Perdition's Daughters, page 33
‘What about Mead? Someone has to be seen to pay. I need to set an example.’
‘Colonel Mead died a few hours ago.’
‘Died? How?’
‘Heart attack; he wasn’t a well man. Kozlov knew that, so did his friend Durakovic.’
‘How do I know this isn’t a trick?’
‘Check the obituaries, he’ll be in them.’
‘Obituaries appear in newspapers, newspapers you control.’
‘I don’t control all of them and I certainly don’t control the signing of death certificates.’
‘Very well, I’ll check, but that still doesn’t satisfy my need for an example, Mr Temple.’
‘It does. Nobody has to know Colonel Mead’s death was a natural one. There’s nothing to stop you saying you had him killed, assassinated, poisoned. There’s no one to deny it. I’ll even run stories to that effect in my newspapers. The world loves a good conspiracy theory. You can still have your example and our business would be concluded.’
The telephone went silent.
‘Very well, Mr Temple, I agree to your proposal – almost. I can’t call off my men, it’s too late – so here’s my offer. If my men fail, I will send no more. You and your friends will live. I will claim the assassination of Colonel Mead and we will call the matter closed. Do we have a deal?’
‘We have a deal,’ Daniel said grimly, ending the call.
TWENTY-NINE
Daniel and Coleman entered the drawing room. Jane Mead sat with her daughters. They looked pale, afraid and heartbroken.
Daniel looked at them sympathetically, but had no words of comfort. No small talk.
‘I’m sorry to get straight to business, Jane, but time really is against us. I have to explain some of the background to what has happened, how Richard was being blackmailed and by whom. You have to understand, we still have things to do to safeguard your future.’
Jane Mead looked at him tearfully and nodded slowly. She understood.
‘It’s alright, Daniel. Please continue.’
Daniel explained his plan.
Jane and girls nodded and cried.
Daniel remained passive, unemotional and focussed.
‘You all agree?’ Daniel asked.
Jane nodded. ‘Yes, we understand,’ she confirmed, her voice low and weak.
‘We have to move fast. Radimov is already acting; he wants his revenge. Everything we do now will be done with the utmost speed and secrecy. Every transaction will be untraceable, at least not to you. Your new life starts right now –today,’ Daniel explained, speaking directly to Jane.
Jane nodded again. She looked sad and bewildered by the speed and enormity of what was unfolding.
‘You are now Jane, Elizabeth and Jennifer Edison. Your new passports will be here within the next twenty-four hours. Your entire life history, every computer record, every detail, will be replaced. Everything that was, will have gone. Once the work has been completed, everything about your previous lives will have been erased – permanently. The Mead family no longer exists. Your house in Tunbridge Wells will be purchased by a development subsidiary of Temple Stamford at full market price. Your personal effects will be removed and shipped to a storage warehouse, where they will be theoretically lost before being shipped again, untraceably. Your flight to Vancouver leaves tomorrow evening. Mead Associates has been wholly purchased by Temple Stamford. Bank accounts in your new name have been opened in your local branch of a Canadian bank. Another subsidiary of Temple Stamford has deposited the sum of just over $6 million Canadian dollars. The transaction will be unconnected and untraceable to any of us. The money equates to the value of your house, Richard’s share of Mead Associates at today’s exchange rate, plus a parting gift from me. Andrew Campbell, our company solicitor, will take care of all of the details.’
‘What about Lesya and Yana?’ Elizabeth asked.
‘Don’t worry about them. Andrew and an interpreter are talking with them now. My people have already been in contact with the Poppy Project, who offer support, counselling and accommodation for victims of human trafficking. I also have people trying to contact their families. I think they would both like to go home as soon as we can make it happen. Whatever happens, I can assure you they will be safe and well taken care of,’ Daniel said reassuringly.
Petr took little interest in the passing countryside as the car sped through the narrow country lanes. He sat with his men, checking the weapons and talking quietly. It was to be a quick hit. Nothing fancy. Nothing elaborate. Just in and out, using as much firepower as necessary. His orders were plain and simple – kill Daniel Temple.
Coleman turned to Daniel.
‘Walk with me a while, Daniel, let’s leave Jane and the girls to have some time to themselves,’ he said placing his hand on Daniel’s shoulder.
Daniel and Coleman walked through the house and out into the cold, grey and damp afternoon.
‘Something’s still bothering you, Daniel,’ Coleman stated intuitively.
Daniel nodded. ‘They’re still coming – coming for me, coming for them. I really thought we might have a little more time. This guy, Radimov, took control immediately. He knew what was expected and sounds as equally shrewd and hard as Kozlov ever was.’
Daniel stopped walking, his mind clicking up a gear, alarm bells sounding in his head.
‘They’re here already,’ he stated.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Radimov said he couldn’t stop them. It was too late. They must be here – out of contact.’
‘You should all be safe here, at least for another twenty-four hours. After that Jane and girls will be gone. Lesya and Yana are safe. That’s the point. They’ll go for me first – I’m sure of it. They won’t come here.’
‘Oh my god. The farm – Mrs Hall, Daniel, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think.’
‘No, it’s OK, neither did I. I was too wrapped up in everything else.’
‘You’d better get going. Take the Range Rover – take my gun from the safe in the study, you know where it is.’
Daniel left Coleman, jogged stiffly across the grounds and through the house. Grabbing the gun and car keys he sprinted to the garage. Leaping in to the Range Rover, he started the engine, snapped it into gear and floored it. The tyres squealed, wheel-spinning across the smooth concrete floor as the big 4x4 shot through the opening and onto the drive, sending gravel spitting in all directions. Daniel raced down the drive, simultaneously pressing the buttons on the steering wheel for the hands-free phone.
Petr’s car drove slowly past the entrance to Temple Farm, turned at the road junction and doubled back to pull to a stop opposite the open-gated track. The three men climbed out and walked up the narrow, rutted lane towards the large, walled yard of the farmhouse. The car pulled away. For safety, Petr had arranged for their collection to be initiated by a telephone call after the job was done. No call – no collection.
Petr watched the house carefully as the three men approached. The afternoon light was fading rapidly and a thick blanket of dark-iron cloud hung low as the winter evening came closing in. Heavy drops of rain began to spot on the ground.
At Petr’s signal, the three men stopped, waited and watched as a stout middle-aged woman walked past the downstairs windows, flicking switches and sending light spilling a short way across the darkening yard.
Petr moved them forward.
‘Don’t harm the woman, we may need her,’ he ordered as they approached the door.
Petr stepped ahead, holding his Glock pistol one-handed behind his back. He reached forward and rang the doorbell.
The three men waited in silence as the rain began to fall.
The door opened and a jovial-looking, grey-haired lady stood before them.
‘Good evening. May I help you?’ she asked, politely and cheerfully.
The telephone began to ring.
‘Excuse me a moment,’ she said, turning her back on the door, heading for the wall-mounted telephone in the hallway.
Petr burst through the door, followed by his men.
‘Temple Fa-’
Petr’s hand slammed down the receiver.
Daniel listened as the telephone rang.
‘Come on, Mrs H, pick up,’ he said anxiously as he drove.
‘Temple Fa-’ he heard her familiar voice start, then abruptly cut off.
‘Mrs H?’ Daniel called. There was nothing.
The phone went dead.
‘Shit,’ Daniel said, pressing the accelerator to the floor.
Petr followed his men as they bundled Mrs Hall into the lounge and threw her down onto the sofa. She was breathing hard, her eyes wide open with terror.
‘Where is Daniel Temple?’ Petr asked.
Mrs Hall shook her head. ‘He’s not here,’ she replied, her eyes nervously darting from one man to the other.
Petr nodded to the other men. ‘Check the house,’ he ordered.
The two men left the room and closed the door.
Petr looked back down at the woman on the sofa.
‘Who are you?’ he asked in a heavily-accented voice.
‘I’m, I’m just the housekeeper,’ she fearfully stammered.
‘Where is he?’
‘I, I don’t know, he’s been away. I’m not sure when he’ll be back. I don’t even know if he’s in the country.’
‘He’s here, which means he’ll be back. Are there any guns in the house?’
Mrs Hall shook her head. ‘I don’t know, I don’t think so,’ she answered.
‘This is a farm, isn’t it? He must have a shotgun or something?’
‘No, I don’t know, I’m just his housekeeper,’ she repeated.
Petr nodded slowly. ‘Very well, housekeeper, we’ll just wait.’
It was raining hard. Daniel drove at breakneck speed, his heart thumping in his chest. He hurled the Range Rover through the narrow country lanes. The big V8 engine growled and roared as Daniel pushed the stability and traction control systems to their limit.
Daniel entered the last quarter of a mile, slowed the car and killed the lights as he cruised by the gated drive. There was no one there – the road dark and quiet. He turned at the road junction, doubled back and pulled the Range Rover across the gateway, blocking the drive. Climbing out of the car, he stepped in to the torrential rain, chambered a round in the Sig-Sauer and clicked on the safety.
Daniel stepped off the track, carefully made his way through the adjacent field and into the orchard, approaching the yard under the cover of the trees and large stone wall. He reached the small door in the centre of the orchard wall, eased it open an inch and looked across to the house. Lights shone in the windows. He checked each window in turn.
Seeing no one, Daniel stayed inside the orchard, followed the wall until he was level with the rear of the house and climbed over. He dropped silently into the shadows at the end of the garden and moved forward, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the house.
Staying out of the light, he crept in low, just close enough to see into the house. The lights in his study were off. The rear corner of the house was dark. He moved forward, slowly and cautiously and peered in through the window. The thick curtains separating the study from the lounge were open. Mrs Hall sat with her back to him on the sofa. Petr was sat on a dining chair facing her. There appeared to be no conversation.
‘How many?’ he whispered questioningly.
He moved again, round to the front of the house, and ducked beneath the lounge window. He rose slowly with his forefinger pressed against his lips. Mrs Hall gave a small start as Daniel’s distorted, rain-soaked face appeared at the window behind Petr. Daniel saw her reaction and ducked away.
Petr span. ‘What is it?’
‘Nothing, sorry, heartburn,’ Mrs Hall answered. ‘I always get it when I’m nervous.’
Petr sat back on the chair, drumming his fingers on his thigh.
The men returned to the room.
‘The house is clear, Petr.’
‘Good, now we just wait. Find some food and make some coffee,’ he ordered.
‘Yes, Petr,’ the men acknowledged.
‘I could make you something?’ Mrs Hall offered.
The men looked momentarily relieved.
‘No, I want you right here with me,’ Petr snapped. ‘Get some coffee,’ he ordered again, turning back to the men.
‘Yes, Petr,’ they said, moving out of the room and back down the hall to the kitchen.
Mrs Hall looked as casually as she could over Petr’s shoulder, as, with her heart in her mouth, she waited for Daniel’s face to reappear.
Once more, Daniel rose slowly beneath the window, like a crocodile raising its eyes from the water. He checked Petr’s location, then eased a little higher. Mrs Hall stared at him. Daniel stared calmly back, then slowly moved his finger from his mouth to his eyes. He pointed at each eye, then held up one questioning finger.
Mrs Hall understood. She coughed slightly and inclined her head, rubbing three fingers across her chest.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a tickly throat. Please could I have some water?’
Daniel watched the silent performance through the window.
‘You’re a star, Mrs H,’ he whispered and ducked away.
Daniel cleared the house, turned and jogged the short distance to his newly-converted barn and offices. Finding the key box, he entered the code, took the key, unlocked the door and slipped inside.
Daniel stepped into the office and grabbed the spare house keys from his desk. Dropping Coleman’s gun in the drawer, he hit the button beneath the desk and one section of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves slid away, exposing a narrow stainless steel door. He walked forward, punched the six-digit code into the electronic lock and waited for the solid metallic click before pushing the door open.
The steel-walled room was lined with gun racks and an array of high-quality, high-tech military equipment. Daniel grabbed what he needed; his own SIG-Sauer, silencer and a pair of night vision goggles, then closed and locked the doors. He slipped back out of the barn, splashing lightly across the yard toward the house.
Ducking back beneath the sitting room window, Daniel slowly raised his head. Mrs Hall was still sat on the sofa, facing the window, sipping a tall glass of water.
Daniel waited an agonising moment for her to see him.
‘That’s it, now please get this,’ he said, as her eyes opened slightly, acknowledging his presence.
Daniel pointed at Mrs Hall, then pointed upwards.
‘Come on, go upstairs, out of the way, Mrs H.’
Mrs Hall stared for a second, coughed and nodded again. She took another sip of water, then spoke to Petr.
‘I’d like to use the bathroom please,’ she said, placing her glass on the small table next to the sofa.
‘Where is it?’
‘Upstairs, but don’t worry, I’m not going to leap out of a window and run away. Where do you think an old woman like me would go?’
Petr nodded. ‘Very well, but don’t take too long.’
Mrs Hall rose to her feet, glanced once at the window, then left the room.
Daniel moved round the house, ducked beneath the kitchen window and waited.
The men in the kitchen lifted mugs and plates from the kitchen table and walked back toward the lounge, carrying their coffee and sandwiches.
Daniel slipped the key silently into the lock and turned it slowly. The door opened with the faintest of clicks. He inched it open, slipped inside, found the main fuse box and flicked the master switch off.
The house plunged into darkness.
Daniel pulled the night vision goggles over his eyes and stepped into the hall, his SIG-Sauer raised in a double-handed grip.
Two men emerged at the end of the hall.
Daniel watched, cold and detached as their bodies, bathed in shades of green light, moved slowly forward.
Daniel dropped to his knees and fired, two double taps – head and heart. Both men went down.
Suddenly, bullets sprayed down the hall. Dust and fragments exploded in the confined space as walls and doors disintegrated and a solitary bullet found its target.
Daniel rolled forward, dived into the dining room and slammed his back into the wall, leaving a brilliant red smear of blood daubed across the paintwork. He lifted his hand to his arm. It was graze, nothing more. He sat and listened. Petr was moving, stumbling up the blackened staircase.
‘Fuck,’ Daniel exclaimed.
He rolled out of the dining room, came to his feet, ran the short distance to the stairs and peered around the wall.
Petr was waiting.
A burst of bright orange flame flared from his Uzi machine pistol as he fired at the sound, ripping plaster from the walls and blasting debris down the hall.
Daniel pulled back and waited. The firing stopped. He inched forward, glanced round the corner, stepped out and fired.
Petr was gone.
Daniel listened carefully. The sound of Petr slapping in a fresh clip was followed by slow cautious footsteps. Petr was moving down the landing, searching for Mrs Hall.
Daniel reached the top of the stairs, stood still and silent, then slowly peered around the corner.
Petr was busy. He was at the second door, a door to his left – the bathroom door. He leant forward and turned the handle. The door was locked. He stepped back, fired a short controlled burst, and the handle dropped to the floor.
Mrs Hall gasped loudly as the bullets tore through the flimsy wooden barrier.
Daniel stepped round the corner.
Petr span and fired.
Daniel dropped to his knees, aimed and fired in one fluid movement.
Petr fell and thumped hard into the floor, dead.
Daniel walked slowly down the landing, stopped and listened at the door.
Mrs Hall cried softly in the bathroom.
He knocked politely.
‘Don’t forget to flush, Mrs H,’ he said with a cruel injection of humour.
Mrs Hall opened the door and fell into his arms.
‘It’s OK, Mrs H, it’s all over now.’
