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Hot Zone (Major Crimes Unit Book 2) Page 10
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“He was dying. Even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have wanted to be captured.”
Sarah huffed. “Captured. You speak like we’re at war.”
“We are. Maybe if you had continued to serve, you would have seen it more clearly. Was the needless bloodshed not clear to you when a British missile killed your husband? Thomas, wasn’t it? What a crime he committed, being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’m sure our government owned up to their crimes profusely. Made amends?”
Sarah shook her head. “They swept it under the rug.”
“Of course they did, as they have with uncountable other vile acts before and after. If only you’d seen the things my men have seen, Sarah. Believe me, Graves and Rupert were ready to die for the mission. I did only what I would ask for myself. I would rather die than be brought in by this government’s vipers.”
“MCU aren’t like that,” she said. “They’re good people trying to help. I know.”
“Then perhaps you shouldn’t have shot one of them. They might have had you back. Nice shot, by the way.”
Sarah frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You winged my old sergeant. Barely even touched him to be honest. The Sergeant Mattock I knew would have carried on fighting, but perhaps he’s not quite as tough as he used to be.”
Sarah had deliberately aimed at Mattock’s hip, not wanting to deliver a kill wound and not wanting to risk a ricocheting round in his centre mass. She had spread her shots wide, yet grazed Mattock a little deeper than she’d meant to. The shock had turned his lights out and left him looking dead. When Howard had spoken out to her, he obviously thought as much, but there was no way she was going to kill Mattock. He was a good man. But shooting him was bad enough for her not to want to remain in the UK a moment longer than she had to.
Major Stone had them all spread out as they entered Terminal 1. They would be suspicious as a group, so were ordered to check in separately, before gathering back as strangers at the departure gate. Their guns were all left back in the car, a treasure trove for a would-be thief and impossible to get through security. Sarah and her father took charge of Krenshaw and headed off, while Rat, Spots and Ollie split off. As most major airports usually were, Heathrow was teeming with people. It was a place without circadian rhythms — no day, no night, always busy. Airports held a lot in common with Casinos in that respect and they both had the same depressing air of exhaustion and weariness.
Sarah stood beneath the passenger information screens and scanned for her flight details. Her father nudged her and told her not to bother. “We three aren’t checking in as civilians. This way.”
Sarah followed after her father, making sure Krenshaw stayed close by. She was still surprised by the doctor’s compliance and astounded that he seemed in no way concerned. In fact, he seemed a little excited as they headed towards a security checkpoint at the far end of the check-in desks.
Her father pulled a small pouch the size of an old VHS tape and a shiny document from his coat pocket and handed it over to the unsmiling gate officer. Sarah noticed that the small pouch was stamped with the words: DIPLOMATIC BAG. The same thing was printed on Krenshaw’s briefcase, she noticed.
Sarah was impressed when the three of them were ushered through without so much as a cursory inspection, and even Krenshaw’s briefcase passed without scrutiny. The only think that got even the slightest look were the grotesque scars on her face, but that she was used to.
“We’re all travelling under diplomatic papers,” her father explained a moment later. “Our official business states we are in charge of a doctor and dangerous samples needed immediately by the World Health Organisation.”
“In Libya?” asked Sarah.
Her father shrugged. “It won’t need to pass deeper inspection. We’re already through.”
“How did you get diplomatic designation?”
“High friends in high places. The people I am working for have a great deal of clout.”
“So why do they need someone like you? You’re just a thug.”
The comment earned a scolding glance and her father’s emerald eyes drilled into her as he spoke. “Great minds don’t always have great stomachs. A driver might steer a car, but he will go nowhere without tyres on the ground. I am a tyre. I carry the drivers of this world where they need to go, and if anything gets in my way, I roll right over it.”
“I thought you were done taking orders?”
“I’m done being expendable and I’m done following orders I don’t agree with.”
“You still sound expendable to me,” she said, not sure why she was so intent on harassing her father. “Tyres get replaced. I would much rather be the driver. The driver is in control of the tyres and they go wherever he wants them to, until they wear out or burst.”
Her father’s ruddy cheeks quivered.
“I think,” Krenshaw interrupted, “that Major Stone merely used a flawed analogy. Truthfully, he is more like a syringe; surgically precise with the ability to penetrate while barely being noticed. While doctors may think themselves gods, it is the unassuming syringe that makes things happen.”
Major Stone nodded at Krenshaw in what seemed to be thanks.
Sarah cursed. “What the hell is going on here? Why is our hostage jumping to your defence? And why does he seem so perfectly content to be in our custody?”
“Because he knows what’s good for him,” said her father flatly.
“How? South Africa will be far less gentle than we are.”
“Trust me, daughter. I know what I am doing and Krenshaw understands his role. Everything is going as intended.”
Sarah glanced at Krenshaw who seemed to be smiling, if a little confused by the conversation. Her father was looking at her now in a way far softer than she was used to, and it crumbled her resolve. He seemed to be asking her to trust him, which was something he never would have cared about in the past.
She grunted, flapped her arms in defeat. “Not like I can turn back now, is it?”
“Good. Let’s go and get eyes on Rat and the others, then we can kick our heels for an hour until the flight.”
They headed into a wide eating area and sat down at an open plan cafe, ordering some drinks and snacks from the tired-looking waitress. There, they were eventually joined by Ollie, Spots, and Rat. Rat, as usual, sneered at her on sight. Ollie was far gentler and gave her a pat on the back where she was sitting alone in the corner.
“Everything go okay?” he asked her.
She nodded. “Yeah. Too easy, in fact.”
“That’s what’s so great about your father; he makes tough work seem like nothing.”
Sarah studied Ollie as he sat down opposite her. There was something very comforting about his face, maybe even something familiar. He was a soft man doing hard work, and he didn’t wear it well. “I don’t get you,” she said. “How did a man like you ever end up with a man like my father?”
“Obligation.”
“Why are you obligated to my father?”
Ollie seemed put off for a second, as if he had spoken without thinking. It became obvious when he tried to backtrack. “He’s…allowing me to make amends for what happened. My wife.”
Sarah nodded. “I don’t believe that’s all of it. You’re not a violent man — not by choice, anyway. My father rallied you to his cause, made you take up arms, but how did he do it? How did he even find you?”
Ollie sighed. “I’ve known your father a long time, Sarah, although he pretty much disappeared off the face of the earth when he joined the army. We grew up together as kids, me a few years older. Even back then, your father was tough. At school he would keep the bullies off me, even thought he was younger, even when they towered over him. He was my little bodyguard. It wasn’t because he loved me — I’m not sure he’s ever loved anyone.” He looked at her then and realised what he’s said. “Sorry. It was because of his sense of duty that he protected me, and his sense of duty is unbreakable.”
“W
hy did my father feel a sense of duty to you?” she urged.
Ollie began fiddling with his fingers and looking down at the wedding ring he still wore. “Your father never met my wife. We had already lost touch long before then, but when he found out she had died, he came immediately to visit me in Sri Lanka — again, probably because he felt a duty to do so. I found out that he had been in Sri Lanka a few times before, helping the government fight the Tamil Tigers, and he told me that he had once even looked in on me. He had seen how happy I was and felt his duty to me was complete, which was why he never reached out to me. His life and my life were too different to gel comfortably, so he stayed away. But when Darla was killed he had to come and make sure I was okay.”
“I still don’t understand,” said Sarah. “I never heard him speak about you once. Who are you to my father?”
Ollie shook his head and exhaled slowly, before looking at her and saying, “I’m your father’s brother, Sarah; your uncle. My wife was your auntie and the four-year-old son I had snatched away in the attack on my school was your cousin.”
Sarah reeled back in her chair. As a young woman she’d had no one. Her mother died young and her father had shown no interest, yet all this time she had had a kindly uncle, a man who had now been turned to killing upon her father’s influence. She floundered for a moment. “I…why didn’t you ever…I…”
Ollie shrugged. “I didn’t know you existed until six months ago. Your father and I had gone so long without contact that I grew old in the time since you were born. I’m sorry I kept it from you, but your father…”
Sarah nodded. She understood very well how her father had a way of making people dance to his tune, even if he was playing nothing but wrong notes. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m glad I know.”
“Okay, men,” said her father almost half-an-hour later. “The plane is boarding, so let’s move.”
Everyone finished their drinks and got up. When they began heading towards the gate, Sarah noticed that Krenshaw had forgotten his briefcase. He’d left it beneath one of the tables. She headed back to get it.
“Leave it, Sarah,” her father shouted.
Sarah pulled her hand away from the briefcase and frowned. “Why?”
“Because it’s set to go off.”
17
When Mattock sat up minutes after the attack, swearing and shouting, Howard almost wept. The man was part of his family and, while they may not always agree, there was a mutual respect between the two of them, as there was between all members of the MCU, which was what made Sarah’s actions extra sickening.
“She’ll pay for this,” Howard growled as he knelt beside Mattock. The grenades had made short work of the three MCU Range Rovers and Major Stone and his people had got away; but no one was seriously hurt and that was the important thing. The only people to die were two of Major Stone’s men. Men they were currently in the process of IDing.
Mattock gritted his teeth, pulled up his shirt and protective vest, and examined the damage. Blood was everywhere and Howard felt himself growing ever more furious at what his former colleague had down, but Mattock just ended up chuckling.
“Just a flesh wound,” he said. His hands were covered in fresh red blood but he seemed entirely composed. “I’m bloody embarrassed for passing out like some pansy. She barely hit me.”
“We have a team on the way,” said Jessica. “We’ll get you back to the Earthworm where I can take a proper look at you.”
“I’m fine, luv.” Mattock managed to climb to his feet, barely wincing. “Just point me in the right direction and I’m dandy.”
Howard placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I’ve got this now. Wherever Sarah and her father have gone with Krenshaw, I’ll be the one to find them.”
“Go easy on Sarah,” said Mattock.
“Why? She shot you.”
“If that bird had wanted me dead, I would be, mate. She shot to wound — barely at that. She’s not too far gone. Reach out to her.”
Howard thought about things for a minute. He’d seen Sarah shoot a gun before and it was true she knew what she was doing. There was little chance she would’ve missed the mark with a full magazine from a machine pistol. Perhaps she had intended merely to graze Mattock, but she still helped Krenshaw escape. After what he had witnessed at Whiteknight Hospital, that was unforgivable.
“Hey, I’ve got something over here.”
Howard looked around to see one of the strike team members, a young blond guy called Wilder, shouting him over. At the man’s feet was the body of an elderly gentleman, looking much frailer in death than he had in life only an hour before.
“What do you have?” Howard asked the young officer.
“I found these.” Wilder handed over what he had, then said, “Oh, that I had wings like a dove! I would fly away and be at rest.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“It’s from the bible. Seems like Major Stone and his people are planning on flying.”
Howard frowned, then took the passport and ticket from the strange young man and ran his eyes over them. The name on the documents would probably be false, but the destination was Libya. It was it pretty obvious Major Stone planned on getting out of the country.
“Can I leave you with this?” he asked Jessica, meaning the mess that was the three disabled Range Rovers and a handful of disorientated MCU agents.
“Yes, of course, but where are you going?”
Howard showed her the tickets. “There’s no way I’m letting Krenshaw leave this country. I’ll shoot him if I have to. They could still be heading for Heathrow.”
Jessica sighed. “Wait for backup, Howard.”
“Backup is here, licking its wounds.” Mattock glared but Howard continued. “Major Stone’s flight leaves in less than an hour. Someone needs to go, right now. It will take too long to assemble another team and make a plan.”
“Then have Palu ground all flights to buy us time.”
“We do that and Major Stone goes to ground. Our best chance is to pin him down at the airport where he can’t escape, but I need to move now.”
Jessica nodded slowly, knowing him well enough not to bother arguing. “Then go,” she said. “But bloody be careful.”
Howard put a call in to Mandy, MCU’s most skilled driver, and told him he needed to get to the airport quickly. Ten minutes later, he was picked up by a sleek black Jaguar. Mandy spoke little, so Howard stated his destination. “Get me to Heathrow.”
18
Mandy dropped Howard right outside the entrance to Terminal 1. Howard wasted no time rushing inside. He flashed his badge at airport security and was let through the check-in barriers without question. Palu had called ahead and airport security were ready and waiting to help in whatever ways it could. The leader of the security force was a short man named Tariq Riaz.
“What do you need from my team?” asked Tariq obligingly.
Howard told him. “I need a radio that I can reach you on. We are looking for a small group of men, and a woman with a badly scarred face.”
“Should be easy enough to find. Here, take my radio. Set it to ‘wide’ and you’ll broadcast to every member of the team. There are over a hundred of us in total, more than enough to handle whatever you need.”
“Good. I don’t want anyone getting hurt, so I’m going to try and get a view of the targets before deciding how to proceed. I’ll head to the gate and see if I can get eyes on, but if your men spot the targets first I want to know right away.”
Tariq nodded. “Of course. Is it true that one of the men you’re after is responsible for the Ebola epidemic in Reading?”
“How did you know that?”
“The news. I just got an update about a firefight in Watford involving MCU and a man suspected for the Reading outbreak. Now, here you are, another MCU agent, chasing down a group of dangerous men.”
The local police must have arrived on scene after Howard had left Mattock, Jessica, and the others. Once the loca
l police got wind of anything, it went straight to the attention of the press.
Howard smiled. “You’re smart. That’s good. And you’re correct, one of the men is responsible for Ebola Reading. He is extremely dangerous, so help me catch the sonofabitch.”
“I’ll do whatever you need me to,” said Tariq.
Howard rushed off towards the appropriate departure gate, staying close to the walls and trying to merge with the various groups travelling. It was difficult to blend in with the various families, businessmen, and lovers on route to exotic destinations. He was the only one not wearing sandals and t-shirt, or formal business attire; not to mention that those travelling to Libya specifically wore the traditional gowns of that country. Howard stuck out like a sore thumb in his cheap suit and tie. He decided to roll up his sleeves, ditch the tie, and unbutton his collar. He also took the time to quickly purchase a baseball cap from one of the stores. It wasn’t a perfect disguise, but it didn’t need to be.
A ringing sound made him flinch and he realised it was his mobsat. He answered the call and it was Palu.
“Howard, the remainder of Mattock’s team are finishing up with the local police and will be on your location in twenty. Can you hold things that long?”
“No. The flight to Libya leaves in twenty minutes. I have airport security helping me, so I will have to bring the targets in myself.”
Palu breathed down the phone. “Okay. Are you armed?”
“Yes.”
“I suspect Major Stone will be also.”
“How would he get a gun through check-in?”
“Diplomatic papers. The entire team here at the Earthworm is working the Intel, and as part of that we ran every single check-in confirmed through Heathrow in the last hour. Three people were passed through as diplomats. Two men and a woman. When one of the analysts called up to confirm details, the officer in charge described the female in the group as ‘a freak’. Upon elaboration he said that her face was badly scarred.”