‘OK,’ Archer said, confused, not sure where this was going.

  ‘Marija told the two girls that something came for the family. She told them that because the family were so cruel a monster came in the middle of the night and took them away, and no one ever saw them again. She said the beast had a name, called the Crno Kuguar. The Black Panther, in English.’

  Archer frowned, touching the cut again over his eye.

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘After Marija shut the kid’s bedroom door, we went downstairs to get a drink and I told her I’d overheard her story. I didn’t grow up in Serbia so had never heard it before. I asked her if it was a famous old tale or something she made up.’

  She paused.

  ‘Then she told me it was actually true.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, not the monsters thing. But I swear to you, as Marija swore to me, that during the war people just went missing from all over the area, in the town and in the surrounding countryside. She assured me that the family she spoke of had existed, and all four of them had vanished. Rumours had spread about who was responsible for these disappearances. She told me it was a KLA Special Forces Unit called the Black Panthers.’

  ‘They stole people?’

  ‘That’s what everyone there still thinks, even the adults. No one ever found out what had happened to those who disappeared. But not a single one was ever seen again. Rumour had it the Panthers were arrested and put on trial in Belgrade after the war. And after that happened, no more people went missing.’

  ‘That’s right. That’s what we were told.’

  ‘So the story was actually based on reality. It scared kids into behaving because of that. And Marija told me that no one ever knew what had happened to the Black Panthers. Like their victims, they just disappeared too.’

  ‘Not anymore,’ Archer said.

  She paused.

  ‘Whoa, wait a minute,’ she said. ‘Are you telling me these are the men who attacked your station?’

  ‘Yes. They’re trying to kill my boss.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I can’t say.’

  ‘Jesus Christ, Sam. These men are the stuff of nightmares in Serbia.’

  Archer went to reply, but he heard a whistle from behind him. He turned and saw Chalky in the doorway of the lower corridor, gesturing at him to join him.

  ‘I need to go.’

  ‘Archer, listen to me,’ she said. ‘There’s a lot of bullshit back home surrounding these men, but somewhere the myths mix with the truth. To this day, grown men in Priboj are scared shitless at the mention of the Panthers. Be careful.’

  Archer nodded.

  ‘Is there anything else you can tell me about them?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘They must have been desperate to kill your boss.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘They attacked during the day. That’s very unlike them. That’s the opposite of the fable, in fact.’

  ‘Why was it unlike them?’

  She paused. He looked out of the windows of the police station at the setting sun.

  ‘Because they come for you at night.’

  TWENTY THREE

  'They'll have taken him back to their police station,' Worm said, in Albanian, as the group of soldiers gathered at the command post. 'I recognised their uniforms. Each man had lettering on the back of his vest. ARU. The same Unit that Grub and Crow attacked.'

  In the dark room, illuminated only by the glare of the two televisions, Bug, Bird and Spider listened closely.

  'You know where this place is?' Spider asked, also speaking in their native tongue. When they had set-up the operation, Spider had been in charge of the US-based foursome and was unfamiliar with locations this side of the Atlantic. Worm nodded.

  'Yes sir. But I also have good news. I followed Cobb and Jackson and the officers earlier. They arrived at some kind of hospital. I couldn't follow them inside, but moved around the building into the garden and saw them before they shut the curtains. I saw who was in the bed.'

  He paused.

  'Corporal Simon Fletcher.'

  The men looked at each other. Bug hawked and spat on the floor.

  'Son of a bitch,' Bird muttered.

  ‘That is good news,' Spider said to Worm, nodding.

  Silence followed. His piece said, Worm looked over at Spider. With their commander gone, Spider was the new man in command, but the men had just as much faith in him as they did in their commanding officer. Spider was the kind of lieutenant that would never challenge for the top position, loyal, willing to die to save his leader. The perfect right hand man, and a good soldier in his own right.

  'OK,' he said, in Albanian. 'We arm up, then go to this police station. We take back our leader, and kill anyone who gets in the way. Then we go to the airport, pick up Flea, then head to the hospital and kill Fletcher. You said there is a long garden outside this man's room?'

  'Yes, sir,' Worm said.

  'Good. Flea can take him with the rifle. We won't need to move inside.'

  'What about Cobb and Jackson, sir?' Bird asked.

  'They won't still be at the station surely,' Bug said. 'Only a pair of fools would still be there.'

  'So what do we do?' Bird asked.

  Spider smiled in the darkness.

  'Never underestimate human stupidity. We take a good look and see if they are there. And if they aren't, we'll get one of the other policemen to tell us where they are.'

  *

  At the ARU's headquarters, the atmosphere on the lower level of the building was one of both apprehension and excitement. The capture of the soldier felt like a big victory, even though they all knew there were five more of these men still out there. After Fletcher’s warnings about the squad and their aura of being Special Forces, the wattage of their perceived invincibility had been dimmed slightly. With one of them in handcuffs, it was physical proof to the team that these men were mortal, the same as the rest of them, and that they could be subdued and arrested like anyone else. The captive had been placed inside one of the interrogation cells, alone. The room was simple, two chairs either side of a desk. The lights in the room were bare and bright, throwing harsh light into every corner and over the soldier in the centre of the room.

  The ARU was a squad that dealt with terrorists and hardened criminals on a regular basis, so they were used to dealing with some of the toughest and most violent men out there. But they had never encountered a Special Forces commander like this before. Staring straight ahead, arms bound behind him by Chalky’s plasti-cuffs, the man cast a hulking, intimidating figure. He hadn't said a word since he got captured, but just by sitting there his sheer physical presence emanated danger.

  No officer or detective had gone in to interrogate him yet. Time was on their side. Cobb was at the safe house, Jackson was here and Fletcher was being guarded at the hospice, all protected and prepared. Porter had ordered that they wait, so they’d left the Panther in the cell for over an hour. The man in the interrogation room and his team had enjoyed the element of surprise when killing their seven victims so far. That wouldn't happen again.

  With Cobb gone for the time being, Porter had assumed leadership of the squad. He was standing outside the cell in a dark viewing room, alongside the rest of First Team and Agent Jackson, who had come downstairs after they had first brought the captive in. Down the corridor, Deakins and Second Team were still guarding the building, both front and rear entrances, but each officer was still wearing his throat mic so they could all communicate at a moment's notice.

  In the room adjacent to the holding cell, shielded behind a one-way mirror, Porter pulled his mobile phone from its home on his left collarbone and pushed Cobb's number as the other men examined the Panther through the glass. The phone rang once, and was answered.

  ‘Port?’ Cobb said.

  'Evening sir,' Porter said, turning to one side. 'I have some news.'

  'Talk to me.'

  I'm afraid it’s both good and bad. We captured one of the Panthers. He's in one of the interrogation cells right now. We think he might be the leader.'

  Pause.

  'The bad?'

  'We didn't get to McCarthy in time. They killed him.'

  ‘Shit. How?'

  'Bazooka attack. Hit his car in the street.'

  Pause.

  'Is everything over there secure?' Porter asked.

  Silence. Cobb didn't respond, and the connection went fuzzy.

  'Sir?' he repeated.

  'Sorry,' Cobb's voice said, the line cutting in and out. 'The connection is bad. We’re almost at the house. My in-laws are away, so we have the place to ourselves. Blessing in disguise.'

  Pause.

  'We need to get this man talking. Find out where the rest of his team are. Who’s going to lead the interrogation?'

  'I was thinking Fox or Archer, sir. Since Frost retired, those two have taken the brunt of it. They're both pretty solid.'

  'OK. If one of them can't get through, use the other. But tell them to stay on their guard. We know how dangerous this man is. And keep me posted. How’s Agent Jackson?'

  Porter glanced at the American, who had his back turned, watching the captive closely through the glass.

  'He's fine, sir.'

  'OK. Keep me in the loop.'

  The call ended. Porter turned to Jackson and the rest of First Team, who were standing there in a line watching the soldier, like a jury.

  'Cobb's almost there,' Porter told them.

  Jackson nodded. 'Good.'

  Porter looked over at Archer. 'Ready for some face-time?'

  Archer nodded, feeling the cut over his eye from the head-butt the soldier gave him. He’d had a headache ever since.

  'Let's do it.'

  TWENTY FOUR

  The Special Forces soldier didn't react when Archer entered the room.

  It was totally silent in there, the lights glaring down from the roof-light, bright and quiet. Archer closed the door with a click that echoed around the room. He had no folder in his hands. There was no tape recorder on the table between him and the soldier. The recording equipment was rigged up in the room already and every word was recorded from outside. Normally, in interrogations such as these, the handcuffs on the prisoner would be off already, but this time they were definitely staying on.

  Archer moved forward, taking the empty chair across from the man.

  A long silence followed. The lights in the room were stark and unforgiving, and they gave Archer an opportunity to fully examine the soldier in front of him up close. His physical presence was intimidating. He was wearing black combat overalls and black boots, and the seams of the clothing were tight around his shoulders and arms as his hands were pulled back behind him from the cuffs. He was built like a doorframe. His hair was dark and ruffled from the balaclava, and he had rough stubble on his chin and cheeks.

  'What's your name?' Archer asked him.

  The man looked at him.

  His face was strong and hard, chiselled from stone, dark eyebrows.

  He had dark, blue, unemotional eyes, as cold as Arctic frost, and they settled on Archer's face.

  'In English, my name would be Wulf,' the man said, his Eastern European accent strong, his voice deep.

  'Is that your real name?'

  The soldier paused.

  'You mean the name my parents gave me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘No.'

  Pause.

  'You and your team have killed seven men today. I saw you kill McCarthy. That's a life sentence in prison.'

  He paused.

  'But you guys also murdered people in the US. Former soldiers. Unlike us, the Americans still have the death penalty. They'll push for extradition. Then the lethal injection. For you and all your friends.'

  'Where is the man called Cobb?' Wulf asked, ignoring him.

  'He's here. He's outside, watching.'

  'You're lying. Only a fool would stay here.'

  Pause.

  Wulf’s eyes examined Archer’s face, and his expression.

  'You think you've won, don't you, young man?'

  'Sure feels that way, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Does it?’

  ‘Take a good look around you.'

  Wulf smiled.

  It was unnerving.

  'You haven't won. Everyone in this building is going to die.'

  'That seems pretty unlikely right now.’ Pause. ‘Besides, what did we ever do to you?'

  ‘You got in the way.’

  Pause.

  'Where are the rest of your friends?' Archer asked him.

  'Where is Cobb?' Wulf asked back.

  'You're in no position to ask questions.'

  'Yes, I am. You should respect me, boy. You are just a police officer. Someone like you wouldn't last an hour in our life.'

  'Is that so?'

  Wulf looked at him, his blue eyes almost freezing over with frosty contempt. 'Look at you. You are soft and weak. You live in comfort. My parents died when I was a child. I killed my first man when I was eleven. I spent fifteen years in a prison where you wouldn’t survive one night. And you think you can beat me?'

  He laughed, filling the silence.

  It was harsh and deep, and echoed around the room.

  'I'm going to kill you. All of you. Then I will execute Cobb. Wherever he is, wherever he is hiding, I will find him.'

  Pause.

  The room was silent.

  'Cobb had nothing to do with what happened.'

  'He freed the men who did it. That makes him guilty.'

  'It wasn't his fault. He didn't know what those men did.'

  'He should have left them to die. But he gave them freedom. And they put me and my men in jail. They murder our families and we are the ones who are punished for it.'

  'Move on. You can’t change the past.'

  'They shot both my children in the head. They were twins. Three years old. A boy and a girl. My wife was shot as she tried to protect them.'

  'I'm sorry. But move on. Cobb didn’t pull the trigger.'

  ‘Tell me where he is.'

  Pause.

  ‘Why did the KLA expel you?’

  The man looked at him. Said nothing.

  ‘They abandoned you. And I think your men have abandoned you too. You’re all alone.’

  Wulf went to reply, but suddenly, the room went dark.

  The lights had cut out.

  As Archer looked around in the sudden blackness, confused, he heard that laugh again, deep and threatening, rumbling around the pitch black like distant thunder.

  'They're coming,' Wulf said. 'You're going to die, young man.'

  'What the hell was that?' Deakins said, out by the reception desk.

  He was with two other members of Second Team, all three standing in the darkness, their visibility slightly better than down the corridor due to the lights from the streets outside. A few moments later, Agent Jackson and Porter appeared through the door from the corridor, both of them looking anxious.

  'Power cut?' Porter asked.

  'No, it-'

  But before Deakins could respond, there was a smash of glass. Beside Porter, Jackson was thumped backwards, blood sprayed all over the wall and onto Deakins and Porter, as the CIA agent took a bullet in the neck.

  He fell back, collapsing on the ground.

  'Shit!' Deakins shouted.

  The whole team crouched low and took cover, hustling fast through the doors back into the dark corridor of the holding cells. Porter grabbed Jackson's collar, pulling him into the corridor, blood smearing on the ground under the wounded man as Porter dragged him behind the cover of the door. Jackson was clutching at the wound, his eyes wide with shock and fear, and blood pulsed out of him through his fingers, already soaking the top of his shirt and suit jacket and leaving a stained crimson trail on the white floor.

  'C'mon Port!' Deakins shouted, helping him with Jackson.

  There was a thump and a kick of plaster as another bullet hit the wall by Porter's head and he fell back into the corridor with Jackson, Deakins locking the door. Heaving Jackson over his shoulder, Porter and Deakins hustled down the corridor, towards their team-mates, most of whom were standing in the corridor, confused.

  'Get back!' they shouted.

  And behind them, the door suddenly exploded, as it took a rocket from a bazooka head on.

  The force of the blast smashed it off its hinges and the twisted frame flew down the corridor, coming to rest in a smoking dented heap on the floor. The officers had their MP5s to hand but were forced to scatter for cover, ducking into holding and interrogation cells as automatic gunfire suddenly erupted down the corridor from the far end, the silhouettes of three men lit up in the smoke and streetlights, muzzle flashes of automatic weapons lighting up the smoky darkness. Moving out into the corridor from the viewing room of the interrogation cell, his MP5 in his hands, Chalky crouched low and tried to take a closer look at who was coming.

  Three men, dressed in black fatigues, and they each had a Kalashnikov rifle in their hands.

  Chalky and Fox started to fire back, but the three men had the corridor and they unloaded with the AK-47s, pinning the team further and further back, the air filled with the brutal flash and echo of automatic gunfire, bullets tearing into the corridors and smashing windows. Chalky and Fox were forced to retreat, bullets smashing into the walls and glass panels on doors.

  Back inside the interrogation room, Archer turned in the darkness to try and locate Wulf.

  He heard the sudden scrape of a chair as the man moved and then something smashed into the back of his head.

  As Bird and Bug kept the rate of fire up in the corridor, Spider pushed open the door and moved inside. Wulf was in there, standing over an unconscious Archer. The man raised his weapon at the officer's head, but Wulf shouted No in Albanian. Cobb, he mouthed afterwards, tapping his temple. He turned, laying his hands on the table behind him, and his lieutenant pulled a knife and cut through the plasti-cuffs.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25