Revenge (12 page)

It was late afternoon when the train stopped at the French and Spanish border where all passengers had to disembark and walk through customs. Jason and Joanne searched for a telephone.

“I don't have any money to call,” Jason said glumly when he noticed a pay phone to Joanne. She pulled her hand out of her jacket pocket and handed Jason a handful of coins.

“Look what I found. Don't use them all. I need a drink.”

“Then we should have taken the uniform from a richer girl.” Jason laughed as he marched toward the phone. He dialed the international code and SYUI office.

“I need to speak to George Young. This is Jason Steed.”

After a long pause, a voice answered. “Jason?”

“George…I'm sorry. I did everything I could. The Triads are everywhere. Kotang had a gun. I was with Joanne when they shot Martin.” He was interrupted.

“Jason, I know you did everything you could, son. Is Joanne okay?”

“I won't let anything happen to her. I promise. They will have to kill me first. I will bring her home safe. George, I'm sorry. I really tried to protect Martin. Is he okay?” Jason voice started to break. He was tired and was still feeling guilty. He fought with his emotions.

“It's okay, Jason. Martin is off the critical list now. He is expected to make a full recovery. I want you to hand yourself in to the local police. We have to trust them.”

There was a long silence.

“It's over?”

“No, Boudica got away. We think she's in France, but we can't go hunting for her in another country. If I had my way, we would storm straight up to Mont Blanc and fish her out of her lair. The Triads are gathering in there to plan their next move now that we've shut down the Coco-Bites factory.

“I'm sorry I got you into this, Jason. The Spanish police can keep you safe. Just don't talk to anyone else. Whatever you do, keep the girl safe. If not, this will all have been for nothing. But hand yourself in. Don't run from the Spanish police anymore.”

“If you say so,” he said and sighed.

“I do say so. Your father will be pleased you are safe.”

“He's away at sea.”

“No, Jason, he came home. He gave me a hard time for using you.”

“Damn it. I'm going to be in so much trouble!” With that remark, George started to laugh. “What's so funny?”

“Jason, you've killed a dozen Triads and assaulted a police officer and two kids. You have half the bleeding villains around the world trying to kill you. Plus, you are on the Spanish police's ‘Most Wanted' list, and all you are worried about is being in trouble with your dad!”

“I guess when you say it like that, it does sound trivial.” The phone started beeping. “We have no more money. I'll do as you say.” The phone cut off.

Joanne was sitting on the floor cross-legged with her arms folded. Her eyes were almost closed. Jason bent down and took her arm, gently pulling her up.

“Come on,” he said. “Let's get something to eat and drink.”

“You still have some money left?”

“We won't need any. The good Spanish people will buy it for us.” Jason noticed a policeman near the checkpoint. Jason introduced himself. The stunned policeman called on his radio. Within five minutes, the station was full of police sirens and flashing blue lights.

The police tried to separate them, but Joanne screamed and held Jason's hand so tightly she almost cut off his circulation. They allowed them to travel to the police station together, but once at the station, they were separated and given food and drink. Jason was led into a small interview room. It had no windows, a table, and three chairs. Jason sat on a chair and waited for nearly two hours. Eventually he fell asleep with his head on his forearms on the table. He was woken by a loud, deliberate cough.

“Hola,” a man in a suit said. Jason just nodded. He looked the man up and down. He was thin with dark Mediterranean skin, slick, greasy black hair, and dark brown eyes. The broad shadow of the Spanish police detective loomed over Jason, who still had his head down and eyes half-closed.

He leaned in from behind—his breath going down the neck of the boy's shirt and his mouth close to Jason's ear. “You say you are Jason Steed, but you tell others you are called Pepe. To me, you say only the truth. You look so small for a mass murderer.”

Jason could smell alcohol on his breath.

“Can we speak in English? I thought you called me a mass murderer,” Jason said and laughed.

“Your Spanish is very good, Jason. That is what I called you,” he said, now in broken English.

“You're joking, right? I haven't murdered anyone. I defended myself.”

“Maybe that is true. Maybe it's not. But if it is, why did you run from the police and steal clothing?”

“Duh! Maybe it's because people shooting are trying to kill us. I didn't know who to trust. Besides, the last policemen who were looking after us got killed. I'm not saying any more until SYUI gets here.”

“SYUI?” he said and laughed. “They aren't coming. George Young has been relieved of duty for the mess he caused. You are on your own now. I suggest you cooperate with us, and we can close this.”

A knock at the door came, and a uniformed policeman entered.

“Sir, the girl. She will not speak to us. She is crying and screaming at everyone. She demands to see the boy,” he said in Spanish. Jason got up from his seat.

“Let me see her,” he ordered.

“Señor Steed, we need to interview you separately to make sure your stories are the same.”

“Unless I see her now, I will not say another word to you. I'm a minor. My father should be here and his lawyer. Let me see her and we will tell you everything you want to know,” Jason pleaded. After a brief pause, Jason was taken down the corridor. He could hear Joanne screaming his name and crying from a room farther down. He ran into the room and found her on the floor with her arms around her knees. Her face was red and covered in tears.

• • •

George left Scotland Yard offices in the back of an unmarked police car. He was being driven to a safe house in East London. He looked at his watch and wondered how long it had been since he had last eaten.

Two single gunshots rang out. The car swerved and hit the back of a double-decker bus. George was thrown to the floor.

“You okay, mate?” George asked as he lifted himself off the floor. Blood trickled down the driver's face from a black hole in his forehead. George was now certain someone on the inside was giving information to the Triads. He was in an unmarked vehicle, and only a few people at SYUI knew where he was heading.

The back door was opened, and a gun was stuck into George's round stomach. He raised his hands and slowly climbed out. Three masked gunmen gestured for him to follow. He was thrown onto the floor of a waiting van. The doors slammed shut. He felt a sharp pain in his leg from a syringe and then nothing.

• • •

Simon Caldwell called an emergency meeting with the secretary of state. He sat at the head of the table in a dimly lit room. Secretary Nigel Raw sat at the other end, and Metropolitan police commissioner John Lock sat in the center, alongside two SYUI officers.

“Young has been taken and, we suspect, killed. The good news is that Coco-Bites is off the shelves. There is no telling how many lives have been saved by the operation. In every battle, we lose a few soldiers. It's unavoidable no matter how sad,” Caldwell spoke calmly and directly.

“The Steed boy and Lin Tse-Hsu's daughter, they are in custody?” Secretary Raw asked.

“Yes, the Spanish authorities have them.”

“What do you have planned for them?”

“The girl can be returned to her father in China. Let them protect her. A top Chinese agent is on his way there now. However, Jason Steed is a bigger problem. He is still top on the Triad's hit list. It's not nice to say this, but it would have been easier if he had been removed by the Triads. Then this would be over.”

He continued, “I will be straight to the point. We can't afford any more innocent people getting killed. It may be better for everyone concerned if he had an accident.”

“But Jason Steed is a national hero. He's already the youngest person in Britain to be awarded the Victoria Cross and the Queens Award for Bravery. Not to mention he has a close connection with the royal family,” Police Commissioner Lock argued. He was outraged by the suggestion.

“This won't be over until Boudica gets her revenge! Once he is out of the picture, things will quiet down again. In all battles, there are casualties,” Simon Caldwell grunted.

“You have got to be joking, man,” Commissioner Lock protested. “The boy is a hero. If this got out, I don't want to think what could happen. Her Majesty still has a lot of power. How could you explain this to her?”

Secretary Raw interrupted, “Unless you have anything else to suggest, leave it to Caldwell and his office to tidy up. We need Steed back in British custody ASAP—one way or another.” Raw gave Caldwell a pointed look.

John Lock jumped up from his seat, knocked his chair over, and stormed out of the meeting as he shook his head.

Jason and Joanne were asleep in a Spanish cell when a huge explosion rocked the police station. Jason woke instantly. He put on his shoes and looked outside the cell door. Smoke started billowing down the corridor. Several gunshots broke the silence. He turned to wake Joanne and almost knocked her over. She had her shoes on and was right behind him.

More gunshots split the night silence. The Triads had launched a full-scale attack on the police station. Armed with just revolvers, the Spanish police fought back against the Triads, who were heavily armed and prepared.

“It's time to go,” Jason said, taking her hand. She looked up at him adoringly.

They ran up the stairs toward the fire escape. As they headed for it, the doors blew in with a terrific explosion, momentarily deafening them and covering them in dust and smoke. Jason pulled Joanne to the ground in the corner. He noticed two dark figures with guns running into the room. The dust and smoke from the explosion hid them as they crouched down. Once they passed, Jason tugged at Joanne, and they ran toward the exit through the smoke. Once in the street, gunshots and sirens could be heard from all directions. They ran from the building and up a narrow street, but as they turned a corner, a masked gunman stood in their path. Jason let go of Joanne's hand and ran at him. Before the man could raise his gun, Jason launched into a flying kick and caught the man in the face, sending him to the ground. Jason leapt to his feet and pounced on the man. He threw a right fist at the man's throat and crushed his windpipe. He grabbed the man's gun and fled with Joanne.

As they turned the corner of another street, two more gunmen blocked their way. Jason didn't hesitate. He opened fire. The German-made Lugar pistol hit its target. Both men fell to the ground. As they passed them, Joanne picked up a gun and passed it to Jason.

A handsome, well-groomed Asian man wearing a white suit and a black, opened-necked shirt stepped out of a silver-colored Porsche. He slowly placed his Ray-Ban sunglasses in his jacket pocket and closed his car door. Jason noticed him and held his revolver ready. The man pulled out a gun from inside his jacket. Jason raised his gun to shoot and yelled in pain when the man shot Jason's gun from his hand. Jason released his grip on Joanne and ran at the man, not knowing if he had enough time to hit him before the man fired again. As Jason leapt into the air to kick, the man placed his gun back in his pocket and blocked Jason's attack. Jason counterattacked and swept the man's feet away from him, sprawling him out on the road's surface. He looked surprised to have been taken down by a boy. As Jason tried to pounce, the man rolled away and pulled out his gun, pointed it in Jason's direction, and fired twice.

This
is
the
end,
Jason told himself as he ducked. He felt no pain though. Shooting erupted from behind him as Triads fired at Jason. He turned to see one lying on the floor and two others shooting. The man in white opened fire and shot them both through the hearts. Jason glanced across at Joanne, who was kneeling down with her hands over her ears.

Another melee of automatic gunfire came from the other end of the street. The mystery man in white leapt onto the hood of his car and killed the assassin with great accuracy. He reminded Jason of his hero, Bruce Lee. Jason pulled Joanne to her feet. He had no idea who the man was, but he had to trust him. He could have killed them easily if he had wanted to.

“When I say to take her and run, go and I'll find you,” he instructed Jason, who was ducking down for cover with Joanne next to a car.

A flurry of bullets hit the street again. The man kept his cool and fired accurately, picking off the attackers one by one.

“Now run and don't stop!” he shouted as he took a second gun from inside his jacket and then used both guns for covering fire.

Jason took Joanne's hand and ran down the street. The shooting soon ceased behind them. The man had finally been hit, and he was now lying on the ground—a large red patch spreading across the back of his white jacket. Again, the man in white reloaded and fired at the Triads. Jason glanced back. His eyes met the eyes of the fallen man. Jason would never be able to explain the look, but it told him to keep going and not to give up. Bullets pounded the wounded man's body. The sight angered Jason. He admired how the stranger had fought to the very end.

When Jason got to the corner, another Triad gunman ran out in front of him. Unfortunately for the gunman, he was only a few feet away from Jason. Jason released Joanne's grip and threw a makiwara punch at the man's chest. It was one of the most powerful punches in karate. He kept his momentum going, and just before impact, he twisted his hips and shoulder into his two-knuckled fist. He gave an ear blasting “keeah” as he hit the man. The impact broke the man's rib bones, sending one directly into his heart. Jason collapsed on top of his victim and then held his hand, which had been wounded during the impact. Joanne bent down, picked up the man's gun, and handed it to Jason as she helped him to his feet.

She's getting good at this,
he said to himself, trying to shake the pain from his hand.

They ran down an alley hand in hand and emerged into a busy street directly in the path of an oncoming a Coca-Cola truck. It swerved to miss the two children and hit a small Renault traveling in the other direction. Cars screeched to a halt and sounded horns. A bus smashed into the back of the small Fiat car that crashed into a lamppost. A Vespa scooter swerved, rode up the pavement, and knocked into a flower stall.

A woman screamed in horror when she saw that Jason had a gun in his hand. They passed the angry crowd and several streets of homes until they came to a busier part of the city. They skirted around the streets and ducked between buildings. He didn't look back but ran faster than he had ever run in his life. Somehow, Joanne kept on her feet as he pulled her along. They continued to sprint between cars and motorcycles. Jason tucked his gun down his pants. They stopped running and walked briskly among the crowds. The two youngsters were out of breath and red-faced.

He noticed a man filling his car with gas when the man left to go inside and pay. Jason and Joanne climbed in the back and ducked down under the seats. The man climbed back in and sat heavily in his chair. Jason fought the panic and tried to breathe as shallowly as he could. His heart thudded in his ears. Joanne put her hand over her mouth but could not stop panting, which the driver heard.

“What are you doing in my car? Get out or I'll call the police,” he ordered. Jason stuck the gun in the balding man's neck and spoke Spanish.

“Drive north. Just do as I say. Please don't make me kill anyone else tonight.” The man looked at Jason and noticed his eyes. The boy did not look like he was joking, and the cold metal from the gun in his neck was very real. He nervously started the car and drove north.

“You take my car. I have some money. Please don't shoot me. I have children,” he begged. Jason studied him and noticed the man had a red drinker's nose and watery eyes.

“Hello, do I look like I can drive? Just do as I say and you won't get hurt. If you want to see your children again, just do as I say.” Jason sat back in the seat and took the gun out of the man's neck. Joanne said nothing. She gazed out the window and looked at the Spanish town as if this were all a bad dream.

• • •

After three hours, the driver slowed down and pulled to the side of the road. It was a county road with no streetlights. Nothing could be seen outside without the lights. Moths and insects danced outside in the beam of the car lights.

“Why have you stopped?” Jason questioned.

“We are about a mile from the border, and they will search the car. I have some things best not seen by customs,” he spoke slowly and calmly.

“What things?”

“Things children must not see.
Even
children with guns. Adult things.”

“
What
things?” Jason asked again, putting the gun in the man's neck.

“Adult books with pictures. I sell it to special clients.”

“You mean porn?” Jason snorted.

“
Sí
,” the man said.

“Where are we?”

“Candanchu. It's a small border town. Two miles beyond are the Pyrenees Mountains.”

“Does the village have a train?”

“
Sí
, but it only goes south. It does not go through the Pyrenees. The town is small—a few hotels for skiing, a few shops and homes, and a small airport.”

“How far is the airport?”

“It's not that sort of airport. It's a tiny airport with small planes—nothing commercial. We are close to the airport now. It's over to your right. You will find maybe two hangars and a few small planes. It has a small grass runway.”

“What's your name, sir?” Jason asked.

“Juan Martinez.”

“Well, Señor Martinez, this is where we leave you. Drive home and say nothing to anyone. If you do, I will let it be known that Juan Martinez sells illegal porn.”

They climbed out of the car and watched Juan turn his car around. The sound of his car slowly faded. The red taillights grew smaller until they too faded, leaving them in total darkness. Slowly, as their eyes became used to the darkness, they walked toward the airport. A soft breeze was blowing across the grass runway, carrying with it the smell of aviation fuel. As they got closer, Jason could just make out the large shadows of the hangars. One by one, he searched the hangars until he found what he was looking for.

• • •

Back in the suburbs of London, a chauffeur-driven black Jaguar XJ6 stopped outside a home on Church Road. Police Commissioner John Lock stepped out. He rang the doorbell several times before the lights came on. Slowly the door opened. Dr. Turner, who was wearing a robe over his pajamas, looked out at the man in uniform.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Mr. Turner?” Lock asked.

“Well, it's Dr. Turner actually, but at midnight, it doesn't matter. Can I help you?”

“I need to speak to Scott. It's urgent,” he said as he pushed the door back and walked in. “I know it's late, but I simply must talk to him.”

“He's in bed and has school in the morning. But let me guess. This has something to do with Jason?” Without invitation, Lock started walking up the stairs, followed by Dr. Turner and Mrs. Turner.

Scott was still asleep, lying on his side away from the door. Lock walked over, sat on the boy's bed, and woke Scott.

“Do you know who I am?”

“Yes, sir. You don't speak to me normally. Too important, but I've seen you at Scotland Yard Police Station.

“Then you know that I would only come here this late for a very important reason.”

“Is Jason okay?”

“He's alive. I can tell you that. Did you see the news reports about the police station in Spain? That was the Triads. It looks like Jason and the girl got away. As you can imagine, the whole thing is a major embarrassment to the British government.”

“Why?”

“We have an international incident on our hands! Over one hundred Spanish people have been killed—police and civilians. And it's not going to stop until the Triads get what they want.”

“What do they want?” Dr. Turner asked.

“Simply, the girl as a hostage and Jason's dead body.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” Scott asked.

“If on the odd chance Jason contacts you, you must warn him. He has to lie low and he must not trust anyone. I've said enough already, Scott. I was never here and we never had this conversation. Think on it. With Jason dead, they can close the case as a success. While he is still running around Europe, killing off his attackers, he is an embarrassment to the department.”

“Are you serious? They are shooting at him. He's running for his life and
he's
an embarrassment?”

“Not to me, Scott. To me, Jason is a national treasure—a real hero. But every new body that turns up increases the pressure, and the prime minister wants it to stop and doesn't care how.”

“Can't you give him any help?”

“I just did.”