Hard Knocks (10 page)

Right from the first moment I’d seen him I’d known that Sean Meyer was a danger to me. I was one of only three women who’d fought their way through selection to make it onto the Special Forces course. Sean, like the rest of the instructors, seemed to instantly zero in on the three of us as the candidates mostly likely to be the first drop-outs. There was nothing natural about the means of their selection.

“Well, with being back in a military atmosphere, I suppose,” he said now, careful. “I wasn’t sure how you’d react.”

“So why did you send me?”

“I didn’t send you, Charlie,” he said, and there was no mistaking the mild reproof. “I asked you to go.”

Same difference
, I thought. “So why didn’t you ask Madeleine instead,” I snapped. “I’m sure she would have coped just fine. If you’re worried I can’t hack it out here, Sean, tell me now.”

He sighed. “I know you can cope, Charlie,” he said, ignoring my latest dig about Madeleine, as he always seemed to do. I wondered if that was why I kept making them. “I’m just worried about what it’s costing you. I can imagine how difficult it must be for you, that’s all. Pretending, holding back. I think that’s the part I’d find hard. I don’t like deceit.”

I stiffened, as though he was talking on another level. As though he’d guessed that I hadn’t told him the truth about Kirk and what had happened before I’d left the army.

I searched for the right words to begin to tell him, but they wouldn’t come. It really wasn’t the kind of thing you could do over the phone. Mind you, I didn’t think I’d have the bottle to tell him face to face, either. Stalemate.

The silence hummed along the wires between us.

At last, he said, “Yesterday you asked about the Heidi Krauss kidnap.”

“Yes,” I said, realising almost with relief that I’d missed my chance.

“Madeleine’s been doing some digging. Apparently Heidi isn’t the first to have been taken. There have been six abductions in the last year that match the same pattern. Snatched by a small but heavily armed group who aren’t afraid to shoot first and ask questions later. They’ve left a trail of bodies halfway across Europe.”

“Elsa said the housekeeper and one of the bodyguards was killed in the raid,” I agreed. I glanced up. The wind was sending clouds rushing past the face of the moon, making the light level rise and fall across the roof like a swinging lantern.

“It isn’t just bystanders.” I could feel rather than see Sean shaking his head. “According to my source, four of the victims turned up dead as well, regardless of whether the ransoms were paid or not.” He paused. “Not encouraging odds as far as the Krauss girl is concerned.”

“So why did Gilby’s bunch go off at the deep end when Elsa brought the subject up?” I wondered aloud.

“That’s not a difficult one,” Sean said. “The bodyguard who died was one of his former pupils. So was the lad who lost a leg.”

“Nasty.” Hardly surprising that the Major had reacted like someone had just jabbed him with a cattle prod. I wondered if Elsa knew the connection when she prepared her little speech and, if so, what she’d hoped to gain from it. I made a mental note to ask her the first chance I got.

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you get shot with a hollowpoint,” Sean said. “It tends to do a lot of damage.”

“Just like Kirk. Is there a connection, or are hollowpoints just this year’s dumdum fashion accessory?”

I heard the smile in Sean’s voice. “I doubt it,” he said. “There are a lot of them about. People prefer them because they dissipate their energy into the first body they hit, rather than passing on through to the next man. Less chance of hitting someone on your own team.”

I pondered on that one for a moment. “Any ideas who’s behind the kidnappings?” I asked.

“It looks like the handiwork of a guy called Gregor Venko.”

“I’ve never heard of him,” I said. “What kind of name is Venko?”

“I’d be worried if you
had
heard of him. Nobody seems to know exactly where he came from, but he walked out of the ruins of the former Yugoslavia with a dubiously-acquired personal fortune and an organisation that the Mafia would – and have tried to – kill him for. He’s involved in everything from gunrunning to political assassination, drugs, prostitution, illegal immigrants. If there’s money to be made out of it, just about any place in eastern Europe, then good old Gregor’s had a hand in the deal somewhere.”

“Sounds like a real charmer,” I said. Another vicious blast of wind sliced its way through my jacket and embedded itself firmly in my ribs. I shivered, pulling my collar up more tightly around my chin.

“He is, by all accounts. His ex-wife spends all her time sozzled out of her skull in a resort on the Black Sea, and his son—”

As he spoke there was a noise from somewhere below. A bang like that last gust of wind had caught an open door and slammed it shut.

“Wait one,” I interrupted. I put the phone down next to the chimney and rose cautiously to my feet. I crept over to the low wall that looked down over the back of the house and peered over the top of it.

Below me, walking quickly along the path that led away from the house towards the armoury and the ranges, was the figure of a man. The moon had darted out into view and was bright enough to lay a sharp-edged silhouette along the ground behind him.

The man was wearing a greatcoat that came almost down to his ankles, but even so I recognised Gilby’s distinctive upright gait. He was carrying something, but I couldn’t quite make out what it was.

I watched for a few moments longer and was just about to move away when another figure detached itself from the shadows of the house and made off after the Major. This second man kept to cover like a pro, moving swiftly and quietly.

As though warned by some sixth sense, Gilby stopped, circled slowly as though expecting to find someone behind him. I saw his head rise, scanning the windows of the house and even the roof line. My imagination made him pause over my location, made my heart bounce with fright. Then he turned and carried on.

I let my breath out shakily and edged back over to my chimney.

“What is it?” Sean demanded, tense, when I was back on the line.

“I heard a door. Looks like Gilby’s off to the ranges, though it’s a bit late for weapons’ practice. Somebody’s following him.”

“Did you see who it was?”

I shook my head then realised, as Sean must have done, that it was a pointless gesture. “No. It’s too dark and whoever it was he wasn’t trying to be seen, if you get me. If he goes again tomorrow night, I might try to get a closer look.”

I could have been mistaken, but I thought I heard Sean suck in a breath. “You be careful,” he said.

I frowned. “It’s what I’m here for, Sean.”

“I know it is,” he said, and there was no doubt about his serious tone. “But just remember it was what Salter was there for, too.”

“I hardly think,” I said dryly, “that I’m likely to forget.”

“Has anyone mentioned Salter?”

I paused. So much seemed to have happened since my arrival in Germany that the death of Kirk Salter had almost been pushed to the back of my mind.

“No,” I said at last, “but we don’t get out onto the gun range until tomorrow. I thought that might be a good time to bring the subject up.”

“How are you going to play it – with the shooting?”

“Like one of the hopeless and pathetic females they already assume me to be,” I said, and couldn’t entirely help the sneer in my voice.

“More fool them for underestimating you,” Sean said softly. “You watch your back though, Charlie.”

There was a warmth there that threatened to turn my brain a little mushy.

I shook it off.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I always do. And speaking of watching my back, I picked up an interesting tail during my driving lesson today.” And I told him all about the four men in the Peugeot.

“It certainly rattled everyone, although Figgis tried to make out it was all part of the set-up,” I said. “The Major’s trying to play it cool, but he goes off at the deep end if any of the instructors disappear on their own for too long.”

“It begins to sound like the place is under threat,” Sean murmured. I could almost hear his brain beginning to turn over.

“I did wonder,” I agreed. “What if we consider the possibility that Kirk wasn’t killed
by
the school, but because he was here? Some kind of warning, perhaps?”

“If that’s the case why dump his body and cover up the connection? If Gilby’s being threatened by an outside source, surely having one of his men shot dead would put the authorities on his side?”

“It could also shut him down,” I pointed out. “Maybe that was the intention. Does Gilby have any opposition round here who might want him out of business? Or failing that, who’s he upset in a big way recently?”

Sean promised to try and find me some answers before we spoke again. We didn’t linger over our goodbyes. I switched off the phone when I’d finished the call, preserving the battery even though the indicator was still showing it fully charged.

I crossed the roof grateful to be getting back inside. I pulled the outer door closed behind me, and slid the bolts back into position, then I turned.

A man was looming behind me in the gloomy stairwell.

I gave a gasp of shock, took a step back, and felt my feet shifting into a stance almost of their own volition. I had to stop myself from bringing my hands up. Had to abort the blow I’d been about to launch.

There had been a time when I would have gone for a defensive block before I’d have ever thrown a punch. It was what I’d taught my self-defence students. And I’d believed it was the right way.

Painful – not to say nearly deadly – experience had taught me that a pre-emptive strike was by far the best defence. To hell with fair play. To hell with waiting for the other man to make the first move. This wasn’t sport. He wasn’t your opponent. He was your enemy.

And if there were consequences, well so be it. Consequences could only be faced if you were around afterwards to face them.

“Now just what would you be up to, Fox?” demanded the thick Belfast tones that could only be O’Neill. He spoke softly, let the accent threaten by association.

I put my hand on my chest and noticed that his eyes followed it. I made a play of trying to steady my breathing. “Christ, you frightened the life out of me!” I said. “Don’t
do
that.”

O’Neill moved forwards into the light and grinned. The scar pulled his face into a lopsided tilt, but he wasn’t to be deflected. “Well? What were you doing out on the roof?”

I shrugged. “Doing a recce,” I said. “Major Gilby told us that we should learn the layout of the Manor for this exercise he’s planning for us next week.”

I was suddenly thankful for such a decent excuse. It was so much more convenient to use the truth rather than have to invent a lie. “The roof’s a great vantage point, and you could get to the rooms on the second floor via the balcony, no trouble. I thought it was worth checking out.”

He eyed me shrewdly, head on one side. “You’re not just a pretty face, are you now?” he said slowly. “Up here alone are you?”

I remembered Rebanks’s sly comments about having to get past the instructors if we wanted to investigate the men’s quarters. I felt my face begin to colour. “Yes,” I said, more than a little defensive.

“Hmm, so you didn’t bother to share your thoughts about the roof with anyone else then?” He regarded me for a moment longer and it was hard to know if he was impressed or disappointed. “Not much of a team player are you, Fox?”

***

The following morning, right after the usual punishment that was phys, we had our first introduction to firearms. Sean had told me to expect a motley collection of old Bulgarian Makarov pistols, but when we trooped down to the indoor range I discovered that Gilby had updated his armoury since then. A line of very new-looking SIG Sauer 9mms were waiting for us on a bench to one side.

“Now then,” Rebanks said, “hands up anyone who has ever handled or fired a gun of any description before?”

About half the group raised their hands. This included Hofmann and Elsa, which I would have expected given their backgrounds. More of a surprise was Jan, who also put her hand up. After a moment’s hesitation, I raised mine, too. I reckoned it was easier to fake a reaction as a bumbling amateur, rather than as a complete beginner.

“OK, in that case most of you will already know that these are lethal weapons. They only have one purpose in life, and that’s death. There’s no safety catch on these babies, so stay alert. You fuck about with these, you don’t take them seriously, and you will end up killing someone,” Rebanks said with an evil grin. “Do I make myself clear? OK, let’s get on with it.”

He ran quickly through the different parts of the weapons, how to load and unload the magazine, how to tell if they were safe and clear, what to do if you had a stoppage.