No Man's Land - A Russell Carter Thriller (30 page)

19

A hundred and thirty feet above Erina and Carter, Alex once again stood on the narrow, open lookout on top of the pylon. He was looking west down the harbor toward the waterside suburb of East Balmain, waiting.

Zaheed and Putu stood on either side of him, wearing full Australian Tactical Response Unit uniforms concealing vests stuffed with C4 explosives. One carried a Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine gun, the other a Mossberg 500 pump-action shotgun.

Alex ran his fingers along the smooth scabbard of his beloved samurai sword, the Drying Pole. The beautiful two-handed sword, made famous by the master samurai Sasaki Kojiro, was roughly five feet long and designed to hang from the waist. According to legend the blade embodied the soul of the warrior who possessed it.

With studied reverence he unsheathed the weapon with his right hand. Spots of rain glistened off the polished blade. He held it in front of his face and pointed it upright, the top of the handle level with his chin, searching for his image on the naked blade, but the angle of the light made it impossible.

Taking great care, he placed the sword on top of the low ledge that encircled the balcony. The ledge was chest-height, and was the only barrier against a fall of nearly three hundred feet to the ground below. On the south-east pylon, whose rooftop lookout was open to the public, there was a clear plastic shield to protect visitors, but no such protection was offered here.

He’d use the ledge later that night to good effect, when he met Carter and Erina face to face.

Reaching into the thigh pocket of his trousers, he extracted a tablet computer. During the day he’d run a cable up to the lookout and connected it to a router, allowing him to link his tablet wirelessly to the pylon’s security cameras.

He checked the screen and pressed Camera B.

Sure enough, the shadowy images of Carter and Erina filled the screen. They were climbing the stairs from the deck of the bridge to level one. Carter held an automatic weapon and Erina a handgun.

He picked up his phone and dialed the number of Hazeem, the leader of his second unit. The group of three were in position on the bridge, waiting behind the south-east pylon for his signal.

They’d trained on Batak Island with Samudra and himself for eight months and had been working with the Sydney cell based in Lakemba.

“The targets have made their entrance,” Alex said. “Move the men into position in two minutes.”

“Yes, sir.”

Alex clicked off.

The endgame, when he had his target helpless and cornered, ready for the kill, was always his favorite part of the hunt.

His thoughts turned to the men from the Sydney cell. Unlike Zaheed and Putu they had no combat experience. Under normal circumstances they’d be no match for the likes of Carter and Erina.

But this wasn’t going to be anything like a fair fight. More like shooting blind barracudas in a concrete pond.

So long as they delivered Carter and Erina, he didn’t care what happened to them.

He picked up the Drying Pole and held the blade in front of him, pointing it south-east toward the city lights. The sword was thirsty.

A thin smile spread across his face.

20

When they reached the second floor, dimly lit by overhead halogen lights, Carter motioned for Erina to check the two large rooms to their right while he covered the stairway. She reappeared a minute later and whispered, “All clear. Just a lot of stored equipment.”

They started up the stairs to the third floor, Carter leading the way, but after just a few steps, he raised his hand and stopped.

Two bodies wearing fluorescent lime-green jackets lay facedown in pools of blood on the metal landing above them. They had been shot in the back of the head, execution style.

Carter continued up the stairs, knelt beside the bodies and gently turned them over. They were men, Caucasian, in their early thirties. Their jackets carried the New South Wales Roads and Maritime Services logo. Just a couple of government workers unlucky enough to be rostered on for New Year’s Eve.

More than anything else Carter hated seeing innocent people murdered because they’d inadvertently got in some madman’s way.

He was sure Alex had used their deaths to send a message. He was waiting for them above and he wanted them to know it.

Erina stood next to him and said under her breath, “Fucking bastard.”

Carter stood up, raised the SIG to shoulder height and carried on up the stairs one deliberate step at a time, Erina’s soft tread coming half a pace behind his.

Just before they reached the third floor, he signaled for her to stop again. He leaned against the metal railing and listened, holding the SIG in front of him.

He heard nothing.

He crept up the last few stairs and then, holding his gun out in front and keeping his finger lightly on the trigger, he scanned the room.

In the center were more stairs, leading up to the lookout on the roof.

Old CCTV camera equipment, extension cords, cardboard boxes of fireworks and a pile of lime-green security jackets were heaped against the south wall.

None of that held his attention.

What did, though, were the two large sliding doors on the eastern and western sides of the room. Both were painted black. He filed the information away and kept looking around the room.

In the right-hand corner on the eastern side two open laptops sat on a wooden desk. On the floor next to it two large cardboard boxes were stacked one on top of the other. One was labelled
INFUSION CRYSTAL FOUNTAINS
, the other
PEGASUS SKYROCKETS
.

In the corner opposite the desk, on the western side, was a hooded figure sitting on a chair.

Erina moved up behind Carter. He pointed forward and signaled for her to cover his back. He wondered if the hooded figure could be a booby trap. But there was no way of knowing.

He walked to the back of the stairs and stopped a few feet from the figure. It wore black pants, a loose-fitting black jacket and dark green thongs. An executioner’s hood hung over its head. Both arms were secured behind its back around a steel pole that ran up the wall.

On closer inspection Carter noted that the feet were delicate and their toenails painted a shiny blue. He was almost certain he knew who it was.

“Vivienne?” he whispered.

The figure jerked and the hooded head nodded.

“My name’s Carter. I’m here to help. Are you wired?”

The captive shook her head.

“She could be a plant,” Erina whispered behind him.

He moved toward the girl cautiously, then reached out and felt around the hood for any detonation devices. Finding none, he peeled the hood off slowly, revealing a slightly older and edgier version of the young woman he’d seen on the wall of Callaghan’s kitchen.

She now had spiky short black hair and silver nose and eyebrow rings, but her intense dark eyes were unmistakably the same, blazing with an equal mixture of fear and defiance.

Grey electrical tape with a slit in the middle covered her mouth.

“I’m going to take the tape off,” Carter whispered. “I’ll try to be gentle, but it might sting. It’s important you remain very quiet.”

He grabbed the corner of the tape. “On the count of three.”

She nodded.

“One, two …”

He tore the tape off in one sharp movement.

“For fuck sake,” she whispered, her eyes welling from the pain. “You nearly ripped my piercing out.”

He noted a small amount of blood around a ring in her lower lip. “Sorry,” he said. “You okay otherwise?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Where’s the rest of the rescue team?”

Carter glanced over his shoulder at Erina. “We’re it.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Listen, I need you to answer some questions.”

“Aren’t you going to untie me first?”

“Be quiet and listen.”

“No way am I telling you anything until you untie me first – I’m freaking out here.”

Carter didn’t have time to waste and knew when he was beaten. He put his hands on her shoulders. “Okay. Just stay calm.”

She nodded.

He reached into his daypack and used a throwing knife to slice through the ties binding her wrists and ankles.

As she shook her arms and legs, he asked, “Do you know how many men Samudra has on the bridge?”

“Six. A South African – a real arsehole – and the two Indonesians who dragged me up here. They all had guns. Three more came an hour or so ago and left. I never saw their faces.”

“Are they on the top level?”

“I think so. People have been going up and down the stairs all night.”

“What else can you tell us?” Erina asked.

Vivienne motioned her head in the direction of the desk. “The computer on the right is linked to the surveillance cameras. The arsehole was in here for over an hour this afternoon setting it all up. You might want to check it out.”

21

Erina sat in the chair behind the computer screen. Carter stood at her shoulder with his SIG at the ready.

She hit some keys and the screen came to life. Five icons appeared –
Entrance, Level One, Level Two, Outside/Bridge Deck
and
Lookout
. Each was linked to a video-surveillance feed.

She clicked
Entrance
.

Clear.

Next she clicked the icon
Outside/Bridge Deck
.

Carter leaned forward. The screen showed murky images of three armed men dressed in uniforms moving across the train tracks toward the pylon.

One carried a pump-action shotgun, the other two automatic rifles. Each weapon was fitted with a high-tech night scope. They had enough firepower to wipe out two football teams in three seconds flat.

Carter studied the men. Though they wore body armor and heavy boots, none possessed Alex’s imposing physique.

Erina clicked on the
Lookout
icon.

The screen was black, as if someone had placed tape over the camera lens.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, almost certain that Alex and his men had stationed themselves on the lookout one floor above. “Time to call in the cavalry.”

“What the fuck’s going on?” Vivienne asked.

“Hold tight and stay put,” Erina said and handed Carter the phone.

He pressed 1, hit dial and put it to his ear.

The phone rang twice.

An automated female voice came on the line. “Your service is temporarily unavailable. Please try again later.”

The phone clicked off.

“What is it?” Erina asked.

He handed her the phone and said, “No service. I’ll bet they’ve got a blocking device covering the inside of the pylon.”

Before she had a chance to respond, the lights went out, plunging them into total darkness.

A loud thump echoed somewhere beneath them.

“Fuuuck,” Vivienne said. “What was that?”

“Sounds like we have visitors,” Carter said. “Keep quiet and come over here by us.”

He guided her into a crouch next to Erina, who’d dropped to the floor. Erina shone the light of the phone screen onto the cardboard boxes stacked near the computers.

From below, another loud crash reverberated through the pylon.

Carter counted three sets of footsteps. The men had broken through the door and were inside, tramping up the first set of metal stairs, not caring who heard them. They sounded as if they were pumped full of arrogance and bravado, suggesting they were relative amateurs.

He turned toward Erina, who was ripping open the carton marked
PEGASUS SKYROCKETS
.

“Are you planning on putting on a private fireworks display?” Vivienne asked her, sounding incredulous.

“Something like that,” Erina said. “Here.” She handed Vivienne the phone. “Make yourself useful and give us some light.”

Vivienne held it in her right hand. Carter could tell she was trying to control her nervous shaking.

Erina extracted four rockets from the open box and then took five
INFUSION CRYSTAL FOUNTAINS
from the other one.

“What exactly have you got in mind?” Carter asked.

“I’m going to take Vivienne up the stairs toward the roof and stay with her,” she said. “I’ll set up the fountains and rockets along the way. We want to give the late arrivals a bright welcome.”

Carter knew exactly what she meant and said, “You’re quite the hostess.”

“You never get a second chance to make a first impression.”

He opened his daypack and laid it on the floor. Vivienne shone the light over it while he extracted a plastic lighter and a roll of grey duct tape. He handed them to Erina.

She grabbed Vivienne’s hand and hurried up the stairs. Carter stuffed the phone back in the daypack and took out his Glock. He then threw the pack under the wooden desk and slid in after it, facedown.

His shoulder, hip and left leg pressed flush against the wall. He held the SIG near his right shoulder with his finger on the trigger and placed his Glock by his left hip within easy reach. He had a feeling he’d need all the firepower he could gather.

He remained still, breathing softly and listening to the steady thump of footsteps moving toward him. The three men had already reached level two and were heading for the third floor. The beat of their boots had changed – they were cautious now, moving more slowly.

Carter imagined himself in their position. They’d be pumped full of adrenalin, holding their rifles to their shoulders, peering through their night scopes, seeing the world as a series of glowing green shadows.

The sounds of the marching boots changed again.

They’d stepped onto the third level. They were just a few feet away, moving much more slowly now.

He heard Erina above him, lighting the fireworks.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight, placed his hands firmly over his ears and started counting.

One, two …

He never got to three.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

22

Carter lay perfectly still under the table.

The four rockets detonated one by one, like a cluster of small bombs exploding. Then, with his ears ringing, he heard the whooshing sound of the crystal fountains.

Each whoosh heralded a shower of bright colored lights that’d make the night scopes useless and disorient the three men hunting him.

An automatic rifle barked.

Rat tat tat tat …

A split second later another joined in, followed by the double
BOOM BOOM
of the shotgun.

The three guys were spooked, shooting blind – but that didn’t make their bullets any less deadly.

Lead smashed into steel and brick, echoing around the enclosed chamber. The acrid smell of gunpowder and smoke filled the air.

Then the firing ceased.

Above him the sound of the fountains swirled.

He heard a high-pitched voice nearby shout in Indonesian, “You see him?”

They’d still be blinded by Erina’s lightshow.

“Diam.”
Shut up.

Carter opened his eyes.

From the floor under the table he saw three sets of black trouser legs and boots near the top of the stairs, forming a tight triangle.

Bad move. They should’ve spread out.

He picked up the Glock and threw it across the room.

There was a moment of silence followed by a loud clatter as it bounced against the opposite wall.

The boots turned toward the sound.

A burst of gunfire from the automatic rifles sprayed the far wall.

The shotgun boomed.

Carter slid in a smooth movement from under the table, holding the SIG. There was still enough light from the fireworks to see his targets.

He rose to his feet, raised the SIG to his shoulder, took aim and squeezed off three shots.

The first shot hit the closest man in the side of the neck. The second got the next man between the back of his helmet and the top of his body armor. Carter shot the last guy in the throat when he turned toward him.

The three men collapsed to the ground.

The last of the fireworks gave a final splutter and died.

Carter started moving toward the stairs in the silent darkness.

Then stopped.

Somewhere above him, a door opened and closed.

A set of heavy footsteps came racing down the metal stairs.

He looked up into the darkness.

Erina’s loud scream echoed around the pylon. “CAAAAAARTEEER!”

A chilling dread cut through him.

Something dropped on the floor.

It bounced once … twice …