Back Track (43 page)

As he got closer, he watched her face. She looked confused and scared. Still as pretty as ever, but the eyes looking back at him were different. Not just drugged, but older. The spark he’d seen before was missing. Maybe forever. Then Bishop saw a glint of recognition enter them. Slowing, he stared hard at her and gave a minuscule shake of his head.
Say nothing
. He had no idea if she understood.

‘Stop there,’ Poleina said. ‘Hallaran said we leave now. He wants you inside. Where are the keys for the car?’

Bishop came to a halt ten feet away. Help Selina or Vallejo? Or more to the point, help who first? But he already knew the answer. They had two guns trained on him. One of them looked like a micro Uzi machine pistol, but smaller. The moment he brought his arms around, they’d cut him to pieces. He was no good to Selina dead. And Vallejo would be out of ammo soon.

‘They’re still in the ignition,’ he lied, edging to the left. Keeping his eyes on Selina, he said, ‘I’ll come back for you.’

Poleina frowned and said, ‘Thank you, but we will be fine on our own.’ Bishop hoped Selina had understood what he was saying, but she made no response.

Bishop left them and ran towards the sounds of gunfire. She’d been inches away from him. Almost close enough to touch. He told himself he had no choice. That with the car keys in his pocket, they’d have to make for the plane by foot. With a wounded man and a girl in heels. That would take at least five minutes. And the pilot would have to finish refuelling, too. Then prepare for take-off. It would all take time. He checked his watch as he ran. 01.28. From now on, every second counted.

At the back of the room were two wide entranceways leading to the main north–south corridor. By the time he reached the right-hand opening, the gunfire had stopped. Temporarily, at least. He poked part of his head round and looked to his right, towards the south side of the hangar. He saw nobody. He heard faraway voices, but they were indistinct.

Holstering the Glock, he pulled his cell from a pocket, pressed the 2 button and held it to his ear. After what seemed like minutes, the ringing tone was replaced by Vallejo’s breathless voice. ‘I was just about to call. We’re in bad shape here, Bishop.’

‘I figured,’ he said. ‘What’s your situation, how many of you are there, and how much ammo have you got left?’

‘We’re in room 2. I had the last four women with me, but two of them panicked and ran out of here screaming when the gunfire started. They’re both dead, about ten feet away from me. I’m down to my last six rounds. I think two bad guys. One each end of this passageway. We’re blocked in with no way out. Wait one.’ Bishop heard two loud shots, followed by a burst of return fire. Then Vallejo said, ‘Down to four rounds now, but I think I might have hit one of them. I live in hope.’

‘What about Patricia?’

‘Far as I know, she’s at the tunnel with the other two, waiting for me.’

‘Okay, maybe I can help get you there. I’ll call you back.’

He hung up and peered round again. Still nobody in sight. There were two intersections to his right. The first allowed access to rooms 4 to 6. The last led to rooms 1, 2 and 3. To his left was the main east–west corridor. He ran for that one.

When Bishop reached the end of the corridor he checked both ways. The left was clear. But so was the right. Yet if Vallejo had been right about being flanked at both ends, Bishop should have been able to see one of them, even from this distance.

Then he looked more carefully. There
was
somebody down there, but he was lying on the floor. Easy to miss at this distance. Maybe Vallejo was a better shot than she gave herself credit for. Still holding the Sig, Bishop ran to the other end of the corridor, finally reaching the figure almost thirty seconds later.

The man was lying on his back, a Glock forgotten in his right hand. He was staring calmly at the ceiling. Blood was pumping steadily out of the gunshot wound in his neck and pooling around his head. It wasn’t the same guy he’d seen talking with the fat man earlier. Different clothes. Which meant this probably wasn’t Hallaran. Pity.

Bishop reached down and plucked the gun from his hand. The man was too far gone to notice. Bishop checked the magazine. Almost empty. There was a spare magazine in his pocket, though, so Bishop took that and tossed the gun. He then stepped over the dying man and peered round the next corner, scanning the length of the corridor. He saw two female bodies in nightwear lying on the floor, halfway down. Blood everywhere. There was no sign of Hallaran. The door to the second room on the left was wide open. From this position the angle was too acute to see inside.

He brought out his cell and said, ‘Vallejo, you there? Vallejo?’

‘I’m here,’ she said. ‘Where are you?’

‘On your right, at the end of the corridor.’ He looked back at the gunman. The flow of blood had already stopped. ‘The man you shot is history. I need you to count to five and then run towards me, okay? I’ll cover you.’

‘Got it.’

Bishop pocketed the phone and stepped into the corridor, aiming the Sig towards the spot where the other gunman was supposed to be. Bishop had a strong feeling it was Hallaran. It was also possible he’d doubled back to come up behind him. Bishop took a few steps back to the corner so he could see in both directions. There was nothing behind him.

Then a pair of barefoot women in light nightgowns burst out of the room with Vallejo at the rear, shouting, ‘Go, go, go.’ As they ran towards him, Bishop kept his gun trained on Hallaran’s position, expecting gunfire, but there was nothing.

When they reached him, Vallejo saw the body on the floor and said, ‘Where’s the other one?’

‘He’ll be around,’ Bishop said. He unclipped the belt holster with the Glock and the two spare magazines and passed it to her. ‘This is everybody?’

‘All except Selina,’ Vallejo said, clipping the holster to her own belt.

‘Yeah, I saw her when—’ Bishop stopped at the faint sounds of gunfire coming from somewhere behind them. Two shots. Then a pause. Followed by three more shots. What did they signify? It couldn’t be Patricia. She wouldn’t be dumb enough to leave the safety of the tunnel.

Then Bishop looked up as the closest sprinkler twenty feet away suddenly erupted and began spraying the floors and walls. Simultaneously accompanied by the other sprinklers. All of them. In every corridor.

Except he knew it wasn’t water pouring out of the sprinkler heads. It was gasoline.

‘Are you kidding me?’ Vallejo said, turning in a circle as she held a hand over her nose. The stench of gas was already overpowering, the air already thick with fumes.

‘Hallaran’s Plan B,’ Bishop said. ‘He’s decided it’s time to cut his losses.’

Bishop had already assumed the place was booby-trapped. It had to be. It was the smart move. So, remembering Hallaran’s MO up till now, Bishop had simply put two and two together and come up with the only possible answer. This one. It explained the lack of fire extinguishers, as well as the absent sprinkler in the office. And then there was the flare gun he’d picked up earlier in the tunnel. In an emergency, Hallaran could have retreated to that room, fired a flare towards the other side of the hangar and immediately set the place alight. Meanwhile he’d casually make his getaway, confident that all the evidence and any potential witnesses would be destroyed in one go. Especially his own personnel.

Except he couldn’t access his tunnel now. Bishop had removed that option. But Hallaran would still be here, somewhere. He wouldn’t leave until he was sure Bishop was dead. Until they were
all
dead.

Bishop turned to see Vallejo looking at him, still shaking her head. The two young girls, one a redhead, the other a brunette, were also staring at him as though he had all the answers.
If only
, he thought.

‘What are your names?’ he asked.

‘Emma,’ the redhead said.

‘I’m Melissa,’ said the other one. Her pupils looked like black pearls.

‘Okay, Melissa and Emma, we’re gonna have to run past these sprinklers. Try and get as little on you as possible. Melissa, take my hand. Emma, take Vallejo’s there. I don’t want anyone getting left behind. Vallejo, cover our backs as we go, okay?’

‘Right,’ she said.

Emma said, ‘Are we going to die?’

‘Eventually,’ he said, ‘just not today. We ready?’

Emma nodded. Melissa didn’t respond. Vallejo said, ‘Let’s do it.’

Without another word, Bishop set off and they all followed. They progressed down the passageway at a decent speed, splashing through the steadily growing pools of gasoline every few seconds. They kept to the right so the falling rain only came into contact with their feet and lower legs. But even that was too much.

Bishop checked his watch as he ran. It was already 01.32. Selina would be at the plane within a couple of minutes. And not long after that, they’d finish refuelling and take off. He forced himself not to think about it. There was nothing he could do right now. Instead, he focused on Hallaran, who’d be waiting for them. Bishop would have to be ready.

When Bishop reached the corridor that led to the garage, he stopped before it and peered round the corner. He saw a man lying next to an open doorway about fifty yards down, with blood all over his face. One of the hypnotherapists, possibly. Which explained the gunshots he’d heard. Hallaran was just being his usual thorough self. No loose ends allowed.

He turned back to Vallejo. ‘Keep an eye out. Hallaran’s around here somewhere.’

‘I kind of figured that,’ she said.

Bishop clutched Melissa’s hand again and took off down the corridor at a fast jog, all his senses alert. He slowed at the open doorway, gun aimed at the darkness within, then speeded up again knowing Vallejo was covering their backs. But there were no more shots.

He passed Abraham’s room and slowed his pace, stopping just before the end. Above the four-way intersection ahead was another working sprinkler. The floor underneath was drenched in gas. Letting go of Melissa’s hand, Bishop took a few paces forward and glanced round the corner. Then immediately dropped to the floor as an automatic weapon sprayed the wall beside him, the bullets barely missing his head as small chunks of plywood rained over his body. It was coming from the reception room to his left. Bishop aimed the Sig in that direction and returned fire. As he crawled back to the safety of the corridor, he got a glimpse of the same man he’d seen earlier. Hallaran.

Then more shots, but from a semi-auto this time. The two girls screamed behind him. Vallejo shouted, ‘
Get down
,’ and then started firing at the hallway directly opposite. Bishop looked up and saw a man shooting back before ducking into the comms room doorway. That had to be Kiervan. There was nobody else left.

The moment Vallejo stopped shooting, Kiervan reappeared and fired back. Bishop raised himself up and let off another volley. Vallejo joined in. Bishop kept shooting, hitting nothing, until the trigger clicked on empty. He ejected the magazine, pulled the last spare from his pocket and rammed it home. Then he saw Kiervan fall back against the wall with a red bloom on his chest. He got off two more shots before Bishop aimed carefully at his head and fired once. Kiervan’s head snapped back and he fell to the floor, unmoving.

Behind Bishop, the screaming had turned to crying. He turned and saw Vallejo leaning against the wall with a hand against her side, the blood already staining her shirt.

‘Bastard gave me a little something to remember him by,’ she said, wincing. ‘I’ll be okay.’

Bishop saw Melissa had been hit, too. She was crying as she held a bloody hand against her upper right arm. Emma looked dazed, but unharmed.

They were so close. Just a few more yards to the office. And only Hallaran left now. Except he had a sub-machine gun, which trumped two semi-automatic pistols every time.

‘You’re too late, Bishop,’ Hallaran called out from round the corner. ‘Your little woman’s gone, but at least she’ll be alive. Can’t say the same for you, though.’

Bishop heard something heavy hit the wall and then a
whumpf
sound. Probably a flare. Bishop could already smell burning. The fire would spread quickly. The intersection would be impassable in a matter of seconds. They needed to move. Right now. He turned back to Vallejo and said, ‘This whole place is about to go up. The office is just there on the other side. You can make it.’

She took her hand away from her side and stared at the blood. ‘Can’t argue with a confident man,’ she said.

‘Come on, let’s go,’ he said, helping her up. ‘I’ll give you cover.’

He also pulled Emma and Melissa to their feet and got all three to hold hands. Then he took a quick look round the corner. The flames were rising up the walls and steadily advancing along the floor like flowing lava. Less than ten feet away and gaining fast.

‘Run,’ he said. ‘
Now
.’

He emerged from the corridor and started firing at the spot where he’d last seen Hallaran. Everything was now obscured by flames and smoke. From the corner of his eye, he saw Vallejo dragging the two girls across the main passageway. There was another burst from the machine gun and Bishop ducked and fired off a continuous volley of shots. He risked a glance and saw the girls had reached the safety of the next corridor. Still shooting, Bishop ran across the intersection, through the pool of gas, and reached the other side just as the Sig clicked empty. The fire was still advancing towards him. He dropped the gun and ran over to the office door and saw Vallejo already pushing the girls inside.

‘Shut this door and get them out of here, Vallejo,’ he yelled over the noise of the flames. ‘I have to go.’ He didn’t wait for a reply, just kept on running. When he reached the door at the end, he yanked it open and re-entered the garage.

The place was still in total darkness. Bishop felt around the wall until he found the switch he knew was there. The lights came on and he ran over to Neeson’s BMW and removed the canvas. He retrieved the keys from his pocket, unlocked it and got in. After pressing the button to open the shutters, he pulled his seat belt across and pulled Neeson’s .38 from his waistband. Just six rounds, but they’d have to do. He placed the gun on the seat next to him. As he started the engine, he remembered Neeson was still unconscious in the trunk. Then put him out of his mind. At least this way the guy wouldn’t burn to death.