Limit of Exploitation (15 page)

“YOU!”

Ritchie’s face is set hard as he stares down at Belic, his SIG held rock solid. “Yeah, me.”

He takes a step forward and places the barrel of the SIG on top of Belic’s head. In a rage Belic tries to move, but the single 9mm ends any more struggle. The big Serb slumps sideways on the road, blood quickly pooling around his head.

Ritchie can hear a voice. In amongst the glass and debris on the tarmac is Belic’s mobile, his call still in progress. As Ritchie picks up the mobile John comes trotting round the front of the Merc, M4 held ready. He tosses the phone to John.

“Its for you.”

John listens as Miroslav yells down the line. “BELIC! BELIC! WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING OUT THERE? BELIC!”

John looks at Belic’s body as he calmly speaks into the mobile. “Can you hear me, you fucking immigrant? Well your mate Belic can’t, he wont be hearing anything, ever again.”

John hangs up and tosses Belic’s mobile onto his dead body and makes his way back to the crumpled Range Rover. Ritchie notices the hovering Police helicopter high overhead. He points skyward.

“We don’t have long.”

At his mansion Miroslav is stood in shirt-sleeves and suit trousers under the spacious portico. He stares hard at his Blackberry like it’s just grown a head; the rage in him starts to swell. He storms into the house pulling at a Motorola Radio clipped to his belt. On the way in he brushes past a bewildered Marko.

“What the hell is going on?”

Miroslav makes for the wide staircase. “Come with me, we’ll take care of that fucking girl, they can have her back in pieces!”

Marko trots behind him. “Where’s Senka? She hasn’t been around.”

“She’s been taken care of, now COME ON!” Miroslav shouts into the Motorola. “They are going to hit the gates, watch the woods as well; we are being watched from the woods.”

Marko is stunned at the news of Senka; he pauses at the foot of the stairs. “She’s been taken care of?”

In the Range Rover John stares through the shattered windscreen at the crumpled bonnet. He thumbs his PTT. “Billy, John…Check over.”

Billy is in his ear. “Strength five over.”

“Charlie one and two are down, we are inbound to you. Send sit rep mate.”

Hidden in the wood line Billy sends a situation report of what is happening at the house. He keeps his eye glued to the ACOG sight’s rubber eyepiece as he quietly speaks into his mic.

“I have X-ray’s on plot at the H.A. They are carrying and they are aware. What’s your TOT?”

Billy informs them that there are multiple Zemun at Miroslav’s Mansion, they are armed and on their guard. He also asks John how long it will be till he arrives.

John comes back through his earpiece. “Acknowledge your X-ray’s. Time on target figures six.” Six minutes till the shit really hits the fan.

Billy pans the area with the ACOG once more. “Roger, figures six. I have, three X-rays static, outer perimeter main entrance.”

Click clunk, click clunk.

“I have, two X-rays static at entry point one.”

Click clunk, click clunk.

“I have one charlie static on plot, two up at entry point one. The target house will be the Limit of Exploitation.”

Click clunk, click clunk.

Behind him, Billy suddenly hears a subtle crunch of leaves. He freezes; both his eyes now wide open, every sense at maximum. In a split second he rolls to his left pulling his SIG at the same time. Dirt and leaves explode into the air as bullets thud into the ground where he was just laid. A few metres away two crew cuts are bearing down on him, fast. Billy has less than a second to react.

The first crew cut is young and armed with a browning type pistol, directly behind him the second crew cut looks older and has both hands on the AK47 he’s carrying. The AK must go first.

Laid on his back Billy fires four rapid cracks from the SIG, the AK crew cut drops. The first Serb sprints towards him, firing wildly with his pistol. A bullet strikes Billy’s torso; it feels like a hammer blow winding him. He keeps firing and hits the sprinting Serbs shoulder, but the Serb keeps coming and launches himself on top of Billy, grabbing at his throat, face, anything to try and pin him down. Both men fight like wild cats, kicking and punching, trying to gain the advantage, their weapons fly from their hands.

The Serb shouts and screams in Serbo-Croat and pushes his hand against Billy’s face, forcing his head back and managing to sit on top of him. In his upside down field of vision Billy see’s more Zemun on the lawns running towards him. He needs to sort this out rapid or he’s fucked.

He gouges the screaming Serbs eyes with his thumbs. Billy needs an advantage; he catches a glimpse of blood running out the Serbs sleeve. With anxious fingers he fumbles around in the leaves. A branch, he grabs it and smashes it again and again into the crew cuts gunshot wound. The Serb screams through gritted teeth and shouts even louder. The Zemun on the lawn are getting closer, they pull pistols from inside their jackets.

Back in the Mansion Miroslav and Marko make for Emma’s room. Miroslav is still gobbing off into the Motorola; Marko’s face registers concern and confusion. He pulls at his boss’s shoulder.

“What do you mean she was taken care of? She’s dead?”

Miroslav rounds on him. “Of course she’s dead! She was a fucking traitor, a spy. No matter though Marko, we had an ace up our sleeves all along, our own little spy.”

In the wood Billy batters and stabs with the lump of branch and at last the Serb grabs his bloodied shoulder while trying to hold on with one hand. In the distance a Range Rover can be heard roaring its way down the private road.

Both men roll onto their sides and see Billy’s SIG lying in the leaves, they both grab at it. The crew cut wins but can only use his one arm. Billy grabs the pistol with both hands trying to force it up under the Serbs chin. The Serb is so close Billy can smell his cigarette breath. Their bloody hands slip and slid as they fight.

The crew cuts eyes widen, he knows he’s going to lose this. He screams and shouts to his mates. He’s strong but he can’t stop Billy’s upward motion with just one arm. The SIG’s barrel comes up to his neck. Billy pulls down hard on the Serbs fingers. His head kicks back violently as 9mm bullets explode through it.

No time to fuck about. Grunting and panting Billy scrambles on his hands and knees back to the Minimi. The approaching Zemun are just metres away. He grabs at the weapon; leaves and mud stick to the ammunition box as he drags it up into his shoulder and from a kneeling position points the barrel in the general direction of the threat, he’s too fucked to aim properly. With both eyes open he fires a long burst, the group of Serbs are cut down in a hail of spitting bullets.

Gulping air he clutches at his torso. Body armour saved him from the crew cuts bullet but the blunt trauma from the impact has broken ribs, he hits his PTT

“CONTACT! CONTACT! CONTACT!”

At Emma’s door Miroslav hears the contact kick off. He jerks his head around as Billy’s automatic fire rips apart a sunny day in Surrey. Crossing the hallway to one of the large rectangular windows he looks up towards the wood line and pulls his Motorola out. Down the back of his waistband Marko see’s his nickel-plated 9mm.

As Miroslav presses to send, Marko quickly pulls out the 9mm and smashes the pistol grip across his boss’s temple. Miroslav is sent crashing sideways into a sideboard and vase. He hits the carpet in a heap amongst broken glass and plastic flowers. He’s down but not quite out.

Marko fishes in his pocket and grabs the key to Emma’s room. She is laid on her bed in T-shirt and jeans, still half dazed from the tranquilisers that have been put in her food. Marko rushes in and drags her off the bed, almost throwing her from the room.

“GO, GO…RUN, NOW!”

Half asleep and disorientated Emma wobbles bare foot to the door. She blinks and squints in the daylight streaming through the windows in the hallway. Her brain tries to compute the violence, noise and bodies around her. Hopping over a groaning Miroslav she takes off down the hallway, running blindly, running anywhere. Marko follows her out, the 9mm still in his hand.

“RUN CHILD RUN!”

Behind him, Miroslav is already on his feet and more than a little pissed off. He smashes the Motorola hard into Marko’s head, dropping him to his knees; the 9mm hits the floor. Miroslav brings the radio down a second time; the back smashes off as Marko hits the carpet and doesn’t move. Blood is already flowing through his slicked backed hair.

In the speeding Range Rover Ritchie slams his foot down on the accelerator and the big V8 engine drops a gear, its revs going ballistic.

The private road is quickly coming to an end and the estates wrought iron gates are rapidly growing larger in what’s left of the windscreen. Through the gates John and Ritchie can see a group of Zemun starting to spread out and scatter, 9mm’s and AK’s start to appear from under their coats.

Out of nowhere automatic fire suddenly batters into the group of Serbs and they start dropping. Gravel, brick dust and tarmac is kicked up in chunks as Billy’s high velocity tracer rounds whip crack and snap around them.

The Rangeys revs are screaming in the red as it explodes through the gates ripping them from their posts. Ritchie keeps the Range Rover moving and grinds over metal, gravel and dead crew cuts. Overhead, the police helicopter is getting a grandstand view.

From his position in the wood line Billy watches through the ACOG as John and Ritchie cannon ball into view. He pours more long bursts of fire into the security post, which disintegrates in clouds of flying, splintering wood. He’s unaware of Serb bullets cracking back over his head into the trees and branches as the prowling Zemun try and suppress his fire.

The Range Rovers front end is utterly destroyed; it drags along one of the gates that is stuck in its mangled bull bars as it grinds up the gravel driveway screeching metal on metal.

Billy wriggles around behind the Minimi to switch his fire, his body is covered in leaves and twigs shot from the trees above. He fires short controlled bursts into a parked Audi under the portico. The withering fire disintegrates the windscreen and blows its tyres. The driver’s door pops opens and the Serb inside tries to makes a break for it, but Billy cuts him down in hail of bullets and flying gravel. The Zemun taking cover in the portico drop like broken puppets as the ACOG’s crosshairs play over them.

The Range Rover comes to a grinding halt just short of the now bullet pocked portico. John and Ritchie are already out, sprinting hard for the double doors with M4’s held ready. As they enter the Ducati roars in through the wrecked gates and comes to a sliding halt on the gravel next to the Rangey. Phil drops the bike as he and Sam sprint for the entrance.

John and Ritchie find themselves in a large reception area. The flooring is made of gleaming white tiles; a wide sweeping staircase stands directly to their front. To their left and right are large wooden panelled doors with a hallway continuing past to the right of the stairs. The place stinks of money. Ritchie’s eyes dart to the stairs.

“Senka, she said a bedroom right?”

A child’s muffled screams answer his question. It’s coming from upstairs. John thumbs off his safety catch.

“Let’s go.”

They hit the staircase, bounding up two at time. As they disappear up, a Serb, all leather jacket and two days growth appears in the right hand doorway. Pistol in hand, he takes aim at the staircase and the two men’s backs. Phil bursts in through the main doors SIG in hand and spots the Serb. He quickly cracks off two rounds in his general direction. The Serb staggers back through the doorway dropping his pistol as he takes one in the chest. Phil follows and pumps more 9mm into him.

Sam enters just as Phil turns for the stairs, his weapon down by his side. He sees Sam aiming her SIG directly at him, their eyes lock. A second later she fires twice. Two hammer blows strike Phil square in the chest and shoulder. His body makes a sickening slap as it hits the tiles.

Upstairs John and Ritchie follow the sound of screaming; they cover each other down the hallway and can see it changing direction to the right just ahead of them.

Around the corner Marko staggers drunkenly to his feet, a hand pressed to his bleeding head.

“MIROSLAV! MIROSLAV!” He pulls his own 9mm pistol, still trying to stem the blood running down the side of his face. He tries to walk using the wall as support and comes to one of the large hallway windows.

Billy follows John and Ritchie’s progress along the hallway through the ACOG. The two men disappear and reappear in the large rectangular windows. Then, further along hallway, there’s movement. Through one of the windows Billy briefly see’s a Serb, he’s bleeding from the head but still armed and heading towards his mates. As he disappears from view, Billy hits send.

“GO FIRM! Prowler in the hallway.” John and Ritchie instinctively drop flat, there’s no other cover. Billy adjusts his position slightly behind the Minimi and brings his cross hairs onto the next window frame. He waits for the Serb to reappear.

From their position in the hallway John and Ritchie watch as Marko lumbers into view, pistol in hand. He draws level with the next window; his eyes are wide and questioning. He opens his mouth to speak but doesn’t get it out. A hail of automatic fire shatters the window, and the hallway explodes in a frenzy of wood and plaster splinters. Marko’s dead before he hits the shag pile.

Billy is their earpieces. “Clear.”

Back downstairs Sam kicks at Phil’s body as blood pools around his shoulder and head, he doesn’t move. She turns and paces across to the stairs. Casually, one step at a time she makes her way up. Her face is calm, weapon down by her side, finger running along the trigger guard. A Stepford wife on a mission.

Billy spots activity at the gates. Armed Police are deploying in numbers. Above him, the police helicopter circles. He hits his PTT.

“We have blue lights on plot, danger close.”

John and Ritchie arrive at a set of heavy wooden panelled doors. Behind the doors they can hear a child’s screams, and an adult shouting in a foreign language. Ritchie covers as John tries the door handles, locked. The heavy lock has an inbuilt hotel type card reader.