Dance With the Enemy (12 page)

Logan was facing away from where the woman’s voice had come from. Ignoring the demand to drop his gun, he began to stand, turning as he did so to get a look at his new company.

‘I said drop the weapon!’ she shouted.

‘Easy, I’m just standing up,’ he said, not attempting to stop.

He completed his turn and took in the woman standing just a few yards away from him, holding her gun high, two hands around the butt. She was about six or maybe as much as nine inches shorter than Logan, and wearing a tight-fitting, deep-brown skirt suit with a white blouse underneath. Even if she hadn’t already said so, ninety-nine times out a hundred he would have said she was FBI. The American accent together with the stuffy clothes and the gun stance gave her away. She was also attractive, with silky dark hair held back away from her face, tanned skin and deep brown eyes.

‘You’re a little far from home, aren’t you?’ Logan said.

‘Just drop the weapon and step away from that man,’ she said. ‘Or I
will
shoot you.’ Her voice was calm and assured.

‘He’s dead already,’ Logan said, still not making any attempt to do as he was told. ‘Or at least he will be soon enough. And I didn’t do it.’

‘Sure you didn’t. Just drop the gun. Last chance now.’

She didn’t appear fazed by the situation at all. He had no doubt that if he gave her a reason, she would fulfil her word and shoot him. He tossed the Beretta over to her. It skated along the floor, resting just a few inches from her feet. She didn’t make any move to pick it up. Just carried on pointing her gun at him.

‘Now what?’ Logan said, taking a step towards her. ‘Are you going to arrest me? You’re a little out of your jurisdiction, aren’t you?’

‘Just stop there!’ she snapped.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘What are you doing holding that gun at me? The man who killed this guy just sped off. Shouldn’t you be off after him?’

‘Who are you?’ she said again.

‘My name’s Carl Logan.’

‘Are you police?’

‘No.’

‘Intelligence?’

‘About average.’

‘Not what I meant.’

‘The answer’s no.’

‘Really? So, you’re just a concerned citizen?’

‘I’d be less concerned if you stopped pointing that gun at me.’

‘That would be a bit foolish of me, don’tcha think?’

‘I guess. What are
you
doing here anyway? Were you following this guy?’ Logan pointed to Johnny. ‘Or the guy who did that to him?’ He took another two steps towards her.

‘I’m serious,’ she said, ignoring his questions. ‘One more step and the first bullet is going in your gut. Have you any idea how painful that is?’

‘Maybe. Have you?’

‘No. But I’m not the one who’s going to get it.’

‘I’m assuming you
were
following them. So who are you looking for? Blakemore?’

She didn’t respond. She also didn’t react at all to the name.

‘Frank Modena then?’

Of course it was. It was amazing how often people’s eyes gave them away without them having to say a word.

‘You know, we’re on the same team,’ Logan said.

‘And what team is it you think we’re on?’

‘I’m just out to get the bad guys too.’

She laughed sarcastically. ‘If we’re on the same team then you won’t mind accompanying me to my command centre so we can check you out.’

‘Well, actually I would mind that.’

‘And why is that, Carl?’

‘Because your command centre won’t know who I am. And my boss would be very disappointed with me.’

‘So you
are
intelligence?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

Logan heard several sets of footsteps moving fast, getting louder as they approached the car park entrance above.

‘Police! Police!’ came the shouts.

Just what I need
, Logan thought.

‘Looks like you’re in a bit of a pickle, Carl.’

He turned around, looking back at the ramp. They weren’t yet in the car park, but judging by the shouts, they must have been close. He didn’t have long.

‘Look, you can’t let the police arrest me,’ he said, speaking with a bit more urgency. ‘I’m getting too close. You’re here for Modena, right? The dead guy, he was working for the man who has Modena. I’m sure of it. You have to trust me.’

Her eyes practically lit up as he spoke about Modena. But without waiting for her to respond, he reached out, thrusting his hand around her gun. She squeezed on the trigger several times, but he’d pushed her aim away from him. The bullets sailed harmlessly into the air, lodging in the concrete roof of the car park. He twisted her arm around, moved himself forward and pulled her towards him until her back was pressed up against him. His right arm was now wrapped around her, smothering her gun arm.

‘I’ve got to get out of here,’ he said.

His superior size and strength had made it relatively easy for him to pull her into the position. He should have been able to prise the gun out of her hands without much effort. But maybe he’d misjudged her. She was an FBI agent, after all. He should have known that she would be trained for situations like this. And trained to deal with targets that were bigger and stronger than she was.

She let go of her gun, freeing her arm in the process, ducked down and threw her right heel into his groin, propelling herself away from him.

The move surprised Logan, but only for a second. His groin was on fire and the pain seemed to reach all the way up to his stomach, but he fought through it. He corrected his grip on her gun and aimed it at her. But in the intervening seconds, she
had picked up his Beretta from the ground and was pointing it directly at him.

Stalemate. Again.

‘I’ve been in this situation already today,’ Logan said. ‘The other guys didn’t fare so well.’

‘I’ll take my chances,’ she said. A picture of cool, still.

‘I’ve got to get out of here,’ Logan said. ‘You can come with me if you want. All I want is Modena. Just trust me. Don’t let the police arrest me.’

‘Police!’ came the shout again.

The steps were getting louder, but they were also slowing down. Logan glanced quickly to his left and saw the legs of half a dozen policemen appearing at the top of the ramp, creeping slowly down.

‘Police. Stop or we’ll shoot!’

Logan had no doubt that they would, too. Several shots had already been fired in the car park so the police knew their targets were armed.

‘Come on, we’ve got to go,’ Logan shouted as he moved towards the agent.

He lowered the gun and stepped past her to the stairwell. If she had wanted to, she could have shot him. But she didn’t.

The French police weren’t as forgiving, though. A gunshot rang out. The bullet hit only a couple of yards from Logan, lodging in the back wall of the car park as he ran for the exit. Logan and the agent both instinctively ducked.

But it wasn’t enough to stop Logan. And as he reached the door, he couldn’t help but smile when he glanced around to see the FBI agent following him out.

Logan ran up the stairs, the FBI agent just a few steps behind him. They came up onto a quiet back street. There were few pedestrians around and little traffic, but they still both instinctively hid their weapons from view.

‘This is a really bad idea, you know,’ she said to him. ‘How I am expected to explain this?’

‘Look, I’m getting too close to spend the night in a cell,’ Logan said. ‘We need to get away from here. I’ll explain everything afterwards. Do you have a car?’

‘Yeah, it’s this way,’ she said, and ran off to the right.

There was a chance that she would lead him straight back to the police. But for now, Logan would trust her. He didn’t have many other options. It would be easier to persuade a lone FBI agent that he was one of the good guys than it would a whole team of armed police.

Logan headed after her and she stopped at a blue Ford hatchback parked just down from where they’d come out of the car park. She clicked on her remote and got into the driver’s seat. Logan moved around to the passenger side, put his hand on the handle. But it was locked. She looked at him through the window, as if contemplating whether or not to let him in. He gave her a pleading look. Finally she relented and unlocked the door for him.

‘Very funny,’ he said to her as he got into the car.

As he sat down in the passenger seat they exchanged their guns, which had been switched during the fracas, without saying a word to each other. She pulled away from the kerb
and started off down the street at a leisurely pace, low revs, no burning rubber. Logan looked behind. There was no sign of any police following them, so he was content that going at a normal speed was the best option. It was less likely to draw attention.

She took her eyes off the road for a second and looked over at him, her dark eyes staring as though she was trying to read his mind. It made him feel uncomfortable, almost a little embarrassed.

‘So what now?’ she said to him. ‘Why are you even running from the police? If we’re on the same team, you should be working with them.’

‘You’re telling me the FBI like to share their cases?’

‘No, we don’t. But we disclose our presence when necessary.’

‘Like you did in the car park just then?’

She didn’t respond to that. He knew the FBI, the police, intelligence agencies, whoever, were all the same in that respect. They pretended to be helping each other when it suited them, but when it came down to it, no-one really had the slightest idea what the other was up to. And they all wanted to be the ones to get the credit for bringing the bad guys down.

Except in the case of the JIA: the only credit their agents were likely to get was internal. Few people in the outside world even knew the JIA existed.

‘Just drive,’ Logan said. ‘Keep going until we’re well away.’

‘And then what?’

‘Just keep going.’

Logan heard the sirens before he saw the flashing lights. As they came to a stop at the next set of lights, two police cars came into view about a hundred yards behind them.

‘Go!’ Logan shouted.

‘Why are we even running? Why don’t you just tell them what you’ve told me? That you claim to be on the
same team
.’

He didn’t have time for this. Logan pulled out his gun and aimed it at her head, the barrel only inches from her face. ‘I’m sorry. But just go. Now.’

She didn’t move. Just stared at him, anger etched on her face. The police sirens got louder.

‘You won’t shoot,’ she said, calling his bluff. ‘Why would you shoot me? Whoever you are, that would just get you into a
really
big mess.’

She wasn’t wrong. He had no intention of shooting her. But he wasn’t going to let himself get caught by the police either. Even if Mackie was able to pull the strings to get him free, it would surely be the end of his involvement on the case. Most likely it would be the end of his career with the JIA. The spotlight was well and truly on him, and the only outcome that he could contemplate was the one which saw him safely returning Modena. And felling Selim.

He opened his window, stuck his arm out and began firing at the fast-approaching police cars. His shots had been aimed to miss and they all did, sailing harmlessly into the tarmac. But they were enough to panic one of the drivers, who swerved, scraping into the other police car before mounting the pavement and crashing into a brick wall.

‘What the hell is wrong with you?!’ the FBI agent screamed.

The other police car, the driver probably spooked at being shot at, came to a stop in the middle of the road. Its occupants dived out, drawing their guns and hiding behind their open car doors for cover.

‘Well, I guess they’re probably going to be after both of us now,’ Logan said, giving her a wry smile. ‘It’s not like they know who you are, either. I suggest we get going now.’

‘Fuck you,’ she said.

She opened her door and went to get out. But as she did so, a gunshot rang out, the bullet hitting somewhere on the back of their car. Both of them jumped at the unexpected attack from the police. The agent quickly retreated back inside, slamming shut her door. Pedestrians on the road around them screamed, some falling to the ground for cover, others aimlessly running to try to find safety.

‘Like I said, looks like they’re after both of us now,’ Logan said. ‘Let’s just get out of here.’

With her face like a storm and without saying another word, the FBI agent relented and put the car into gear. The lights were still on red but she stepped on the accelerator, hard, and the car pulled forward, pushing them both back into their seats. A driver coming across the junction had to slam on the brakes of his car to avoid hitting them. But the FBI agent didn’t even seem to notice. She just pushed down harder and the engine whirred and whined as the car accelerated away from the stationary police cars.

Within seconds they were approaching a heady speed for the cramped inner-city streets. Logan braced himself, clenching his fists as the needle on the speedometer edged past fifty, then sixty miles an hour. When they approached the next junction, the lights were on red. Logan thought that the agent was about to ease off the speed. But instead she pushed even harder on the accelerator.

The needle passed seventy as they raced through the red light. Logan saw why she had sped up when a police car came careening around the corner in front of them, lights flashing and siren wailing. It went hurtling past them before the driver realised that his target had already gone past. Logan could hear screeching tyres behind him as the police car driver attempted to turn around. For just a second, Logan thought they might make it through the junction unscathed. But as they went through the intersection, another police car came flying at them.

With no time to react, they were powerless as the police car side-swiped the speeding Ford, sending them into a relentless spin. Logan’s head smacked off the passenger window. At one point it felt like the car was clean off the ground, floating through the air. The car then came to a sudden stop, crashing into another vehicle that had come to a skidding stop in the junction, snapping Logan back into his seat, sending a shock of pain down his neck and spine.

It took both Logan and the FBI agent a few seconds to recover from the impact, and to work out what had actually happened. And then a few more to figure out in which direction they were now facing.

The scene in front of them was one of carnage, with broken glass and mangled car parts – metal, glass and plastic – all over the road. At least half a dozen cars had been shunted or had shunted others as one by one they tried too late to avoid the pile-up. In many ways, Logan knew they’d been lucky, though. There been only the slightest of contact with the police car, right on the back corner of their car. It if had been a full-on collision at that speed, no-one would have walked away from the crash.

‘Just keep going!’ Logan shouted.

This time, there was no hesitation. As soon as he spoke, they were moving again.

Logan looked behind him. The police car that had hit them
was in the distance, at a stop. Steam rose from its crumpled bonnet. They were going nowhere like that. The level of damage couldn’t have been from hitting the Ford, though, so it must have hit something else after it swiped them. And there was enough mangled wreckage on the intersection for it to be at least temporarily blocked.

For now, it looked like Logan and the FBI agent were home and dry.