Authors: JT Brannan
STOP AT NOTHING: 'Mark Cole is Bond's US cousin mixed with the balls out action and killing edge of Jason Bourne' Parmenion Books (18 page)
Cole had led the two agents on a little tour of the ship, not giving them any time to settle or get into a routine; it was strictly stop-start all the way. The method had the added benefit of disguising the place where Cole was really leading them – back to the parking zone where he’d heard the men initially.
He’d had a good look at the two agents now and, as he had been trained to all those years before, had assigned names to them. The trouble with choosing names for undercover operatives was, of course, the fact that they were not physically very distinctive. The very nature of their profession demanded that they aroused no suspicions, and so deciding on a feature to lock onto was certainly harder than with most people. Both men wore nondescript clothes and had decidedly nondescript faces.
The first two had been easier, which indicated to Cole that this pair was the more professional, and therefore the more dangerous. Cole had many years experience of watching and observing people, however, and it was only a matter of seconds before he had latched onto the main differentiating characteristic of the two men. The first agent had a slim build, emphasized by a scrawny neck. To his credit, he tried to hide it by doing his shirt up high, but it was still apparent. The second man evidently liked to work out, although again he tried to hide his physique with his loose clothes. But he couldn’t completely hide the size of his neck, which stood out in stark contrast to his partner. Pencil Neck and the Bull it was then, Cole decided.
He remembered the layout of the parking sector from his earlier visit precisely, including the location and angles of the various CCTV cameras dotted around the vast cavern. He chose to re-enter the parking zone through the same door he had left through earlier – he knew the type and location of the nearby vehicles, and had already decided on how he was going to solve the problem of his two pursuers.
Cole crouched in the cold darkness, off to one side of the wide metal door, and waited patiently for the two men to appear. On the upper level, he had made a show of checking the area, pretending not to see the two agents before he crept through into the stairwell and headed downstairs. He hoped that Pencil Neck and the Bull would assume that Cole didn’t realize he was being followed, and would therefore confidently follow him downstairs in the hope of surprising him.
It was taking longer than Cole had anticipated for the men to appear however, and he began to wonder if they had seen through his plan, or had perhaps been ordered to stand down, or –
The door moved, opening quietly, slowly. Cole’s eyes pierced the dark, straining to make the identification. It was Pencil Neck. Cole exploded upwards, jumping straight into the agent and lashing out viciously. Holding the thumb and second knuckle of his index finger together in a solid point, he thrust the callused weapon straight into the man’s unprotected throat. The strike was as fatal as if he had used the knife he had taken earlier, but a lot less messy.
Pencil Neck dropped to the floor, convulsing violently as he started to foam at the mouth like a rabid dog, but Cole was already moving past him to confront the Bull, his arm cocked to deliver a second lethal blow.
Where is he?
Cole wondered in rising panic. He looked around the small corridor, up and down the stairs, but saw nobody.
Just then, he heard the sound of a door opening on the opposite side of the parking sector.
Damn!
The agents had split up, hoping to move in on him in a pincer movement. He should have anticipated it, but Cole knew now wasn’t the time for self-recrimination.
For a split second, across the twenty rows of vehicles that now separated them, Cole’s eyes met with those of the second agent. The Bull realised in an instant that his partner was down, and immediately raised his right arm. Instinct took over Cole’s actions, and he dived for the floor even as he heard the light
phht!
of a silenced pistol. The echo of the reverberating ricochet as the subsonic bullet struck the metal door just inches from Cole’s head was much louder, and Cole hoped that the CCTV cameras weren’t wired for sound.
It was clear that subtlety was now out of the equation. The man wanted Cole dead, however he did it.
Cole looked down at the body of Pencil Neck in front of him, spread-eagled on the floor, the thick metal door trying to close itself by crushing his chest. Beyond, Cole saw the man’s own silenced handgun at the foot of the stairwell. Keeping low, he ducked down to grab the weapon and retrieve it from the doorway.
The same
phht!
was followed by the same metallic
kerang!
as the Bull fired again. Cole reared back out of the way, again narrowly missing being shot. The man was good, Cole gave him that.
So, he couldn’t get the gun. But Cole was faced with another problem – the open door would soon register with the ship’s security centre. Meant to be kept shut against flooding, if the door was held open for too long an alarm would soon start sounding in the operations room.
Cole held his breath, centring himself. Over the beating of his own heart, he heard movement. The Bull was advancing. Cole used the opportunity to reach out and grab Pencil Neck’s legs, pulling him violently backwards into the parking sector. As the door finally released him and clanked shut, Cole fell over backwards with the force of his pulling. It didn’t matter though – the body was out, the door was shut, and Cole regained his feet instantly.
He had lost his awareness of the other man’s position, though, and hoped that the man or woman tasked with watching the security cameras would not be studying the screens too closely. The notion didn’t worry him unduly, however; experience had taught him that such cameras were seldom monitored very effectively. They were, in fact, mainly for use if and when a crime was reported, at which stage the films would be played back and potentially used as evidence. A useful tool to be sure, but due to a lack of manpower to monitor the multitude of images, it was rare for that tool to be used to prevent an incident in real-time.
Deciding to play it safe nevertheless, Cole slipped quietly to the floor and dragged himself underneath and past the first two lines of cars, heading for the line he thought the Bull would be approaching from.
As he pulled himself along the cold, wet floor towards the centre of the parking sector, a noise made him pause. It was the rustle of clothing against metal, and it had come from the right hand side. Cole slowly eased out from his position, trying to see exactly where it had come from.
He saw it and pulled his head back under the car at almost the same instant, as the Bull fired another subsonic bullet towards his prey. The man started running then, Cole saw, eager to capitalise upon his attack. Cole rolled in the opposite direction, out from under the car, and stood up in a low crouch, revealing himself to the hunter.
The Bull, now only twenty feet away, saw Cole’s head pop up and immediately turned to fire, this time a two round double-tap. But Cole had already ducked back down and was rolling under the same car back the way he had come.
He popped up on the first side of the car again just as the Bull reached the opposite side, gun aimed down at the floor where he expected Cole to be. It didn’t take long for him to realize where Cole was, and he instantaneously turned to fire, but it was already too late. The knife that Cole had taken from the agent in the bathroom earlier, thrown with great force and accuracy, entered the Bull’s skull via the eye socket before he even had the chance to squeeze the trigger. The tip of the blade pierced the agent’s brain, and he fell to the floor dead.
Breathing a weary sigh of relief, Cole’s head snapped around just instants later as a sudden noise caught his attention. A buzz of static, then a voice – the ship’s electronic PA system.
By the time the voice was halfway through its announcement, Cole was already in motion. Apparently they were almost at France, the passengers were being instructed to return to their vehicles – and Cole had just minutes in which to hide two more dead bodies.
Sitting across the polished wooden desk in the White House office of Richard Jenson, Hansard sipped at his third brandy of the day, an unusually refined almanac. Ignoring the jug of iced water set to one side, Jenson joined him with the brandy, and they raised their cut-crystal glasses to one another in toast.
‘It went well,’ Jenson said happily, referring to his latest meeting with President Abrams. ‘Just like you said it would.’
Hansard nodded his head sagely. He had not been overly surprised; but reality was fluid, and Hansard was all too aware that nothing could ever be set in stone. He did, however, have contingency plans for most variations. How could a plan hope to succeed otherwise?
‘Let’s not count our chickens just yet, Richard. Much can go wrong in the next few days,’ Hansard advised. ‘We need to follow a fine balancing act with our allies. But, yes, this morning went well. We just have to keep on top of it and make sure it
keeps
going well.’
Jensen nodded, and took a sip of brandy. He held the glass up in front of him, examining the rich, honey-coloured liquid. As he did so, his face grew pensive. At length, he looked up at his friend and advisor.
‘Do you really think it will work, Charles? Do you think we’ll do it?’ The question was hushed, worried, a cry for reassurance.
Hansard regarded Jenson with his cool grey eyes.
If you don’t let me down
, he answered silently. But he knew the man he’d chosen all those years ago wouldn’t fail him. Perversely, the weakness and vulnerability that Jenson displayed when alone translated to great strength when on the public stage, almost as if he was able to feed off his own fears and worries and imbue himself with a power he wouldn’t otherwise have.
‘I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think the outcome was achievable, Richard,’ Hansard answered at last. ‘It is by no means certain – there are always too many external imponderables to ever be certain about anything in this game – but it is most definitely achievable.’
Jenson smiled, and took another sip of his drink.
Sarah made her way through the Jackson Mall as nonchalantly as she could, seeming to idle from boutique to boutique with no real direction. Her tight hold of her children’s hands was entirely subconscious, and betrayed the fact that she was actually a harried bundle of nerves, totally on edge.
Although she appeared to have no destination in sight, the three members of the Cole family were actually headed for a very specific location. She had tried the counter-surveillance moves as best as she could under the circumstances, and thought that nobody was following her, but she was all too aware that she was no expert at this game. There could have been a dozen men following her for all she really knew.
She managed to continue her laid-back stroll until they came upon a small coffee house. ‘Who wants a cake?’ she asked Ben and Amy.
‘Me!’ shouted Ben immediately.
Amy, a little more aware of her mother’s uneasiness, asked quietly ‘Is it okay?’
Sarah smiled widely at her, her daughter’s understanding giving her renewed strength. ‘Of course it is honey, we’re on holiday! Come on, we’ll have a bite to eat and then we’ll go shopping. Okay?’
‘Okay!’ Amy replied brightly, heading with her mother and brother into the café.
Ben rolled his eyes at his sister as they passed through the doors. If they were offered cake, the answer should always be a simple
Yes!
There was certainly never any need for questions. Why did girls always have to make things complicated?
Across the crowded plaza, a man
was
watching the Cole family. Andy Cragg saw the three targets enter the coffee shop, and wondered if he should follow them in. His orders were to remain unobserved however, and so he resisted the impulse. The mother seemed to be so far unaware of his presence, but it was clear that she had some knowledge of counter-surveillance techniques. She was no expert, but was good enough for him to have to keep his distance. He couldn’t take the risk of the Cole woman making him, and so he sat down on one of the benches opposite and started to wait.
He could see the family through the coffee shop’s window, and would pick up the tail when they left.
Albright had wanted to keep watch himself, but Cragg had suggested that with his damaged face, it might just be too easy to spot him. Albright had argued, but Cragg had finally convinced him, and he was now just around the corner, in close radio contact.
Cragg could see that there was more to Albright’s desire to watch the family than professional pride; it seemed somehow personal to him. Cragg knew that the senior agent was a vain man – indeed, within the DIA’s Department X, Albright’s narcissistic qualities were well known – but Cragg hoped that it wouldn’t start to colour his colleague’s judgement.
Across from the coffee shop, Cragg observed Sarah Cole check her watch and then ask for the bill. It came just a minute later, and he watched her take some money out of her purse and put it on the table. He started to react as he saw the mother and her two children stand and start to make their way towards the door.
He relaxed a moment later when the little girl – Amy Cole, wasn’t it? – stopped her mum and whispered urgently in her ear. Smiling, Sarah Cole approached the coffee bar and spoke to the lady behind the counter, who pointed towards a hallway at the rear of the little café. Cragg watched as she led her children down the corridor and out of sight.
Cragg wasn’t concerned; just a four year old girl needing to use the toilet after a meal, nothing unusual. He used the opportunity to radio Albright to let him know the Cole family were about to move.
‘Why did you want me to whisper in your ear, Mommy?’ Amy asked as they walked quickly past the door to the bathroom.
Sarah looked down at her little girl and smiled. ‘We’re just playing a game honey, just a game. Like acting, you know? Maybe like hide and seek?’ The trio got to the end of the corridor and stopped at the fire exit.
Ben looked at his mother with curiosity. ‘Who are we playing with?’ he asked with genuine interest.
‘Some friends,’ Sarah replied automatically as she checked the device in her hand. She hoped it still worked.
They were across the alleyway outside the Mall in seconds, Sarah closing the fire door and pressing the button on the remote control in her hand at the same time.
The control was aimed at another fire door, positioned directly opposite her across the narrow alleyway. They were almost there, and Sarah thought for a moment that it wouldn’t work, but then it creaked open and they were there, bursting through into the stair well and slamming the door closed behind them immediately.
Sarah hoisted Ben and Amy into her arms, smiling at both of them warmly. ‘Looks like they’re not going to find us,’ she said with relief.
‘Did we win?’ Ben asked.
‘I think so,’ Sarah replied, and Ben and Amy cheered. ‘And that means we get to play another game. I hope you both like fancy dress.’