Authors: Dan Latus
J
ac obviously had a better eye than me. A painter’s eye. Now I looked where she was pointing, I could see what she had seen. There was a patch in the corner that was a different texture to the rest of the ceiling. Smoother, and with an edge to it. It was about eighteen inches square.
‘I think it’s just plaster,’ she said.
I could see what she meant. Originally, something had been protruding through the ceiling, perhaps a big pipe. For some reason it had become redundant and had been removed, leaving some patchwork to be done in the ceiling.
On tip-toes I could just touch the patch with my finger ends. I scratched it. Paint flaked off, but nothing else.
I unfastened my belt buckle and pulled the belt loose from the waistband of my trousers. I reached up again and rammed a corner of the buckle at the ceiling patch. It made an impression. No doubt about it now! That wasn’t concrete.
I scratched and dug again. A small piece of material detached itself and fell to the floor. I picked it up and crumbled it between my finger and thumb.
‘You’re right,’ I told Jac. ‘It is plaster.’
I turned to Misha, who was watching intently, as was Sasha.
‘I can’t reach very well, Misha. You’re lighter than me. If you go up on my shoulders—’
He was on his feet before I had finished speaking. I stooped to let him on to my back. He took the belt and began clawing feverishly at the ceiling. A shower of plaster dust fell on me. I closed my eyes, ducked my head and concentrated on trying to stay steady.
After a few minutes I let him down. When I looked up, I could see he had made a big impression. He had exposed a piece of mesh of some sort that the plaster had been layered on.
‘We should be able to just pull that down,’ I said.
‘Let me try,’ Sasha said.
She climbed on to me and reached for the mesh. I felt her weight leave me as she clung on to the mesh and let herself drop full length.
But what we wanted didn’t happen. Either it was more securely fixed than I had expected or she just wasn’t heavy enough.
‘Hang on!’ I told her.
Then I caught hold of her round the waist and pulled down. That did it. In an avalanche of plaster and dust, the mesh and the entire plaster plug came out. I let go of Sasha and let her drop. Then we all stooped over, coughing our hearts out for a couple of minutes.
When I recovered I glanced up and marvelled at what we had created: a hole! We had created a hole wide enough even for someone like me to squeeze through.
Jac insisted that I lift her up first to see where the hole led. Why not? She deserved first go.
‘It’s a kitchen,’ she called down softly. ‘There’s no one here.’
That was good enough for me. I hoisted Sasha next. Then Misha, who reached down to take my hand so that I could get up, too.
We were in an old-style kitchen, perhaps a scullery. I could see now exactly why the corner had been patched. There was a big waste pipe coming down the wall. Originally it had gone straight down into the cellar, and then, perhaps, through the cellar floor to join a drain. For some reason that arrangement had not been satisfactory. Perhaps the drain, deep underground, hadn’t worked very well, causing flooding in the cellar. So the downpipe had been cut off and routed through the outside wall of the kitchen in which we now stood. Lucky for us.
I glanced round at the others. Apart from our covering of white dust, we all seemed to be in good shape. Time to get out. I had released the hostages – all three of them – and now we could make good our escape.
Wrong!
I hadn’t reckoned with Sasha.
‘No,’ she said. ‘We must go to the boat. Borovsky cannot be allowed to escape.’
‘What can you do?’ I said. ‘He has an army of men. Better to escape and tell the British authorities. The Royal Navy can stop him.’
‘
We
can stop him,’ she insisted. ‘Misha and me. It is why we are here. There is a way.’
I had known she was a fanatic. She could never have survived her ordeal otherwise. But this seemed a step too far.
‘If we are lucky,’ I said slowly, carefully, to avoid any
misunderstanding, ‘we can get out of here. If not, Borovsky will kill us all.’
Sasha shook her head stubbornly.
I looked at Misha. He seemed less gung-ho. He had been locked up for longer, and had had more time to consider his fate. Surely he knew that what Sasha was saying was madness? He spoke to her. She came back at him with an angry torrent. He backed down. That decided me.
‘OK,’ I said. ‘We go our separate ways. You two can do what you like. Jac and I will make our own way out of here.’
I looked at Jac. She nodded agreement.
‘Good luck,’ I said, making for the door.
But it wasn’t that easy. I should have known it wouldn’t be. I should have known better.
M
y strategy was to make our way upstairs and walk out of the front door. It was disappointing that Sasha wanted no part of such a difficult and dangerous plan, but there were limits to my powers of persuasion and clearly I had reached them. So we split up and I headed for a flight of stone stairs without looking back. Jac followed me. I guessed the other way led to the entrance to the tunnel, but I didn’t want to know any more about that. I’d had enough.
But by the time we reached the top of the stairs Sasha and Misha had already run into trouble. I heard sounds of struggle and then a torrent of what sounded like abuse from Sasha. It ended abruptly. I stopped and stood still, Jac beside me, and waited. I heard nothing more.
I looked at Jac and grimaced. ‘Wait here,’ I said. ‘If I’m not back in a couple of minutes, make your way to the front door and get out. Just get out. OK?’
She hesitated.
‘Do it, Jac!’
She sighed and nodded. I leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.
‘Take care, Frank,’ she whispered.
Lights had been switched off down below. The basement was very dimly lit now. Emergency lighting only, and not much of that. I edged down the stairs, wondering what I would find.
No sign of Sasha and Misha. They could have moved quickly along the corridor but I knew that wasn’t it. Something had happened to them right here. I stood still for a moment, listening. I couldn’t see much. Faint light from the kitchen we had just left, a yard or two along the corridor – that was about it. In the distance I could hear people doing things. Talking, the occasional shout. The screech of heavy items being pushed across a stone floor.
I stepped off the bottom step and peered into the gloom along the corridor. That was when I realized I was not alone.
A gloved hand and jacket cuff wrapped itself across my mouth and face, and pulled my head back. At the same time, something hard was jammed painfully into my back. I made no attempt to fight back. I stood still. Shocked as I was, I still had enough sense to know I was in no position to do anything but get myself shot or knifed by fighting back.
A hood was put over my head and drawn tight. What light there had been was totally gone now. I waited for the next thing to happen.
Pressure on my back started me walking. I counted my steps, all the way to thirty. Then I was made to stop. I heard a door creak open. I was pressed forward, still without a word being spoken. I heard the door close again and a key being turned.
I stood still for a few moments, waiting. Nothing else
happened. I reached up and pulled the cloth bag from my head. I could see again. Not much. The light was too dim. But I could see two figures on the floor. They weren’t moving.
‘Sasha?’ I whispered.
One of the bodies moved.
Thank God!
They had been dealt with proficiently and quickly, more so than me. Perhaps time was running out when my turn had come. I slackened the cords binding Sasha’s legs and arms, and removed tape from her mouth. Then I turned to Misha.
‘Thank you, Frank!’ Sasha was breathless and enraged. ‘Who…?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said.
But I did. I could make a good guess at who was lurking in the shadows so very secretly and efficiently. I was even beginning to guess why. Luckily, they hadn’t been sure who we were, or we might not have been alive now.
It took a few minutes to free Sasha and Misha. Just as I was starting to say we had to try to get out and catch up with Jac, I heard the key turning in the lock. The door sprang open, a powerful light was shone in our faces and several armed men entered the room.
‘You will come with us,’ one of them said.
There was very little choice – again! We went with them.
We were taken outside and across a cobbled yard to an adjacent building that was some sort of workshop. I noted big timber benches and lots of packing material. Power tools and empty crates looked to have been in use recently. We were herded into a huge lift and pressed at gunpoint into a corner.
I contemplated making a fight of it, but not for long; the odds were not good. Besides, we still had time. If they had been going to eliminate us soon, they would have done it by now. It looked to me as if we were going to discover everything we had always wanted to know about Borovsky’s tunnel, and perhaps about
Meridion
as well. We were hostages again. The negotiations couldn’t have finished yet.
Looking around as we emerged from the lift, it was clear that big money had been spent here. This was no ruined Victorian tunnel newly reopened after a century of disuse. Borovsky had upgraded it into a state-of-the-art highway between Meridion House and the harbour. Modern lighting had been installed. Rails had been laid, and a miniature electric train ran upon them at a fair speed.
Some of the wagons in the train were flat-bed for carrying bulky loads. But we were installed in seats on an open-top little charabanc of the kind used in modern mines. Our guards were alert and vigilant. Somehow I felt they were not the people who had captured Jac and me, and that was puzzling. These were Borovsky’s men, not SAS. We had been handed over.
Whoever this lot were, it was obvious we were in serious trouble now. My one consoling thought was that there was a possibility that at least Jac was out of it. They hadn’t found her. I wondered if anyone had even realized we were only three now, not four.
The little train carried only ourselves and our guards. The heavy stuff must all have gone by now. My guess was that Borovsky’s departure arrangements were just about complete. What hadn’t been loaded wasn’t going. It was a pity that that didn’t include us.
When the train stopped, there was a slight delay while one of the guards checked outside the tunnel entrance, presumably for dog walkers or surfers who might have witnessed our abduction. Then we were hustled across the beach and along the jetty to board the boat. The way
Meridion
was throbbing and bobbing about told me my guess had been correct. She was ready to launch out into the North Sea.
I thought of the clifftop watchers. Where were they? What the hell were they doing? This was when whistles should be blown and efforts made to keep the boat where it was. But there was no sign of anyone intending to interfere with Borovsky’s activities.
The reason, I had to conclude, was that the SAS – and whatever higher authority was involved – had no intention of stopping or even staying Borovsky’s departure. The national security interest Bill Peart had referred to must be in letting him continue without hindrance.
Why would that be? If it wasn’t simply a cock-up, perhaps HMG supported what he was doing? That was a thought that gave me no comfort whatsoever. The little guy doesn’t get much consideration when affairs of state take precedence.
I wondered which part of Borovsky’s activities HMG liked – art or guns. Did they even know he traded in both?
Once aboard, we were installed in yet another prison cell. This one was below decks and pretty basic. We had exchanged a stone box for a steel box. Otherwise the facilities were the same: zero. Perhaps we wouldn’t be staying long, not that I cared to contemplate that possibility.
Sasha and Misha were quiet, surprisingly so in her case. I
just hoped that, like me, they were trying to figure a way out.
I caught Sasha’s eye. She grinned.
‘I’m glad you find something to smile about,’ I said. ‘Any idea what’s going on?’
‘Borovsky will try to negotiate with Moscow, like he said. And they will say no, no trade.’
Great.
‘That doesn’t sound good from our point of view, Sasha.’
‘It could be worse.’
I wondered how.
‘The guards will return soon,’ Misha contributed.
‘Oh?’
‘They have gone to find rope, or something, to tie us. I heard them say.’
‘Handcuffs, I think,’ Sasha added.
‘Oh, good!’ I said, summoning all my enthusiasm for that prospect.
If they were right, we had minutes left to do something. Desperately, I wandered around our small cell. My conclusion was that without an oxy-acetelyne burner we would struggle to get out.
‘Frank!’ Sasha whispered.
I turned towards her. She leaned forward and pulled up her trouser leg slightly. To my astonishment, I saw the handle of a serious-looking knife sticking out of her boot.
I
gaped at her.
‘I took it from one of the guards,’ she explained. ‘So now we have a chance.’
Perhaps we did. Not much of one, but still a chance. We’d better make the most of it.
Before we could make any plans, the door clanged and swung open. A man stepped forward, carrying handcuffs. Two more followed him, carrying automatic weapons. The two gunmen separated quickly, giving themselves space while they covered their colleague.
The guy with the handcuffs walked past me and leaned down to snap one set of cuffs to a metal loop welded onto a steel girder. Then he moved on to another beam, and another loop.
I could see what the plan was, and I didn’t like it. We were each going to be fastened by one hand to a girder. Then we were all going to be stuck here until Borovsky reached the end of his negotiations. Whatever the outcome, and whatever he subsequently decided, we wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing about it.
To hell with that!
There wasn’t much space in that cell, hold or whatever the
correct nautical term for it was. With my back turned to the two gunmen, I took a pace and a half backwards to allow the guy with the cuffs more room to do his job. I hoped it was enough.
There wasn’t much time. Two of the cuffs were already snapped into place, and the third set was being raised towards the intended steel loop. Next, in a couple of seconds, the guy placing them would probably reach for Misha’s wrist, Misha being the nearest of us to him. No time left at all, really. Unfortunately, in the past thirty seconds I hadn’t been able to catch Sasha’s eye and warn her.
I launched myself backwards and spun round on my right foot, reaching for the nearest guard’s weapon. Even before I touched it, I swung my left leg hard and caught the guard somewhere with my boot. It was his shin I hit, and probably broke. He buckled forward with pain and shock. My hands wrapped round his weapon and forced it up. His finger pulled the trigger briefly before my elbow smashed into his face. He fell backwards, with me desperately trying to pull the gun out of his hands.
Nice try, Frank, but all through the microseconds in which the action took place I knew somewhere in my consciousness that it wasn’t fast enough. The second gunman had plenty of time to respond.
But I couldn’t stop now. The gun came free. From a crouched position, I launched myself bodily towards the second gunman.
I missed. He wasn’t there. I hit the floor hard and rolled, crashing into the bulwark on the far side. Something was wrong. I knew it by then: I hadn’t been hit.
I sprang upright, and my eyes and brain took in the scene. Then I slumped back against the wall and sucked breath back into my lungs.
‘Bravo, Frank!’ Sasha cried.
She was on her feet. Misha was bent over the guard who had been putting the handcuffs in place. The guy was struggling. Misha jerked his head up sharply. I heard his neck snap.
My eyes sought and found the second gunman. He was on the floor, and also not moving. I guessed a stray bullet had fortuitously found him.
I was wrong. I moved towards him but Sasha beat me to it. She reached down and pulled her knife out of his throat. Before I could do anything else, she stepped past me and sliced open the throat of the guard I had hit. He wasn’t going to get up again, even if his leg wasn’t broken.
‘That wasn’t necessary,’ I said, still panting heavily.
‘Just in case,’ she said briskly.
‘Thank you, Frank,’ Misha said warmly. ‘You gave us a chance.’
Some art students. Why the hell had I ever been worried about either of them?
What next?
We had a mini-conference. Escape was pretty high on my list of priorities. I didn’t know how to do it, but I was going to give it a go. Sasha had other priorities.
‘We have our duty,’ she informed me solemnly. ‘Misha and me, we know what we must do. We must stop Borovsky.’
‘We’ve been lucky,’ I snapped. ‘Let’s just think about getting out of here.’
‘Our mission comes first,’ Misha confirmed.
‘You’ll die,’ I said bleakly.
‘If necessary,’ Sasha agreed.
I felt the boat heel over as it left the jetty and began to build up speed. Soon we would be in deep water and whoever was driving this thing would really put his foot down. It was no time for disagreeing amongst ourselves.
‘So what’s the plan?’ I asked.
‘First, we kill Borovsky. Then we blow up the boat.’
‘Good luck!’ I said, as I headed for the door.
I didn’t know if we would be able to get out of the hold, never mind do what they or I wanted to do. But staying where we were didn’t seem a great idea.
‘Frank!’
I paused and looked back. Sasha came towards me, a smile on her face and the knife in her hand.
I reached out and grabbed her knife hand but it was limp. She smiled and reached up to kiss me lightly on the lips. ‘For everything,’ she whispered. ‘Thank you.’
‘Yeah. You, too.’ I gave her a hug. ‘Coming with me?’
She shook her head. ‘You go, Frank. Go!’ she added, giving me a push.
I went.