by J. D. Weston
He stepped slowly down the steps and opened the door fully. He saw that the biometric security panel had been shorted and the double doors had been forced in.
A small corridor, ten meters long, was in front of him. It led to a T. He walked to the end and drew his weapon again, looking both ways. To the right, a set of concrete stairs led down, and a small ancient elevator with black wrought iron gates sat beside it. To the left was a series of room entrances and one large set of doors. Harvey guessed the double doors led to the rear of the auction house back stage, and the other doors were perhaps storage rooms or offices.
Harvey turned right and stood at the top of the stairs. He peered down. He could see two floors below between the iron bannister. The lowest floor was lit dimly by a yellowish glow. Harvey began the walk down the steps, slowly and quietly, as Julios had taught him all those years ago. He kept to the shadows where possible. The first floor was clear. But as he stepped onto the stairs that led to basement two, he heard the faint muffled sound of men’s voices.
He checked back up the stairs, he was still alone.
He stepped to the concrete floor of basement two and into the yellow light. Another biometric panel had its wires pulled from the bottom of the unit on the wall. The lights on the security panel were off.
The lights that lit the dark corridor were a string of bulbs fixed to the ceiling beside the wall. They cast two or three shadows of Harvey as he made his way along. The walls were tiled like an old underground station. The white tiles took a yellowish glow from the dim lights above, and every sound he made was echoed in the still space.
There was only one set of doors at the end of the corridor. They were large windowless double doors, with yet another biometric panel and three heavy duty locks at the top, middle and bottom. The doors opened outwards judging by the closers, so Harvey stepped to one side and listened. He waited a full minute, another of Julios’ lessons.
The voices he’d heard were clearer now, but still hushed and urgent.
“Stimson just messaged me, go go go.”
“Okay, I’m going as quick as I can.”
“We should have been in and out by now, what’s taking so long?”
“You can’t rush this, Lucas. If this doesn’t go right, it’ll be all bang and no buddha, know what I mean?”
“If you don’t get it right, all bang and no buddha will be written on your headstone, pal.”
“One minute, why don’t you clear the room, give me some space,” the second man said.
“What happened to the explosion outside we were waiting for?”
“I don’t know, do I?” said Larson. “But Stimson said go, so just bloody go.”
“Move out the way, I can’t see anything in here.”
Harvey removed his belt, and quietly fastened it around the two door handles so it couldn’t be opened from the inside.
“I’m not leaving you alone, Johnson, you don’t exactly have a great track record do you?”
“You hired me to do a job, Lucas.“
“So shut up and do it.”
“How good are you at running?”
“Why?”
“Because in twenty seconds this vault door’s coming off, and I have no idea how big the bang will be.”
“I thought you’d done it before?” Larson’s voice was anxious.
“I have, well, I’ve seen it done, but we didn’t use as much as this.”
“What?”
“Ten seconds, run.”
Harvey heard banging on the doors. “It’s locked. Let us out. Help!”
Harvey took a slow walk back to the staircase, casually checked up the stairs and walked up to the dark first floor. He ignored the screaming and banging and waited for the blast with his ears and eyes covered.
The explosion was deafening inside the tiled space. It came with a wave of power that seemed to rock the building. A cloud of dust found its way up the stairs, and Harvey saw the yellow lights had been blown out. It was pitch dark. The noise had been deafening, a jumble of audible carnage. Harvey pulled his shirt up to his mouth and walked back down the steps.
The air was black, dust and grit stuck to his watering eyes, and the smell of concrete and lime was heavy in the air.
He stepped off the stairs, and his foot found a large piece of broken concrete in the darkness. Harvey pulled a phone out his pocket to give him some idea of where he was treading. He cursed himself; he normally carried a Maglite in his pocket, a small two-cell torch that had been more than useful on several occasions. But it had been lost, maybe in the taxi crash, he didn’t know.
Slowly working his way along the short corridor, he stepped over the broken double doors and around the concrete blocks that had formed the wall. He drew closer to the vault. The huge, thick steel door had been ripped from the vault by the hinges, but the lock still clung to its counterpart, so the door itself leaned up against the entrance.
Harvey saw a leg on the floor beside the vault. He knew the room must be covered in body parts, but there was no need to look. He’d seen dismembered bodies before and it wasn’t pretty. He shone the phone into the vault.
The space was ten feet by eight feet inside, Harvey guessed. On one side were shelves, which were only hanging by the fixings on the far end. The ends of the shelves closest to the door now sat on the floor among scattered paperwork. On the left-hand side was a rack that held paintings. A felt base formed the plinth for the large frames. Dividers kept the paintings from touching and held them upright. There were only four paintings, each one was covered in a shiny purple cloth. Harvey had expected see more of a haul, but he guessed the reality was that vaults in auction houses didn’t store valuables for long, the idea was to move them on.
There was a small wooden box on the floor below the broken shelves, partly hidden by the fallen shelves. It was ten inches square and beautifully finished. A layer of dust had already begun to settle on its surface.
Harvey bent, picked the box up and felt the weight. He guessed at three or four kilos, not heavy, but solid. He opened the two small brass catches on the front and lifted the lid. The box was lined with a soft cushioning and a small square of fine green silk lay over the centre.
Harvey lifted the corner of the material and exposed the perfectly smooth, ancient, green-stone artefact underneath. The two-century-old, little, fat buddha laid cross-legged in the box and stared up at Harvey. It was only six inches tall and perhaps four inches across the belly.
Harvey looked around the vault, then made his exit. Outside would be crawling with police by now. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and considered his options. He was wanted for murder, a car with his prints on had been suspiciously abandoned outside, and now he was walking into the street, where the police would be looking for him, with an ancient priceless buddha.
He took one step onto the stairs.
“It’s a dilemma isn’t it, Mr Stone?” said a woman's voice. It was the voice of a confident woman who was used to having her own way.
“Not really.”
“You can’t walk out of here with that,” she said.
Harvey searched the darkness above him for the source of the voice.
“Why don’t you let me take it off you?” she said. “You might get away, you might not. I just hope the police don’t shoot you on sight before they know you’re one of them.”
Harvey didn’t reply. Patience.
“You should respect your betters, Harvey, I thought John would have taught you that.”
“He taught me you need to earn respect.”
“And haven’t I earned it?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”
“Ah come on, Harvey, we both know where the brains lie.”
The woman stepped into the light from the ground floor above and looked down at Harvey. It was the woman from the manor house.
“Bring me the buddha, Harvey. This’ll be over soon, and you can go back to playing cops and robbers.”
“I thin
k we’re playing a pretty good game of it right now.”
“I’m not your average robber, Harvey.”
“I’m not your average cop.”
“You’re not the average anything, are you?”
Harvey didn’t reply. Her voice was mature yet had a youthful element of fun. She was well spoken, like she was used to being around wealthy individuals, but hadn’t been born into wealth.
“I’ve always wanted to chat with you. I always thought it would be nice to sit and talk one day, Harvey, you know? Really talk.”
“I’m not really the talkative type.“
“And that's what makes you intriguing. A man like you could do well with a girl like me.”
“I’ve managed pretty well without you so far.”
“Join me, Harvey. Don’t you miss it? The chase? This thrill of the hunt?”
“I never stopped hunting.”
“But you feed someone else now.”
“I feed myself.”
“But where’s the next meal coming from?”
Harvey didn’t reply. The woman stepped down onto the first step.
“There you are,” she said, “in all your glory. I’ve watched you for years, you know? Admired you.”
“I would have remembered you.”
“Oh, you remember me, Harvey. I’m the one that was always one step ahead of you.”
“Nobody springs to mind.”
“I have friends too, friends that may be of interest to you.”
Harvey didn’t reply.
“Come closer.”
Harvey walked slowly up the stairs to the first floor then stood still.
“That’s it. Such a powerful man. Tell me how it felt.”
“How what felt?”
“Oh, so many things, Harvey, where to start? Tell me about our mutual friend, Thomson.”
“Terry Thomson?”
“Yes, Terence, not his spoiled little whining son. Terry was a king, how did it feel to destroy him?”
Harvey didn’t reply.
“Did you feel his power?”
“Not really.”
“No? That surprises me, Harvey. Did he fight?”
“No, he opened his arms to it.”
“He didn’t cry or beg?”
“One of the few that didn’t.”
“I hear respect.”
“No, you don’t. He was in the way. He needed stopping.”
“I’m glad you did, stop him, that is. He was messing up my plans, he was always interfering.”
She knew him. Harvey’s memory for faces was good, but he couldn't place her past the manor house.
“And Sergio? That was messy, Harvey, even by your standards.”
Harvey didn’t reply.
“Are you at peace now, Harvey? I hear Mr Sayan filled in a few blanks for you. Was it the answers you’ve been searching for, Harvey?”
Harvey didn’t reply.
“You must be disappointed in your friend. Do you feel betrayed?”
“I don’t feel anything-“
“He taught you well then, Julios I mean.”
Harvey didn’t reply, but he could hear his own breathing loud against the solid tiled walls.
“Tell me how you feel now, Harvey. How do you remember Julios? As the man that carved you from an angry, broken little boy to the masterpiece you are now? Or do you remember him as the traitor that lied to you your entire life?”
Harvey didn’t reply, he wouldn’t be pulled down, not now.
“Was anything ever true? I can’t imagine how you must feel. So much doubt.”
“It won’t work, Stimson.”
“Ah, clever boy. You’ve put two and two together.”
“That’s why nobody ever found you, isn’t it, all these years. They searched for a man, a man that never existed.”
“Clever boy, I’m surprised nobody else ever figured it out, to be honest. It’s not like I ever burst into an armoured van and stole cash or a bank.”
“Diamonds,” said Harvey. “Always diamonds and jewels.“
“And anything that glitters. So pretty.” She said the last words with a girly tone.
“And you never killed anyone, impressive.”
“No need for that, Harvey, not if you do the job right.”
“I thought this place was a little low on security.”
“They’re all locked away in a storeroom, alive for now, someone will find them when we’re gone. No harm done.”
“So why the bombs?”
The woman’s face sank and her smiled dropped to an emotionless blank expression.
“Not my doing, Harvey, you know me, I’d never-“
“No, you wouldn’t. It’s okay, you don’t have to convince me.”
Stimson didn’t reply.
“It’s your daughter, isn’t it?”
Stimson’s head jerked up to Harvey.
“The buddha was never for you, it was for Al Sayan, to get your daughter back.”
“It was the only way he could get it,” she snapped.
“And if somebody wants something priceless, there’s only one person to call, right?”
“I refused at first.”
“But he took Angel, didn’t he? And he took Hague’s kid, a bloke like that would never convert, am I right?”
“Help me, Harvey.”
“That's strong, all things considered.”
“He has more, explosives, I mean.”
“The warehouse is empty.”
“Don’t be a fool, Harvey, you saw the box.”
“The box?”
“The wooden crate. You don’t need to read German to know what it said, do you?”
Harvey didn’t reply.
“How many plastic explosives do you think he had in each of those taxis?”
“He told me there was twenty-five kilos in the one I was in.”
“And how much did the box say?”
“A hundred.”
“Plus, of course, he has a small army of devout men, all just dying to help.”
“Not funny.”
“I’m sorry, poor Denver. That was unnecessary.”
“Tell me what the plan was.”
“The exchange?”
Harvey didn’t reply.
“We meet, I give him the buddha, I get Angel back.”
“She’s a sweet girl.”
“You saw her?”
“We shared the same accommodation.”
“The warehouse?”
“She’s safe.”
“Safe? None of us are safe if Al Sayan does get the buddha.”
“So let's get him first.”
“I want to see Angel.”
“Take me to Al Sayan.”
“Angel first.”
“Then what?” asked Harvey.
“You give me the buddha, and I take it to Al Sayan.”
“In return for what? He doesn’t have Angel anymore.”
“He doesn’t want Angel, he wants the buddha.” She sighed loud in the stairwell. “He says it’ll fund his campaign to cleanse Britain.”
“What’s to stop me walking out of here and handing you over?”
“You won't get Al Sayan, and he’ll bomb the crap out of whatever he needs to get what he wants. Could you live with that? Knowing you had the chance to save lives?”
“You want to see Angel?”
“Or you don’t get Al Sayan.”
“She’s close.”
“So show me, I need to see her.” It wasn’t the demand of a scheming criminal mastermind on the brink of walking off with a priceless antique, it was the plea of a broken-hearted mother who’d had her daughter kidnapped by terrorists.
The door behind Stimson opened, and light flooded the dim corridor where she stood.
“Mummy?”
“Angel?”
“Don’t move, Stimson.” Melody walked through the door carrying the girl. The girl reached her hand out towards her mother. Stimson took a step towards her,
but Melody moved back to the doorway. “I told you not to move.”
“Mummy.”
“It’s okay, darling, Mummy’s here. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
The girl shook her head.
“Are you hurt? Has anybody hurt you?”
The girl shook her head,
“You’ve seen her, now take us to Al Sayan,” said Harvey.
“Honey, mummy has to go somewhere, but this lady will look after you, just for a little while longer.”
Harvey took a step up the stairs towards Stimson as her back was turned to Melody and the child. He felt the nuzzle of a gun in his back and closed his eyes.
“She’ll be safe with me,” said Melody. “Harvey let’s go.”
“I seem to have met your friend, Stimson.”
“Ah yes, my private security.” She looked over his shoulder at the man standing behind Harvey.
“You going to call him off?”
“I need some security, Harvey, I’m sure you can empathise.”
“Tell him to drop the gun.”
“No idle threats, Harvey.”
“I don’t make threats.”
“He’s good you know, one of the best bodyguards a girl can have.”
“I’m sure he is. Call him off. We have Angel.”
“Security is his blood, you know?”
“Great, call him off.”
“I think you two will get along.”
“Not with a gun in my back we won’t.”
“True. Adeo.”
Harvey felt the dull point of the gun being removed from his back.
“Adeo?” asked Harvey.
“That's right, Harvey, Adeo.”
“I told you it’s in his blood, he comes from a long line of highly dangerous men.“
Adeo gave a deep and short laugh behind him. It had the depth of a man with a broad chest, a large neck and wide shoulders. It was a laugh much like Julios’. In fact, it was nearly exactly the same.
“You can catch up later, I’m sure you have a lot to talk about,” said Stimson. “Let's go.”
Melody disappeared from sight back outside. “All clear,” she said over the comms.
Harvey walked up the stairs. Once again, his mind rallied through his memories of Julios, who’d told Harvey his brother was dead. This time, Harvey channelled his anger. He let it flow through him, feed his tired muscles, and feed his hunger for Al Sayan.
He stepped outside into the bright daylight, still carrying the box.
