BlindFire (33 page)

  "Ladies and Gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to introduce a man of peace.... I give you.... The Prime minister of
England
."

  That forced smile now replaced by a cheesy grin and arms raised in thanks the man himself strutted on to the stage to a raucous applause.

  "Thank you, thank you." He repeated knowing full well that the only members of the audience who heard him were those who could lip-read.

Soon there was calm and the Premier began his speech in earnest. "This Government has stridden long and hard to make today possible. Only by sitting everyone down around a sturdy table can we aim to achieve any sort of lasting peace here today......"

   Jack cursed through gritted teeth, the voice activated detonator had failed miserably. He would now be forced to trigger the device himself.
 

If he
had been close enough he might have noticed an anxious glance the speaker gave
one particular microphone or seen
his hands trembling. If Jack
had been looking he may  have
caught sight of those dry parched lips and those shiny wet  beads of sweat trickling  slowly down his cheeks.

  Once again the Prime minister raised his hands begging for quiet and then continued.  "
Belfast
h
as been peaceful for well over ten
year
s
now and it should remain that way for ever. Most of the good people of that grea
t city had
never known peace;
they had
never known absolute freedom. They have lived daily in the shadow of death, and this Prime minister for one, thinks it's time the sun of deliverance shone once again."

***

  Moving slowly
through the rows of people, Danny
searched for that one face, that one unforgettable mask of malicious evil. His eyes met with Günter’s for a second and both men gave a slight shake of the head.

  The
plan was simple. Gunter and Danny
would start at the front row and work their way back whilst Beth and the Colonel would cover the outer corridors. There was no way out alive; SAS snipers had the building surrounded. Their brief had been short and to the point, if you get a positive ID, shoot to kill.

  The audience suddenly erupted, applauding
the speakers’ last comments. Danny
moved on to the next row and waited for some of the more appreciative to sit back down again. Looking over he could see Gunter further up the isle obviously making speedier progress, and decided on only a cursory check of the next few rows. In complete and utter desperation he tried in vain to scan the whole audience, and then something
o
ccurred to him. Of course there was only one exit and that wa
s situated on the back wall. Would Jack need an exit? Unable to bring his own weapon to the party he’d want to be near one if anything went wrong.

  "Gunter." Danny whispered
in to the mic which had been covertly attached to the underside of his tie. “The back wall.... He's on the back wall
, he’ll be standing near a policeman
." He could just see the big German give a thumbs up. "John.... Beth did yo
u hear that?" He added hurriedly
.

  "On our way."

***

   He had been standing for a full twenty minutes now and the searing pain in his leg was becoming unbearable. Jack couldn't believe the shit the man on the stage was spieling, the lies and the deceit were one thing but the slimy
'used car
salesman' delivery was too much. He had to do it soon; he had to press that button before he was sick. The police still seemed preoccupied and stared suspiciously at anyone who moved a muscle in the wrong direction. The Irishman began to prepare himself mentally, to reach in to the darkest depths of cold and calculating mind and retrieve the Jack of old. The Jack who was not afraid to die for his beloved country.

  It was time, the crowds were clapping wildly again. Jack reached down and grasped the camera firmly. The nearest armed Policeman had moved closer and was now less than five feet away. Drawing the camera up his body he looked through the view finder at the Premier.

  "Say cheese."  He snarled and slowly he pressed the button. If it had been a real camera it could have taken a picture of the Prime minister
who was just
about
to begin speaking again.

  ".....Thank you..... Thank you."

  Jacks mouth dropped in astonishment, momentarily confused, and then he shook the camera and pressed the button again. Still the bomb failed to ignite and still the target spoke.

  The pain was no longer with him, forced from his mind by a white rage. A rage so intense it compelled him to the side of the police officer in what seemed like slow-motion. One hand went for the MP5 whilst the other snatched a
Stanley
knife from his trouser pocket. The knife seemed alive as it flashed through the air slashing his face from ear to ear and then his eyes. The small razor sharp blade now moved down and cut the weapon sling holding the automatic over his shoulder.

  Screams of excruciating pain filled the hall as the blood-soaked policeman held his eyes and fell to his knees. Jack spun around to face the crowd, and instantly became aware of a familiar face staring out of the crowds.

"Stone.... You’re a dead man!
" The weapon danced in his hands as he let rip with a short burst over their heads. The crowd screamed and fought to get cover on the floor.

  Without warning the door was suddenly thrown open, and before Beth had time to react Jack grabbed her hair and rammed the barrel of his MP5 in her left ear. "If any of you bastards move I'll blow her fucking head off." He snarled

  "No."  The scream of defiance was more a summoning of strength than a refusal. Beth twisted her body sharply to put her attacker off balance at the same time pushed the barrel skyward. There was a deafening explosion as rounds smashed in to the ceiling showering everyon
e with falling plaster. Both Danny
and Gunter rushed forward to join the struggle, and then
a
single shot rang out. Jack seemed to buckle forward as if a bolt of lightening had hit him, his eyes opened and his mouth dropped. The MP5 clattered to the ground as he released his grip on Beth and stumbled forward holding out his arms.

  A dark patch of blood began to seep from his stomach and trickle on to the carpeted floor. Jack felt detached, like he was an observer and all this was happening to someone else. He turned to see who had shot him and recognised the Colonel at once.

  "I suppose you're satisfied now?" He spat as blood filled his mouth and oozed down his chin.

  "Where's the girl?"

  Jack sagged to his knees, his legs no longer abl
e to support his own weight. "One
more death
.
.
!
" He mumbled. "Too........ 
Ti
red."

  Danny
seized him by the throat and forced the bleeding Irishman
on to his back. "Where
is my daughter?"

  "One
more death.
.!
"

  "I asked you a
question."

  With a final labored struggle, Jack reached in to his pocket, pulled out a piece of
paper and thrust it in to Danny’s
chest. "Hurry now...” He said with his last breath and died. The note read:-

           
Your girl is tied up in my van

              exactly one mile
East of this building

   
         Better hurry Danny,
my bomb won't wait.

            
It will explode at nine thirty if I’m not around to diffuse it.

              P.S.
  It’s been emotional,  t
ry not to miss me too much.

  Danny
  handed  the  crumpled piece  of  paper to Gunter  and  rushed  over  to  the  Colonel. "I need a car.... I need a car NOW."

  "
Not in this traffic..! Run
, for god sake run."

  "It's too far." He screamed in desperation.

  "You've got about four minutes by my watch... GO...
Just go
."

   There was no
more time to think about it. Danny
was off, pushing and shoving his way through the panicking crowds. "Get out of my way!" He yelled pushing a photographer aside. “For
Christ
sakes move!" Panic and the thought of Sahra going up in a ball of flames drove him on, and then he was outside and on the main street running. Realising he was at full sprint
and couldn’t maintain the pace
he slowed slightly to his normal cross-country rhythm, he wasn't going to save anybody by having a heart attack.

  By the time he had done half of a mile he could feel the burning in his legs. He concentrated on his breathing and increased his pace. A five and a half minute mile wouldn't normally have been a problem, but running in stiff leather shoes and a two hundred pound suit never is going to be easy.

  There it was, five hundred meters away, parked in a garage forecourt. Now he was sprinting, pumping his legs and arms like pistons and trying desperately not to think of the pain racking his body. Two hundred meters to go and horror as he heard the bells of a nearby church ringing the half hour.

  With a contorted face of pain and gritted teeth he dug deeper. He sought
that
last ounce of speed, that one last burst of energy. Twenty meters to go and he was still aware of the ringing bells, ten meters and then finally his body impacted the van at speed jarring it forward. He seemed to bounce off and open the doors at the same time. There she was curled up in a shivering ball.

  "Sahra?" He cried breathlessly and swept her up in to his arms. "There's a bomb we have to hurry."

  The bells had stopped ringing and s
till there was no explosion. Danny
placed Sahra down on the ground and looked at his watch. It was almost twenty five to the hour.

  "Daddy, there's no bomb." Said Sahra still shielding her eyes from the br
ight daylight. "He said he wouldn't hurt me
!"

  Danny
slid down the wall exhausted from his run and sat beside his daughter
. He looked at her and smiled. “It’s over Sahra..! Jack Mckay really is dead this time..!”

The End…