The Shadow Of Medea (Luke Temple Series Book 1)

by James Flynn

  As he drove through Canada he could really see why so many people fell in love with the place. The highway passed right by Niagara Falls, and he could see the thronged masses that were swarming to see the wonder. Luke wished he was visiting under better circumstances; he would have loved to have gone to the edge of the falls and taken in the beauty in full. He drove over the Queenstown Lewiston Bridge: a magnificent steel structure that had rumbling waters underneath. Even the dull-coloured day couldn’t diminish the lush green side to the ravine. There were so many countries that he had passed through without seeing the normal tourist sites. He and Sarah had planned to visit Canada in the future and it added a sense of pain to the beauty.

  The highway now hugged Lake Ontario as Luke sped along; he was desperate to close up the distance with Razor. The rain had also crossed the border and the spray from the road was becoming inhibiting, Luke knew that the advanced vehicle training he’d had wouldn’t count for anything if another car smashed into him. Glancing through the rain-blurred window, he could make out a vast body of water to his right. He never ceased to be amazed how in every country simple things such as lakes always took on a unique feel; Lake Ontario had as much Canadian character embedded in it as a citizen of the country.

  All of a sudden there was a break in the rain. Luke burst onto the James Allen Skyway Bridge. To his left Luke could now see the sprawling buildings of the city of Hamilton, and the swollen torrent that was Lake Ontario flowed into Burlington Bay. The lake looked angry as the wind blew waves across the normally still surface, giving the impression that Luke was driving over rapids.

  The airfield was about nine miles north of Hamilton, located a couple miles north west of a small town called Waterdown. Luke didn’t want to just pull up to the airfield and stroll in announcing his presence. It was certainly the quickest thing to do, but speed often led to fatal errors. It was 10 a.m. and Luke was clinging to the hope that the plane hadn’t yet arrived to take Razor and Seona to their destination. He was confident that he’d made up some time on the pair. Razor would think that he was dead and wouldn’t take any unnecessary risks. He had decided to park on the outskirts of Waterdown and trek the remaining two miles to the airfield, he wanted to conduct a quick recce to assess the options available to him.

  Luke pulled off the highway and headed on toward the town. As he drove past the first set of houses he was struck by the Georgian style, the houses were huge. They all seemed picture perfect, detached, and with beautiful lawns. It was a perfect Hollywood depiction of a suburban street. He knew he couldn’t park in one of the residential streets, his car would be noticed very quickly. He got the impression that the residents knew exactly which car belonged to whom, and at what time they were usually to be seen.

  He pulled out and joined a through road; he imagined that a lot of people probably commuted to Hamilton for work, the traffic would be ladies of leisure heading for brunch.

  He abandoned the car in a street that was positioned right on the north-western outskirts of the town. It was flanked either side by red brick buildings, which Luke guessed constituted offices in Waterdown. It was quiet and no parking lines meant no inspectors checking on any illegally parked cars. If there was one thing Canadians did very well, it was enforcing the law.

  The rain had again started falling. On the other side of Parkside Drive were fields leading to the airfield. Luke jumped the fence and began running in the direction he had memorised. He now had the element of surprise, he was preparing to strike and it revitalised him; he was now in familiar territory. Suddenly a sharp thought split his head: What if they had changed airfields and this was just a decoy? There was no point wasting energy on things he couldn’t control; if they were at this airfield he would take action, anything different then he would cross that bridge when he had to.

  He quickened his pace across the now-boggy field and left Waterdown behind in the wet haze.

  29.

  Luke was panting hard; his clothes now hung like a tonne weight around his body. As he reached a line of trees he could see that an orange windsock was visible through the branches. He made his way through and saw a windsock perched on top of a high grass verge. The verge was man-made; it signalled the edge of the airfield. The grass verge stretched to his left and right, it must have been around ten feet high and had a fairly steep slope. He could see that in the distance it curved around, circling the whole perimeter. He lowered himself onto his stomach and began crawling up the slope, leaving a trail as the grass flattened. He stayed low as he reached the brow of the hill, on a horizon as sparse as this a moving object could be seen from great distances, and he didn’t want anyone in the airfield clocking him … not yet.

  The airfield itself was much larger than he imagined, it had a large hangar way over to his left, two runways and various connecting tarmac drives. Directly in front of him, the other side of a wire fence that circled the entire airstrip, were two small Learjets, and a long oblong case on wheels that carried a glider. Luke pulled a small telescopic sight from his trouser pocket which he had removed from the M4; it was still dry thanks to his waterproof Gore-Tex trousers. Putting it to his right eye he surveyed the rest of the strip. Opposite him, over on the far side, was a set of what looked like offices – the building was basically a three-tiered concrete block. On its roof stood a radar receptor. Next to the office block on the left was a smaller building which had an emblem emblazoned on it; the emblem comprised a plane and helicopter flying at different angles on a bright blue background. The text read: Flying is freedom.

  Luke thought it was a strange emblem as there didn’t appear to be a helipad anywhere on the site. There was also a sign above the emblem that stated it was the visitors’ centre.

  Splitting the office and visitors’ centre was the main entrance. It was just a tarmac road that led off out towards a large sign that straddled it further in the distance. There was nothing else in the airfield, and judging by the lights blazing in the offices everyone was sheltering from the rain. Luke didn’t think there would be a large staff working on the site, it was big in area but it certainly didn’t seem busy. Then he saw what he had been looking for.

  Parked with a handful of other cars sat Razor’s Ford Focus. It was on a roughly laid piece of tarmac in between the hangar and the branded building. There was no sign of Razor; if he was still in the compound, then Seona would be locked in the boot. How is he planning to transfer her to the plane? He needed a better look; the windows to the buildings were blurred with rain. He slid back down the grass verge and headed round to his left.

  As he mounted the brow of the verge he was now looking at the back corner of the hangar and was side-on to the visitors’ centre. He stayed low as the main entrance was now round to his left; he was much closer to the Focus. It lay just the other side of the wire fence, which was twenty metres in front. There was still no movement around the strip. They must be fair-weather flyers.

  If Razor was still present then Luke didn’t want to engage him head-on, so walking into the visitors’ centre straight off the bat was a bad idea. He knew that the best way was to check the Focus, see if Seona was still inside. Taking one last check through the rain for any signs of life he gently slipped his way down the grass and headed toward the fence.

  Luke examined the bottom of the fence first. Often, wire mesh fences could be bent upwards to allow someone to pass underneath. However he noticed that this one was actually tightly attached to metal poles that dug deep into the earth. He tried pulling at them but even with the now-malleable soil there was no budging and he didn’t have time to waste. He looked to the top of the fence and noticed the standard bundle of barbed wire that created a cylindrical deterrent; there were no gaps along the length of the fence, so up and over was the only choice.

  He took off his water-heavy black jacket, and spun it around his hands, it looked like a wet black towel but would do the trick of allowing him to grip the fencing and protect his hands. The gaps in the fence allowed
just enough room to get the tips of his trainers in for a foothold. He started the ascent.

  His body had begun to shiver involuntarily as he dropped down the other side; his t-shirt was now soaked through, and it almost felt redundant to put his jacket back on. He zipped it to the top to try and build up some sort of heat.

  He kept low to the ground as he jogged over to the Focus; he swerved between two other Ford 4x4s which looked as though they were staff cars, and leant with his back up against the rear passenger door facing away from the visitors’ centre. A pale white light was emanating from the visitors’ centre, and he could just make out a wooden desk that had a man wearing a blue cap standing behind it. It was hard to make out anything else through the haze, but a side window in the concrete office block was steamed up, which meant that there must be a few bodies inside, which in turn meant that the guy with the cap in the visitors’ centre was probably alone. The window there was clear.

  Moving cautiously around to the back of the Focus, Luke kept crouched. He flicked open a buttoned leg pocket on his Gore-Tex trousers and pulled out a sleek metal object. He knew when he searched Bobby before dumping him that the electronic skeleton key was a useful find.

  As he was about to insert the device into the boot lock he heard a distant sound, at first it was hard to make out over the rain. He swung his head toward the fence; the noise was the sound of a car engine, and it was growing louder.

  The blue 4x4 suddenly became visible, pulling through the main entrance. It disappeared behind the visitors’ centre and Luke knew it was coming round to park. He abandoned the boot and re-took his position beside the car, keeping his head below the windows. He heard the deep rumbling engine pull closer and closer. It rounded the centre and was onto the tarmac.

  Luke peered carefully through the window, it was heading past the other side of the Focus and, judging by the position of the other two 4x4s, it was going to pull around the back end of the car and park right where he would be in full view. He didn’t have time to head for the hangar; he kept his knees bent and shifted around to the front of the car. He looked through the windscreen out through the rear window and saw the 4x4 pulling around in the arc that he had anticipated. He waited until the 4x4 was in mid-turn and flung himself onto the floor in front of the bonnet. He rolled across to the opposite side and jumped back to a crouching position, leaning against the front driver’s side.

  The 4x4 stopped just next to the Focus on the side he had originally been stood. He heard a man jump out, talking on his cell phone in a Canadian drawl.

  “No it don’t matter, bit of rain never hurt us, the weekend is still going be great, hey?”

  Luke rested his body against the car. Any moment now the man would have to pass the Focus. Luckily for him, the man had broken into a run to beat the rain and never glanced in Luke’s direction.

  The boot popped open and the musty heat hit Luke in the face. She was still lying in the foetal position, legs and hands tied and with masking tape over her mouth. She didn’t stare at him in wide shock, merely flicked her eyes over him and returned to her absent glaze.

  Luke realised that she had been given nothing to drink this whole time, her eyes were bloodshot and her nose looked raw. She stretched her neck up like an animal clawing for some relief. He didn’t have time to indulge her; he had to get her full attention.

  “Look at me, Seona look at me!” He used Russian to speak to her.

  Seona shifted her attention to the man. She noticed his eyes, and she recognised the feminine shape to them. It was the Brit from the waste ground.

  “Seona, you need to listen to me, I am not going to hurt you, I’m going to help you.” Luke kept a stern but soft voice. “I need to find out some things. I can’t untie you just yet, but I’m going to ask some questions. I need as many answers from you as I can get, it’s for your benefit so just nod or shake your head. Understand?”

  Seona struggled to take all the information in. What does he want? He’s talking Russian.

  “Understand?” He had to take control, and fast.

  Seona nodded her answer. She just wanted to keep the boot open and the rain pouring in.

  “Is there a tall British guy here?”

  Seona nodded.

  “Did you stop on the way here to pick anyone else up?”

  She shook her head, chances were that Razor was alone, he may have met someone here but Luke doubted it, he would more than likely put her on the plane and head back to England by other means.

  “Did he hurt you?” Luke could see that she was on the edge of tears.

  The question caught Seona off-guard; she could no longer tell if this man was being genuine. She was confused.

  “Ok, listen, I am going to have to leave you here, but I will be coming back for you … I promise. If I move you before the time is right then neither of us will be going anywhere, understand?”

  He was not sure she had understood anything he had said but she gingerly nodded. Her eyes seemed to be pleading to let her out, but he couldn’t. Luke had calculated that the jet Razor would be putting her on would be the best option of getting out of Canada with Seona. However, if Razor was running continuous checks on her and he discovered she was gone that option would be closed.

  Seona closed her eyes as the last drops of rain soaked her face; she heard the boot close, and the deadened sound return. She was now more confused than ever before. Was the man really coming back for her? What difference did it make? He would only be using her for something too. She desperately wanted to scream so loud that her father could hear. Please help me!

  Resting crouched against the boot, Luke took in a deep breath; he needed to know what time the flight was arriving, only then could he decide what course of action to take. Seona’s deep blue eyes flashed across his mind, but he banished the thought immediately. There was only one way to find out the arrival time, and that was to become visible and head into the visitors' centre. He would concoct some story. The main danger lay in the fact that he had not had eyes on Razor’s position. He had no choice.

  ***

  The white light was emanating from an energy-saving lightbulb. Luke took a look through the window before entering; he had been right about the man wearing the blue cap, he was alone in the centre; a row of wooden benches were placed under the window but no one occupied them. There were no other doors in the reception area, nowhere that Razor could be. Luke threw open the glass-panelled door.

  The whole centre was made of varnished wooden panels; it reminded Luke of a log cabin you would find in a national park. His trainers squeaked and carried mud across the wooden floor as he strode over to the counter that split the lobby from the office section. The man had watched Luke from the entrance, and as Luke approached he slipped into his charming tourist routine.

  “Can I help you, Sir?” The Canadian had a surprisingly high-pitched voice; he looked mid-twenties, bright blonde hair protruded from under the cap. Luke now saw it had the emblem from outside printed upon it.

  “Wow, it is wet out there, horrible weather.” Luke hammed up his accent, and he clocked the man staring at his dripping mud-stained clothes. “My bloody car broke down about two miles away; you guys really are out in the middle of nowhere. I had to trek here, getting hopelessly lost for good measure.”

  “How about I fix you a nice cup of tea, Sir, hey?” The Canadian was now smiling and being his usual helpful self.

  “Thank you, that would be lovely.” Luke noticed that the office was all open-plan behind the counter; it consisted of four desks.

  “What brings you out to us, Sir?” The Canadian shouted from the sink area at the back corner of the office.

  “Well, my brother has been over here on holiday visiting us. He’s leaving from here today but I got the day off work to see him off, it’s a surprise. I think it may have all gone wrong though, he’s probably left by now.”

  The Canadian returned with a mug of tea and a green towel. “There you go, Sir. Well, I ca
n tell you some good news, because of the awful weather conditions no flights have left or arrived yet today. There’s a huge storm coming, we’ve been told that hopefully by 5 p.m. they’re due to run again. That’s why you don’t see any ground staff – all the passengers and staff are over in the holding area in the offices.”

  “Oh that is marvellous, well for me anyway.” Luke threw in a fake laugh. “I don’t suppose you could check what time my brother’s flight is due to leave could you?”

  “I certainly can if you have the flight reference number, Sir. I assume it’s going to … England?”

  Luke hadn’t got a clue. “Yep that’s right.”

  “I could tell by the accent.” The Canadian looked pleased with himself. “If you give me the reference number, I will pop and check it on a computer back there.”

  “It’s ZY4488C.” Luke had committed it to memory.

  “Ok, give me two minutes, Sir.” He strolled over to a computer situated by the window looking out at the entrance driveway.

  Luke turned and looked out of the glass doors, the rain was still lashing down and there were no gaps in the black clouds. He was on edge, he knew Razor was on the premises; he would be sat waiting in the office block. Luke could just picture him, annoyed at the fact the flight had been delayed.

  “Ah ok, yeah, here we are, yeah, your brother was in here earlier Sir, asking what was going on with this flight.” He pointed over to the two jets. “It’s that plane over there Sir, on the right. It’s scheduled to leave at 8 p.m. Your brother was very annoyed about that. Hey, I did apologise but it’s out of our hands, we are really backed up today.”

  “Not your fault, my brother has a bit of a short temper so don’t take it personally. Well, that works out perfectly; I can shoot and get the car fixed and then return later to give him a little send-off. Just a quick question, is it definitely heading to England? It’s just my brother talked of possibly heading to Mexico to extend his holiday; honestly, that man has more money than sense.”