The International Assassin A Sexy Times Crime Thriller (18 page)

“Grenades?” I asked.

“Nope.”

“Bloody hell Nick,” I told him “If I’d known we were going to get in this much trouble I would have left my shoes behind!”

“It’s a bit late to worry about that now.”

“How far is it to the motorway?”

“Maybe another five kilometres. I don’t think we are going to make it that far.”

Nick and I looked at each other. We had no way of knowing how much ammunition the Russians had to expend on us and we were down to our pistol magazines with three of them still in the fight. 

“It’s down to you now,” he told me. 

I spotted my opportunity as I saw a large articulated truck approaching. I swung onto the opposite side of the road to drive at the truck straight on. The truck started flashing its horn and lights at us before its tyres erupted in smoke as the driver tried to slow down. With all wheels locked the weight of the trailer began to fishtail widely blocking the entire carriageway as the truck jack-knifed. I floored the throttle and aimed for the diminishing gap between the end of the truck and the steep embankment - we both braced for the impact. The Aston managed to squeeze through the narrow remaining gap but the fishtailing back end of the truck caught the rear three quarter panel on the passenger side and smashed into it with a sickening thump knocking us sideways into an uncontrolled spin. I tried to correct the slide but at more than ninety miles per hour the kinetic energy of the impact overcame any grip the Pirelli tyres hoped to offer and the Aston slid sideways before the inevitable physics took over and flipped us into the air. 

The airbags exploding in unison as we collided with the crash-barrier. The kerb sent the car into a violent set of barrel rolls before we finally came to a rest more than two-hundred metres down the road in a mess of broken, twisted carbon fibre and aluminium. The Aston was smashed beyond recognition with a trail of expensive broken parts littered in our wake. 

The impact with our Aston had done little to stop the sheer tonnage of the trailer continuing on its path. The Russians foolishly had decided to follow our course and with no gap left their much heavier Mercedes was completely unable to slow enough to prevent its inevitable head-on impact with the trailer. The bonnet nosedived under the back before the windscreen smashed fully into the metalwork of the trailer bed bringing it to a complete halt with most of the car roofline crushed under the truck. The rear passenger unable to react to the impending doom didn’t have time to retreat to the relative protection of the cabin and was decapitated from the waist up as he was caught between the crushing sunroof aperture and the truck above him.

Nick was out cold having hit his head on the side of the car and we were both badly cut and bleeding from the showers of broken glass and debris. Having had the steering wheel to brace on I had been lucky to avoid any serious injury. Aware that potential danger still lurked from the nearby Russians my body summoned up whatever energy it could find in a rush of adrenaline to take flight from the scene of the crash. 

I pulled my seatbelt off and tried to open the door, which was broken beyond recognition. I gave it a hefty shove and it fell off its remaining hinges to the floor below. I looked across to Nick.

“Nick!” I croaked, my ribs aching from the seatbelt making it hard to breath and speak. I gave him a shake to try and rouse him before checking the pulse on his neck to make sure he was still alive which thankfully he was. I dragged myself out of the tangled wreckage and surveyed the scene.

Taking out my pistol I hobbled back towards the Russians car. A trail of blood led from the back of it to what remained of the rear seat passenger who had been decapitated. The driver was clearly dead having been impaled on a steel guard-rail from the bottom of the truck that had struck through the windscreen. The front seat passenger who had survived the impact was trying to get out of the twisted remains. I walked over and calmly shot him twice in the head. The truck driver and onlookers who had gathered at the scene went running at this sudden burst of violence. Satisfied the pursuers had finally been eliminated I turned my attention back to Nick and thoughts of an escape plan.

I hobbled back to the crash scene and dragged open the passenger door and tried to release Nick from the wreckage.

“Nick. Come on. Wake up baby. We have to go. We really have to go.”

I gave him a good shove and he finally came round dazed and confused. He put an arm around me for support as I dragged him from the car, propped him up next to it then went round to the back of the car and kicked open what was left of the boot-lid, extracted our bags and dropped them next to Nick. 

We needed a quick getaway. Passing on the line of mundane euro-box hatchbacks I decided a Swiss Banker in a Porsche 997 Turbo would make an ideal car-jacking victim and walked over and tapped on his window with the Beretta.

“Out the car mister!” I told him.

Seeing the pistol pointed at him he put his hands up and opened the door.

“Please! I have a wife. Children. I have a dog!” he whimpered.

“I had a dog. Some fucker stole him. And look where that’s got us. So jog on. bugger off. Shoo!” I gestured at him with the pistol to take a walk, which he did so running in terror.

I got in the Porsche and drove it up next to the remnants of the Aston careful not to cross the shattered lines of glass. Leaving the engine running I got out and retrieved our luggage, threw the bags in the back seat then went back for Nick

“Can you walk?” I asked him.

“I think so.’ he replied as I put an arm around him and helped him over to the car

“The Russians?” he asked.

“They didn’t do so well.”

I deposited Nick in the passenger seat and put his seatbelt on. The police sirens could be heard approaching from the other side of the truck so I hobbled round to the drivers side, got in the Porsche and reversed out. As Nick passed out in the passenger seat we made good our escape south to Monaco.

Chapter 15

WE HEADED
south then east crossing the border into Italy. Once we were safely over the border we stopped at a small roadside motel and booked a room. It seemed prudent to take care of the injuries we had sustained in the accident prior to our arrival to Monte Carlo. Turning up at the Casino looking like extras Saving
Private Ryan
wouldn’t have been an especially dignified way to arrive in Casino Square.

Nick had come off worse in the accident and he was clearly in some discomfort. After we checked into the room I grabbed the first-aid kit from the stolen Porsche and did my best to patch up Nick’s injuries.

“Sorry. I guess you were right about my driving,” I said apologetically.

“Hey. We got away didn’t we? Shame the Aston didn’t but…shit happens.”

Nick grimaced as I applied the antiseptic to a large cut on his head. 

“At least you car-jacked us a very nice replacement,” he said. I smiled. Nick lay down on the bed and shifted uncomfortably. “I think I broke a rib or something.”

“My poor baby,” I cooed as I massaged his chest gently and kissed him better then pulled a blanket over us to keep Nick warm.

“We’re running out of time. The Russians are going to put pressure on Roy now. They will presume we are something to do with him.”

“We need to get to Monte Carlo.”

“We are going to need more than this,” Nick said as he picked up the pistol and dropped the magazine out. 

We had less than ten bullets left.

“Is there someone you can call?’ I asked him.

He shook his head.

“We passed that point at the hotel.”

“How do you mean?”

“I’m in the intelligence business not assassination. There will be consequences for what I did.”

“We can’t go back can we? To London,” I asked. Nick shook his head. I nodded and rested my head on the pillow next to him. “If you can’t find a way out then find a way further in.”

“We have to get to Roy before he makes that deal with the Russians. Once the deal’s done he’ll go to ground. We’re on our own now.”

“Disavowed…” I said mournfully. Nick nodded. “I’m sorry.”

Nick ran his hand through my hair and kissed my forehead.

“Don’t be. Some things are worth more than loyalty to Queen and Country.”

I smiled at Nick.

“We’ll be okay. We’ll get my money back, find a nice quiet island somewhere in a corner of the world where nobody knows us and buy a nice beach house. Two point two children and a dog.”

 “I like the sound of that,” Nick smiled.

We slept late into the morning, much later than we had expected but I didn’t want to wake Nick up given the pain he was in. We showered and headed over to the autoroute services, bought breakfast and found a table in a quiet corner overlooking the car park.

“Are you sure you are okay? Maybe we should find you a doctor?” I asked Nick. He shook his head.

“I’ll live.” 

I buttered Nick’s croissant and cut it in half for him.

“Why is Roy buying guns Nick? More to the point who is he buying them for?”

“Somalians,” Nick told me somewhat reluctantly. “There is supposedly a cargo ship leaving Dubai in two weeks. Charlotte’s dad and his cohorts are working both ends of the deal. They’ve insured the cargo which is basically worthless scrap metal and the ship. They are paying off the pirates to hijack it.”

“All this, for an insurance fraud?”

“It’s a bit more elaborate than that.It’s a diversion. While the naval patrols are chasing the cargo ship they are planning to hit an oil tanker. They are going to sail it bang into the middle of a UNESCO protected wildlife reef and scuttle it. The cost of the cleanup would run into hundreds of millions. They are shorting the marine insurance companies stock. They’ll make a killing when the market cap drops to the floor.”

“So how did you figure into this?”

“Vladimir was brokering the deal. We were following him when you killed him.”

“Sorry about that.”

“What troubles us, rather what troubles me is why you killed him.”

“Because Roy told me to.”

“That’s what I still don’t understand. Roy had no reason to kill him.”

I shrugged my shoulders.

“He’s an electrician from Luton. Who knows what goes on in that guys head.”

Nick stared at me with suspicion.

“I don’t buy your story at all. You’d have to be pretty dumb to fall for Roy’s bullshit and do the things you did. Unless you had a reason to.”

I drank my coffee innocently.

“Maybe I was in love. People are blinded to all manner of faults and realities when they are love. It’s a form of madness.”

“You are smarter than that.”

“I fell for you…”

“Did you?”

I put my coffee down in annoyance. 

“Look Nick. Let’s just skip through all the soft interrogation bullshit. Why don’t you cut to the chase and ask me what you really want to ask me?”

“I don’t want to ask you. I’d rather you just told me.”

We stared at each other for several seconds. I took his hand in mine and squeezed it.

“I love you. What else matters?”

“But who are you? Really?”

“What difference does it make? I accepted you for who you are.” I said. Nick nodded reluctantly. “I’m going to put this down to the fact you broke your ribs and are in a lot of pain right now. We have enough problems to deal with Nick. We don’t need to start beating each other up as well.”

I leant over and kissed him with a long slow tender kiss.

“I love you. That’s all you have to worry about. I just want us to get my money back so we can go and live a life somewhere. It’s you’re spy paranoia that makes you think this is something more than it is. The truth just isn’t that complicated.”

Nick turned to look out the window. I turned to see what had caught his attention. Two Italian police cars were parked next to the Porsche. A police officer was stood taking details of the car while two more police officers spoke to the hotel manager who was pointing in the direction of the café we were sat in. They started walking over.

“We’re blown,” Nick told me and looked around for the exit.

“Shit,” I replied. 

The motel we were at was in the middle of the countryside.

“We need to get out of here.”

“How?” I asked.

“I’ll distract them. Go to the hotel and get our bags then get the car. Pick me up on the slip road.”

“And if you don’t make it?”

“Then keep driving.”

“I’m not leaving without you Nick.”

“There’s no point in us both getting caught.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea. We should just make a run for it out the back and find another car.”

“We don’t have time for that. It’ll be okay.” Nick checked his pistol under the table and got up. “Wait here. As soon as it’s clear then go.”

“Be careful.” 

I got up and hugged Nick tightly. He gazed in my eyes.

“I’m sorry about what I said. You’re right. It’s the job. Old habits die hard.”

I smiled at him.

“It’s okay. You are right, it doesn’t make any sense but what in life does?”

We kissed. Nick headed for the exit.

I watched nervously as Nick headed across the car park keeping his head down. He walked straight in the direction of the Porsche, the two police officers walked straight past at him looked but kept going. As he past them the hotel manager pointed at him. The other police officer shouted at his colleagues who stopped on their heels and turned around. They called after Nick who stopped but didn’t turn around. As they approached him and put a hand on his shoulder Nick grabbed it and pistol-whipped the first policeman before knocking him to the ground then he quickly grabbed the second police officer and used him as a shield against the police officer with the hotel manager who now had a pistol drawn. Nick disarmed the police officer he had hostage and put his gun to his head. Reluctantly the other police officer put down his gun and kicked it away. Nick let the police officer go and grabbed the pistol from the officer on the ground. He then shot the second police officer in the leg before sprinting across the car park into the cover of several trucks. The police officer with the hotel manager ran across and picked his gun up and ran over to his stricken colleagues radioing for help.