by James Flynn
“It certainly is England, Sir, although I don’t recognise the airport code.”
“Ok brilliant, yes he has his own airstrip. Like I said, far too much money!”
“Great if you can get it. Would you like a lift to your car, Sir? I shouldn’t really leave the desk but it’s quiet.”
“No, no, it’s fine. I really appreciate it but I’m a mess, I don’t want to get your car dirty. It didn’t take me that long. My wife’s always telling me I need more exercise. It’s all quite exciting.”
“Very well Sir, I guess we’ll see you later, hey.”
“Yep.” As he squeaked back towards the door Luke turned. “Oh, and do me a favour, don’t say anything to my brother about me being here, our secret, yes?”
“The secret is safe with me. I hope he is surprised!”
“Oh, I think he will be.” Luke ventured back into the rain.
Outside, he turned left and walked around the visitors’ centre as if he was going out the main entrance. He stopped, crept back around and could see through the glass-panelled door that the Canadian was sat over at a computer with his back to him. Luke ran past the windows and headed back past the Focus, continuing round to the back of the hangar. It was just after midday; he had eight hours before the flight left. The cold rain bit into his skin as he removed his jacket to scale the fence. He knew that it was too risky to kill time back in Waterdown; he would stand out like a beacon. He would have to find a lay-up point to wait it out. Once over the fence, he headed off into the surrounding undergrowth.
30.
No, try again Seona. Make sure your legs are steady and drag the line right back and flick it forward smoothly.
Seona planted her feet, but the wellington boots slipped in the mud on the steep bank. She struggled to hold the long aluminium rod, it felt like the heaviest thing she had ever held. She poked out her tongue as she concentrated hard on pulling the long line out of the lake and tried to whip it hard out into the water. The hook caught on the hood of her pink jacket. The rod, line and Seona ended up in a heap at the bottom of the muddy bank on the water’s edge.
Her father and Uncle Peter burst into warm laughter; Uncle Peter shimmied down the bank and scooped her up in his arms as she burst into tears. Oh dear, it’s ok madam, that’s why we practice – so we can get better! He gave her a peck on the cheek and carried her back up to the grassy verge. Her father was smiling and knelt down to give her a hug. It’s ok, little Ruby, Uncle Peter was as bad as you when I first met him. He used to fish the British way, but we soon changed that. He gave her a wink and a smile burst across her snotty-lipped mouth. Her father heaved her up onto his shoulders and they started the walk back around to their modest log cabin on the lake. Uncle Peter walked beside them secretly pulling faces at Seona, making her giggle as she swayed on her father’s shoulders.
As they approached the door a giant bird took flight from the long grass to their left. Quick Seona, what is the name of that bird? She loved her Uncle Peter’s questions, and thinking hard she put her hand under her chin because that’s what adults did when they were thinking hard. It’s a pelican! Her Uncle Peter chuckled and her father whispered, It’s a heron! Seona quickly blurted the answer and her Uncle Peter faked surprise and exclaimed that she was right.
The log cabin looked warm and inviting as the three of them trudged nearer; Seona couldn’t wait to get in and warm, settling down with a bag of sweets and the TV.
Remember little Ruby, her father spoke from below, that warmth, comfort and love are all a person needs to be truly happy.
Her father’s words dissipated into the darkness and Seona was back in the present. It took her a moment to realise the darkness was not sleep; it had been half memory, half dream. She was still sweating and confined to the car boot. The images had been so vivid that she was now even more exhausted. She had no idea if the Russian-speaking Brit would do as he promised and return for her, and even if he did where would he be taking her?
31.
Luke couldn’t believe the rain was still falling; it pelted the branches of the trees. He had chosen a lay-up point in a small forested area about fifteen minutes’ walk west of the airfield. The sun was still throwing some light behind the clouds, but there was a hazy darkness casting eerie shadows.
The illuminated watch dial said it was 7.15 p.m.; Luke wanted to give himself a half-hour surveillance window on the airfield; he needed to analyse the situation. He wanted to get Seona onto the jet and head back to England. He knew that was going to be tougher than it sounded. He would have to deal with Razor on his way onto the plane, and then face whoever was waiting the other end. He set off for the airfield.
Laying on the cold wet grass staring at the Focus, Luke was shivering slightly. His clothes were as wet as could be, and he felt the exhaustion in every muscle. But his mind was trained to stay sharp and focused. The Focus was sitting in the same position; the strip was now alive with spotlights, both red and white. There were floodlights pouring light from the hangars. Over the far side, one of the jets was being refuelled by a small yellow truck which had a flashing blue light. He wanted to get within striking distance; he knew Razor would have to return to the car for Seona, and it looked as though he would wait until the final minute to shift her. Luke dropped down inside the fence and replaced his jacket. He jogged to the rear of the hangar to sit in the shadows. He knew that he would have to take Razor by force; it would have to be in the open: quick, violent and quiet.
As he squatted against the cold metal, the drips from the top of the hangar’s corner slapped on his neck. He kept his eyes fixed on the concrete office block, the amber light seeping from the windows now seemed sharper in the rapidly approaching darkness. Luke was almost invisible in the shadow cast by the hangar, and to his delight the car holding area where the Focus sat had no lights. The double doors at the bottom of the office block swung open and a large-framed man flicked up his collar, casting a long shadow as the light from inside followed him out, being snuffed out as the doors closed. The man strolled with purpose down the path in front of the offices and on towards the visitors’ centre; as he passed the bright white light of the centre, Luke caught a flash of his face. It was Razor.
The cold damp that seemed to have infected his bones was suddenly burned away by the familiar rush of anxiety and alertness. Luke was still too far away from the Focus to strike Razor as he reached the car; he knew that Razor would have to retrieve Seona from the boot and at that point Luke would move to the first 4x4, use it as cover and strike.
Razor eased his pace as he reached the parking area. He was glancing around as he slowly approached the Focus. Luke thought that the sharp neck movements betrayed nervousness. The plane at the far side of the airfield started up its engines, blew them at full throttle, then allowed them to settle back down to a low hum as the plane started to taxi round to the runway. As he reached the boot, Razor took one last look around, and for a brief second Luke felt as though Razor had spotted him. He was looking straight at him, but he flicked his head back to the boot. Luke took in a final deep breath, checked his pistol was still in place, and pushed gently off the hangar wall.
The tarmac allowed a silent approach to the 4x4; the sun had finally been banished by the cloud, and as Luke placed every step gently down, he was creeping closer and closer to the vehicle. As he reached it, he moved around its rear and was now only ten paces from Razor. Razor was leaning down with his head inside the boot; thoughts of Bobby screamed through Luke’s mind. The plane had finished its turning arc, and was beginning to slowly make its way to the runway. Luke loosened the Browning from his trouser band and clicked off the safety. The noise of the moving jet now masked any sound of movement.
“Up! Hands on head, take it nice and slow.” Luke jammed the pistol into Razor’s back to emphasise his calmly spoken words.
Razor did as he was told; he retracted his head from the boot and gently placed his hands onto his head. Luke saw that he had a knife in h
is left hand, and he began to turn round.
“Ah, ah, I didn’t tell you to turn round, drop it!”
At first Razor didn’t respond, then eventually he opened his hand and let the knife fall. It dropped into the boot by Seona.
“Well, well. If it isn’t Lukey boy.” If Razor was worried, his voice didn’t betray it.
“On your knees!”
Razor dropped to his knees slowly.
“What now Lukey? Have you really thought this through?”
“Perhaps you should be more worried about yourself.” Luke was measured in his response.
Over the top of Razor’s head he caught a glimpse of Seona; Razor must have been in the process of cutting the tape. Her eyes were wide, and she kept shifting her gaze between him and Razor.
“I assume our old mate Bobby is doing his deal with the devil?” Razor quipped.
“Upset by that are we?”
Razor laughed in arrogance “He was no one!”
“I’m sure he would be glad to hear that. Just a throwaway guy you could use?” Luke wanted information.
“Oh the op went perfectly to plan, Lukey Boy … well, until the fucking Yank bottled it.”
“What was the plan?”
“Now that would be telling.”
Luke drove his foot hard into Razor’s kidneys; he buckled forward, letting out a gritted moan. Then, in defiance, he returned to his upright kneeling position.
“What was the deal?”
Razor stayed silent, the plane was now sat on the taxiing runway, and time was running out.
“WHAT WAS THE DEAL?”
“Lukey, either you kill me or they do.”
“Who’s ‘they’?”
Razor shook his head. “Behave, you think I know that? How were you recruited for this job? You know the score.”
Luke had been severely kicking himself ever since the operation had gone bad about his recruitment. He hadn’t met anyone significant, just a request for a meet, upon which he had met a small sharply dressed man in an office in Old Street, London. It had seemed legitimate, but Luke knew he had been blinded by the need to return to activity. The last six months had brought the darkness back: he needed the job.
“Why the fuck did they want me, if they were going to kill me?”
“You’re asking the wrong man.”
“Who’s the right man!?” Luke sensed that Razor either didn’t know or wasn’t going to say.
“Who gave you the files on me? WHO?”
“Some guy, I didn’t know him. He was the one who recruited me.”
Who the hell has access to that folder? “Where’s the plane heading?”
“Kent – not sure exactly where, they wouldn’t tell me. I just sit with her and get paid when she’s delivered.” Luke felt that Razor was telling the truth, he had nothing to lose.
“Why do they want me dead?”
“I have no idea. Maybe they’re jealous of your pretty face.”
The jet once again fired its powerful engines filling the airfield with sound. A deep-knotted feeling appeared in Luke’s stomach, Razor had confirmed his worst fears. He wasn’t safe even back in the UK; all he had was Seona. Whoever wanted her wanted her very badly. They had gone to great lengths, and she was his only way of securing survival.
“Listen, all I know is something called Medea.” coughed Razor.
“What’s ‘Medea’?”
“I don’t know details; I saw the name in relation to the money being transferred, that’s all.”
“Who do you need to report to?” Luke sounded more emotional than he would have liked.
“No names, all I have is a number.”
“Where is it?”
Razor again just knelt in silence.
“NOW!”
Razor moved his right hand toward his pocket.
“Easy with the hands.”
“It’s in my pocket.”
Bullshit. Razor was every bit the professional. Luke knew he would have committed the contact number to memory as soon as he received it so that no hard copy could be picked up by anyone else.
“Bollocks, just tell me the number!”
Razor didn’t respond.
Luke jammed the pistol into his ear. “NUMBER!”
With a speed that shook Luke off balance, Razor clamped his right hand around Luke’s wrist and twisted it until Luke felt his grip on the gun loosen. At the same time Razor stretched out his right leg bracing himself and struck hard into Luke’s ribcage with his left, causing Luke to wince as the air was pushed from his lungs. Before he had chance to gasp for air, he felt a sharp pain run from his hand to his shoulder; Razor had almost twisted his entire arm out of its socket, and the gun fell helplessly to the floor. Then Luke was hit with what felt like a brick in the side of his temple. The jet noise disappeared into a muted whine and he lost balance stumbling to his left.
He saw Razor hesitate for a split second deciding whether to carry on the assault or grab the gun. It gave Luke the second he needed to brace his legs and drive at Razor, throwing a solid open palm into his neck and following it with a strong kick to his side. Razor was much better built than Luke had thought and he barely moved. As he swung his fist to place a precise strike into his throat, Razor brought his left forearm up to deflect the blow and simultaneously with his right threw an elbow into Luke’s nose.
Luke held his ground but the water now in his eyes made his vision blurry. He could feel the warm blood running down his face. He sidestepped the next punch from Razor and used the big man’s momentum to roll his arm up behind his back. As he was about to jam the shoulder up dislocating it, Razor kicked hard into his knee causing it to buckle. Luke threw all his weight into Razor’s back, and aimed two short sharp punches into his kidneys; he heard Razor cough with the pain. Luke anticipated the elbow Razor tried to throw again and pushed it sideways causing Razor to spin with force. Luke met his face with an elbow of his own feeling Razor’s head snap backwards.
For the first time in the exchange Razor was visibly dazed and dropped to one knee. The gun was still too far away to reach, so Luke brought his leg up to axe kick him on the back of his head but Razor still had his wits and saw the kick coming. He swept Luke’s standing leg away causing him to crack his head on the hard tarmac. He fought against losing consciousness as Razor loomed over him.
“Close Lukey boy…but not close enough.”
At that point Luke saw the pistol glint off the runway spotlights, Razor slowly brought it up to aim.
“All to plan me old mate.” Razor had a smile on his face.
The safety was flicked off and Luke made a conscious effort to keep his eyes focused dead on those of Razor. He wasn’t about to show that he had any fear of death, that had left him many years ago. He braced himself for the flash of the gun, tensing his body. Razor’s hand went white as he began to place pressure on the trigger, but then in a split second his head jerked forward and his 6 foot frame went limp. Razor dropped to the floor in a heap.
Seona stood shaking, holding the barrel end of an M4 rifle. Her legs were still tied, but where Razor had started cutting her hands free, she had pulled them apart.
Luke wiped the blood from his face; his nose was trying to clot. The relief of being alive was short-lived; he now had to deal with the task at hand. He didn’t say anything to Seona, he checked the airfield. There were a couple of workers now out with the waiting jet, it seemed as though they were beginning to get frustrated by the passenger’s absence. Razor still had a pulse but Seona must have hit him with all her strength; he was unconscious. Luke picked him up with an audible grunt at the dead-weight and staggered over to the boot. He dropped Razor inside, and his body slumped with his arms up above his head, bent around the rim of the frame. The car sagged with the weight. He then went back to pick up the pistol that Razor had dropped. He calmly checked that the magazine was inserted. As he raised the Browning, he heard Seona let out a whimper; he blocked her out, pulled the trigger and pu
t two bullets into Razor’s head. The neck jerked twice at the impact. The jet drowned out all noise.
Seona felt ice cold as she stood staring at the clinical horror of Luke’s revenge. She had never seen a gun fired before and in the last seventeen hours she had seen enough to last a lifetime. She hadn’t been expecting him to murder the other man. What have I done? Her eyes fixed on the Brit as he strode towards her; she flinched as he held out his hand.
“It’s ok.” Luke knew he needed to change his tone, he could see the fear in her eyes.
Seona hadn’t even realised that he still had the gun; she sharply drew her hand away. The fear was cascading over her; the noise from the jet, the coloured spotlights and flashing beams all seemed like a dream. Where am I? Her attention was drawn instantly back to Luke as he leant out of the boot with the knife. This is it. He’s going to kill me. But as hard as she tried no noise would come from her mouth. He dropped onto his knees in front of her and cut the tape from her legs.
“Now, you have to listen to me carefully.” Luke spoke in English this time. “You need to trust me. I know you don’t have much reason to, but if you don’t, then we won’t make it. I will be killed and you will be taken again.” He let the words hang for a moment.
“What, so you can get your hands on my ransom money?” The words shot out of Seona’s mouth. They felt like the first words she had ever spoken.
“I didn’t lift you for a ransom, my task was to get you here, and then my job was done.”
“Oh, that’s ok then.” The sarcasm was bolder than Seona expected, it was driven by fear.
“We don’t have time for this, the plane is there and we need to be on it…now!”
Seona couldn’t help but feel intensely alone. She couldn’t see that she had much choice but to follow Luke’s lead. She contemplated running and screaming the place down, but she had seen him coldly kill someone right in front of her. What would stop him doing the same to me? If he did need her alive then something told her he could definitely keep her that way. It was the only thing she had to cling to.
