Authors: Stuart Keane
Scott said nothing as he spun the steering wheel and turned into Harley Street, in an attempt to avoid some of the traffic that was bringing Weymouth to a grinding halt. The road was much clearer as he hurtled towards his destination. He noticed a few muted screams of people transfixed by the speeding vehicle and the blaring siren. The curious gaze of the general public saw him hurtle by.
"I have a lead on Ross Rhodes," Scott finally confessed.
A flicker of recognition appeared on the young DI's face, one that reduced the peppered red hue on her cheeks. She brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. "
The
Ross Rhodes?"
"Yep," Scott retorted, clenching the steering wheel.
"Nice one." A smile of trepidation spread across Howes’ face.
"You ready to become fucking famous, Howes?" Scott asked, smiling.
"Fuck no, sir. Who would be suicidal enough to tip the police about Rhodes…surely the person knows he has coppers in his pocket, right? Well, if the rumours are true."
"They’re true, Howes, but I don’t think this woman gives a shit, with all due respect. This girl lost everything because of Rhodes; she saw her family brutally slaughtered at the hands of his employee. I met her once, poor girl. Seventeen and she saw her brothers head…well, it wasn’t pretty."
"How comes I never heard of her?"
"This was some time ago, before your transfer. A year ago, she vanished, just disappeared. Until this morning, I hadn't heard from her since our last interview. It was in the newspapers of course, back then, it must've made her a social outcast, but those things die down very quick nowadays. The first call I get from her, in a year, thanks me for being by her side and confesses to walking into the fucking lion's den. Talk about mixed emotion in a phone call. Rhodes left this girl humiliated and mutilated…it's not going to be pretty."
"You stood by her side?" Howes queried.
"Throughout the whole ordeal. She had no one, no interested family members. Rehab took about two months."
"That's mighty kind of you, sir."
"Just doing my duty, Howes. Questioning her afterwards was awkward; it felt like I was only supporting her to get information about her tragedy."
"She obviously didn’t see it like that."
"I know," Scott uttered. "Now, she's walking into a certain deathtrap to avenge her family."
"I understand that, but surely she isn't psychopathic enough to just walk up to Rhodes and blow his head off?"
Scott looked across at his companion and said nothing.
Howes gulped, the silence speaking volumes, and looked out of the window at the passing scenery. The DCI turned onto New Cavendish Street, the screeching tyres the only sound that filled the cab.
As the car came to a gradual halt, gravity squeezing on her shoulders as the speed decreased, she breathed in and stood back, the Beretta in her left hand poised. The doors slid open silently.
Nothing happened.
No bullets clattered into the lift. No one attacked.
Keeping her finger on the open button, she nudged sideways, peering into the quiet entrance hallway of the fortieth floor. No one stood watching, no armed gunman were awaiting her certain execution. She tapped the button once more and slid from cover, her feet padded by the lush black carpet. The doors closed shut behind her.
The hallway before Dani stretched forward, the rosy red walls etched with symmetrical doorways and tasteful, expensive art. Dani recognised magnificent pieces from Monet, Picasso, Klimt and Dalí. The end of the hallway finished with an expansive floor-to-ceiling window. Dani could see the grey clouds and dull sky beyond, the rain pattering silently against the pane. Much like the foyer on the ground floor, dual leather sofas decorated each side of the reception area surrounding the lifts, a large square of space intended to feel welcoming and comfortable en route to an interview or a meeting or certain death.
Dani walked forward, listening intently, placing her bag of weapons on one of the sofas. Muted murmurs came from a room to the right. She tried to remember the layout from the blueprints and cursed herself for not checking them before leaving the hotel. She did remember the layout of the floor was like a staggered figure of eight, and the lifts were in the centre of it. The hallway looped around gradually behind the lifts. That's where Rhodes’ office sat, protected by several walls built around it. No direct lift access meant anyone meeting him would have to run the gauntlet of his army.
Including her.
Dani breathed out and started forward.
The second lift dinged behind her, catching her off guard.
As she turned, she saw a man emerge in a hurry, his arms cradling several greasy brown bags. The stench of fast food permeated the air as he stepped onto the plush carpet. It took a second for his eyes to latch onto the intruder.
In seconds, he dropped the bags, and reached for a hidden weapon. Dani ran towards him quickly, darting left then right, confusing the man as she sprang, her foot catching the side of his knee, cracking the collateral ligaments, snapping the leg sideways. The man, his face bleaching white from immense agony at the explosion on his patella, howled seconds before Dani rammed her firearm into his face, silencing him. His nose crunched beneath the weapon, spilling warm blood across his cheeks. The man collapsed backwards into the lift with a tremendous clang, his body crashing heavily into the car, bouncing it a few feet down. Dani landed on top of him, ready to silence him again.
It wasn’t needed. The car regained its normal position.
She pulled a bowie knife and slid the blade into his neck, slicing through flesh and muscle, cutting the jugular. Blood began to spurt from the wound, so Dani pulled his collar up over his face. With the sound of gushing blood in her ears, she breathed a sigh of relief.
One more down
.
Dani was on her feet in seconds and exited the lift just as three men entered the hallway.
Exclaims of surprise and shock filled the air. Two men lifted their weapons – Dani noticed they were M16 assault rifles, extremely lethal in close quarters – and dived behind one of the sofas. A single gunshot shattered the quaint elegance of the room and the leather arm exploded above Dani's head, puffing cotton and shredded chips of wood onto her hoodie. She swiped the hood down, requiring her entire peripheral vision, and ducked out of range. The smell of gunpowder tickled her nostrils.
The man held a hand up to his comrades. "You might as well come out, there's nowhere to go."
Dani listened, her options limited. The bulk of her bulletproof vest rubbed against her creased waist, restricting her movements. She could feel sweat trickling down her sides, itching her neck. "I'm just here for Ross Rhodes. Leave now and I'll let you all live."
Howling laughter erupted from the men. The third man slapped his companion on the shoulder as the men whittled down. "Bitch, I don’t think you
know
who Ross Rhodes is. Come out and we won't kill you," the leader said, winking at his fellow soldiers. Both raised their weapons. "Come out or we'll come to you."
She found herself laughing under her breath. "Last warning. I want Rhodes. No one else has to die," Dani said, checking her ammunition. Both pistols were at full capacity, something she had ensured in the lift ride up. Her pockets, now less heavy, jangled with loose bullets.
"Fuck you."
"Yeah, fuck you, whore, we ain't no docile husband you can boss around."
Dani nodded. "Have it your way."
She stood up, something that surprised the men, something that shocked her. The men all held M16's, all pointed in her direction. She was a dead woman walking.
The element of surprise gave her crucial seconds.
Dani shot the third man, the furthest away, in the face. His skull staved in on itself with a soggy crack, blood and brains and teeth splattering onto the wall beside him. He collapsed, dead before he hit the ground, his blood-spattered torso careening into a small table adorned with a pot plant, which toppled and hit the floor with a muted thud.
Dani double tapped the nearest man in the leg, bringing a howl of terror and agony from the soldier as he flopped awkwardly to the ground, dropping his weapon as his hands shot to the hole in his thigh. The second man, stunned by the reflexes of such a small woman, hesitated. Dani shot the fallen man in the head quickly then aimed at the second man, stopping him in his tracks.
"Don't," she said. She collected the fallen M16 from the floor and looped the strap over her shoulder.
He didn’t. The man placed his weapon on the floor and held his hands outwards, signaling surrender. Dani smiled, the scars tugging once more. She bent down and released the magazine from the second weapon, kicking it aside. "Do you know who I am?"
The man shook his head, his eyes not leaving Dani's mutilated face.
She glanced down the hallway, expecting reinforcements at any second. She pocketed the magazine. "Did your boss not brief you?"
He shook his head again. Dani narrowed her eyes, prompting a vocal response. "N…no, he just said not to let anyone up here. To kill on sight."
"Well…you failed, that goes without saying. What will Rhodes do to anyone who…failed him?" Dani stepped in close, pushing her grinning face into the man's personal space, her wide eyes on him every inch of the way. She began circling him slowly, tapping him with her silenced Beretta gently on his leg, his back, then his arm and finally his chest. "Will he kill you?"
The man nodded.
"Will he…do this to you?" Dani jabbed at her face with the Beretta, the cooling silencer marking her bloodied cheek with gun residue. She ran it along her scars, the metal tingling the blemished skin somewhat. "Will he?"
The man shook his head again, sweat trickling down his face. "I don't…don't know."
"He did this to me.
This
is your boss' handiwork. Do you agree with his principles? Mutilating teenagers and slaughtering children in their homes, innocent children?"
"Lady, I –"
"– do you agree with his principles?" She asked, interrupting her foe.
He stared at the woman, his brain bouncing in his skull, panic making him tremble. The urge to vomit, brought on by the puffy scars across the woman's face, was immense. "No," he uttered finally, defeated.
"So, why do you work for him?"
The man shrugged, saying nothing. Dani pistol-whipped him, breaking his cheekbone with an audible crack. He stumbled to one knee, holding his face. "You crazy
bitch
!"
"Why do you work for
him
?"
"I don’t know,
I don’t know
. You're insane!"
"Trust me, this is me being civil. Tell me, soldier, do you possess a comms device, a way of communicating with the other men?"
Spitting blood and a tooth to the carpet, he nodded. "Yes," he said flatly.
Dani smiled. "And how many of you are there?" She pointed to the ground and waved her arm around. "Not counting these unfortunate gentlemen, obviously."
The man licked his lips. "Forty –"
"– if you lie to me, I will blow your bollocks off, got that?"
"Twenty one…nineteen not including Keith and Michael." His eyes wandered to his fallen comrades.
"And that gentleman?" Dani pointed to the lift, its door opening and closing against the protruding leg that stuck out awkwardly. Several hamburgers lay scattered on the carpet. She saw resignation in the man's face, his broken, swelling cheek fused with defeat. "Eighteen."
"What's your name?"
The man hesitated. "Furlong."
She watched the man, and realised he was telling the truth. "If you want to live, Furlong, I need you to do something."
"I'm dead anyway, doesn’t seem I have much of a choice."
Dani said nothing.
*****
"Did you hear that?"
Doug Rinaldi wiped his trembling lips, smearing cold sweat across his palm. The nauseating tendrils of a hangover pulled and poked at his brain, making him feel hot and irritable. The slightest sound multiplied to the roar of a jet engine flying overhead. At first, he thought he was imagining things, and he covered his ears at the deafening blast, but the startled reaction of his comrades told him otherwise.
"Did you hear that? That wasn’t me imagining things, was it?"
Lewis Gilson, his arms crossed, his yellow teeth gnashing a wad of gum, looked at his friend and nodded. "A single gunshot from an automatic weapon? That's Michael's MO, he's very fussy about his ammunition. Sounds like our visitor is here."
Rinaldi adjusted his cap for the seventh time. "How do you know it's an automatic weapon?"
Gilson sneered. "Practice. I'd know that sound anywhere."
Rinaldi gulped. "Shouldn’t we go help or something?"
Gilson shook his head. "We've been ordered to stay put, no matter what. We protect Mr Rhodes and we don’t leave this room unless that phone rings. Andrews' orders."
Rinaldi eyed the black phone on the corner desk. Normally a busty blonde receptionist, handpicked by Rhodes, would be sitting there, her undone blouse – or the bulging contents of such a wardrobe choice – providing a welcome distraction to visitors. Rinaldi swallowed, his alcohol parched tongue making him cough. "What if they’re dead?"
Gilson laughed. "Who, Team Four? Give me a break."
Kindra Sowder chuckled. "You moron. We're up against a teenage
girl
. What's the worst she could do, blind us with her selfie taking skills?" She buffed her M16 with a shirtsleeve, the lethal weapon laid across her thighs. "That woman is walking into a world of bloody hurt. She's outmanned and outgunned. I don’t even know why we have so many people on this."
Rinaldi nodded frantically. "Didn’t you start for Rhodes when you were nineteen?"
Sowder nodded. "Yes, but I'm fucking awesome. One of a kind."
Gilson laughed, his eyes pinned on the door. "One day, Sowder, you'll give me a rematch. Then you won't be so awesome. One day."
"Better get down the gym, pronto. Can't be losing an arm wrestling contest to a woman twice in a month. I doubt your misogynistic pride could handle that."
"Fuck you," he retorted, smiling.
"In your wildest dreams," she spat instantly. She slammed a magazine into the M16 and stood up, brushing her trouser legs. "Do we really have to sit here? I want to kill shit."
"Easy there, Bundy," Gilson uttered. "You'll get your chance. Well, if she makes it this far."
Rinaldi sat in silence, listening, his head booming with every miniscule sound. "I think someone is coming."
Sowder eyed her colleague nervously. "I can't hear a thing. How much did you drink last night?"
"Too much. How was I to know Rhodes would call me in on my day off?"
"You knew the risks when you signed up. Still, beats being a copper, eh?"
"Until four weeks ago, I
was
a fucking copper," Gilson interjected. "I don’t miss it, joining Rhodes was the best decision I ever made. The amount of coppers I knew who lived in fear of our boss…man, it made the job so hard. The wage was fuck all, not worth the risk."
"Explains a lot," Sowder joked. Gilson rolled the gum around his tongue, poking it out at his female counterpart. She said nothing.
Rapid gunfire made all three soldiers stand to attention.
The muted thuds of lethal projectiles hitting unseen objects became a dull soundtrack of broken noise within seconds. Squeals and shouts of pain and agony pierced the noise, providing brief intermissions. The sounds of slaughter filled the small lobby.