DELIVERANCE: a gripping action thriller full of suspense (17 page)

Charlie opens his mouth, and takes a breath.

‘If you start singing
Jake the peg
,’ Marshall interrupts, ‘I’m going to shoot you!’

‘But we’re in the right country!’ Charlie replies, smiling from ear to ear.

‘Look, this is serious bruv. We have the chance to take down a section of this company, and save some people too.’

‘We can’t both go. What about the girls here? Trust nobody, remember?’

‘Do you want to flip for it?’

‘Tell me what the objective is first!’

‘Ok then. It would appear that the Australian section of the company is built upon human trafficking for the purposes of prostitution. The objective would be to rescue the twenty girls and bring them here. And then tear down the building, the whole operation, and anyone involved.’

‘And,’ Charlie responds, ‘the other option is babysitting the girls here, right? In a nice secure military facility.’

‘That isn’t exactly how I would put it, but yes.’

‘What more do we know?’ Charlie asks.

Marshall hangs his head in shame.

‘When I walked past them earlier, there were only two…’

‘When you did what?’ Charlie interrupts.

‘I hadn’t pieced it all together then,’ Marshall explains. ‘But yes, I walked right past a van earlier that probably had the girls inside.’

‘Shit,’ Charlie states.

‘I know,’ Marshall continues. ‘Anyway, there were only two guys. My guess would be that the girls were sedated inside of the van.’

‘Okay,’ Charlie summarises. ‘Two guys to kill, one building to destroy, twenty girls to save.’

‘Roughly,’ Marshall agrees. ‘Can you handle it?’

‘It sounds like a walk in the park compared with everything else that has happened. I’ll go, you stay with the girls.’

‘Agreed.’

‘So how do I get there?’ Charlie asks.

‘Our friend here,’ Marshall says, pointing at the dead guy. ‘He and his colleagues parked an SUV outside for us, remember?’

Chapter Twenty-two

Once Charlie has left, Marshall requests that Sarah, Jane and Phoebe are moved to a single secure room, and that a guard is posted. Tyomi offers to guard the room himself until Marshall joins them. It’s an unusual offer for a captain to make, and Marshall is grateful. Once that is arranged, Marshall is on his way to join them when the police radio crackles into life once more.

Avens-335, this is Robertson-229. Copy?

‘Copy.’ Marshall responds.

We still have eyes on sight and there is some major activity, copy?

‘Explain?’ Marshall requests, in his best attempt at an Australian accent.

In the last twenty minutes, we have seen no less than thirty cars pull into the parking lot. Pretty nice motors too. Mercs mostly, but also a lot of private hires and a few limo’s. What the hell is this?

‘How many people?’ Marshall asks, ignoring the question.

Hard to say because of our line of sight. Somewhere north of fifty at a guess. Advise
?

‘Return to base,’ Marshall orders. ‘I will get an entry team organised. Thanks for the assist.’

Anytime 335
.
Out
.

Marshall suddenly remembers the old guy’s words from the barber shop.

Auction day. To auction the girls.

Thirty cars, fifty people.

That means that there will be a lot more people and a lot more weapons than Charlie will be expecting.

Not good.

Marshall looks along the corridor at Tyomi. He is standing stock still outside a reinforced door just thirty yards away. He hasn’t seen Marshall yet.

Ensure the safety of three lives, or take a risk on saving twenty lives
? He asks himself. The answer is clear though. Tyomi looks capable enough.

He nods once to himself, turns on his heels and walks along the corridor and back out of the building. Luckily, as he reaches the parking area, a taxi drops off a fare and turns on its light. Marshall gets in and gives the address.

‘Popular place today according to the radio chatter,’ the driver advises.

Marshall just nods.

As Charlie parks the SUV he realises it could not look more out of place. It stands out amongst the Mercedes and Limo’s like a goth at a beach party.

‘Two people, he said! Roughly two fucking people!’

People standing about at the entrance to the building are beginning to stare at him, so Charlie has no choice but to exit the SUV as casually as possible and head over to join them. He notes the expensive suits and watches, and comes to the same conclusion as Marshall: these are buyers. Looking for ladies. Charlie looks down at his own clothes and realises he is a dead man if he doesn’t think of something soon. Then as he reaches the door, he is met by a guy with a guest list and a gun.

‘Can I help you, sir?’ he asks Charlie suspiciously.

Charlie smiles his best winning smile, but can’t think of a single response that won’t end with a lot of gunfire. He opens his mouth to speak, but then is interrupted by the sound of a car alarm behind him.

‘Alright, who does that belong to?’ the doorman calls, so that everyone around can hear.

‘Ah, that would be mine.’ Charlie says, relieved.

The doorman gives the SUV a disgusted look, and raises the gun at Charlie.

‘I’ll, ah, I’ll just go and turn the alarm off shall I?’ Charlie says as politely as he can. ‘After all, we don’t want the cops showing up do we?’

Happy with the logic, the doorman lowers the gun and gives Charlie a brief nod. Charlie turns around quickly and heads back towards the SUV, where he finds Marshall sitting low in the passenger seat.

‘Good timing with the diversion, bruv,’ Charlie says with meaning. ‘I was running out of options.’

‘That’s why I’m here, Charlie.’

‘What about Sarah, Jane and Phoebe?’

‘They should be safe, I hope.’

‘Well, it isn’t just
two guys
,’ Charlie smirks.

‘Thanks, detective.’

‘What’s the plan then?’

‘Did you see the girls?’

‘I didn’t get through the door,’ Charlie admits. ‘I don’t think they appreciated my unique fashion sense.’

‘Okay, we need an interior layout, and we need some kit.’

‘How are we going to get all that?’

‘You do a walk around,’ Marshall states. ‘The windows are set high up, so you won’t be seen. I will drive back up the road to the hypermarket I saw on the way here and get us a few items.’

‘Such as?’

‘Chemicals. We aren’t leaving this building standing, remember. Also, tools. We’re going to need some tools.’

With a nod, Charlie slips out of the car and heads along the row of vehicles until he is out of sight. Once at the end of the row he glances back to see that Marshall has pulled out from the parking lot and is heading back along the road. Charlie presses himself against the wall of the building and edges along to the window. He pulls himself up and takes a two second look inside. Then he drops back to the ground, and allows his mind to recall what he just saw inside: the girls are positioned in a circle in the centre of the room, whilst the buyers line up around the edge. Charlie also noted that there were armed guys covering the front and back entrances.

Not great.

Charlie checks the clip in his gun. It is down two rounds, but even if it were full, he couldn’t take them all. He crouches down and waits for Marshall to return, hoping that the girls in the airport are still safe.

Two miles along the road, Marshall walks the isles of the hypermarket with a trolley. He has already collected several containers of industrial sized cleaning products, when he happens upon the tools and trades isle.

Then an idea strikes him.

He collects a nail gun, several sections of wood and three latches. He finishes up with some screws and an electric screwdriver. He pays by credit card and gets all of the way back to the SUV before realising he hasn’t bought an igniter.

‘Idiot,’ he curses himself. Now he will need to go back in and queue again. Valuable time that he doesn’t have.

He pops the boot to stow the items, and then freezes.

Could his luck be changing?

He smiles at the item secured in hard foam in front of him.

Yes, maybe it is changing.

Back at the airport, a stewardess approaches the desk sergeant for the military section. She reads the sergeant’s name plate before addressing her.

‘Sergeant Hanni, I am here to collect the special passengers.’

Hanni checks the clock to her left and places a hand loosely on her gun. She has been told in no uncertain terms to expect an attack.

‘You are early,’ Hanni replies, narrowing her eyes as she assesses the stewardess.

‘Not at all,’ the stewardess points out. ‘The flight has been brought forward. Apparently, there is a bad weather pattern emerging. The captain wishes to avoid it for the safety of the passengers.

Alarm bells begin to ring in Hanni’s head. She unclips her gun.

‘You have a direct link in your computer system to the customer information boards don’t you?’ the stewardess asks. ‘Please feel free to confirm.’

‘Take a seat.’ Hanni says.

‘I’m fine standing.’

‘I said sit down!’ Hanni orders.

The stewardess sits immediately, like an obedient dog.

Hanni opens the link to the commercial side of the airport and checks the departure times. It would appear that the girl is telling the truth, but Hanni also opens a weather radar to confirm her story about why the flight has to be brought forward. Again, the adverse weather pattern is established as being true.

‘What is your name?’ she asks the stewardess.

‘Mary. Mary Elliot.’

‘Where were you born?’

‘Ermelo, Holland.’

‘Mother and father’s full names, number of siblings and marital status?’ Hanni requests quickly.

‘What is this?’ Mary asks.

‘Answer the questions,’ Hanni orders.

Mary answers, and Hanni confirms her responses with the commercial employees register.

‘Wait here,’ she tells Mary.

Hanni walks the corridors to the secure room and salutes Tyomi.

‘Sir, there is a stewardess here to collect the passengers,’ she tells him.

Tyomi checks his watch with a frown.

‘Am I missing something, Sergeant?’

Hanni fills him in and explains that she has confirmed the details.

‘Then we have an issue,’ Tyomi advises. ‘Marshall and his brother aren’t here at the moment.’

‘Sir?’

‘Charlie left a while back, and Marshall slipped out not long after. I presume there is a good reason why he didn’t come and tell me first, but I saw him out of the corner of my eye though.’

‘What do we do, sir?’

‘If they miss this flight, when is the next?’

‘Tomorrow evening, sir.’

‘Get the women and the child boarded, Sergeant. I’m sure Marshall would agree. Besides, once they are off our hands, we can drop the alert and get back to normal.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Hanni agrees.

Marshall cruises back towards the warehouse and parks – slightly more inconspicuously than Charlie had earlier – on the far end of the row. Charlie joins him immediately and fills him in on the layout.

‘Not great,’ Marshall says.

‘So, what’s the plan little brother?’

‘Well first of all, we have to assume that the girls are drugged.’

‘They certainly looked that way,’ Charlie adds.

‘So they are collateral damage.’

‘Sheep,’ Charlie agrees.

Marshall glances around the carpark for inspiration, but finds none at all. He can’t even see the road because of how closely the cars are parked.

Then an idea begins to form.

‘Are you up for something bat-shit crazy, Charlie?’

Charlie brightens and turns to his brother with a broad grin.

‘It’s been at least forty minutes since the last time,’ he replies with a wink.

Inside the main room in the warehouse, Terry Prigg is about to begin the auction process. He drags a beautiful but exhausted looking girl in front of the assembled buyers. He pauses briefly for affect, before removing the towel that was covering her; like the prestige at a magic show.

‘Right, who’s going to start me at ten thousand Euros? That’s eleven thousand for you yanks, and thirteen thousand for you local boys.’

Then there is an explosion outside.

‘What the hell was that?’ Prigg shouts at one of the security team nearby. ‘Get out there and find out!’

But as the security guy opens the door, he jumps backwards instinctively as a chain reaction of car explosions builds momentum in the parking lot. One after another, the cars outside catch fire, and explode, helped by the accelerant that Marshall has added to the paint work.

By the time the last car has exploded, all of the men are outside.

‘What the hell is this?’ an Arabian sheik demands.

‘Who is responsible?’ adds an Australian pimp.

Prigg stands in the middle of the angry mob, speechless. Who the hell would be mad enough to dare to do this? Even the few local police that know about what is going on would never dare come here. What would anybody hope to achieve?

They will be hunted and killed
, Prigg vows.
Just as anyone else who has ever caused us any trouble has been before. What has this little stunt accomplished?

‘Gentlemen, I can only apologise for this inconvenience,’ he shouts above the confusion and alarm of his clients. ‘Obviously, the auction will continue.’

There is some grumbling from the crowd, but a few nods also.

‘Let’s all get back inside and…’

He stops.

Everyone is outside.

All that he had achieved is to empty the warehouse. That was his first mistake. Then he makes another.

‘Ramsey,’ Prigg shouts at the nearest security guy. ‘Get back in there and check on the girls!’

But he has put too much emphasis in his voice. Ramsey heads inside with urgency, whilst the group of buyers look to the door nervously.

‘They’ve gone!’ Ramsey shouts as he re-emerges from the door.

The panic is instant. The rest of the security personnel run towards the door as do the group of buyers. Prigg is knocked sideways, but follows them inside.

Ramsey was correct, the large auction room is now devoid of females. As the buyers shout and panic, Prigg follows a banging noise to the rear entrance.

‘Get over here!’ he shouts at Ramsey.

But the Arab sheik hears him also.