Silent Warpath (Sean Quinlan Book 1)

by Dominic Conlon

  Chapter 1

  Benjamin Campbell stopped the motorbike to wipe sweat from his forehead. He was way out of his depth. Fear clenched his stomach as he looked back along the road. He couldn’t see them in the dusk, but he could hear the car: tyres squealing, engine revving. There had to be another way out.

  He gunned the bike, accelerating quickly along the outskirts of the town. He should be able to lose them in the back streets by squeezing through gaps that would stop a car. But when a second car closed off his exit he had to react quickly to find another. He realised that eventually they would corner him and when they did they would kill him.

  Galvanised into action, he made for Rocky Hill Road. He knew the territory; he would make use of it. Rocky Hill was a long road in a heavily wooded area outside Plymouth, Massachusetts. There would be plenty of places he could turn off and wait until they passed him. Then he would find somewhere to lie low.

  The speedometer flicked between 90 and 100. He couldn’t hear the car behind because of the noise from the bike engine. They might be catching up but when he got to Rocky Hill he could blast them away. He didn’t know how fast his motorbike could go but he was sure it could make 120 or more.

  He came to it suddenly. The trees either side shut out the light but there was just enough to make out the road surface. He couldn’t switch his lights on - that would show them where he was. Instead he wrenched the throttle wide open. The bike responded quickly, the speedometer racing round beyond 130. The road began to merge with the tree line.

  Then he saw the perfect opening: a long driveway to a house hidden behind the trees. He slammed on the brakes and the bike skidded in the road. He strived to keep it upright as it slowed but the bike slid out from under him. Luckily it had nearly stopped before he came off. He picked up the bike and jumped back on, kick-starting in the same movement. The engine spluttered but refused to start. He tried a second time but the engine wouldn’t catch. Ben jumped off and urgently wheeled the bike to the driveway.

  He could hear the car coming, engine screaming. He ran the bike up the slope and the car flashed past on the road. Ben continued pushing and once in the shadow of the trees he stopped and listened as the car receded. Even at this distance he couldn’t see much of the house because of the long drive. It was a safe bet they couldn’t see him either so he straddled the bike and prepared to set off.

  He cursed in the darkness. They had warned him but he ignored the danger and was paying the price. Now they had shown their hand they wouldn’t let him have a second chance.

  He waggled the bike between his thighs thinking there might be an air lock in the carburettor feed. When he kick-started, the engine caught with a smooth roar. Steering the bike back down the slope, he stopped at the bottom to check the road. There was no sign of the car. He breathed a sigh of relief, switched on the lights and turned the bike back to town.

  He hadn’t gone far when he spotted an oncoming car. Could this be the second chase car? His heart leapt and he prepared for evasive action. At the last moment the car swerved towards him. Ben twisted the throttle and jerked the handlebars left and then right to avoid the crash. He scraped along the side and then the bike was past. Now the car would have to reverse before it could come after him and Ben had the accelerator as high as it would go. Seconds later the trees thinned and he saw a large grassy space on either side. This was tempting but he needed to put as much distance as he could from the car behind.

  As he flew down the road a car hidden in the trees at the opposite end turned on its lights. They’d sent three cars for him! Hopes of escape rapidly diminished and Ben reluctantly turned the bike onto the grass.

  Drainage ditches criss-crossed the field and the bike bucked and slithered as it crossed each one. A quick glance over his shoulder rewarded him with small satisfaction. The two following cars were having great difficulty: bouncing over the ditches slowed their progress. Coming to a wider channel Ben turned the bike to follow it back to the road. Water and mud sprayed out from both sides as he opened up, only 50 yards from the tarmac. Once he reached that he would be free. The cars would take forever to get to the road and in the meantime he would put enough distance between them to find a place to hide.

  His front wheel was only five yards from the road when the third car appeared, roaring through the trees on the right, too fast to avoid. Ben started to turn the handlebars away as the bike met the road. The car caught the bike and hurled them into the air. They landed on the hard tarmac, yards apart.

  The second car pulled up with a screech of brakes and two men got out. The first man observed the scene. The motorbike’s engine had stalled, but the front wheel continued to rotate. Campbell lay sprawled on his back, blood pooling behind his head. ‘He looks dead to me, chief. Shall I make sure?’

  Schaeffer turned his collar up to ward off the evening chill. ‘No, it’s supposed to look like an accident. Don’t touch him.’

  Agent down. Return immediately.

  Sean’s gaze flicked up from his mobile to follow the attractive student as she left the car and walked uneasily towards the shop.

  Sean was used to waiting. The heat and humidity didn’t make it comfortable. Sweat trickled down his neck creating a damp patch between his back and the cracked leather of the car seat. He opened the window to listen to the surroundings. Immediately the earthy odour from the laterite road wafted in overlaid with a hint of decay from the nearby mangrove forest. The smell of the river was unmistakable. Opening the window any further would not make any difference to the temperature because there was no cooling breeze.

  Sean scanned the message again and frowned. When London used the word immediately they weren’t joking. A deep sigh escaped his lips. In his peripheral vision he saw a battered Nissan pickup approach. It parked opposite the shop which doubled as a shanty house, but no-one got out.

  Agent down: there was no clue in the message as to who it was, but he had an idea. It was typical of London to be so curt. Return immediately: no please or thank you, just get your arse back now.

  From outside the car Sean Quinlan looked like he was dozing. His tropical hat was pulled well down over long brown hair and his stubbled face was hidden by the dash. The crumpled linen suit he wore disguised a wiry body. He sat slumped in the seat with his eyes appearing above the instrument panel, though no-one could guess at their clear blue colour through the deep shade cast by the brim.

  Someone should have got out of the car by now, so it could only mean trouble.

  From his vantage point he could make out two men in the front seat of the Nissan and the outline of a third in the back. Slowly the car door opened and the driver got out. Thin and medium height, he wore stained loose clothing that had once been white. He looked nervously around for a few moments. Appearing satisfied that no-one was watching he signalled for the other two. They stood in a huddle apparently in guarded discussion.

  The driver broke away from the group and sauntered towards the rear entrance of the shop. Sean put the phone away. As the other two moved to the front door, Sean slipped out of the car.

  They might be amateurs he thought, but Kelly’s life was now in danger.

  Kelly Chen opened the door and stepped inside cautiously. The air was cool and slightly musty. As the door closed it brushed against some chimes. The smell of sandalwood drifted over from some incense sticks smouldering on a shelf.

  She looked around. The shop was typical of those in Kuala Gula: small, badly lit and crammed with carvings, basketry and crystal ornaments. Kelly walked over to the counter, picked up a small delicate brass bell and rang it. There was no response. Impatiently she ducked behind the counter to investigate the rear of the s
hop which was hidden from view by a set of ornate Chinese drapes.

  The curtains twitched and a white round face emerged from the parting.

  ‘Oh God!’ her hands flew to her face.

  The curtains opened slowly to reveal a rotund Chinese figure. His eyes darted towards the door and around the shop before taking her in.

  Kelly backed away. ‘I’m really sorry, I thought there wasn’t anyone here.’ Her voice sounded nervous and she reprimanded herself for being taken by surprise.

  The man’s demeanour changed unexpectedly, the face slowly creasing into an enormous smile.

  ‘Selamat tengahari.’ He stopped and bowed, hands together as if praying.

  Kelly quickly recovered, shook his hand loosely and touched her heart. She smiled cautiously. ‘Mr Wei, I’m Kelly’.

  Wei straightened up. ‘I must apologise for the sudden appearance. I hope I didn’t frighten you but I am expecting some ah.. unwelcome visitors. Shall we?’ Wei indicated a narrow wooden staircase and they began to climb. He led the way to an untidy kitchen cum dining room and gestured for Kelly to take a seat in an over-stuffed armchair covered with a bright green silky cloth.

  ‘Would you care to take some tea with me?’

  Kelly bowed. ‘Ang Cho Teh.’

  Wei had his back to her so she couldn’t see his facial reaction. But she did notice a fractional stiffening of the shoulders as Wei continued to add water to the pot. He placed it on a tray and brought it over to a nearby mahogany coffee table. Sitting opposite her, he folded his hands in his lap. ‘So you have been sent to me’ he said simply.

  Kelly chose her next words carefully. ‘Mr Wei. I was told you might have something for me..’

  She was interrupted by the sound of wind chimes from downstairs, quickly followed by a crash as if a shelf of brick-a-brac had fallen over. Wei’s expression changed instantly. He rose quickly and beckoned. Kelly followed him through to another room at the back which looked like a workshop. Sounds of the disturbance continued to come from below.

  In the corner was another set of rickety wooden stairs. They creaked alarmingly as Wei led the way up to a dusty attic. The floor was covered with stuffed animals, cardboard boxes and packaging.

  Without hesitation Wei pulled out a wooden crate and stood on it to reach the skylight above. Kelly heard a clatter on the stairs and knew they were only moments away from being discovered. She looked around for some kind of weapon. Flipping open one of the boxes she was frustrated to discover nothing more than a rosewood carving of an elephant. Wei pushed the window open and began to pull himself through as the attackers burst into the room.

  As Kelly pushed the overweight Wei up through the skylight she felt a savage blow to the kidneys. The man pulled her away in his desperation to get to Wei. The pain hit and she sagged to the floor.

  A million thoughts ran through her mind before she recollected her training. Sean’s voice directed her almost as if by her side. ‘Can’t escape? Then you must deal with the opposition.’ She had no gun - Sean was very particular about that – but Kelly needed a weapon this instant. She looked down at the carving she still clutched in her hand. It would have to do.

  She crouched and then straightened in one movement, driving the wooden figure hard up between the man’s legs. The man twisted, howling in pain. The statuette flew out of her hand, spinning away.

  She felt a renewed bout of pain and knew she did not have enough strength left to face the second man. He was already on her, knife in his raised hand. But her training kicked in and without thinking she stepped back only to fall over a packing case. As she fell she saw Sean appear in the doorway, but he was too far away to help. To gain time she rolled to one side as she hit the floor. She kept on rolling, finally coming face to face with the rosewood carving. Instinctively she grabbed the statuette. Even in the heat of the moment she noticed the tusks had snapped off.

  She saw Sean appear behind the second man. She couldn’t see what he did but the man sank slowly to his knees. With a pure animal snarl Kelly rose and swung the rosewood carving round in a hard blow to his head. The man collapsed without a sound.

  ‘Steady’ warned Sean, grabbing her arm. ‘We don’t want to kill him’.

  Kelly sat back, heart pounding and gasping for breath. Finally she breathed ‘you may not, but I do.’

  Christopher Schaeffer thought the man behind the desk looked small, lost behind half an acre of Carpathian elm and a large monitor. The normally mild face was topped with a crown of grey hair and he looked as if he wouldn’t hurt a fly.

  ‘Is he dead?’

  ‘I think so.’ Schaeffer had prepared his script.

  ‘What do you mean - you think so?’

  ‘We hit him hard. He wasn’t wearing a helmet and the back of his skull was caved in.’

  The man grunted. ‘Check the hospitals. If he’s been found you’ll need to send someone to make sure he’s dead.’ The bland face assumed a thoughtful expression. ‘Did he talk to anyone?’

  Schaeffer shook his head. ‘We’re monitoring all the key people. He never got time.’

  Over the four years he had worked for Dennis Clarke he had grown to hate and fear him. Initially he was taken in by the silver-haired man with the courteous manners and softly spoken cadences. At his interview Schaeffer was prepared to meet the head of one of the biggest defence contractors in the States. He expected the man would exude power and he was not disappointed. What he did not expect was the man would prove to be more ruthless, ambitious and greedy than himself.

  ‘Did you find anything at the flat?’

  ‘No - we checked all his papers’ replied Schaeffer.

  ‘Computers?’

  ‘We found a laptop and smashed it against the radiator. We also spray-painted the walls to make it look like some dope-heads got in.’

  ‘You should have taken the computer.’

  ‘It’s in hundreds of pieces’ Schaeffer pointed out.

  ‘Right - don’t forget you’re getting a new member of the team next week. I want you to show him around.’

  ‘Everything?’

  ‘Yes, everything. He needs to see the whole operation.’

  ‘The last guy ..’. Schaeffer was interrupted by Clarke.

  ’...was planning to sell confidential company information to the media. We had to lose him.’

  ‘I read he was found on the shore near Kingsbury beach in Cape Cod bay. The paper said his body was so bloated and scarred that he could only be identified through his dental records.’

  Clarke shrugged.

  ‘I’ll remind the new person of his obligations’ said Schaeffer.

  ‘Good. Is there anything else?’

  ‘No’ Schaeffer replied.

  ‘Then you’d better get on with it.’

  ‘Good afternoon sir. Please could you sign in the visitor’s book?’

  The youth behind the desk was hardly out of school thought Lomax. He took the proffered pen, signed in, and waited patiently while the man prepared his pass.

  ‘I’ll let Mr Andrews know you have arrived. In the meantime would you like a tea or coffee?’

  Lomax shook his head.

  ‘Very well sir. Perhaps you would like to take a seat while I let Mr Andrews know you are here?’

  Lomax chose a chair that allowed him the best view of the reception area. He cast a disapproving eye over the gleaming décor before picking up a newspaper. Before he had time to turn to the second page the pimply youth was talking to him again.

  ‘Mr Andrews is ready for you sir. Please could you make your way to room 612?’ Lomax knew it as the briefing area for major operations.

  ‘Sir, you take the lift to ...’

  ‘Thank you, I know my way’. Lomax dismissed him and strode to the lift. As the doors closed he pushed the button for the sixth floor. He couldn’t help wondering what they had in store for him.

  Up until he left he had been an agent for the Section. Though agents were trained to deal with it, the
y had to work for prolonged periods under extreme stress and threat of exposure. Lomax knew several agents who had not lasted beyond their first mission. But he thought it unlikely he would be offered agent status again - not after the last time.

  There were only two other roles in the field he could be offered: executive or specialist. Executive’s job was to liaise with London and obtain whatever resources were required by the agent: information, access, guns, money or anything else. The executive was responsible for keeping the mission on track, making this the most senior position in the team. It required a different set of skills though the best were former agents. Given the balls-up on the last mission Lomax knew he wasn’t about to be offered that role.

  Possibly specialist then, thought Lomax. He had racked his brains as to what specialist skills they might want him for, but he kept coming back to the thought that all his experience was in field-craft: survival, weapons, hand-to-hand combat, intelligence gathering, theft and burglary, transport - the list went on. But all those skills were gained from his time as an agent. Specialists had knowledge or skills outside the range of normal agents, such as communications, ciphers or bio-technology. Lomax couldn’t imagine he was to be offered that role either - he simply wasn’t an expert in any other field.

  Only one position seemed to fit. They wanted him not for field operations but as a training instructor - an area well away from the cut and thrust of mission work. They wanted him to pass on his extensive experience to people like the kid on reception. As he knocked on the door he resolved to turn down any offer they made. He was just not cut out to shape up green recruits; he lacked empathy and was too impatient with anyone less experienced than himself.

  As he walked in he recognised the man behind the walnut veneered desk. Andrews had aged badly and looked at least ten years older than his actual age of sixty two. He wore a thatch of white hair and his immaculate suit was draped over a scarecrow of a body. Andrews continued to write in his notebook as though unaware of Lomax. There was a strained pause.