Rise

by Victoria Powell

  “Only a couple of hours.”

  A couple of hours. She took another sip. Her father! They had her father! She jumped to her feet, still clutching the mug in her hands. “I have to go. My Dad.”

  Waving her hands in calming motions, Penny gestured for Alex to sit down. “He’s fine. He’s fine.”

  “What? How?” Alex sat back down.

  Penny shushed her before speaking. “I don’t know. The police are looking for him. He must have escaped.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “Maybe the Ackersons freed him. It’s Ok,” Penny urged. “Take a drink, it’ll calm your nerves.”

  Alex took a sip. “What about Nathan and Heather?”

  Penny shook her head. “I’ve not heard anything.”

  “They might still be in there.”

  Penny crossed her arms firmly. “What are you going to do? Charge in there all by yourself and rescue them? I don’t think so.”

  “I’ve got to get back to my base.” Alex was pushed back onto the bed as she tried to rise again.

  “You’re in no shape to go anywhere.”

  “But they’ll leave without me,” Alex said.

  “Alex. If they’re still there then they’re fools. Hywel revealed a heck of a lot of names to the city. The location of the base won’t be secret anymore,” Penny said impatiently. “You’re staying here tonight. We’ll see how you look tomorrow.”

  Alex felt a wave of dizziness. She slurped down more of her spiced drink to steady herself.

  “You’re right,” Alex conceded. “They’ll be gone. I can’t get back in touch with them until Wednesday.”

  “That’s only two days away,” Penny paused, contemplating.

  “Two days?” Wasn’t it three days away? Not important.

  If Hywel was free then she didn’t need to protect him. He knew how to hide better than most. Why would he run? Didn’t he have a deal with the police? He would never believe that the police wouldn’t hold up their end of the bargain.

  There was banging at the door. The handle turned and a stocky man in his mid-forties stepped into the room. Alex prepared herself for an attack.

  “Tim,” Penny breathed relief. “Alex is awake.”

  Tim ignored her, quickly moving to the kitchenette. Alex’s spine shivered. There was something wrong about the way he stood, the way he walked, the way he smelt. This was not a peace-loving man.

  “Hi,” she said cautiously.

  “There’ll be enough time for talk later,” Penny interrupted. “Alex is going to finish her drink and have a nap for a while. Tim and I will slip into the other room and give you some privacy.”

  Alex shook her head. “It’s Ok. I’m not tired.”

  Penny looked instantly concerned. “Really? You should rest.” Penny pushed Tim out through the door he’d just entered through. “Let me know if you need anything.” The door clicked to.

  The room seemed smaller and more dilapidated now it was quiet. The bed she sat on was a sheet of cardboard lining a pile of old mattresses. The kitchenette was just a sideboard with a tap hovering above where a sink bowl had once stood. A single lightbulb lit the windowless space.

  Alex sipped down the last of the grainy drink. What a life this couple must have, after the Larton Logistics group were discovered. This wasn’t a warehouse complex complete with cooks, scouts and night guards. Everything needed to be sourced, fought for and guarded by the two of them. The risks were high and their lives constantly under threat.

  Penny said Tim would bring them some food. His hands were empty when he came in the room. Maybe something had happened out there and he was forced to come back empty handed. There was something not right about that man.

  The world seemed to spin around her. Carefully she put the cup down and lay back on the bed, hoping it would pass. She closed her eyes and let herself slowly relax. The dizziness would pass.

  18 - The Policeman

  Glass crackled beneath the policeman’s boots. He was late to the scene. All that remained was chaos and detritus.

  Looking around the warehouse, Defoe saw the front and back exits wide open to the elements. The doors were cracked or laying on the ground. They had taken a pounding, a lot more than the police anticipated. The Ackersons had chosen their base well. Nevertheless, it was empty before the police got inside.

  Kids toys and bed mats lay on the floor. He half expected the morning baby bottles and medication to still be in a refrigerator in the kitchen. Teams of police were moving boxes out of the cellar, hoping one of them would reveal a secret. It was plausible that a clue to their whereabouts was hidden somewhere here, but the Ackersons were too good for that.

  “Inspector,” A confident young constable called from near a back office. “Come see this. I think you’ll find it interesting.”

  Defoe doubted it. Inspector Gray got here first and he was pretty thorough. They’d probably found a few fingerprints and thought they’d found the world. Irritated, Defoe kicked at the dust as he strolled across the warehouse. Inside the office, apart from the bits of furniture the owners had left behind, there were a few piles of paperwork and personal effects.

  “It’s Davies, isn’t it?” Defoe asked the cop, who was pulling bits out of a duffle bag.

  Glancing up, “Yes, sir.” The lad emptied the bag’s contents onto a table. “Here it is. I think these were Hywel Jenkin’s belongings.”

  Interest piqued; Defoe approached the pile. “Has Gray seen this?”

  The cop shrugged. “He’s been through here already and took bits away. Some of this stuff though, it’s more than just spare pants and old toothbrushes.”

  Defoe wrinkled his nose at the thought. “Like what?”

  Davies shuffled a few items around. “Who knows.”

  His interest waned; Defoe turned away. “Find me when you know. There’s no way I’m wading through Hywel Jenkin’s spare pants.”

  “What about these papers?” Davies called, obviously frustrated.

  “Give me a summary later.”

  Defoe was not reading Gray’s leftovers either. Scanning the warehouse, he saw Gray stepping out of the basement. Of course, he’d be checking out the escape routes. Reluctantly, Defoe drifted over in Gray’s direction.

  “Hey, you finally made it!” Gray hollered across the warehouse.

  Gray pushed a box into the arms of the lacky behind him and joined Defoe partway across the room.

  “Gray. Found anything interesting?” Defoe grumbled.

  Gray raised an eyebrow cockishly. “Loads. Where were you?”

  Defoe knew this was coming. “I’ve been on the go for days. Non-stop Ackerson hunting. Then I had to transport Alex Jenkins across town. When the call came to come here, funnily enough, I was asleep in the barracks.”

  Gray snorted. “I heard about your moment of glory.”

  Defoe swelled with pride. “If a job needs doing...”

  “That job didn’t need doing. I gave my word to Hywel. They were supposed to go into witness protection.”

  Defoe chuckled at Gray’s bored expression. “Well you were chosen to command the base raid and I got stuck with transport duty. The Ambassador has his prize now. Perhaps things would have gone differently if I’d been given the base raid.”

  Gray shrugged, brushing off the disagreement. “Just the way it worked out, that’s all.”

  “You were late to the base,” Defoe said, pumping his fists.

  “Orders from above.”

  Defoe glanced at the boxes that were heading out the door. “So, what did you find?”

  “Ah, quite a lot of DNA we can use to confirm illegal status. Some personal effects and papers. Photos of relatives and some links to contacts. That sort of thing.” Gray shrugged.

  Defoe was not convinced. “Any of Davidson’s stuff?”

  “Nah,” Gray said dismissively. “He doesn’t keep his stuff at the base. One of his contacts supposedly keeps it. We found a load of Hywel’s stuff. Nobody
picked it up for him.”

  “Funny that,” Defoe sniggered.

  “If I’d been betrayed and stabbed in the back I wouldn’t pick up the guy’s stuff either,” Gray said.

  Defoe stepped aside to let a policeman pass and signalled for Gray to step out of the thoroughfare. “What about your spy? Has she shown face?” Defoe asked.

  “She’s still undercover. It’ll work in our favour.” Gray hushed Defoe, not wanting to reveal the spy to the police around them.

  “Can’t she just report where they are now? Why are we having to lurk around here?”

  Gray looked at him intently, a bit disappointed. “Somersby is waiting for the group to settle. Alex was a big prize, right?”

  Pausing, Defoe considered this. “Yes, but why?”

  She had connections with other illegals, connections that would draw Martyn out of hiding to find her, but if they had the Ackersons in hand then she would surely be worth nothing. What else did he know about Alex?

  Gray nodded encouragingly at Defoe. “You must know. You were part of the team that arrested her mother and got bollocked for not bringing the kid in.”

  “Lads!”

  Gray and Defoe snapped their heads around to see a cop striding in from the front entrance.

  “Deputy Remea!” Gray hollered back and paced off ahead of Defoe towards their senior. “We weren’t expecting you at the scene.”

  Remea waited at the entrance, looking across the chaos in disgust. “I didn’t intend to come.”

  Gray pulled up short. “Deputy, before you start, we need more resources on these raids. We couldn’t get access to the right battering rams; we don’t have enough experienced men assigned to the raids and it takes ages to get them authorised. If we’d been able to attack hours earlier we might have caught them unawares.”

  Remea held up his hand to silence Gray. “I’ve heard enough. I can’t make money and men appear out of nowhere.”

  “Sir, I have spies in four other bases and I’ve been waiting weeks for the attack approvals. I have a spy with the Erikssens for crying out loud! Why did the Ackerson raid get priority over cop killers?” Gray moaned.

  “Stop it, Gray,” Remea said firmly. “The Ackersons were accessible at the right time.”

  “And that went well.” Defoe put in.

  “That’s not our fault,” Gray said. “Stay out of this.”

  “Gray,” Remea demanded.

  Gray growled impatiently before turning back to Remea. “It’s ‘cos of her, isn’t it?”

  Silence. Remea rubbed his face. “Gray, you’ve said your peace. I need to speak to Defoe.”

  “You need to speak to Defoe?” Gray said haughtily.

  “Goodbye, Inspector,” Remea said.

  They watched as Gray strutted away muttering to himself, completely losing his usual composure. Grabbing Defoe roughly by the arm, Remea pulled him towards the back office.

  “Out,” Remea said.

  The eager little cop inside dropped the papers and nearly leapt out of the room.

  Defoe waited for the door to close. “Deputy?”

  “Shut up, Defoe. Sometimes you’re more trouble than that spy-wrangler outside. Gray is a headache and a half but he didn’t lose Alex Jenkins, twice.” Remea pushed the carefully sorted papers off the table and sat down on the edge of it.

  “What? How’s that?” Defoe said.

  Remea spat into a bin. “Bloody hell. The Ambassador is really pissed at you. He wanted Alex Jenkins handed over to his private security forces. Yet somehow she’s out on the streets again.”

  “How? How did she get out?” Defoe blurted.

  Remea slammed his fist down on the desk. “That’s not a question you’re supposed to need to ask.”

  “But?”

  Remea scowled. “Sergeant Willis let her out.”

  “Bastard! I should have strung him up years ago.”

  “And now the Ambassador thinks we’re hiding her.”

  “Well, we don’t have her,” Defoe said. “If we had her then he’d be welcome to her. I’ll strip her down and lay her out for him myself.”

  Remea glared at him. “You’re an idiot. You really are.”

  Defoe shrugged. “Why does he want her?”

  “I’ve told you, don’t ask.” Remea rubbed his eyes again. “He thinks we still have her and are trying to subvert him by keeping her from him. It’s messy. We need to get her back quickly and unharmed.”

  “Unharmed?” Defoe squirmed. “She’s a vicious little bitch. She won’t come easily and it would be a lot easier just to put her down.”

  “Put her down and he’ll put you down. He’ll rip you apart and feed you to dogs while you’re still conscious,” Remea said seriously.

  What was it about her? Gray hinted that the Ambassador was after Alex when she was just a kid.

  Defoe pondered. “The Ambassador’s security... they have all sorts of mind-bending stuff at their finger-tips.”

  Remea nodded. “A very fine torture kit if you screw up.”

  Defoe shook his head dismissively. “They could brainwash her into defecting from the Ackersons, publicly I mean. If she were to publicly discredit them then that could really make an impact.”

  Remea looked at him long and hard. “You’re an idiot. Stop playing this bloody stupid guessing game and get out there and find her.”

  19 - The Guard

  Commander Swanson had to die.

  Swanson was the face of the Empire. He was the one who called for executions. He was evil.

  The Commander’s private life was an enigma hidden behind lies and armed guards. Never had those defences cracked before. Now Toby stood outside his house, on the border of Ashgrove and Central. The well-travelled street and the low-lying boundary walls didn’t match Toby’s imagine of Swanson’s gilded manor. Was this his house? It was too normal.

  “See that,” Tim said. He nodded toward a man passing the house. A perimeter guard.

  The guard walked straight past their porch. Swanson’s security needed retraining. These guys had not faced a credible threat in a long time.

  Killing Swanson was a good thing, but that would bring the Empire down on them, Erikssens and Ackersons alike. What Toby was about to do would hurt all the Ackersons hiding back at base, but he had no choice. There were six Erikssens escorting Toby on this foolhardy mission and the Erikssens were holding Alex. She was just a kid. He wouldn’t let them hurt her.

  Bryant snuck a peek. “He’s passed by three times in the last half hour. We’re getting to know his pace.”

  “And there are the outside door guards. Anyone else around?” Tim asked.

  Toby checked the street again. “This is too easy.”

  Bryant hissed. “Look, Ackerson, if you’re gonna be dead wood in there then you’re dead out here. Alex too.”

  “We don’t have enough intel.”

  “This is it,” Bryant said.

  “You just concentrate on putting a bullet in Swanson’s head,” Tim added. “Then we’ll let Alex go.”

  Toby had to believe that. He checked the silenced pistol in his jacket pocket. Then he stepped out into the tangerine streetlight towards the strong oak door that stood between them and the Police Chief’s final end. Just that door and a few soon-to-be-dead guys who signed up to guard the sociopath who runs the city.

  As expected, Toby was met at the front door by two smoke-infused men.

  “You lost, friend?” One asked firmly.

  Toby patted down his pockets. “You guys got a light?”

  “Get out of here.” The ‘friend’ snapped.

  Toby put his hands up and staggered theatrically. “My girl lives here. Why’re you guys here?”

  The guards laughed. They’d seen drunken idiots in their droves. “No mate, your girl doesn’t live here.”

  “Yes, she does. I know her.”

  “Not here, mate. Get home before the cops find you.”

  Toby skirted past them. “Yes, she does. I
’ll prove it.”

  “No, no, no!” The guard urged.

  The men jerked wildly and collapsed onto the floor. Toby didn’t check them; they would have screamed if they were still alive. He turned, twisted the doorknob and stepped into the building.

  Pulling his pistol out, he shot the guard sitting on a chair by the door, then twisted and shot one drinking a cup of tea near the far wall. He heard a thud behind him and turned to see Bryant stepping over a guard who had hidden behind the door.

  “Only three guards inside?” Bryant said.

  Tim and the other four Erikssens fanned out to cover the corridors filtering off the foyer.

  “There will be more in a guards’ room,” Tim said.

  “You two, stay down here and watch the hallway.” Bryant ordered. “The rest of you, upstairs. Silence from here on in. We’ve got six minutes before the sentry outside raises the alarm.”

  Bryant took the lead, heading straight up to the first floor. This late at night Swanson should be in bed, if they had any luck. There were six doors on the landing. One had a cute picture of a pink rabbit on the door. “Rebekah” was written across its back. Another door had a shiny blue train with the word “Adam” written across its roof. The puzzle of Swanson’s private life was unravelling. There were innocent kids inside the house.

  They opened the first blank door. This was it. In the middle of the plush room a king-size bed was occupied by two bodies. Bryant and Toby approached the bed.

  Toby checked the bedside unit. Two rings, a watch and a golden necklace lay in a dish in front of a photo. There Swanson was, framed with a beautiful blond woman half his age. He looked so happy. So normal. Only the tips of cropped brunette hair peeked above the covers, mingled with his wife’s sweeping long blond threads.

  Bryant nudged Toby and pointed down at the bodies with his pistol. Toby knew what to do. He couldn’t risk the wife raising the alarm. That beautiful blond, mother of two, she didn’t deserve this. The wife would pay for the husband’s crimes. He had to do this to save Alex.

  Toby pointed the pistol. The hammer drove home once, twice. The brunette twitched beneath the duvet before the second bullet hit.