by Zoe Sharp
As soon as Gregor had taken Ivan off our hands, we turned and run back to Ronnie. Jan’s men were still firing after the limo. Shots seemed to be landing just about everywhere. Craddock and I piled ourselves over the top of the cook, shielding his body. Romundstad had grabbed a spare magazine out of his jacket and, with a strip of Ronnie’s shirt, turned it into a tourniquet. Ronnie was chewing through his bottom lip in an effort to stay quiet.
Gradually, the firing petered out, leaving a ringing in my ears. The drift of gun smoke left a dirty smell in the air. I sat up, risked raising my head. Craddock did the same and gave me a quick grin. I looked down. Romundstad had managed to stem the bleeding and Declan was holding Ronnie’s hand, telling him he was going to be fine, and this didn’t mean he was let off making our lunch.
My God, I thought. We’re actually a team.
Declan looked up and caught my eye. He gave me a brief nod of apology. I shrugged my acceptance. Nothing further needed to be said.
Gilby’s men moved out of cover then. Todd went to carefully prise Heidi away from Hofmann, sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her across to Gilby, uncaring of the blood. Figgis produced a medical kit, elbowed us aside and began patching up Ronnie’s leg more scientifically than we’d been able to.
The tension drained away from us, sapping the adrenaline that had kept us going with it. I got to my feet and staggered back, wiping Ronnie’s blood onto the legs of my jeans.
I saw Sean start in my direction, but Gilby waylaid him on his way across to me, shaking his hand, thanking him. I was glad of the respite. He had that head-ducked look about him, the one that said he was spoiling for a fight. I didn’t think I was quite up to a confrontation with him just yet.
At that moment, above us on the terrace, the French doors clattered wide open and Jan came stalking out, with four of her men behind her carrying MP5Ks. Jan herself was holding a HK nine-mil pistol, like the ones we’d seen in the little apartment in Berlin. I wondered vaguely what she’d done with the SIG she’d taken with her from the outdoor range.
The gun she’d used to callously shoot Elsa.
Jan had always had an air of underlying resentment about her, but now she was halfway to ballistic and she made a beeline for me.
“You!” she yelled at me, her thin sallow face made ugly by her anger. “How dare you interfere!”
“I made a promise,” I said. It was becoming a catchphrase.
Jan’s temper spilled over. She darted forwards and kicked my legs out from under me. If I hadn’t been so damned weary I probably could have done something about it, but as it was I went down as far as my knees. She jammed the barrel of the P7 under my jawbone and lifted my head back with it.
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with here,” she bit out. “I can disappear you, Fox, for what you’ve done today.”
I stared up into her eyes with my heart racing, but I wouldn’t flinch. “I know,” I said.
“That’s enough,” Sean said in that deadly quiet tone I knew so well. “Leave her alone.”
Without moving my body I flicked my eyes sideways to find that one of the SIGs was out in Sean’s hand and was aimed at Jan’s head. I hadn’t seen where he’d been carrying it. From the shimmer that ran through them, no one else had, either.
Sean was dog-tired, grey with exhaustion from the tension and the twelve hundred kilometre drive, but the security service agent must have seen the cool intent in his eyes. It cut through the layers, penetrated. She carefully took her gun away from under my chin.
At the same moment one of Jan’s men came forwards and planted the muzzle of his MP5K, almost leisurely, into the side of Sean’s neck. He may have hesitated over shooting us when we were unarmed and protecting Ivan, but I had no doubts at all that he was capable of pulling the trigger now.
Stand-off time.
There was a moment’s hesitation, then Sean sighed and surrendered the SIG. The man took it and stepped back away from him. I could almost feel the others’ relief that Sean had gone down without a fight. Even surrounded by armed opponents and utterly fatigued he’d still represented a serious threat. He just had that air about him.
Jan tucked the HK back into its speed-draw holster and moved in close, putting her face into Sean’s. “I’ll have the pleasure of dealing with you later,” she sneered.
She brusquely ordered Sean searched and cuffed, and Gilby’s men, too, just for good measure. Major Gilby handed over Heidi into Romundstad’s care and submitted to the restraint with quiet resignation.
Jan eyeballed him as the cuffs went on. “Not quite so superior now are we, Major?” she said, spitting out the last word. She stabbed a finger to her own chest. “At least I earned my rank, I didn’t cheat my way into it!”
Gilby eyed her calmly, but didn’t speak. His silence only seemed to inflame her further.
“I could have you shot here and now for your treachery, Gilby,” she said. That didn’t raise a response, either, even though Jan looked as though she was seriously considering such an act.
I climbed slowly to my feet. Two of Jan’s men were standing over me, but they didn’t make any attempts to keep me down. They were too busy eyeing their commanding officer with something approaching concern.
“I am taking command of this operation,” Hofmann said then, loudly, in German. “Major König, you are relieved.”
Jan didn’t have much colour to start with, but now what little she had was driven out of her face by a clenched fury. The last thing she looked was relieved.
“You can’t fucking do this to me, Hofmann,” she flared. “I outrank you. I’m not the one who’s removed a suspect from custody and helped him to escape. You’re a fucking traitor!”
Hofmann regarded her rather sadly and as her eyes slipped past him to the faces of her own men, the realisation of who they were prepared to follow must have hit her like a smack in the mouth.
“Oh, I might have expected that,” she said bitterly. “You’re nothing but a brain-dead bunch of chauvinistic morons.” She nodded to Hofmann, her disgust plain. “He’s the man, so he’s got to be right. Is that it?”
“Major König, you have overstepped your authority and you will stand down,” Hofmann said, ignoring her. “Your weapon please.”
He stepped forwards, peremptorily holding out his hand. Jan yanked the P7 out of its speed-draw holster again, tight-lipped and livid, and started to surrender it.
And that’s when Hofmann made his big mistake.
He allowed the faintest hint of a patronising smile to creep across his mouth.
Jan saw it, and snapped.
I saw the change come over her. Her eyes went wild, opaque, her grip shifted slightly, her stance hardened. The means of retribution was in her hand and all logical thought had fled in the face of fury.
I don’t know how Jan was planning on getting away with shooting Hofmann in cold blood in front of so many witnesses, but maybe she just didn’t give a shit any more.
I had a sudden almost subliminal flashback to the day when my four attackers had been acquitted and had smiled at me with gloating conceit as they’d left the courtroom. If someone had handed me a gun then, I would have pulled the trigger without hesitation and kept pulling it, rage-blind, until there was no one left standing.
Something bumped against my hip and I suddenly remembered the SIG I’d dropped into my jacket pocket outside the apartment in Berlin. I’d left the Lucznik behind the FireBlade, but no one had thought to check me for any other weapons.
The nearest of Jan’s men was standing less than a metre away from me. He caught the sudden flurry as I wrenched the pistol out of my pocket, the first round already sitting snug in the chamber and no safety to delay me. I started to bring it up level all in one move.
For all his apparently careless lapse in not searching me, he was a trained man and his reactions were damn near instantaneous. He was already turning before I’d got the barrel clear of the fabric. Already launching himself towards
me in a ferocious tackle as my target fell between the sights.
Now or never.
I fired.
I got off one clean shot before the guy’s momentum took me straight off my feet. He was big and heavy and we landed solid enough to crack the air right out of my lungs, leaving me gasping.
He recovered first, viciously twisting the gun out of my unresisting grip and jamming the business end of it hard under my right ear, the still-hot muzzle burning my skin. He dragged me up as far as my knees.
Everybody seemed to be shouting at once. I closed my eyes, waiting for it all to end. Either way.
Nothing happened.
The gun eased away from my skull, the hand on my jacket relaxed its hold. When I cautiously opened my eyes again I found Hofmann was crouching in front of me.
He put a meaty hand on my shoulder. “Thank you,” he said solemnly, and stood again. Uninjured, I noticed. Unharmed.
When he moved aside I found myself staring into Jan’s shock-glazed eyes. The rage that had transported her to the edge of madness was dissipated, spent. She was sitting hunched on the ground half a dozen metres away, breathing quick and shallow, with her right hand curled lifelessly in her lap. I don’t know what happened to the P7 she’d been holding.
Even so, two of the men so recently under her command were standing close by, their MP5Ks trained on her. Another had a medical kit open on the ground and was dealing efficiently with the wound. I’d managed to plant the shot high through the fleshy part of her right arm across the swell of her bicep and despite his best efforts she was losing blood in a steady stream down the sleeve of her jacket.
Hofmann ordered the release of Gilby’s men and Sean. The squaddie who un-cuffed Sean moved back from him quickly when he’d done it, as though afraid of reprisal. Sean merely dropped the handcuffs contemptuously at his feet and came straight over to me. He skimmed his gaze over Jan as he passed, coldly expressionless, but she was unaware of his presence.
“Can you get up?” he asked me. When I stared at him stupidly he grasped my upper arms and hoisted me gently to my feet. I doubt I would have got there without his help. Once I was upright I found I could stand of my own volition, providing I didn’t try doing anything absurdly athletic. Like breathing deep, or walking.
Sean continued to hold me steady even when there was no longer any need to do so, head bent close in to mine so I could see the individual tiny flecks of colour in the irises of his eyes. His thumbs were unconsciously brushing circles against my arms.
He was watching me with that darkly brooding frown on his face, the muscles bunching under his jaw. It took him a while before he was in control enough to speak.
“Don’t do that to me, Charlie,” he managed at last on a growl. “We’ve only just got things out in the open between us and now you’ve got some kind of a death wish!” His fingers gripped harder, making my shoulders hunch.
“Sean, go easy,” I said, but my voice wasn’t as steady as I would have liked it to be.
He almost shook me. “Christ, there you were on your knees with your eyes shut like you were waiting calmly for your own execution, and you tell me to go easy!” He stopped, lips compressed, eyes skating over my face. “Jesus, Charlie,” he said, softly now, “sometimes you terrify me.”
“What did you want me to do? She would have killed him,” I protested, shaky. “I’d have stood a better chance of reasoning with a shark than of talking her out of it. You saw how she was! Besides, you were the one who walked up and stuck a gun in her face. And that wasn’t supposed to frighten me?”
“I know,” he said, and being forced to admit it made him glower even more, “but I didn’t actually try and kill her. Governments take a very dim view of foreigners who shoot their security services personnel – however crazy they’re acting at the time. For God’s sake – they would have thrown away the key.”
I looked at him blankly for a moment, then shrugged out of his grasp and backed away from him. Suddenly cold, I rubbed at my arms where he’d been touching them, whispered, “Just what exactly did you think I was trying to do, Sean?”
He stilled, but before he could speak Gilby came over. “Venko got away,” he said quietly. His eyes flicked to me. “I hope you realise what you’ve done, Charlie.”
“I gave him my word,” I said, unrepentant. “If I’d gone back on it he would have murdered all of us, then gone after our families. You were there, Major. You heard him say it.”
I glanced across to where Romundstad and Declan were standing with Heidi Krauss, looking faintly embarrassed. She was still clinging to Romundstad, crying inconsolably into the front of his jacket, hands meshed into the fabric like she was never going to let him go. I remembered Dieter’s hysteria, that day in Gilby’s study. They’d both suffered more than they could bear. More, probably, than they would ever completely recover from.
“He may still try,” Gilby pointed out now, “but if the Germans had got him, Venko wouldn’t have had the chance to carry out any threats.”
I thought of the size and scope of an organisation like Gregor Venko’s. It didn’t die away because you cut off its head. It just grew another. More ugly.
“I don’t think so,” I said, shaking my head. “I did what I thought was right.”
I thought of Gregor’s parting words. “I will not forget this. I will not forget you . . .”
I’d risked my life, and those of the others, to save his son. I blanked out the possibility that he might blame me for the ambush. Any other way of handling it was too scary to contemplate.
“I’ll deal with it when I have to,” I said, weary to the point of tears. “Right now I just want to go home.”
The Major nodded, exchanged a look with Sean that I didn’t fully catch, and moved away.
I started to move, too, but Sean put his hands on my shoulders and turned me back to face him. “Don’t do it, Charlie,” he said.
His sudden intensity confused me. “Don’t do what?”
“Don’t go back to Cheshire,” he said. “Not permanently, anyway. They’ll smother you. Come back to Kings Langley with me.”
For a moment I was frozen by both hope and fear.
“What are you offering here, Sean?”
He saw my wariness, responded with caution of his own. “Whatever you’re prepared to take,” he said carefully. “A job, for a start. A home.”
If I’d taken half a step towards him he would have matched it. I know he would. I couldn’t quite bring myself to let go of that final reservation. Maybe Sean felt the same way.
It would come, though. If we let it.
“OK Sean, I’ll do it,” I said, and knew by his face that he remembered the last time I’d said those words, back on the day of Kirk’s funeral when he’d first asked me to go to Germany. I saw too that he realised, possibly for the first time, that what I agreed to now I’d also agreed to then.
He didn’t try and hide the relief, just smiled at me. After a moment or so I smiled back.
After all, we’d both accepted that there was no going back to what we’d had before.
But that didn’t mean we couldn’t go forwards.
Epilogue
I flew home three days later. Alone.
Sean had stayed on to help sort out the mess Ivan’s capture, retrieval and release had caused, and to finally close the case on Kirk’s death. Major Gilby had decided to come completely clean about what had really happened there. About O’Neill’s part in Blakemore’s death, too, and Rebanks’s nasty little sideline. Even the truth about the accident which had claimed the life of McKenna’s uncle might finally emerge.
Gilby was going to be lucky to stay out of prison, never mind keep Einsbaden Manor intact. I just hoped he was right about the spread of Dieter Krauss’s influence. He was going to need it.
It was, Sean told me with a weary smile, all going to take some time. He would call me as soon as he got back to the UK. We would take things from there.
“No backing out
now, Charlie,” he’d murmured, touching the side of my face as he said it.
“No,” I’d agreed. “No backing out.”
Before any of the rest of us were allowed to go we went through a debriefing by the Germans that reminded me almost of the Resistance-to-Interrogation exercises I’d endured in the army. In the end, though, they decided the line they were going to take was that none of this had ever happened. We would all do as well to remember what it was we had to forget.
I asked Hofmann what they were going to do with Jan, but the look on his face told me I didn’t want to know. He warned me that Gregor Venko seemed to have gone underground and had taken his family with him. It had been read as a sign he was about to get dangerous, to start a campaign, and I should watch my back.
The only good news he brought was that Elsa was set to make a full recovery from her flesh wound, even if she was going to have to wear a one-piece bathing suit in future.
Madeleine managed to reschedule my ticket so I flew direct to Manchester without the hassle of the stops and changes I’d gone through on the way out. I carefully scrutinised my fellow passengers as they boarded, but none of them looked like an Eastern European assassin except the head stewardess. I didn’t eat the airline food, just in case, but I probably wouldn’t have done so anyway.
I rang home before I left and my father agreed without hesitation to meet me at the airport. He was waiting at the barrier when I cleared through Customs.
He studied my face gravely for a few moments without speaking. I don’t know what he saw there, but the smile he gave me was hesitant. As though he recognised the events I’d gone through and he was just a little afraid of what they’d done to me.
It wasn’t until I was in the passenger seat of his Jaguar, heading along the M56, that he spoke, his voice neutral.
“Was it—” he paused, as if searching for the correct phrase and came up with, “—very bad?”
