Search and Destroy by James Hilton
Which was another question in itself: what the hell was a Nepalese Gurkha doing out in the American desert, miles from the nearest town? More questions than her mind had patience for.
The long shower had revived her somewhat and she realised how hungry she was. She hadn’t eaten anything for over twenty-four hours. The breakfast buffet in the Vegas hotel seemed so long ago. As if on cue, her stomach rumbled.
A light knocking at the door brought her back to the moment. Tansen’s voice enquired, “Are you okay in there?”
Andrea pulled on her clothes. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
* * *
In the living room the men downed their third coffee. Danny was explaining to Tansen how they’d raced away from the burning RV, all three perched on the quad bike. They’d driven flat out any time they’d been on blacktop, with frequent detours to avoid oncoming traffic, veering onto a path that ran parallel to the road. After catching four hours of sleep on the hard ground, Clay had hot-wired a car in a motel parking lot. One guest would be wondering who had enough bad taste to pilfer their beat-up jalopy. With any luck it wouldn’t have been reported stolen until this morning. Danny and Andrea had travelled in the aged Honda while Clay had followed them on the quad bike. He’d then abandoned it in a low depression out of view from the road. That way the two vehicles were less likely to be linked by the cops, or more importantly, any operatives on their trail.
As Andrea emerged from the bathroom the three men stopped their conversation mid-flow. Although still dressed in her tattered clothes, her face was almost unrecognisable, free from blood and dirt. She was attractive in a natural and unpretentious way. Clearly a little self-conscious at the stares, she took a seat next to Danny on the sofa.
Danny was the first to catch himself. “Feel any better for that?”
“Almost human again.” She smiled, with her mouth if not her eyes.
Danny motioned to Clay. “You go next if you want, I’m going to check out the news. See if we’re on it yet.”
Clay shrugged himself out of his seat and moved towards the bathroom without further comment.
Tansen handed Danny the remote control for the wide-screen television. After clicking through a dozen channels, bypassing obligatory reruns of Judge Judy and Everybody Loves Raymond, he found the local morning news. After a short feature on a supposed military victory in Libya, the next story made him sit up. A blonde news anchor was doing her utmost to project gravitas. There was footage of Highway 375 and Officer Ryback’s patrol car. Her report was full of key media buzzwords—murder, missing suspects, death toll, terror, destruction—without giving any real facts. Two men found dead at the scene were as yet unidentified, she said. The camera panned in for lingering close-ups. Their bodies had been covered with sheets; only their boots could be seen.
The third victim had been identified. A formal picture of Officer Ryback in uniform flashed on the screen. Then a picture showing the dead trooper standing with his wife and a young boy, all three smiling broadly. Andrea shifted in her seat. Danny could see she was upset—after all, the cop had died because she was a target. It wasn’t her fault but Danny knew that wouldn’t stop the guilt. Then again, what did he really know about her?
The story flashed back to the anchor, her eyes opening dramatically as she picked up her dialogue. She promised the viewers that they would be going live to that location after the commercial break.
Danny switched channels as the Nesquik Bunny broke into a song about chocolate milk. The next news channel had more information. Police were searching the area for the occupants of the Winnebago, now feared dead. No names were given, only that there were thought to be at least two men involved. There was no mention of Greg and Bruce. Clearly the police hadn’t connected the two crime scenes. Danny frowned. Unless the first crime scene hadn’t yet been found. He turned off the TV and turned to Andrea.
“Well, they haven’t named anybody yet.”
Andrea shook her head. “What about Greg and Bruce? Do you think that means they haven’t found them?” She looked pale, and Danny thought he knew what she was thinking: bodies in the heat of the desert would go downhill fast.
He was saved from answering when Clay emerged from the bathroom, still towelling his hair. “Your turn.”
With the bathroom door shut, Danny stripped off his dirty clothes. He moved his fingers over the large area of pink skin that stretched down his left side, mid-ribs to hip. The injury was the reason behind his visit to the States. See Clay. Heal. R & R…
“An’ how’s that workin’ out for you?” he asked his reflection.
* * *
“Holy shit, what the hell happened to you?” Andrea couldn’t stop herself. Danny had stepped from the bathroom dressed only in his jeans, his shirt and boots dangling from one hand. The sight of his scarred torso elicited a visceral reaction. She felt her cheeks flushing a deep red. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”
Danny waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it. I picked these up before we met. These babies are nothing to do with last night.”
When Danny didn’t offer any more information, she looked at Clay for further clarification. Neither man elaborated, so she let the subject drop.
Tansen filled the awkward silence. “Help yourselves to any food you want. Danny and I will head into town and get some new clothes. What sizes do you all take?”
Andrea and Clay wrote down their measurements on a sheet of notepaper. Tansen read the figures and smiled. “You’ll just have to trust me on colours and fashions.”
Danny had finished dressing and was lacing his boots. He slipped the denim shirt offered by Tansen over his stained T-shirt. “I’m good to go.”
The two men left without any further ceremony. Moments later Andrea heard the Hummer rumble into life.
“Hungry?” asked Clay.
“I could eat my fingers.”
Clay opened the large refrigerator door and pulled out two thick pre-packed rump steaks. He smiled. “I think I can help you out with that.”
Andrea took a seat at the breakfast bar. She felt herself warm to Clay; he seemed more open than his younger brother. “You’re taking this in your stride. Most people would have run a mile. I know I was scared to death.”
Clay shrugged as he busied himself in the kitchen. “This ain’t my first rodeo.”
“Sort of guessed that. Were you in the army or something?”
Clay smiled and flicked a casual salute. “Six years as a Ranger.”
“I’ve seen those on TV. Rangers lead the way, right?”
“Booyah!”
“So what’s the story?”
“Story?”
“You said that you and Danny are brothers…”
Clay smiled knowingly. “Yet he’s Scottish and I’m American, right?”
“It’s kind of got me puzzled.”
“I’ll give you the short version.” Clay busied himself with the steaks. “Our father was a medic in the US Navy. He met Mom in a little place called Dunoon in Scotland. The Navy has a base there. They married. Had the two of us. Later they split… Mom never got used to the constant upheaval of a new home every year. Well, there was more to it than that of course. They divorced in the end. I was old enough to choose where I went. I chose the States. Danny wasn’t old enough and went back to Scotland with Mom. We tried to stay in touch but I had joined up by then and was living my own life.”
“You don’t look much alike,” said Andrea, eyeing the scars that decorated the big man’s features.
“Suppose not. Dad was a typical Texan. I guess I got more from his gene pool. Danny takes after our Scottish side. Small and mean!” Clay smiled.
Andrea grinned back. “He only looks small when he’s next to you.”
Hooking his thumbs into his belt, cowboy style, Clay gave a little swagger. “Yeah, we’re built big all over in Texas.”
Andrea leaned over and swatted at his shoulder. She was suddenly completely at ease for the first time
“I never lie to a pretty gal.”
“Now there’s a lie if I ever heard one!”
Clay’s smile spread across his whole face. “Damn you, woman. Rumbled again.”
“Just get cooking!” She looked as stern as possible for a couple of seconds, then both of them laughed out loud.
13
The man known to his subordinates as “Topcat” tapped the antique bayonet blade against the palm of his left hand. The familiar cold of the steel helped him to think. The contract should have been completed, yet still contact had not been re-established. The four men Magson had assigned were more than capable of such a routine mission. All had terminated targets previously. All would kill without hesitation if the contract called for it.
Andrea Chambers was a major security risk, that was clear from the dossier on his desk. She was in possession of highly sensitive stolen data linked to the security of both the United Kingdom and the United States. The report did not specify what the data was or what it could be used for. That didn’t trouble him. Many contracts were accepted without such information. They gave a clear objective and a time-scale. No embellishments. All the dossier told him was that she’d received a USB flash drive from another terrorist collaborator and was transporting it to an unknown contact in America.
Topcat had been playing catch-up from the start. Chambers had already flown from Heathrow to Las Vegas by the time the contract had been issued. Time was of the essence: find the woman, recover the flash drive. Once the latter had been achieved, terminate the target.
The team had been assembled quickly. He’d picked four men from a possible twenty. Two he’d used several times before, the other two he had chosen on the recommendation of one of his squad leaders. All four were seasoned operatives. All had served in the armed forces of their respective homelands. The orders were clear and basic: a simple snatch and grab. Elimination of any other persons who may have seen or come into contact with the target or the data on the drive was authorised. Elimination of the target once the package was secured.
The clunky handset of his Iridium 9600 satellite phone remained defiantly silent, propped against well-worn hardback copies of Stephen King’s The Stand and Jane’s Guns Recognition Guide. Quality reading material when things were slow.
The bayonet tapped out an impatient rhythm on his palm once again. He glanced first at the wall clock, then his wristwatch. Both told the same time. His cheek twitched as he considered his options. Still the handset remained silent.
With a grunt, Topcat sheathed the bayonet in its leather case. He turned to his desktop computer and tapped in a sequence of numbers, letters and symbols. The screen accepted his password and another couple of agitated taps loaded a global tracking program.
The four men whom he’d dubbed “the Apostles” had not yet been chipped with RFID implants but the satellite phone that Matthew carried was tracker enabled, even when powered off. That, at least, would show the general location of the team. The screen displayed a satellite view of North America. He tapped the zoom icon. The screen blurred for a few seconds then cleared to show the state of Nevada. Another zoom. The screen now showed an area to the north-west of Las Vegas. He huffed and leaned in. If contact had not been made by the unit within another quarter-hour then Topcat resolved to break protocol and phone them to demand a status report. He’d not had complete faith in Matthew’s leadership capabilities but knew that some men flourished in the field. He himself had been held in contempt by some of his commanding officers during his time with the Parachute Regiment. He also knew from personal experience that those who excelled in the classroom were not always the same men who did so under fire. So he’d given Matthew a shot at running his own squad.
He looked again at the contract dossier. It had come to him via Charles Banks of the CHSS, who had passed more than a few unofficial jobs his way over the years. Lucrative for TSI, but Banks made his skin crawl. Not a soldier, that was certain. The men of the Coalition and Homeland Security Service worked in the shadows. Trident Solutions International at least kept part of its work in the public eye.
Sharon poked her head through the door with a quizzical expression. “Did you call, Mr Carter?”
He looked up, not realising he’d spoken out loud. “No, just clearing my throat.” Then as an afterthought, “I could use a cup of coffee about now.”
His secretary smiled, nodded in acquiescence and left the room. Less than a minute later a silver coffee pot and a plate of digestive biscuits were placed on his desk. He smiled at her in appreciation and waved her away when she offered to pour. The door closed silently behind her. He broke a biscuit in half and let it sit on his tongue. Delicious. Soldiers, biscuits and beer: three of the few things Britain was still good at producing.
When the coffee was finished he checked the clock again and picked up the satellite handset. The four-digit code lit up the display and a soft continuous purring ensued. No answer. The receiving phone half a world away was still switched off. A chill crawled its way up his spine. In his considerable experience, he knew silence was seldom golden.
“Shit!”
Sharon’s head appeared at the door again. “Sir?”
“Get Magson on the phone. We may need another team.”
14
Danny rested his arm on the Hummer’s window frame as he and Tansen rolled into town. The main street of Castillo was a low-key affair. Single-storey buildings lined both sides of the two-lane road. It was one of the few towns left in the civilised world without a Starbucks or a McDonald’s. Danny smiled as they passed a White Castle burger joint and a coffee house called Tarbucks. The big boys would arrive eventually, sure as dry rot.
The town was a world away from its flamboyant neighbour, Las Vegas. A single lone casino sat quiet on the east side of town and it had none of the glitz of the Vegas equivalents. It was a dull breezeblock building with a red pagoda-style roof, now weathered to an anaemic pink. A manic-looking plastic rabbit peeked out from the flickering neon sign.
A bored doorman leaned against the wall at the main entrance and smoked a stubby cigar. He glanced momentarily at Tansen’s Hummer, perhaps wondering if they were going to stop, then went back to his smoke. Danny avoided eye contact. Doormen and meter maids tended to remember new faces and it suited Gunn not to be noticed.
“You’ve really taken to the life out here.”
Tansen smiled. “I love it. Nobody bothers me. I can ride a horse whenever I want, and shoot my pistols without getting a visit from the law.”
“I was sorry to hear about Raj. She was a lovely lady.”
“She only had three years in America but she loved every minute.” He shook his head, dark shadows for eyes. “Lung cancer, and she never smoked a cigarette in her life.”
“Life’s one strange highway, all right.” Danny studied the passing buildings, his soldier’s instinct never dormant. “Hey, you’re still a young man, I’m sure there’s plenty of cowgirls more than willing to take you for a test drive.”
Tansen cocked his head to one side. “Nah, I married my Raj for life. I know she’s dead but I still consider myself married. Does that make sense to you?”
“It does.” Danny dropped the subject, leaving his Nepalese friend to his own thoughts.
The Hummer rolled to a gentle stop in front of a double-fronted clothing store. The store sign read BRANNIGAN’S in bold Western script. An old-fashioned spring-mounted bell over the door tinkled as they entered. They were met by a pleasant aroma of sandalwood and leather.
Danny chose two mid-sized backpacks for Clay and Andrea, then moved to the ladieswear section. He glanced at the sizes that Andrea had written on the slip of paper. He made a few calculations, doing his best to convert the UK sizes that she’d supplied to their US equivalents. He picked out one pair of black canvas trousers and a dark-blue pair of Wranglers. A green tartan blouse and a black sweatshirt went into the basket as well. Two plain whit
The two men met up at the Hummer, where Danny loaded the bag of clothes and the backpacks into the tailgate. “Is there a RadioShack in town?”
Tansen pointed to the opposite side of the street. “There’s a store that sells electronics at the end of the block.”
“Good, I just need a couple of throwaway cell phones.”
“I’ll wait for you in here.” The Gurkha wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead.
Danny heard the air con spring into life as Tansen clambered back into the vehicle. Danny smiled to himself. How quickly we grow accustomed to the comforts of life, he mused. A few years ago Tansen could have traversed Death Valley in his jockey shorts with nothing more than his knife and a litre of water for company. Maybe they were all getting soft in their old age.
The electronics shop was well stocked and carried a wide range of audio and video equipment. Bypassing the latest iPhones and tablets, Danny strolled over to a revolving display stand that was filled with pre-paid cell phones. He selected three cheap Motorola handsets. They were probably a few years out of style but Danny was not interested in appearances. He returned the smile that the girl behind the counter gave him. She was very pretty and reminded Danny of a young Julia Roberts. She had that same extra-wide smile going on. “Have you got car chargers for these?”
The girl turned to the shelf behind her, sending her long ponytail swinging through the air. “This is a universal charger. You just select the appropriate jack adapter to fit your model of phone. That should work.”