Breaking: Fall or Break, Book 2 (21 page)

“All you have to do to make this stop is tell us the truth,” said the phone guy. “Who do you work for?”

“Fuck. Off,” Archer managed.

Blows struck his face, ears, his ribs, his back. He kept his mouth shut, his jaw closed and his tongue well inside his mouth. He tried to move with the flow of the punches as best he could, but with the wind knocked out of him, his body was in shock and unable to respond. Those holding him finally allowed him to fall and as he curled up, they kicked him. Pain layered on pain until he could barely breathe, see or even think. They knew what they were doing, knew how far to go, when to pull back to ask their questions, or rather tell him the answers they wanted him to give. He felt as if his heart hovered on the brink of explosion.

The beating stopped, gradually pain released its hold and the voice began to make sense again.

“We know it was you. You filled several accounts with the proceeds of the hits. Demor Lomidze is paying you. Admit it.”

Archer had no idea who Demor Lomidze was. It sounded like a Georgian name but he’d never heard it before.

“Fine, be an idiot.”

He was hauled upright and the guy who’d done most of the punching put all his force behind the blow to Archer’s stomach. He just had time to expel a breath as he doubled up. The muscles of his entire body contracted as he tumbled into a level of deeper pain. Questions followed beatings followed questions and he didn’t speak. He felt like a toy being ripped apart by rough boys. In those moments when pain subsided enough for him to think, Archer tried to make sense of what was happening but he couldn’t. When the world went dark, he welcomed the chance to slip away for a while but they always brought him back.

Despite his best efforts, he’d bitten his tongue. A coppery tang filled his mouth. Blood dripped from a cut on his forehead and trickled into his eyes. Pain consumed him. His heart raced so fast he hovered in and out of consciousness.

“You killed Mehmoud Nader in Beirut. Jose Callas in Caracas. Farouk bin Abdullazin in Paris. Gregor Kipiani in Tiblisi. All arms dealers. Who’s next on the list? Who’s paying you? Is it Lomidze?”

If he admitted anything, he was dead, he knew that. He was probably dead anyway so why say a word?
Because then it will stop hurting, fuckwit.
He hadn’t killed Gregor Kipiani. Another Georgian name. That was probably significant but he hurt too much to think.

The guy with the phone walked forward. “My son,” he said and spat at Archer. “Gregor was my son.”

Archer knew he was definitely dead. Only a matter of time. He thought about Conrad. Then stopped himself thinking about Conrad.

“I didn’t kill your son,” he mumbled.

“You killed him for Lomidze,” Kipiani shouted.

“No. I don’t know anyone called Lomidze.”

“Why don’t we just kill him?” one of the guys asked.

“Because I want to hear him say it. I need proof before I post him to Lomidze in pieces.”

When they sat him on a chair and tied him to it, Archer’s already overworked heart stuttered. Everyone had a breaking point. There would come a moment when he’d give in and say whatever they wanted. He wasn’t superhuman. But he’d fucked up his life the day he’d said yes to Conrad’s father, and he was damned if he was going to go down without a fight.

The chair was tipped backward and a wet towel slapped over his face.
Oh shit.
Cold water poured over the towel onto his mouth and he sucked to draw liquid between parched lips even as the amount of water grew too much to cope with and all he was pulling into his mouth and lungs was water and not air. He swallowed and swallowed and began to choke, jerking against his bonds as he fought to drag air into his lungs. There was no air.

Archer sensed himself drowning but before his world faded completely, he was wrenched upright, the chair legs banging onto the concrete floor. The towel was removed and he sucked oxygen in between coughing and retching. The only other time he’d been waterboarded was when he’d been in training. It had been done to show them how effective it was. Chris had lasted longer than anyone. Stubbornness wasn’t always a good thing. Determination had ended up killing him.

“We can keep doing this all night,” said Kipiani.

Remember what this guy looks like.
Mid-fifties. Thick dark curly hair. Long straight nose too big for his face. Dark eyes. Too far away to see the color. Shoes shiny enough to see your reflection.
Who am I going to tell that to?
He mustered a frustrated laugh from somewhere.

He paid for that with another near drowning. His body spasmed in fits of coughing, then he couldn’t even cough and on the point of expiration, he was hauled upright.

“Admit everything. Tell us the name of your paymaster and this will stop.”

Admit to something he didn’t do and his world would stop. All he had to cling to was defiance and Conrad’s face. He held on to both and drowned.

Chapter Nineteen

Conrad rang the bell of Sev’s apartment and tapped his foot as he stared into the entry system camera. “Hurry up,” he muttered.

“What are you doing here?” Sev asked. “You’re supposed to be taking things easy.”

“Well they got hard. I need help.”

The door release clicked and Conrad pushed it open. Deefor followed him inside and they climbed the stairs to the first floor.

Sev stood at his door. “You have a dog?”

“Nothing slips past you, does it?”

“Don’t crap on my carpet.”

“I’ll try not to.”

Conrad slumped onto Sev’s couch and sank into soft cushions. His back and legs were killing him.

“Coffee?” Sev asked.

“Please.”

Sev brought back two mugs. “I put a bowl of water down for Fido.”

“His name’s Deefor.”

Sev settled on the chair opposite. Conrad liked the guy. He was a few years older than him, ex-military intelligence and sharp as a tack.

“Don’t leave anything out,” Sev said.

Conrad started the day he pulled Archer out of the sea and told him everything. Almost. He didn’t think Sev needed to know about the sex. Sev listened without interrupting.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Conrad said. “Who I can trust. How high up this goes.”

“Jesus, Conrad.”

“I know.” He dragged his fingers through his hair and massaged the nape of his neck.

Sev leaned forward. “You’re unlikely to still be at risk from the London gang. I suspect the word will be that it was a home invasion gone wrong. Either the gang will implode now that four have died, including the leader, or those left will be too busy scrambling for control to bother about you. It won’t be difficult to find out either way. I don’t see any danger coming from there. But the business with Archer and your father and the SIS and arms dealers…shit, that’s heavy stuff. You can’t go home. You shouldn’t use your phone. I hope it’s switched off.”

Conrad nodded.

“I’ll give you another. You can sleep in my spare room until this is sorted.”

“
I
have to sort it.”

Sev gave a short laugh. “What the fuck are you going to do?”

“That’s why I came to you. I have to find Archer.”

“He could be anywhere. Your father’s right. He’s either run or he’s dead. If he isn’t, he soon will be.”

A muscle twitched in Conrad’s cheek. “You have people you can ask.”

“Jesus, Conrad. You have no idea. Arms dealers? The SIS? You have to just sit back and wait.”

“I can’t do that.”

“He’s probably fine.”

“Probably dead. Probably fine. Right.” Conrad glared.

“If he wants to get in touch, he will.”

Conrad bristled. “He doesn’t know what the fuck he wants.”

He and Sev sat staring at each other.

Finally Sev sighed and leaned forward. “Have you heard of the Increment?”

Conrad shook his head.

“E Squadron?”

“No.”

“Two names for the same thing. An unconfirmed cadre of Special Forces operatives who work on behalf of the SIS. Black ops.”

“Deniable by the government if they’re compromised.”

Sev nodded. “Sounds like that’s what Archer was part of. Largely made up of Special Air and Special Boat Service personnel but also manned by operatives from the Intelligence Corps. There’s a couple of people I can call but I don’t know if they’ll talk to me about this even if they do know something.”

“Try. Please.”

Sev stepped into another room and Conrad wondered what to do if he had no luck. Walk into the SIS building next to the Thames and demand to see the person in charge? Probably a way to never come out again. Yet maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. If he washed, shaved and wore a suit, he’d have a better chance of speaking to someone important.

Despite Sev’s warning, he took out his phone and called his father. He’d been trying him and then Archer ever since he began to drive to London but there was never any answer. When he heard his father’s voice he almost dropped the phone.

“Hello,” his father said.

“Can you talk?”

“Yes.”

“Have you heard from Archer?”

“No.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“No.”

Conrad crumpled. “Are you trying to find him?”

“Yes, but—”

“Don’t you dare tell me he’s probably dead.”

“Conrad, just stay calm and wait. There’s nothing you can do. Leave it to the experts.”

“Experts? The ones who dragged him into this mess in the first place? He’s not safe until whoever sent him to make those hits is caught.”

He ended the call but didn’t switch off his phone in case Archer tried to contact him.

When Sev came back, Conrad stood.

“Sit down. I’m not a fucking miracle worker.”

Conrad slumped back onto the couch. He refused offers of food and drink and closed his eyes. If his mind raced any faster, he’d take off.

He jerked awake when Sev shook him, amazed he’d fallen asleep.

“One of my contacts heard rumors of something going down in Oxfordshire. No details yet. He’s still checking.” He handed Conrad a phone. “The number won’t show up on the phone you call and they can’t get you back by pressing redial.”

When Conrad started to press the buttons, Sev caught his wrist. “Who are you calling?”

“Archer.”

“Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Think about it. If he’d been able to call you, he would have. If he’s being held and they answer, they might try to convince you that you can help him but you can’t. They’ll use you against him, assuming he’s not—”

“He’s alive,” Conrad said.

He sat staring at Sev’s phone, willing it to ring. When it finally did, he froze. Sev checked who it was and put it on speaker.

“What have you got?” Sev asked.

“Georgians. Be careful. Derelict workshop in Limehouse. Dock Street. Loading doors open onto Limehouse Cut. That’s all I know. And you fucking owe me.”

“Thanks.” Sev ended the call.

“Is that where Archer is?”

“Possibly.”

“How did you find out? How could you find out and my father couldn’t?”

Sev didn’t answer.

“You think my father knows?”

“I don’t know. Possibly not yet. The guy who told me is undercover.”

“We can’t wait. We need to go now.”

“You’re not going.”

“You think you can stop me?” Conrad snapped.

Sev sighed. He reached into a closet, pulled out two protective vests and handed one to Conrad. “Bullet resistant. Not bulletproof. You’re not a bad employer. Might as well keep my income stream intact but you stay outside. Understand?”

Conrad nodded.

“I mean it. You’re a liability. You could get me killed.” Sev turned to Deefor. “Don’t climb on my bed.”

The dog ran straight into the bedroom and Sev groaned. “Another guy who doesn’t listen to
don’t
?”

Conrad put the vest on under his Barbour, fastened the straps with shaking fingers and followed Sev out of the flat as the guy talked on the phone, presumably calling in reinforcements.

“And the police,” Conrad said when they reached the parking area in the basement.

“I don’t think so.”

“I’d rather Archer was in their hands.”

“Let’s see what we find when we get there. We don’t want the situation confused.”

Limehouse was no more than ten minutes away but Conrad suspected his ribs would be cracked by the violent pounding of his heart before they reached their destination.

A black Hummer sat at the front of the boarded-up building.

Sev parked on a side street. “Don’t move until I find out what’s happening.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it, Conrad. This could be a wild goose chase.”

As soon as Sev headed toward the canal at the rear of the warehouse, Conrad left the car, made for the opposite corner and called his father.

“It’s me. Can you talk?”

“Yes.”

“You sound like you’re in a car.”

“I’m on my way to London.”

“Can you find out who owns this vehicle?” Conrad read the number out.

“Why?”

“I think they have Archer.”

“Conrad, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m standing next to a disused workshop on Dock Street in Limehouse. That’s the license plate of a black Hummer parked outside. I have reason to believe Archer’s inside the building. Sev’s gone in to find out. He has backup on the way.”

“For goodness… Don’t follow him. I’ll get help.”

“What? A cavalry that doesn’t arrive in time? How do you know who you can trust? I’ll do this myself.”

“Conrad, don’t be stupid. Why did you tell me if you don’t want me to help?”

“In case…”
Oh fuck.

Conrad ended the call. Sev had told him to wait but fuck that. He headed for the boarded-up front door. When he reached it, he saw it had been forced open and stood slightly ajar. It had to be the way they’d gained access. Conrad slipped through and stood still. He heard faint voices and followed the sounds.

There was enough light pouring through the dirty windows in the high-ceilinged room for him to see where he was going but when he’d followed the sounds to a set of stone stairs curling down into darkness, he hesitated. He was desperate to help Archer but he wasn’t stupid. Firstly, he didn’t know for certain Archer was here. Even if he was, unless Conrad could fool these guys, he was a liability. He heard a man cry out, thought it could have been Archer and tensed, but he didn’t go down the steps.

His heart was telling him to do something, but his brain urged caution. He moved behind a pile of wooden benches and crouched down. If he suddenly appeared, they’d at least stop hurting Archer, assuming that’s what they were doing. Maybe if he interfered, it would give his father time to get someone here. Maybe if he interfered it would get him and Archer killed, maybe Sev too.
Shit.

He heard another loud cry, convinced himself it
was
Archer, and the lump in his throat threatened to choke him.
How can I just sit here?
But on the point of making for the stairs, he heard a footfall and spotted a tall thin guy zipping up his pants, and moving toward the door Conrad had used to gain access.
Fuck. Now I’m trapped.
The only reason he’d got in unobserved was because the guy on guard had gone to take a piss.

A bang on the front door made both him and the guy jump. Conrad poked his head around the side of the benches to see Sev pushing his way inside.

“This is private property,” said the man.

“Yeah it is. My property,” Sev replied. “I own this building. What the fuck are you doing inside it?”

“We won’t be here long.” The guy put his hand inside his jacket pocket and, fearing he was going for a gun, Conrad flung himself forward, bowled him over and in the process almost knocked himself out.

By the time he’d pulled himself together, Sev had the guy secured at the wrists and ankles with cable ties, duct tape over his mouth.

“Don’t move,” Sev snarled.

Conrad would have liked to think that had been directed at the guy but Sev’s glare was aimed at him. The front door opened again and four big men slipped inside holding guns. They nodded at Sev, and Conrad felt a glimmer of hope. Two of the guys eased down the stairs, the other two and Sev headed for the rear of the building. Conrad found it impossible to just sit. He picked up a chair leg from the floor and followed the guys down the stairs.

At the bottom he was faced by a corridor with doors on either side, a larger door at the end that Sev’s guys were heading toward. One turned and looked at him, gesturing for him to go back. Conrad took two steps back but turned again when the men broke open the door. All he could hear then was shouting and cries of “Drop it! Get face down!” He felt as if he’d been caught up in some violent computer game except this danger was real.

He gripped the piece of wood more tightly and made his way down the corridor. On the other side of the door was a large windowless space with a flagstone floor, and in the middle Archer sat on a chair, tied by his legs with his arms secured behind his back. He wasn’t moving and his head hung down. There was water everywhere and a hose lay at his feet next to a wet towel.
Oh fuck.

Oblivious to the struggles going on around him, Conrad made straight for him. Archer was soaked to the skin and so cold Conrad thought for a moment he might be dead, but then Archer opened his eyes. Relief made him lightheaded.

“I’m getting fed up of saving your arse.” Conrad dropped the wood and pulled at the knots. “It better be worth it.”

Archer looked terrible, yet he still managed to smile. He was breathing in shallow gasps and alternating between trembling with such violence it seemed he’d fall apart, and not moving at all. Conrad needed a knife. The water had made the rope swell and he couldn’t get Archer free. He picked up the piece of wood and froze as a gun clicked next to his ear.

“Drop it.”

Conrad tightened his grip. “You have no right to detain my client in this way.” He straightened, turned so his back was to Archer and took in the situation in the room at a glance.
Shit. Not good.
Sev and another guy were being held at gunpoint. Others were lying unconscious.

“Drop the wood,” the man repeated.

Conrad tossed it down. He couldn’t bat away a bullet.

An older guy in a long dark coat walked forward. “Thank you so much for coming. I think you might just be what we need to persuade Archer to tell us the truth.”

“Nothing said under duress is admissible.” Conrad swallowed when the man moved a few steps back, still pointing the gun straight at him.

Conrad doubted he’d survive a bullet in the chest from this distance, even wearing the vest. Except this man didn’t want to kill him. Not yet.

Delay.
His father would have help on the way. “What’s all this about?” he asked.

“What’s it to be, Archer?” the older man asked. “You ready to talk now or shall I ask Ravi to slice off your boyfriend’s balls? I’ll be kind and tell him to do it one at a time.”

Damn. Slight miscalculation.

“Let him go.” Archer’s voice was thin and faint.