Slow Recoil (33 page)

“They replaced the lock,” McKelvey said. “He's in here…”

“There must be another entrance at the back, Charlie, for them to come and go. They could not lock themselves in like this,” Maxime said.

“I don't have time to find their secret fucking passage. This is the quickest way in.”

“Try this,” Maxime said, and he reached down and picked up a red brick.

McKelvey used the brick as a hammer. Sparks shot as he struck the padlock. Any hope they had for the element of surprise was surely lost. The sound bounced and echoed from the side of the massive structure. The lock blew apart. McKelvey pulled the chain and tossed it to the weeds. He gave the door a tug, and it opened with a groan.

They stepped inside the near-darkness. Their nostrils were immediately assailed by the deep funk of must and mould mixed with the lingering pong of rich malt hops. Water dripped from overhead pipes. Maxime led with his flashlight and his weapon drawn.

“This way,” he said, aiming the band of light at a set of iron stairs.

McKelvey picked up a length of rusted pipe from the ground and followed.

Kadro had been preparing to leave the abandoned factory and meet McKelvey at Exhibition Place. He had a length of rope and a band of cloth which he planned to use to tie McKelvey's hands and blindfold him for the drive back to the plant. He had asked Turner to meet them at the factory at eleven, providing Kad with enough time to eliminate both the school teacher and the police officer. Kad had even contemplated ambushing Turner and perhaps staging it so the one-eyed Canadian could take the blame for the killings. He had left the afternoon completely open for the assassination of Goran Mitovik, who generally worked late afternoons and evenings. He wouldn't be coming to work this night, however. Since the previous day's epiphany, Kadro now believed it was his obligation as a survivor to endure. It was his job now to live and to remember. He would return home after all of this.

Kad had put the cellphone in front of the school teacher's mouth so the policeman would know that he was alive. He realized, as he took the phone back, that the incoming flight could give away his location, at least to some degree. So they were near the airport. He doubted McKelvey had the ability or the equipment to triangulate a precise location based on the sound of an engine. Still, it had been an error in judgement, and he had admonished himself for the lapse. Now Kad was finished re-tying the knots on the school teacher and gathering his tools when he heard the banging on the door.

He was on his haunches. He stopped. Listened.

“He's coming,” the school teacher croaked.

Kad moved to him. He ripped a small length of the cloth and shoved it in Fielding's mouth. He turned and pulled the handgun from his belt. He cocked the weapon, sliding a bullet into the chamber. Each office on the top floor was connected to an office on either side by a single door, so that it was conceivable an employee could walk from one end of the hall to the other by passing through each office. Kad walked on the balls of his feet over to the door on the right side, he slid the lock latch, turned the knob and stepped into the darkness. He would come out at the far end of the hall and surprise McKelvey.

Maxime and McKelvey reached the top of the stairs. There was a long hallway with offices along the left-hand side. It was open on the right-hand side, with a railing overlooking the plant floor, presumably so supervisors and foremen could stand and watch the workers' progress below. There was stronger light on this level, coming through the shattered windows, falling in broken bars across the dirty floor. Maxime nodded for McKelvey to head left to the end of the hallway.

McKelvey crept along the hall with the rusty pipe cold and rough in his hand. He noticed he was shaking, and he couldn't catch his breath. He paused at the first door, put his hand on the knob and turned. The broken light illuminated Fielding on the floor, his hands tied behind his back and around a foundation pole.

Jesus,
McKelvey thought,
he's alive
…

He pushed the door wide to make sure there was nobody behind it, then he went to Fielding. He pulled the cloth from the man's mouth. Fielding gulped for air.

“Tim,” he whispered, “where are they? How many?”

“One,” the teacher managed, and he nodded towards the door leading to the adjoining office.

McKelvey worked furiously to untie Fielding's hands. When he had pulled the ropes off, Fielding did not move his arms. McKelvey went to help him bend them slowly, but Fielding cried out in pain.

“It's okay,” McKelvey said, and he set his friend on his side. “I'll be back.”

Kad could hear the soft footsteps, then he heard the cry from the school teacher. He was inside the last office now. He paused at the door, then turned the knob slowly. He opened the door a crack and listened. The hunted rarely had the advantage, so he crouched low and peered into the hallway. Put them on the defensive, Krupps had always said.

Kad felt the presence of the man an instant before he felt the barrel of the gun touch his scalp. He held his breath, motionless.

“Put it down,” Maxime said. He was flush against the wall, hiding in the shadows. “Come this way, Charlie,” he yelled without turning his head away.

Kad was reluctant to lay his gun down. But he had other tricks, and he could wait for the right moment. He set the gun on the floor and put his hands in the air. McKelvey closed in on them. He was gripping the piece of pipe.

“Put it down, Charlie. Please. No disrespect,” Maxime said.

McKelvey stared
at him. He didn't move. Maxime took the gun off Kad just long enough to wave it in McKelvey's direction.

“Just put it on the ground, Charlie,” he said.

McKelvey bent at the waist and put the pipe down. “You mind telling me what the fuck is going on?” he said.

“There will be time for that,” Maxime said. “Right now I need your help. We will need to tie our friend to a chair.”

“And then what?” McKelvey said.

“And then,” Maxime said, “we get him to tell us everything he knows about The Colonel. He looks very stubborn, so I expect it to be a messy job. You have a strong stomach, Charlie?”

Maxime kept the gun trained on Kadro while McKelvey was to tie the man's hands behind his back. Out of habit, he first checked the man's pant pockets, as he had done a thousand times before throwing a suspect in the back of his cruiser. He found a few papers and stuffed them in his shirt pocket without looking at them. He was about the sweep the rest of the man's body when a knock on the door to the adjoining office startled the three of them.

“Put your weapons on the floor,” came a voice from behind the door. “I've got the school teacher here.”

Maxime motioned for McKelvey to open the door. The man with the eye patch was standing there with a gun to Fielding's head. Fielding was barely conscious, held up on his feet by the collar.

“Davis Chapman,” McKelvey said.

“Or Chapman Davis. Today you can call me Turner,” he said. “Looks like we have a decision to make. Drop the gun, Frenchie.”

McKelvey glanced between Turner and Maxime. He shook his head.

“You guys know each other?”

“Interpol here has been doggedly following us with interest for some time now, I do believe. I must admit, I had no idea you were this close,” Turner said. “I have little faith in the general level of talent at Interpol these days. Now why don't you tell your friend here what you're really doing over here.”

“I am here under the authority of the Secretary-General of Interpol with a Red Notice for the arrests of Bojan Kordic and Goran Mitovik.”

“And to collect your bounty from the Serb mob at the same time,” Turner said. “Don't forget to tell that part.”

“What's he talking about?” McKelvey said.

“That's right,” Turner said. “Mr. Interpol here wins a medal for bringing the lot of us to justice then pockets a couple hundred grand for making sure we don't ever make it to trial. But it sounds like he double-crossed the mob, too. You let us kill Kordic, and we will get Mitovik, too. You played both sides. Just like the French during the Second World War.”

“Shut up,” Maxime said. “You have no idea what you are talking about.”

He still held the gun to Kadro's head where he was sprawled on the floor. “We are the same, you and me, Charlie,” he said. “It is the same with your son, no? Why can't we have both justice and revenge in the same meal? These men Bojan Kordic and Goran Mitovik, they are not worth the cost of a trial.”

“It's true?” McKelvey said. “You're here to kill these two? You used me and Tim to draw them in?”

McKelvey felt weak at the knees. He looked over at Fielding held up by the shirt, the gun at his head. He should have taken Fielding out of the plant when he'd first untied him. He would have gotten him to the safety of the car. Now Turner pushed the gun to the teacher's temple and stared at Maxime.

“Okay,” Maxime said. “I'm putting it down.”

He was lowering himself at the knees, the handgun still in his grasp, when a man stepped into the doorway facing the stairs. The light was at his back, and his features were indiscernible. When he took another step forward, the light fell across half of his face and McKelvey saw that it was Leyden. He had the department issue shotgun from the trunk of his unmarked cruiser. He racked the action. Turner pushed Fielding forward so that the school teacher stumbled headlong into McKelvey and Maxime, then used the moment of confusion to slip away into the darkness.

Kad did not hesitate within this window of opportunity. He was up on his feet and threw himself at Maxime, hands thrusting, grabbing for the weapon. McKelvey jumped in, got his arm around Kad's neck and pulled back hard, getting the man off balance. Kad was too strong, and he rolled his shoulders and wrestled free. McKelvey didn't see the pocket knife Kad had pulled from the strap on his calf, a flash of silver. Leyden set Fielding on the floor and was taking his pulse, using one hand as the other levelled the shotgun out in front. Maxime disappeared after Turner.

“Krupps!” Kad said, breathing hard. His eyes were wild.

McKelvey saw the glint of the knife, then knew he had no choice, and he took two fast steps with a hand out in defense to catch the blade, and he brought his head down against Kad's forehead. It was a concussive blast, bone on bone, and the adrenalin surge allowed McKelvey to maintain the momentum, to use his weight to drive Kad backwards. He put a foot behind the man's legs to trip him, then they were both going down in a heap of dead weight, McKelvey on top. It was a full second before he realized that in the commotion, in their falling together, the blade had punctured him. Somewhere in the middle of his stomach, below the solar plexus. There was no pain, just the warm rush of blood.

“Put it down!” Leyden yelled, but Kad was up now, blood running in a thick line from the cut McKelvey had opened across the centre of his forehead.