Long Road Home: A pulse racing action thriller you won't want to put down. (Sam Pope Series Book 3)

by Robert Enright

  All of these locations were off the books, as most things were. They were strictly need to know and Sam got the impression that only Sims knew of this location. Blackridge were heavily funded and had the right backing in the right places to operate where and how they wanted. It was how they’d been able to arrest him in the middle of Kiev airport or cause a mass panic at Berlin station and it all be reported as a ‘false alarm’.

  Somewhere in this building, was Marsden.

  Sam was going to get him out.

  The rain drummed against the window of the car like impatient fingers on a desk and Sam reached for the handle. As he did, Alex reached out and grabbed his arm. With a warm smile, he turned to her.

  ‘You remember what I told you?’

  ‘Just drive,’ she said sternly.

  ‘Just keep going,’ Sam added. ‘I promise you; I will help you get your family back.’

  ‘If you go in there, you will die,’ she said coldly, shaking her head, her dark hair swaying.

  ‘If I don’t, then Marsden will. And I can’t walk away from that.’ Sam pushed open the door of the car and stepped out gingerly into the cold rain. As he turned back to close the door, he ducked his head in, rain already dropping from his face. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

  Sam closed the door and then reached up to the fence. His fingers clawed at the slippery wire and with a little discomfort, he scaled the perimeter. He dropped down, feeling a numbing pain in his thigh, before he hurried across the car park. A few rows of old cars were dotted around, along with a large delivery truck which had been used to transport the produce.

  All relics from a bygone age.

  Now, this building was a place of pain and death.

  Sam was planning on towing the line.

  With the pistol held downwards, he approached the door, surprised to find it unlocked. He whipped around quickly, scanning the parking lot over the sight of his pistol and once satisfied, slid inside.

  The hallway was dark, the power out and Sam ensured he took the weight off each step. The likelihood was they were underground, protocol dictated they would have bagged Marsden and led him somewhere he couldn’t return from should he escape.

  Sam cleared each room that adorned the hallway, pushing open the door and fluidly entering the room, gun drawn.

  Clear.

  All the rooms were clear.

  Something didn’t feel right, and Sam stepped back out into the corridor, his finger caressing the trigger of his pistol. He pulled open a door, revealing the stairwell and he slowly descended into the dark, his eyes adjusted enough to make out the steps in front. Jagged fragments of memories began to circle in his mind from that fateful night where he was shot.

  Project Hailstorm.

  Marsden had told him the USB stick he’d entrusted to him had the truth of what happened that night on it. That everything Sam believed about their war on terror was a lie.

  Marsden had wanted Sam to run free and spill the truth to the world. He would be furious that Sam had come back.

  He would just have to deal with it.

  As Sam reached the bottom step, a dim light crept through the exit door. Sam pressed his back to the wall and gently pushed the door open, sliding out gun first, his finger ready.

  The corridor was empty.

  Dim lights lined the entire ceiling, and another selection of doors awaited, leading to a large, metal door at the end. Sam ducked into the first few rooms, finding nothing but a few sofas and TVs. Most likely break out rooms for the crew.

  The next room had a couple of unmade bunks.

  No personal effects to be found.

  The last room he checked before approaching the metal door was lined with empty lockers, one of them sporting a large dent from an angry fist. The table near the door was covered in playing cards, with one of the players taking the rest for everything they had judging by the chips. At the far end of the room, Sam recognized his sports bag, which was empty.

  The whole place was empty.

  Sam turned hesitantly and headed back to the metal door; his gun pointed to the floor as he walked. He shifted the large, metal handle and the door groaned loudly as it opened.

  Sam saw the blood first.

  The room was lit by a large, halogen tube which flickered every so often, its glow shining a spotlight down on the carnage below. To the side of the table, the prone, lifeless body of Sims was stretched out in a large pool of blood. The back of his head was missing, ripped apart by a well-placed bullet.

  Sam felt nothing but contempt for the man.

  Then he felt his legs buckle.

  Marsden was on his back, a blood-soaked hand pressed to his stomach. The other clutching his chain, above another fresh bullet wound.

  ‘No!’ Sam exclaimed, splashing through the blood and dropping to his knees beside his mentor’s body. ‘Come on, sir. Stay with me.’

  As Sam frantically scanned the injuries on Marsden’s motionless body, Marsden slowly opened his eyes, wheezing as the air tried to find a way into his blood-filled lungs.

  ‘Sam,’ Marsden managed. ‘I told you to go.’

  ‘Not without you, sir.’ Sam tried to smile, but his watery eyes betrayed his confidence. ‘I came to get you out.’

  ‘You need to…’ Marsden coughed, a few speckles of blood spraying upwards like a horrific fountain. ‘…need to leave…’

  ‘We don’t leave men behind, sir. You know that.’

  Marsden coughed again, more blood launching into the room. Sam felt his fists clenching, the pain of losing another person eating away at him. With a hard tug, Marsden snapped the chain on his tags and with his hand shaking, he handed them to Sam.

  ‘Everything was always for these. Whatever they say, Sam, I was a soldier.’

  ‘Yes, sir. You still are. Now let’s try to get you up…’

  ‘Sam… you’re a good man. Remember that,’ Marsden’s struggled. ‘A good man.’

  Marsden’s hand went limp.

  ‘No, no, no, no,’ Sam said panicked, leaning over his beloved mentor. ‘Stay with me, stay with me.’

  Sam gently rocked Marsden but within seconds knew it was futile. Sam rocked forward on his knees, letting a roar of anguish bellow into the room, his pain bouncing off every wall and down the corridor. Knee deep in Marsden’s blood, Sam gripped the man’s dog tags as tears fell down his face.

  Marsden was dead.

  Suddenly, the door swung open and before Sam could grasp his gun or a hold of the situation, three armed men swarmed in, their assault rifles locked onto Sam. He recognized one of them as Buck, while the other two were another bunch of faceless mercs, fresh off the Blackridge production line. As they fanned out slightly, sticking closely to the shadows on the outskirts of the room, Alex Stone was shoved into the room, her sorrow clearly etched across her face.

  She had a large swelling over her right eye.

  With a sad nod of her head, she offered Sam a useless apology.

  Then, the heavy boots stomped towards the door and like an alpha wolf returning to its den, General Ervin Wallace stepped into the room, his fierce eyes locked on Sam, who was slowly getting to his feet.

  Behind him, Marsden’s motionless body lay in a pool of his own blood.

  Murdered.

  Sam could feel the reflexes in his body wanting desperately to reach for the gun and put a bullet between the man’s eyes. But that would only leave him and most likely, Alex, riddled with bullets.

  He fought the temptation and left the gun on the table.

  Wallace glanced at Marsden’s dead body and felt a flutter of guilt and regret pass through him.

  He returned his gaze to Sam and smiled.

  ‘Hello, Sam. I believe you have something that belongs to me.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  There had been times in his life where Sam didn’t believe in no-win situations. He remembered the conversation he’d had with Marsden, his mentor trying to explain to him that there would come a time that e
ven a man with extraordinary gifts such as Sam, wouldn’t be able to win.

  That fighting wasn’t going to get you out alive.

  Sam had never believed it. Even when he was at his lowest, contemplating the horrors that had happened to his family, he knew he was taking the easy way out. By not confronting that pain or accepting the loss, it was easier to get by.

  But he never thought he couldn’t win.

  Until now.

  Sam held his hands up slowly, his pistol was on the table where he’d placed it when he raced to Marsden’s aid. The three gunmen spread a little further out, keeping as big of a distance as possible.

  There was no way out of this. If Sam went for the gun, he would be torn to shreds. If he went for one of the armed men, the other two would waste him in seconds.

  ‘General,’ Sam said coldly. ‘You’re looking horrible.’

  Wallace smiled, stepping into the room and surveying the chaos he’d created.

  ‘I’m doing better than Sims. I would say it was a shame…’

  ‘But you’d be lying,’ Sam finished, the two men nodding their appreciated disdain for the recently deceased.

  ‘However, I’m truly hurt by the loss of our friend, Carl Marsden.’ Wallace took a seat at the table, gesturing to Sam to follow. ‘The man chose a path that unfortunately, had only one way out.’

  ‘You killing him?’ Sam spat angrily, taking his seat. One of the guards moved slowly towards the door, ensuring he had eyes on Alex. Sam shot her a look of reassurance, but knew it had little effect. Stood with her hands behind her back, she stared at the floor.

  Both of them knew he was unlikely to leave the room. Her chances were slim but a little better.

  ‘Like I told dear Carl, I’m in the unenviable position of having to do things I, and others, don’t want to, to keep our country, hell, our world safe.’ Wallace glanced past Sam at Marsden’s dead body. ‘I begged for him to choose another path and he made his decision.’

  ‘Some men are willing to die for what they believe in.’

  ‘Are you?’ Wallace’s face changed as he asked his thinly veiled threat. Gone was the well-practiced cadence and pally demeanor. Now, the man who led a series of bloodthirsty missions through war-torn states of Africa sat, his eyes locked on Sam like two sniper scopes.

  ‘I fight for what I believe in,’ Sam stated.

  ‘And what is that, Sam? Really? Justice?’ Wallace chuckled, shaking his head. ‘Don’t make me laugh. I’ve been following your little one-man crusade since you started it. The thing is, while some people will put you up on a pedestal and claim you’re a hero, I know the truth. You have always been a killer. One of the very best. God knows how many men, women, and children you eliminated for me over the years.’

  ‘I never killed a child,’ Sam said, his voice tinged with anger.

  ‘You didn’t pull the trigger. But how many people did you send to the afterlife, leaving them without a father? Eh? How many of them, after seeing their heroic dad murdered by the enemy, do you think joined the Taliban? Or ISIS?’ Wallace gesticulated wildly as he ranted. ‘They’ll all join the cause and we will put them all in the ground. So, while you may not of flicked the switch, Sam, you strapped them to the electric chair.’

  Sam felt his stomach knot. What truly made him sick, was on some level, he knew that Wallace was right. Sam had always followed his orders, eliminating whatever target was put in front of him. The missions were all for the liberation of the local people, but there would be those who didn’t want to be saved.

  There were those who would find salvation in fighting back.

  Sam knew it, because he had found the same answer to deal with his own pain.

  The room suddenly felt a little smaller, and the coppery smell and taste of blood lingered in the back of his throat. Sam had already noted the estimated steps between each of the guards and how quickly it would take for them to raise their weapons. But now, with his head slightly spinning, he couldn’t trust those incremental details that could turn the situation in his favour.

  ‘Sam,’ Wallace called him back to the room. ‘Have we lost you.’

  Sam shook his head. Wallace grinned.

  ‘Good. Now, like I said, Marsden died because he refused to see the bigger picture. Now, I’m not going to sit here and twist your testicles, Sam. This is a bad situation for you, and I want to help you. All you have to do, is give me the files.’

  ‘What’s on them?’ Sam asked. ‘Marsden said they had the names of the people who have destroyed this world. Are you on them?’

  ‘Saved this world,’ Wallace interjected, frustrated. ‘There are things we have to do to keep the world safe. Things Carl and the masses wouldn’t understand. Now, I implore you, hand over those files.’

  ‘You know, Marsden always respected you,’ Sam said, catching Wallace off guard. ‘He didn’t particularly like you, but he respected you. He said you were the exact person our country needed to fight the war on terror. Now you’ve killed him because he found out the truth. If he was willing to die for that truth to come out, then so am I.’

  ‘What did you do?’ Wallace said with venom hanging from his words.

  ‘I don’t have the USB stick.’ Sam reached into his pocket, causing all three guards to raise their rifles. Sam held up a hand showing them he was removing a receipt.

  It was from the international post office.

  ‘What is this?’ Wallace yelled, snatching the paper in his large grip. The bottom half of it was missing.

  ‘I posted the files back to the UK, with a message saying if they haven’t heard from me in the next two days, to publish them online and spread it across social media like a goddamn wildfire.’

  Wallace angrily scanned the receipt then slammed it on the table. Sam had removed the tracking number and the address.

  The stick was gone.

  Sam leant forward.

  ‘Do whatever the hell you want with me, sir. But this man didn’t die for nothing.’

  ‘Do you have any idea what you have done?’ Wallace said shaking his head. ‘You have risked the international security of the entire world.’

  ‘The world needs the truth,’ Sam responded. ‘If the security is nothing but a lie, then it needs to be brought down brick by brick.’

  ‘Where has this been sent to?’ Wallace’s asked impatiently.

  ‘Like I said, do what you want to me.’

  At that moment, the inside of Wallace’s blazer shook, and he reached in, removing his phone. The screen flashed brightly, and Wallace smiled.

  Whatever the message was, it was good news.

  Sam shuffled uncomfortably on his chair and Wallace popped the phone back into the sweaty inside of his blazer and casually got to his feet.

  ‘See, the thing is, Sam, I know people like you. You’re not afraid of pain. Not afraid of death. You seemingly have no weaknesses.’ Wallace pulled out Sam’s own pistol from the back of his trousers. ‘However, you’re a man of honour. So, the fact that ballistics will show that this gun killed both Sims and Carl, along with our sworn testimony will mean you will rot in jail as the man who finally turned against those who helped him the most.’

  Sam’s jaw tightened with fury, but he remained seated, knowing Wallace was goading him. Yes, he was heading to prison, but lunging for the man would result in a justified execution. Wallace smirked, taking a few steps towards the door. Alex stepped to the side, not wanting any piece of the deplorable General. Wallace kept his eyes on Sam.

  ‘I’ll make sure you’re buried in the deepest, darkest hole, where you will wish, every day, that I’d put a bullet in your head,’ Wallace threatened. ‘There will be no coming back, Sam. There are facilities where we put people that never see the light of day. That experience hell, every single day. But before you get there, you just sit where you are. I’ve arranged a little reunion for you.’

  Sam frowned, confused by Wallace’s words, who responded with a smug grin.

  ‘Oh, trus
t me. He’s been waiting to get his hands on you for a long time. Whatever he leaves of you, I’ll toss into the pit and make sure every day, for the rest of your existence, is filled with more pain than your little boy felt when he was crushed by that car.’

  Anger coursed through Sam like a cancer and he shook. It was a cheap shot from Wallace, but the mere mention of his son took him close to breaking point. It was the painful catalyst for everything, but Sam had always tried to deny that his son had felt any pain.

  He knew that was a lie.

  Wallace stood by the door, his evil glare landing on Alex who sheepishly pressed herself against the wall, her hands firmly behind her back. Sam noticed Wallace’s intent and stood.

  ‘Sir, please. You have me. Let her go.’

  All the rifles were raised, and Sam heard the sound of feet shuffling into position. The bulb above hummed loudly, bathing the pooling blood on the floor in a glorious shimmer. Wallace lifted the gun and aimed it squarely at Alex’s head. Her eyes widened with fear and she looked straight at Sam.

  ‘Now, Sam, you might not give a fuck about what happens to yourself. But how does this rank on your holier than thou bullshit?’

  ‘Sam?’ Alex asked, her eyes wide with terror.

  ‘It’s going to be okay, Alex,’ Sam offered helplessly. ‘Sir, please put the gun down. You’ve done enough to her already.’

  ‘I’ll be honest, Sam, I don’t deal much with the recruitment process,’ Wallace said nonchalantly. ‘However, as always, when it comes to saving the world, a few people have to die for the rest to survive. Now I’ll ask you one last time. Where did you send the files?’

  Sam took a deep breath and glanced at Marsden. The man had been a father figure to him, had brought him through the ranks of the military and been with him through every hardship. The man had dragged him from the dark, stone room where he was bleeding out. Had brought him back from the brink.