Avenger (26 page)

Jovana took her early-morning swim just as she usually would, being sure to maintain her routine to the letter. This morning the water tingled against her skin with every stroke and kick. She felt as though she could swim forever, imagining herself not in the pool but in the ocean, swimming away. Swimming home.

Home … Jovana didn’t even have one to go to or any idea, apart from some of her earliest childhood memories, of what a safe, loving home could be like. When she imagined one, her only reference points were the Hollywood romantic fantasies she’d devoured whenever Drago had left her. The Witch didn’t allow her to watch anything unless she chose it, and then it was nothing but horror, murder or deviant porn.

Jovana allowed her imagination to carry her away to her dream future. Today was the day she truly believed she might begin her journey toward it.

As she dried herself off by the pool then wrapped the towel around her body, she took in a deep breath, thinking that this would be the last day she would spend in this horrible place in the heart of paradise. She walked unhurriedly back to her room, noticing that the men were no longer sleeping on the sunloungers. They’d probably crawled back to their rooms when the sun broke through last night’s rain clouds and shone directly on their faces. Today there would be confrontation and violence, but she was used to that; so used to it, in fact, that she was almost resigned to it. All she had to do was keep out of the way until he came for her. As she knew he would. Without knowing him at all, she trusted him more than any man she had ever known. She could see it in his eyes. That’s why, when he’d said that she needed to stay here until he came back for her, she’d agreed without fuss. He would come back for her. She just had to be patient and wait.

When she returned to her room, Jovana showered for longer than usual, washing her hair and daydreaming. She had no idea what the day would hold for her but she didn’t care. There was nothing she hadn’t been through already. She needed to be strong and ready for when he came for her.

Her bathroom door burst open. Standing there, holding the door open, eyes blazing with anger, was the Night Witch.

Morgan rolled out of the bed in Hemsworth’s guest room and slowly got to his feet. His face felt like it was about to burst, his ribs – front and back – ached when he breathed, and there was an occasional stabbing pain whenever he stupidly attempted a deep breath or, worse still, a yawn. The slash on his leg was in much better shape than he’d thought it would be. It was throbbing like hell but George had done a great job of patching him up and Morgan was dosed with just enough painkillers to take the edge off without completely wiping him out. He couldn’t afford a B-grade game today.

There was a tap on the door, Color Sergeant Hemsworth called out, “Coffee,” and Morgan replied gratefully, “Be right there.”

At the kitchen table, the two ex-soldiers sat together quietly; the older man offering unstinting support to the younger, who was still in the game. Morgan was tapping away on Hemsworth’s laptop, checking in on the emails he’d sent from his ghost account in the middle of the night and verifying that the various components of the hastily hatched plan were now in motion. Feeling relieved, he sat back in his seat and downed the rest of the scrambled eggs and bacon Hemsworth had served up, and finished off his second cup of freshly brewed black coffee with two heaped spoons of sugar.

“So, we all set, son?”

“We are, George,” Morgan replied. “Very much so, thanks to you. I’m sure you know how invaluable it is to have someone you can rely on in your corner, especially in my current circumstances. I’m very grateful. I’ll make sure you’re well compensated for everything you’ve done and are going to do. You can count on it.”

“You know, son, when I was just a young paratrooper, a Tom, I was with 2PARA at Goose Green. I copped a seven-six-two in the gut from an Argie FN and was stuck out in no man’s land in the middle of the battle, thinking,
I’m going to die out here tonight.
May twenty-eighth, 1982 it was. I was just eighteen. All I could see was the black sky above me and tracer rounds going straight over my head. The noise was like nothing you can ever imagine. I was losing blood, holding my guts in my fucking hands like this, and the longer I lay there, the colder and colder I got. I was crying like a baby, blubbering, if you must know. And then, out of nowhere, the Company Sar’ Major, Geordie Pickering, appeared. ‘What’s up with you, Hemsworth?’ he says. ‘Gut shot, sir,’
I says back to him. ‘That wasn’t very fucking clever, now was it? Right, let’s get you out of here then,’ he says. So, he did a rough field patch-up on me, scooped me up in his arms and carried me over two hundred yards, under fire, straight to the medics. I found out later that he’d been running back and forth between the platoons throughout the entire fucking battle, throwing the boys boxes of ammo, collecting casualties and taking them back to the Company Aid Post. Non-stop. The whole time, he was in the thick of it. Above ground, directly in the enemy’s line of fire, while the rest of us were shitting ourselves, burying ourselves like ticks in among the rocks and frozen fucking ground.”

Hemsworth stood, lifted his T-shirt and showed Morgan the latticework of scars that criss-crossed his abdomen. Battlefield surgery. “I wouldn’t be here now if not for Geordie Pickering. And you know what? When they offered him the Military Medal, he turned it down. He told ’em, ‘I’m a Paratrooper. I don’t need a medal for doing my fucking job.’ They should have given him the Victoria Cross. Bravest man I’ve ever known. So, don’t you worry about compensating me, my boy. Let’s take these fuckers down, and if we come out of it with our heads still on our shoulders, then that’ll be more than enough compensation for me.”

Morgan stood and shook Hemsworth’s hand across the table.

“But, for fuck’s sake,” Hemsworth added, “don’t tell the missus I was involved, or else
she’ll
kill me.”

“Do you know anything about this?”

“No! Of course not. How could I?”

“You didn’t hear anything?”

“No,” Jovana replied. “When I left you I went straight to my room. What happened here?”

She was standing in the corridor outside the room that had been Morgan’s. It was trashed. Furniture, sheets and the few belongings he had left behind were strewn in every direction. It certainly wasn’t like this when she had come in and found his knife. She genuinely didn’t know how it had happened.

In the center of it, the Night Witch stood glowering between the mess and Jovana, her face flushed red and her fists clenching and releasing. Jovana was preparing for one of the Witch’s tirades, half expecting to see everything in the room – the bed, chairs, table and clothes – all suddenly lift from the floor, swirl up and spin around the Witch in a violent cyclone before flying out of the window. The idea that it could happen was distressing enough, but when the shuffling of feet behind her broke into her thoughts, Jovana stepped back. It was Godek Kajkowski. This time he was not looking quite as intimidating as he normally did. He reeked of alcohol, which was not in itself unusual, but he looked as though he had consumed far more than even he had expected to. And today was not the day for it. His expression and demeanor declared guilt. He had confessed without breathing a word.

“No,” the Witch began, her eyes now locked on to a new target. “Don’t tell me you’re responsible for this? Where is he?”

Kajkowski didn’t answer. He massaged his temples and rubbed his eyes. Suffering. When he opened them again, the Witch was standing just inches away. Jovana didn’t even see her move.

“Where is he?” she screamed. “Tell me!”

“We strung him up for Domingo!” Godek yelled back. “Out in the swamp.”

The Night Witch slapped Kajkowski as hard as she could across the face. He felt it, Jovana could tell, but he didn’t move. He just stood there, full of guilt and violence. If he snapped he could kill them both easily.

“You did this to me today, of all days? Do you even comprehend how much money is at stake?” His lack of response answered her. “Of course you do. I’m beginning to think that Mr Security was right about you and Dariusz. You’re waiting until the deal is done, waiting to see that the funds have been transferred, waiting for them all to leave – and then you’ll kill me.”

Before Kajkowski could respond, the Night Witch turned and marched to the stairs, Jovana following. Kajkowski obediently trailed them.

“Come and show me where you put him,” the Witch said. “And let’s see if there’s anything left.”

Jovana didn’t know how far she would be allowed to go; she’d not been allowed past the pool since she’d been brought here. She decided not to say anything, hoping that the bitch would be distracted enough to forget about her.

The Witch led them along the path that ran from the house, past the pool and through the gardens to the metal gate that led to the cabin and beyond to the mangroves. Her skin began to crawl as she approached the gate and she didn’t know if it was from fear of the swamp or recalling the trauma of what they had done to her in that shed. Godek must have seen the change in her because as he moved forward to open the gate for the Witch, he gave Jovana a cruel smile. She looked away from him and clutched her arms protectively around her body.

“What about her?” Kajkowski asked.

“She can come,” the Witch replied. “She can see what you have done, too.”

The three of them moved through the gate – the Witch, Kajkowski and Jovana – then along the path through the swamp bounded by the cyclone-mesh fence. Jovana clutched herself a little tighter as they got close to the cabin. What if she and the man had left signs that they had been there? Could there be anything she’d left behind that would betray her? She went rigid as the Witch pushed the door open and turned on the light.

Jovana stayed outside, directing her gaze out into the swamp. Then she saw some strands of rope, the ends torn and frayed, dangling from the wire mesh where he had been hanging. Below that, outside the fence, there was one long strand that disappeared into the reeds and mud. She didn’t remember there being anything left in the fence. She was sure that when she’d cut the rope, the man had pulled himself free from the fence and all the rope fell away, apart from the strands that remained bound around his wrists. It had been so dark, she could easily be mistaken. But had he returned here after he’d left her? Had he laid out these ropes and trashed the bedroom to incriminate Godek? She smiled to herself as she connected the dots.

“Look!” she cried. “There … on the fence.”

The Night Witch emerged immediately, Kajkowski standing sheepishly behind her.

“Up there.” Jovana pointed. “And there, too.”

The Night Witch took a deep breath and then released it slowly. When she turned to Godek, Jovana was strangely fearful for him. The Witch had a way of making people feel that way.

“So, perhaps you’d like to inspect your handiwork,” the Witch began. “What do you think has become of him?”

Kajkowski pulled the rope clear of the mesh. It was about eighteen inches long, still damp from the rain although it was slowly steaming dry in the early-morning heat. There was a faint pinkish tinge to it that suggested blood watered down by rain. The ends were ragged and looked to have been torn apart.

“Well?”

It was obvious that Kajkowski was proud of his savagery and sick of pretending to be a naughty schoolboy. His attitude hardened.

“Well, what I think is that I took care of a problem for you … something you would have told me to do sooner or later anyway. Before or after your meeting, it makes no difference. The crocs tore that motherfucker from the fence and dragged him back in the swamp where he belongs. By now he’s either eaten or rotting in their meat stash. He got what he deserved. Now, let me get on with my fucking job, which is to make sure none of those chinks are coming here to kill you!”

Alex Morgan stepped out of the hire car, surveying the area around him. A clear blue sky above and a warm breeze wafting in from the sea gave him a sense of well-being. He felt buoyed by his alliance with George Hemsworth and AJ Armstrong, both of whom were crucial to his plan. This was quite literally to be a sea, air and land take down, a fitting tribute to his friend and former US Navy SEAL, Commander David Sutherland. It made Morgan feel as though Sutherland were still by his side. That very thought gave Morgan the strength and resolve to do what had to be done to take down the Night Witch and whoever else he was going up against. The fight had returned to him. He was absolutely clear on what he had to do and why. He would avenge Sutherland’s murder and then return to Elizabeth Reigns. Nothing was going to get in the way of him achieving those two things.

Morgan was parked on the edge of the mangroves in a secluded spot about a mile from the villa, where he couldn’t be seen from the road. The first phase of the plan was all about timing. Surprise was a key principle of war and Morgan needed to capitalize on it as much as possible, leaving the Night Witch little or no time to react or adjust. About twenty minutes earlier, AJ Armstrong, who Morgan had installed at the airport, had confirmed that Dariusz and a couple of Americans had arrived. They were picked up by one of Kajkowski’s crew in a Mercedes sedan and were heading for the villa.

Morgan opened the CCTV app he’d set up on the smartphone George had given him and checked the current status of the cameras at the villa. As expected, they hadn’t been used since his demonstration to Voloshyn last night. He took the opportunity to carry out a last-minute scan then shut the system down completely. Every camera was now offline and he knew Kajkowski didn’t have the first clue how to bring them back up. He jumped back into the car, reversed out on to the road and headed straight for the villa, speed-dialing a number.

“It’s me,” he said.

“I know it’s you. I gave you the phone, you pillock!”

Morgan laughed. “All right, George. AJ’s confirmed that the Chinese crew is on the way to the house. You all set?”

“All set,” Hemsworth replied. “And ready for anything.”

“Good man. Ninety minutes, OK?”

“Roger that. Nine-zero minutes.”

“See you soon.”

Seconds later Morgan pulled up to the front gate of the Night Witch’s villa and one of the local guards walked straight up to him, an M16 slung over the guy’s shoulder. When he reached the driver’s window and recognized Morgan he looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“She’s expecting me,” Morgan said bluntly. The guard just stood there, shocked, not knowing what to do or say. “You want me to call her? She’s not going to be very happy with you. Her guests are about five minutes behind me.”

After a few more seconds, the guard finally fell for the bluff and pushed the heavy metal gates back. Morgan drove casually through, circled the fountain and parked up near the house.

He knocked on the front door. The housekeeper who’d been used to lure him out of his room last night appeared. For a moment Morgan was sure she was about to faint but she managed to hold her ground.

“Your mistress may be a little surprised to see me,” he began calmly. “So how about I just go upstairs without too much fuss and let her know I’m here myself? That sound OK?”

Morgan couldn’t swear to it, but he was sure that he saw the hint of a twinkle in the old girl’s eyes as she stood aside to let him in. She pointed to the mezzanine landing. Morgan began the steady climb up the staircase, holding on to the rail and pulling himself up to spare his damaged leg too much effort. The last thing he needed was for that to start giving him problems now. He knew that once things really got going then the adrenalin would kick in and get him over the line.

Kajkowski rushed onto the landing, immediately followed by Voloshyn. Both of them could barely mask their disbelief.

“What the fuck?” Kajkowski exclaimed.

“We thought you were dead,” Voloshyn said. “When they rang from the gate to say you’d arrived …”

“Good afternoon,” Morgan replied. “Well, I’m very pleased to report that I’m not dead yet. I hope I haven’t disturbed your lunch?”

“But what are you doing here? How did you …?”

“Are you kidding me? The amount of money you offered me to do this job, I couldn’t allow a little issue like your man there trying to have me eaten alive to get in the way, now, could I?”

“We don’t have time for this!” Kajkowski yelled. “This fuck should be dead!” He made a ham-fisted attempt to draw the Magnum from under his jacket and lunge at Morgan at the same time, once again relying on his bulk to intimidate. But it worked against him. When the perfect opportunity presented itself Morgan reacted seamlessly.

He dropped into a low crouch, braced against the heavy ornamental balustrade, and coiled his body like a spring. As the Pole barreled down the stairs with the Magnum in one hand and the other reaching out, Morgan sprang upward, using the man’s own momentum to advantage. It was a gift. He grabbed Kajkowski’s gun hand around the wrist, pivoted so that his back would take the load and then, with a twist and flick, heaved Kajkowski up and over the balustrade, sending him tumbling ten feet down onto the ceramic-tiled floor.

He landed with a thud and a loud crack. While Voloshyn watched, Morgan dropped straight back down the stairs to check the damage. The Pole was dazed and blood was spilling from a deep gash on the back of his head. Morgan saw his own Beretta jutting from the gangster’s belt and retrieved it.

“I think you and I are through talking now, Gorbachev. I’m here to speak to your boss. Just rest there quietly for a while and try not to make too much mess.”

Somewhere upstairs, probably the dining room where Morgan knew Voloshyn was planning to have the meeting, a phone was ringing.

“That’ll be your guard at the front gate telling you that the Chinese have driven in,” said Morgan. “I expect they’re pulling up right now, just the other side of that door.”

Voloshyn stood frozen with indecision.

“So, am I working or not?” he pressed her. “We don’t have long.”

There was a knock on the door.

“Very well,” she replied. “Get him out of sight and answer that!”