Silent Night

FORTY NINE

Five minutes later the plane was in the air and climbing. Behind the tank, Archer watched Rourke and Drexler in the cockpit. He glanced to his left. Beside him, Maddy looked scared whilst Dr Kruger was looking at him for silent guidance. Archer gave them both a thumbs up. He felt his stomach tilt again as they gained altitude.

He would have to put a gun on the pair. Take their weapons and force them to land the plane. It wasn’t the best plan but he couldn’t think of a better alternative. He took a deep breath and reassured himself. The radio was working. They had plenty of fuel and Rourke’s Roller PD file had said that he owned a farm. He knew what he was doing in one of these things, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to get in the air in the first place. He’d know how to land it, assuming that he didn’t want to kill them all.

Peering around the tank, Archer saw that both of them had their head-gear on, completely distracted and unaware of their uninvited guests. He stepped out from being the tank, his Sig held tightly in his hands. Beside him, he looked at the six canisters, a pesticide hazard sign slapped on the side.

Quietly, he crept towards the cabin, his pistol trained on the back of Rourke’s head.

He had to give it to them. They were smarter than then they looked. Using Sway’s brother as an alibi when Jacobs was killed. Sending a decoy to the estate so the ATF and the NYPD would be tailing the wrong van. Flying over the State borders. This was never about terrorism. This was about money. The whole time they’d been here, they’d separated themselves from their Chapter and done their own thing. The Chapter’s presence was just a diversion. Keep attention off what they were doing. And law enforcement had taken the bait. It was only by luck and intuition that Archer was here.

With the sights of his pistol on Rourke, Archer heard Agent-in-Charge Faison’s words echo in his mind.

The most intelligent criminals put distance between themselves and the crime.

Even if they get caught, it’ll never get traced back to them.

And suddenly, Archer paused.

Something from earlier had been bothering him all night, It had never settled with him all day. It hadn’t rung true when he’d first heard it and it still didn’t now.

Dr Tibbs.

When everyone had him fingered as the missing link, Archer hadn’t been convinced. Neither had Maddy and he trusted her instincts.

He was such a quiet, gentle guy, she’d said. I can’t believe he’d do this.

Then Jacobs’ phone had rung and everyone had forgotten what she’d said. But she was right. Mixing with neo-Nazis seemed totally out of character for a quiet scientist who was a loner.

The most intelligent criminals put distance between themselves and the crime.

Even if they get caught, it’ll never get traced back to them.

Archer froze.

Comprehension dawned.

And he realised a second too late that he’d been played.



He went to turn, but felt the cold barrel of a pistol press up hard against his neck.

‘Drop the gun,’ Kruger said, his finger on the trigger.

Archer glanced to his left. He saw a Beretta 92. Behind it, Kruger’s cut-up, bruised face had hardened.

He wasn’t looking for guidance anymore.

‘Drop the gun,’ he repeated.

Behind him, Archer saw that Maddy was unconscious, bleeding from a cut to her head. Kruger had levelled her the moment Archer turned his back.

‘Drop the gun,’ he said again. ‘Or I blow your brains out.’

Archer felt the cold metal pressed in behind his ear. He didn’t have a choice. He dropped the Sig and it clattered to the cabin floor of the plane.

Kruger whistled and Rourke and Drexler turned.

Archer saw astonishment on their faces. Rourke said something to Drexler, then undid his belt and moved down into the belly of the plane as she took over the controls. Archer stayed motionless, the barrel of the pistol driven into the side of his neck.

‘Holy shit,’ Rourke said to Kruger, genuinely surprised. ‘How long have you been there?’

'We got in when you dumped the van.'

‘I sent Wicks to come and get you, but he said you had two pigs outside your apartment. I thought you were staying in New York?’

‘This doos was sniffing around,’ he said, the gun into Archer’s neck. ‘Thought I'd hitch a ride.'

Rourke looked at Archer. ‘Is he a pig?’

‘Yeah.’

‘So kill him.’

Kruger shook his head. ‘Not here. The bullets will put holes in the cabin.’

Rourke tilted his head and saw Maddy lying unconscious on the floor. ‘OK. Wait till we’re over countryside. Then throw them both out.’

Kruger suddenly pistol-whipped Archer hard, knocking him to the floor of the plane. Rourke grabbed a set of handcuffs from Archer’s hip and cuffed his hands behind him to a metal hand-hold. He also took the time to hit Archer in the face several times afterwards, his fists smashing into his already busted nose. That done, Rourke gave him a final kick, then turned to Kruger.

‘We’re on course. I set up the first pit stop in North Carolina.’

Kruger nodded, then took a seat across the cabin from Archer. Rourke kicked Archer again, then headed back to the cockpit. Archer spat blood out of his mouth and looked across at the South African doctor.

The expression he’d worn all day on his beaten-up face had changed.

All trace of his friendliness was gone.

It had been replaced with a menacing stare.

‘You son of a bitch,’ Archer said.

‘It’s a miracle we even made it here,’ Kruger said. ‘I’ve been watching all of you run around like morons all night.’

‘You’re a part of this?’

‘Of course. I set it up. Do you know how much this virus is worth?’

He jabbed a finger at Rourke, up front in the cockpit with Drexler.

‘I needed someone to package and transport it. Figured I might as well hitch a ride. Luckily you made the connection with the farm after I fed you the pesticide idea. You were quick, I’ll give you that.’

Archer glanced at Rourke. ‘How the hell do you know him?’

Kruger grinned.

He undid the buttons on his shirt and pulled it open.



Archer saw a thick black Swastika tattooed on one pectoral.

On the other was an SS.

Stuttgart Soldiers.

‘Surprised?’ Kruger said with a grin.

Kyle Gunnar’s voice echoed in Archer’s mind, a missed warning from earlier in the day.

You’d be surprised who some of our members are.

Suddenly, all the missing pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place.

‘You were the one who told Bleeker about the virus?’

Kruger nodded.

‘He introduced me to them,’ he said, jabbing a thumb at the cockpit. ‘At a rally two weeks ago. We had a plan, but then Bleeker got greedy and double-crossed us. Kidnapped me and stole the vials. He wanted it all for himself. I think he was going to kill me at the house just before you and your friends showed up.’

Archer thought back. It all started making sense. In the dark plane, he saw the South African grin.

‘You piece of shit. You planted the cell phone at Tibbs’ apartment.’

‘Very good. Pay-as-you-go, so no connection to me. All I had to do was clean off my prints, visit Will on Thursday night then drop it on his floor before I left. He must have found it, stowed it in the drawer and framed himself.’

Kruger pointed his pistol at Maddy.

‘Anyway, be thankful you got an extra few hours. You both should have died at the lab.’

Archer didn’t respond. He was thinking back through the day, cursing himself at what an idiot he’d been.

‘When Gunnar walked past at the Bureau this afternoon, you ducked down. Put your head in your hands like you were upset. But you were covering up. You knew he’d recognise you and wouldn’t be able to hide it.’

‘Very good. But what a shame. You’re too late. You’re going to die. And what a tragedy about your friend at the lab. His coffin will be the size of a tinder box.’

Archer spat blood from his mouth again, glaring at the neo-Nazi doctor.

‘Easy now,’ Kruger said. ‘At any moment, I can open that door and throw you out. I could do it right now.’

The two men stared at each other. Then Kruger checked his watch. Archer glanced to his left and saw Maddy still slumped on the floor. She was out cold. Blood had slid down her face from the wound from the blow to the back of her head.

Kruger suddenly whistled at the cockpit. Rourke heard him and turned. Kruger beckoned for him to come down, so Rourke left his seat and walked down into the cabin.

‘How are we doing?’

‘We’re on course.’ Rourke glanced at Archer. ‘You want to get rid of him now?’

Kruger didn’t reply.

He raised his pistol instead, aiming at the centre of Rourke’s torso, and started firing.



Rourke took six rounds. Each impact jerked him back and he collapsed in a torn, bloody dead heap across the cabin. The bullets ruptured holes in the cabin and air started to whistle in. Archer saw Drexler turn, looking at Rourke’s corpse, her eyes wide with shock. But before she could react, Kruger was up on his feet, the pistol trained on her.

‘Don’t move, bitch,’ he said, moving down towards her in the cockpit. ‘I’ll take that weapon.’

Archer saw Drexler stay motionless behind the control stick. Then she reached inside her jacket and passed over what looked like a silenced Glock. Kruger took it, and tossed it into the cabin behind him, the pistol landing near Rourke’s corpse.

He started ordering Drexler to do something, the gun to her head, but Archer couldn’t hear what it was from the whistling coming through the bullet holes in the plane.

Archer saw her nodding and he felt the plane start veering to the left.

Rourke was slumped across the cabin, torn apart by the gunfire. Archer looked up at Kruger, who was walking back into the cabin, grinning at him.

‘Just like that, huh? Kill him and take his ride to Texas?’

Kruger smiled, a strange look in his eyes.

‘We’re not going to Texas.’