The Getaway (Sam Archer 2) (38 page)

Tate looked at them for a moment, the three corpses motionless, blood and brains spattered around them. Then he went to turn back to the helicopter, but suddenly, another car burst into view through the entra
nce, driving fast towards
him
.

Tate squinted through the visor, pushing the release catch on his M16 and quickly reloading.

It was Archer.

Archer couldn’t believe what he saw
as he drove into the airfield.

Farrell, Ortiz and Regan were all dead. Shot by Tate. He’d screwed them. He saw the man lift his M16. Archer reacted fast and slid the car to a halt on its side, opening the driver’s door and sliding out the side as a hail of bullets hit the side of the vehicle. He landed awkwardly on the tarmac, but pulled his father’s Sig from his pocket as Tate continued to fire on the car. He heard a click and the firing stopped as Tate’s magazine emptied. Archer then rose up over the trunk of the car, his arm resting on the metal top, the Sig aimed dead straight at Tate’s chest twenty yards away.

He fired, relentless, bullet after another, his aim straight from resting his arm on the car. Most of the bullets hit Tate in the chest and head, knocking him back slightly, but each one
pinged
and
dinged
off the
body armour under his clothes.

None of them were getting through.

Shit
.

He knew it was useless. He would never pi
erce the body armour from here.

As Tate dropped down to one knee to reload his M16, Archer saw another car pull into the lot from an entrance ahead and to the left, s
peeding over the weeded tarmac.

Siletti was at the wh
eel.

The car screeched to a stop beside Farrell and his team’s getaway car and Siletti climbed out, a silenced pistol in his hand. Archer aimed and fired four more times at Tate, all four hitting him in the chest. None of them got even close to getting through the armour. Siletti fired back, then took cover, running around the side of his car and popping the trunk. Archer saw him drag Jessie out, her hands duct-taped behind her, a grey strip over her mouth and passed her to Tate. Someone had pulled a blindfold over her eyes, and strands of hair hung over it, the girl trembling as she stood there.

‘
Enough!
’ Tate called, from under the helmet, grabbing the girl by the hair. He threw his M16 to the ground and pulled a Glock pistol from a holster on his hip, putting the gun to the girl’s head. ‘Drop the gun or the girl dies!’

Behind the trunk of the car, Archer didn’t move, his arm still gripping the pistol, aimed at Tate. He looked at Jessie, her body shaking and terrified. As long as the guy had the gun to her head, there was nothing he c
ould do.

‘Drop it!’
Tate screamed.

Archer rose very slowly, then tossed the gun to the ground, still standing behind Katic’s car.

During this, Siletti had moved to the back seat of his car, pulling Sanderson out, dragging him towards Tate and pushing him to the ground. He was also duct-taped and bound.  Lastly, Siletti walked back and dragged out Katic, pulling her by the hair to stand beside Tate, a silenced pistol in his hand, the harsh black barrel against Katic’s soft features. The two sides stood there looking at each other, the helicopter behind Siletti and Tate, the dead bodies of Farrell, Ortiz and Regan between them. There was no sign of O’Hara.

‘So what’s the deal?’ Archer called, at Tate, pointing at the corpses. ‘You kill all your friends and walk away?’

Tate stood still for a moment, the
gun still to the child’s head.

He said nothing.

Then he let go of the girl, and reache
d up and lifted off his helmet.

He had a balaclava on underneath, which he pulled off too.

Archer froze.

He stared.

He thought he was dreaming.

He couldn’t believe it.

He was looking at Supervisory Special Agent Todd Gerrard.

TWENTY-THREE

‘Gerry?’

‘Don’t move, Sam. Or the kid dies,’ Gerrard said, grabbing Jessie again and putting the pistol to her head.

Archer stared at hi
m.

He was stunned.

‘Gerry, what the hell are you doing?’

‘What does it look like I’m doing? The bags. Throw them over here.’

Archer didn’t move. Gerrard pulled back the hammer on his pistol, the gun to the girl’s head.

‘Don’t make me kill her, kid. Throw over the bags.’

‘Gerry, put the gun down.’

‘
Bags!’
he screamed.

In his hand, Jessie started to cry, scared, her sobs muffled under the strip of duct-tape, her eyes shielded behind the blindfold.

Archer stayed still for a moment longer, then complied. He opened the trunk, grabbing the two bags by the handles, then threw them over towards him and Siletti, one at a time. They were about twenty yards from each other and the bags landed ten feet from Gerrard. They landed with a thud, next to the corpses of Farrell, Ortiz and Regan and beside their getaway car. Archer still stared at Gerrard, in disbelief. He looked into his eyes.

But the man he
'd known for so long
wasn’t there anymore.

‘Y
ou played me, this whole time?’

Gerrard didn’t re
ply.
Beside him, Siletti grinned, ear to
ear, like the Grinch.

‘Yeah. We did,
’
he said.

‘Where’s O’Hara?’

‘Dead. Same as you’ll
be soon enough,’ Siletti said.

Archer looked at Gerrard, desperate for some kind of an explanation. His mind flashed back during the past week, through everything that had happened, like someone flipping
through a stack of photographs.

And suddenly, it all made sense.

‘So that’s the deal,’ Archer said, looking into Gerrard’s eyes. ‘You got sent here from D.C, broke and
humiliated
. Farrell and his team had just started pulling the jobs in the city. You were honest at first, but then everything finally just got to you. You met with Farrell, said you would make sure they never got rumbled so long as they gave you a slice. You did that for a while, but then they let you go. They decided they could do the rest without you. And you didn’t have any evidence to convict them. You couldn’t get within a mile of them. They knew you, and every member of your team, and if you tried Farrell would shop you
to people in D.C
.
You were stuck, in limbo.
So you figured you could use me instead.’

Gerrard
said nothing.

‘You knew I’d be wound up, not thinking straight because of what happened to Dad. You made it seem like I was helping you bring them down whereas all you wanted was to find out where they were keeping their cash. I told you Tate made the trips down to A.C, so you went down there and killed him. You didn’t get called to D.C, did you?’

Gerrard said nothing.

‘But somewhere along the line, he got wise,’ Archer said, pointing at Siletti. ‘He confronted you about it. I’m guessing he demanded to be involved, or else he’d start talking. O’Hara did the same. So you were working together, covering each other’s backs. You thought Parker and Lock might have their suspicions, so you executed them. You know how to trick a crime-scene. You covered all your tracks. It ran like clock-work, right?’

Neither said a word.
Katic looked
up
at him, tears in her eyes.

‘But you screwed up. Because Sanderson is here. He’s seen and knows everything you two are doing. How the hell are you going to explain his disappearance?’

‘By leaving too,’ Siletti said. ‘We’re out of here. We’re never coming back. We’ve got enough money here to live on for three lifetimes.’

Archer saw silent tears streaming down Katic’s face, her hair snatched in Siletti’s grip. Gerrard turned to Siletti.

‘Fire it up,
’
he said.

Siletti nodded with a grin. Turning, he dragged Katic with him to the cockpit and flicked some switches. The rotors started to move slowly, as the vessel warmed up. The engine made no sound yet though. Gerrard looked at Archer, who was staring right back at him, into his soul.

‘I didn’t want to kill your father, Sam,’ he said. ‘He brought it on himself.’

Archer stared at him.

‘
You?
’

Silence.

‘You were the one who killed him?’

‘He shouldn’t have come down here and messed with other people’s affairs. He should have kept his nose out. He wanted to meet me in the parking lot. He wanted to confront me, to find out what the hell was going on, to tell me about Siletti and O’Hara. He figured I was still on the FBI side. But he had proof. And I couldn’t let him do it. So I killed him when he turned his back. Shotgun. Just like Farrell and his team used.’
Pause. 'I didn't want to do it, Sam. But I had to. I made it quick.'

Archer
blinked, fighting back emotion.

‘You were his oldest friend,
’
he said, his voice shaky.

‘Then what had he done for me lately?’ Gerrard screamed. ‘Did he help me out when I got canned? No. Did he even try?
Did he care?
No. He
didn't give a shit. He
abandoned me
just
like everyone else. He deserved it. He should have stayed in D.C and left me the hell alone.
Now he's dead for it.
’

There was a pause. Siletti had re-joined Gerrard, grinning wolfishly at Archer, holding Katic by the collar, t
he silenced pistol to her head.
Behind them the rotors to the helicopter were starting to spin, gathering speed, the blades whirring faster and faster.

‘So what now?’
Archer said. 'You two just pack up the money and fly away?'

‘Exactly. But for you, it ends here,
’
Siletti said.

Archer saw
the other man's
eyes glance to
Archer’s pistol, on the ground.

He'd
won and he knew it.

‘Oh, I’ve been waiting for this,’
Siletti
continued.
‘You’ll be seeing your father real soon, you piece of shit. If you’ve got any prayers, say them now.’

He pushed Katic to the ground, throwing his silenced pistol to one side. He scooped up the M16 lying on the ground, and pulled the slide, a bullet flying out the ejection port.

‘I’m going to give you every single bullet in this thing,’ he said, the weapon
clutched
in his hands. ‘Then the bitch, the kid and Sanderson die too. And there’s nothing you can to stop me.’

Archer looked over at Gerrard.
He loo
ked back, his eyes emotionless.
Behind them, the helicopter was
warmed up, the rotors spinning.
The engine was slowly starting to whine.

‘I’m sorry, Sam. I can’t le
t you walk away,’ Gerrard said.
He turned to Siletti.
‘Time to go.’

Gerrard pulled on his helmet, fully protected in the body armour as Siletti grinned at him. Archer didn’t react. He just looked at Katic, who was looking up at him pleadingly, tears in her eyes.

‘Any last words
, asshole
?’ Siletti called, raising the M16.

Archer
looked at him, then at Gerrard.
Saw them both standing both there, near the back of the helicopter in the middle of the runway. The rotors whirring.

He no
dded, and looked down at Katic.

‘Turtle.’

There was a pause.
Siletti and Gerrard looked at him, confused.

Then Katic suddenly reached over and grabbed her daughter with her duct-taped hands, pulling her to the floor from Gerrard’s grip and covering her in a
flash.
It took Siletti and Gerrard by surprise, and they looked down at her for a split second.

At that same moment, Archer swept aside the right lapel of his coat, and grabbed something hanging from a strap looped around his shoulder.

It was a sawn-off Ithaca.

He grabbed the stock and the pistol grip and aimed the weapon, his hands steady as a rock, the weapon still
and already loaded
.
He momentarily ignored Gerrard.
He was wearing full body armour.

But Siletti wasn’t.

Archer a
imed the weapon straight at him and
pulled the trigger.

The weapon exploded, and the shell hit Siletti like a cannonball, throwing him back. Blood and bits of his torso and clothing sprayed in the air as the shell tore him in two. He splayed back on the concrete, dead in an instant.