Eight … seven … six.
Vadik focused his full attention on the gap in the hedgerow, salivating in advance of the upcoming destruction.
Such a turn on. Such power!
Time slowed as Vadik’s heart raced. He almost drooled. Beside him, Wilfred’s breathing increased, too. The baby-faced geek loved this sexy shit almost as much as Vadik.
Two … one.
Now!
A ball of orange surrounded in black smoke climbed into the air. The thumping, booming roar followed a fraction of a second later.
“Kiváló. Excellent.” He pressed the button on the walkie-talkie once more and shouted, “Nice work, Eliasz.”
A good leader always praised his men for a job well done.
Vadik held his hand up to Wilfred, who slapped it gently, chuckling like the little kid he was.
“You sure that will work?”
Wilfred nodded. “The house is now dark, főnök. As are all the farms and houses within two kilometres.”
After watching the fireball dissipate into nothing, a contented Vadik faced front and settled back in his seat.
“Good. Prepare the device.”
Wilfred slipped the computer tablet between his legs—guarding it along with his family jewels—and hauled his electronic bag of tricks up from the footwell. It must have fallen when Farzin jammed on the brakes. The device better not be damaged or someone would pay with an eye. Not Wilfred or Farzin, of course. No, they were too valuable. Maybe one of the hired men. They were expendable.
Food for cannons.
Wilfred worked the zipper of the bag and peeled back the padded flap. The shiny box with the dials and switches looked the same as it had back at base when Wilfred demonstrated the system in operation. At the time, the baby-faced genius had tried explaining how it functioned, but Vadik did not understand one word of the techno-babble. He did not give a shit how it worked. Vadik only cared that it did work. And it did! Perfectly.
Wilfred pressed some buttons and turned a couple of dials. Finally, with an index finger poised over a red button, he turned to face Vadik.
“Are you sure, főnök?”
“Of course. Why ask?”
“While the signal jammer is in operation, we will not be able to use our own mobile phones or the walkie-talkies, either.”
“No matter. Do it.”
Wilfred shrugged and jabbed down on the piece of red plastic. Nothing happened.
“Is it working?”
“Yes, főnök.”
“How can you be certain?”
Wilfred smiled confidently. “It works. I am certain.” The kid pointed at the walkie-talkie. “If you like, test it.”
“Good idea.”
Vadik hit the button and tried raising Obasi and Eliasz, but neither responded. Of course the jammer worked. Wilfred never failed him.
“Excellent, Wilfred. Excellent.” He raised his hand and they shared another high-five.
“Farzin,” Vadik said, “let us go. Time to finish these English cretins.”
Chapter Fourteen
Wednesday 3rd May – Vadik Pataki
Amber Valley, Derbyshire, UK
Farzin worked the accelerator and the BMW rolled away, this time more sedately, giving Vadik time to take in the scenery of such a green and pleasant land. A land nearly ready for plundering.
The pothole-damaged road ran along the bottom of a verdant valley. Tall and overgrown hedges broken by the occasional stand of mature trees guarded either side of the narrow road, allowing a stippled and watery sunlight to filter through the new leaves. He recognised oaks, silver birch, chestnuts, but none of the others. Breaks in the hedgerows revealed rolling green fields dotted with cows.
The region reminded him of home. Miles and miles of nothing. Rural emptiness, no good for anything but farmers and wildlife. Not enough people to exploit. Perfect for vegetation and retirement villages, but Vadik was not yet ready to retire. Perhaps Papa might like the place, but nothing would drag Papa away from their stronghold outside Győr—the Interpol Red Notice made sure of that.
They rounded yet another corner and Farzin slowed the car even further. On their left, the hedge stopped and gave way to a red brick wall set two metres back from the road. The ancient and crumbling brickwork stretched up a little over two metres tall. It appeared almost imposing.
In Hungary, the walls protecting the family’s main compound were topped with electrified razor wire, but the English did not allow such serious defences. Protection such as that broke something called the Occupiers’ Liability Act. Complete nonsense. The Nanny State of Britain in action.
Farzin cursed, pulled the car onto the grass verge, and stopped.
“What is wrong?”
“The gates are closed, főnök,” he said, pointing ahead to where the wall curved back and the black gates stood, locked firmly shut against each other.
The shaven-headed mercenary with the coal black skin and the wide shoulders in the front passenger seat sniffed wetly, like a truffle pig, and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Filthy animal. Did the English not understand what handkerchiefs were for?
“Szar!” Vadik swore. “Lajos should have left them open for us. He knows nothing.”
Vadik slid an enquiring look at Wilfred, who scrunched up his girly face.
“I cannot open them, főnök. There is no power to engage the motors.”
“Bassza meg! Fuck! I did not think of that. Can we blow the gates open?”
Wilfred shook his head and shrugged one of his skinny shoulders.
“The plan was to make it look like Nemeth killed the woman in a bungled burglary. What will blowing the gates apart do to that scenario?”
“You make a good point, Wilfred. I always knew you would earn your keep one day.”
“Thank you, főnök. I hope I earn my keep every day,”
Vadik reached across to ruffle the kid’s floppy hair. Wilfred hated being touched. He also hated anyone doing anything that messed with his perfect hair—an affectation he learned from the fop, Lajos. What was it with the fashion conscious? A genius when it came to electronics, Wilfred was also a slave to his looks and to his personal hygiene. Not a problem. The black man, Truffle Pig, could learn from little Wilfred.
“You still have access to satellite photos on your tablet?”
“Of course, főnök.”
Wilfred retrieved the device from between his legs and his fingers flew over its virtual keyboard.
“I downloaded one to the memory last night. The damping field made this essential.”
He angled the screen so Vadik could see, but kept the device close. Wilfred used technology as his safety blanket, always had. This was fine by Vadik, although he had not always seen it this way. When he had first come across the pre-teen Wilfred, Vadik tried to prise a battered laptop from his filthy fingers. The little freak turned into a complete berserker. Vadik had to beat the kid senseless before the stupid fucker would calm down.
When Wilfred had finally regained consciousness and discovered that Vadik had not only returned the original laptop, but provided him with an expensive, state-of-the-art replacement as well, a grudging friendship was born. Vadik would never take a piece of electronic equipment from Wilfred again, and would kill anyone else who tried to do the same thing. Vadik offered Wilfred protection and, what was to Wilfred, vast sums of money. In return, Wilfred gave Vadik almost unlimited control over the virtual universe.
A fair exchange is no robbery.
Vadik studied the image afresh. The house and its outbuildings dominated the centre of the picture, and was surrounded by the brick wall—the wall they were now stopped alongside. The wall had two openings, one at the front which housed the automatic gates, and another at the rear for access to farm vehicles, Vadik assumed.
The place was trying hard to be a fortress.
Why Prentiss thought he needed to live in a house with such a wall was a mystery. It had done him no good. On top of which
, no one had ever built a wall tall enough or strong enough to keep out Vadik Pataki. Especially since Vadik now had such a well-armed military force under his command.
Vadik rubbed his hands together. He had been sitting still for long enough. It was long past time for action. Time to see what the English Pansy had left of his half-brother. Time for people to die.
He pushed open the SUV’s door and jumped into a cool English day. Farzin and Truffle Pig followed him out and around the back of the car to join all the others.
Wilfred stayed put inside the car. He would be of no use when things turned angry and was better off sitting in the warm and keeping out of the way.
Four men exited the second car. Three more climbed out of the third. They gathered around their boss, their főnök.
Vadik puffed out his chest. He was born for moments such as these. Born for leadership.
He started with the second driver. “Obasi, there is another gate at the rear of the property. Take Eliasz and the rest of the men and make entry there. Spread out around the grounds. Choose your individual targets as you see fit. Farzin and I, together with this one”—he pointed to Truffle Pig—“will enter here. I will lead the frontal assault. Obasi, you and your men will attack from the rear and the sides. Do nothing until you hear my signal.”
To avoid confusion, he spoke to Obasi and Farzin in Hungarian, and repeated himself in English for the benefit of the hired men. No one would have any excuses.
Violence stirred the blood. Strong men were forged in battle, and Vadik Pataki was such a man.
He drew the Sig from its holster under his armpit and pointed it at the darkening sky. “Three rapid shots and we all go in shooting. Kill anyone you do not know. Understand?”
Obasi, Eliasz, and Farzin nodded and added their usual feral smiles. All three loved the battle as much as Vadik. Working for the family had bred it into them. Without their love of war and their lust for spilling blood, none would have survived so long.
“Remember,” Vadik added, almost as an afterthought, and speaking directly to Obasi, “Lajos is in there. Save him if you can. According to the Englishman, Bence, Milán, and Nemeth are already gone. Of that, we cannot be certain, but if it is the case, we will avenge their deaths with bullets and in blood. Nobody in that house must survive.”
Obasi and Eliasz grunted their agreement and raced away. The rest of their team filed into place behind them. They hugged tight to the brickwork until reaching the corner, where they turned right and disappeared into the bushes.
Vadik glanced up. The wall was not high enough to cause too much of a problem, but the occupants of any passing car would be interested to see someone scaling a wall such as this and in broad daylight. Not that another car had passed since their arrival.
Still, caution often paid dividends.
“Farzin,” he said, reverting to Hungarian, “pull the car up to the driveway and park in front of the gates.” He turned to Truffle Pig. “You, Englishman. Move the other cars alongside this one. Make sure they block the view from the road.”
Farzin and Truffle Pig followed his instructions. The boot of each car stuck out into the road a little, but not enough to risk a sideswipe from a passing vehicle, who would see them as visitors waiting to be granted access. At least, that was the way Vadik hoped it looked.
“Wilfred,” he called and signalled him to wind down his window. “Listen for my instructions. I will tell you when it is safe to cancel the signal damper.”
“What are you going to do?” Wilfred asked, still pale from sitting in the back of a fast-moving car, but recovered enough to form a question.
“Me, Wilfred?” he said, baring his teeth in a snarl. “I am going to kill me some filthy English fuckers.”
This was going to be a good day for the Pataki family, and a great day for Vadik. He racked a slug into the chamber of the Sig and turned towards the gates.
Wednesday 3rd May – Vadik Pataki
Amber Valley, Derbyshire, UK
Farzin and Truffle Pig joined him at the closed gates. Not much had changed since he had dragged Prentiss away in the Range Rover that morning. Not that he expected to see many changes, but he was almost disappointed. After the unexpected loss of power, Vadik half-expected to see Pansy and a couple of his friends running around in a panic, trying to escape their inevitable demise, but no.
All was silent and serene.
The gravelled drive stretched out in a left-hand curve towards the front of the imposing two-storey house. Someone, perhaps Pansy himself, had closed the wooden shutters on the upper floor. Not that it mattered. A few wooden panels would not protect those inside from the upcoming heavy assault. It might delay the inevitable for a moment or two, but no longer.
He paused for a moment. Something was missing. What?
There were no cars parked on the drive in front of the house. Lajos would have left his car there. Interesting. Maybe Pansy and his spineless friends had scurried away after all.
Smiling, he turned to face Wilfred, who had raised the window half way. “Can you locate the portable phone from Lajos?”
Wilfred shook his head. “Not without deactivating the damping field.”
“Do it, but only for as long as absolutely necessary. We do not want to give the English time to telephone the police.”
“One moment.”
Wilfred lowered his head in concentration. A minute later, no more, he raised his head again. “Sorry, főnök. All the mobiles have been powered off. I cannot locate any of them.”
“Is the damping field back in operation?”
“Yes, főnök.”
“Good. Keep it that way until we are finished here.”
Vadik nodded to Farzin. “We need to find an easy way in. I do not wish to climb walls in this suit.”
Truffle Pig sniffled again, stretched out a powerful arm, and heaved against the left-hand gate. It opened, squeaking loud enough to wake the dead. Poor Bence and Milán came to mind. Vadik ground his teeth. He would avenge their murders. By God, he would.
“What the fuck?” Vadik could not hide his surprise.
Truffle Pig peeled back his upper lip in a tooth-glistening smile. It made him look insufferable. So damn smug.
“I’ve seen this before. It’s a safety feature in case of a power cut and the backup generator packs in. Owners don’t want to be locked inside their houses in an emergency.”
Vadik nodded.
Perhaps Truffle Pig had his uses after all.
“Yes, of course. I knew that,” Vadik said, unwilling to throw the big black Englishman a bone. “This is going to be easier than expected. Follow me.”
Vadik sidestepped through the part-open gate and, crouching low, raced for the bushes lining the wall. He found a spot with a good view of the front door and waited for Farzin and Truffle Pig to reach him. The tree he hid behind had a thick, gnarled trunk. It would afford him excellent protection.
He waved Truffle Pig away, pointing him towards a less dense covering of bushes and shrubs. Until the attack, Truffle Pig would be hidden from the house, but when they advanced he would draw fire. Farzin, he kept close.
What next? Had he missed anything?
Think, Vadik.
Prentiss House was quiet. Doors shut, windows and shutters closed. What, or rather who, lay inside? Who and how many? The place could be empty, or teeming with people. Not knowing was the worst thing. Normally, Vadik knew everything. Normally, he planned for every conceivable eventuality. But this situation was alien. Facing the unknown intimidated him. It was … scary.
Fuck.
Was he scared?
No, certainly not. In his line of business one could not show fear. Any display of fear would be the end of him as a leader.
In an instant, Vadik found breathing difficult. It was as though a rock pressed against his chest. He tried to swallow but could not generate the spit. It was one thing to stomp on a cowering lowlife when you had control of the situation and good men at your
command. But this time, they were on foreign soil, and half his men were no more than hired thugs. He had no idea of their capabilities. No idea whether they would even obey him. This made things different. He had no idea what to expect. Vadik did not like the situation one little bit.
He took a huge breath.
Bassza meg! Fuck it!
He was Vadik Pataki! The Lion of Győr. First born son of the Giant of Győr. He would tear apart Pansy and all his miserable people. He would rip out their throats and gorge on their carcasses.
Vadik stepped out from behind the protection of the tree and filled his lungs with cool English air.
“Englishman!” he bellowed. “Are you ready to die?”
Chapter Fifteen
Wednesday 3rd May – Danny Pinkerton
Amber Valley, Derbyshire, UK
“Sergeant!” the captain called from the entrance hall. “We have company!”
Danny shot a reassuring smile at Marian. At least, he hoped it was it reassuring.
“Wasn’t expecting them so quickly,” he said, keeping the tension from his voice although his heartrate had risen a little as his old fighting buddy, adrenaline, coursed through his system.
It was the same at the outset of every fight. A friend prepping him for battle: increased breathing, blood pumping hard through pliant arteries, muscles warming, senses tingling. Hearing, vision, sense of smell, all heightened. Everything working towards protecting him from death. The joint thrill and fear of battle. Addictive and terrifying in equal measure.
Danny approached Marian and stood close enough to see her shaking.
“Don’t worry,” he said, reaching for her upper arm, “Griffin and I have got this sorted. It’s what we do.”
While the captain locked and bolted the front doors, Danny led Marian to her den and covered her with the cushions and the mattresses.
On the Hunt Page 12
