A Deal to Die For

by Albert Able

  Alex did not hesitate and carefully squeezed the trigger of his own gun and watched with satisfaction as the perfect shot made a neat hole in the left temple of the gunman’s head, sending a spray of blood and brain across Mia’s immaculately ironed table cloth behind him. A second rapidly fired shot slammed into the gunman’s neck as he crashed into the blooded telephone table, which shattered under his dead weight, to lay with a surprised expression in his already dead eyes.

  With two strides Alex was bending over Mia; a quick assessment told him that she was in a desperate state with blood spurting from the shattered knee joint.

  At that moment Igor appeared at the door. “My God, what have they done to her?”

  “Here, help me with her,” Alex pleaded, his own pulse still racing from his brush with death.

  In spite of the fact that Mia had drifted into unconsciousness, the movement of gently rolling her on to her back caused her to scream in agony again.

  That was when they found the wound to her abdomen. The bullet must have entered from the front, almost certainly damaging some of her internal organs as it passed thorough her body. The trickle of almost black blood told Alex that her liver was probably ruptured.

  “Better call an ambulance Igor, she’s going to need some urgent attention.”

  Alex swiftly applied a tourniquet to the left leg where the blood was freely pumping onto the floor. The right leg was also smashed but did not appear to be bleeding in the same way.

  There was little else they could do for her; it was up to the medics now.

  Mia groaned again, her eyes flickered, her face twisted with pain as she focused. “Oh Alex, thank God it’s you. What happened to those terrible men?”

  “They won’t be bothering you or anybody else any more,” Alex reassured her.

  “You were right,” Mia whimpered, “they want those boxes.” She coughed and the pain raked her body. “I didn’t tell them anything. Do you think Dieter would have been proud of me?”

  Alex held Mia’s hand. “Dieter would indeed have been proud of you and so am I.”

  The wail of the ambulance siren could just be heard.

  “Please don’t leave me.” Mia pleaded to Alex, gripping his hand weakly.

  “Don’t you worry Mia, I’ll make sure you get the best attention and at the same clinic that Ernst is going to.” Igor leaned across smiling encouragement. “This ambulance will take you to the Accident and Emergency Hospital in Moscow for initial treatment, then I will have you airlifted to the clinic in St Petersburg.” He looked at Alex as Mia started to cough again and the dark blood from the exit wound in her back oozed through the makeshift pad Alex had applied.

  After that they waited in silence until the Paramedics arrived who wasted little time in carefully moving Mia onto a stretcher and to the ambulance. The flashing emergency light briefly illuminated the trees and houses as it accelerated away.

  Alex and Igor made their way back to the minibus.

  “Out of curiosity, what did you do with the driver?” Alex asked Igor as they approached the gunmen’s car.

  “Yes well, seems he had another gun and tried to pull it on me, so I had to smack him on the head with the pistol, then I tied him to the steering wheel and left him in Ernst’s charge,” Igor cocked his head to one side as they approached the car.

  The driver had been wearing a pair of brightly coloured bracers and was now tied by the neck to the steering wheel with one strand; his hands tied together with the other. One hand had a bloody wound still dripping blood down the man’s trousers and over his brightly polished shoes.

  Looking extremely harassed and grateful for the support, Ernst leaned against the bonnet of the car while Gilda, the Pulaski Dame, stood legs apart, scowling down at the bleeding driver. She explained the situation to Igor in her rapid dispassionate tone.

  Apparently the driver had managed to release one of his hands and, using the stiletto knife strapped to his ankle, was on the verge of cutting himself free. He had rightly judged that Ernest would not have the courage to shoot him, but unfortunately for the driver, Gilda, who had just arrived at the car to assist Ernest, had no such scruples. However, rather than make a lot of noise by shooting the hapless driver she took the gun from Ernest and pointing it at the man’s crotch demanded he pass over the knife. Shrugging indifferently he made to pass it to Gilda, then in a flash tried to slash the hand holding the pistol but Gilda had expected the move and flipped the barrel of her gun at the knife sending it spinning from the driver’s hand. She completed the move with a violent swipe at his hand with the butt of the gun. The sound of breaking bone preceded the roar of pain.

  Gilda explained. “Caused a bit of a cut to his hand,” she concluded indifferently.

  “Thank you, Gilda, you’ve both done very well.” Igor smiled at the desolate Ernst. “Do you mind taking Ernst back to the minibus? We’ll sort this out now.”

  The Pulaski Dame nodded agreement, immediately passed the pistol to Igor and then gently took Ernst by the arm.

  “I recognise that driver. He was one of the men who collected the metal cases from my house.” Ernst looked at Igor, “How badly have they hurt Mia?” Ernst looked as though he were about to collapse.

  “She is quite poorly but the paramedic reckons she will be just fine in time,” Igor lied.

  Ernst smiled weakly and allowed himself to be led slowly back to the minibus fifty metres away.

  Their next problem was what to do with the bodies. They had kept the two dead gunmen’s bodies in the apartment out of sight of the Paramedics by dragging them into the bedroom, but now something had to be done with them.

  “I suggest that we drive this car close to the apartment entrance. We put the two dead men in it and then we release the driver - let him find a home for them, eh?” Then Igor, scratching his head, added philosophically: “Or of course if you want to, you could just finish him off. I’ll leave that up to you.”

  “It’s a tempting idea,” Alex smiled and turned back to the mini bus, “but I reckon if we let him go back with his mates in the trunk of the car, his boss will do the job for us.”

  ***

  Following Alex’s visit to GCHQ, Lydia Rowland determined to find out precisely what Graham Watkins had been working on and so had spent the last, almost sleepless forty-eight hours deep in the basement archives of GCHQ, systematically searching through the papers and the files Graham had been working on immediately before his murder.

  Almost by accident she discovered that he had programmed his computer to flag any accidents or unusual news items involving technicians or scientists.

  Near to the top, the list of items flagged up the death of two nuclear scientists in a mystery explosion somewhere in India. It caught her eye and although it didn’t seem to fit into the other security issues Graham had been concentrating on, she printed it out anyway.

  In this way she patiently pieced together a most alarming dossier based on Graham’s findings. Finally satisfied that she had the full picture of his research, she telephoned the Boss.

  “I believe I have the answer to Graham’s murder,” she blurted out, “or at least I know what he wanted to tell you.” She was exhausted and close to tears.

  “Just take it easy, Lydia. First, tell me where are you calling from?” the Boss asked cautiously.

  “From my secure line in the office!” She swallowed back the tears.

  “I see.” The Boss thought for a moment “You’ve done really well and I don’t want to worry you any more.” He tried to calm her. “The only problem is that I’m not sure if your phones are secure. I know you are pretty much exhausted but do you think you could quickly jot down the basic facts and fax it to me?”

  Half an hour later Henshaw handed the Boss a faxed message from Lydia Rowland.

  The note was in Lydia’s
neat handwriting:

  ‘Graham had discovered the connection between two Vietnamese electronic specialists killed when a helicopter exploded in mid air and a department manager mysteriously killed in a separate accident. All were employed by SKY-SEC and all involved in their secret experimental military satellite communications technology.

  Since then I have also noted the death of two nuclear scientists killed in an explosion somewhere in Bombay but I can’t see a connection at this time.

  SKY-SEC supplies microchips and printed circuits to most of the commercial satellite builders and increasingly for military satellites. They were also responsible for the installation of the security system here at the new GCHQ!!

  Apparently Graham did a deep search of all the files and among the mountain of facts and figures that emerged was the record of a press report being suppressed by a ‘D-Notice’ preventing it from being published under the Official Secrets Act.

  Seems that the two young scientists were excessively proud of their work and bragged in the report that their technology was so unique, ‘they could use it to rule the world if they wanted to!’

  Do you think our security here has been compromised? What could be so important that they would need to kill Graham?

  Lydia

  The Boss stared at the empty fireplace for a few moments before scribbling a short note. He rang the bell, Henshaw appeared in an instant. “Send this to Hans de Wolf right away with a copy of Lydia’s fax and copy both to Alex care off Pulaski International, please.” Henshaw vanished with the pieces of paper.

  ***

  Ernst dozed in the minibus as they headed back to Moscow.

  “If the boxes have been flown to India, there seems little point in us staying in Moscow any longer, what do you think?” Igor queried quietly, not wanting to disturb the frail dispatcher.

  Alex agreed and while he was jubilant at discovering the Syndicate contact number, he was increasingly worried about Igor and ultimately about Sophie’s involvement. Alex, however, couldn’t quite figure the connection with the death of Graham Watkins in London, SKY-SEC and the Syndicate, but was certain somehow that it wouldn’t be long before he did. It was also abundantly clear to Alex that the Syndicate were responsible for the missing nuclear devices and the murders in Moscow, but he still had no real clue as to where they were operating from or what they might attempt next.

  The dilemma was trying to establish the Syndicate’s prime objective. “I think you’re right, Igor, we should all get back to St Petersburg ASAP. Don’t forget Ernst here has an important appointment to keep.” Alex smiled at Ernst.

  They were driven straight to the airport and managed to get seats on the last flight to St Petersburg.

  Alex spent most of the time writing a series of notes, which he intended faxing as soon as they were back in Igor’s office. It was three in the morning when Alex slipped the last fax into the machine.

  Yawning loudly, Igor casually looked at his watch. “There is a spare bed at my town apartment just around the corner.” He suggested. “We should try to grab a little sleep now.”

  Alex looked at his own watch. “Good Lord, I can’t argue with that.”

  ***

  Sophie had made all the appropriate objections to being bundled off to the country and supposedly out of the way of any trouble, and in spite of the indifferent reports for the early April weather, she was secretly more excited about the prospect of having a few days with her friend, Sacha.

  Although Sacha Drumenco was only a few years older than Sophie, she had married at the age of sixteen and was now the proud mother of two energetic teenage boys who kept her fully occupied. So when Yuri telephoned to ask if Sophie could join them for a few days, Sacha was equally delighted and jumped at the chance of a few rare ‘girlie days out’.

  Sacha telephoned her mother. “Mum, Sophie is going to stay with me for a few days at the lodge. It’s the first kayak training session of the season for the boys, so would you mind taking them to the camp on your own? It would give me a bit of a break too, if you wouldn’t mind?”

  “Of course not, I’d be delighted,” her mum enthused. “Who knows? Without you to chaperone me continually I might just get seduced by one of those lonely heart kayak instructors?” She chuckled down the telephone.

  ***

  The computer whirred and bleeped, an automatically transmitted fax message appeared seconds later on Rudi’s desk.

  The crippled claw of his hand reached out and with amazing dexterity picked up the sheet of paper; for a brief moment a sick smile creased the haggard face as he gazed at the message. Then he placed it carefully into the shredder and reached for the telephone.

  ***

  Hans de Wolf had curled up on the settee for a couple of hours but, irritatingly, slept eluded his overtired body so when the sound of the fax machine caught his attention he was almost grateful for the excuse to jump up from the sofa and grab the message.

  “Mein Gott,” he exclaimed aloud, “Alex needs to see these.” He scrambled among the numerous papers on the desk and finally found what he was looking for.

  “Here we are, Pulaski International and Igor’s direct Fax line,” he said to himself and tapped the number into the machine and then quickly added an additional note to the message: ‘Although it looks from this lot as though the nuclear devices and the SKY-SEC situation are different issues, I’m not convinced. Still working on a secure line but not perfect yet. Please up-date me your end ASAP.’

  Hans.

  ***

  Russian-born Muslim Hassan Eddie was a totally committed peace-loving disciple of his faith. He was well educated and had recently achieved degrees in Social Science and English language, which he intended to use in his ambition to become a teacher.

  It was the death of his younger brother at a peaceful religious festival that had so dramatically changed his direction in life.

  Attended by hundreds of local and visiting Muslims, an armed Russian Military Intelligence unit persistently provoked the gathering to such an extent that it eventually created the panic and chaos which finally turned the festival into the scene of a terrible massacre, leaving dozens of innocent souls - including Hassan’s teenage brother - dead and his own mind scarred and confused.

  Unable to bear the pain of his little brother’s death in such a manner, this impressionable young man was easily wooed by the extreme views of one of the more radical zealots from his Mosque.

  Equipped with this dramatically changed attitude, it took only a couple of more sessions with the man, whom he came to know simply as the Leader, to convert him into believing that if he were prepared to sacrifice his own life for the cause, he would not only be guaranteed eternal life with his little brother in Paradise, he would also have delivered a just punishment to those who caused his death.

  So when some time later he was called before his Leader and told that he had been specially chosen and the honour of the ultimate sacrifice had been bestowed upon him, Hassan Eddie was elated that his chance for vengeance had been granted to him so quickly. He spent several hours in grateful meditation and prayer as he waited patiently for his final briefing.

  When he was finally called upon by the Leader, he was told that he would have to be prepared to fulfil his mission within the next twenty-four hours. The target he learned with excitement was to be St Petersburg’s Chief of Police, Yuri Drumenco, whom Hassan was told had been directly responsible for the bloody massacre that had claimed the life of his innocent little brother.

  The Leader had somehow learned that Yuri Drumenco would be staying with his family at his luxury country holiday home, several miles north of St Petersburg. For the hypnotically indoctrinated Hassan, this was the perfect opportunity to strike a blow against the corruption blighting the Western world and fitting revenge for his brother’s death.

&nb
sp; On that last fateful evening he was summoned to his Leader’s side to receive his final instructions. In order to properly identify his target he was given a file with several photographs of Yuri Drumenco. The file also included a picture of Drumenco’s wife, Sacha, and their two teenage boys standing with two other adults.

  Hassan Eddie caught his breath when he recognised the other adults in the picture.

  Noticing Hassan’s sudden start the Leader asked casually. “Any problem?”

  Hassan recovered his composure quickly. “Not at all, it’s just that his sons are about the same age as my little brother.”

  “Then it is even more appropriate that they should all join you in Heaven, is it not?” The Leader smiled gratuitously. “In fact in these circumstances it would be entirely appropriate if you should destroy them all, don’t you agree?”

  “I agree.” Hassan acknowledged defiantly, but the first trace of doubt had already entered his head.

  “We leave here at four o-clock tomorrow morning. I have arranged for you to sleep here.” The Leader pointed to a camp bed.

  Hassan hesitated. “I have not said goodbye to my family.”

  “It is better that you do not see them again. You should take the memories that you already have with you to heaven. If they were to know your true intentions they would inevitably be distressed and may even try to dissuade you from fulfilling your destiny; that is not what you want, is it?”

  Hassan philosophically agreed and lay on the bunk bed, he closed his eyes but sleep did not come to him. Instead his mind tussled with the morality of killing other humans, even worse of killing innocent women and children. Then the words of his Leader repeatedly rang in his head. “You are the instrument of Allah in a holy war against a soulless enemy and you must obey his command. Killing in these circumstances is justified. Allah will give you absolution when you sit with him in heaven.”