by Angus McLean
‘If you don’t shut up, he growled, ‘I’ll put you back in Intensive Care. Now fuck up and just do your rehab.’
Archer took the hint but simply moved his attention to Eva and Ingoe. Eva had also been out of action for a few days with the injuries she’d suffered, and Ingoe soon tired of being badgered.
‘I’ve got you booked on a private flight to England,’ he told Archer. ‘You’ll have a couple of weeks or so there before heading home.’
Dieter was also there, paying his second visit of the week. Ulrich had been in every day, sitting and talking with Archer, spending hours debriefing him very subtly, digging out any little nugget of intelligence he could. With his hangdog appearance and deep voice, he was like a big bloodhound, a cuddly favourite uncle.
Archer wasn’t fooled. He knew that beneath that disarming exterior lay a razor-sharp mind and a hard streak.
The two German men nodded their agreement with Ingoe’s decision.
‘It is a good idea,’ Dieter said. ‘There is nothing you can do here, Mr Archer.’
‘I will miss our little chats,’ Ulrich rumbled. ‘But you have done enough. Leave this man to us now. We will get him.’
‘Besides,’ Dieter said, a twinkle of merriment in his eye, ‘perhaps Ms Graf would like to travel with you to, ah, continue your debrief?’
Archer felt his cheeks begin to colour, much to the amusement of Ingoe and Ulrich.
‘In the interests of inter-agency cooperation, of course,’ Dieter finished.
Archer figured the man would have made a great poker player.
Chapter 36
The next morning was bright and sunny, perfect conditions for the short flight to London City airport. Archer and Eva were escorted to a private hangar at Berlin Tegel, where the BfV crew left them. As the Mercedes MPV cruised off, Archer heard footsteps approach them from within the hangar, and a man appeared with a clipboard in his hand.
He was somewhere in his forties, serious-looking, with short clipped hair and the trace of a South African accent. He checked their passports against his notes and walked them across the tarmac apron to where a sleek silver and white Cessna Citation sat waiting, the props turning slowly.
‘The pilot is aboard already,’ the man told them. ‘You are the only passengers today so as soon as you board you will be away.’ He smiled flatly. ‘Have a pleasant journey.’
He watched them climb aboard before turning away. The cabin was lined with four seats on each side, each side having two pairs of facing chairs. The door to the flight deck was closed.
‘First class,’ Archer muttered to himself, settling into the closest pod with his back to the flight deck. He wasn’t used to such luxury. In his Cat boots, jeans and loose chambray shirt, he felt out of place in such an aircraft. Naturally, Eva fit right in in her casual chic. The dressing was off her face, leaving a distinct pink scar on the left cheek.
She sank into the opposite seat and Archer watched her as she adjusted her belt and buckled up. When he’d first laid eyes on her back in that Berlin café he had known she was very attractive, but somehow, in the days they’d spent together since then, she seemed to have become even more so. She had a beauty that he couldn’t describe; it seemed to draw you in like an intoxicating scent.
As he had gotten to know her he realised that, like all truly beautiful people, her beauty radiated from within. She was a good soul beneath the outstanding physical surface, and that made her so much more appealing than the superficial beauties he had tended to spend his time with.
Archer realised he was staring when she laughed at him, and he blushed self-consciously. Her sharp blue eyes met his and he smiled.
‘Something on your mind, Craig?’ she asked.
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘Just daydreaming.’
She leaned forward, reached out and took his hand in hers. Her hand was warm and soft and strong and felt good in his. He squeezed it and she smiled. He was vaguely aware of the sound of someone climbing aboard behind him and sealing the door. Footsteps then the flight deck door opened and closed.
None of that mattered to him when Eva was so close, her eyes two deep pools of blue as they searched his, her scent filling his senses, the touch of her hand on his.
Archer was aware of nothing else but her presence, right here, right now. With him. Being with him. He knew how much he wanted to be with her. It was funny, he mused to himself. Nothing had actually happened between them, no kissing and certainly nothing more, but he knew, and he knew she knew, that there was something strong between them.
Something almost tangible, a bond from their shared experiences that could never be broken, and yet it was more than even that. It was more than just beating death; it was the desire to live. To share that life with not just any person, but this person. This fantastic girl who was gazing at him with a dreamy expression, holding his hand. He felt like a schoolboy again, and Archer knew then, knew for sure right at that very moment, that he was falling in love with this girl.
Eva Graf of the Bundesamt für Verfassungsschutz. Thirty-four years old, never married. One brother. Parents still alive. A very capable foreign intelligence officer. There had been many women in Archer’s life, but he knew without a doubt that nobody had ever consumed him like her. She was the real deal.
Eva’s eyes sparkled as she smiled at him. ‘I haven’t spent much time in England,’ she said, interrupting his thoughts. ‘You’ll have to show me the sights of London.’
‘I was thinking more of a cosy B&B in the Cotswolds,’ Archer confessed. ‘An open fire, pub meals, rambling in the countryside.’
‘I hope there would be time for some…other activities,’ she teased.
‘I don’t know if I’m up to it,’ Archer replied. ‘I’m pretty banged up.’
She pretended to pout. ‘Well I think I’d rather see a show then…’
She was cut off by the sound of the engines winding up, and they sat back and buckled up as the plane began to taxi. They were soon in the air and continued making their plans for the stop in England. Ingoe hadn’t been too specific on how much time off Archer was allowed, but he knew the leash wouldn’t be too long before he was expected to front up to the Director for a formal debrief.
But for now the time was his own, and he could think of no better way to spend it than with the beguiling Eva Graf.
They had levelled out and must’ve been somewhere over Holland, when Eva remarked, ‘There’s obviously no in-flight service. I wonder what you must do to get a drink around here?’
‘The pilots haven’t said boo, either,’ Archer mused.
‘Why would they say “boo”?’ Eva asked, her brow creasing as she tried to decipher his latest weird saying.
At that moment the door to the flight deck opened Archer heard someone approach them. He saw Eva’s eyes widen with surprise when she looked up, and he immediately swivelled, sensing danger. Ulrich stood before them, his pilot’s uniform tight across his belly.
The compact Walther PPK stainless in his hand was pointed at them. The underpowered .380ACP round made it a lady’s gun, not something Archer would ever select himself, but it was perfect for this situation. As long as Ulrich hit one of them in the torso, it was highly unlikely to damage the skin of the aircraft. A loose shot, of course, was a different story.
‘Ulrich, what are you doing?’ Eva demanded. ‘Have you gone mad?’
‘On the contrary, dear Eva,’ he rumbled, ‘I know exactly what I am doing. I have known this for a long time.’
‘You’re on Kozlowski’s payroll,’ Archer murmured. The realisation hit him hard. Not only had they had been betrayed by Jessika, but also by Ulrich. Two people of influence in completely separate intelligence agencies. ‘You’re a traitor as well.’
‘I prefer to think of myself as a realist, Herr Archer,’ Ulrich responded. ‘I have two ex-wives and five children – do you think I can afford to keep them on what I earn working for the government? A government that lies down with
the Americans and does their bidding for them? That opens the borders to all the gypsy scum of Eastern Europe and the Middle East, to come and poison my beloved Deutschland? No, Herr Archer.’ He shook his head, his jowls wobbling. ‘That is not the life I choose. I will instead retire somewhere warm, take a new identity and live the rest of my days in comfort.’
‘You traitorous, murdering bastard,’ Eva hissed, her eyes blazing. ‘You trained me. I trusted you. I looked up to you, Ulrich!’
‘And I must say, dear Eva, that I did a good job. You are an excellent asset to the BfV. However, I am not, and you will never see things my way.’
‘You’re right,’ she agreed. ‘I never will. Because I love my country and I would never betray it to lie down with the dogs like you.’
Ulrich shrugged his big shoulders indifferently. ‘Many people in our country don’t see it that way, Eva. There are many who feel betrayed, who want a return to a more…traditional way of life.’
‘Fascism.’ She spat the word out with disdain. ‘A return to a history that failed. What kind of future is that for our country – for your children?’
Archer could see the despair in her face. The rug had been well and truly pulled from beneath her.
‘So you’ve been working against us this whole time?’ he interjected. ‘We’ve been hunting terrorists while you’ve been helping them.’
‘One man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter, as they say,’ Ulrich retorted. ‘I see a freedom for my country which will never be recognised in today’s political climate, and I have the strong heart to fight for that.’
‘By helping a madman kill innocent people,’ Archer snapped back. He eyed the Walther, trying to gauge whether he could get to it before Ulrich fired. It would be a close call, but it may be the only one he could make.
‘I hope you burn in hell,’ Eva spat, ‘you are nothing to me!’
‘Easy there, fraulein,’ came a new voice from the rear of the cabin.
Viktor Kozlowski stepped into the aisle, appearing from the storage area at the rear. He was dressed in a black jumpsuit and had a parachute strapped to his back. A pair of goggles was pushed up on his head.
He grinned at their shock.
‘Surprised to see me? It’s been a while. I wondered if we’d ever get this chance, but as fate would have it, here we are.’ He leaned casually against the back of a seat at the next pod. ‘Congratulations on your speedy recovery, both of you. Shame it’s gonna go to waste.’
‘So what’s the plan, Viktor?’ Archer said. ‘The plane goes down with us on board while you jump to freedom? A tragic accident, pilot error?’
Kozlowski nodded. ‘Something like that. Right now we’re flying on auto-pilot, am I correct on that, Ulrich?’
The big German nodded. ‘Ja. The pilot has unfortunately suffered a heart attack while flying, and very shortly he will crash into the Eastern Alps.’
‘Bavaria,’ Archer said. ‘So you’re heading where – Switzerland? Austria? There used to be a good cobbler in Vienna apparently. I heard his business might have gone bust though.’
‘I thought that was probably your work,’ Kozlowski said. ‘Shame. He did good work.’ He hiked his shoulders and gave an icy smirk. ‘Saved me a job, anyways.’
‘See how he treats his friends, Ulrich?’ Archer prodded. ‘You want to watch yourself, mate.’
Kozlowski gave a derisive snort. ‘Stop talking horse shit, Archer. He’s just tryin’ to mess with your head Ulrich, don’t listen to him.’
‘It’s true, Ulrich.’ Archer held the German’s gaze. ‘Look around you – not many of his friends remaining, are there?’
Ulrich shifted uneasily and looked at his boss, who was glaring at Archer.
‘Don’t worry about him, pal. He’s in a bind and he knows it. They’ll both be dead soon enough.’
‘While you two disappear like a pair of ghosts to start again.’
‘That’s right. The plane goes down with you on board,’ Kozlowski smiled, his black eyes gleaming at his ingenuity. ‘The pilot’s real, not one of my guys. If there’s even anything left of this crate, there’ll be no trace of us on board. As the big man here said, we get away and start afresh, completely under the radar.’ He smile disappeared. ‘You already disrupted one plan, Mr Archer, but there are plenty more where that came from, I can assure you.’
‘I’ve no doubt there’s all sorts of evil shit crawling round in your crazy head, Kozlowski,’ Archer growled.
Kozlowski shrugged casually. ‘The world’s an evil place, buddy. Plenty of people willing to pay good money for bad things to happen.’
‘So this was all just a paid job?’ Eva said incredulously. ‘You weren’t doing this for any idealistic goal, were you?’
Kozlowski gave a short laugh. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he said. ‘The opportunity to get back at my former employers by blowing up LAX? Yeah, sure, that was a nice opportunity, but I still got paid for it. Or I would have done, if your boyfriend here hadn’t got in the way. That cost me dear. Meant I had to take the Berlin job at short notice and a reduced rate.’ His face darkened. ‘And because that was only a limited success, I gotta get away for a while ‘til things cool down a bit. There’s more than one outfit with a price on my head right now, thanks to you.’
‘Good.’ Archer’s jaw was set tight. ‘I hope they flay you alive. It’s more than you deserve.’
A matching stainless Walther appeared in Kozlowski’s hand and he held it at his hip, aimed at Archer’s chest.
‘No doubt they would agree,’ he said, ‘but it ain’t gonna happen. This is it, pal. I get the last laugh.’
‘The guys you used?’ Archer prodded. ‘Black Star?’
Kozlowski nodded. ‘And some guys from overseas thrown in for good measure.’
It made sense to Archer. The attackers on the airliner and at the Brandenburg Gate – probably their captors at the farmhouse, too – had been genuine jihadists, chasing their cause, but the man pulling the strings behind the scenes had been a simple mercenary.
A terrorist for hire, conspiring all the while with traitors from two different intelligence agencies. It took real cunning and determination to pull off such a performance.
And now the evil bastard was going to get away with it.
Ulrich and Kozlowski edged past them, back towards the flight deck door, the twin Walther muzzles never leaving them.
Kozlowski covered them while Ulrich removed a parachute from a storage locker and began to step into it. As he got himself sorted, Archer caught Eva’s eye. She was pale and tense.
‘Wait for it,’ Archer mouthed to her. He knew what Kozlowski was going to do – it was the obvious cover up.
Ulrich opened the flight deck door and they could see the pilot slumped forward in his seat. He fiddled with the controls and they felt the nose of the Cessna begin to dip.
As his cohort returned to the cabin, Kozlowski unlocked the side door and swung it open. Archer grabbed his armrests instinctively and Kozlowski laughed at him.
‘Don’t worry, Mr Archer,’ he chuckled, ‘we’re not high enough for you get sucked out of here. All I’m doing is getting ready to exit the stage.’
‘So am I,’ Ulrich rumbled, joining in with a hearty chuckle.
‘Unfortunately, no.’ Kozlowski told him. He turned and aimed his Walther at Ulrich’s expansive gut. ‘I need you for something else.’
‘What?’ Ulrich looked confused. ‘What do you mean, Viktor?’
‘I need you to be the bad guy,’ Kozlowski told him with a cruel smile. ‘See, you’re gonna shoot these two and in the struggle, you’ll also be fatally wounded. You’ll all go down with the plane, while I walk away.’
‘You’re double-crossing me?’ Ulrich looked aghast. ‘But…but…’
‘No buts, Ulrich. Archer was right about one thing. This is how it’s gotta be.’
Ulrich grunted and lifted his pistol, squeezing the trigger. The hammer snapped forward on an empty cha
mber. He stared at the gun in his hand as if he couldn’t believe what was happening, and that was when Kozlowski shot him in the chest.
The big German staggered back, blood blossoming across his shirtfront, and Kozlowski fired again.
Archer pushed up and threw himself forward, the nose-first dropping of the plane helping his momentum as he went for the terrorist. The Walther was coming round and another shot sounded, but Archer got a hand to Kozlowski’s jumpsuit.
The Walther crashed against the side of his head and he felt himself going down, his weak leg unable to keep him up. The whine of their descent and the scream of the wind were almost deafening now and the floor had tilted crazily.
Archer clung onto Kozlowski with one hand, trying to fend off his blows with the other. The Walther fired again, close enough to deafen his left ear and singe the hair at his temple. He got a hand to Kozlowski’s wrist and let go with his other, lashing out.
Eva came in over the top, punching at Kozlowski’s face. The Walther fell free and skittered away. Out the open door, Archer could see the ground coming up incredibly fast. If they didn’t move soon they’d be spread across the countryside. He had no idea how to pull the plane out of a death dive, so there was only one option.
He pushed himself up, taking a decent jab to the temple from Kozlowski, and got a hand to the guy’s face. They were jammed against the wall now by the force of gravity, and he used it to his advantage, gouging at Kozlowski’s eyes while he hammered his other hand into the terrorist’s head.
Kozlowski was screaming, Eva was shouting and Archer couldn’t hear a damn thing. He grabbed Kozlowski by the hair and slammed his head back against the wall, once, twice, three times.
He felt the man go slack and start to slump. He gave him a solid hook for good measure and let him fall to the floor against the open cockpit door, and Archer turned, looking for Eva. She already had Ulrich half out of his rig and Archer feverishly helped her. They were practically vertical now and he figured they only had seconds to go.
They ripped the harness free from the dead traitor and Archer yanked it over Eva’s arms, snapping it closed across the chest and waist. No time for the legs – if they were lucky, it would hold.
