Green Light (Sam Archer 7) (34 page)

Against
his better judgement he’d accepted his orders, stayed away and
Alice had died. For a man who spent his life protecting others,
he’d failed to save the person closest to him.

Focusing his blank gaze, he glanced at the digital clock on a
table to his right.
11:01pm
; eleven hours until his
hearing and almost definitely the end of his career in the
Counter-Terrorism Bureau
. When it rains,
it pours
, so the saying went; right now, it
seemed to be a monsoon.

To his
right, the bathroom door opened and April stepped out, towelling
off her hair; she wasn’t wearing make-up anymore which made her
look younger, just a normal pretty girl. She was wearing the
clothes he’d given her, a pair of Vargas’ jeans and one of her
shirts. The two women were a similar size and the garments were a
good fit; Vargas had been wearing that outfit when they’d gone out
to Long Island with Isabel six weeks ago.

‘
Better?’ he asked, forcing his mind back to the present, the
memories fading and blowing away like the sand from the beach that
day.

She
nodded. ‘Much. So where’s this safe-house?’

‘
Across town at the West Village. You’ll be safe there. Those
places are off the grid.’

‘
Will you stay?’

‘
For as long as I can. Royston won’t know I’m
there.’

There
was a brief silence.

‘
I’m sorry about your girl,’ April said. ‘She sounded like a
good person.’

She
looked down at her new clothes.

‘
I can give these back when this is over.’

Archer
shook his head and forced a smile. ‘Keep them. The jeans are a bit
tight on me.’

She
returned the smile and a silence fell.

Outside the building on 38
^th
Street, a heavy-set gang
member called Raul Ortega whistled at one of his guys, indicating
for him to go and cut off the back exit.

They’d
arrived moments earlier, the order coming from the heads of the
gang, the shot-callers in Rikers. The cop had had a green light put
on him when he was in the prison, meaning he should never have made
it out of there. Everything in the build-up had gone to plan; a
guard had been distracted to ensure the guy was alone in the shower
block, about the only place in the entire facility where there were
no cameras.

But then
it’d all gone wrong. Apparently they’d been complacent and
underestimated the cop, assuming he’d be easy meat, but he’d
managed to put a shiv into two of them and slice up the face of a
third. Ortega was pissed; one of them had been a friend of his,
who’d now have a scar across his face for the rest of his life. As
a consequence, the gang members on the outside had been ordered to
blast the cop, sending the message that no-one could mess with them
and survive.

Four of
them had just arrived, others on their way, all dressed in baggy
jeans, hooded sweatshirts and carrying pistols or sub-machine guns,
each eager to put this guy down to regain respect. As one of the
men went round to the rear of the apartment and another started to
climb up to the balcony, Ortega slid a bump key into the lock on
the door to the entrance, then tapped it gently with the underside
of his machine pistol, jacking it open.

He
stepped inside the building, securing the lock to stop it closing.
Pulling the cocking handle on his Uzi, he racked a round, thirty
two of them in the magazine and one now in the chamber.

Then he
started to climb the stairs.

April
was in Archer’s bedroom, putting her few belongings into a brown
Trader Joe’s bag. Next door in the kitchen, Archer was tucking some
foodstuffs and bottles of water into a holdall, distracted and
working on autopilot.

Closing
the cupboard, he zipped up the bag and hooked the strap over his
shoulder, ready to go. Remembering his bulletproof vest, he headed
towards the sitting area where it was resting on the couch;
considering how today had been going, it would be foolish not to
strap it on again.

But he
stopped in his tracks. The apartment was so quiet he heard a sound
so faint it was almost imperceptible, one he would have missed if
there had been any other noise at all.

Swinging
round and forgetting about the vest, he looked for the source and
found it.

His eyes
focused on the door handle.

It was
the sound of a key being slid very slowly into the front
lock.

Then there was a
click.

Hitting the key with the butt of his weapon, Ortega twisted
the handle a split-second later and kicked the door back with
a
thump
.

Moving
inside, he raised his sub-machine gun as he and one of his men
who’d followed him up the stairs moved into the apartment, the two
men sweeping left and right, their fingers on the
triggers.

Behind
the kitchen counter, having ducked down a split-second before the
door was kicked open, Archer cursed to himself, realising he was
unarmed, his Sig confiscated and his home defence gun hidden in the
bathroom.

Knowing
he only had seconds before whoever it was found him, he edged
around the counter that ran between the hallway and kitchen and saw
two men reflected in the balcony window, each heavily built and
each holding an Uzi.

Shit, shit, shit!

Thinking
fast, he silently eased open a drawer next to him, inch by painful
inch, praying it wouldn’t make any noise and watching the two men’s
reflections as they separated and started to check the
apartment.

He
reached in carefully for anything in the drawer he could use as a
weapon. He touched the handle of a small, sharp-bladed knife;
curling his fingers around it he quietly pulled it out. He hated
knives both to use and being used against him, but right now it was
either that or a fish slice.

Staying
low, he saw the man nearest to him was about to round the corner of
the unit he was hiding behind.

He
tensed, ready to spring.

But then
April opened the bedroom door down the corridor.

Watching
their reflections in the window, he saw the two men swing round,
aiming their weapons straight at her as she dropped her bag of
clothes.

‘
Hey!’
Archer shouted, rearing
up.

Taken by
surprise, the two men twisted back round just as the Archer leapt
over the counter and buried the knife in the chest of the guy
closest to him.

As the
man shouted in pain and his partner raised his Uzi, Archer shoved
the man he’d stabbed into the other guy then dove back behind the
counter as the uninjured guy pulled the trigger.

The
assault from the weapon was both sudden and extremely violent,
wood, plastic and brick ripped to shreds as he fired wildly.
However, the guy made the classic mistake with an automatic weapon,
draining the clip with just one pull in his desperation to score a
hit.

As soon
as the deafening fire stopped, Archer ignored the ringing in his
ears and grabbed his opportunity, hurdling the counter once again
and smashing into the guy just as he reloaded and cocked the gun.
Archer caught hold of the man’s arms, driving them up but avoiding
touching the weapon to save his hands from being burned.

‘
Pendejo!’
the guy snarled, before
pulling the trigger again, the rounds hitting the
ceiling.

Head-butting him, Archer pushed the gun round while holding
the man’s finger down on the trigger. The gunman took a burst,
dropping as if his strings had been cut, the gun falling from his
grasp as he hit the ground and joined his companion, both men
dead.

With every sense on high alert, Archer kicked the front door
shut, then swiftly bent down and retrieved one of the dead guys’
Uzis, the gun powder in the air filling his nostrils and stinging
his eyes. Both were brown-skinned men Archer had never seen before,
gang members, one with four teardrops tattooed on his face, two
under each eye, and the other with inking all over his neck.
Not
Prizraki
Russians, and definitely not Henderson or Tully.

The same
inking as his attackers in Rikers.

His
hearing gradually starting to return after the gunfire, Archer
looked down the corridor at April to make sure she was
OK.

But she
wasn’t looking at him.

Alerted
by the expression on her face, he spun round to see a Latino guy in
jeans and a hoodie on the balcony, raising a shotgun from the other
side of the glass and aiming it directly at him.

‘
Move!’
Archer shouted.

As he
ducked back into the kitchen and April threw herself into Isabel’s
bedroom, the shotgun blast annihilated the balcony glass and
Archer’s bedroom door, the guy racking the pump to load another
shell. Leaning around the damaged counter, Archer fired a quick
burst back, his aim far better and more controlled than the dead
gang-member’s; the rounds clipped the gunman in the shoulder and
knocked him to the ground, the guy dragging himself out of sight
before Archer could fire again.

As
Archer went to move forward after him, the front door suddenly
slammed back and a heavily-built Latino guy smashed into the
apartment. Archer spun and pulled the trigger but the weapon
clicked dry; hurling it at the gunman which bought him a precious
second, he launched himself forward, knocking the larger man off
balance.

The guy
fired his handgun, ripping up the wall while trying to turn the gun
on Archer, but Archer hit him hard, using all his strength to slam
the man’s hand into the wall and knock the gun free, sending it
skittering across the floor. Terrified, April peered out from
Isabel’s bedroom and gasped in horror as Archer’s attacker
retaliated by slamming him into the wall with brutal force. As they
smashed into the kitchen, Archer realised he was in trouble.
Adrenaline had kicked in, giving his exhausted muscles survival
strength, but this guy was far stronger than him and was just as
pumped up.

Ducking
under an arcing elbow that would have knocked him out, Archer fired
a vicious left hook to the man’s body, a liver shot. Done right, it
completely incapacitates an opponent, causing their body to shut
down, rendering them incapable until they could breathe again.
However, the guy had spare ammo magazines in his pocket, which not
only protected him from the blow but smashed Archer’s knuckles as
he threw the punch.

As he
instinctively recoiled in pain, the man sunk in a crushingly
powerful rear choke, tightening the squeeze around Archer’s neck.
Archer desperately tried to fight his way out of it, clutching at
the enormous forearm locked under his chin, fighting to loosen the
hold and feeling the squeeze tighten so hard it felt as if his neck
was going to break.

Seeing
Archer caught in the choke-hold, April darted forward and picked up
his attacker’s pistol. Straightening, she aimed the weapon at the
two men, her hand shaking.

However,
she couldn’t pull the trigger; Archer was in direct line of fire,
the bigger man behind him as he strangled the blond cop.

About to
pass out, Archer frantically motioned with his hand to
April.

Realising what he wanted she threw the gun towards him, which
he caught grip first.

A beat
later he put the barrel to the gang member’s thigh and
fired.

A
distance shot from a 9mm handgun would produce a severe injury but
up close it was catastrophic. The giant screamed like a stuck pig,
instantly releasing Archer and falling to the floor, clutching his
leg as he started to bleed out, staring in shock at the blood
pumping from the wound.

Staggering forward as he sucked in oxygen, Archer stood for a
few moments waiting for the room to stop spinning then moved
towards April, the sudden quiet filled by the sounds of dogs
barking from down the street, the stench of gun-smoke and cordite
hanging in the air.

‘
We have to get the hell out of here!’ he said, taking her hand
and pulling her towards the front door, blood running down his arm
from the re-opened wound.

However,
before they could make it something was thrown into the room from
the balcony.

It came
through the smashed gap where the window used to be and rolled
straight towards them.

As April
stared in scared puzzlement, Archer’s eyes widened.

He
immediately dragged her into the bathroom, shoving her into the tub
and throwing himself on top of her just as the grenade came to a
stop in the hallway.

A beat
later the explosion was so loud it seemed to shake the entire
world, blowing out every piece of glass in the apartment, setting
parts of it on fire.

The
wounded gang member moved cautiously through the blown-apart space
where the balcony glass used to be, looking down the sights of his
weapon and treading carefully through the smoke, looking for his
targets and seeing three of his friends down, two dead and the
third bleeding out on the kitchen floor.