Resurrection Day (71 page)

Moses Lee, watching from the front window, the MP-5 cradled in his hands, saw the grey metro cab pull up. He got to his feet, cracked open the net curtain a fraction, saw the woman step out of the cab, search in her bag to pay the driver, then saw the driver shake his head. The cabby said something to her, and then the woman turned away from the car and came up the path to the house, while the driver remained in the cab and kept his engine running.

Some instinct made Lee glance out into the street. For the past couple of minutes, he'd noticed two black guys, maybe fifty yards away, over on the other side. They wore street clothes — baggy nylon jackets, loose jeans and woollen hats — and as they stood there talking they seemed to be absorbed in their conversation. But was it his imagination, or did he notice one of them take a sly look towards the house a couple of times? Something else bothered him about the two young men: they seemed a little older than most of the guys you saw hanging out in the street. Not by much — the two were in their mid to late twenties maybe — but even that tiny inconsistency made him suspicious.

Added to that, ten minutes ago he'd noticed a sedan car go by with another two black guys inside. Nothing strange about that, but he was convinced that the car's passenger had shot a glance at the house as he drove past, as if he were giving it the once-over. Lee hadn't seen the car since, and the two things, taken separately, wouldn't have caused him any great concern. But taken together, they made him wonder whether there might be trouble, and triggered an alarm inside his head.

Lee frowned, just as Abdullah came into the room behind him, drinking coffee, cradling the pump-action shotgun. 'Tell your friend the lady's arrived in a cab,' Lee told him urgently. 'And tell him I got a feeling there's something weird going down out on the street.'

Karla walked up the path to the house. Her legs felt weak, her heart was pounding in hammer blows. She saw the curtain flicker in the downstairs front window and her anxiety soared. She was being watched, had expected it, but it heightened her fear.

She knew what she was supposed to do, had understood everything she had been told. She knew that she couldn't go back, but could she go through with it? Could she really betray Nikolai? Or had she done that already? She wanted this nightmare to be over, wanted desperately for it to end right here and now, and in her heart she knew there was no other way. All she could hope for was that she could somehow save him. She fought back tears as she went up the steps, conscious of the transmitter taped to her stomach and rubbing against her skin, the miniature microphone clipped under her blouse.

She rang the bell. Her hand was trembling as she took it away. 'Whatever you do, don't let them see you're anxious or afraid. Tell them your excuse, that you need change to pay the driver. When you've got the change, return to the cab, pay the fare, then go back into the house, leaving the latch off and the door ajar.'

'Can't I tell Nikolai?'

'Absolutely not! It's too risky. We don't know how he'll react. You'll have to do this alone.'

That was how she felt right now. Alone. And frightened, more frightened than she had ever been in her life. Suddenly the front door opened, but only by about six inches. Karla caught a brief glimpse of Moses Lee, standing just inside the hall, but he made no attempt to open the door fully and let her in. 'It's me,' Karla said, trying desperately to stop her voice from shaking.

'What's with the cab?'

'The motorcycle broke down.'

Silence. The door still didn't open. 'Why ... why don't you let me in?'

No response. Karla thought: There's something wrong, something terribly wrong. She could sense it, her heart pounding faster. Then whispered voices came from inside the hall, and her spirits sank even farther. They know. They know I've betrayed them. And then the door suddenly opened and Lee's powerful black hand came out and pulled her inside.

'The fuck's going on?' Morgan said aloud.

'Why, what's happening?' Collins was still crouched in the back, on the opposite side, unable to see.

'Someone just dragged her inside the house. Don't move, Jack, whatever you do, don't fucking move.' Morgan flicked on the radio. 'Tom? They just pulled her inside the fucking house!'

'What?'

'Someone opened the door, pulled her into the hall, and the door closed. It's not right, Tom. The bastards must be on to us. You want us to go in?'

There was a pause, a long and desperate pause — Murphy had heard the exchange at the door through his earpiece but couldn't see what had happened — and then he said, 'No! I've got her on the wire. Don't do a fucking thing for now! Stay right were you are and don't do a fucking thing until I tell you!'

'What's going on?' Rashid faced Karla in the front room. He had the Skorpion in one hand, gripped her arm with the other. 'I asked you a question.'

'The motorcycle broke down. I had to take a taxi.'

'Broke down where?'

'A couple of miles from here. The engine cut out and I had to abandon it. That's what kept me.' Despite her fear, Karla tried to look defensive. 'Why all these questions? I've told you what happened.'

Rashid searched her eyes, animal caution written all over his face. Gorev, standing behind him, stepped forward, pulled his arm away. 'Let her go, Rashid. Karla's done nothing wrong.'

'Maybe not. But I don't like coincidences. Moses saw two men loitering across the street. Another two went by in a car a little while ago. He thinks they may have been watching the house.'

'Are you sure of that?' Gorev shot a look at Moses.

'It looked that way to me.'

'The two men on the street, where are they now?'

'Moved on. Haven't seen them since.'

'But they could have been harmless?'

'Sure. But me, I wouldn't like to take no chances.'

'Did you notice anyone follow you from Chesapeake?' Gorev asked Karla.

'No ... I didn't see anyone. I was careful.'

Rashid was still suspicious. Sweat beaded his face as he looked over at Abdullah, who stood at the window, watching the taxi. 'What's happening?'

'Nothing. The cab-driver is still waiting.'

Rashid turned back to Karla. 'Why's he waiting?'

'I only had a hundred-dollar bill. He hadn't change. I need ten dollars to pay him.'

'Where did he pick you up — in the street or from a rank?'

'In the street.'

Rashid considered. 'And you're certain no one followed you?'

'I told you already. What are you getting at, Rashid?'

Rashid didn't reply, crossed to the window, looked out at the waiting cab and the black driver, then scanned the empty street. Gorev followed him and did the same. 'I think you're overreacting, Rashid. It's understandable. We're all on edge here. Let Karla pay the driver and be done with it. If he's made to wait any longer he'll only get suspicious. And then we could be in trouble.'

Rashid wiped sweat from his face. He seemed to consider for a moment, uncertain, and then nodded to Moses. 'Give her the money.'

Moses took out a wallet, handed over a ten-dollar bill. Karla took it, started to turn towards the hall, but suddenly Rashid gripped her arm again. 'Wait!'

'But ... I need to pay the driver.'

'No, let Moses do it.'

In the Dodge van, Murphy heard it all. The voices, speaking in English, told him he was in deep shit.

'Moses saw two men loitering across the street. Another two went by in a car a little while ago. He thinks they may have been watching the house.''

And then, a little later: 'But ... I need to pay the driver.''

'No, let Moses do it.'

Panic gripped him. He knew that as soon as the guy called Moses walked down the path and peered into the cab he'd see Collins and realise what was going on. Worse, Murphy had no doubt from the tone of one of the voices — probably Rashid's that the others inside the house would be watching, and that they were already highly suspicious. Three minutes ago he'd moved his undercover teams farther down the street, but he was still in the Dodge, and less than eighty yards from the house. What if Moses noticed the van? Would he suspect something? It was all going haywire, and Murphy knew he had only seconds to decide what to do. Had he really any choice? Frantically, he put the radio to his mouth. 'Lou, it's gone wrong. It's not the woman who's coming out, it's one of the others ... the black guy, Moses!'

'Shit! What do you want us to do?'

'Take him down as soon he nears the cab. Then we're going in!'

In the front room, Karla was beginning to panic. She thought: It's all going horribly wrong. She watched as Moses checked his automatic pistol, slipped it into his trouser pocket and tossed his MP-5 and two spare magazines to Abdullah. 'Take these.' As Abdullah took the weapon and magazines, Rashid said to him, 'Go cover the back entrance, and don't leave your position unless I tell you.'

Abdullah left the room, brandishing the MP-5, and Rashid went over to the window with the Skorpion, again studied the waiting cab through a crack in the curtains, and nodded to Moses. 'If you see anything suspicious, get back inside at once.'

'Sure, no sweat. Just you brothers make sure you watch my ass.' Moses went out into the hall, and Rashid said to Gorev, 'I'll cover him from the window. You take the garage. Make sure the doors are secure and stay there until I order you to do otherwise.' He tossed Gorev the keys to the Nissan van. 'Be ready to move the van if we have to.'

'You're sure you're not overreacting, Rashid?'

'We're not going to take chances. Do as I say, Gorev!'

Gorev cocked his Beretta. A look passed between him and Rashid, and then he turned and followed Moses out into the hall. As Karla moved to go after him, Rashid grabbed her arm. 'Where do you think you're going?'

'With ... with Nikolai.'

'You stay here with me.' Rashid's eyes narrowed with suspicion. 'I don't know what it is, but there's something about this I don't like.'

Karla was near breaking point, desperately trying to hide her anxiety, feeling that any second now she was going to collapse. She thought: I've lost my one chance to warn Nikolai. At that moment she feared the worst; every last hope she had nurtured was dashed. Looking out the window, she saw Moses step out the door, start to walk down the path.

Rashid went to cover him, and cocked the Skorpion.

Moses Lee stepped out of the front door. He kept his eyes on the cab and the black driver, then started to walk slowly down the path. His instinct for danger was well honed, and halfway along the path something clicked inside his head. The driver was watching him approach — not just casually, but intently. Too fucking intently. Moses met his stare, and the man tried to avoid looking directly at him.

Another click.

Moses glanced quickly up and down the street. To his left, a dark green Dodge van was parked by the kerb, eighty yards away ...

Another click.

Farther along, fifty yards away from the van on the other side of the street, were two more cars, the dark shapes of figures inside. He was damned sure one of the cars was the same sedan he'd seen from the window, ten minutes earlier ...

Another click. At that precise moment, he knew with certainty there was trouble.

Fuck ...

He dipped his hand into his pocket for the pistol, his gaze returning to the cab and the driver. The man was still watching him. At the same time his arm was moving across the seat, as if he was reaching for something, and then ...

Moses saw another movement, but in the back of the cab this time. He noticed that the rear window was already rolled down, a white guy appearing, a gun in his hand ...

Moses wrenched out his pistol, got off two quick shots at the figure in the back, and a split second later all hell broke loose ...

In the cab, Morgan saw the front door open, and whispered to Collins, 'He's coming out, Jack! Wait until I give you the word!' Morgan saw the big black man named Moses step out of the house and start to walk slowly down the path. He was well muscled, looked the kind who could handle himself, and Morgan sweated as he watched him approach the cab, taking his time, moving as if he was in no great hurry. As he walked, the man stared at him. Morgan turned his head away slightly, but kept trying to watch the guy as he came closer. He saw him look left, then right, and Morgan's heart was in his mouth as he saw the guy reach into his pocket ...

'Jack, he's on to us!' Morgan screamed. 'Take him down!' Collins came up from behind the seat, the Glock in his hand, just as Moses fired and two shots rang out, shattering the cab window ...

Collins heard the crack of two gunshots and a double zing.

Two rounds whistled inches from his head — one through the open window, another punching a hole through the roof — and he frantically climbed out the far side of the cab, hit the ground, crawled towards the rear end of the car. At that same moment, the downstairs front window in the house shattered, and a burst of machinegun fire blazed, stitching the cab, punching holes in the metalwork, sending glass flying.

Morgan was trying to fire his pistol as he clambered out the driver's side when a round caught him in his right leg, and then another. He yelled, clapped a hand on his leg, dragged himself behind the cab as another burst of machinegun fire raked the chassis. Blood pumped between Morgan's fingers, but as Collins crawled towards him he yelled, 'I'm OK, Jack! Just get the bastards!'

'For Christ's sake don't move!' Collins crawled farther to the right, out of sight of the front window of the house, poked his head out from behind the cab and saw the black guy, Moses, reach the front door, spin round and fire again at the car. Collins aimed, fired twice, the bullets ripping into Moses' heart, punching him back against the doorway.

Another barrage of gunfire erupted from the front window, slamming into the cab, gouging chunks of concrete from the ground to Collins' left. But he was beyond reason now, in the grip of fury, filled with a fierce energy, and it spurred him on as he came out from behind the cab, ignoring the gunfire as he sprinted towards the house, emptying the Glock at the front window as he ran.

Suddenly the street came alive with FBI vehicles screeching to a halt, dozens of men piling out, and then the firing started, a steady stream directed through the downstairs front window of the house, shattering glass, sending brick chips flying. The flashes of gunfire from inside the house died, and when Collins reached the front door he stepped past the black man's body and flattened himself against the side wall. Even in his panicked state he was aware of the seconds ticking away, of the urgency, knew he had to get inside the house fast, and find Rashid.