“I’ve got a canister of Silane in the back of the car,” Hamilton said. “We’re going to put it inside the target caravan and release it.”
“What the hell’s Silane?” Baker asked.
“It reacts violently with air, causing small explosions.”
“Great!” Baker sneered. “We’re gonna give them a tiny, indoor fireworks show.”
Hamilton squared up to him, their faces almost touching. “If you’d let me finish, I could explain that when it’s dispensed at high velocity under pressure it results in delayed combustion.”
Hamilton took a step to the side and addressed the others, not waiting for a reaction from Baker.
“By the time the canister is empty, the air inside will be soaked with Silane. The resulting blast will blow the caravan to pieces. It should also breach their gas bottles, making it look like one of them failed and caused the explosion.”
“What about residue?” Baker asked. “Fire investigators can spot an accelerant a mile away. What are they going to make of this?”
“According to the lab, the explosion and resultant fire should destroy all traces.”
“After we deploy, how long do we have before it goes up?” Andy Hill asked.
“We should have around three minutes to clear the area,” Hamilton told him. “I’ve had a look at the overheads and that’s plenty of time to get out of the camp.”
“Sounds risky to me,” Baker said. “How do we get your canister into the caravan?”
“I’ll go in with Paul. He’s the best lock pick we’ve got and can pop the front door for me. I only need to open it a few inches so I can place the aerosol on the inner step and hit the release button.”
“What if they’re still awake?” Baker persisted.
“Then we come back and re-evaluate,” Hamilton said, becoming increasingly frustrated with his colleague’s attitude. He went to the back of his car and returned with a large can with an air-freshener label.
“This should be destroyed in the explosion, but if it survives it isn’t going to arouse any suspicion.”
Baker had to admit to himself that the idea was a good one, but was still pissed that he hadn’t been included in the planning.
“So what are we supposed to do? Sit here with our thumbs up our arses?”
“Exactly,” Hamilton said. “Sit tight, and I’ll radio in once the job is completed.”
He held out his tablet PC which showed an aerial photo of the camp. “Their caravan is situated near the back, here. We’re going to enter this adjoining field and follow the perimeter of the camp until we come to this gap in the hedge, here. That brings us into the camp just a few yards from the target. After I hit the release button, we’ll come back out the same way.”
“Why don’t we just come with you?” Baker persisted.
“Because if they somehow manage to get away, they’ll do so by car. They’ve got women and a child with them, so they’re not going to make a dash for it across the fields. I’ve left the keys in mine, so if you don’t hear from us within ten minutes, seal the entrance and do what you have to.”
“You mean clean up your mess,” Baker sneered, and Hamilton was tempted to wipe the smile off his face. In-fighting, however, wasn’t going to get the job done.
“I told you to bring the van for just this reason,” Hamilton said as calmly as he could. “These guys know their stuff, so don’t underestimate them. I’m not, and nor should you.”
Baker looked for signs of nervousness but saw none. Hamilton was simply stating an opinion, not making excuses. “If we don’t make it, get them in the van and dispose of them.”
Baker perked up at the thought of some action if it all went to shit.
“Comms check. Alpha one.”
“Delta one,” Baker replied.
“Alpha two.”
“Delta two.”
“Farrar. Are you in position?”
“Setting off now,” Hamilton told him, and with a final gesture for Baker to stay put, he jogged off down the road, Dougherty in tow.
“How long is this going to take?” Farrar asked. “I plan on sleeping tonight.”
“It should all be over in ten minutes,” Hamilton told him, as his eyes swept the side of the road for the entrance to the adjacent field. He saw it a hundred yards from the vehicles and led Dougherty over the gate and into the darkness.
A minute later he reached the hedge enclosing the camp and heard Farrar’s voice in his ear.
“Where are you now, Todd?”
Hamilton replied with three clicks of the throat mic and continued onwards, bending at the waist to stay below the top of the hedge.
“Todd, talk to me.”
“He’s gone silent,” Baker interjected. “He’s near the target and can’t talk.”
“So how come you can? Where are you?”
“I’m three hundred yards away guarding the vehicles.”
“What the hell for? Why aren’t you in there getting the job done?”
“Todd’s taken charge of the operation,” Baker said, ensuring his frustration was noted. “He had it planned out before we even got here and doesn’t want me to go along. He’s taken Dougherty, that’s it.”
Farrar went silent, and Baker knew from experience that this was usually the calm before the storm. He was proven correct moments later.
“You get in there and make sure this job is finished in the next few minutes,” Farrar snarled.
Two more clicks came over the air. “That’ll be a No from Todd,” Baker explained, “and I agree. If he can’t pull it off, we have a backup plan.”
One that Baker was looking forward to.
Hamilton’s idea, even though it had been thrown together at the last minute, was sound on paper. If the targets were asleep, if Todd didn’t wake them as he activated his device, and if the gas worked as expected, then it would be job done. However, it didn’t have the hands-on aspect that Baker really enjoyed. Given the nature of their work, it wasn’t often that he got to look his victims in the eye as he brought their lives to an end, and so he was glad that the next few minutes held so many imponderables.
“I’ll leave that call to you, Matt,” Farrar eventually said, “but I want this finished tonight.”
Baker looked at his watch. “You’ve got seven minutes, Todd.”
Seven minutes, and then Baker would know if the mission was over or it was time to have some fun.
* * *
Campbell hit the Accept button the second the phone in his hand vibrated.
“Movement,” said the whispered voice. “Coming from the west, looks like two.”
Campbell looked up the road in the direction Levine had given, but saw nothing. Whoever was heading towards Carl must have transport nearby, though.
“Clear here. I’ll head in that direction and see if I can spot their vehicle.”
There was no objection from Levine, so Campbell rose slowly and made his way towards the gate, pulling off his waterproof jacket as he went. It had served its purpose, and he didn’t want to be sneaking up on someone wearing a coat that rustled every time he took a step.
There was no sign of anyone in the immediate area and he dashed past the entrance to the field, choosing to remain inside rather than expose himself out on the road. He stopped every fifteen yards and had a look through the bottom of the hedge to see if he could spot anything, but all the night had to offer was darkness and the usual hoots and screeches as animals went about their nocturnal activities.
Campbell crossed into the adjoining field, taking care to find a gap big enough that it wouldn’t create a lot of noise as he squeezed through. As he traversed the edge he kept stopping, hoping to see a sign of life or hear a sound to indicate that he was getting close, but it wasn’t until he crossed into the third field and rounded a bend in the road that he came across a likely looking pair.
The vehicles were parked up on the grass verge and two men were behind the Transit van, one of them looking
cold and bored with his arms wrapped close to his body. The other looked more focused, leaning against the bonnet of the Ford saloon as he stroked the silenced pistol in his right hand. Every few moments he would glance at his watch, and then look in the direction of the camp.
“I’ve got a car and a van, about two hundred yards from you. I see two x-rays, one definitely armed. There could be more in the van, though.”
Campbell waited for a reply, and when none came he knew the two men Carl had heard were most probably too close for him to talk.
“I’m going to get round in front of them,” Campbell said quietly. “If they make a move, I’ll stop them.”
He slowly backtracked until he could no longer see his targets, then found a small gap in the hedge and squeezed through before dashing across the road. He cautiously made his way back towards the vehicles and stopped when the right-hand front wing of the Transit van was in view.
All he had to do now was await a signal from Levine.
It came moments later.
* * *
Carl Levine watched as the first pair of feet landed silently a few feet from the car he was sheltering under. Seconds later another person climbed over the style, and both men made their way towards the target caravan. Levine watched as one of them expertly attacked the lock, and now that he knew they weren’t just fellow campers returning from a night out, he edged out from underneath the car. As he did so, he saw the caravan door open and one of the men placed something inside, closing the door almost immediately.
The men had a quick look around and then started walking back towards the style, but their progress was halted as Levine suddenly appeared in front of them, gesturing with his pistol that they should reach for the skies. Both men did as instructed, shocked at the sight of the man they were supposed to kill standing just yards away.
Levine pointed the pistol at Hamilton and made a gesture with his left arm. Hamilton understood, and slowly unzipped his jacket, revealing a silenced Beretta in a shoulder holster. With another couple of signed instructions, Hamilton got the message to take the gun out with two fingers and toss it towards Levine.
Dougherty followed suit, his agitation showing as his glance shifted from Hamilton to the caravan, and Levine realised that they weren’t comfortable being so close to the scene of their crime. They certainly hadn’t come to deliver pizza, so whatever they had shoved inside the caravan had to be some kind of explosive device. He quickly gathered up the guns and after checking there was a round in the chamber of the silenced pistol he adopted it as his own, pushing his own weapon and the spare pistol into the waistband of his jeans.
“Move!” He hissed, indicating towards the style, and as the men walked he took up position behind them, grabbing Hamilton by the collar and placing the suppressor into the base of his skull.
“How many, and where?”
Hamilton hesitated for a few seconds, trying to decide whether to bluff or fold. “There’s a dozen of us,” he lied. “The rest are waiting in reserve just down the road. There’s no way out.”
Levine cuffed him around the ear with the gun. “Try again, and remember I’ve got another pair of eyes out there.”
“Four,” Hamilton said, his ear still ringing from the blow.
“I’ve got two secure,” Levine said softly into his hands-free mic. “Bringing them out now. Looks like four in total.” He heard a faint “Roger” in reply, and a glance at Hamilton’s left ear confirmed that the man had his own comms.
“Tell your buddies you’re pulling back,” Levine said, “and don’t even think about trying to warn them.”
Hamilton slowly moved his hand to his throat mic and clicked it on. “The Semtex is in place. We’re on our way back.”
“Semtex, eh? You guys weren’t planning on taking any prisoners, were you?”
Hamilton ignored the rhetorical question and followed Dougherty over the style, hoping Baker had understood the message. His colleague wasn’t the brightest man on the planet, but surely he could spot a warning signal.
“How long until it blows?” Levine asked, and Hamilton told him they had little under a minute to get clear. He was about to tell them to pick up the pace when Campbell’s voice came over the earpiece.
“Something’s spooked these two. They’re heading your way and not hanging around.”
Levine jerked Hamilton to a halt and shifted his aim. A single round spat from the gun and Dougherty dropped to the floor before he could make a sound, a small hole on his temple marking the entry point.
“You came here to kill not only me, but my family, too,” Levine said, the gun once again pressed against Hamilton’s skull. “Don’t think I’ll hesitate to kill you.”
There was a barely perceptible nod in reply, and Levine pulled his prisoner over to the side of the field and forced him down onto his knees. Levine got down on one knee a couple of yards behind him, pistol up and searching for targets.
He didn’t have to wait long.
The first figure appeared in his sights just as the explosion lit up the sky off to his left, and it caught Levine off guard for just a second. That was long enough for Hamilton to grab the stone near his left leg and he spun, throwing the projectile as he turned. Levine saw it a split second before it hit, catching him on the bridge of the nose before he could swing the gun around. Hamilton was up instantly, kicking the gun hand away before landing a blow to Levine’s head which sent him sprawling backwards. The air was knocked out of him as Hamilton landed on his chest with both knees, grabbing for the weapon in Levine’s right hand. He resisted as much as he could, aiming punches at his assailant’s kidneys with his left hand, but Hamilton ignored the blows. He pinned Levine’s right arm to the ground and began pummelling his shoulder, hoping to dislocate it. After three attempts there was a satisfying crack and a howl from Levine.
Hamilton picked up the pistol that had fallen from Levine’s grasp, and he placed it against Levine’s chest while he retrieved the other two weapons from his waistband. He turned when he heard footsteps from behind and saw his colleagues approaching.
“Campbell’s out there somewhere!” He told them.
“What happened to Paul?” Hill asked, standing over Dougherty’s body.
“Levine killed him. Now go find Campbell!”
“Let’s get this one in the van,” Baker said, “then we can all look for him.”
Hamilton didn’t see the point in all three escorting the prisoner to the van, especially in his current state. “I’ll deal with Levine,” he said. “You take care of the other one, and make it quick. We’ll have to come back for Paul’s body.”
Baker didn’t like the fact that Hamilton was still giving the orders despite his plan having gone to shit, but the prospect of spending a few minutes alone with Levine spurred him on. He and Hill retreated the way they’d come, weapons up in search of movement. They soon disappeared from view, and Hamilton ordered Levine to his feet.
“Fuck you!”
“I’ll count to three,” Hamilton said.
“Don’t bother, just give me the bad news.”
Hamilton was sorely tempted, but he needed to know where their spouses were, a fact not lost on Levine.
“There’s no way in hell I’m giving up my family,” he said as he got up onto one knee, all the time cradling his useless right arm. Looking up at Hamilton, he let his left arm drop to his side.
“Do it,” he said, focusing his eyes on the gun pointing towards his head.
The park was now fully awake, with people shouting and several children screaming. An adjacent caravan, showered in flaming debris from the initial blast, began to burn, adding to the intensity as the fire crept higher into the night sky.
It was only a matter of time before the emergency services arrived, and Hamilton wanted to be clear of the area before that happened.
“Come on, you stubborn bastard...” He grabbed for Levine’s collar, and the knife came up with such ferocity that he didn’t even have time t
o register shock before it plunged into his throat and exited through the back of his neck, severing the spinal column on the way.
Levine eased the corpse to the ground and retrieved both the silenced pistol and his own weapon. He replaced his earpiece, which had fallen out during the struggle, then took the dead man’s comms unit and placed the receiver in his right ear.
“These two are down, the other two are coming towards you now,” he said over the phone.
A quick search for ID produced nothing but a small amount of money. No driving licence or credit cards, not even a library card to put a name to the face. That wasn’t too surprising, given the nature of their visit.
Leaving the dead where they’d fallen, Levine jogged towards the road. He slowed as he reached the trees lining the narrow country lane and peered through the foliage, cursing the flames from the camp for ruining his night vision. Shadows danced before him, and he knew he would have to break through the tree line and put it between himself and the fire in order to see anything.
He carefully climbed over the rickety, wooden fence and sought cover behind the largest tree he could find. A glance around the thick trunk told him he was just a few yards from the road, but there were no signs of any vehicles. He guessed he was too close to the camp, so he headed away from it, taking care to minimise the sound of his footsteps.
The van came into view thirty yards ahead, and he could see Campbell kneeling next to it, a gun held to his head. He knew the other one had to be close by, and he realised just how close when the cold, hard steel of the suppressor jabbed him in the temple.
“Move,” Baker said, holding his hand out for Levine to surrender his weapons. Where the man had come from, Levine didn’t know, but he’d been a silent as a cat. He gave up the guns and stood, receiving a shove in the back to urge him forward.
“Hamilton screwed up,” Baker said into his throat mic, “but I’ve got things under control.”
“What do you mean, he screwed up?” Farrar asked.
Gray Redemption (Tom Gray #3) Page 13
