False Witness (John Steel series Book 3) Page 13

  “Okay so I will go get the files and be right back.” McCall turned and almost skipped to the elevator as someone was just getting out.

  “Hey, bro, how come you didn’t go?” Tooms asked the British detective.

  Steel put down the file and turned towards him. “Because it’s probably a long walk from his house.”

  Tooms looked puzzled. “I thought—”

  John Steel shook his head as if he knew what Tooms was about to say. “If you had seen the two of them together you would understand. She will be going to his house, I will put money on it.” And so saying, he slapped down a twenty-dollar note.

  “I will take that bet,” Tooms said, tossing a twenty-dollar bill on top of Steel’s.

  *

  McCall arrived at the house of Daniel Cruise—the Herald’s editor. She had phoned his office first but they had told her that he was at his home and insisted that she should meet him there. McCall had found it strange but then again she was curious to see how a man like that lived.

  It was a large house with ‘mock Tudor’ design features, and its large front drive had electronic gates that had CCTV coverage, so that the wealthy homeowner could keep track of visitors.

  McCall drove slowly up the driveway, taking in the view as she went. Sam smiled to herself, as she always imagined Steel having a place like this and not the Park View penthouse he actually had—that she still had not seen.

  She parked and got out, her gaze not leaving the awe-inspiring house. Of course the bright full moon in the cloudless sky helped to add a little something to the scene.

  “Glad you could make it,” Cruise said as he opened the door.

  The detective just stood there with a half shocked and half ‘somewhere else’ look on her face as Cruise stood at the entrance.

  “Your house is... wow!” Samantha felt angry with herself for her barely concealed admiration for the wonderful building, something she felt was unprofessional. When she saw glimpses of the house beyond the hallway, her jaw dropped even further.

  “Can I get you something to drink, Samantha?” Daniel Cruise asked. “Sorry for the familiarity, I mean Detective McCall.”

  McCall gave him a quick embarrassed smile as she followed him into the sitting room. “No thanks, I am only here to collect the disc you promised me.”

  The sitting room he led her into was large, with antiques in glass cabinets which were themselves Elizabethan. However, her eyes were drawn to the small dining table between the veranda doors and the huge stone fireplace, and a table that was made up with two places set for dinner.

  “I am sorry, I can see you’re expecting someone,” Sam apologised. “I’ll just take the disc and be on my way.”

  Cruise smiled and passed her a glass of champagne. “Yes I was expecting someone. And now she is here.”

  McCall returned his smile and took the glass. Her eyes sparkled with the light from the many candles that broke up the darkness. “You are very sure of yourself, Daniel. Sorry, I hope I can call you that, seeing as we’re on first names terms now.”

  He stared into her deep blue eyes, which were full of emotion. McCall blinked and looked away towards the fireplace.

  “So, no butler?” she asked.

  Cruise shook his head at her stubbornness. “No, it’s Simon’s night off.”

  Sam turned and gave him a strange look. “Your butler is called Simon? I thought he might be called Albert or Alfred,” she joked, taking a small sip from the champagne. She walked around the room, looking at photographs of past and present relatives. When she next spoke it was casually, almost as if she was making up polite conversation: “So, Daniel, you getting me here, the champagne, the ‘alone’ time. This wasn’t meant to be a date, was it?” She picked up a picture of what appeared to be Cruise when he was around ten years old, with his parents.

  McCall put the picture down and closed her eyes as she felt him draw closer.

  “Wasn’t meant to be a date? Mmm. Well that depends on you, Samantha. Do you want it to be a date?”

  She turned and she kissed him hard on the mouth, all of her passion and longing vented in that small moment. Then she pulled away suddenly, realising what she had just done.

  “Sorry, that was—” she began.

  Daniel took her into his powerful arms and held her tight. They moved back onto the large couch and fell upon it, their bodies hungry for one another.

  McCall gasped as he started to unbutton her top and kiss the bare flesh as it was revealed. Her fingers were grasping at his hair as he moved further down her body, undressing her as he went. Her body shuddered as he tasted her skin, his lips exploring her body as well as his hands.

  Slowly he moved up and she wrapped herself around him as they became one. Their hot sweaty lust-driven bodies writhed and enjoyed each other until finally, in groans of utter bliss, they collapsed, holding each other tight. Their bodies glistened in the light of the flames of the fire in the huge fireplace.

  “Where did that come from, Detective?” he joked. “There was I thinking that you only wanted the disc.”

  McCall slapped him playfully, before climbing on top of his body. “I just thought, won’t dinner be spoilt?”

  Cruise shook his head and smiled. “No, I didn’t order it yet.”

  She looked confused for a second, then a playful smile came over her face as she felt his body stir once more. “Good, we can order breakfast instead.” She leaned forwards and kissed him as she moved down, feeling his body once again.

  The evening was one of hours of animal passion, and finally they both lay there on the floor on top of a large snuggle-blanket he normally used for wintery nights.

  McCall looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece—it was now a quarter to three in the morning.

  “Damn it, I have to go,” Daniel said, looking up at her as he pulled the blanket over himself. “So was it... okay? To your liking?” he joked.

  McCall shot him a quick scowl. “I have to be at work in three hours. You remember? I have to get on with the little task of catching your man’s killer.”

  Cruise leaned back and rested on his large arms, that were crossed behind his head.

  McCall finished dressing and blew him a kiss, then headed quickly for the door. She stopped halfway and rushed back. “By the way, you don’t have that disc, do you?” she asked, with an awkward smile.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  As Steel closed his eyes he fell into a deep unsettling sleep. He could almost hear the screams and the gunfire. Men had come to his home—for what reason he still did not know, even after all these years. They had come and they had killed as many as they could at the garden party. That warm summer’s day of his homecoming. So many family and friends gone in the blink of an eye.

  After the slaughter, he hunted them down in the grounds and in the house, until he reached the attic where he thought he might find his beloved wife hiding.

  He remembered her cold limp body resting in his arms, her eyes closed as though she was asleep. Steel’s body tensed up as the next memory bit hard.

  As he stroked her hair her eyes opened—she was alive! The sound of the hand cannon rang throughout the attic space, and the pain at first didn’t reach him, only the sight of the bullet passing though her head.

  It turned out that as Steel had been shot, the rounds had passed through them both. Six shots echoed in his ears but he felt nothing, only the pain of losing his wife.

  The darkness passed over his eyes and he remembered those voices, the voices of the men who had killed his friends and family.

  Steel sat up with a start, and the plastic glass he’d been holding bounced gently on the floor. John got up from the chair beside the window that he so often fell asleep on—getting sleep was something he still found hard. He smiled as he picked up the glass, thinking of an idea he had had a while back. He was making a habit of breaking crystal glasses, and it was becoming expensive.

  He looked out of the large panoramic window of his pentho
use suite, and his gaze took in the splendour of New York City at night.

  He headed for the door, taking his three-quarter length leather jacket with him. He needed fresh air and something to take his mind off the dreams.

  *

  Steel had just left the lobby of his home when his cell phone rang. It was one of his many ‘eyes’ in the city. He had a tip that a snitch was held up in an old building in the Bronx, and this snitch apparently had information on his private case. John put the phone away and hailed a cab.

  The night sky was black and almost starless in the clear heavens above. Even the wind had died down, leaving that air still, however a chill remained.

  A yellow cab pulled up and he got into the back and told the driver the address. Every nerve in his body told him that this was undoubtedly a trap, but he had to make sure. Besides, he reckoned that he needed the exercise.

  The driver had parked about a block short of the destination at Steel’s request: if it was a trap he wanted to know the lie of the land so that he could figure out what might be in store for him. Steel looked round at the surrounding streets, then felt relieved as a plan came into play in his mind.

  Going round the back of one of the buildings, he began to climb up it. He needed a rooftop view and this looked just about perfect. Reaching the top he knew he would have to stick to the shadows, for if someone was watching he didn’t want to spoil the party.

  He moved quickly and quietly towards the edge of the building’s roof. Suddenly he stopped, as he could see sandbags and equipment bags, as well as a sniper’s mat on the ground. Clearly this was a snipers’ ‘nest’.

  Taking out a small monocular from his pocket, Steel surveyed the land below. Was he early? The other rooftops were clean, however Steel figured that the others had not yet arrived. Then he moved his gaze to the building, which itself was large—around six storeys high, a disused tenement building. Two of its sides were covered by other flat-roofed buildings.

  It looked as if the place had been abandoned for years, judging by the amount of foliage growing round it. Steel could not see any signs of life.

  Mm, nobody home, he thought. At first he mused on the possibility that his contact had been leading him on.

  Until he heard the voices.

  He looked down and saw three men, all in black, running in different directions. One went to the next building, the second man went to the alleyway alongside the structure where Steel was positioned, and the last man?

  He was on his way up to the sniper’s nest.

  The roof door opened and the man who was dressed in black tactical gear, came out onto the roof and walked forwards, ensuring he was crouched low and did not ‘silhouette’ against the night sky. Once at his killing position he swung the long bag from his back and took out the special silenced sniper’s rifle.

  The killer unfolded the front bi-pod and laid down the weapon. Adjusting his position, he made himself ready for the job in hand.

  Steel appeared from behind a ventilation stack and headed towards his target, all the while keeping silent and to the shadows. He was fast but scarily quiet as he moved like the shadows of the night.

  The sniper didn’t hear anything, just felt the hands on his head before it was twisted, making a loud crunch as his neck was broken.

  John Steel looked over at the second man, as he grabbed the communications set from the sniper and disappeared back into the shadows.

  The Englishman put in the earpiece so that he could keep track of every move of his enemies.

  First of all he needed to take out that other sniper and then the guy in the alley before he could even think of going inside. John made his way to the back end of the building where there would be less noise. The jump he had to make was at least seven to eight feet, and there were loose chippings on the ground’s surface.

  He knew he had only one shot at this so he had to make it count.

  In his ear there were a quick succession of white-noise blasts, as if someone was pressing the ‘send’ button on his radio, but not talking. Steel nearly ripped the earpiece out because it was so distracting and loud.

  The ex-soldier smiled and walked back to give himself a good run-up. After a few quick exhalations to give himself confidence, he started to run. As he neared the edge of the roof he started to press his own ‘send’ button. He jumped, then landed with a roll into the shadows of the lower level.

  “Whoever is doing that, make sure you’re not sat on the damn thing, okay?” came an angry voice from his earpiece. Steel smiled as he headed towards the next gunman.

  “Don’t worry, that’s the least of your worries,” he whispered to himself.

  After taking care of the second gunman, Steel made his way down to the ground using the stairs—going down the old drainpipe was too risky and it was too high to jump from.

  The night air felt somewhat warmer down on the ground and definitely less breezy. As he approached the alley he could see the third man watching the building and the surrounding ones through binoculars. Steel moved up behind him slowly at first, pausing for a few seconds to see if the man was aware of his presence. Then, seizing his chance, Steel moved forwards towards his next target.

  “We are all clear in the alley. I’ll let you know if the target arrives. Out.”

  Those were the man’s last words, as Steel grabbed him and pinched his neck in exactly the right place, knowing that it would stop the blood flow and knock the man out cold. Picking up the body, Steel moved him to a darkened spot and, using the man’s own plastic cuffs, bound his hands together and then checked his clothing for useful items.

  John Steel walked over to the spotter’s position and picked up what at first appeared to be binoculars.

  “Oh, hello, beautiful,” he said to himself, admiring the military-grade thermal imaging binoculars. John took off his sunglasses and stuffed the end of one of their side arms between his lips. Placing the electronic device to his eyes he checked the windows of the buildings and saw the heat signatures of more than a dozen people inside: presumably the guards and the snitch. This was no longer a meeting—this was a rescue operation.

  *

  Sticking to the shadows, Steel made his way over to the building, after he had checked the other building’s rooftops for more ‘uninvited guests’. The bulk of the personnel were on the third and fourth floors. Unfortunately John could only speculate where the ‘snitch’ was, but he figured he was on the fourth floor.

  Steel had made out at least seven men on that floor and another seven on the floor below. He had seen the thermal glow from their body heat, but also knew that they would be heavily armed. He would have to get in unseen and take out as many of them as possible before getting the informant out.

  Most of the windows of the tenement building were boarded up apart from three—two of these were small bathroom windows that only a cat could get through, and the other was a bedroom window. This was covered by a piece of chipboard, however squatters or tramps had worked it free, so it was only held in place by one bolt, and happily it swung to the side easily, allowing him to climb through with ease.

  Inside reeked of a stale building that had been left to decay. Each room was bathed in darkness apart from the odd shard of light that broke through the gaps in the boarding. These gave enough light for him to make out whatever was inside the rooms. Steel moved slowly, so as not to create any noise, as he headed for the staircase.

  He saw the elevator had power but that was far too obvious and climbing up was a safer option: he had seen enough action films to realise the close calls you can have with a moving elevator.

  As he walked through the apartment he stopped outside the bathroom. There he could see one of the guards heading in, presumably to do a room check. The man was alone and armed only with a small machine pistol, but this posed a considerable danger.

  Just as the man moved inside, Steel rushed forwards and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. He thrust the man’s head towards the back wall,
hoping to knock him unconscious, and was surprised that instead of the expected sound of the crunch of bone against the tiled wall, the man’s head broke through the structure.

  The man stumbled backwards, dazed by the impact, but John finished him off quickly, using a straight leg kick, which sent him crashing back into the wall and through it.

  Steel pulled the unconscious man from the rubble of broken plasterboard and masonry, then noticed that the gap between the outside wall and the bathroom wall was large enough to accommodate someone; he just hoped that he would fit.

  Carefully, he tore away some layers of wall until the hole was big enough, then climbed inside and through into the rest of the building: this was his way up, for it was possible to climb up the walls from this cavity, using the timber beams for support.

  On the fourth floor men stood ready with the butt of their automatic rifles tucked into their shoulders, ready for whatever may come up the staircase. Each floor had a large landing and the stairwell that ran up the back wall had a long corridor that branched off the floor space with two apartments in each corridor. Decay had made some of the walls crumble away, and there were piles of rubble around, thus opening up the areas within the apartments, so that there was almost one big space. The flooring had hidden holes in it, ready for unexpected and unwary guests to tread in. In fact the whole building was effectively a massive trap. However, this was only nature’s doing and had nothing to do with the mercenaries inside.

  Steel made his way up to the fifth floor using the wooden beams as a climbing frame. Dust and cobwebs clung to his black outfit, almost turning him a sandy colour.

  He stopped and looked through a hole in the wall next to what was a washbasin in a bathroom. There stood one of the mercenaries taking a leak. He was whistling a merry tune as he performed his duties, then shook himself and buttoned up. John shook his head in disgust as the man just walked out without flushing the lavatory.

  John Steel now had the problem of getting out of the wall without making a noise and drawing attention to himself. He thought for a moment, then made his way over to see what was in the next room, hoping to find another peephole with which to observe what was happening. He noticed that most of the walls had either fallen down, or else someone had deliberately pushed down the dry-wall dividers. This meant that there was no chance of cover for him to hide behind. However, on the plus side, it allowed him to see everything they were doing and where everyone was.