Gray Redemption (Tom Gray #3) (17 page)

“Why don’t we just come with
you?”  Baker persisted.

“Because if
they somehow manage to get away, they’ll do so by car.
  They’ve got
women and a child with them, so they’re not going to make a dash for it across
the fields.  I’ve left the keys in mine, so if you don’t hear from us
within ten minutes, seal the entrance and do what you have to.”

“You mean clean up your mess,”
Baker sneered, and Hamilton was tempted to wipe the smile off his face. 
In-fighting, however, wasn’t going to get the job done.

“I told you to bring the van for
just this reason,” Hamilton said as calmly as he could.  “These guys know
their stuff, so don’t underestimate them.  I’m not, and nor should you.”

Baker looked for signs of
nervousness but saw none.  Hamilton was simply stating an opinion, not
making excuses.  “If we don’t make it, get them in the van and dispose of
them.”

Baker perked up at the thought
of some action if it all went to shit.

“Comms check. 
Alpha one.”

“Delta one,” Baker replied.

“Alpha two.”

“Delta two.”

“Farrar.  Are you in
position?”

“Setting off now,” Hamilton told
him, and with a final gesture for Baker to stay put, he jogged off down the
road, Dougherty in tow.

“How long is this going to take?” 
Farrar asked.  “I plan on sleeping tonight.”

“It should all be over in ten
minutes,” Hamilton told him, as his eyes swept the side of the road for the
entrance to the adjacent field.  He saw it a hundred yards from the
vehicles and led Dougherty over the gate and into the darkness.

A minute later he reached the
hedge enclosing the camp and heard Farrar’s voice in his ear.

“Where are you now, Todd?”

Hamilton replied with three
clicks of the throat mic and continued onwards, bending at the waist to stay
below the top of the hedge.

“Todd, talk to me.”

“He’s gone silent,” Baker
interjected.  “He’s near the target and can’t talk.”

“So how come you can? 
Where are you?”

“I’m three hundred yards away
guarding the vehicles.”

“What the hell for?  Why
aren’t you in there getting the job done?”

“Todd’s taken charge of the
operation,” Baker said, ensuring his frustration was noted.  “He had it
planned out before we even got here and doesn’t want me to go along.  He’s
taken Dougherty, that’s it.”

Farrar went silent, and Baker
knew from experience that this was usually the calm before the storm.  He
was proven correct moments later.

“You get in there and make sure
this job is finished in the next few minutes,” Farrar snarled. 

Two more clicks came over the
air.  “That’ll be a No from Todd,” Baker explained, “and I agree.  If
he can’t pull it off, we have a backup plan.”

One that Baker
was looking forward to.
 

Hamilton’s idea, even though it
had been thrown together at the last minute, was sound on paper.  If the
targets were asleep, if Todd didn’t wake them as he activated his device, and
if the gas worked as expected, then it would be job done.  However, it
didn’t have the hands-on aspect that Baker really enjoyed.  Given the
nature of their work, it wasn’t often that he got to look his victims in the
eye as he brought their lives to an end, and so he was glad that the next few
minutes held so many imponderables.

“I’ll leave that call to you,
Matt,” Farrar eventually said, “but I want this finished tonight.”

Baker looked at his watch. 
“You’ve got seven minutes, Todd.”

Seven minutes, and then Baker
would know if the mission was over or it was time to have some fun.

*
* *

Campbell hit the Accept button
the second the phone in his hand vibrated.

“Movement,” said the whispered
voice.  “Coming from the west, looks like two.”

Campbell looked up the road in
the direction Levine had given, but saw nothing.  Whoever was heading
towards Carl must have transport nearby, though.

“Clear here.  I’ll head in that
direction and see if I can spot their vehicle.”

There was no objection from
Levine, so Campbell rose slowly and made his way towards the gate, pulling off
his waterproof jacket as he went.  It had served its purpose, and he
didn’t want to be sneaking up on someone wearing a coat that rustled every time
he took a step.

There was no sign of anyone in
the immediate area and he dashed past the entrance to the field, choosing to
remain inside rather than expose himself out on the road.  He stopped
every fifteen yards and had a look through the bottom of the hedge to see if he
could spot anything, but all the night had to offer was darkness and the usual
hoots and screeches as animals went about their nocturnal activities.

Campbell crossed into the
adjoining field, taking care to find a gap big enough that it wouldn’t create a
lot of noise as he squeezed through.  As he traversed the edge he kept
stopping, hoping to see a sign of life or hear a sound to indicate that he was
getting close, but it wasn’t until he crossed into the third field and rounded
a bend in the road that he came across a likely looking pair.

 The vehicles were parked
up on the grass verge and two men were behind the Transit van, one of them
looking cold and bored with his arms wrapped close to his body.  The other
looked more focused, leaning against the bonnet of the Ford saloon as he
stroked the silenced pistol in his right hand.  Every few moments he would
glance at his watch, and then look in the direction of the camp. 

“I’ve got a car and a van, about
two hundred yards from you.  I see two x-rays, one definitely armed. 
There could be more in the van, though.”

Campbell waited for a reply, and
when none came he knew the two men Carl had heard were most probably too close
for him to talk. 

“I’m going to get round in front
of them,” Campbell said quietly.  “If they make a move, I’ll stop them.”

He slowly backtracked until he
could no longer see his targets, then found a small gap in the hedge and
squeezed through before dashing across the road.  He cautiously made his
way back towards the vehicles and stopped when the right-hand front wing of the
Transit van was in view.  

All he had to do now was await a
signal from Levine.

It came moments later.

*
* *

Carl Levine watched as the first
pair of feet landed silently a few feet from the car he was sheltering
under.  Seconds later another person climbed over the style, and both men
made their way towards the target caravan.  Levine watched as one of them
expertly attacked the lock, and now that he knew they weren’t just fellow
campers returning from a night out, he edged out from underneath the car. 
As he did so, he saw the caravan door open and one of the men placed something
inside, closing the door almost immediately.

The men had a quick look around
and then started walking back towards the style, but their progress was halted
as Levine suddenly appeared in front of them, gesturing with his pistol that
they should reach for the skies.  Both men did as
instructed,
shocked at the sight of the man they were supposed to kill standing just yards
away. 

Levine pointed the pistol at
Hamilton and made a gesture with his left arm.  Hamilton understood, and
slowly unzipped his jacket, revealing a silenced Beretta in a shoulder
holster.  With another couple of signed instructions, Hamilton got the
message to take the gun out with two fingers and toss it towards Levine.

Dougherty followed suit, his
agitation showing as his glance shifted from Hamilton to the caravan, and
Levine realised that they weren’t comfortable being so close to the scene of
their crime.  They certainly hadn’t come to deliver pizza, so whatever
they had shoved inside the caravan had to be some kind of explosive device.
 He quickly gathered up the guns and after checking there was a round in
the chamber of the silenced pistol he adopted it as his own, pushing his own
weapon and the spare pistol into the waistband of his jeans.

“Move!”
 
He hissed, indicating towards the style, and as the men walked he took up
position behind them, grabbing Hamilton by the collar and placing the
suppressor into the base of his skull.

“How many, and where?”

Hamilton hesitated for a few
seconds, trying to decide whether to bluff or fold.  “
There’s
a dozen of us,” he lied.  “The rest are waiting in reserve just down the
road.  There’s no way out.”

Levine cuffed him around the ear
with the gun.  “Try again, and remember I’ve got another pair of eyes out
there.”

“Four,” Hamilton said, his ear
still ringing from the blow.

“I’ve got two secure,” Levine
said softly into his hands-free mic. 
“Bringing them out
now.
  Looks like four in total.”  He heard a faint “Roger” in
reply, and a glance at Hamilton’s left ear confirmed that the man had his own
comms. 

“Tell your buddies you’re
pulling back,” Levine said, “and don’t even think about trying to warn them.”

Hamilton slowly moved his hand
to his throat mic and clicked it on.  “The Semtex is in place.  We’re
on our way back.”

“Semtex, eh?
 
You guys weren’t planning on taking any prisoners, were you?”

Hamilton ignored the rhetorical
question and followed Dougherty over the style, hoping Baker had understood the
message.  His colleague wasn’t the brightest man on the planet, but surely
he could spot a warning signal.

“How long
until it blows?”
  Levine asked, and Hamilton told him they had
little under a minute to get clear.  He was about to tell them to pick up
the pace when Campbell’s voice came over the earpiece.

“Something’s spooked these
two.  They’re heading your way and not hanging around.”

Levine jerked Hamilton to a halt
and shifted his aim.  A single round spat from the gun and Dougherty
dropped to the floor before he could make a sound, a small hole on his temple
marking the entry point.

“You came here to kill not only
me, but my family, too,” Levine said, the gun once again pressed against
Hamilton’s skull.  “Don’t think I’ll hesitate to kill you.”

There was a barely perceptible
nod in reply, and Levine pulled his prisoner over to the side of the field and
forced him down onto his knees.  Levine got down on one knee a couple of
yards behind him, pistol up and searching for targets.

He didn’t have to wait long.

The first figure appeared in his
sights just as the explosion lit up the sky off to his left, and it caught
Levine off guard for just a second.  That was long enough for Hamilton to
grab the stone near his left leg and he spun, throwing the projectile as he
turned.  Levine saw it a split second before it hit, catching him on the
bridge of the nose before he could swing the gun around.  Hamilton was up
instantly, kicking the gun hand away before landing a blow to Levine’s head
which sent him sprawling backwards.  The air was knocked out of him as
Hamilton landed on his chest with both knees, grabbing for the weapon in Levine’s
right hand.  He resisted as much as he could, aiming punches at his
assailant’s kidneys with his left hand, but Hamilton ignored the blows. 
He pinned Levine’s right arm to the ground and began pummelling his shoulder,
hoping to dislocate it.  After three attempts there was a satisfying crack
and a howl from Levine. 

Hamilton picked up the pistol
that had fallen from Levine’s grasp, and he placed it against Levine’s chest
while he retrieved the other two weapons from his waistband.  He turned
when he heard footsteps from behind and saw his colleagues approaching.

“Campbell’s out there
somewhere!”  He told them.

“What happened to Paul?” 
Hill asked, standing over Dougherty’s body.

“Levine killed him.  Now go
find Campbell!”

“Let’s get this one in the van,”
Baker said, “then we can all look for him.”

Hamilton didn’t see the point in
all three escorting the prisoner to the van, especially in his current
state.  “I’ll deal with Levine,” he said.  “You take care of the
other one, and make it quick.  We’ll have to come back for Paul’s body.”

Baker didn’t like the fact that
Hamilton was still giving the orders despite his plan having gone to shit, but
the prospect of spending a few minutes alone with Levine spurred him on. 
He and Hill retreated the way they’d come, weapons up in search of
movement.  They soon disappeared from view, and Hamilton ordered Levine to
his feet.

“Fuck you!”

“I’ll count to three,” Hamilton
said.

“Don’t bother, just give me the
bad news.”

Hamilton was sorely tempted, but
he needed to know where their spouses were, a fact not lost on Levine.

“There’s no way in hell I’m
giving up my family,” he said as he got up onto one knee, all the time cradling
his useless right arm.  Looking up at Hamilton, he let his left arm drop
to his side.

“Do it,” he said, focusing his
eyes on the gun pointing towards his head.

The park was now fully awake,
with people shouting and several children screaming.  An adjacent caravan,
showered in flaming debris from the initial blast, began to burn, adding to the
intensity as the fire crept higher into the night sky. 

It was only a matter of time
before the emergency services arrived, and Hamilton wanted to be clear of the
area before that happened. 

“Come on, you stubborn
bastard...”  He grabbed for Levine’s collar, and the knife came up with
such ferocity that he didn’t even have time to register shock before it plunged
into his throat and exited through the back of his neck, severing the spinal
column on the way.