by Peter Hoole
Nightfall
Peter B. Hoole
Copyright © 2016 Peter B. Hoole
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 0995397406
ISBN 13: 9780995397408
For Amy
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter One
It had been hours since his world changed. The information he’d stumbled across had sent shivers down his spine.
Paul was a solid reporter. Up until that day, the biggest story he’d covered had been the Hawkins assassination. And up until the previous night, he’d thought it would remain that way. Hell, people were still talking about Lincoln and Booth almost one hundred and fifty years after it happened. And that was in a time before the internet, before smart phones and satellites. People would be talking about the death of John Hawkins long after Paul was gone.
Or so he’d thought.
What he had just discovered was bigger than that. What he’d found out was enough to change everything.
It would certainly mean his death if he was ever discovered to be the source of the information. There were some very powerful people who would be implicated once Paul broke the story - people who would surely stop at nothing to prevent the truth from getting out.
He was scared.
Although he’d covered his tracks, Paul was no secret agent, no spy. He hadn’t had training of any real significance, but when the occasion had called for it, he was able to sneak around. So he’d done what he thought was necessary.
He’d worn dark clothes. He’d made sure he kept his gaze lowered, so no security cameras caught clear vision of his face. He’d worn latex gloves, so no finger prints could be found. He’d slipped into the facility unobtrusively, and he was sure no one had seen him.
He’d been a little surprised by the lack of security, but he figured that was due to the remote location. While inside the complex, he’d managed to take a couple of photos and scan some documents.
While the photos were unnerving, what was written in the documents was beyond comprehension. He didn’t dare to stay too long, and after less than ten minutes, he’d made his way back to the motel where he was staying.
Right after he returned to the motel, he sent the pictures to Darcy, in Los Angeles. It had been several hours since then, and he still hadn’t heard back. With L.A. being more than half a day behind, time-wise, it would have been received by Darcy in the late afternoon. He thought he would have heard back from her by now. The fact that she had remained silent only exacerbated his nerves.
He would have left the small town earlier, but feared he would be noticed. So he’d decided to briefly lay-low in the small motel room. He planned to leave when he was certain he hadn’t been followed; when he was confident he could escape without detection.
As time passed, he’d grown steadily more comfortable that nobody had noticed his movements during his stay. He figured if someone was coming for him, they would have been there by that point.
Though he found the thought unsettling, he would need to venture out to the store to grab some supplies before he hit the road. He hadn’t eaten all day and now he was hungry – to the point of discomfort. The small town’s main store was only a block from the motel.
As he left the motel room, he realised the surrounding area was empty. Not unusual for a small town, he’d barely sighted anyone since he had arrived. The only interactions he’d experience were with the motel owner and the store clerk.
As he walked down the road to the store, the wind swept through his thinning brown hair. Paul had always been average. Brown hair, about five-foot-nine and a hundred and seventy-five pounds, he had always seen his averageness as an advantage – always able to fit into any crowd with ease. The only problems came when he actually wanted to be noticed – with the ladies.
Now that he had this story, he knew that, if he could manage to return home and break the story, this would no longer be an issue.
When he arrived at the store, it was as he’d expected - the place was empty, with only the short, frumpy middle-aged woman standing behind the counter. Something about her made him uneasy. Though friendly enough, she seemed distracted.
“You still here?” Her thick Australian accent was still unfamiliar to him.
“Mm hmm,” Paul replied, not wanting to get caught up in a conversation.
“We don’t get many people staying,” she continued “Can I help you find something?”
Paul, ignored her and proceeded down the neatly-stocked aisles. The woman wasn’t lying about the lack of people staying in the town. All the shelves looked untouched. They were neatly stacked with the usual convenience store products – toothpaste, breakfast cereals and soaps, but it was as though the store hadn’t ever been used by anyone, visitor or local.
“Don’t get many visitors, do you?” Paul asked the clerk, although the answer was obvious.
“Not usually, love,” she replied. “Only people we get around here are on their way somewhere else. Where you headin’?”
“Back to Sydney,” Paul said.
“Oh yeah... that’s right. Anyway, help yourself. Give us a shout when you’re right”.
The clerk left the counter and disappeared into the storeroom at the back of the store. Paul had a quick look around. While there was an abundance of items, there wasn’t an abundance of choice. Paul grabbed a couple of bottles of water and a sandwich, before he approached the counter and called out to the clerk.
When she reappeared, she seemed more relaxed. “That’ll be eighteen dollars sixty,” she announced.
Paul was aware that country prices in Australia were high, but he still wasn’t used to it. On any other day, he would have been outraged. Today, he was just happy to leave.
“Thanks,” Paul said, turning to
leave.
“No worries.”
Paul stepped out of the store, turning to head back to the motel. As he did, he noticed a man on the corner, standing between him and his motel room. The sight of the man caused him some concern.
Not wanting to take any risks, Paul turned in the other direction, hoping to swing around the back of the store and avoid the man. As he strode away, he sensed the man was following him. Paul turned around the corner of the store, hoping the man would continue walking down the street.
He didn’t.
The man turned down the same road. Paul kept walking, with more purpose in his step.
As the footsteps quickened behind him, Paul realised there was urgency in his shadow’s pace. To try and lose the man, Paul continued down the street. His nerves tensed further with each step. He came to a standstill, pretending as though he was about to cross the road. When he stopped, so did the footsteps behind him.
Paul didn’t know whether the man was still there, or if he’d hidden somewhere behind him. He decided against looking back, and continued down the street, hoping the next intersection would lead him back towards his motel room, and more importantly, his car.
The further he walked, the more his concern grew. When he paused, the man trailing him paused. When he walked, the footsteps could be heard distinctly coming from behind him.
The man wasn’t being subtle. It was as though his purpose was to frighten Paul into making a mistake.
Of course there’s someone there, Paul thought to himself. They wouldn’t let him walk around knowing what he knew. What he’d discovered would change the world, and the people who were behind it would stop at nothing to avoid the information being revealed.
Considering his options, Paul began to walk steadily faster, reacting to the speed of his pursuer rather than setting the pace. Paul threw the items he’d bought into a bin, preparing to run.
Find some people. Get to where they are. Get to your car.
Paul began to run, giving it all he had. Running as fast as his jeans and sneakers would let him.
He tried to remember the details from the map of the town he’d downloaded. Never having travelled there before – in fact, he hadn’t even heard of the place until a week ago – Paul only had a basic sense of where he was in relationship to the motel. And currently, he was not in a good position. Though surrounded by trees and bushland, outback towns provided very few places to hide in the streets.
Turning down another street, Paul saw an intersection and remembered it from the map. This will get me to the car, he thought.
He ran for the turn-off as fast as he could, his jacket now acting like a weight, seeming to hold him back. His breathing grew faster and deeper, and he couldn’t hear the sound of the footsteps any longer. Almost there, he thought, just keep going. I think you’ve lost him.
Paul came to the intersection and made a hasty left turn.
“Oh shit”, Paul muttered, breathing heavily. He’d turned directly into a dead-end; in the spot where he’d thought he would see his car, all Paul saw was a wooden fence.
Hoping he’d built up some distance between himself and his pursuer, Paul spun around to exit the blocked street.
“Don’t fucking move” the other man said breathlessly.
“An American?” Paul was startled to hear the familiar accent.
The man was much bigger than him. Paul, still trying to catch his breath, scanned the street, hoping there would be another option, some way he could escape from his current predicament.
“Put up your hands”, said the man. “Slowly”.
Not wanting to further rile his pursuer, Paul complied with the request. Not that it really mattered. The only things Paul had on his body to protect himself with were his phone and wallet.
“Who…” Paul began, still breathless, “who are you?”
Paul wasn’t certain why he asked, because he really didn’t care. He already knew why the man had been sent.
Standing about six foot tall, the man towered over Paul, his presence more than enough to intimidate. His physique also implied many months, even years of training. But the thing that stood out most to Paul was his eyes.
There was a burning anger, bordering on hatred, in the man’s eyes.
Paul had thought they’d send a professional, a hit-man. Someone who would chase him, catch him and kill him. But the man in front of him seemed anything but the quintessential killer. He was more… human. The emotion he displayed was of a man not used to killing. In fact, it was the one thing that gave Paul hope – hope that he may survive.
That concerned Paul even more. The man had not been chasing him because he was ‘following orders’. He had been chasing him for much more personal reasons.
“How dare you?” said the man.
“What do you mean?” Paul stammered, now a bit confused.
“The plan is there,” explained the man. “It has been in place since before we were born. How dare you think you can change any of it?”
Frozen, Paul could barely muster a response. “I… I… What can I say?”
“Say for what?”
“Wh… what do I have to do to stay alive?” Paul asked, the desperation apparent in his voice. He waited for a response for what seemed an eternity.
The man, his gun still firmly trained on Paul, finally responded. “We have been planning this for so long,” he began, his anger now palpable, “and you dare to try and take it all away. Why? So you could get a story? So you could be famous? You would take away my daughter’s life. My wife’s life? Just so you can sell a fucking story?”
Paul’s fear escalated. It seemed clear that these were going to be his last few moments. If only he could convince his captor to keep him alive. If only he could prove he wasn’t a threat.
“I didn’t get much…” Paul said, desperately, “I hardly saw anything!”
“Shut the fuck up. You’ve brought this on yourself.”
Without warning, two dark SUV’s pulled silently into the street behind the man. As they stopped, the doors opened and some people exited the vehicle.
One of the figures shone a flashlight at Paul. As the last of them exited the car, he spoke. “Well done Leon… Did you get his phone?”
“Not yet”, replied Leon, as the man came over to stand next to him.
“Go get it then,” ordered the man, apparently Leon’s superior. His English accent was clear, his words clipped.
Leon kept his gun trained on Paul, and moved steadily towards him.
“It’s in my back pocket,” Paul said, slowly turning his hips to give the man access.
Leon looked back, towards the group of four men who had gathered next to his superior. Paul followed his gaze. The men had produced guns of their own. Upon seeing this, Leon put his own gun away.
“Good. Well done Leon,” said the man, “Now grab the phone”.
Leon took the phone from Paul’s pocket, and handed it to the Englishman, who searched through the phone, poking and swiping at the screen. He obviously found what he was searching for and glanced up at Paul. “Did you send this to anyone?” he asked.
Paul got the impression the man already knew the answer, but sensed a way of escaping his current, precarious situation.
“Of course I did,” Paul replied. “I needed to have some insurance”
“Ahhh, Paul…” the Englishman said, surprising Paul with the knowledge that he knew his name. “Don’t get your hopes up. You will die tonight.”
Ice flowed through Paul’s veins. “If you let me go, I’ll tell you who I sent it to…” Paul pleaded.
“Thank You Paul. A very nice gesture…” the Englishman paused, “but I think we can find Darcy on our own”.
Fear was the only emotion Paul now knew. “Help Me!” Paul cried out. “Somebody please help!”
The Englishman let out a loud, booming laugh.
“Paul… just calm down. No one can hear you,” he said. “Or rather, people can hear you… they j
ust don’t care.”
Paul looked out into the street, and to his mounting horror, he saw the motel owner and the store clerk both standing behind the Englishman, guns drawn and pointed at Paul.
“Paul, you look confused,” the Englishman began. “Do you really think you would have been here, if we didn’t allow you to be? Do you really think you could have gotten this close to our plan, without us knowing? You’ve got it all back to front. You remember what you saw last night, yeah? Below the surface?”
Paul nodded.
“We didn’t build that below the town… we built the town over that. Everything you see here. The store, the motel, the roads… even the people. It’s all ours. Paul, there is nowhere to run to.” The Englishman smiled, a cold smile which chilled Paul to the bone.
“Now?” Leon asked, drawing his gun again.
Paul was frozen. He knew exactly what Leon meant with that one word.
The Englishman turned to Leon, and paused, long enough for the sweat to trickle from Paul’s temple and down his cheek. “Now” he said, coldly.
With that, Leon pulled the trigger. A bright flash burst forth from the muzzle of Leon’s gun. A flash that would prove to be the last thing Paul ever saw.
Paul’s limp body slumped to the ground, blood spraying across the wall behind him. The bullet had hit him, straight between the eyes.
For a brief moment, the gathered men stood and stared at Paul’s fallen body.
“Well done, Leon,” the Englishman said. “That was a perfect take-down, start to finish.”
Leon beamed, having spent a lot of time training and waiting for his moment.
“You were patient, precise and most importantly, you didn’t hesitate when it mattered.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“No thank you is required Leon. You took a big step tonight.”
“Sir… does that mean we’re in? My family and I?”
The Englishman paused for a moment and turned to the others. “You three,” he announced, pointing to Paul’s body. “Clean that up”.
They moved in to do as they were told and the Englishman turned his attention back to Leon. “Not quite… there is one more thing I need you to do…”
“Anything!” Leon exclaimed.
