Avenger (17 page)

Marcie Deveraux's Xda rang. She turned to look through the picture window at the Manhattan skyline as she answered the call. 'Yes, Mick?'

'We've got him this time. His name is Pointer, Charles Pointer, and he's in The Hamptons. We're on the way.'

'So you managed to trace him through Ramirez's mobile phone.'

'Yeah.'

'Good. What do we know about Pointer?'

'Millionaire. Computer genius. Sold up his business five years ago. It's all being e-mailed to you.'

Deveraux could hear the screaming engine of Fran and Mick's hire car. She stared out of the window as Mick quickly gave her more details of what had happened at the East 96
^th
Street penthouse.

'How long will it take you to get to Pointer?' she said when Mick had finished.

'The speed Fran's driving, ninety minutes max.'

'Good. Call me before you go sterile.'

Deveraux ended the call and turned round to bring Fergus up to speed. But Fergus wasn't there. She ran to the bathroom and threw open the door. No Fergus.

He was nowhere in the penthouse. He had gone. Deveraux rushed back into the sitting room and was relieved to see the sheet of paper the consulate technician had left for her on the table. He had written down the number of Fergus's new mobile phone.

Deveraux snatched the paper from the tabletop and grabbed her
Xda. She punched in the unfamiliar number.

Fergus was already outside the Four Seasons, being shown into a cab by a uniformed porter.

'Roosevelt Hotel first,' he said to the driver. 'And I need you to wait a couple of minutes and then take me on to the Hotel Pennsylvania. Quick as you can.'

His new mobile phone was ringing in his pocket. Deveraux's number. He killed the call. It rang again. Deveraux. He ignored it. He would have turned the phone off completely but he needed to keep it on in case Danny called.

As the taxi worked its way through the traffic, Fergus ran through possible options for when he got to the Pennsylvania.

His phone beeped. A text message from Deveraux.

GOT BS. CALL ME.

Fergus punched the shortcut for Deveraux's number.

'How dare you walk out on me!' she bawled. 'I ordered you to stay here!'

'I'm just doing what I came here to do,' said Fergus. 'I'll look after Elena while you deal with Black Star.'

'That's exactly what I have done! His name is Charles Pointer; he's holed up in The Hamptons. This will all be over in less than two hours.'

'So we pull Elena out now. I'll warn Danny I'm on my way and make the mix safe as soon as I get there.'

'No, Watts, you will not. Elena stays there, keeping Black
Star company until Fran and Mick take him down. If you pull her out now, you
will almost certainly be responsible for losing us Black Star and setting
him free to kill again. Do
not
pull her out!'

Charles Pointer had heard only one side of the telephone conversations. But it was enough.

Herman was dead – he must be if they had his cell phone. His loyal servant, his only friend, the one person in the world who had understood and shared his grief at the loss of Chuck. He was gone. They had both known, without ever saying, that it would end this way for them. They had silently accepted it, and in one way Pointer was envious of Herman. It was over now for him. He was at peace.

Pointer realized then that what he too desired more than anything was peace. But his ultimate act of revenge had to be carried out. He would make certain that it happened, even if he was not alive to see it.

He had less than two hours. He would not run; he would not try to escape; it was probably impossible now, and besides, he no longer wanted to escape.

His mind was working quickly. It was obvious that he had been set up. He thought back to the way he had first encountered Elena as she sought help on the Deep Web. He had helped her hack into first the MI5 computer system and then the British government's Permanent Joint Headquarters mainframe computer at Northwood. She had been desperate to access top-secret information in the SECRET: ULTRA files stored on the mainframe.

Those exploits had been for real; Pointer had no doubt about that.

Quickly he ran through the sequence of events. Elena had been searching for information to clear her friend's grandfather of accusations of treachery.

The exploit had been a success; Elena had confirmed that when she made contact again on the Deep Web.

But what had happened in the interim?

Pointer smiled an ironic smile. He looked at the video picture of Marcie with admiration as he realized that, had he had more time, he would probably have rejected Elena as an Angel.

But he hadn't. He'd made a mistake, and even geniuses made mistakes.

It was all so clear now: Elena had been recruited by the very people she had battled against.

Send a hacker to catch a hacker. Clever, very clever.

And yet, perhaps not clever enough.

His eyes flicked to the picture of Elena as she worked on in the hotel room. His mistake was going to prove fatal for him, but not for his mission.

He was confident that Elena was his now. Not theirs. He knew he had turned her completely. His enemies had made their mistake by offering him up such a vulnerable target. This was no seasoned intelligence operative; this was an inexperienced teenager, full of doubts and conflicts, suffering from huge emotional pain after her father's disappearance. And he still had that card to play.

Could she even now be playing a double game? He watched her for a few minutes more. Elena was risking her life by just making the device, and she was doing it with total commitment, in exactly the same way as his other Angels had.

No. He pushed the doubt from his mind. Elena would carry out his mission. The watchers would not stop her, not now.

Fergus was finding the walk down the concrete fire escape stairs at the Pennsylvania difficult and painful. He had taken the elevator to the floor above Elena's and was making his way down to RV with Danny.

Danny was relieved and delighted to see his grandfather; suddenly it seemed far more possible that they would all get out of this alive.

But Fergus had no time for greetings. 'Is she still coming out to get ice?'

'Every fifteen minutes or so.'

Fergus pulled the clear plastic bag of dull white powder from his pocket and Danny's eyes widened as he saw it.

'Is that . . . ?'

Fergus nodded. 'Yeah, cocaine. Makes the PE inert. Something good coming from this shit, eh? I picked up this little trick in Colombia. I was buying it in Oxford, a bit at a time. There's other stuff that'll do the same job, but this is the easiest to get hold of. I hope she can use it.' He stared through the small window. 'Which one's her room?'

'Fifth door down to the left; right-hand side. The ice machine is on our side, about halfway towards her door.'

They were suddenly aware of voices and they quickly ducked down below the window as a group of German tourists passed the fire escape door and headed on, past Elena's room towards the lifts.

'The next time Elena comes out, I'll—' Fergus stopped mid-sentence as he stood up and looked through the window. Elena's door was opening. 'Stay here.'

As Elena closed the door behind her, a large paper cup in each hand, she looked up and saw Fergus emerge from the door to the fire escape. She smiled briefly, and then Fergus was glad to see that she remembered her training and ignored him completely. He limped slowly towards her with the bag of white powder tucked under his jacket.

As they got closer, he heard the ping of the elevator as it stopped at the eighth floor. It was round the corner, past Elena's room, but already he could hear the sound of people approaching.

Fergus ignored the excited female voices. They were speaking Italian; this place was like the United Nations. The brush contact was on – nothing would stop it now; this might well be the last ice trip. Fergus fixed his eyes on Elena's and kept moving.

They were just a couple of steps away from each other when the Italian tourists turned the corner and came in their direction. Fergus dropped the bag into one of Elena's paper cups. 'Mix it,' he said as they passed each other.

He saw Elena's eyes widen, and a brief look of panic crossed her face. However, she didn't hesitate as she made her way to the vending machine room, and Fergus stood to one side as the three Italian woman nodded their thanks and continued down the corridor. Fergus didn't look back. He went straight on to the lifts and pressed the button to go up.

As the lift doors opened and Fergus stepped inside, he was praying that giving the cocaine to Elena would be enough until they could get her out. And at least now there was a chance that no one would die.

The explosive was made. The pale yellow, waxy mix was drying and hardening. Pointer watched as Elena removed a khaki-coloured fisherman's vest from one of the carrier bags. The vest had been her final purchase during the shopping expedition.

He'd allowed Elena to turn down the air conditioning now that the cooking was over, and the room temperature had returned to normal.

He watched carefully as she gingerly formed the semi-dry explosive into small slabs, which she gradually packed into the long rear pocket of the close-fitting vest.

Many of his instructions to Elena had been given directly to her via the TV, while others had been sent over on the website. Pointer wanted to keep Marcie exactly where she was while Elena completed the IED preparation.

Much of what he sent over only hinted at what Elena was doing, leaving Marcie to assume that additional instructions had been sent previously.

He would then speak directly to Elena through the television
in her room, but Marcie, in her suite at the Four Seasons, heard nothing of
that.

Fergus and Danny were behind the fire escape door, keeping a trigger through the small window. Each time a hotel guest passed they would duck down out of sight, grateful that no one, so far, had decided they wanted the exercise of a walk down the stairs.

Fergus had given Danny a quick briefing on what had happened following his arrest at Heathrow, and Danny was growing more anxious by the minute. He checked his watch and then looked at Fergus. 'Not long now, surely.'

Fergus was on stag, staring through the window towards Elena's room. 'Soon as we hear from Deveraux, we get Elena out of that room. I'll make the device safe and you take her away from here. We'll RV at the entrance to Madison Square Garden, over the road. Then it's out of the city and out of Deveraux's way.' He gently kicked Danny with his good leg. 'Your turn on stag.'

As Danny took over at the window, Fergus slid down the wall and gingerly stretched out his injured leg.

He pulled out his mobile phone and started dialling Deveraux's number. 'What's happening?' he asked as soon as she answered. 'Have they dropped him yet? The IED has got to be made safe and the room made sterile. I need to know what's going on!'

'You will,' hissed Deveraux. 'They know exactly what they're doing!

'But it's taking too long! She hasn't been out for more ice, which means she's making the PE. She could leave for the target at any moment. I need to know the minute it's safe to get her out of there!'

'Then get off the phone and wait for my call!' yelled Deveraux. She cut the call dead.

Danny moved away from the window as an elderly British couple approached along the corridor and walked slowly past, muttering to each other about the confusing American purchase tax they seemed to be paying on everything they bought.

Danny had been listening to Fergus's call. 'Elena is safe with the cocaine in the mix, right?'

'If she's managed to add it, yes. But Deveraux's a problem too. I want us out of her reach the second Black Star is dropped. I don't care about making the room sterile; Deveraux can do that. All I'm interested in is keeping the three of us alive.' He looked at Danny. 'You know how Deveraux likes to clean house.'

Fran and Mick were about ten miles from their destination. They had made their plans and knew full well they had no time to refine an intricate scheme to take down Black Star. They would carry out what was known as an Emergency Response, which comprised the three elements of the Fergus Watts version of SAS: Speed, Aggression and Surprise.

They had long ago left the towering skyline of Manhattan behind them and kept to the fast lane of Highway 495, heading east towards Long Island, land of the rich and famous.

Their headlights illuminated the exit highway signs displaying a strange mix of locations: names like Patchogue and Lake Ronkonkoma from the rich Native American past mingled with others such as Smithtown and Kings Park, which had been bequeathed to the area by the first English settlers.

Fran and Mick were again wearing two pairs of surgical rubber gloves, just as they had when they broke into the Winnebagos, and for the attack on the East 96
^th
Street apartment. As before, they had to ensure that they left no identifying traces during the operation.

Mick was checking Fran's Pll as the hire car's headlights pierced the darkening evening. He made sure the barrel was firmly connected into the pistol grip as he wiped it clean of any prints. He pressed the small tester button on the back of the grip: a small pinprick of red light appeared in the centre of the button to show that the battery still had power and the chunky five-round barrel was still in place.

Once he was satisfied that the weapon was fully functional, he began to check his own Pll.

'We know yours works,' said Fran with a smile.

Mick looked at the empty barrel, the one that had taken down Herman Ramirez. 'Yeah, it works fine.'

They were both carrying an extra barrel in their pockets, giving Fran ten rounds, Mick nine. They worked on the theory that if they needed more than that, they weren't doing their job properly, or were so deep in the shit that even another hundred rounds wouldn't help them.

Mick picked up the road map that was resting on his knees.
'Nearly there,' he said. 'Three more exits.'

Pointer knew the hunters were closing in fast. He sent another message to Elena.

Open the padded envelope now, Gola. U no wots inside.
U no wot 2 do with it.

Before Elena could punch out her reply, Pointer spoke to her directly.
'I know you don't know what to do with what's inside the envelope, Elena, but that message is for the person watching us.'

He saw Elena's eyes widen and her breath come more quickly. She knew.

'Who's watching?'

There was a slight pause before Pointer replied.
'The woman who sent you here to find me, Elena.'

'You . . . you know about her?' Elena's voice was breathy with panic.

'Of course I know about her – and everyone else too. I'm curious. Why didn't you tell me about Marcie?'

He saw Elena looking desperately around the room as if searching for an answer.

'Elena,'
Pointer demanded again.
'Why didn't you tell me? Are you working for them?'

Elena came close to the TV. She spoke urgently into the speaker.

'I was – once – at the beginning. But I'm not now. I promise. They're just using me, and I decided to let them . . . I want to do this thing. Nothing else matters to me now. My dad's gone, my friends—' Her voice broke. 'My only friend doesn't care any more, he just wants to be a soldier like his granddad.'

Pointer didn't say anything. Could this be an act? He saw tears running down Elena's face.

'Black Star?' she said, the note of desperation rising in her voice. 'Don't leave me! I want to be an Angel!'

That was enough. Pointer was convinced.

'Don't worry, Elena,'
he said.
'You're still my Angel. My very special Angel.'

'Thank you!'

He could hear the relief in her voice and saw the smile as she wiped away her tears.

'They've lost their battle, Elena. They never really cared for you, just as you said. All they care about is catching me. Marcie is at the Four Seasons Hotel, watching our messages. They know what you are doing and how dangerous it is. But do they do anything about it? No.'

Elena slumped and nodded. 'I know,' she said wearily. 'But I don't really care. It's not important now. What do we do next?'

Pointer smiled. He was right. He knew he was right.

'We're gonna do something great tonight. Now find the padded envelope I sent you.'

Elena reached for the envelope. Inside were a small square battery, a wooden clothes peg, some fishing line and a small sliver of plastic. The piece of plastic had a tiny hole close to one edge, and one end of the fishing line had been threaded through and tied securely.

'There are two drawing pins at the bottom,'
Pointer told her.
'Make sure you get those, and the invitation.'

Elena delved deeper into the envelope and took out the drawing pins and a printed invitation card.

She read the words on the stylish embossed card and turned back to the TV. 'Is that where I'm going?'

'Yes,'
said Pointer.
'It'll be a grand occasion and I only wish I could be there with you. But tonight it all ends for me too, Elena. I shall be making the ultimate sacrifice as well. After you, I promise. I told you before that when the time was right I would do it. It's only right that we both go tonight.'

Elena nodded and smiled. 'I'm glad.'

She placed the invitation on the bed and looked at the bizarre assortment of items she had pulled from the envelope. 'So what do I do now?'