Authors: Robert Muchamore
Bruce passed the brick out of the door to James, who backed up to the outer door before hurling it down the staircase into the arms of Tony Kruger. It took less than forty seconds to extract two million vacuum-packed dollars and load them on to the bus.
As the boys ran down the steps, they spotted an airport fire engine racing towards the scene. It could only be a matter of seconds before the airport police were on their backs too.
James jumped on to the bus behind Bruce and the Kruger brothers, and Sasha floored the accelerator without bothering to shut the doors. Their exit was on the opposite side of the airport, but whilst Sasha wanted a quick getaway he discovered that the hydraulic brakes locked on every time he reached twenty-five miles an hour.
‘There’s a bloody speed limiter,’ Sasha yelled, as he turned around the nose of the plane and began heading back towards the passenger end of the terminal.
Tim Kruger watched in shock as the speed limiter locked on for the third time.
‘Makes sense,’ James said quietly, as he sat on a padded bench next to Bruce. ‘You wouldn’t want your minimum-wage airport bus driver putting his foot down and careering into a fifty-million-pound jet.’
Twenty miles an hour felt agonisingly slow as they drove along the path in front of the terminal, passing the shadowy outlines of a dozen passenger jets.
But there was still no sign of airport police as Tim Kruger radioed through to the rest of the team: ‘We’re passing Gate Three and should be at the exit in just over a minute.’
‘Roger that,’ Savvas answered. ‘I’m heading in.’
‘There’s the cops,’ Bruce yelled, as he looked behind and saw two airport police cars roaring across the tarmac with their sirens blazing.
They were closing fast as Sasha took a final slow turn around the end of the passenger terminal. The vehicle access point where fuel tankers and catering trucks entered the airport was directly ahead of them, complete with heavy barriers and a security booth with an armed guard inside.
James only glimpsed it before he saw the truck with the battering ram welded to the front barrelling towards the gate at more than fifty miles an hour. The huge ram tore into the security booth, ripping the entire structure out of the ground. As the truck ploughed on, it hit a kerb so fast that the front wheels flew off the ground. It shattered the exit barriers and closed on the side of the terminal building.
‘He’s ballsed it up,’ Tony Kruger gasped.
Savvas was supposed to brake hard and turn once he was through the gates. But your brakes don’t work when your wheels are off the ground.
A wall of sparks exploded around the front edge of the battering ram as the truck touched down, throwing the helmeted Savvas across the cab. The truck smashed into the terminal building, tearing a massive hole and exposing ventilation shafts and a service corridor.
‘Jesus,’ Bruce gasped, as dust billowed and masonry chinked to the ground. ‘That must have knocked him out.’
Sasha stopped the bus and the two black Mercedes vans roared through the tangle of concrete and wire where the security barriers had been. James and Bruce grabbed a brick of money and ran towards them.
At the same time, Savvas fought to open his stricken truck, but the collision had buckled the door and he was forced to climb through the window. The two airport police cars had stopped fifty metres behind the bus and the Kruger brothers ripped out machine guns and fired warning shots into the air.
‘Stay
back
,’ Tony warned.
Bruce started making a second run with two bricks of money. James was about to grab the last one when Sasha pointed him towards the truck.
‘Go help Savvas. He’s stuck.’
Savvas was losing his struggle to get out of the truck. A jet of water sprayed out of the rubble inside the terminal as James jumped on to the steps leading up to the cab. He grabbed Savvas by his overall, but Savvas’ shoulders were wedged and his breathing was laboured.
As James tried to undo the chin strap on Savvas’ helmet, a blast of automatic gunfire gave him the fright of his life. He slipped off the steps and put his trainer down awkwardly, turning his ankle and collapsing on to his heavily padded behind.
James glanced around warily. There was no sign of Bruce or the Kruger brothers and the gunfire seemed to have come from behind the remains of the security booth. The officer inside had dived out before it was destroyed, and now used the debris as cover as she shot at the wheels of the black vans less than ten metres from her position.
The getaway drivers had no option but to reverse through the mangled gates at speed. As James stood up it seemed everyone else had made it into the vans and his only company was the half conscious Savvas.
He thought about running for it, but with someone shooting from behind the booth and the two police cars sure to close in now that the Krugers weren’t covering his back, surrender seemed like the only sane option. Then he eyed Sasha lying flat in the doorway of the bus.
*
Michael was a good marksman. He’d practised extensively with his compact pistol and the Runt who’d stabbed Gabrielle was crossing the playground less than ten metres away. It was an easy shot.
Cherubs are taught only to shoot when they’re in immediate danger and the Runt didn’t even know he was being targeted. But Michael’s training was mangled by his love for Gabrielle. He wanted the person who’d almost extinguished her life to suffer and his rage was almost overpowering.
Can I get away with it? Probably. Could I live with myself? Definitely. Wouldn’t killing him make me just as bad as him? Could I really kill another human being?
Much as he hated the Runt, Michael was surprised to discover that he didn’t have the heart to kill in cold blood. He lowered his aim and thought about shooting the Runt up the arse or in the leg, but wherever a bullet enters you can be dead inside three minutes if it hits an artery.
A slamming door made Michael look back and he heard running in the corridor behind him. His first thought was of the two Runts who’d been inside the car. But he could hear voices: a near hysterical woman and an older man trying to calm her down. The cops had given top priority to a call from a primary school.
‘This is the police, can you hear me?’
Michael took a quick glance back out of the window and saw that the Runt had stopped moving. He’d lost Michael and had no idea what to do next.
‘I can hear,’ Michael shouted back.
‘I want you to put your gun down and slide it across to the far side of the room,’ the cop said calmly. ‘I need to be able to see your weapon when I open the door.’
Michael considered bursting out of the triangular door and going after the Runt, but firearms teams work in pairs and the most likely outcome would be a bullet in his own back. Even with body armour and nanotubes, he didn’t fancy it.
‘Quickly,’ the cop shouted.
‘I’m putting the gun down now,’ Michael shouted back.
He clicked on the safety and removed the clip, then threw both against the far wall of the room. One of the cops must have been peering through the door at the back because he charged in instantly, pointing his handgun at Michael as Alex Rider and a display of Horrible Histories clattered to the floor.
‘Hands on your head, on your head!’
Michael did what he was told as another officer stormed into the room.
‘Get up, face the window.’
While the officer slammed Michael against a bookshelf and locked handcuffs behind his back, the Runt spotted a police uniform inside the library and began sprinting towards the school gate.
‘OK, mister,’ the officer said, as he jerked Michael away from the window and shoved him forward so that his colleague could pat him down. ‘You’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent, but anything that you do say can be taken down and used in evidence against you.’
‘He’s wearing full body armour,’ the other cop said incredulously, as he pulled a hunting knife and a cellphone out of Michael’s trouser pocket. ‘Carrying a firearm, assault with a deadly weapon. You’re looking at five years and you can’t be more than sixteen years old …’
‘Get out to the car,’ the first cop growled, as Michael wondered if Gabrielle would have wanted him to pull the trigger.
Sasha kept low as he sprinted out of the bus with a $260,000 brick under his arm. James was scared of getting shot and wondered if he should fake an injury and leave Sasha’s capture to the police. But Sasha knew the airport well and James didn’t like the idea of him getting away.
James straddled the rubble and followed Sasha down a breeze-block corridor as a recorded female voice repeatedly told them that there was a security alert and to evacuate the terminal by the nearest exit.
After thirty steps the pair found themselves in a stockroom piled with yesterday’s newspapers and boxes of crisps. Sasha put his head around the door at the opposite end and stared into a deserted shop.
‘Looks clear,’ he whispered.
They crouched low as they walked between two racks of magazines and peeked on to the airport concourse. When they’d arrived it had been jammed. Now the open space was dead except for the tannoy announcement and the squeaking boots of an armed officer patrolling the polished floor.
‘Is it safe?’ James asked.
But Sasha had moved away. He reached behind the counter and grabbed a large carrier bag.
‘Open it,’ he said, as he passed the bag to James.
James held the bag, enabling Sasha to drop the brick of cash inside.
‘How do we get out of here?’ James asked, as he eyed the cop’s machine gun.
Sasha pointed out of the open shop front and to the left as he pulled a knife from inside his trousers.
‘Passengers evacuate into the bus terminal, which is fifty metres that way,’ he explained in a whisper. ‘We’ll make sure Robocop’s looking the other way when we step out, but once we get outside there’s going to be a couple of thousand people hanging around waiting to be let back in.’
James felt queasy with fear as Sasha stuck his knife inside the carrier bag and sliced the plastic wrapping away from the money. He briefly considered shooting Sasha in the leg, but before he got a chance Sasha thrust a stack of hundred-dollar bills into his hands.
‘What’s this?’ James asked.
‘Crowd control,’ Sasha said mysteriously.
*
The stolen cash would have easily fitted into a single van, but Sasha’s plan called for two because the police would be stretched thin and two vans would maximise their chances of getting away with at least half of the money.
Bruce had a ten-minute ride in the back of a van, with Tim Kruger, eight hundred thousand dollars and a slow puncture in the left rear. They ended up in an overgrown courtyard on the edge of the Thornton Estate.
Wheels waited in the powerful BMW, with the boot open. Two bricks of cash were loaded inside, while Tim Kruger stuffed the two that belonged to him and his brother into a Samsonite wheelie bag. He pulled it across the pavement and lifted it in the back of a Renault parked across the street.
As Wheels followed the Renault’s exhaust plume, Riggsy – who’d been driving the van – fetched a can of petrol from the cab and began splashing it around.
‘You look like a lost dog, Brucey boy,’ he smiled.
‘Where’s the other van?’ Bruce asked anxiously. ‘Did you see what happened to James and Sasha?’
‘Different meeting point,’ Riggsy explained.
‘But I’m sure they got left behind,’ Bruce said. ‘I ran for the van and jumped in and I saw Tony Kruger jump in the other one—’
Riggsy didn’t like teenagers and sounded annoyed. ‘Keep calm, kid. Get out of those bloody overalls and toss ’em in the van before I burn it.’
Bruce was so worried about James that he’d forgotten he still had
LUTON SECURITY
written across his back.
‘When things go bad you’ve got to keep your head,’ Riggsy said, as Bruce hurriedly peeled his overall down his arms. ‘Go back to the Zoo, think up a bloody good alibi and keep your head down. Whatever you do, don’t try and contact Sasha before he contacts you. I can drop you at the bus station if you like.’
As Riggsy spoke he pulled a lighter out of his pocket and gave Bruce a
hurry up with the overalls
look. Bruce looked in the back of the van and realised that it was a goldmine of forensic evidence: fingerprints and DNA from half the Mad Dogs crew, as well as several sets of overalls. The mission was going to be over either way, and it was just him and Riggsy left on the scene.
‘Dammit,’ Bruce moaned. ‘Give us a hand. I can’t get these overalls over my boots.’
‘Stop pissing around,’ Riggsy snapped. ‘Why didn’t you slip your shoes off first?’
Riggsy moved in to give the overalls a tug, but when he bent forward Bruce kicked him in the side of the head with his right boot. As Riggsy slumped flat on his face, Bruce stepped effortlessly out of the overall and crouched down to make sure that he was unconcious.
He took a good look around before pressing the transmitter on his neck.
‘Chloe?’ he said.
‘Loud and clear, Bruce.’
‘Have you heard from James?’
‘I’m listening to the police radio,’ Chloe said. ‘I think he’s inside the airport with Sasha.’
‘Thank god,’ Bruce gasped. ‘I thought he might have been shot.’
‘Well he’s not out of the woods yet.’
‘Listen,’ Bruce said. ‘I’m out on the edge of the Thornton Estate. The street’s called Euphonium. I’ve just taken out one of Sasha’s crew and there’s a van here. It’s full of evidence but it’s been doused in petrol. Can you get some cops out here?’
‘I’ll try.’
‘I’m gonna grab Riggsy’s car keys and get out of here, but when he comes round he’s probably gonna remember that I knocked him out.’
‘Gotcha,’ Chloe said. ‘I’ll call Inspector Rush and tell him that it’s high priority. I’ll make sure Riggsy doesn’t contact any of the other Mad Dogs until you and James are safely out of the picture.’
*
Sasha waited for the cop to turn his back before sprinting out on to the concourse, with James tight behind. They’d reached the fire exit before the armed officer knew what was occurring and Sasha hit the glass door so hard that he knocked an unarmed security guard to the ground. Much to James’ relief, several yellow-bibbed airport staff stood in the doorway, making it too risky for the marksman to fire a shot.