The Lethal Target (19 page)

‘Excellent!’ he said. ‘We can leave.’ He turned to Muir and added: ‘We’ll take them with us in the first helicopter.’

The
first
helicopter, thought Jake. He looked around at the people in the room. Of course, it would need more than one to evacuate this lot. So even if Stewart had stayed alive long enough to take out the helicopter, there would be others on their way.

‘Look, you’ve got the book,’ said Jake. ‘You might as well let us go.’

‘So you can go telling tales about us?’ snorted Muir. ‘No chance!’

‘Also, it’s less likely that our transport will be shot down if they know you’re with us,’ said Lemski.

So we were right, thought Jake. We’re going to be hostages.

Lemski called something in Russian, and one of the men went to a machine on a table at one side of the room and pressed a switch on it. Immediately, a vague humming sound that Jake had been aware of from the moment they entered the cottage stopped.

‘The EMP generator,’ said Lauren.

Lemski smiled.

‘Well done, Ms Graham.’ He beamed. ‘You will be a great benefit to us when we return to Russia. You have knowledge, and creative intelligence. A formidable combination.’ He turned to Jake, and his smile faded. ‘You, Mr Wells, have persistence. I’m not sure if that will be of any use. We shall have to see when we get back.’ He barked a command in Russian, and one of the men picked up a radio communicator and said something tersely into it.

‘He’s calling in the helicopter,’ Lauren told Jake.

‘And you speak Russian as well!’ chuckled Lemski.

‘No,’ said Lauren. ‘But it was the obvious next move once the EMP generator’s been switched off, and before the British authorities can react.’

‘The British authorities!’ sneered Lemski. ‘Amateurs!’

In the distance they heard the sound of a helicopter. Jake frowned.

You must have had that stashed somewhere pretty close,’ he commented.

‘On a container ship not too far away.’ Lemski smiled. ‘This has been well-planned for some time.’

‘Not that well planned,’ said Jake, ‘otherwise you wouldn’t have needed to kill so many people.’

Lemski’s face clouded over and he scowled in the direction of Muir. ‘Sometimes things do not always go as planned,’ he snapped.

Muir shrugged.

‘Hey, I’m a guy who gets things done,’ he said. ‘I moved things forward and saved your ass. Don’t forget that.’

Lemski didn’t reply. Instead, he gestured towards the door.

‘It’s time to go,’ he said.

He said something in Russian, and one of the armed men went to the door and opened it, then stepped out, gun poised and ready to fire. He checked the situation outside was clear, then he nodded to Lemski.

Lemski tucked the precious book into an inner pocket and produced a pistol, which he pointed at Jake and Lauren.

‘You will go out with us and get aboard the helicopter. If you attempt to run, we will shoot you and haul you on board. Your journey will then be very painful indeed.’

The sound of the helicopter was much louder now, the noise of its engine deafening.

Prodded by the pistols of Lemski and Muir, Jake and Lauren stepped out of the cottage. The helicopter was hovering just outside the courtyard. As Jake watched, it came down and settled.

‘Right! Move!’ snapped Lemski.

‘And keep your heads low!’ added Muir.

They hurried towards the helicopter, crouching low. Although the main rotor had stopped spinning, Jake noticed that the smaller rear rotor was still going round, and he made sure to keep well clear of it as they reached the chopper.

There were five seats inside the helicopter: one next to the pilot, two behind the front seats, and a third at the back. Muir climbed into the machine and took the seat next to the pilot, then kept his pistol trained on Jake and Lauren as they climbed aboard. Muir gestured at the two seats in the middle of the craft.

‘Strap yourselves in tight, and don’t try any funny business,’ he warned.

Jake and Lauren sat down and began to fasten their seat belts. Lemski climbed aboard and took the seat behind them. He still kept his pistol aimed at them. He snapped an order in Russian, and the pilot engaged the rotor. They felt the helicopter shake, and then begin to rise.

They were going to Russia; and a sick feeling filled Jake as he realised that they’d never ever get back.

Chapter 29

Suddenly the helicopter gave a violent lurch, throwing them all around. Jake and Lauren, their seat belts still not properly fastened, were hurled out of their seats; as were Lemski and Muir.

‘What the?!’ roared Muir.

He tried to stand up, but fell over again as the helicopter gave another dreadful lurch; and then came back to earth with a crash and nearly toppled over. At the impact, Lemski had fallen out through the open doorway and was lying on the ground.

‘Jump!’ yelled Jake.

And he grabbed Lauren and almost threw her out through the door, leaping down after her. They landed on the figure of Lemski, who yelled out in pain and writhed, making them both stumble. Jake saw the edge of the book sticking out of the professor’s inside pocket. He reached down and snatched it up, but as he did so he felt a punch in his back, and then clawing fingers grab him round the neck.

Jake swung his elbow back, and heard a grunt of pain and angry swearing in English as the fingers released their grip. Muir!

Jake swung round, just as Muir leapt at him again. The American’s gun had gone, possibly fallen under one of the seats, Jake guessed.

Jake swung a punch as hard as he could into the American’s face and felt it connect, and an intense pain shot through his hand and up his arm.

I’ve broken my hand! realised Jake.

He saw Lauren getting to her feet and reaching into the helicopter, and guessed she was reaching for one of the guns. Muir was too intent on getting the book back from Jake to keep his eye on Lauren.

I need to get him away from her, thought Jake. It’s the book he’s after!

As the American once again threw himself at Jake, Jake brought his elbow up into Muir’s face, sending him staggering back. Then he broke into a run, clutching the book in his one good hand, but before he could get far the American was on him again, crashing into Jake’s back and sending them both smashing to the ground.

Jake twisted round and kicked out, and felt his shoe thud into Muir; but the American was crazed, nothing seemed to affect him. Jake kicked again, and this time he felt Muir’s hold on him relax enough for Jake to scramble up and run. As Jake did, he realised that the helicopter had come down nearer to the edge of the cliff, and that edge was now just a metre away from him.

Jake pulled to a halt and turned, just in time to see Muir rushing towards him, arms outstretched, an expression of fury on his face. Jake swung the book out, as if he was going to hurl it over the edge of the cliff, and Muir launched himself in desperation at Jake, his fingers clutching for the book. As Muir’s hands closed on it, Jake snatched it back and then kicked out, his foot hitting Muir on the side of the knee. Muir yelled in pain and stumbled. Jake saw the American scrabbling at the air, desperately trying to regain his balance . . . and then he fell, disappearing over the edge of the cliff with a scream.

Jake moved back from the edge and saw Lauren engaged in a struggle with four of the Russians, who’d obviously rushed out of the cottage when the helicopter came down. She had the pistol in her hand and was trying to aim it, but the weight of numbers was overwhelming her, and she went down, taking the Russians with her.

Jake ran towards her, and as he did he saw Lemski lurch to his feet. The Russian professor had managed to get his hands on a pistol, and Jake saw that he was trying to get an aim on Lauren.

‘No!’ yelled Jake.

At the shout Lemski swung round, and now he pointed the pistol at Jake.

BANG!!

The bullet hit Jake right in the middle of the chest, knocking him over backwards. Even with the protection of the body armour, the impact hurt.

As he struggled to his knees, he saw Lemski approaching, the pistol held out at arm’s length, pointing straight at Jake.

‘Give me the book!’ roared the professor.

‘No!’ shouted back Jake.

This time, the professor swung the pistol back and then brought it down hard on the side of Jake’s head. Pain flooded through Jake’s skull. Then he felt more pain as the gun was smashed down on his good hand that held the book, and the book dropped from his fingers.

Lemski snatched up the book, and then hit Jake with the gun one more time, the metal barrel crashing agonisingly against his skull and sending him face first down to the ground.

He lay there, dazed and in pain. He struggled to push himself up off the ground. I have to get up, he thought. I have to save Lauren! I mustn’t let them take her!

He heard the sound of an approaching helicopter. The second helicopter. This one would take Lemski, and Lauren, and the book, off the island. If that happened, he’d never see Lauren again.

He forced himself to stand up. Both his hands were nothing but pain; the fingers of both hands were broken. But I’ll stop them some way, vowed Jake as he forced himself to run towards where Lauren was now being hauled to her feet by the Russians. He saw Lemski turn and point the gun at him. Because of the deafening noise of the helicopter now immediately overhead, he never heard the pistol go off; he just saw the puff of smoke from the barrel of the pistol, and then that powerful impact again as the bullet struck him, smashing him backwards to the earth once more.

Dazed, he lay on the ground and saw the dark shape of the helicopter, this one bigger than the last. And then he heard gunfire . . .

Chapter 30

The gunfire stopped abruptly. What had happened?

Jake pulled himself up from the ground and was stunned to see the Russians, including Professor Lemski, standing with their hands in the air. Lauren was there, as well, also with her hands above her head. Facing them were a group of men clad completely in black from head to foot, all wearing black helmets with black visors, and training automatic rifles on the Russians and Lauren.

Special forces! realised Jake. They’re ours!

‘Hey!’ called Jake, pointing towards Lauren. ‘She’s one of ours!’

Immediately, one of the black-clad soldiers ran over to Jake, his gun pointing at him.

‘Hands on your head!’ he snapped, his voice coming through a speaker system, giving it a mechanical, almost cybernetic tone.

‘I’m on your side!’ protested Jake.

‘Hands on your head!’ repeated the soldier, firmer this time.

Jake groaned and raised his hands to the top of his head.

‘That’s the best I can do,’ he said. ‘My fingers are broken.’

Jake sat in Dr Patel’s surgery as the doctor tended to his fingers, gently wrapping a long gauze bandage around them.

‘Only four of your fingers are broken,’ Dr Patel told him. ‘Unfortunately, it’s two on each hand.’

‘That’s all right,’ said Lauren from the couch where she was observing. ‘I can fetch and carry for him.’

‘I won’t be able to hold a knife and fork to eat,’ complained Jake.

‘I’m sure you’ll find a way round that,’ said Lauren.

The door opened and DS Stewart came in.

‘How’s he doing, Doc?’ he asked.

‘He’s fine,’ said Dr Patel.

‘I’m not fine!’ exclaimed Jake. ‘I’ve got four broken fingers!’

‘It could have been a lot worse,’ said Stewart. ‘How long will it take?’

‘This is the last one,’ said Dr Patel. ‘Twenty minutes.’

‘OK. When you’re ready, Mr Wells, there’s someone who wants to talk to you at the station via our Skype system.’

‘Who?’ asked Jake.

‘He didn’t give his name. He said you’d know who he was.’

Of course, thought Jake. Gareth Findlay-Weston. His boss at the Department of Science, and head of an MI5 section. Or, rather, his
former
boss. Although, according to the piece of paper that Gareth had sent to Pam Gordon, Jake had been reinstated. Was Gareth calling to renege on that? More importantly, was he going to renege on allowing Lauren permission to return to the UK?

Stewart drove them to the police station, Lauren in the front passenger seat, and Jake in the back, his plaster-encased hands cradled on his lap.

‘We thought you were dead,’ said Jake. ‘You and PC Frierson. We heard you groan when they shot you.’

‘The bullets hit the earth bank, which acted like a sandbag. I let out a groan to make them think they’d got us. I was hoping they’d then just go away.’

‘And if they hadn’t?’ asked Lauren.

‘I suppose I’d have had to shoot them,’ said Stewart. ‘But it wouldn’t have changed things much. We’d have still had a siege situation on the island. And there was a danger of both of you getting killed in the crossfire.’

‘How did those special forces guys know when and where to come down?’ asked Jake.