The Shadow Of Medea (Luke Temple Series Book 1)

by James Flynn

  Intelligence services would have been able to clear the image up by now, showing a sharp picture of him walking past the Plaza entrance moments before Seona was snatched. He knew that would be the end. Group 9 had been a small powerful cell but even they had people to answer to. Once his image was internally released across intelligence communities he calculated it would take only twenty-four hours until an elimination order would be issued.

  People had tracks to cover. It was now irrelevant to his safety to unmask Medea; he would be hunted to the ends of the earth. But it was vital to Seona’s survival; if they could find out the identity of Medea, they could then go public. Seona would become the most protected person in the country overnight. On more than one occasion during the night, he had debated taking her to a secure location and informing the authorities so they could collect her safely.

  But Luke could not shake the unease; he could not be sure how deep Medea had infiltrated the intelligence community.

  Razor and Lennon knew my name, and I was hired directly.

  The thoughts wouldn’t leave him. What if by doing what he felt was the right thing, he actually ended up delivering her directly to Medea?

  The sun now cast a red glow across the landscape; the lush greens blanketed the view. Luke’s eyes lazily scanned the horizon. He instinctively captured and stored the outline of the land, noting border lines and hedgerows, assessing their refuge and protection. Every exit in the house had already been assessed and stored to memory.

  Always have an objective, never deviate, that way everything will be used to achieve it. Now his life was effectively over, there was only one objective: eliminate Medea.

  50.

  The journey from London had been quick and easy, traffic was non-existent on a Sunday evening. Now, as the black shadows faded into the darkness, he put the penlight in his mouth and did the final check on his L96A1 sniper rifle; he wanted to make sure the telescopic night vision sight was in place.

  The rifle gave an accurate shot up to one kilometre, but he was going to be a lot closer. Folding the bipod and butt spike up in place, he cut the penlight off. In the darkness he felt far more alive; he pulled the balaclava over his face and strapped the rifle across his back. He was going to set up at a distance, and keep a watch on the house while the team moved in; if anyone tried to run they would be killed. As he jumped the fence and started across the open fields away from the car holding area he made sure he stopped every few hundred yards and listened, checking there were no unusual sounds.

  The anticipation of taking such a target was bubbling in his veins. He had fought the urge to be part of the direct assault, strategically he needed to cover and he was the most accurate shot. As he negotiated his last thorn-ridden field barrier, the house glowed in the darkness. It sat on top of a slight hill; he could see the gravel driveway which led up to a circular fountain feature in front of the house. He knew that tucked out of sight on the road leading to the driveway sat an idling van, waiting to take the prize to her destination.

  There were lights on in the downstairs rooms, a giant window running the height of the front of the property had no curtains covering it and would hopefully provide a fantastic view of movement within the house. Pulling the rifle off his back he pulled down the bipod and butt. Lying on the ground he was thankful that it hadn’t rained that day. Flicking the sight to night vision the world turned a dull green; he could now make out the details of the fountain. There was an ornately carved cherub apparently holding a globe from which water poured.

  From the periphery of the dull green world, the first dark figure emerged from the fields and began approaching the house. Then another. And another. The green world was suddenly alive with black shadows. They were animals silently stalking their prey.

  The operative was too engrossed in the scene playing out through his night vision to notice the short stocky bald man who was gently moving along the field barrier, keeping to the shadows.

  51.

  Luke finished packing Aubert’s borrowed clothes into a black flight bag. They covered the bare essentials, enough to see them through a few nights. They would buy more clothes with the cash if necessary. Credit cards were completely out of the question as they would leave an electronic trail a mile long.

  That’s if they lasted another few days.

  He caught himself in the mirror, still sporting the Calvin Klein ensemble. They were the only designer clothes that he could remember ever wearing. He didn’t follow trends and didn’t have any need to prove anything with clothes. His life was designed to be invisible.

  He didn’t recognise the reflection staring back. His wiry hair sat lopsided on top of his head, his nose was slightly less swollen but the kink in the bone was now visible. He hoped Seona was ready to leave. She still hadn’t said much to him but she had given him a deep hug when they had bumped into each other in the kitchen. It was a warm embrace, reinforcing Luke’s determination to keep her safe.

  She asked for none of this, and my objective is to secure her safety.

  Then he heard it.

  The noise was only faint, but it hit Luke’s ears like an alarm. It was glass smashing.

  The hairs on his neck stood to attention. He shot out of the room and edged along to Seona’s room. The landing upstairs was still in darkness. He pushed open Seona’s door and found her lying on her side staring at the wall. At first she smiled at Luke, hoping he had come to talk, but the look in his eye said otherwise.

  “What’s wrong?” her eyes widened.

  Luke grabbed Seona by the wrist. “In the wardrobe, now!”

  “What are you talking about? What’s wrong?”

  “I need to check something downstairs, get in and stay in.”

  “No, no, no, please. I’ll come with you, not the dark again.” Seona started to lose it.

  “It’s ok. I’m not leaving you. This time it’s for your own safety, trust me.”

  Seona climbed into the wardrobe space, visibly shaking.

  “Do not come out unless I tell you to, no one else, not even Aubert! Understand?”

  “But …”

  “Only me!” Luke barked and Seona nodded.

  The wardrobe would offer no protection if the room was searched but it was to keep her out of the way. Luke ventured back out into the dark landing and closed Seona’s door. He froze and adjusted his ears to the background sounds. It was silent. As he reached the staircase, the window facing out onto the front driveway was like a black hole in front of him; the curtain was open and Luke’s instinct tingled.

  There was blackness stretching out in all directions, but it allowed prying eyes to look in; it turned the front of the house into a fishbowl. Taking each step cautiously to minimise noise, Luke crept over to the electronic wall mount that controlled the giant curtains. Locating the switch, he expelled all breath to listen, there was still nothing. Luke pressed the button and the curtains hummed to life, closing slowly over the window.

  Luke was still certain it had been glass smashing downstairs, if it had been Aubert he would have come to let them know.

  Where is Aubert?

  The curtains closed fully, Luke moved quickly to the top of the stairs and crouched against the top railing as he tried to peer down to the front hallway. He couldn’t get a clear view. He pulled out the Browning from his waistband and flicked off the safety. He cursed himself for not swapping the MK23 Colt for the Browning – the Colt and all the other equipment was packed into the Range Rover.

  Can I make it to the car?

  Luke had no visual on downstairs but something in his gut was telling him something wasn’t right. The Browning only had one magazine locked in, still minus the two bullets Luke had used for Razor, which left eleven bullets.

  Luke let out a deep breath, controlling his adrenaline. He started down the right-hand curl of the staircase, and then he heard it again; a subtle smash of glass.

  The noise was unmistakable; Luke now had to move quickly. It had come fro
m the rear of the house. He pushed the Browning out in front, both hands double-gripped around the weapon. Each step was placed heel to toe in quick succession, taking most of the weight in his knees to reduce noise. He didn’t want to shout out for Aubert and alert anyone to his presence. At the bottom of the stairs, Luke peered right, scanning the visible section of the lounge area, it was quiet. He moved quickly to his left and pressed his back against the archway that led into the open-plan kitchen.

  Always commit when clearing a room. Speed and surprise are the strongest elements you have. His instructor’s words played in his mind. Bracing himself, he brought the Browning up to bear and span into the kitchen.

  It was empty, the Browning scanned every inch whilst Luke moved sharply to the breakfast bar. Just as he was about to carry on moving through into the pantry something on the floor caught his eye. As Luke rounded the bar he saw the object was in fact the heel of a bare foot. Keeping the weapon aimed Luke moved cautiously around. The heel belonged to Aubert. He was barefoot and had his usual three-quarter-length trousers and shirt on. He lay face down on the floor and streaming from a wound in his head was a pool of deep red blood.

  He had been shot from behind and Luke didn’t need to check whether he was still alive. As he turned to refocus on the room his eyes caught a small hole in one of the rear kitchen windows.

  He was shot from outside.

  Luke’s heart was beating like a drum. He dropped to a crouch below the work surface level. He could now also see the rear patio door was slightly open and had a lower pane of glass missing. His mind was whirring like a computer; it was obvious that they were fully compromised. He had no idea who or how many but the patio doors meant they were in the house. A black shoe crept into the kitchen from the pantry doorway; Luke pointed the weapon roughly six feet above the foot, waiting for the individual to enter his line of fire.

  A blacked-out figure edged into the room, leading with the muzzle of a gun. Before the figure had chance to react, Luke let off a round that ripped through his respirator and split his forehead, spraying brain and skull debris across the wall. Luke moved quickly across to the archway where the man lay still. As he reached the body another figure entered the pantry, he was not expecting the scene he found and he momentarily hesitated. It gave Luke enough time to send a bullet through his top lip and out through his brain stem, killing him instantly.

  The two shots had been loud. Surprise was now no more use to him. Luke was going against every ounce of logic when shooting in a confined space but he needed each bullet to be a kill. Never go for the head, always aim for the chest; bigger target, smaller margin for error.

  The two dead men carried Carbine HK G36s, an effective tactical assault weapon. They both wore respirators which had flip-up night vision goggles attached. Flashbangs and tear gas canisters were strapped to their Kevlar body armour.

  Luke had no idea how they had located him so quickly but it was irrelevant. He knew that there would be a whole team ready to pile into the house; the two men would be an advanced search party. On the pantry wall he saw a large steel box with a black numbered box sat on top, it was the fuse box and Luke clambered over to it, keeping below eye line. Inside the box there was an array of black and red switches all connected to different see-through plastic boxes. He flicked them downwards, one by one.

  All the lights went out.

  Luke crawled back to the bodies and stripped one of them of their night vision goggles; he strapped them to his head and flicked them on. He could now see the interior of the pantry through a dull green glow. The man’s weapon had been wedged under his body as he fell; Luke started to roll him over to remove it as the pantry exploded with automatic fire.

  He dived flat onto the floor, covering his head. The noise was deafening.

  Luke forced himself to stay alert. The shattering glass meant the fire was coming from outside; it was smashing into the pantry walls and shelves, obliterating bottles and containers.

  The body he had been turning was riddled with bullets and its momentum had rolled it back onto the carbine.

  Once one option has failed, create a new one. Never re-run it. It is predictable, and predictability will kill you.

  Luke would have to forget the weapon; whoever was outside obviously had visual on the dead body. His mind ceaselessly assessed options and outcomes, re-working and trying to make them fit a strategy. He was outnumbered but he had no idea by how many. He needed to try and even up their advantage.

  A strong smell hit his nostrils, it was alcohol. He rolled over and kept flat on the floor, scanning the shelves. Aubert had obviously used the pantry as a dry storage area for a vast array of alcoholic spirits and wine. Luke’s eyes desperately searched for intact bottles. Along the far right of the bottom shelf the gun’s arc of fire had not been able to reach a cluster of spirits; rum, tequila and whiskey. Luke’s memory kicked in and he knew that the higher the alcohol percentage the more flammable the drink. A scenario and outcome aligned; he had an option. It would be a matter of seconds before the assault team hit the house.

  He had nine bullets left.

  52.

  Yes, of course I care. Dear, will you listen to me please …? Well, there is nothing I can do. Now, will you stop? You know my job, and you know that I can’t just leave. Yes… I know, I will try my hardest. Ok, I love you too.

  Mulberry let the bourbon bottle clink against the crystal glass. He hated lying to his wife; he had got home after 11 p.m. the previous evening, and had been in the office since early that morning. Now as the time approached 10 p.m. he had had a hard time explaining to her why he wouldn’t be home until much later.

  He was sure that £4 million would make up for all the lies. He had given a lot of thought to how to explain the windfall, and he was lucky that his wife never asked specifics about his work. He would say that the money was a pay-off from the service; they needed him to move on due to political changes and alterations. Then he would take his family and move somewhere hot and remote. Top of his list was Antigua. His wife had always joked about moving to the Caribbean … for once he would make a dream a reality.

  His SIS building office had started to feel more like a prison, but his operative had delivered the best news imaginable earlier that morning. They had traced a call to one of Prussias Latvik’s offices in the city; the call had been made from Buckinghamshire.

  His operative had made his own investigations and had confirmed the call was made by Seona Latvik. Mulberry guessed even before it was confirmed that the call had originated from Remy Aubert’s country estate. Aubert was a man that Group 9 had used for specific courier duties, a man whose master was money. Mulberry had made two quick phone calls. One was to the commissioner of the Metropolitan Police Force, Bernard John-Laughton, explaining the discovery of Seona Latvik in England and requesting the assistance of the Met’s firearms department SO19.

  The commissioner had agreed on the spot. Mulberry knew that Bernard John-Laughton was an advocate of public image, and with a case this high-profile he wanted his men in at the sharp end. Mulberry had told him that there was a shoot-on-sight policy: anyone at the house should be treated as an enemy of the state.

  The second phone call had been to Sir Peter, informing the great man that Seona had been located and by that evening she would be safely back in their hands. Sir Peter had sounded relieved. For once Mulberry had revelled in the charade he was selling to Sir Peter; Seona would not be anywhere safe by that evening.

  SO19 would hand Seona over to Mulberry’s operative; she would then be placed into the waiting hands of Medea.

  Mulberry leaned back and put his feet up on the desk.

  I wonder how many rooms we should have in our new beachfront house?

  53.

  Luke picked up two bottles and smashed the top stems; he then threw alcohol across both bodies and the rest up and down the rear patio and door, making sure to keep well out of eye line. He ripped three Flashbangs from the nearest body; Flashban
gs were designed to disorientate someone through a blinding flash and loud bang. The flash was to overstimulate the eye causing blindness for a few seconds and the bang disrupted hearing. Luke also knew that the chemical reaction that caused both the flash and bang produced an enormous amount of heat.

  A loud bang came from the front of the house, followed by a thump as a door was kicked in.

  Luke tucked two Flashbangs into his pockets, pulled the pin on a third and rolled it between the two bodies. He pushed away from the wall, scooping up two bottles of whiskey in one hand, and sprang through the doorway leading into the lounge.

  Bullets erupted around him and, as he hit and rolled on the floor, an almighty flash went off, followed by a thundering bang. Luke rolled into a crouch position, aiming one-handed at the far left archway of the lounge that led back out into the entrance hall.

  A whooshing noise screamed from the pantry and Luke could feel the heat as the alcohol caught light. There was no way anybody would be entering through the rear of the house.

  A thin beam of light danced around the lounge, a split second later a black masked figure emerged from the entrance hall, a small torch strapped on top of his carbine sub-machine gun.

  Luke kept low behind a sofa clutching the Browning in one hand, the two bottles in the other. He pushed up, firing one shot as he jumped the sofa and scrambled to the central fireplace. The shot missed the masked man and in return Luke received two shots, both clipping the fireplace.

  “Armed police! Down on the ground!”

  Luke could now see the bright flares in his night vision from the pantry as the fire was spreading to wooden cupboards and shelving. Luke would have to draw fire; he edged around one side of the fireplace, keeping it between him and the archway. He tossed one of the bottles out towards the window. Two more shots were let off as the masked man reacted to the movement. Both shots missed the bottle but Luke saw his chance, he swung out and fired once, catching the man in the shoulder. He yelped and dropped to one knee. A volley of bullets cracked against the fireplace. Luke circled to the other side; the pain had disorientated the gunman and he still assumed that Luke was in his previous firing position. Luke coldly edged out and put a bullet through the man’s right temple.