Agent 21 (28 page)

The body doubles didn’t wait. Two of them sprinted up the stairs, another went down to the basement, one
into Martinez’s office and one hunkered down by the birdcage. Martinez himself led Cruz, Raul and the remaining guard towards the front of the house. A black 4 by 4 with darkened windows was waiting for them, but as they stepped out into the open, Martinez realized he had a problem. The Black Hawk had completed its circle of the perimeter, which meant the observation posts had been cleared of armed guards. Now it was setting itself down right in front of the only exit to the compound. If they were going to leave, they had to get past the chopper first. And that was never going to happen.

‘Back inside,’ shouted Martinez, just as the side door of the Black Hawk opened up and two shooters jumped out. They started raining covering fire towards the house as another six or seven people spilled out of the helicopter. Martinez followed the others, into the relative safety of the house.

‘
What’s happening?
’ screamed Raul. Martinez looked in disgust at his nephew, who was unable to keep control of himself, and spoke instead to Cruz.

‘Hide,’ he said. ‘They are coming for me, not you.’ He waved his arm around. ‘If they get me, all this is yours. The business, the men . . . everything. Do not disappoint me.’

Cruz turned to the guard. ‘Give me your gun,’ he said.

The guard looked shocked that Cruz had spoken to him like that.

‘
Give it to me
.’

The man handed over the M16. It was fitted with a silencer to suppress the noise, and Cruz held it firmly. Even Raul looked taken aback by the determination in the face of Martinez’s son.

‘
I
will not disappoint you, Father,’ Cruz said.

The chopper touched down. Two members of the unit jumped from the body of the aircraft and started laying down covering fire. The air stank of cordite.

‘Stick close to me,’ Gabs told Zak. They exited along with the rest of the unit.

Zak, Raf, Gabs and the four commandos approached the house using a leapfrog formation: two of them holding back to give cover while the others advanced ten metres, then covered the other two while they caught up. It took about a minute to reach the house like this. When they did, Zak and Gabs led the way into the atrium, followed by the others.

It was empty. There was no noise apart from the chirruping of the birds in their cage, and the distant rotary blades of the chopper out in the grounds. Raf took charge. He pointed at Gabs and two of the commandos, then at the stairs. Gabs mouthed
the words ‘follow me’ at Zak, and the four of them moved swiftly up to the first floor.

One of the commandos took the lead, his assault rifle pressed tightly in to his shoulder. Gabs was carrying a Colt automatic pistol and went next, with Zak beside her. The second commando followed.

The upstairs corridors were deserted, but Zak’s heart was in his mouth every time they turned a corner. They passed the door to Zak’s room. The two commandos burst in, guns at the ready; but it was empty. The same went for the room beyond it – the one Zak had entered via the roof the day before.

The third room they tried was Cruz’s. Here they struck gold.

Martinez – or a version of him – was cowering behind the bed.

‘Get up,’ hissed one of the commandos in Spanish.

‘Please,’ begged the lookalike. ‘Do not shoot . . .’

‘Is that him?’ Gabs asked.

Zak stared at the man. It was almost impossible to tell, but . . . ‘I don’t think so,’ he said.

‘Get him downstairs,’ Gabs told the commando.

‘Roger that.’

The rest of them continued their sweep of the first floor.

They found the second body double – if that’s what he was – behind the door of an ornate bathroom. His
face twitched in terror and he put his hands up the moment he saw them. The remaining commando took him down to the ground floor, which left Gabs and Zak to continue the sweep.

‘Stay close,’ she breathed as they continued down the corridor.

They moved silently, checking two more rooms, one on the left and one on the right, before coming to a turn in the corridor.

A quick nod and they turned the corner.

Zak had only taken a couple of paces when he heard two shots from behind – suppressed shots from a silencer, as quiet as someone knocking on a door. The overhead lights in the corridor shattered, like broken ice and Zak felt something cold and hard pressed against the back of his neck, between the helmet and the body armour.

A voice.

It was Cruz.

‘Drop your gun,’ he said. ‘Otherwise I’ll kill Harry.’

Zak could see the shape of Gabs’s body in the gloom up ahead. She spun round, her weapon pointing out in front of her.

‘
Drop it
,’ Cruz hissed.

A dangerous look crossed Gabs’s face, but she lowered her weapon and laid it on the floor.

‘Put your hands on your head, both of you,’ Cruz
instructed. ‘Now turn around. We’re going back to the atrium and you’re going to tell these intruders to leave my father’s house. Unless you want me to kill Harry, that is.’

‘Cruz,’ Zak said. ‘
You’re
not in danger. You can come with us . . .’

‘Shut up, Harry. You’ve made enough trouble for yourself today. You’re not going anywhere.’

‘We’ve closed down the compound, Cruz. You can’t win this.’

‘Aren’t you the one that told me I should stick up for myself?’

‘Cruz, I can help you—’

‘
Shut up!
’

They walked in a line: Gabs first, then Zak, then Cruz, who kept his weapon dug firmly into Zak’s neck. Thirty seconds later, they passed his room, which meant they were nearly at the top of the stairs. He had to do something – and fast.

He checked ahead. Gabs was walking in front of him and slightly to the left. If he moved, Cruz would be aiming just to her right . . .

It was a sudden movement. It had to be if he was to keep the element of surprise. Zak jerked his head to the left. For a millisecond, Cruz’s weapon was pointing not into his neck, but over his shoulder. Zak dug his right heel into Cruz’s shin. The gangly boy gasped
in pain and the sound made Gabs spin round. In the confusion, Cruz fired a single shot. It slammed into Gabs’s chest and she span round from the impact and fell down onto her face.

‘
Gabs! No!
’

Zak turned round. Cruz was re-setting his gun, lowering it so he could take aim. Zak clenched his fist, swung his arm and punched Cruz in the side of the face. The Mexican boy staggered against the wall, but he still had his gun. Zak did a high kick, whacking his right foot against Cruz’s wrist. The assault rifle clattered to the floor. Zak grabbed his pistol from his belt and held it up to Cruz.

Blood dripped from Cruz’s nose and his eyes burned with hate. ‘I thought you were my friend,’ he hissed.

‘Last time I checked,’ Zak replied, ‘friends don’t try to kill each other.’ He glanced down at Gabs’s motionless body. Tears of anger came to his eyes. ‘
She
was my friend,’ he said. He twitched the gun in the direction of the stairs. ‘Move,’ he instructed. ‘If you say a word, you’ll be next.’

The tables were turned. Zak forced Cruz down the corridor. He tried not to think of what had just happened to Gabs. She wouldn’t want him to. She’d just tell him to keep his mind on the job.

Not easy. Not easy at all.

As they approached the landing overlooking the atrium, they stopped.

‘Get on the floor,’ Zak whispered. Cruz lay down on his front while Zak peered down to see what was going on.

Raf was in the atrium. Four of Martinez’s guards were face down on the floor, their hands cuffed behind their backs. Raul was cowering in a corner, trembling like a frightened animal – so much for
his
bravado. Six men were lined out in front of Raf: six identical versions of Cesar Martinez Toledo. Only one of them was the real drug lord. He couldn’t see any of the commandos.

He knew he needed to identify the real Martinez, and he had a plan to do it. But he had to wait for the right moment, so he stepped back and hid himself from view.

Raf spoke into his comms unit. ‘
Come in, Gabs. We’ve rounded up the body doubles. We need Agent 21
.’ He was careful not to say Zak’s real name.

‘Do you copy, Gabs? Do you
copy
?’

Radio silence.

He cursed. What was happening up there?
What was happening?

Raf turned to the line of body doubles. One of these was the real Cesar Martinez Toledo. But only one. He
couldn’t believe how identical they were – down to the exact fatness of the face and the tiny mole on the left-hand cheek. They were all in night attire and, frankly, they all looked terrified. Raf raised his gun and pointed it at each one in turn, looking into their eyes, hoping to see something. Some kind of clue.

There was nothing.

A voice came over his comms. It was one of the commandos he had stationed outside the house in case any of the perimeter guards got brave. ‘
Mexican police chopper overhead. We need to extract
.’

‘Roger that.’ He swore under his breath. They’d spent too long in the compound already. He needed Gabs and Zak.
Where were they?

He couldn’t wait for them. The sand was running out of the egg timer. No doubt the Mexican police were here to help Martinez and if they caught this deniable unit, there’d be hell to pay. He needed to identify Martinez for himself. Raf stared at the lookalikes. ‘You’re scared,’ he said quickly in Spanish. ‘You think that the real Martinez will hurt you or your families if you betray him now. Well, think again. We’re not leaving here until the real Martinez is in custody. He can’t threaten you any more. You’re safe.’

Nothing from the lookalikes except a blank look.

Raf didn’t give up. He walked up and down the line of body doubles, examining their faces carefully. ‘You
all want Martinez behind bars just as much as I do. You
know
he’s a monster. You
know
he’s a murderer. Now’s your chance to see to it that he pays for his crimes.’

Still nothing. The body doubles stared straight ahead, acting like he wasn’t even there.

Fine, thought Raf. The promises hadn’t worked. The appeal hadn’t worked. That meant it was time to start on the threats . . .

‘Y
ou know he’s a monster. You know he’s a murderer. Now’s your chance to see to it that he pays for his crimes
.’

From his hiding place on the top floor, Zak could hear every word. He could also sense Cruz’s anger. Raf was right – Martinez
was
a monster and a murderer. Zak knew that better than anyone. But to Cruz, he was just a father.

Raf’s voice reached them. ‘OK,’ he announced. ‘Here’s the deal. The fake Martinezes take a step backwards on the count of three. Otherwise, I kill the lot of you before we leave.’

Cruz hissed, so Zak bent down and put the gun to his head. ‘I mean it, Cruz. Just one word . . .’

‘One . . .’ Raf shouted.

Zak’s mind turned over. He knew the kind of fear the body doubles had for Martinez. He knew they wouldn’t betray him, even now.

‘Two . . .’

When Raf counted to three, he’d have played all his cards. The real Martinez would be feeling confident, but that might make him more vulnerable . . .

‘Three . . .’

A pause.

‘
Damn it, Gabs!
’ Raf’s voice was full of frustration. ‘
Where are you?
’

Now was the time to move. Zak grabbed Cruz by his shirt collar and quickly pulled him to his feet. He dragged him the three or four metres to the top of the staircase and pushed him so he staggered down the steps. Raf turned to look at him. ‘
What are you doing?
’ he bellowed, but Zak ignored him.

Zak trotted down the steps, aiming his gun at Cruz. ‘Say bye-bye to your son!’ he shouted.

There was no doubting the real Martinez. He was three from the left and the moment he saw his son in danger, he stepped forward. With a sudden, sharp movement, he whacked Raf on the shoulder. The guardian angel crumpled, dropping his gun, which Martinez picked up and – with obvious skill – aimed directly at Zak.

He fired. A burst of fire, and a single round caught Zak on the side of his right arm. A flash of red, and his gun went spinning. Zak collapsed onto the stairs,
blood gushing from his arm, wincing with the sudden, sharp pain.

Martinez was shouting. ‘You dare to threaten my son?
You dare to threaten my son?
’ All the body doubles scrambled and so did Raul, leaving Martinez alone at the bottom of the stairs with Raf unconscious at his feet and Cruz escaping towards him.

He turned back to Zak. ‘And now, Agent 21, whoever you are, you will pay the price for your arrogance! You will pay the price for crossing Cesar Martinez Toledo!’

Martinez fixed Zak with his mad eyes.

He dug the butt of the assault rifle into his shoulder, ready to fire.

But the sound that filled the atrium was not the burst of automatic fire. It was a dead, wooden noise – a single shot from a suppressed weapon, and it came from the first floor. The round hit Martinez in the chest and threw him onto his back.