False Witness (John Steel series Book 3) Page 14

  He needed a distraction to cover the noise and pull the men away from the hostage, who was sitting, tied to a wooden stool not far from the staircase and near a large window.

  Steel remembered the cell phone he had taken off the spotter, and moved slowly back to the bathroom. John tapped McCall’s number into the phone, then crammed it in between the boards and the bathroom wall. He smiled wickedly to himself as he slid back to the hallway wall and waited.

  If this plan did not work he would have to think of something else and doing so meant using time that the snitch didn’t have. Steel found the peephole once again and waited for the phone to ring.

  One of the guards went to the bathroom—too much coffee had clearly had taken its toll, but this opportunity was exactly what Steel needed. The man walked in and yelled abuse at the last one who had used it. He unzipped his trousers and rested one hand on the wall as if to balance himself as he looked up and closed his eyes. There was a feeling of relief on his face as he urinated.

  A noise, like distant music, tickled his ears. He stopped pissing and stepped back, grabbing his UMP machine pistol and holding it ready to fire. A red dot from its laser sight trailed along the wall.

  “Boss, get over here!” yelled the guard. Another, larger, man, wearing a shirt with cut-off sleeves, walked over to the mercenary in the bathroom doorway.

  “What’s the matter?” he jeered. “You want me to wipe your ass for you?”

  The others laughed as the boss approached.

  “No, sir, get in here quick,” hissed the guard, this time more softly than previously.

  “Okay, dipshit, what is it?” The boss stood just inside the doorway, next to the alert guard.

  “Listen!” The guard held his hand up as if to shut everyone up. The boss man was just about to scold him for wasting his time when the music began again.

  The two men looked at each other and then stepped back, weapons held ready.

  “There is someone in the wall!” shouted one of them. “The cop is in the friggin walls!”

  They opened fire and walked in, flashes from the weapons’ barrels were almost blinding in such close proximity.

  Others joined in the rapid fire, almost hungry for blood. As the walls exploded with the onslaught of bullets, the men were oblivious that behind them in the hallway the wall was being broken through, and a man dressed all in black was closing in on them.

  One mercenary, who was standing in the doorway but unable to fire, stood and watched with an almost excited look upon his face. Steel grabbed him from behind and held him close as he grabbed the weapon that was slung at the man’s shoulder. He then opened fire on the others.

  The men screamed in agony as their kneecaps ruptured with .45 calibre rounds from the UMP machine pistol. Steel slammed the head of the man he’d captured against the doorframe several times, knocking him out cold.

  Steel knew he would not have much time before the others would be rushing up the stairs. He checked the men’s vests for ammunition and ran out into the hallway, just as the first couple of mercenaries reached the top of the stairs.

  John Steel jumped up and opened fire at the men. Two of them were hit full in the chest and legs, while the two behind dived for cover by rolling down the stairs. Blind gunfire from the stairwell cut up the walls and doorways of the floor, flash-bang grenades tossed equally blindly, in the hope of catching out the intruder. However, Steel had made it across to the hostage, who was tied to a wooden kitchen chair with a bag over his head, near a large window.

  The Englishman approached cautiously and took the bag off the guy’s head. He looked up at Steel, confused about what was happening.

  “Are you part of the rescue team?” As he asked the question, the bound man’s face seemed to light up, his eyes mirroring the flashes of light from the flash-bangs.

  “I am a police officer,” John Steel told him, “and I am here to get you out.”

  The man’s face fell as though he knew something. “They said you would come. Please get me out. I have a family.”

  Steel walked backwards towards the staircase and opened up on the four men who had reached the top of the stairs. They had thought they had cornered the perpetrator, but now they were paying for their mistake with their ruptured kneecaps.

  The rescuer went to the rear of the man ready to untie him, but Steel froze as he saw the reflection of a red flashing light on the floor.

  He knelt down and saw the detonator strapped to the bottom of the wicker padding of the chair. Then he stood up just as two men rushed to the top of the stairs and looked at the bodies in the bathroom. Steel called over to the men, making them look round, before they too lost their kneecaps.

  The man in the chair ducked his head from the noise and the falling red-hot brass casings of the bullets.

  “Hey, man, can you shoot that somewhere else?” the prisoner complained, while Steel just smiled and changed the gun’s magazine.

  “I can let them shoot you if you like?”

  The man thought for a moment then shook his head as though it didn’t really matter. “No, no, I am good.”

  John Steel rushed over and unburdened the injured men of their ammunition, just as more bullets from the floor below cut at the walls.

  “So what’s your name?” Steel asked, tucking away the full magazines he had just grabbed.

  “Garry Sanchez, sir.”

  Steel looked at the man who was in his mid-fifties. Black hair and a beard hid most of his Hispanic facial features.

  “So, Garry Sanchez, tell me why are you in an abandoned building with a bomb strapped to your arse?”

  Garry shrugged and looked puzzled. “You know, I have been asking myself the same question. I was meant to meet a cop here, they had information on my missing daughter.”

  Steel checked the broken, glass-less window to see what was below them. They were too high up to try for a pavement landing and too far away for a jump to another building. Steel felt joy as he saw the half-full dumpster below them. It was a chance, a slim one, but nevertheless, a chance.

  “I take it she went missing? Or did she run off?” the rescuer asked.

  Garry nodded. “We had a fight a couple of days back about her no-good boyfriend. Anyway we both said stuff and she took off. Since then I’ve been looking for her, but so far no luck. That’s why I went to the cops and filed a report.”

  “So if you’re not the cop,” Garry continued, “what are you doing here?”

  Steel ran over to a flash-bang that had just landed and kicked it back down the stairs before it exploded. He smiled callously as he heard the screams from below. “Oh you know, there was nothing on TV so I thought I would rescue some guy with a bomb on his butt. Just another usual boring night really,” Steel joked, hoping to calm the man down. “So, Garry, you’re not an informant?” Steel asked, watching the staircase.

  Garry shook his head. A confused look crossed his face as more gunfire and explosions rocked the floor. Steel looked angry as he knew he had been played.

  “Funny, so they got it wrong!” said the hostage.

  Steel looked over at the man, as a sickening feeling came over him. “What did they get wrong?”

  The man nodded at Steel who was replacing the gun’s magazine. “They were expecting a female cop.”

  Steel turned and cut down two more men as they risked rushing up. They fell to the ground, grasping their shattered knees. John heard the screech of tyres and knew more of the enemy were on the way and they were nearly out of time and ammo. Steel knew there was no other option: they would have to use the dumpster to get away.

  “Okay, Garry, here is the plan,” John shouted. “We are going to jump out of the window.”

  Garry looked up at the strange cop who was dressed all in black. He could see his own terrified expression reflected in the cop’s sunglasses.

  “Are you friggin’ nuts?” Garry yelled. “That’s at least a fifteen foot drop!”

  Steel grabbed the back of th
e chair and pulled him towards the large floor-to-ceiling window.

  The man wriggled frantically as he felt himself dragged towards the window.

  “Now, Garry, stop moving!” Steel told him. “That’s only a detonator strapped to you, it’s not the explosive itself, so as long as you keep still it won’t go off—in theory.” Steel mumbled the last part.

  Garry froze in the chair. He didn’t know which was worse: being held by armed men and strapped to a bomb, or being rescued by a lunatic.

  Suddenly Steel felt his cell vibrate in his pocket, he took it out and looked at the caller ID: it was McCall.

  “Steel, where are you?” she asked. “I just got a tip–off from an informant. He is waiting at an abandoned building, I’ll send you the address.”

  Steel’s face stiffened as he realised it had been a set-up for both of them. “McCall, how far away are you?”

  McCall looked at her phone, confused at the question before she had that feeling she always had when she knew something was wrong. “Steel? You’re there, aren’t you?”

  There was a brief silence before he answered. “Yes, you need to stay away, don’t come for us.”

  McCall heard the line close then as she looked down the street. There was a blinding flash as a fireball engulfed a building around twenty feet away from her.

  The Mustang she’d been driving skidded to a halt. Her eyes widened as she looked at the inferno. Her mouth fell open at the sight of the burning building.

  “Oh my God!” she yelled. “Steel!”

  *

  Steel closed down the cell phone and stood in front of Garry, who was shaking with fear.

  “Now, Garry, I am going to count to three, then we are going out of the window,” the Englishman told him, “But first I’ve got to check to see—” Steel looked at the staircase and Garry’s eyes followed him.

  Steel ran full pelt at Garry and crashed into him in the chair, sending them both hurtling out of the window and towards the dumpster. Above them was a series of loud explosions, then came the fireball.

  As they hit the interior of the huge dumpster, the heavy metal lid came crashing down on top, closing them inside. They felt the heat as the flames engulfed the dumpster. Garry cried out in panic, thinking that this was the end.

  The noise of loud hammering filled the dumpster’s interior, as masonry fell upon the lid, preventing their escape.

  *

  McCall looked over at the building. The flames rose up high, painting the surrounding streets with an orange glow. As she stood there feeling hopeless she felt her cell vibrate in her jacket pocket. A smile of joy came over her face and a small tear trickled down her cheek as she saw that the call was from Steel.

  “Steel, I am not going to ask how the hell you got out of there but I sure am glad you did.” McCall looked at her phone as she could hear an argument, as she heard the voice of a Hispanic man swearing at Steel in Spanish.

  “Oh will you shut up for a second!” John Steel told him. “God, some people! You throw them out of a building and they are so ungrateful.” Steel’s words in Sam’s ear sounded almost as if they were for himself more than anyone else.

  “Ah yes, Sam,” he went on, “uhm, my new friend and I seem to be in a bit of a pickle, you couldn’t drive round and get us out of a bit of a jam, could you? We are slightly buried under something—possibly half the building.”

  McCall looked puzzled for a second and got back in her car and restarted the engine. As she drove up to the building, she spoke to Steel on the phone.

  “Where are you?” she asked. “I can’t see you anywhere. All I can see is a ... Oh boy, you’re in the dumpster aren’t you?”

  His awkward silence meant, “Yes.”

  “Steel, that thing is covered in half the building, and it’s on fire!” she yelled as she pulled up the car at a safe distance.

  “Really, I had not noticed. Is there anything there you can use just to get the building off of the roof of this thing?”

  McCall looked round and just saw empty streets. Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel and she put her foot on to the accelerator. Then she slammed the gear into drive, and the transmission screamed in protest as the wheels spun until they were smoking, and the Mustang launched forwards towards the dumpster.

  At the last minute McCall opened the door and rolled out, just in time to see her beloved car smash into the dumpster and push it out of the way. The burning brickwork fell from the dumpster’s roof and onto the bonnet of her car.

  There was the sound of metal being kicked and a loud scraping noise as the lid of the dumpster was thrown backwards. McCall saw two figures appear from the flames. It was John Steel and another man, who appeared to be tied to a broken chair.

  “McCall, are you okay?” he asked as she looked up at him from her position on the ground. A small trickle of blood ran down her forehead.

  She looked at him with some confusion. “Am I okay? You were just blown out of a burning building and you’re asking if I’m okay?”

  Steel reached out and helped McCall to her feet and looked around, wondering why she had been on the ground in the first place. Then he saw the rear end of her Mustang just before an eruption of flames covered it from view.

  “Oh, Sam, your car!” Steel said sadly. “You used your car!”

  They stood for a while, all three of them, as they watched the burning hell. In the distance, sirens from the fire department vehicles filled the empty street. They stood there watching in silence, almost as they were mourning the loss of an old friend.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  It didn’t take long before the fire department and the police had blocked off the area. Bright orange flames licked at the blackened sky and thick black smoke bellowed upwards, filling the air.

  The heat from the inferno could be felt from nearly a hundred feet away and fire-fighters surrounded the building and launched a torrent of spray, hoping to control the blaze, while others hosed the closest buildings in the hope of preventing the spread of the flames.

  Steel stood behind the ambulance where Garry was been checked out after his ordeal.

  “Oh thanks, Officer. Or should I say Detective?” Garry said to him. He had just realised that he had no idea who his saviour worked for, or even what his job was.

  Steel smiled and took a long drink from the bottled water.

  “You’re not going to tell me who you work for, are you?” Garry said to him.

  Steel looked up and let the heat of the inferno warm his skin, before he smiled at the other man. “Nope.” He patted Garry on the shoulder. “But I promise I’ll tell you who I am when I find your little girl.”

  A flood of tears ran down Garry’s face as he finally had some hope that his daughter might be rescued. He knew that if anyone could find her, it would be this ‘angel in black’.

  Steel saw McCall talking to Tooms and Tony, who had just arrived on the scene. He headed over to them.

  “So what the hell happened?” asked the booming voice of Captain Brant as he walked up behind the group.

  “I had a tip there was an informant waiting in the building,” John Steel explained. “Instead of that I found a shitload of mercenaries and some poor bastard with a detonator strapped to his arse.”

  McCall looked at Steel with a horrified realization. “I got the same tip,” she commented. “I should have been in there as well!”

  Steel nodded to confirm her fears. “We were both meant to be in there. Anyway what kept you?”

  McCall blushed and said nothing in reply.

  “So,” Sam continued, having ignored Steel’s question, “the medics are nearly done and we will take Mr Sanchez back to the precinct until it’s safe.”

  Brant nodded.

  “Oh and I will need a car,” Sam McCall went on. “I can’t really catch bad guys without one, sir.”

  Brant looked puzzled, as he looked around for her Mustang. “Where’s your car, McCall?”

  Sam and John Steel us
ed their thumbs to point behind them at the burning building.

  “She used it to—uhm, to get me out,” the Englishman explained.

  Brant raised his eyebrows in surprise, almost not wanting to ask where Steel was that required such an orthodox method of rescue. “So where the hell were you, Steel? Never mind. I don’t think I want to know. McCall, I’ll put the paperwork in but I can’t promise anything. Besides, this was the guy who trashed your car, get him to buy you a new one.” Brant was joking, however McCall was staring at Steel with folded arms and a look that could kill.

  “Thank you,” Steel said sincerely, but McCall didn’t need to ask why. However she just wanted to hear him say it.

  “What for?” she asked.

  He could see her trying to hide a smug grin and he smiled at her childishness.

  “For saving my ass.”

  She shrugged as if to say it was nothing. “Oh it’s fine, in fact I am getting used to saving your ass by now.”

  As they headed for the subway station the sound of the pair’s friendly argument about ‘who had saved who’ the most times disappeared into the noise of traffic.

  *

  Steel had gone back to his Parkview apartment to shower and change, for the mixture of garbage and smoke on his clothes was beginning to make him nauseous. The apartment was a loft with a balcony and a view that came at a high cost, but was worth every penny.

  Inside it was a mixture of old and new. Most of the furniture was antique: sideboards and cabinets from the 1800s, and pictures that would be more in place in an English stately home than a New York apartment. However, these were a few of the items he had brought from his family’s estate in Britain, to remind him of home.