STOP AT NOTHING: 'Mark Cole is Bond's US cousin mixed with the balls out action and killing edge of Jason Bourne' Parmenion Books (23 page)

52

You’ve got nowhere to go
, Vinh silently told the driver ahead. His car was always going to beat an ambulance, no question about it. The only question now was whether he would be able to nudge the ambulance off the road and kill this guy before the police descended on the scene. He could hear the sirens less than a mile away.

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw the back of the ambulance suddenly approaching him at an unbelievable speed. The target must have braked, but there was no warning, nothing at all, no time to stop –

Cole felt the Range Rover smash into the back of the ambulance with a mixture of satisfaction and trepidation. He was glad it had worked, but he was aware that he now had to finish things hand to hand.

The vehicles had come to a stop with the ambulance bonnet resting at the colossal left leg of the giant tower, the Range Rover buried halfway into the back end.

Cole wasted no time, and instead of jumping out of the driver’s side door he pushed straight through into the rear compartment. The Range Rover’s bonnet was almost touching the compartment wall, the whole front of the car ensconced within the rear of the ambulance. Cole leapt onto the bonnet, pistol aimed through the shattered windscreen. He scanned the interior. Nothing.

A sound to his left made him turn his head, and he saw Vinh rising up from behind the front wheel arch, his own pistol raised. Cole instinctively kicked out, knocking the weapon out of the man’s hand and bringing his own to bear.

Vinh was quick though, and rushed him, pulling a knife from a concealed sheath. Cole couldn’t get the handgun round fast enough to take a shot and so converted the movement into a clubbing attack, striking Vinh around the side of the head as the knife came straight at him.

Cole parried the blow, but Vinh came back through, slicing through Cole’s arm, forcing him to drop the gun. Cole grabbed the knife arm, pushing Vinh back against the interior wall of the ambulance, knocking the air out of him. He pulled him back round and smashed the man’s arm onto the bonnet of the Range Rover, forcing him to drop the knife.

Vinh used Cole’s distraction with the knife to grab hold of Cole himself, pulling him close in and aiming his teeth at Cole’s neck. Cole’s shoulder came up reflexively to protect himself, and Vinh’s teeth buried themselves deep into the muscle tissue there instead. Cole felt a terrible pain as Vinh’s head whipped back and forth, trying to tear the flesh.

Vinh’s concentration on the bite, however, opened him up to someone who could keep their head clear despite incredible pain, and Cole took the opportunity provided.

Two
marma adi
nerve strikes to the unprotected parts of Vinh’s body and neck were all it took for the bite to be released, and the life to flicker out of the man’s eyes. Cole could see that Vinh genuinely had no idea what had happened to him as he collapsed dead onto the floor of the ambulance, head coming to rest against the polished alloy wheel of his Range Rover.

Cole climbed over the car and out of the ruined back end of the ambulance, into the street. Despite the late hour, there
were
tourists here, and all eyes turned to Cole as he emerged from the ravaged vehicles.

There was professional interest as well, and he saw two members of the Eiffel Tower’s security detail racing from the control point towards him, hands going to the guns on their belt holsters.

The sirens were also louder now, and then he saw the flashing lights make the turn onto the street.

He turned again, back to the huge iron girders of the tower’s leg. He ran straight forwards, underneath the leg and through to the other side, even as the tower security guards shouted a warning, stopped, took aim and fired their 10mm rounds after him.

The shots ricocheted off the iron leg of the tower, and then Cole was out the other side, hurdling a low hedge into the darkness and relative safety of the Parc du Champ de Mars.

He was pretty sure he had not been seen, but that was the least of his worries; he still had to evade capture and make his way to Austria, so he could get to the rendezvous point and make sure his family were safe.

53

Sarah stared out of the window at the people milling about the platform.
Who was friendly?
, she wondered.
And who, more to the point, was not?

Four businessmen chatting over coffees, steam billowing out from the hot liquid into the cold air as they laughed at some unknown comment; young lovers, hand in hand, with rucksacks on their backs, gazing at one another almost without blinking; a homeless man begging near to the long queue of a cash machine, two armed station security guards hustling over to move him on; a school party, two dozen excited children and two distinctly stressed adult chaperones; these, and a hundred more besides.

Sarah sighed inwardly. It was just impossible to tell.
Impossible!

She knew the people who were after them would be trained not to stand out, would blend easily into such a crowd.
So what am I even looking for?
, she asked herself. She turned her head, and saw her two children, both sleeping peacefully next to one another in their big seats. She smiled warmly, smoothing their hair with her hand. They’d had a long, tiring day and were doing the only sensible thing.

They’re so sweet … So innocent.
A tear welled at the corner of one eye.

Sarah glanced down at Ben and Amy again, children sleeping peacefully in the safety provided by adults, then turned once more to stare out of the window at the crowded platform.

She could sleep later. When they were safe.

54

Hansard could not quite believe his ears. The news that was coming from France was just too much to reconcile. Cole had escaped again!

He had been strapped up helpless, under armed guard, travelling straight into the hands of two of Hansard’s best assassins! How could it possibly have gone wrong?

But Cole wasn’t the best for no reason, and the outcome shouldn’t really have surprised him, Hansard eventually realized. The problem was, what to do now? It seemed that they had lost all of their leads, and now Cole was free to meet up with his family in whatever safe location they had chosen.

He would be free to study the situation in detail, follow the events that would occur over the next few days, and possibly come to an understanding of what was happening, what Hansard’s overall plan was. Cole was certainly clever enough to piece everything together. The only thing was, would he do it in time to make a difference? Or would things have got to the stage where the truth no longer mattered?

55

The train pulled out at 2.34 precisely. Albright smiled into the bathroom mirror as he adjusted his hair.
German precision
.

He had made the train with only moments to spare, but he was confident that he had done it unseen by the targets.

He paused, looking into his own eyes in the mirror. He looked drawn, tired. But it was worth it; they’d tracked down their prey, and had closed the noose. There were two men in Carriage D, two more in F, whilst the four targets were ensconced in the cabin between them.

Albright had officially taken charge, and was seated in the same cabin as two of the other agents. He knew Sarah would recognize him instantly if their paths were to cross – the scars on his face would give him away. He also knew he should have taken the helicopter to Innsbruck to meet the train when it arrived and to organize the agents waiting there to pick up the tail. But he felt an urge – inexplicable, but there all the same, as an almost tangible, physical sensation – to keep close to the targets. Especially Sarah.

He shook his head, looking down at the sink. What was it with her? Why was the woman’s presence affecting him so much? But he knew all too well. He had underestimated her, and had paid the price. He turned his face to the mirror once more, fingers tracing the ugly scabs that traced their way across his forehead and down his cheeks, remnants of Sarah’s explosive gift on the yacht back in the Caymans. Yes, he was under no illusions about his obsession with her. It was revenge, pure and simple.

His reverie was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. He looked at the screen, saw that the number was withheld. Still, not that many people had access to this number. He answered after the second ring.

56

‘Albright,’ Hansard heard the agent say over the secure line.

‘This is Hansard,’ he said coolly. ‘Sit rep?’

He listened as Albright described the operation so far, sipping from a glass of cognac as he sat behind his office desk. He couldn’t remember the last time he had managed to get home, but it was of no consequence. Comfort and relaxation could come later.

He listened with silent amusement as Albright told him how the targets had been reacquired – the agent tried to dress it up as best he could in order to maximize his own role in the proceedings, but Hansard saw between the lines instantly, recognizing the more important role played by blind luck. Still, he reflected, there was nothing wrong with a little bit of luck now and again. Nothing at all.

The team of agents had a tight loop around the targets now, it seemed. The only problem would be if they realized they were being followed and called off the RV completely. There was no reason this should happen if the agents exercised caution, but you could never tell what might go wrong. Murphy’s Law was, after all, a regrettable fact of life.

It wouldn’t mean the end of the operation, of course; the targets could always just be picked up and interrogated, or held as bait for Cole, but such methods were crude and unpleasant, and would not guarantee results. As back-up plans, however, they were better than nothing.

57

Was it him?
She had only a brief look, but Sarah was positive. He had decided to take a stroll through the train just after it set off, just to double-check that they were safe, and in the very next carriage his attention had been immediately captured. A blond-haired man sitting and staring out of the window. Tanned, blond, with what looked like recent facial injuries. It was the agent from the yacht, the one who had followed them to Miami, she was sure.

We’ve been found
.

Albright spotted Sarah straight away, of course. Indeed, he had taken a seat in this carriage on purpose, to invite just such a situation. It wasn’t that he was
making
anything happen. Rather, it all depended upon whether Sarah remained in her own seat, in her own carriage, or whether she went roaming. The way Albright saw it, it was entirely up to fate. And in this instance, fate had been kind.

Sarah was back in her own carriage soon after, scanning the faces as casually – but as thoroughly – as she could. She didn’t feel that she was being watched., but that didn’t mean anything. The agents were definitely here on the train, and although she had no idea how they had found her, it was now a problem that she would have to deal with.

She decided quickly what to do, and whispered to her children. Moments later they were on the move.

Once she had Ben and Amy secreted in a toilet cubicle at the far end of the train, Sarah made her way back through to her original carriage. All that mattered now was her children. If she drew the attention of the agents, maybe they would forget all about Ben and Amy.

She thought of Mark, wondering where he was. Thinking of her husband reminded her of what they were doing on the train in the first place. She wasn’t angry with him; she had always accepted that something like this might happen one day, and he had made it clear to her when he had proposed. But she had accepted him as he was, risk and all.

Her children, however, had never asked for the risk, had never asked for their lives to be put in danger. And suddenly she felt shamefully guilty, horrified at the adult selfishness that had resulted in their current predicament.

Mark had told her she was strong enough to protect them herself, and her husband obviously thought that she was capable as.
But do
I
believe it?
, she wondered. At the end of the day though, she realized, her belief didn’t matter; she
had
to be strong enough, it was as simple as that. Until she reached Mark, she couldn’t rely on anyone else.

58

Hansard heard the phone ringing and picked up the receiver immediately, said his name, and then listened intently.

The news was decidedly bad. Apparently Albright had been spotted on board the train by Sarah, which now raised all sorts of issues. Would she still try and make the RV with her husband, or would she abort? Had she warned him? Arranged another meeting point? Or cancelled the meet entirely, and was now all set to lead them on a merry old goose chase? It was impossible to say with any degree of certainty.

He mulled the situation over as he turned in his chair to stare out of the large window onto the parking lot below, suburban sprawl beyond. He knew there was only one answer. Thinking further would only delay the inevitable.

‘Go to plan B,’ he said coldly. ‘Make her talk.’ With that simple command he replaced the telephone receiver and sat there quietly, staring out towards the river.

59

Albright replaced the mobile phone in his pocket and smiled to himself.
At last,
he thought.
At last.

He had advised this approach right from the start; rather than waste valuable time and resources following the Coles, why not just send in a team, pick them up and interrogate them? Albright himself was well versed in the art, and knew that some of the more recent techniques were practically guaranteed to get accurate information from the subject. But no, Hansard had wanted to play it safe, an order that surprised Albright. Hansard normally preferred the direct approach.

Still,
he thought happily,
better late than never.
He knew he wouldn’t be able to use the sophisticated methods that were available back at ‘Block C’, the DIA’s secure interrogation facility outside Virginia, but he would not let this deter him. He was certainly no stranger to the ‘old school’, more hands-on approach. In fact, from a strictly personal perspective, he actually preferred it. He told his colleagues that he felt it gave him a better ‘contact’ with ‘the client’, but they knew the real reason; he just enjoyed it, plain and simple.

He had just gone through the first carriage when he saw her, staring straight at him.
Hi Sarah
. She looked away quickly, but Albright knew he’d been recognized. Probably the damn scabs on his face, he realized. He couldn’t help but admire her calmness as she casually sat down and turned to stare out of the window.

Where are you going?
, he wondered.
You’ve got nowhere to go.