TWENTY THREE
'They'll have taken him back to their police station,' Worm said, in Albanian, as the group of soldiers gathered at the command post. 'I recognised their uniforms. Each man had lettering on the back of his vest. ARU. The same Unit that Grub and Crow attacked.'
In the dark room, illuminated only by the glare of the two televisions, Bug, Bird and Spider listened closely.
'You know where this place is?' Spider asked, also speaking in their native tongue. When they had set-up the operation, Spider had been in charge of the US-based foursome and was unfamiliar with locations this side of the Atlantic. Worm nodded.
'Yes sir. But I also have good news. I followed Cobb and Jackson and the officers earlier. They arrived at some kind of hospital. I couldn't follow them inside, but moved around the building into the garden and saw them before they shut the curtains. I saw who was in the bed.'
He paused.
'Corporal Simon Fletcher.'
The men looked at each other. Bug hawked and spat on the floor.
'Son of a bitch,' Bird muttered.
‘That is good news,' Spider said to Worm, nodding.
Silence followed. His piece said, Worm looked over at Spider. With their commander gone, Spider was the new man in command, but the men had just as much faith in him as they did in their commanding officer. Spider was the kind of lieutenant that would never challenge for the top position, loyal, willing to die to save his leader. The perfect right hand man, and a good soldier in his own right.
'OK,' he said, in Albanian. 'We arm up, then go to this police station. We take back our leader, and kill anyone who gets in the way. Then we go to the airport, pick up Flea, then head to the hospital and kill Fletcher. You said there is a long garden outside this man's room?'
'Yes, sir,' Worm said.
'Good. Flea can take him with the rifle. We won't need to move inside.'
'What about Cobb and Jackson, sir?' Bird asked.
'They won't still be at the station surely,' Bug said. 'Only a pair of fools would still be there.'
'So what do we do?' Bird asked.
Spider smiled in the darkness.
'Never underestimate human stupidity. We take a good look and see if they are there. And if they aren't, we'll get one of the other policemen to tell us where they are.'
*
At the ARU's headquarters, the atmosphere on the lower level of the building was one of both apprehension and excitement. The capture of the soldier felt like a big victory, even though they all knew there were five more of these men still out there. After Fletcher’s warnings about the squad and their aura of being Special Forces, the wattage of their perceived invincibility had been dimmed slightly. With one of them in handcuffs, it was physical proof to the team that these men were mortal, the same as the rest of them, and that they could be subdued and arrested like anyone else. The captive had been placed inside one of the interrogation cells, alone. The room was simple, two chairs either side of a desk. The lights in the room were bare and bright, throwing harsh light into every corner and over the soldier in the centre of the room.
The ARU was a squad that dealt with terrorists and hardened criminals on a regular basis, so they were used to dealing with some of the toughest and most violent men out there. But they had never encountered a Special Forces commander like this before. Staring straight ahead, arms bound behind him by Chalky’s plasti-cuffs, the man cast a hulking, intimidating figure. He hadn't said a word since he got captured, but just by sitting there his sheer physical presence emanated danger.
No officer or detective had gone in to interrogate him yet. Time was on their side. Cobb was at the safe house, Jackson was here and Fletcher was being guarded at the hospice, all protected and prepared. Porter had ordered that they wait, so they’d left the Panther in the cell for over an hour. The man in the interrogation room and his team had enjoyed the element of surprise when killing their seven victims so far. That wouldn't happen again.
With Cobb gone for the time being, Porter had assumed leadership of the squad. He was standing outside the cell in a dark viewing room, alongside the rest of First Team and Agent Jackson, who had come downstairs after they had first brought the captive in. Down the corridor, Deakins and Second Team were still guarding the building, both front and rear entrances, but each officer was still wearing his throat mic so they could all communicate at a moment's notice.
In the room adjacent to the holding cell, shielded behind a one-way mirror, Porter pulled his mobile phone from its home on his left collarbone and pushed Cobb's number as the other men examined the Panther through the glass. The phone rang once, and was answered.
‘Port?’ Cobb said.
'Evening sir,' Porter said, turning to one side. 'I have some news.'
'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.'