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Authors: Colin Wraight

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BOOK: BlindFire
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  There were two more guards
off to the left and a third approaching from behind an outbuilding, the jerky movements from a powerful torch beam a dead giveaway.

  Very professional, thought Gunter and shook his head in disbelief. The darkness of a nearby ditch allowed him to get close to the torch man without being seen until the very last moment.

  "Andy is that you?"
T
he guard
whispered loudly
. He moved closer to the hedgerow where the ditch ended. He was sure he had heard something like a dragging noise. The Eeriness of the night got the better of him, he dre
w his pistol. "Andy please stop messing about, it’s not funny anymore."
Closer still he shone the torch in to the ditch.      

  Suddenly a hand tore out of the darkness and violently gripped him by the throat dragging him down into the ditch.

  Taking the dead mans weapon, he advanced out of the hole and down the path. There were at least two more about the place, who had to be dealt with before the others arrived.

  The Major led the way, keeping as close to the hedgerows as possible. He came to a small pile of rocks on the ground and pointed to it.

  Danny
knew immediately that this was the meeting place if they got split up or had to make a run for it. He gave the thumbs up.

  They didn't stop again until an old gate which led straight in to the courtyard. Crouching low, they both drew their weapons.

  "Its time to finish it." 
T
he Major
said
. "Forget what I said earlier, shoot anything you come across. See you later."  He slid over the gate and melted into the shadows.

  Only
twenty meters from the house Danny
had to dive down behind a rusty old pig crate as a dark shadow by the side of the building seemed to somehow take form and move freely up the side of the house.

  He
lay rigid, he didn't want to start shooting yet with Army patrols so close by. He stumbled forward as he got up, the sudden noise of the farm animals deafening. Soon he was under what he could only assume was a kitchen window.

  There was a lot of activity inside, almost party like. The odors of cooking per
meated the air; Danny
suddenly realized how hungry he really was. Slipping around to the front of the house, he wasn't surprised at all to find the driveway full of cars. He smiled as he caught sight of Gunter dragging a body off in to the woods.

  Checking the safety catch on the Spas
12
, he started to climb up a drainpipe to a half open window. Struggling through the small gap he slipped collapsing in to a bath, almost pulling down a makeshift shower curtain
in his struggle to stay upright
.

  "Shit." He spat, the pain in his leg almost unbearable.

  Approach
ing footsteps instantly silenced his wincing
, just managing to close the shower curtain as the door was pushed open and the light switched on.

  As he
silently leveled the Spas off on to the shadow cast over the shower curtain, a man blew his nose loudly
and
then it went quiet for a f
ew seconds. Danny
strained his neck to see through the gap and was horrified to see the man sat on the toilet struggling to relieve himself. Soon the smell was totally unbearable.

  "That's enough...  I can't take anymore."
Danny cried and ripped the curtain down.

  The man almost fe
ll off the toilet. "What the ..!
"

  He leveled
the
Spas 12 on the mans head and covered the trigger with his finger. "Pull that
bloody
chain before you gas us all."

 
"Who are you?"

    He
climbed out o
f the bath. "I'm here to see
McKay... Where is he?"

  "Well, he isn't here..! So you’re wasting your time!
He could already be dead by now."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "We sent
couple of guys off to
America
to finish him."

  "And?
"

  "They were supposed to report back and they haven't been heard of... Can I pull my pants up now?"

  "Certainly.
.!" Danny
s
aid, took a step forward and cracked the man across the bridge of the nose with the butt of the Spas, sending him flying in to the door. The man fell hard; smashing his head on the floor
,
blood flowed out of his nose and crept across the floor. He was unc
onscious, but still alive. Danny
really didn't have the heart to finish the job, so he just moved the body in to the bath and closed the curtains.

  The rest of the upstairs was quiet; everyone was below
enjoying some sort of party. Danny
edged his way down the wide staircase looking all the time for trouble. He hoped the man in the bath wouldn't be missed, if McKay wasn't here then it was time to go.

  The Major crawled the last ten yards to the house, his eyes scanning every possible look-out point. Now he was under a balcony with a trelliswork forming the perfect ladder. It creaked with an alarming groan
as he climbed
so he stopped half way up and had a look below for any approaching
enemy. All he could see was Danny
sprawled out behind some rusty old metal. He carried on with his climb and was soon inside the bedroom. It was dark, but he could just make out the bed and other assorted furniture.

  Like the true intelligence man that he was, he searched all the draws for any residual clues as to future intentions and current terrorist activity. The British had been watching this farm for years and everyone knew it was some sort of operations centre. He looked under the bed in one last ditch attempt to find evidence, but shook his head in disgust.

  He quickly moved to a position behind the door, as he heard a loud smash across the hallway he stood there, weapon at the ready. If there was some sort of security system in the building then the team must already have been compromised.

  He bit his lip
and gripped his pistol tight and listened hard as a door across the hall wa
s quietly opened. H
e thought
It must be Danny
and relaxed slightly. After waiting a few minutes he slipped out of the room and down the stairs.

  The noise from the party going on in the front room was deafening. He listened at the door for a second, someone was making a speech.
They were talking about history and struggles and then mentioned tyranny. He heard someone coming and fell back into the stairwell just in time to see a young man in a black waist coat carry a tray of drinks in to the room.

  Only managing a small glimpse of the interior of the party room, he guessed there were no more then twenty guests most of whom were probably the worse for drink

  There was only one thing to do, his priority targets had to be located if they were there at all. As soon as the drinks waiter came out of the room and closed the door, he was violently dragged under the stairs and knocked out.

  The Major immediately set to work removing the mans clothes. It was a tight fit, but a couple of drunken Irishmen probably wouldn't notice the difference.

  Taking the tray he went back to the door, took two deep breaths and quickly entered, not giving himself time for second thoughts.

  Not one guest gave him a second look. The room was bigger then he had at first thought and there was a lot more people sat around. There were four key men who had to be located. It took less then a second; they were all sat on the top table.

  "Hey boy. I'm calling you."

  The Major shot a glance over to the loud mouth.

"Yes I'm talking to you.... A drink sometime today would be nice..."

  The Major smiled politely and gave a nod. After collecting few empty glasses on to the tray, he left the room, put the tray on the floor and slumped against the wall.  He was just about to wipe the sweat from his brow when he
happened to look up and see Danny
half way down the stairs, with the Spas trained on him.

  "Welco
me to the party." He mouthed
.

  "McKay's not h
ere... It's time to go." Said Danny and lowered
his weapon.

  The Major shook his head. "There are four men in this room that we need to take out...."

  "
.... McKay is the target."

  He took a deep breath; it was a bit late in the day to start explaining the fundamentals of his idea. "McKay was only the weapon..... The men in this room are the triggers.... One can’t exist without the other."  He said.

  Danny
seemed to think
for ages and then sighed wearily
. "
You’d better
Point them out
  then
."

  "The tables are set up in a ‘U’ shape, like at a wedding. Our men are the only ones sat at the top."

  Danny
came down the stairs cocking the Spas. "I'll take the two on the left."

  "OK..."  The Major took another deep breath and picked up the tray of empty glasses. "Let’s do it."

  The Major went i
n first, closely followed by Danny
. Again no one noticed. Soon they were right in front of the four men who seemed happy, they
were drinking and laughing. Danny
t
hought of his poor wife and
suddenly the room se
emed to spin in slow motion. He
ripped the Spas from its hiding place below the material of his Mac. He hesitated for a second so the men would know their fate.

  As soon as he had the undivided attention of all four men he let rip, blowing a hole in the shoulder of the first man and taking the head off the second.

  The Major then fired, emptying his magazine in to both
of his targets
before their heads hit the table. Everyone else in the room was on the floor cowering under the attack.

  That is all except Charles McCaughey, who remained in his seat, silently smiling to himself. Now that his cousin was almost certainly dead along with all the other cronies he could rule uninterrupted.

  Danny
and the Major backed out of the room, covering their retreat and sprinted through the front door. A horn sounded from a nearby car, it was Gunter.

  "What took you so long?"  He asked.

  Danny
gave the Major a cold stare. "There was a slight change of plan."  He snapped.

  "Yes that's right." 
T
he Major
said
.  "McKay wasn't at hom
e so we took out the garbage
."  For some unknown reason he felt awkward
, and realized those words had sounded more than hollow. H
e
also
knew the others had spotted it. "Let’s
get
out of here before the Army set up road blocks."

  Gunter said angrily
.  "...I think we need a chat."

  "This action had to take place." 
T
he Major
snapped
.  "The future depends on it."

  Gunter and Danny
looked at each other bewildered.

  "Let’s collect Beth.... I'll explain later..."

***

 

 

  Jack McKay slumped back in the taxi, he had only been in
America
for two weeks and he wanted to go home already. He still hadn't figured out why he had been sent to stay with this fund raiser. OK, so she was a good lay but she nagged with the best of them.

  He kept getting the urge but fought it
fiercely; if
anything happened, the trail would lead straight to him
,
he knew this. For now he would have to play away and travel to other states for his addiction.

  The taxi pulled up outside the house, the driver hadn't spoken until now. "That'll be thirty two dollars... Sir.
.!
"

  As Jack reached into his pocket he noticed the splashes of blood on his coat and a single dried trickle on the back of his hand. Passing the driver the exact money, he pressed the blood to his tongue savoring the young sw
eet taste of death. She
couldn't have been more than eighteen
, Jack remembered smiling.
Sh
e was one of the easy ones, usual story of trusting a stranger.

  "You're late." A
woman
shouted from the front porch
.  "I burnt your tea."

BOOK: BlindFire
5.77Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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