by Will Jordan
Mercifully, Anya returned from her brief foray then, passports in hand. She turned them over to Gondal, who quickly leafed through them, comparing each person in the room to the picture laid out before him.
Each of them possessed several fake passports under various nationalities, obtained at no small cost from a forger in Berlin who had come highly recommended to Drake. They were unlikely to pass detailed technical examination, but he knew they were at least good enough to fool the naked eye.
Satisfied with what he saw, the detective laid them down on a nearby table. ‘Well, these all look to be in order.’ He reached into his jacket and produced a cell phone. ‘You will not mind if I call your company to confirm what you told me?’
Drake resisted the urge to swallow. ‘Of course not. Be my guest.’
Gondal had started dialling before he’d even replied.
* * *
Dan Franklin awoke with a start, jolted out of sleep by the buzz of his cell phone. Opening his eyes and forcing his head up from the pillow, he glanced with bleary eyes at his bedside clock – 3.12 a.m.
Who the hell was calling him at such an hour?
It took him a moment or two to realize the ringing wasn’t coming from his work cell, which was charging on the floor beside his bed. It was his other phone. The burner. The one whose number was known only to one man – Ryan Drake.
The phone was hidden in the top drawer of his clothes bureau on the far side of the room. He could hear it buzzing again, the vibration slightly masked by the soft clothes it was nestled amongst.
If that phone was ringing, it meant Drake needed his help.
‘Shit,’ he said under his breath, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed as the ringing continued.
* * *
Gondal said nothing as he stood there with the phone to his ear, and indeed, all activity in the warehouse seemed to have ceased. Standing as close as he was, Drake could just hear the faint buzz as the line rang out.
The two detectives exchanged a look. The kind of look that can only pass between two people who have worked together for a long time and know each other well.
Taking it as a signal to be on his guard, Mahsud began pacing slowly around the Bukhanka like a shark circling its prey. As he passed the cab, he glanced inside the open driver’s window, taking note of the grimy, worn interior, before heading towards the rear doors. His hand was at his hip again, ready to draw down at the first sign of trouble.
Drake knew he could do nothing to stop the man without arousing suspicion.
He could feel a pair of eyes on him, and guessed who it was. Looking over at Anya, he saw the woman make a small but purposeful nod towards the detective. He didn’t need to be a mind reader to know exactly what she was thinking.
If he opens those doors, you need to kill him.
* * *
The phone was still ringing as Franklin worked frantically to heave himself out of bed. Weakened by spinal surgery that he was still recovering from, he was hardly light on his feet at the best of times, but the mornings were always the worst. It was as if his legs had to wake up independently of his brain.
And today was no day for sleeping in.
Gritting his teeth, he gripped his bedside table and used it to lever himself up into a standing position. His legs felt heavy and numb beneath him, like two lumps of dead flesh that weren’t connected to his body, but he was upright.
Turning towards the source of the noise, he began to move, throwing one leg out in front and shifting his weight forward. Moving, one step at a time. The feeling was beginning to return now as the blood started pumping, the numbness gradually receding as if it were draining out through his feet.
Another step, and another. The phone was still ringing. How long had it been going? He didn’t know.
Another step. He tried to kick his left leg out in front of him, tried to increase his pace, but his foot came down awkwardly and he went over on his ankle. Losing his balance, he pitched forward and fell, landing heavily on the wooden floor.
‘Goddamn it!’ he cried out in frustration.
* * *
Crouched down inside the rusting, dirty, oil-smelling cargo compartment, Keira Frost stared across the shadowy little enclosure at the young boy, bound and gagged, leaning against the opposite wall. His eyes were big and white in the gloom, staring right back at her, his chest rising and falling with short, rapid breaths.
No doubt he was well aware of the danger of discovery, and what it would mean for him. The automatic she had trained on him left him in no doubt about that.
Reaching up, Frost held a finger to her lips, imploring him to keep quiet. He couldn’t cry out, but there were plenty of ways for one to make noise in such a small, metallic space. She could only hope he trusted the police even less than he trusted them, or that he knew what would happen to him if he tried to alert them.
Just outside, Drake watched with growing desperation as Mahsud closed in on the van’s rear doors. It was clear now that the lack of response to Gondal’s call was prompting him to search the vehicle, and that any protests would only fuel his suspicions.
At that moment, Gondal himself turned around to regard Drake. The look on his face had changed now, as if some subconscious switch had just been flicked. The amiable, kindly old man look had disappeared from his eyes, replaced by a shrewd, calculating intelligence that Drake knew had been lurking just beneath the surface the whole time.
It was clear Gondal now considered the call a waste of time, and the people in this warehouse had gone from being a routine line of enquiry to possible murder suspects. And any second, he would act on his suspicions.
There was no choice but to act first. They would have to take out the two police officers as quietly as possible, hide their bodies and just hope that they had completed their mission by the time the men’s absence was noticed. It was a gamble, but it was all they had.
Two more needless deaths on his conscience.
Almost without being aware of it, Drake found himself reaching for the automatic hidden at the small of his back. Nearby, Anya did the same thing.
* * *
Franklin looked up at that bureau that seemed to tower over him like the summit of some indomitable mountain. He had landed hard on the cold, unyielding floor, and knew he’d be left with some telling bruises tomorrow, but none of that mattered now.
All that mattered was getting to the phone. Drake’s life might well rest on what he did in the next few seconds.
Seized by a sudden surge of desperate energy, Franklin crawled forward the last couple of feet, then reached out and gripped the second drawer handle on the bureau, using it as leverage to pull himself up from the floor. His muscles were trembling from the exertion as he pulled himself higher, higher with each passing moment, managing to get one foot planted firmly on the floor.
Gripping the top drawer, he yanked it open and thrust his hand inside, managing to close his fingers around the cheap plastic body of the phone before slumping back down to the floor once again.
He didn’t care now. Stabbing the accept call button, he held the phone to his ear, somehow forcing his breathing under control long enough to speak two words.
‘Apex Deliveries.’
* * *
Half a world away, Detective Gondal froze on the spot, caught in the midst of lowering his phone to cancel the call. Holding his free hand out, he snapped his fingers to get his colleague’s attention as he raised the device back up to his ear. Sure enough, Mahsud paused by the van’s rear doors, waiting to see what would happen next.
Drake too had stopped just as he was reaching for his weapon, staring at the older man in tense, fraught silence. He wanted to punch the air in triumph, but knew it was far too early for celebrations. Even if Franklin had answered the call, there was no guarantee Gondal would buy what he was selling.
‘Good morning, sir,’ he began, assuming the same pleasant, amiable manner he’d used with Drake. ‘My name is Detective Saji
d Gondal with the Punjab Police Department. I’m calling about some of your employees based in Rawalpindi.’
‘Police? Is everything all right?’ Franklin gasped, managing to translate his physical discomfort and fatigue into shocked concern. ‘Has something happened to them?’
‘Not at all, sir. They’re with me right now. I am actually following up on another matter, and was hoping to eliminate them from our enquiries.’
‘I see…’ Franklin allowed that statement to trail off. ‘So how can I help you?’
‘I have four of them here with me. I would appreciate it if you could name each of them in turn, and perhaps describe their appearance to me. That should be enough to confirm who they are.’
‘Sure thing. Well, let’s see… There’s Bob Douglas, the team leader. He’s late-thirties, tall, dark hair, green eyes. Then there’s Carl Masterson. Big guy, shaved head, olive skin. Does a lot of heavy lifting. Sarah McCord is early thirties, with brownish hair and… freckles across her nose.’
Drake braced himself for what was coming. Already he could sense where Franklin’s description was going to go off the rails, and this was it. He could only hope his friend’s ability to bullshit and improvise was as good as his memory.
‘And the last one should be Kate Fisk. She’s small, short dark hair and a piercing in her nose.’
Gondal frowned at this, glancing over at Anya. She was the odd one out. The only one whose appearance and passport didn’t come close to matching Franklin’s description.
‘You are sure about that?’ Gondal asked, and Drake winced inwardly.
‘Well, I…’ He trailed off, no doubt wondering what the hell was going on. He and Drake had agreed the cover story in advance, and Franklin had memorized the team’s false identities just in case they encountered a situation like this where he had to vouch for them.
What he hadn’t been prepared for was the change in their set-up. From his point of view, it was like trying to fight an opponent blind, with one hand tied behind his back.
Before Drake could say or do anything to intervene, Anya piped up. ‘Kate was taken ill with the flu just before we left the States,’ she said helpfully, speaking loud enough that Franklin could hear her voice down the line.
‘Oh yeah, of course,’ Franklin said, immediately grasping the situation and running with it like the pro he was. ‘I’m sorry, detective, but it’s early in the morning here and I haven’t had nearly enough coffee. Kate had to bail out at the last minute. I can’t remember the name of her replacement off the top of my head, but I know she was tall, with blonde hair and blue eyes. If you give me some time to check our personnel listings, I’m sure I can dig it out.’
‘That won’t be necessary, sir,’ Gondal said, giving Drake a thoughtful, contemplative look. ‘You’ve been very helpful. My office will be in touch if they need anything else.’
‘Sure thing. You have a great day, sir,’ Franklin added, playing his middle manager role to perfection. Drake could have kissed the man if he’d been within reach.
Ending the call, Gondal scooped up the passports and held them out to Drake. ‘I am sorry to have troubled you, Mr Douglas. But I appreciate your cooperation.’
‘No problem at all,’ Drake lied as he took the documents.
‘You will be here, if we have any follow-up questions?’
‘Of course. Until the company pays for some decent accommodation, at least,’ he added with a forced smile. ‘Keep the card anyway. You can contact us through that number if you need anything else.’
‘I will,’ Gondal said, lingering a moment longer as if he intended to say something more. Instead, he released Drake from his gaze and slipped his sunglasses back on. ‘In the meantime, I’m afraid we have a lot more calls to make before the day is out.’
With Mahsud accompanying him, he headed for the exit at a measured, unhurried pace, mercifully leaving Drake and the others alone.
‘Oh, and one more thing, Mr Douglas,’ he added, pausing by the door.
‘What’s that?’
He fixed Drake with a hard, direct stare. ‘Stay out of trouble while you’re in Pakistan.’
Somehow Drake managed an amused smile. ‘I intend to.’
Nodding, the older man turned away and slipped through the wicket door, allowing it to swing shut behind him. Only when they heard the sound of a vehicle engine starting up outside did Mason risk opening the laptop linked to the outside security cameras.
‘They’re leaving,’ he announced, lowering his head as the tension finally dissipated. ‘We’re good.’
McKnight let out a breath. ‘Thank Christ for that.’
Approaching the van, Drake slapped the side a couple of times, signalling that it was safe to come out. Sure enough, the doors popped open immediately and Frost emerged from the darkened interior, clutching her weapon. Yasin was still sitting on the floor where she’d left him.
‘You all right?’ Mason asked as the young woman arched her back.
‘Might need a new pair of underwear after that,’ she observed drily. ‘Jesus, talk about a close call. I thought we had Columbo on our asses back there.’ She looked over at Drake, for once appearing genuinely impressed. ‘Remind me to buy Dan a beer next time I see him. The guy earned it today.’
Drake only wished he could share their new-found sense of relief. ‘I wouldn’t break out the champagne any time soon.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Those guys weren’t Punjabi police – they were field operatives.’
That was enough to well and truly kill her buzz. ‘Spooks?’
He nodded grimly, seeing Gondal for what he was. The crumpled, ill-fitting suit, the bumbling, affable mannerisms, the unassuming presence; all of it was a carefully cultivated facade intended to throw people off, to lower their guard and make mistakes. Mistakes he could exploit.
‘How the hell can you—’
‘Ryan is right,’ Anya cut in, eyeing Drake with what might have been grudging approval. ‘They were lying when they claimed to be police officers. My guess is they belong to the Pakistani Intelligence Service.’
Mason frowned, failing to see the connection. ‘But why would the ISI care about two security guards going missing?’
Frost, however, had already connected the dots, even if she didn’t like the picture they painted. ‘Aw, Christ. Don’t you get it, Cole?’
‘They weren’t security guards,’ Drake finished for her.
Only now was he beginning to realize just how wrong he’d been last night. Those two men posing as neighbourhood security were, in all likelihood, ISI operatives themselves. Perhaps the Pakistanis already knew about the existence of the safe house, and were using field teams to covertly monitor the place. Or perhaps they had been given the location of the meeting in advance and were trying to scope it out.
Whatever the reason, Drake and Anya had wandered right into them last night. If he’d allowed them to go free, they would have returned to their masters and told them everything that had happened, blowing the entire operation out of the water. Only her swift and brutally pragmatic actions had prevented it.
He glanced over at Anya, meeting her gaze for a brief moment. He didn’t have to say what he was thinking. She knew.
The rest of his team, however, didn’t hesitate to voice their thoughts.
‘Jesus, if the ISI’s all over this, we’re screwed,’ Mason said.
‘What if they’ve got us surrounded already?’ McKnight wondered aloud.
Frost too was seeing the problems that seemed to be multiplying by the hour. ‘First the Agency, then the Pakistanis? This is fucked. We’ll be walking into a shitstorm tonight.’
‘Then we need to cut and run now,’ Mason concluded.
‘All right, listen up! All of you,’ Drake spoke up. ‘Calm down. Nobody’s surrounding us. If they knew for sure we were involved last night, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation now.’
As frightening a notion as it was to contemplate,
Drake knew the ISI wouldn’t fuck around when it came to the deaths of their own operatives. Gondal would have come in here with an armed tactical team if he had any real evidence.
Frost shook her head. ‘But they—’
‘Obviously they know something’s up,’ he conceded. ‘They suspected us enough to drive out here, but we’re just one lead out of hundreds. They can’t follow every single one, and by the time they figure out what we’re really doing here, we’ll be long gone.’
Frost folded her arms, eyeing him dubiously. ‘So what are you suggesting?’
‘We stick to the plan.’
It was a gamble to be sure, but then so was just about every aspect of this operation. Anyway, if Gondal had already allocated some kind of surveillance package to the warehouse, there could be few more incriminating sights than the entire team evacuating just minutes after his inspection. Their best option, as incongruous as it seemed, was to tough it out until it was time to leave.
Knowing he needed to get the others moving, he added, ‘Cole, get yourself cleaned up. Sam, prep the van and load it up. Anya, take the kid into one of the offices at the back and make sure he’s secured.’
‘I’ll take him,’ Frost spoke up.
He shook his head. ‘I need you to check everything’s still in place with the Judas code. Anya, he’s all yours.’
‘Fine,’ Anya replied, not looking happy about it.
She was about to clamber inside the van to retrieve their prisoner when Frost stepped into her path, defiant and protective even now. ‘You’re not going to kill him.’
One curious aspect of Anya’s personality that Drake had come to understand was that she always held a certain respect for people who stuck by what they believed in, even if she didn’t agree with it. She had never enjoyed a good relationship with Keira Frost – their personalities were too different for that – and yet he saw a glimmer of that same grudging respect now as she regarded the young technical specialist.
