The Words of Their Roaring

by Matthew Smith

Hendricks studied him for a second. "It's the only place we know where they could've gone," he replied finally. "They don't want her particularly, they just want to use her as a bargaining chip to get Harry to start cutting them a slice of his manor's action. So far Harry hasn't shown a weakness that they've been able to exploit, but tonight they're holding a trump card. Our only hope is that they don't expect him to come to them like this, mob-handed. They're banking on him seeking to appease them, not matching them strength for strength. It's a risky strategy, of course - Anna's life is at stake." He paused, then said: "You've really put him in a delicate situation."

  Gabe nodded slowly. "I know."

  Hendricks turned to face him. "This relationship with his daughter, it compromises an awful lot. We're going to have be very careful going in. What did you think you were doing?"

  "She was a mystery, a face at the window. She looked like she needed a friend. I felt like I wouldn't be able to relax until I spoke to her, until I... solved the mystery." Gabe smiled ruefully. "I think I underestimated even that. She wasn't going to open up that easily."

  "But was it worth it? You've incurred Harry's wrath, put his kid in the hands of the enemy, potentially undermined his power base if tonight doesn't go his way. If she gets hurt, it's going to get even worse, and I wouldn't want to be in your shoes. All this 'cause you couldn't leave things alone."

  "If I knew that I was putting her in danger, then of course I would've stayed away. I'm not so selfish that I would purposely put her in the firing line. I thought I was giving her company. I never imagined that it would have consequences of this magnitude."

  "Well, that's all it takes, son," Hendricks answered, peering out through the glass at the empty London streets. "One act and the repercussions ripple outwards. Everyone gets caught in them." The car started to slow, pulling in to the kerb. "Looks like we're here."

  It came to a halt behind the lead vehicle, out of which Flowers' men were already unfolding themselves, the old man included. They stood on the pavement, casting glances up and down the road, pulling their coats around them, before fixing their attention on the building opposite. Gabe alighted from his own car and followed their gaze: it was an innocuous frontage to a club, little more than a narrow doorway squeezed between a motorbike dealership and a snooker hall. There was no name announcing itself above the entrance.

  Harry nodded at his men, then motioned for them to follow. They strode across the street as one body, as if part of the darkness had suddenly come alive and was sweeping towards a specific destination. Flowers reached the threshold and a bouncer - shaven headed, bulky, biker's beard - emerged from the shadows just inside, blocking the passage. The thud of music could be heard drifting up from some cavernous place below them.

  "Help you, gents?" he said.

  "Here to see Goran," Harry replied, already trying to move past. "I imagine he's expecting us."

  The doorman took a cursory look at the fifteen-strong gathering stood before the club and shook his head. "I don't think so." There was a slight accent to his voice that meant each word was clipped.

  "Oh, you don't think so?" Harry asked and pulled his snubnose from his belt with one movement, then shot him in the kneecap. The bouncer went down like a felled tree, the crack of the gun muffled by the noise emanating from inside. When the guy started to yell - a mixture of pain and a call for help, Gabe guessed - the old man struck him against the bridge of the nose with the flat of the revolver. He went quiet then. "Don't see much point in being subtle about this," Flowers murmured, then added: "Gandry, Miller - stay on the door. No one gets past you, understand? Oh, and disable the alarm system, phone line and the CCTV cameras."

  The two men nodded. Flowers beckoned for the rest to come with him into the bowels of the building. They walked down a short corridor, the music growing louder, past a ticket booth, the woman inside watching them nervously, slipping off her stool and backing away when Hendricks halted and rested his gun barrel against the grille. He raised his eyebrows and instructed her to lace her hands above her head and not to move a muscle. There were four more security personnel loitering in this area who jumped to their feet the moment that Harry strode into view, and who hit the ground just as quickly when he put a bullet through each of their thighs. They mutely rolled on their backs, their groans swallowed by the thumping bass.

  "Stick them in there with her," Harry said to another three of his men, motioning to the booth, "and keep an eye on them. Any trouble, start working your way through their limbs." He turned to the rest. "I want this place locked down. We're in charge now - any nosy bastard starts poking around, asking questions or wants to leave, make an example of him. The last thing I want is a 999 call going out. From now until the moment we leave, this building is under our control. Once we get to the dancefloor level," he swept a hand towards the steep stairs that disappeared into a swirl of magenta and emerald lights, flickering to the pulse of the music, "you're going to spread yourselves amongst the crowd and contain it. The bouncers are going to notice you, but make your weapons known to them. If you can, take them out of commission altogether. From what I understand, Vassily's office is on the other side, next to the DJ booth. I'll be heading over there, and I want to make sure there's not going to be a riot getting in my way. OK?" His question was answered with silent confirmation. "OK. Let's go."

  The remaining ten, with Harry at the head, picked their way down the steps and into the club proper. It was a horseshoe-shaped room, ringed by a bar on a raised area around which stood tables and stools. In the centre was the dancefloor itself. It was a dark mass of moving bodies. The roving lights would occasionally capture a face or an arm held aloft, but then they would be gone again, reduced to silhouette. There were more figures standing around the rim watching and drinking, but none seemed to have paid the new arrivals any heed. Flowers nodded and made a casual gesture with his hand, motioning left and right, and portions of the group peeled off, zeroing in on the bulky shadows that were undoubtedly the security staff, wordlessly encircling the space. The old man beckoned for Gabe to come with him and they pushed their way into the crowd, gathering glances from quizzical clubbers, who parted without question for the two men who weaved their way through them, seemingly oblivious to the music. Something about their demeanour told the dancers not to get in their way.

  To the right of the stage that the pounding sound system was built upon was a door marked AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY and Flowers headed towards it, looking back only once over his shoulder to confirm that Gabe was still behind him, and that the gyrating mob was concealing their progress. He put a shoulder to the door and shoved his way in, Gabe following closely in his wake.

  After the darkness of the dancefloor, the fluorescent-bathed corridor on the other side caused them to squint momentarily, and the noise level reduced instantly to a low-level throb. To the left and a few feet ahead was a large open section, containing a desk, computer and several filing cabinets. A man was leaning against a worktop with his back to them, writing hurriedly on a document.

  "You get those orders sorted?" he called, without looking around.

  When there was no response, he cocked an eye over his shoulder, frowned, then his eyes widened when Harry walked towards him, gun pointed at the man's face. He turned fully, dropping the pen.

  "Where is she?" Flowers growled.

  "Who the fuck are you?" the man spat, bravado failing to disguise his fear. "What are you talking about?"

  "Unwise," Flowers said, and smacked him once in the temple with the revolver handle. The man gasped and staggered, blood trickling down his forehead from a gash. "Stall me again and I'll put a bullet through your eye. Last time: where is she?"

  The man locked stares with Harry, red drips coursing off his eyebrow. "Goran's got her... in the back." He nodded behind him.

  "I hope for your sake no one's touched her."

  "She's still in one piece. Just about." He smiled. "For how long, though, I couldn't say. Once Goran finds Papa'
s here he might reach the limit of his benevolence."

  "If he knows anything about me, then he'd have to be insane. Or suicidal."

  "Funny. Your daughter said something similar about you—"

  The man jerked as Flowers fired a bullet into his skull, collapsing into a heap at the old man's feet. Gabe jumped, the roar of the gun blast resonating in the spacious office. Harry didn't even pause, merely strode further down the corridor. The building this far back looked skeletal, as if it had been left half finished; exposed beams and wiring ran across the ceiling, and the bare floor and walls were plain concrete. There was little need to be surreptitious - Harry had all but announced himself, and a pair of Vashsily's goons stepped forward ahead of their boss, who lingered beside a sofa. Anna was seated upon it, seemingly unharmed, her wrists and ankles unbound. She didn't appear scared, more resigned, as if this situation was inevitable.

  "Nice place you've got here, Goran," Flowers said. "Love what you've done with it."

  "You know I've never indulged in ostentation like you, Harry," Vassily replied. He was of a similar age to Flowers, and cut from the same cloth: a weathered exterior that bore the weight of a lifetime's experience.

  "That why you're so keen to get your hands on what I've got? Envious?"

  "I don't want everything, Harry. I just think a little competition could excite our profits a tad. We've known each other for so long, we've tolerated each other for decades now, we're in danger of growing stagnant and complacent. It never hurts to give the natural process of things a shove."

  "So kidnapping's progress, is it?"

  Vassily smiled. "Ah, you're just pissed you didn't get there first. Unfortunately for you, my son is abroad."

  "I'd say that he was the fortunate one. This way, he doesn't get to see me execute his old man."

  Vassily's triggermen bristled, their guns raised, and Gabe felt his grip tightening around his semi-automatic. His gaze kept returning to Anna, but she - deliberately, he thought - studiously avoided making eye contact. He turned his attention instead to the exchange between the two bosses, trying to remain sensitive to the shifting levels of tension.

  "Don't take it so personally, Harry," Vassily was saying. "It's all about gaining the advantage in this business, is it not? You have my word that not a hair on her pretty head has been harmed, and if we're all amicable, there's no reason why we won't all come away with what we want."

  "You think I'm here to negotiate?"

  "I don't see how you're in a position not to."

  "Because there's over a dozen of my men stationed around your club right now, and all it takes is one word from me and they'll burn it and everyone inside to the fucking ground."

  "You're not that ruthless. You were never one for collateral damage."

  "Let's just say you've caught me in a particularly bad mood."

  Vassily paused, looking first at Flowers, then at Anna and back again. "You'd commit mass murder for her sake? You'd kill innocent people rather than lose an inch of territory?"

  "I'd slaughter you all because you involved my daughter. My terms are simple: return her now, and maybe I'll be lenient."

  "Quite the family man these days, aren't you, Harry? It must've been hard losing your wife. What was it - an accidental overdose? Or at least, that was the official line." Gabe caught the sudden glance Anna gave her father. "I can imagine that must've strengthened the bond between you and your little girl."

  "Goran, you're about five seconds away from meeting your maker," Flowers replied, anger flooding his voice, "so I suggest you shut the fuck up and tell your boys to lower their cannons."

  Vassily continued speaking as if he hadn't heard. "Which makes what you did to her," he nodded at Flowers' daughter, "so particularly... callous."

  Anna stood suddenly, glaring questioningly at her father, who glanced at her for the first time since they'd arrived. Vassily's two enforcers shifted their position, unsure at this development, keeping an eye on both of them. Gabe's thumb found the safety catch and eased it slowly off.

  "Don't listen to him," Flowers said dismissively.

  "What are you talking about?" Anna demanded of her captor.

  "Oh, I'm sure it's just rumour and innuendo, my dear," Vassily said with mock modesty. "One of those stories you hear on the grapevine that knocks you back and makes you realise whether you really know a person."

  "Goran—" Flowers snarled.

  Anna: "Tell me."

  Vassily faced her. "Your own child, Anna. The baby boy you gave birth to. Harry convinced you to put him up for adoption; took advantage of your fragile state as you suffered a particularly nasty period of post-natal depression. He claimed he didn't like the crew the father ran with, thought it would compromise his position. And while this may have certainly been the case - the guy was dropped off a flyover eight months later - the truth is that he always feared having an heir, a grandson that could prove a threat to him. That could undermine his power. So he took... pre-emptive action."

  Gabe followed this exchange feeling like an eavesdropper on a family argument. He watched Anna's face intently. This was clearly news to her, and something suggested her world was about to be swept out from under her feet. Tears were welling in her eyes.

  "He took your son, Anna," Vassily continued, "and he murdered him. Smothered him in his own blanket. Even if he put him up for adoption, there was always the fear that he would come to discover his heritage, and seek to claim it. This way, he could sleep easy."

  Anna turned to Flowers, her cheeks glistening. "Why? How could you do this?"

  "Anna, please..."

  "You're not denying it, are you?"

  Flowers looked more vulnerable than Gabe had ever seen him. "Sweetheart, I've tortured myself every day and night since, and I'll go to hell for it. Sleep easy? I will never, ever forgive myself for what I did, and I've tried to make it up to you. But there are no excuses."

  "I don't understand how you could be so heartless," Anna sobbed. "Why did you do it?"

  "Your child... was a weak link I couldn't control." Harry sniffed back his own tears. "I was wrong, I know. I should've embraced the life he brought, I should've let it steer me. But then... change was bad. I couldn't accept it."

  "And there was me thinking you weren't open to negotiation," Vassily snickered.

  Flowers glared at the other man, fury burning in his red-rimmed eyes. "You fucker." He raised his gun, but in that instant Vassily pulled Anna close and tugged free a revolver of his own from beneath his jacket, holding it to her waist.

  "I don't think so, Harry," he said. "I realise this has all been very traumatic for the pair of you, but there's still a few more truths to be hammered home. It's time you recognised that you're in no position to refuse me anything. It's time we ought to discuss how we divide your empire."

  "Never."

  "I'm sorry, there was me believing you had a choice in the matter." He nudged the barrel harder into her body, though Anna looked as if she barely noticed it. She stared at her feet, numb with shock. Gabe licked his dry lips, eyes flicking between each of the people in the sparse room, head buzzing with adrenaline. "You've already destroyed whatever relationship you had with your daughter, don't go one step further and have her blood on your hands too."

  "I won't give you anything." His gun remained where it was, unwavering.

  Vassily shook his head. "What makes you think you've got the strength to deny me?"

  Flowers didn't reply. A second later he fired, the bullet slamming into Anna's chest, knocking her to one side. Vassily was momentarily stunned as he looked down to see the hole in his midriff where the slug had passed through his hostage and penetrated him. Flowers fired again, pumping a further four rounds into the man's midriff. Vassily's goons returned fire, blasting Harry in the arm and stomach, dropping him to the ground.

  "Harry!" Gabe shouted, swinging his own weapon to bear and pulling the trigger. The recoil punched hard into his hand, and his first shots went wild, but
he was standing at close enough distance to lower his angle and the two men took hits in the cheek and neck. They went down, spritzing blood.

  He hurried across to Anna and felt her pulse; it was there but weak. He turned to see Flowers crawling across towards them, painting a wide crimson streak in his wake.

  "Harry, she needs an ambulance urgently. I don't know if she's going to make it."

  "No," he whispered. "She comes back with us... back to the house... get the boys down here."

  Gabe didn't move. "She could die. You might have killed your daughter."

  Flowers rolled onto his back. "Had to show... no weaknesses." He coughed. "Tell the boys... light the fuses. We burn this place down...." He closed his eyes.

  "Harry?"

  "Bring it all down," he murmured, then lost consciousness.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It spread with frightening speed. Despite Gannon's successful attempts at getting the facility immediately locked down and ordering in MoD medics garbed in full hazard suits, he hadn't reckoned on HS-03's microbes travelling in the air. All previous experiments with the virus had seen it carried within a liquid, whether it be the serum in which it was injected into the test subjects, its transportation through the blood supply, or - so he theorised - passed from carrier to victim via the saliva, which entered the circulatory system from the bite wound. He had believed that contagion would require full-body contact, and some degree of penetration, similar to HIV, and as such any threat to the general public could be limited. If they isolated the dead and those that had received injuries, then there was no chance of it going beyond the compound. But he had underestimated the tenacity of the virus. Once the security guard's bullets had ripped through the lab, test tubes and containment vessels were shattered, and the bacteria escaped into the ventilation shafts, blown beyond the research centre's walls in a matter of seconds. Although he would not learn of the breach for several hours, there was little Gannon could've done to stop it, and indeed the facility was permeated with HS-03 by the time he came off the phone to the emergency services.