Blackout (Sam Archer 3) (27 page)

'Talk to me.'

I'm afraid it’s both good and bad. We captured one of the Panthers. He's in one of the interrogation cells right now. We think he might be the leader.'

Pause.

'The bad?'

'We didn't get to McCarthy in time. They killed him.'

‘Shit. How?'

'Bazooka attack. Hit his car in the street.'

Pause.

'Is everything over there secure?' Porter asked.

Silence. Cobb didn't respond, and the connection went fuzzy.

'Sir?' he repeated.

'Sorry,'
Cobb's voice said, the line cutting in and out.
'The connection is bad. We’re almost at the house. My in-laws are away, so we have the place to ourselves. Blessing in disguise.'

Pause.

'We need to get this man talking. Find out where the rest of his team are. Who’s going to lead the interrogation?'

'I was thinking Fox or Archer, sir. Since Frost retired, those two have taken the brunt of it. They're both pretty solid.'

'OK. If one of them can't get through, use the other. But tell them to stay on their guard. We know how dangerous this man is. And keep me posted. How’s Agent Jackson?'

Porter glanced at the American, who had his back turned, watching the captive closely through the glass.

'He's fine, sir.'

'OK. Keep me in the loop.'

The call ended. Porter turned to Jackson and the rest of First Team, who were standing there in a line watching the soldier, like a jury.

'Cobb's almost there,' Porter told them.

Jackson nodded. 'Good.'

Porter looked over at Archer. 'Ready for some face-time?'

Archer nodded, feeling the cut over his eye from the head-butt the soldier gave him. He’d had a headache ever since.

'Let's do it.'

TWENTY FOUR

The Special Forces soldier didn't react when Archer entered the room.

It was totally silent in there, the lights glaring down from the roof-light, bright and quiet. Archer closed the door with a click that echoed around the room. He had no folder in his hands. There was no tape recorder on the table between him and the soldier. The recording equipment was rigged up in the room already and every word was recorded from outside. Normally, in interrogations such as these, the handcuffs on the prisoner would be off already, but this time they were definitely staying on.

Archer moved forward, taking the empty chair across from the man.

A long silence followed. The lights in the room were
stark
and unforgiving, and they gave Archer an opportunity to fully examine the soldier in front of him up close. His physical presence was intimidating. He was wearing black combat overalls and black boots, and the seams of the clothing were tight around his shoulders and arms as his hands were pulled back behind him from the cuffs. He was built like a doorframe. His hair was dark and ruffled from the balaclava, and he had rough stubble on his chin and cheeks.

'What's your name?' Archer asked him.

The man looked at him.

His face was strong and hard, chiselled from stone, dark eyebrows.

He had dark, blue, unemotional eyes, as cold as Arctic frost, and they settled on Archer's face.

'In English, my name would be Wulf,' the man said, his Eastern European accent strong, his voice deep.

'Is that your real name?'

The soldier paused.

'You mean the name my parents gave me?’

‘Yes.’

‘No.'

Pause.

'You and your team have killed seven men today. I saw you kill McCarthy. That's a life sentence in prison.'

He paused.

'But you guys also murdered people in the US. Former soldiers. Unlike us, the Americans still have the death penalty. They'll push for extradition. Then the lethal injection. For you and all your friends.'

'Where is the man called Cobb?' Wulf asked, ignoring him.

'He's here. He's outside, watching.'

'You're lying. Only a fool would stay here.'

Pause.

Wulf’s eyes examined Archer’s face, and his expression.

'You think you've won, don't you, young man?'

'Sure feels that way, doesn’t it?’

‘Does it?’

‘Take a good look around you.'

Wulf smiled.

It was unnerving.

'You haven't won. Everyone in this building is going to die.'

'That seems pretty unlikely right now.’ Pause. ‘Besides, what did we ever do to you?'

‘You got in the way.’

Pause.

'Where are the rest of your friends?' Archer asked him.

'Where is Cobb?' Wulf asked back.

'You're in no position to ask questions.'

'Yes, I am. You should respect me, boy. You are just a police officer. Someone like you wouldn't last an hour in our life.'

'Is that so?'

Wulf looked at him, his blue eyes almost freezing over with frosty contempt. 'Look at you. You are soft and weak. You live in comfort. My parents died when I was a child. I killed my first man when I was eleven. I spent fifteen years in a prison where you wouldn’t survive one night. And you think you can beat me?'

He laughed, filling the silence.

It was harsh and deep, and echoed around the room.

'I'm going to kill you. All of you. Then I will execute Cobb. Wherever he is, wherever he is hiding, I will find him.'

Pause.

The room was silent.

'Cobb had nothing to do with what happened.'

'He freed the men who did it. That makes him guilty.'

'It wasn't his fault. He didn't know what those men did.'

'He should have left them to die. But he gave them freedom. And they put me and my men in jail. They murder our families and we are the ones who are punished for it.'

'Move on. You can’t change the past.'

'They shot both my children in the head. They were twins. Three years old. A boy and a girl. My wife was shot as she tried to protect them.'

'I'm sorry. But move on. Cobb didn’t pull the trigger.'

‘Tell me where he is.'

Pause.

‘Why did the KLA expel you?’

The man looked at him. Said nothing.

‘They abandoned you. And I think your men have abandoned you too. You’re all alone.’

Wulf went to reply, but suddenly, the room went dark.

The lights had cut out.

As Archer looked around in the sudden blackness, confused, he heard that laugh again, deep and threatening, rumbling around the pitch black like distant thunder.

'They're coming,' Wulf said. 'You're going to die, young man.'

'What the hell was that?' Deakins said, out by the reception desk.

He was with two other members of Second Team, all three standing in the darkness, their visibility slightly better than down the corridor due to the lights from the streets outside. A few moments later, Agent Jackson and Porter appeared through the door from the corridor, both of them looking anxious.

'Power cut?' Porter asked.

'No, it-'

But before Deakins could respond, there was a smash of glass. Beside Porter, Jackson was thumped backwards, blood sprayed all over the wall and onto Deakins and Porter, as the CIA agent took a bullet in the neck.

He fell back, collapsing on the ground.

'Shit!'
Deakins shouted.

The whole team crouched low and took cover, hustling fast through the doors back into the dark corridor of the holding cells. Porter grabbed Jackson's collar, pulling him into the corridor, blood smearing on the ground under the wounded man as Porter dragged him behind the cover of the door. Jackson was clutching at the wound, his eyes wide with shock and fear, and blood pulsed out of him through his fingers, already soaking the top of his shirt and suit jacket and leaving a stained crimson trail on the white floor.

'C'mon Port!'
Deakins shouted, helping him with Jackson.

There was a
thump
and a kick of plaster as another bullet hit the wall by Porter's head and he fell back into the corridor with Jackson, Deakins locking the door. Heaving Jackson over his shoulder, Porter and Deakins hustled down the corridor, towards their team-mates, most of whom were standing in the corridor, confused.

'Get back!'
they shouted.

And behind them, the door suddenly exploded, as it took a rocket from a bazooka head on.

The force of the blast smashed it off its hinges and the twisted frame flew down the corridor, coming to rest in a smoking dented heap on the floor. The officers had their MP5s to hand but were forced to scatter for cover, ducking into holding and interrogation cells as automatic gunfire suddenly erupted down the corridor from the far end, the silhouettes of three men lit up in the smoke and streetlights, muzzle flashes of automatic weapons lighting up the smoky darkness. Moving out into the corridor from the viewing room of the interrogation cell, his MP5 in his hands, Chalky crouched low and tried to take a closer look at who was coming.

Three men, dressed in black fatigues, and they each had a Kalashnikov rifle in their hands.

Chalky and Fox started to fire back, but the three men had the corridor and they unloaded with the AK-47s, pinning the team further and further back, the air filled with the brutal flash and echo of automatic gunfire, bullets tearing into the corridors and smashing windows. Chalky and Fox were forced to retreat, bullets smashing into the walls and glass panels on doors.

Back inside the interrogation room, Archer turned in the darkness to try and locate Wulf.

He heard the sudden scrape of a chair as the man moved and then something smashed into the back of his head.

As Bird and Bug kept the rate of fire up in the corridor, Spider pushed open the door and moved inside. Wulf was in there, standing over an unconscious Archer. The man raised his weapon at the officer's head, but Wulf shouted
No
in Albanian.
Cobb,
he mouthed afterwards, tapping his temple. He turned, laying his hands on the table behind him, and his lieutenant pulled a knife and cut through the plasti-cuffs.

'This way,'
he shouted, over the gunfire in the corridor.

Wulf nodded, but on his way grabbed Archer, dragging the unconscious man with him by the collar. They moved back out into the corridor, moving fast towards the exit. A young woman with dark hair and glasses was cowering by the stairs. Spider hit her in the face hard with the butt of his rifle, knocking her out instantly, he grabbed her and dragged her with them too as she started to fall to the ground.

Down the far end of the corridor, the ARU were returning fire but hadn't put any of the Panthers down. Chalky risked a glance and saw the man called Wulf rushing towards the
exit
with another soldier, as the two other Panthers kept up their fire to pin the ARU officers back.

He saw Wulf was dragging someone behind him, a limp figure.

Archer.

'They've got Arch!'
he shouted.

Turning, he ran across the corridor and up a flight of stairs into the ops room, bullets shredding into the wall, just missing him.

Upstairs, the tech team were all huddled in Cobb's office behind the safety glass again, but Chalky ignored them, sprinting over to the smashed windows from the gunfight earlier in the day. He ripped the brown paper covering the holes out of the way and started firing down on the soldiers who were at their vehicle, a white van. The men dove for cover as Chalky's bullets hit the car, smashing the windows and the brake lights. The other two soldiers started returning fire as they ran to the vehicle and Chalky was forced to take cover.

Looking back down, he saw them pile into the van, pulling the doors shut, and he ran for the stairs, sprinting down them and running through the front door into the parking lot as the Panthers sped off towards the exit. He paused, lifting his MP5 and firing on full auto at the van, blowing out one of the tyres and smashing the rear brake lights. Once the sub-machine gun clicked dry, he dropped the weapon and pulled the Glock and sprinted after them,
racing
across the parking lot as fast as he could.

The van screeched out into the street, turning a sliding right, and Chalky ran through the exit and turned, sprinting after them down the road. One of the soldiers fired back, hitting a car beside Chalky, but the car gained speed and started to
pull
away. No matter how fast Chalky sprinted, he was losing ground. In desperation, he continued to chase after it but the driver put his foot down and the van sped off into the night.

Chalky staggered to a halt, completely out of breath, desperate and scared, knowing Nikki and Archer were in the van with the four soldiers. He looked down the road but all he saw were streetlights. They were gone.