn’t even notice Ashley’s leg before it was too late, the ankle crashed down on his larynx smashing amongst other things his voice box, instantly silencing his scream. As he gasped uselessly for air, Ashley was already searching through his pockets for the key to her manacle. Within seconds, she had not only secured the key but also the man’s SIG-Sauer P226 pistol.

  The door flew open and thundering footsteps announced the arrival of the man’s colleague. Obviously, he had also expected little threat from Ashley as he crashed down the stairs to see what had caused the screams.

  “We’re not supposed to kill her yet!” he shouted.

  The scene that met him at the bottom of the stairs was certainly not what he had expected. His friend and companion of over twenty years lay flat on his back, his body spasming in the final throws of death as it desperately tried to get oxygen. The girl who he thought was being tortured was in a classic shooter’s crouch with a pistol pointed directly at his head.

  “Fuck!!”

  “Yep,” said Ashley ominously. “Now who the fuck are you and what do you want?” she demanded.

  The sniper watched the final jerk of his best friend and caught Ashley’s eye. While her eyes were caught in his gaze he moved his hand towards his holstered gun. Being a trained sniper, he spent hours a day on the gun range perfecting his talent. A talent he believed should cover every weapon. As such, his proficiency with a pistol was second to none and that included the speed at which he could draw and hit a target. He often thought that had he been born in the days of the wild west, he would most definitely have been the ‘fastest gun in the west’.

  Ashley watched the man as he first looked at his colleague and then stared intently at her, his eyes were almost mesmerising, dark and lifeless. She had seen them before, many times in fact; you could always spot the snipers. The eyes always gave them away. As this flashed through her mind her body instantly reacted, snipers equalled death. Ashley subconsciously depressed the trigger, sending a bullet into the man’s right eye. A second shot rang out, the man’s already dead brain not able to stop the signal sent only a nano second earlier to pull the trigger of his own pistol. Fortunately by the time the bullet left the pistol his hand had dropped sending the bullet harmlessly towards the floor.

  Ashley fell back and saw the man fall to the ground, her heart beating at the sight of the pistol in the sniper’s hand. It hadn’t been there when he entered the basement. Had she not shot him when she had, she would be dead. The speed with which he brought the gun to bear was unbelievable. She had not taken her eyes off of the man other than for the spilt second she had looked into his eyes.

  Shaking herself into action, she listened out for more voices or foot steps. Hearing none, she slowly made her way to the top of the stairs and into the body of the house. A quick look around revealed no further threats and after ascertaining she was, to all intents and purposes, in the middle of nowhere, she relaxed. If anyone else was to arrive she’d hear them coming.

  A more thorough look around revealed no clue whatsoever as to whom she was dealing with. A rental receipt was made out to ‘Cash’, no name. The bodies in the basement revealed nothing about the two men other than they were almost certainly ex-military. Ashley slumped down in the chair in the lounge and tried to work out what she should do next. If what was happening had to do with her call to England, whoever she was up against was an extremely well connected and resourceful group. They had to be. Otherwise,
she had no idea how they could know what she had said on the phone nor would there be two dead ex-soldiers in the basement. Knowing that whatever she was up against was going to be more than she could handle on her own, she picked up the phone. It was time to call in.

  Chapter 18

  Scott insisted they drive via his accommodation block before going to London. He wanted his own clothes. As Kelly waited in the car, Harris escorted Scott into the Wolfson building, the accommodation block for Trinity College and directed him towards the crime scene. The yellow ‘police line, do not cross’ tape covered the doorway. Harris moved towards the tape and began to take it down.

  “What are you doing?” asked Scott.

  “Going to your room!” replied a confused Harris.

  “But that’s not my room, it’s the one three doors down.” Scott pointed further down the corridor.

  They walked down the corridor and minus his key, Scott shoulder-charged the door to gain entry. Harris noted the small room was almost identical to the crime scene, it too was clinically clean and devoid of any personal belongings except for a small case sitting in the centre of the room.

  “I hadn’t unpacked. In fact, I had only just arrived, when I went to grab something to eat at the pub,” said Scott in response to Harris’ confused look.

  Harris didn’t respond. He just walked back out into the hallway and tried to understand why the rapist had set Scott up in a room three doors away from his own. It just didn’t seem to make sense but for the first time since he arrested him, he actually believed Scott was innocent.

  Scott appeared back in the hallway two minutes later. The white t-shirt and blue jogging trousers supplied by the police had been replaced by a pair of jeans and clean white t-shirt. Scott nodded to Harris indicating he was ready to go. Two minutes later and an approving nod from Kelly, they were on their way to London.

  ***

  Walker was awakened by his phone ringing,

  “What?” he barked. It was 5.22 a.m. and he had only just managed to fall asleep.

  “Hi, is this a bad time? It’s Nugent from The Unit command centre.”

  “No, No, please it’s fine, what’s up?” Walker chastised himself for the barking.

  “You’re on my call list for any updates on a package in England.”

  “Yes?” prompted Walker eager to hear the news.

  “A call was placed a short while ago that suggested the package was to be moved. A satellite was immediately routed to the area and we’re currently tracking the package in transit to London.”

  “Excellent, I have a man on site, I’ll let him know.” Walker smiled, he knew he could trust Clark to make sure the problem was taken care of.

  “That won’t be necessary, a team has been authorised and is already en route,” replied Nugent firmly.

  Walker was taken somewhat off guard. He alone controlled The Unit’s resources. “But who authorised that?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say but if I were you, I’d make sure your man is kept well clear. This has don’t fuck with it written all over it,” warned Nugent.

  Walker knew of only five people who he would not be at liberty to know had authorised the action. Two of them he knew wouldn’t know how to contact The Unit. That left three and if one of them was getting involved personally, Walker’s days were numbered.

  “Thank you Nugent, I appreciate the heads-up,” offered a very nervous Walker hanging up the phone.

  Walker got up and packed an overnight bag. He had to get out the house. If he was right, the conference call had not ended when he hung up. Another decision had been made. William Walker III was to be punished for the Colonel’s failure. The men would not have known that there was a note on the system to update him with any info on the package.

  Walker knew he couldn’t run. The Unit had access to every police, military and intelligence system in the world. They’d track him to the ends of the earth with ease and he’d be dead within the week. The only option was to bargain his way out of the hole. He considered waking his wife, they’d most definitely take her out when they visited. She’d be his sacrifice, his punishment for the mistake. He was fed up with her anyway, they’d be doing him a favour. He stepped into her bedroom, they hadn’t shared a bed for over 15 years and said goodbye to her sleeping figure. Grabbing his bag he ran down to the front door and jumped into the nearest car, speeding away, wondering how long it would be before the assassins arrived.

  Once out of danger, he phoned Nugent back.

  “Hi, it’s Walker. I need the tracking code for the package.”

  “I’m sending it to you now,” replied Nugent.

  Walker immediately forwarded the code to Clark and called him, explaining what he wanted him to do.

  Clark looked down at the screen as Walker spoke, the aerial view of the car speeding through the English countryside seemed almost surreal. Clark hit a button and a map was overlaid onto the video picture telling him exactly where the car was. His PDA, fitted with GPS, then calculated exactly how far away the package was. As Walker finished speaking Clark’s mouth dropped open.

  “You want me to do what?!”

  Chapter 19

  Scott rested his head on the door pillar and tried to get some sleep. It was an hour to London and if he slept it would save the continuous questions from Kelly. He was sure she meant well but God, she went on a bit. Where was he from? Who was he? Why did the Prime Minister want to see him? Did he have any family?

  Until he knew what the hell was going on, Scott was saying nothing. He had been trying to work things out but nothing made sense. Framing him as a rapist and then trying to kill him in the cells didn’t link up. They could have just killed him instead of drugging him. The only conclusion was that they were separate; being framed for the rape was just a coincidence which alerted whoever wanted him dead as to where he was. But who wanted him dead? Who even knew who he was to go to the trouble of trying to kill him? And even then if they knew who he was, they would not have sent unarmed men to kill him. Even that didn’t make sense.

  Either he’d been set up and there was a leak or it was something else entirely. Whatever it was, he couldn’t do anything about it for the next hour and with Kelly quiet at last he began to doze.

  “What the fuck was that?” shouted Harris, swerving the car onto the hard shoulder of the motorway.

  Scott awoke the moment his body slid across the seat into Kelly’s; his eyes alert and trying to see what the problem was. It was his ears however that picked up the threat; the whump of the helicopters rotor blades evident through the roof of the car.

  “A helicopter just appeared from nowhere and flew straight at us,” explained Kelly, looking out of the window to try and see where it had gone.

  “It missed us by fucking inches,” screamed Harris from the driver’s seat, having pulled them back onto the main carriageway. He too was desperately searching the sky for the chopper.

  Scott looked out the back window and spotted the little chopper. It had swooped over their heads and was now doing a tight turn to come back at them. Scott recognised it instantly, a small chopper with two M134 Gatling guns and two sets of rocket pods. It was the very agile and extremely deadly AH-6J attack helicopter, a favourite of the US Army special forces and affectionately, if it was on your side, referred to as ‘little bird’.

  The first pass had obviously been a confirmation fly-by. Scott knew the second pass would not be so friendly. The Gatling guns were already spinning, a pre-cursor to their unleashing a deadly rain of 7.62mm projectiles at over 6,000 rounds per minute that would tear through the car like a hot knife through butter.

  “Oh shit!” exclaimed Scott. “They’re behind us, we need to get off this road NOW!”

  “It’s five miles to the next exit!” replied Harris his voice breaking. He could see the small chopper in the side mirrors.

  “Sod the exit just get off the road!” shouted Scott.

  At that moment all conversation ended. The roar
of the miniguns exploded into their ears as the chopper swooped towards them, the car behind them disappeared in a shroud of small explosions as the bullets tore through it before continuing on their relentless march towards them, gaining ground with every bullet.

  “Put your foot down!” screamed Kelly watching the road behind them being ripped apart.

  “It’s on the floor, already!” shouted Harris fully aware of the bullets tearing towards them.

  The car lurched as the first 7.62mm projectile destroyed the rear bumper, the next less than one hundredth of a second later disposed of the registration plate.

  “We’re dead,” screamed Kelly as the rear window exploded.

  ***

  Clark could only think that Walker was going mad but having worked for the man for twenty five years, he knew one certainty, with Walker nothing was ever as it seemed.

  “Can you stop here please Karl,” said Clark.

  “What, on the hard shoulder?” asked a rather mystified Karl.

  “Please.”

  As the car slowed and pulled to a stop, Clark stretched his seat belt as far as it would go. He then quickly placed it over Karl’s head and before Karl knew what was happening, he was fighting for his life.

  “Rosie, do you mind?” asked a huffing Clark, the younger and stronger Karl was proving a reluctant corpse.

  Rosie not knowing why Clark was doing what he was doing but knowing he was paying for her services, reached forward and delivered a sharp and deadly karate style blow to Karl’s throat. His fight ended as his body slumped forward.

  Clark knew they wouldn’t have long, stopping on the hard shoulder would mean a police response. He climbed into the front of the car and pushed the dead weight into the passenger seat before quickly pulling away. They had stopped for less than two minutes and thanks to the blacked out windows in the car, had elicited no response from passing traffic.