Under Fire: (A Dan Taylor thriller) (4 page)

Closing the front door behind him, Dan heard the locking mechanism click back into place, and began to explore his new temporary home.

The building was three storeys high, typically Georgian in design, with a basement sectioned off from the street outside by heavy wrought iron bars. Hitting a light switch to the left-hand side of the front door, Dan glanced around at his immediate surroundings. The hallway and lower level of the house had been decorated in neutral tones with carpeted floors. A staircase to the right of the hallway led up to the next storey.

To the right of the front door, he found a large study with a mahogany desk, a leather chair each side of it, and a window that faced out to the street. Net curtains provided privacy from the street. Dan strode over to the window, glanced out, then pulled the thick velvet curtains closed and turned to face the room. A laptop computer and printer sat on the desk. He noticed a modem near the wall behind the desk, its red light blinking in anticipation. A three-seat sofa stretched along one wall, facing a fireplace, while the back wall housed a large bookshelf that bowed slightly in the middle from the weight of the books lining its shelves.

He smiled when he saw the painting that hung slightly skewed above the fireplace. It depicted a nineteenth-century early morning hunting scene on the Berkshire Downs, with the Uffington White Horse rising up in the distance. Wandering over to it, Dan pulled out the painting slightly from the wall and was rewarded with a smooth
click
. The painting gave way, swinging aside to reveal a wall safe.

Dan grinned. He’d save that for later once he’d had a chance to read through the files David had given him to read.

Easing the painting back into place, he stepped out of the room and across the hall. Pushing open the next door, he discovered a dining area which opened out at the back of the room and moulded perfectly into a large kitchen which took up the back of the house. In the far corner, a solid door led out into a back yard, while a large centre island contained a gas hob and food preparation area. The kitchen sink and a dishwasher lined part of the back wall under a window with its blinds already closed to the back yard.

Turning back to the hallway, Dan bent down to pick up his kit bag, and began to climb the stairs to the first floor. At the top of the stairs, an open doorway on the right led through to a lounge area which encompassed the whole side of the building. A large plasma television and entertainment system stretched along one wall, with a sofa and two large armchairs opposite. A window looked out over the back yard. Dan pulled the blinds down across the front and back windows and wandered back out on to the landing. On the opposite side of the house, he found a bathroom and bedroom. He continued up the stairs to the top storey and located the master bedroom at the front of the house, with its own bathroom and a walk-in wardrobe. Dan grinned and threw his kit bag on the bed. Mitch could have the bedroom on the lower level.

Opposite the master bedroom were two more bedrooms, sparsely decorated compared with the rest of the house. He pulled the doors closed and returned to his room to unpack.

After putting his clothes into the enormous walk-in wardrobe, Dan kicked his kit bag out of sight under the king-size bed and wandered over to the bay window that wrapped its way around the room. He pulled back the net curtains and glanced each way along the street below. The grey sky was fading to black over the horizon and the buildings opposite cast shadows across the street. Doorways and entrances to alleyways provided perfect cover for a resourceful watcher, but after five minutes, Dan couldn’t spot anyone who appeared to be anything other than the normal neighbours he’d expect in such a street.

He let the net curtain drop back into place, pulled the blinds shut, then remembered he had planned to investigate the contents of the basement. He jogged down the stairs and, not seeing a door in the hallway, retraced his footsteps to the kitchen. He glanced around until he saw what he was looking for.

He wandered over to the far wall and opened up a floor-to-ceiling cupboard door. He was slightly surprised to see a steel door blocking his way.

A combination lock stuck out from the surface of the door, a green digital display blinking in the twilight of the cupboard space. Dan typed in his birth date. The digital display flashed twice before the locking mechanism released with a
hiss
. Dan held down two buttons until the system requested a new password from him. He typed it in quickly, hit the ‘set’ button, and used the kitchen pedal bin to prop open the door. After he pulled a cord just inside the doorway, the area illuminated to reveal steps to the basement.

Descending the steps, Dan looked around in amazement. The room covered the area of the house above, the nearest wall containing a series of thin metal drawers.

Striding over to them, he pressed a button on the right-hand side of a drawer, and stepped back as it slipped smoothly out of the wall cavity. Inside, a display of handguns lay in a foam lining. Dan smiled, picked up a Sig Sauer, turned around and sighted it across the length of the room.

He swallowed, lowered the gun and walked towards the opposite wall. Closed circuit television monitors set into the nearest wall blinked sporadically, as their images swept through the property and the exterior.

Dan found the controls and experimented with the camera settings, soon finding two which could only have been concealed in street lamps at either end of the avenue.

Satisfied, he turned back to the armoury and searched through the drawers until he found the Sig’s magazines. Slipping one into the gun and a spare into his back pocket, he climbed the stairs, pushing the gun into the back of his jeans. Reaching the top of the stairs, he closed the door and checked his watch.

Time to recce the venue.

As the taxi drew up to the kerb, Dan leaned forward and handed the driver the fare.

‘Keep the change,’ he said, and opened the door.

He’d arranged for the driver to stop a couple of blocks away from the hotel being used for the conference and where the next evening’s gala event was to be held to walk the perimeter and get a feel for what was taking place around him, before stepping into the mayhem of a full security detail and introducing himself to the man in charge.

A faint mist swirled across the footpath as he walked along the street, remnant of the late afternoon storm of rain and sleet which had cleared the smog from the city air. He sniffed, the faint stink of the river reaching his senses.

He took one last look up at the buildings which surrounded the square before he stepped off the kerb and began to walk across the cobblestones towards the security cordon.

A group of protesters had pushed their way to the edge of the temporary fencing and were hanging placards and hand-painted signs over the barrier. He could vaguely hear some sort of chanting emanating from the group. As he walked closer, he could read the signs.

‘Free Iran. Stop the Sanctions.’

He approached one of the suited security guards and held his identity card up. After having his credentials checked, Dan put the card back in his pocket, glanced along the length of the cordon, and then back at the security guard.

‘Who’s in charge?’

The man nodded over his shoulder, careful not to dislodge his earpiece. ‘Over there. Goes by the name of Mike Browning.’

Dan thanked him and ducked under the security rope strung between two metal posts. He walked up to the man the guard had pointed out who had his back to Dan, talking to one of the other plain clothed security detail.

Dressed in a dark suit like the others, he had broad shoulders and severe close-cropped silver grey hair. Slightly shorter than Dan, the man looked heavy-set but deceptively light on his feet. He sensed Dan approaching and turned as he drew level with him.

Dan didn’t wait to be asked. He extended his hand. ‘Dan Taylor – David Ludlow suggested I contact you.’

The man took the proffered hand. His grip was strong and he squeezed Dan’s hand hard. Dan ignored the manoeuvre and held the man’s gaze until he spoke.

‘Browning.’ He gestured towards the doors of the complex. ‘Step in here where we can talk in private.’

Dan followed the other man as he stalked along the red carpet laid out for guests and pushed his way through the mahogany-framed glass double doors into the lobby. He caught the door and scowled as Browning let it fall back in his face
.

He followed Browning through the lobby, down a darkly painted narrow corridor into a small office. As Browning entered the office, he clicked his fingers at three security guards who sat at a desk, monitoring the hotel’s closed circuit television screens.

‘Out.’

The security guards jumped up and quickly left the room, the last closing the door behind him.

Dan shook his head slightly in disbelief as Browning made a show of stalking around the room, seemingly collecting his thoughts while the closed-circuit camera screens continued to blink.

Browning suddenly stopped pacing, bent down next to a desk in the corner and picked up a black canvas bag. He unzipped it and pulled out an earpiece and radio microphone set. He turned to Dan and thrust the equipment at him. ‘Before you get any ideas, you’re here as an observer and that’s it. I’m in charge. You don’t even take a shit tomorrow night without asking me first, is that clear?’

‘Clear,’ Dan replied as he fitted the earpiece and tapped the microphone to test the volume on the pack. ‘Anything else, or can I go now?’

 
Browning snorted. ‘Just remember, I’m watching you.’ He put two fingers to his eyes then used them to point at Dan, who turned to leave the room.

‘Wouldn’t want you to get nightmares from working tomorrow night,’ said Browning. He sneered. ‘Although London is a bit more cultured than the Middle East.’

Dan turned back towards the other man and in two strides had his face in front of the head of security, his blue eyes blazing. ‘At least I was there, arsehole.’

Browning pushed Dan away. ‘Piss off. You might be here because you’re the current favourite but stay out of the way of my operation.’

Dan glared at him, and then walked out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

One of the security guards who had been looking at the video screens before being ejected from the room leaned against the opposite wall of the corridor. He grinned at Dan.

‘Bit of a tosser, isn’t he?’

‘Putting it mildly,’ said Dan, and wandered back into the lobby.

Ignoring the hotel staff hurrying through the rooms around him, Dan began to make his way through the building, starting with the lower levels.

Opening a door marked with a fire exit sign, he walked quickly down the steps, pushed open another door, and found himself in the hotel’s underground car park.

On two levels, the concrete basement structure spiralled under the hotel. Dan guessed it would house over one hundred cars at full capacity, but noted as he walked through the empty bays that Browning’s team had cleared all vehicles from the area to eliminate the risk of any potential bomb threats.

Dan wandered across to the entry and exit barriers and found two security guards with semi-automatic rifles held up to their chests, one facing the car park, the other scanning the small lane at the rear of the hotel. He nodded an acknowledgement to them as he flashed his identity card and stepped out into the lane.

Craning his neck upwards, he scanned the buildings opposite the hotel as he walked the perimeter. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small notebook and pen and began to write.

At the rear of the hotel, he found a narrow alleyway. He glanced up, saw the barrel of a rifle pointing over the side and held up his hand in salute. The gesture was returned, and he continued along the alleyway, turning his head left and right as he walked.

The exterior reconnaissance complete, Dan spent the next two hours walking through the hotel kitchen, conference rooms and six levels of plush accommodation, noting that none of the rooms were occupied – another threat averted.

Satisfied with his tour of the building, he returned to the ground floor and knocked on the door of the hotel’s CCTV suite. Browning was nowhere to be seen, and the security guard who opened the door gestured to Dan to take a seat in one of the spare chairs pushed up against the wall.

‘How did you get on?’ he asked.

‘Not bad,’ said Dan. ‘Do you mind if I ask a few questions to help get my bearings before tomorrow night?’

‘Fire away.’

‘Have you got the schematics of the hotel and the building next door?’

The security guard stood up and reached behind the CCTV monitors, pulling out a large roll of paper. He unravelled it and handed it to Dan, who put it on the floor in front of him and crouched down. He flattened the edges of the paper with his palms and ran his hands over the plan.

‘What security have you got next door?’ he asked.

‘Two on the door, two on the roof,’ said the security guard. ‘It’s a private residence of eight apartments. The residents have been compensated for parking elsewhere for the next forty-eight hours.’

‘Good. I’d like to see another two of your men on the ground level though. Keep the garage doors locked and have them run regular checks between the garage and the basement.’ He tapped the plan. ‘We don’t want anyone blowing a hole through the basement there into this one.’

The security guard nodded. ‘Not a problem.’

Dan frowned and pulled the hotel schematic closer. ‘What’s the depth of this sewer drain?’

The security guard knelt down. ‘According to the hotel manager, that’s an old one and it’s blocked between the entrance to the car park and fifty metres past the hotel here.’ He stabbed the page with his finger. ‘During the hotel renovations five years ago, the construction team filled it with rocks and earth.’

‘Do you have a guest list?’ said Dan, leaning forward and rolling up the plans.

‘Hang on.’ The guard turned towards a table strewn with paper and passed a document to him.

‘Thanks. What about staff members?’

‘Here somewhere.’ The security guard took the plans from Dan, tossed them onto the table, then rummaged around until he found what he was looking for. ‘There it is.’

‘Can I keep these?’

‘Sure.’

‘Any last minute changes?’

‘No – if anyone goes sick or missing between now and the gala, the hotel manager is under strict instructions not to replace them.’

‘Good.’ Dan folded up the pages and put them in his pocket, then glanced at his notes. ‘You’ll need more than one man on the roof,’ he said. ‘The fire exits on the rear of the building are great for us to use if the shit hits the fan, but could be used in an attack after a fast rope descent.’

The security guard glanced over his shoulder at his colleague, then back at Dan. ‘That might be a problem,’ he said. ‘We’re at maximum capacity now. I don’t know if the company has any more personnel available.’

Dan snapped his notebook shut and turned to leave. ‘Then you’d better hope we don’t have a problem tomorrow night,’ he said.

***

After taking a convoluted route back to the safe house which involved two underground stations and a bus stop, followed by a half mile walk, Dan shut the front door behind him and switched on the light. It flickered once then illuminated the long narrow hallway that stretched through to the back of the house.

He followed its path to the back door, checked the deadbolts as well as the thin cotton thread he’d pulled from his shirt hem and placed in the jamb. It didn’t hurt to have an early warning system in place which didn’t rely on the numerous electronics that ran the building.

Satisfied, he turned to walk back to the front of the house when he detected a faint
thud
on the floor above him.

Steadying himself, he put a hand on the wall next to him and carefully removed his shoes, placing them on the floor. He drew his gun out from under his jacket and held it tightly while he shifted along the hallway to the base of the staircase.

The staircase was marble, with a thick carpet lining the middle, allowing little chance of a creaking stair tread to give him away. Dan inched close to the wall near the first tread and cautiously peered upwards, straining his ears. From the second floor landing, he could hear faint voices. He frowned. He couldn’t remember leaving the television on.

He flattened himself against the wall and began a slow, steady climb up the curving staircase, keeping his gun in a two-handed grip facing upwards in front of him. As he climbed, his eyes kept searching the flight of stairs above him, looking for a sign of the intruder.

Thud.

He froze. Forcing his heart rate down, he breathed slowly and deeply through his nose. He counted to ten and resumed climbing.

As he approached the top of the first flight of stairs he dropped to a crouching position and crawled up towards the landing. The sound of the television was clearer now.

Dan glanced around, reminding himself of his surroundings. He peered in the direction of the bedrooms and saw only darkness. A glow emanated from the living area as the television images illuminated the ceiling and walls of the room.

He stood up and inched across the carpet, pushing his back against the wall. He crept closer to the doorway to the living area. He breathed out slowly, willing his heart rate down.

Suddenly, there was a loud
creak
as someone got up off of one of the heavily padded armchairs.

Dan looked around the passageway. There was nowhere to hide. He stepped back and raised the gun in front of him as a shadow fell on the open door of the living room.

‘Freeze!’ Dan yelled as the figure appeared.

The man dropped the empty beer can in his hand to the floor and turned around slowly to face Dan, his hands in the air above him.

‘Jesus Christ, I nearly shit myself!’ Mitch Frazer lowered his hands and glared at Dan. ‘What the hell were you trying to do – give me a heart attack?’

Dan lowered the weapon carefully and flicked the safety on. He pushed the sweat out of his eyes and glared at Mitch.

‘How the hell did you get in here?’

Mitch bent down to pick up the beer can rolling around on the carpet. ‘I’ve got my own password, you idiot.’

Dan shook his head. He leaned against the wall to steady his shaking legs. ‘Jesus, that was too close.’

‘Tell me about it,’ said Mitch. He held up the empty tin can and grinned. ‘Do you want a beer?’ he asked.

Dan glanced at him, wearily rubbed his hand over his face and nodded.

‘Yes. Hell yes.’