The Devil's Anvil (34 page)

‘Wake up!’ Daniel smacked her across the jaw, not the pat of a well-meaning doctor either, but delivered stingingly by his callused palm. Billie moaned at the pain and it wasn’t an act, though she made an effort to slowly blink and roll her head, then look up at her tormentor in fright. Daniel was bent at the waist, his hand lifted to slap again.

‘Good. I’ve got your attention. Now get up before I make you.’

‘I . . . I can’t.’ Billie cradled her jaw in the cup of her left palm. Her right hand still jostled the item around, difficult to hold on to with her broken and dislocated fingers. But she got the slim object in the crease of her palm, and held it in place by pressure from her thumb, the hand’s only undamaged digit.

‘There’s nothing wrong with your goddamn legs. Now move it, or I’ll make you real sorry.’

‘I can’t. I think my jaw’s broken.’

‘It’s not broken if you can still be so fucking insolent. Now get up before I smack that smart mouth of yours again.’ Losing patience, Daniel leaned in to grasp her under her left armpit. It was what Billie had been waiting for. Her right hand swung in a sharp arch, and smacked against the side of Daniel’s neck.

Daniel rocked back on his heels, a stunned expression on his face.

At first he must have thought Billie had punched him, because he could see both her hands were empty as she used them to push off from the wall. But then he felt with his fingers up the side of his neck and found the hypodermic syringe hanging from his flesh, the tip buried in his carotid artery. When she’d erupted from the table and gone for Amanda, the syringe had been knocked to the ground. As Erick dragged her unconscious body to the corner the syringe had caught in her clothing. It wasn’t full, but there was still enough of the drug to compromise anyone.

Daniel grabbed the syringe and plucked it out, inspecting it and seeing that it had delivered its payload of anaesthetic directly into his system. ‘Oh, you sneaky little tramp,’ he said. He flung the syringe aside and took a step forward. ‘Do you think that’s going to stop me?’

‘I’m sure it will,’ Billie said.

Shot into his thigh or shoulder, the drug would have had little effect but the carotid artery fed directly to the brain. Even before he got to mouth another threat, Daniel swayed, then buckled to one knee. He gave a bellow of rage, but it barely left his chest.

‘I told your brother not to touch me again,’ Billie said. ‘I warned him what would happen if he tried. I’m giving you the same warning.’

She moved alongside Daniel, and he tried to grab her, but his vision was already fading, and his groping fingers missed her by a mile. Billie crouched and slipped the sidearm from the holster on his belt. She was unfamiliar with the gun, but she’d shot other pistols before and this one was little different. She looked for a safety switch, before recalling that most modern firearms had integrated safety switches in the trigger mechanism. She pulled back the slide, arming the gun. Then she fed her trembling index finger through the trigger guard.

‘Didn’t you hear what I just said,’ Billie demanded, ‘about trying to touch me again?’

Daniel fell on to the flats of his hands and knees. He wasn’t in a fit state to hear any warning, or to heed it if he did. Then again, Billie didn’t expect him to. She expected him never to hear a thing again. She placed the gun to the nape of his skull, and though it was a struggle to make her numb finger work, she tugged on the trigger and the gun cracked sharply.

A splotch of blood hit the near wall. Billie’s gaze strayed towards it. The wall was a dull beige colour, the crimson drop stark against it, reminiscent of the trademark brushstroke her art was known for. She cocked her head quizzically, staring for a long beat, then her gaze drifted down to the corpse lying at her feet and the glistening hole in its skull. Daniel’s death barely moved her, and wasn’t as satisfying as she expected. Never mind, there were still plenty of bullets left in the gun and her fingers were working better each passing second.

Gunshots rattled nearby.

Joe was getting closer.

She went to make things easier for him.

37

I came across Erick Jaeger and a phalanx of guards moving hurriedly through a foyer area at the far end of the building. Through glass doors I could see waiting vans, preparing to transport the group safely out of harm’s way – perhaps far away, or then again maybe only as far as the helipad a few hundred yards off. I could hear the chatter of rotor blades, and guessed the chopper had been called in for a swift evacuation of the highest-ranking personnel – and Billie. But I couldn’t see her. The only woman in the group was a tall, hawkish woman who dabbed at cuts on her cheeks and one eyelid. The woman was arguing that she had her own transportation on stand-by, and ordered Erick to call her driver, but the PMC was having none of it. Good job, because Amanda Sheehan’s chauffeur was currently enjoying Rink’s company.

Billie’s absence was worrying.

I fully expected that she would be escorted out of the building along with those interrogating her, moved somewhere that wasn’t the middle of a battle zone. But I was wrong.

A moment ago I heard the crack of a handgun. A single shot. An execution?

There was no knowing if that gunshot signified Billie’s death, but I could think of no other reason for it. As I progressed through the annexe, I’d drawn the fight my way, so unless it was an accidental discharge by a nervous shooter, it had been done deliberately and for a specific reason. My guts clenched in regret. After all I’d done, all those I’d killed, I’d come too late. It was all for nothing if Billie was dead. No. Not for nothing. I’d tried my hardest and would continue to do so. If that now meant avenging her death, then Billie would not have died in vain. I readied both guns, about to lurch out from behind the door frame which hid me and cut down as many of her murderers as possible.

But Erick stopped, and he stared back thoughtfully. He mouthed words to himself, then turned to the group of six guards surrounding Amanda Sheehan. ‘Get Miss Sheehan to the chopper. Wilkes, Bryant,’ he indicated two of the PMCs, ‘you’re with me. We’re going back for Danny.’

Sheehan twisted her face in anger. ‘Worried that your brother has messed up again, Erick? Surely even he can handle one woman?’

‘I told him to get Womack out, and he should have been here by now. Didn’t you just hear that gunshot?’

‘So he killed her. The problem’s over.’

‘No. His orders were to get her out, not shoot her. Something has happened.’ Erick peered in the direction of a stairwell they’d recently come from. ‘I’m going to check.’

‘Leave him. Your priority is to get me safely away.’ Sheehan was strident.

‘You’re safe with your detail. I’m going back for my brother. Wilkes, Bryant, on me.’ Without waiting, Erick headed for the stairs followed by the two PMCs, while behind him Sheehan clenched her fists around the bloodied tissues.

‘I’m recommending your immediate discharge after this, Captain Jaeger. You and your brother. You’re both finished.’

Erick stopped, turned and faced his superior. ‘Don’t you get it, Sheehan? We’re all finished. Procrylon’s finished. You’re finished. The best things to do now are to shut your fucking mouth, get in that chopper and go as far away from here as you can. Lose yourself, before you’re burned along with the rest of us.’

Sheehan was horrified at the fatalism in Erick’s warning. Perhaps it had just dawned on her that the entire operation was a complete disaster. What should have been a simple snatch and interrogation of a single woman had grown into a pitched battle, numerous casualties and a failure to learn anything she was supposed to. Those she worked for, whether it was the directors of Procrylon, or the private military company charged with protecting their assets, would deem her ultimately responsible for the massive cluster fuck. Erick wasn’t kidding when he warned they would be burned, and going by their usual methods, it wouldn’t be a case of a golden handshake by way of a healthy severance payoff from Procrylon – it would be a lead slug behind the ear or worse. Even if they escaped punishment from their employers, it had to be apparent by now that the weight of the law enforcement community would come down on them all after this. Her best bet would be to run for the hills, or some remote desert island, change her identity and keep her head low for many years.

If I had my way I’d stop her. She was as much an enemy as Erick and the rest of the faceless cadre I’d come to refer to as Procrylon. She was responsible for hurting Billie, possibly more than her hired mercs were. I was tempted again to step out and save some time by delivering the bullet to the skull she deserved. Yet I held back, again watching as Erick and his small team mounted the stairs. Then, as Sheehan and her detail pushed outside and climbed into the vans, I came out of hiding and followed hot on Erick’s heels.

If Daniel had executed Billie, I needed to know. If such was the case, then I wasn’t going to allow the younger Jaeger to leave this building alive. It made sense that his older brother would try to stop me, and there were only two ways that could end. He’d be dead or I would. But those were the cards that were dealt us, and we were both still in the game. If by some miracle Billie had survived, then we’d have to wait and see how the end played out.

38

Erick’s shout of dismay gave a clue how things had gone down in Billie’s holding room. I heard him call out to his brother, and it was the strangled croak of a concerned sibling, not that of a soldier-at-arms. I couldn’t see the man, but his friends kept a respectful distance, and from the looks on their faces, the shakes of their heads, what Erick had found in the room wasn’t good news. At least not for them. There were thumps and thuds, and I pictured the bespectacled man crouching over Daniel’s corpse, trying to shake some life back into it. Erick’s voice was too low to hear, but only for a brief spell. It was followed by an animalistic howl that grew in volume and erupted into savage rage. When he stormed out of the room, his firearm held aloft, head swivelling as he sought a target, I knew for certain that his brother was dead and that Billie was loose somewhere in the sprawling facility. Discounting the elevators, there was only the one way down, and none of us had stumbled upon Billie on the climb upstairs. She had fled deeper into the building, perhaps following the sounds of my gun battle with those on the lower floor of the annexe.

I was concealed at the corner of the stairwell, a couple of steps down, but able to lean out and spy on them. It was regrettable that I hadn’t chosen this way inside the building to begin with. Had I done so, it would have been a quick run up one flight of stairs and I’d have found where Billie was being held, instead of having to fight my way through three buildings. Never mind, what was done was done. The reality was that my running battle had perhaps been for the best. It had put everyone in a mild state of panic and confusion, and had given Billie the opportunity to escape. Immediately storming the building via this route, things might have ended differently. Billie would be the one lying dead in that room, and who knew what would have become of the rest of us?

Erick was in my sights. The other two PMCs had their backs to me. I could kill them all and be done. Shooting someone in the back is seen as cowardice, but that’s in a rose-tinted fantasy world. In the blood and guts arena of deadly combat you took the opportunities when you could, and to hell with the morality. I prepared to come out shooting.

Suddenly Erick wheeled away. He charged off and after a pause to gather their bearings, his backup detail followed. I mentally cursed, but waited as they raced along the corridor and disappeared deeper inside the building. Erick must have realised the same as me: Billie had gone in search of another way out, and with his superior knowledge of the layout of the building he was trying to cut off her escape route. Shit, I should have shot him the moment he poked his head out that door, but something had held me back. Maybe he deserved a moment of grief because, when all was said and done, Daniel was still his brother, and, despite the fact they were hard-nosed soldiers, uncompromising and tough, they would still share sibling love, and should be allowed at least a single tear of loss. But that was the only allowance I was going to make. I followed on their heels.

Erick moved without fear, good sense overridden by his need for vengeance. Plunging ahead, he neglected to watch his six, and towed along in his wake his friends made the same mistake. I followed within spitting distance and could have killed them in short order. Except it was better that I wait, follow to an appropriate exit and then do what needed doing. We went down a set of stairs, through some deserted workspaces and into a corridor I recognised as one I’d been in earlier. There I’d traded bullets with a PMC and butted his girlfriend who tried to blind me with her nails. The corpse had been dragged away, but there was a wide swathe of blood. Footprints tracked away from us, and small, bare feet had formed them. The heel prints were faint, probably due to the fact the person was running, but I was reminded of the way that Billie bounced on the balls of her feet when she walked. Then again, who else would be running around barefoot except for an escaped prisoner?