BlindFire (24 page)

  "Did he say anything before he passed out?"

  "Yes."  Beth saw her chance to give them some information. "He said his name was Major Rothschild and that he was in the Army."

  "I see." 
T
he Doctor
said and scribbled
something in a notebook. "You did well to get him here so fast. You saved his life."

  "He's going to live then."

  "Oh I should think so. He lost a lot of blood, but he's quite stable now."

  "Could I stay with him until he wakes up?"

  The Doctor nodded then said: "Yes alright, but don't touch anything. He's in the last room on the left
… The police will want to speak to you! They’re on the way.
"

  Beth closed her eyes
, she really wanted to stay but it was clearly time to leave.

***

   Danny
edg
ed up to the corner of a building
and peered down the street. Not only was he hunting his man, but it was becoming a serious pr
oblem avoiding Army patrols. This
street was clear except for the usual odd car here and there.

  There was no sign of McKay he could have sprouted
wings and flown away for all Danny
knew. He had to keep looki
ng though even if it meant going outside
the City
limits and in to the sticks
.

Noticing a phone box he
checked  for coins  in  his  pocket
,
  he  had  a  couple  and 
he
just  had  to  know  how  the  Major was  doing.

  He  thought  it  was  red  paint  at
  first,  but  it  smeared
onto
his  hands. Jack  had  been in
  t
hat  phone  box and he was bleeding badly,   at  least  Danny  knew  he  was o
n the right track now
.
Wiping his hands on his trousers he looked around.  He  couldn't  begin  to
  imagine
what  a  crazy  like  McKay  might  do  next.

  He   walked  up  the  street  searching  every  alleyway  for  signs  of  life,  every doorway  for  sulking  shadows  and  every  parked  car  for  blood  smears.

  There was nothing the trail had gone cold again
. Danny
realized he was cold and he needed something to eat. There  was  always  an  all  night  cafe at  train  stations  and  according  to  the signs, there was one just down the street.
Someone might have seen or heard something.

  The  bright  lights  of  the  station  hurt  his  eyes  at  first.  He closed them tight and twisted his neck relieving the tension.  It  was  warm  in  the  small cafe  and  it  smelled  of  frying  bacon.  The  attendant  didn't  seem  to  notice the  Spas  a
nd  asked  for  the  order.  Danny
  wolfed  down  a  bacon  sandwich and  a  cup  of  hot  tea  in  seconds.

  "You look terrible mate."

  Danny
looked up from his tea.

  "There’s blood on y
our face.  Been in a fight or something
?"

  "Or something..!"  Replied Danny
wearily.

  "Well  there's  some  toilets  on  platform  two  if  you  want  to  clean  up  a  bit."

  "Great,
thanks I might
just do that."

  "You can help the
guy that limped past here earlier."

  Danny’s
face changed from one of utter
failure
to abrupt realisation.
"What ..?
"
He blurted

  "He was in quite a bad way......
Must have
cut his leg or something. "

  Danny
was gone
in a second,
sprinting like a madman only stopping briefly at each Sign to find his way. Platform two, there it was. He ran harder when he saw the
toilets and cocked the Spas.

  Jack had definitely been there, piles of blood soaked toilet paper lay
discarded in the sinks and a smiling face had been defiantly drawn on blood soaked mirrors.

 
Next the Tanto came out as Danny
turned to see a cubicle engaged. There was
movement in there, the rustle of paper and the sound of a zip being pulled up.
When the toilet flushed Danny
braced himself for the final confrontation, and
then the door slowly opened. The old man inside took one step out saw the Tanto
and rushed back inside bolting the door.

  "If you want my mo
ney..?
Here." A pile of notes swep
t under the door. "...Take it..!
It’s yours."

  There was only silence; his crazed attacker had already gone jogging to the next platform.

  “Mckay...."  Danny
cried out as he saw
his prey hobbling across an old metal bridge above the rail lines.

  Ja
ck stopped and turned. "Y
ou
..
?"  He hissed. He couldn't run anymore
his leg was losing too much blood. Waving his tormentor on he leaned against the railings in excruciating pain.

  Danny
didn't need asking twice, he was on the bridge in seconds.

  "Well well
...
Here we are at last!
” Jack
s
narled, a tone of recognition cutting across his voice.

  Danny
edged forward unclasping the Spas
and
allowing it to clatter to the stone floor

 
"
We finish this right now!"  He s
aid
. “I hear you like your victims to know the name of the man that killed them..! Well my name is Danny Stone!”

  Jack couldn't stop the smile spreading over his disheveled face. The idiot had actually thrown his weapon away. "That
's a nice piece you had there..! Do you mind if I keep it as a souvenir? As a memento of this glorious night.
”

  Danny moved forward again. "If you’re still alive in three minutes its all yours!
"

  Jack painfully stood his ground. There was something to fear in the ice
cold stare which held him ca
ptive. "What about the knife..?
"

 
Danny
thought for a second and threw the knife, watching as it smashed to the
lines below and t
hen
he said
.
"You killed my wife!”

"You killed mine first..!
"

  "You’ve destroyed my family?
"

  Jack trembled with a strange mixture of
excitement and fear. "You did that yourself? The day you killed my poor wee girl; she was only eighteen years old and you shot her dead!”

  “Then you really shouldn’t have let her run around wearing a balaclava and murdering soldiers.”

  “I loved her
."
cried
Jack
and
let
ting out a piercing cry he threw himself at Danny
smashing his man in to the railings gripping his throat with vicious energy.

 
Snapping his knee up
Danny
struck hard between Jacks legs then head butted
him repeatedly forcing him back with every strike.

   Scorching pain forced the Irishman to clutch the dark congealing patch on his leg
and then
he fell to one knee
rasping in agony. A
concussive
punch to the head knocked
him to the floor writhing in pain as his deranged attacker rained clenched fist and boot upon his victim.
Now completely out of breath Danny
stood and stumbled back against the metal railings seething with hatred.

  Jack coughed barely aware of his surroundings; a trickle of blood oozed freely from his
left
ear
flowing across his face and meeting
up with the one from his smashed nose
before dribbling down and dripping onto his chest
.

  T
he sheer ferocity of his vengeance had taken a huge toll on Danny’s
energy reserves. The railings
were
a savior from the great iron monster rushing past below. He watched the slow rise of his opponent with disbelief. Everything seemed to be in slow motion, or was it just his brain reacting to imminent danger
.

   Jack summoned the last reserves of his floundering
strength and lunged forward; Danny
sidestepped and twisted out of the way. The Irishm
an screamed hysterically as Danny
reached down and grasped his testicles, ripping them skyward using every ounce of muscle to prize the squealing killer over the railings and in to the path of the speeding intercity below.

  Physically and emotionally destroyed and no longer able to support himself he sank to the floo
r, listening to the train fading
in to the night
.

***

127

BlindFire

CHAPTER   9

Present Day

  The security procedures now in use at Force Four prevented any unwanted guests; even the postman had cause for complaint.

  "This is for Mrs. Stone
." He said and held a package up to the camera.

  Danny
pressed the entry button and a few moments later a disgruntled posty arrived at an open door.

  "Thanks...”  Danny said and took the parcel
. He
k
new what it was straight away from the shape and size. "
You w
ant me to sign a
nything?
"

  "Nah.
.!
"
T
he Londoner
replied
and left.

  Their third annive
rsary was only days away and Danny
still didn't know what to buy Beth. This package would help toward making up for forgetting her birthday the month before; it was a set of brochures. He smiled at his own smug reflection in the mirror and thought of the
West Indies
this time of year.

  It was nearly nine o’clock Beth should have been back by
now after dropping Sahra off at university
. He was just about to have a look at the close circuit television monitor when the telephone suddenly rang.

  "Force Four." Danny said and
sn
atched the receiver up. "
Hello Colonel Rothschild ho
w are things in
Afghanistan
."

  The line was difficult, Danny
could hardly hear amid the crackling and dead spots.                                            

"Fine."
T
he
newly promoted
Colonel
said
into his handset. "I should be back next week then we can sort out the contracts."

  Danny
couldn't imagine John as a civvy. He was retiring next month after twenty two years service.
After the Mckay affair he had been promoted to Colonel and given his dream posting at 22 Special Air Service Regiment
Even better still he had decided to join Force Four and plough all of his retirement money in to the young security company.

  "Great..... The papers are here waiting for you."

  "Have you heard from Gunter?"

  "Yes... Yes we finalized the deal with the Royal Bank of
Saudi Arabia
. He's out there now testing their security systems."

  The Colonel rolled his eyes in surprise. "Tell him to give the money back when he's finished...... Oh and say Hi to the family. Must dash."

  "See you later." Danny
s
aid but the line was already dead.

  As soon as he replaced the receiv
er the Telephone rang again. Danny
ignored it knowing that the answering machine would take care of it. After several rings.
“Hello." Beths voice
s
aid. "You have reached Force Four Security. Please leave a message after the tone."  BLEEP.

  There was a silence for a second then a whisper as the caller seemed t
o clear his throat. "Hello Danny
." Said the voi
ce. "Guess who missed the train?
"

    The all
too familiar Irish Brogue
of a man long since dead physically stopped Danny
in his tracks. He closed his eyes tight and waited, almost knowing what it was going to say next.

  "I know you're there Danny
, I can see you."  Then silence again.

  Danny
ripped the
receiver from its cradle. "...
I killed you. You’re
dead." He growled.

  "......Sorry to disappoint an old friend like 'yourself' but I really did miss
that train."

  "What
do you want?"

  Then he heard her scream in the background. There was no mistaking the horrifying fact that Jack Mckay was not only very alive but also had Beth.

  "Did you hear that.....? Want me to te
ll you how I made her scream..?
Want me to
tell you where I had my fingers?
"

  "Don't you touch her."

  "Danny
, their lives depend on you doing exactly what I say. Call the police and they die
. Not only will they die but I’ll enjoy doing it
." The Irish voice had a disturbing sincerity to it.

  "You said they..."

  "Oh ye
s. I almost forgot.... Young Sahra is
here too
, my how she's grown into a beautiful young lady.... I won’t miss her this time
."

  "Your problem is with me
! Let them go and I’
ll meet you anywhere."

The phone line went dead. "No." He cried
then had an idea and telephoned Beths mobile number.

   Jack answered straight away as if he had been expecting it. "...Don't call me I'll call you." Spat the Irishman and switched Beths mobile phone
off.

  "Come back..." Danny Shouted
.

***

The office alone seemed to be worth millions. Paintings from some of the worlds greatest Artists hung on every wall, Statues by old masters held pride of place by the huge windows and the pile on the carpet so thick Gunter felt he was wading in velvet grass. The meeting was almost over now. These Arabs seemed to take their time doing everything; he had been in there all day and was exhausted.

  He found his gaze being drawn once again to the Kalashnikov mounted
on the wall, somehow out of place amongst the regal splendor.

  "You like my AK47."
T
he manager of the Royal bank of
Riyadh
asked. "I bought
it during the Gulf war from a British soldier."

  Gunter smiled.

  "I drove all the way to
Kuwait
in my Mercedes and paid two thousand American dollars for four of them.

  Gunter waved a critical finger.  "That was a very dangerous thing to do."

  The manager grimaced. "I was had..." He said obviously embarrassed. "We didn't realise until we got back that they were all
useless. They were… As you say… Mere scrap!
"

  "Well you just leave your security to us Sir.  That's what we are here fo
r
......"

  A telephone
suddenly
bleeped.

"It must be yours." Said the Manager and put his back on the huge desk.

  "Excuse me." Said Gunter t
o the Arab. "..... Hello.... Danny
. Yes I understand, are they alright? I'll be there in the morning.... bye. "He turned the phone off got up and walked out the door only stopping to apologize to the manager for his rudeness. It didn't matter anyway the Arabs had already signed up to Force Four for the next five years.

   Gunter hurried to his hotel and packed. He couldn't help but worry, Sahra had become like a daughter to him and Beth, and well she had married the wrong man. It was pride that kept him quiet, and love,
love for the family he had adopted all
those years before on a blood stained bridge in
Belfast
. If they were to die Gunter swore he would rip the world apart looking for Mckay.

  The flight home wasn't for another three hours yet. At least he could plan, make notes and concentrate his mind on Mckay perhaps come up with some sort of profile. He never had thanked John for making him go on that course with the Metropolitan Police force.

***

       The building shook again as another shell landed near the b
oiler house. "Those damned Taliban." The Colonel snapped.

  The shelling had be
en going on for hours; the Taliban actually believed they were going to release one of their captured leaders
.
Little did they know they were just infuriating the visiting Commanding Officer of 22 SAS Regiment.

  Engineers
continued to work
under fire
, repairing sand bag
s and blocking holes in the outer walls of the compound. Medics
tended to t
he light casualties while a troop of Marine Commandoes primed
their M109's
and prepared to go on the offensive
.

  The Colonel punched his desk in
anger. "That's it..!
Enough."

  A Captain marking the battle board looked up from his tedious task. "Something wrong Sir."

  "Are any of my Recce teams back in yet...?”

  "Yes Charley fire team returned an hour ago.... They're resting sir."

  "Get them up on to
that ridge.... I want those mortars
silenced."

  "But Sir....."

  Rising to his full height the Colonel imposed his authority on the captain. "I know they are tired but t
hey chose to join the SAS, no one ever said this was going to be easy..! Now silence those mortars
."

   "Yes Sir." He left just as Radio Operator came in with some news.

   "Excus
e me Sir. We just received
a message on
secure means for you to contact… Something called
Force Four immediately."

"How the hell......"

  The operator shrugged.
”Don't ask Sir.... This guy just relayed it here via British Telecoms satellite system and ITN's info network."

  After all these years Danny
still managed to surprise him every now and then with his electronic gadgets. When he dialed someone
immediately
picked up the phone at the other end.

  "
I don't believe you did that
."

  "Mckay is alive.”
Danny
s
houted his v
oice still shaky from the shock
.

  The Maj
or stiffened. It wasn't like his old friend
to joke abo
ut this sort of thing
but he had to ask. "....You're joking right."

  "No.... He's got Beth and Sahra
..!
He says he will kill them unless we do as he says."

  "OK. Calm down I'm on my way.... Stay by the phone and try to stall him until I arrive."

  The Colonel had been in the game too long not to smell a rat when it poked its head up. The
Northern Ireland
piece talks
were only one week away, he thought it was strange that Mckay would surface now after all this time.
It was hardly that surprising though, no body had ever been found.

  It didn't take more than five minutes to pack, everything fitted nicely in to a DPM Bergen, then his sleeping system strapped on top. He simply couldn't stop thinking about McKay’s timing or motive, and of course, there were his hostages to think about.

   In
Afghanistan
surface transport was som
ething you tried to avoid with the ever present threat of IED’s. Luckily he managed to get on an outgoing Chinook on its way to
camp
Bastian
. Within six hours he was on a Hercules transport aircraft and on his
way home.

***

  Beth came to, and felt the dried blood on the side of her face. She cried out for Sahra, but there was no reply. The room was cold and damp and stank of oil; some one had been living there recently. Old blankets lay tangled near the far wall and empty bean cans overflowed from a bin liner.

  It was a sensation more than anything, a slow and painful realisation of intimate interference. Her blouse had been ripped from her chest exposing her red bra and her jeans were unzipped.

  She began sobbing hysterically. "You bastard.... Bastard......"

   Her fears turned to Sahra. She screamed her name again and again until her throat ached. She thought of Mckay and what he could be doing to her right now. Somehow her brain refused those thoughts and turned them to escape, if she could only get help. The ropes had already cut deep into her wrists and ankles, any kind of movement meant searing jolts of pain.

  The approach of a vehicle caught her attention; she concentrated hard on the sound of the engine as the driver changed down gear then came to a halt. After the doors were slammed all she could hear was muffled talking.