This Machine Kills (25 page)

  When he reached the balcony, Taylor cautiously peered over to survey the area below. At the same time he realised the place was now empty, he heard the faint buzz of the elevator kicking into action.

  “Shit,” he cursed under his breath, realising he had probably just lost his only chance of finding Charlotte’s killer. The stealth mode he had adopted was abandoned as he stepped heavily down the stairs.

Halfway down, he froze to the spot when it hit him that the noise coming from the elevator motor was growing louder. He had been wrong, it wasn’t the killer leaving that he could hear; someone else was coming up. He quickly backed up the stairs as the whirring sound ceased, stepping back onto the balcony where he would be invisible to the new arrival.

   For a few brief moments, muffled noises could be heard coming from the elevator lobby room where the guards stood. Seconds later, Taylor heard the main doors to the apartment fling open, and judging from the familiar sounds of trooper’s voices and the heavy footsteps of military boots, he knew they were there for him; someone had set him up.

   A man’s voice echoed around the room and Taylor’s heart sunk as he recognised it. They had sent his own team to capture him and Rudy was taking great pleasure in it.

  “Where are you Sarge?” he yelled, “I’m going to carve you up, you little bitch.”

   A high pitched voice followed that he didn’t recognise, “Remember Rudy, our orders are to take him in alive.”

    It must have been the new boy who had replaced him.

   “Sure thing,” Rudy answered. Taylor imagined the smile on his face that he wasn’t bothering to hide.

   “I can’t believe he killed the guards as well,” it was Lennox he could now hear, “that motherfucker is cold.”

   He crept silently back into the bedroom and closed the door behind him, careful not to make any sound.

   “Shit,” he whispered to himself.

   He was all too aware of the situation he was in; trapped in an enclosed space with at least two well-armed thugs after him who would shoot long before their boy-leader could stop them. He looked around for a weapon and quickly chose the lamp that rested on the bedside table. Removing the shade and flipping it over, he tested its weight in the palm of his opposite hand. Happy at the density of the marble base, he went back into the bathroom and turned the hot water tap in the shower on as far as it would go. As the steam quickly filled the room, he manoeuvred himself into the position he would launch his counter-attack from.

   It took another minute before he heard the bedroom door open. A layer of steam had settled on the sweat that already lined his face and he willed whoever it was in the adjacent room to hurry their search. Just as he was able to work out that the footsteps were getting closer, the door flung open with such force it almost crushed him. He had to repress the urge to scream when the door smashed into his foot.

   Lennox stepped into the room with his rifle aimed directly at the shower. The device had done its job perfectly and completely engulfed the room in steam. He chuckled quietly to himself, then not caring if he was heard, stepped forward and with the muzzle of his rifle pushed the shower curtain open.

   “Got you, motherfucker,” he said.

  
Before Lennox had the chance to realise it was empty, Taylor made his move. He took a couple of quick steps forward then brought the heavy lamp down on the top of the man’s skull. Lennox didn’t even have time to see the identity of his attacker. By the time his body hit the floor, Taylor was already on it. He snatched Lennox’s pistol from its holster and stuffed it into the back of his jeans, making sure to take the spare magazine from the oaf’s belt.

  
Stepping over the fallen slab of muscle and into the bedroom, he was about to make his escape when he heard another pair of boots reach the top of the stairs and head in his direction along the hallway. He pulled the gun out from his jeans, and deciding to use the same trick again, hid behind the bedroom door in anticipation of the intruder’s arrival. Taylor longed for it to be Rudy who appeared. He was looking forward to killing him so much it made the glands in his jaw ache.

   “Lennox?”

   Disappointment struck him when the high-pitched voice rang out. He put the gun back in his jeans, knowing there was an easier way of dealing with this inexperienced boy he had no real desire to hurt. The door promptly opened in a far gentler manner and the kid cautiously entered the room; completely forgetting the golden rule to always check behind the door you had just entered. It only took a couple of steps before he could see Lennox’s feet peering up at him from the adjacent room.

   Before he could speak into his throat-mike to alert the others, Taylor pounced. He wrapped his right arm around the boy’s neck so his elbow hinge clutched his fragile windpipe and at the same time pushed against the back of the boy’s head with his left hand, forcing him deeper into the choke. As he feebly struggled, Taylor squeezed his elbows together, completing the technique. In less than five seconds, he had rendered the boy unconscious and he hadn’t even had to hit him.

   He gently laid his victim down, then after hearing nothing but silence coming from the hallway, decided to make his move. The others were most likely searching the main floor of the apartment, making this his only chance of escape. He thought about taking one of their assault rifles but decided against it; the plan was to escape, not get into a firefight. Plus, he didn’t know how many of the team were in the building and didn’t want to risk hitting the ones he still considered to be friends.

   Taylor peered over the edge of the mezzanine but could see nothing; they must have been searching one of the numerous rooms that belonged to the lower floor of the apartment. Once he was down the stairs, it was a relatively straight dash to the entrance and lobby. He had no other option but to go for it whilst the opportunity still presented itself.

  With the pistol at his shoulder he moved down the stairs as quickly and silently as he could. When he was halfway across the room, he heard a clanging noise coming from the kitchen and instinctively threw himself at the ground. He stayed there for a few moments, aiming his pistol at the offending area, then when only silence followed, continued his escape.

   Taylor knew when he got to the doors that one of the team would likely be guarding the elevator. That was how he would have done it if he was in charge. He almost resigned himself to his fate as he placed his hand on the doorknob but there was no alternative; it was his only way out.  He pulled down the handle and threw the door open, aiming the pistol towards the elevator as he quickly stepped into the lobby. Doyle had a look in his face that suggested he had been expecting him for some time.

   Taylor held his spare hand up in a motion to tell Doyle not to fire, but his protégé was already lowering his rifle to the floor.

   “I didn’t do it,” he whispered as he closed the door behind him. He looked down at the bodies of the two guards whose throats had been slit. Whoever killed them had taken them completely by surprise.

   Doyle took a step away from his weapon, “I know.”

   “Who sent you here?” Taylor asked.

   “That’s just it,” Doyle said, “that’s why I knew something was wrong. We got a call at the university. It was all very hush-hush. They told us to come straight here and apprehend you but not to involve any of the other units. It all sounded wrong.”

   “Who called you?”

   Doyle shrugged, “Jenkins didn’t say.”

   “Jenkins? Is that the kid?”

   “Yeah,” Doyle paused, “you haven’t hurt him have you?”

   Taylor shook his head.

   Doyle pressed the button and the elevator doors opened, “You better go, before the others realise you’ve gone.”

   Taylor went to step past him but Doyle stood in his path, blocking the way.

  “You’re going to have to hit me, otherwise they’ll think I helped you,” he smiled weakly, “just make sure it’s a good one.”

   Without saying anything, Taylor hit him with a left hook, catching him flush on the jaw, just below the ear. Apart from the temple, it was the best place to guarantee a knockout and he had landed it perfectly. Stepping over Doyle’s body he entered the lift and pressed the button to send him  to the ground floor.

   With the carriage in slow descent, he ran the morning’s events through his head and no matter how he looked at it, kept coming to the same conclusion; it had to have been Milton. Charlotte was right, he had discovered their affair and come up with a perfect revenge; kill her and blame it on Taylor. That’s why he made sure that it was his own team who arrested him. He knew they would never let him out alive if they got hold of him. It was also, no doubt, why he’d put Jenkins in charge of them. He was all too aware the boy would never be able to reign them in.

   When the doors re-opened it was Spike whose rifle was now being directed at him. Taylor couldn’t help but smile when he saw his friend in the downstairs lobby. He couldn’t think of anyone else in the City he’d rather see under the circumstances.

   He stepped out of the lift and stuffed the pistol back into his jeans,

   “Jesus Spike, thank fuck it’s you.”

   Spike’s face remained serious as he continued to keep his rifle trained on Taylor.

   “I’d prefer it if you put the gun on the ground boss.”

   At first he thought his friend was choosing an ill-opportune time to fuck with him.

   “Come on Spike,” he said, “I need to get going, now.”

   The smile he was expecting never materialised.

    “Sorry Taylor but I’ve got to take you in. Now please, put the fucking gun on the floor.”

   Taylor could feel himself growing angry, “Come on Spike, it wasn’t me, you must know that.”

   “Exactly,” Spike said, “I do know, and that’s why I’m trying to protect you. If you run you’re going to get yourself killed.”

   Without taking his eyes off Taylor, Spike nodded towards the main entrance of the building, “Where are you going to go? There’s more surveillance in this city than anywhere else in the world.”

   “Don’t do this,” Taylor said, shaking his head.

   “Look at yourself,” Spike answered, looking down at Taylor’s semi-naked body, “you’ve got no shoes, no shirt, how far do you think you’re gonna get before you get your ass shot to pieces. I’m doing you a favour here, let’s go see Milton and we’ll work this whole thing out. I’ll make sure those assholes don’t get near you”

   Taylor took a few steps closer to Spike and was shocked to see his friend take an equal number back.

   “You don’t understand,” he said, “it was Milton who set me up. I was having an affair with his wife and he found out. This is his pay back.”

   Spike lowered the rifle slightly, “Shit.”

   “You need to let me go or they’ll kill me before I even get back to headquarters. You’ve got to believe me.”

   Spike dropped the rifle to his side, “Fuck Taylor, what have you done?”

   Before he could attempt an answer, the doors of the second lift car opened accompanied by a gently pinging sound. Taylor turned just in time to see the butt of Skinner’s shotgun drive towards his head. The blow knocked him to the ground causing him to slide along the shiny floor like a well-polished bowling ball.

   Despite the painful fog in his brain, he attempted to lift his head but was quickly aware of Rudy looking down on him with his foot raised, ready to bring down on him with all his weight.

   “Goodnight asshole,” Rudy said.

   After that there was only darkness.

Chapter 20

   In his dream, Taylor walked along the beach, his feet splashing in the warm, shallow water. He was holding hands with the girl from the postcard he had been handed in the Old-Town. The woman had retained her curvy body and large breasts, but it was Charlotte’s face he was seeing as they splashed through the surf. She turned and smiled at him then looked out to the massive expanse of crystal blue water. They were the only people on the beach. It felt like they could have been the only people left in the world, and although they didn’t speak to one another, they were both happy. Taylor prayed for the dream to never end.

   When consciousness finally dragged him away from the idyllic shores, it left him not only with an acute throbbing pain in the front of his head, but also anger that he may never go back there again. He opened his eyes and stared at a grey metallic sky overhead. It was only when he heard the dull roar of the engine that he realised he was in the back of the Rhino, looking up at its roof. He tried to lift his head but that only intensified the pain in his skull so he gave up and let it fall back to the ground. He heard a grunting sound and wasn’t sure if it was him who had made it.

   “Looks like he’s finally awake.”

   Taylor looked up to see Rudy’s face hovering above his own. He was lying in the aisle between the two bench-seats. His eyes moved to the left and saw general issue boots attached to a pair of legs that may or may not have been Rudy’s.

   “Hey Doyle,” Taylor could hear Lennox’s voice but not see him, “your boyfriend’s back.”

   “Where are we?” he asked, not quite trusting that the voice he could hear was his own.