Deadly States (Seaforth Files by Nicholas P Clark Book 2) (31 page)

was approaching if he didn’t remain very still. As he waited he had an
unsettling feeling that something wasn’t
quite right. He had forgotten
something,
or something was
out
of
place. He couldn’t
quite put
his
finger on what was wrong. It would have to wait. A guard walked into
the scene. The man
didn’t look as if he was searching for anything in
particular—just another everyday military man trying the best that he
could to put in the hours in this most boring
of assignments. He carried himself like a Brit and not like one of the poorly
paid locals who
would be more likely to avoid investigating any strange sounds that
he might have heard. The guard came to a stop next to the hole. He
looked down. Jack held his breath. The man paused for a moment. He
kicked at the ground. Jack began to breathe once again when the man
continued on his way. Then disaster struck. The man came to a stop
once more. He bent down and picked up Jack’s gun.

Fuck
, thought Jack. That was what he had been missing—that odd
feeling that
something was
not
quite right. His
gun
had come free
from the waistband of his trousers as he tumbled onto the ground. He
cursed himself for not having checked to make sure his weapon was in
place when he emerged from the hole.
At the very least it would have
made sense for him to ensure that the weapon was free from soil
or
other debris. The guard carefully
examined Jack’s gun for a few
moments. If he was worth anything as a security
officer then the guard
would identify the weapon as
being in
common use amongst
British services. Perhaps he would assume that
one
of his
own men had
dropped it? Such things were not
uncommon in the boozy
environment
of an Embassy. For a brief moment Jack considered rushing the
man, but as the guard was standing on a slight incline he would have
the tactical advantage over Jack. The guard slowly turned around. The
problem with the good hiding place Jack had selected was that it was
the only good hiding place in that small part of the complex. The guard
raised his weapon. He was looking right at where Jack was crouching.
Jack could not be certain if the guard had eyes
on him or if the man

was using his instincts and logic to target him so precisely. Rushing
the guard head on stood even less of a chance for success than rushing
him up a hill from behind. Trying to escape further into the woods
would end in a short burst of automatic gunfire when the guard called
for back-up. It was no use. No matter what scenario Jack envisaged,

each and every
one of them ended in exactly the same way—Jack lying dead on the ground with blood oozing from many
bullet holes. It
was over. The best that he could hope for was to be taken into custody
rather than being blasted into eternity as he tried to give himself up.

The guard reached down to the belt of his trousers and he unclipped
a walkie-talkie. He raised the radio to his head and squeezed the button
to speak.

“Everything is clear
on the East side,” said the guard. “I will
do
one last sweep and then I’m coming in. Get the bloody
kettle on. I’m
dying for a cuppa. See you in five.”

Understood
, replied a voice over the radio.
Jack was confused. Was the guard using a code?
Was he quietly
calling in reinforcements in a way that would not spook Jack? The
guard put his gun away and then he threw Jack’s gun into the bushes.
The weapon landed a few feet from him. Jack moved quickly to secure
the weapon.
“You can come out Jack,” said the guard, as he raised his hands. “If I
had wanted to kill you then you would already be dead. Though to be
fair,
had you wanted to kill
me then I
don’t suppose I would have
made it past those bushes the first time. I don’t know what in the hell is
going
on. But
one thing that I can be sure of, when a
kill
order has
been issued
on Jack Malaney then something isn’t right. For the love
of Christ, prove me right.”
Jack waited for a
moment
before getting to his feet and walking
out from the bushes. He held the gun at his side. He wanted to believe
that the guard was somehow on his side, but he simply couldn’t bet his
life on it. Not yet at any rate.
“Who has placed a kill order on me?” Jack asked.
“I
don’t know him. He flew in from London a few
days ago. The
Ambassador was not
one bit
pleased to see him. It
didn’t take us too
long to work out why. Whoever this guy is he is packing some serious
juice. He was
ordering
our Lord and Master in there around like an
errand
boy. He intercepted the message that you sent
earlier tonight.
He said that you had gone rogue and that you would be coming here
to kill the
Ambassador. He said that you wanted the team to leave so
that there would be less resistance when you finally showed up.”

“I said
yes sir
. You know how it is Jack? Men like us are paid to
think from the neck down. But this was clearly bullshit.”
“And how many others think this is bullshit?”
“I really couldn’t say. In times like these it is best not to ask those
kinds
of
questions. Whoever this guy is he is clearly someone who is
not going to take any shit from the likes of me. And by the looks of it,
he
is not going to take any shit from you either.”
“I would really like to meet this individual. It would appear that he
and I have a lot of things to discuss.”
“I
bet you
do. Well you can find him in the
Ambassador’s suite.
He really
did
make himself at
home. He hardly
ever
comes
out
of
there and when he does it is only to bark orders. He has been having
meetings with all kinds
of strange folks. You know? Ruskies, and CIA
agents, as well as the usual suspects from the government here. The
whole thing has been giving
me an uneasy feeling all week, and the
kill order on you just confirmed my worst suspicions. I will show you
to the suite.”
The guard turned to leave.
“No wait,” Jack said.
“I
know where it is. It is
better that I
go
alone. If they
capture me
or
kill
me then you will have to get word
back to London. I have no idea who you can trust back home but we
can’t let this guy continue with whatever it is he is doing.”
Jack walked towards the guard.
“And how am I supposed to explain to them how I let you slip past
me?”
“I will provide you with a great excuse.”
“Huh? I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“I’m afraid not. I want you to walk as fast as you can in that direction and then start shouting at the top of your voice,” Jack explained.
The man turned around to face where Jack was indicating and as
he did Jack lashed out and struck him on the back of the head with his
gun. The man fell to the ground with a thud.
“I truly am sorry, but they would not believe anything less,” Jack
said.