Greed (30 page)

He heard another shot and a bullet flew past him, hitting the mud a couple of feet from where he was lying. A different direction tins time – Perky had moved, and was hiding behind a tree ten yards to his right.

He's going to get behind me, Matt realised. Then he's got a clean shot, straight into my back. If I don't move quickly, I'm buggered.

'Give me cover!' he roared.

He stood up, his arm gripped tightly around Perky's chest. The corpse was heavy, at least two hundred pounds, and the lead that was filling up inside it was making it bulkier still. Matt stumbled backwards, struggling to hold his balance. From behind the ridge, a volley of shots rang out. Matt held his pistol in his right hand, firing four shots towards both Perky and Alison. The sound of gunfire filled the air, the noise of each shot bouncing off the trees, the echoes giving the impression of a hundred different guns being fired at the same time.

Matt waited until he had stumbled back to within five yards of the ridge. Then he dropped Pinky. He turned and ran, the adrenaline pumping furiously into his heart as his legs drove him forwards. Throwing himself into the air, Matt hurled himself at the ridge. His shoulder caught the edge of the mud, knocking him sideways. With a crash he fell into a pile of leaves and roots, his head smashing into the wood, which tore a cut down the side of his face.

'Remember Miss Christina?' said Damien. 'That French bird who used to take ballet class back at our nursery school? She always said you had rubbish coordination. I reckon she was right.'

Damien. He was wearing a black leather trenchcoat, the collar turned up around his neck, and he was holding a Czech-made VZ-52 rifle: a particularly rare but high-prized armament he had taken a liking to after being introduced to it by eastern European gangsters in London.

Next to him, Gill was holding a rifle. She was wearing a blue waxed jacket, high leather boots, and the rain had washed through her hair and was dripping over her face. She looked magnificent.

'You're meant to be dead,' said Matt.

'Out of fashion, maybe, mate. But not dead,' said Damien.

'And still getting you out of scrapes,' said Gill.

A volley of bullets flew past the ridge, and they all ducked. 'Our money's just down there,' said Matt.

He paused, peering above the line of earth. The rain was hitting him in the eyes, blown into his face by the wind, making it difficult to see anything. Alison was behind the same oak tree, Perky had moved to another one five yards away. There was a good chance that reinforcements were about to move in on them anytime. Fortune, Matt, decided, was about to favour the brave. This was a moment for maximum speed, maximum aggression.

'You know how to use that thing?' he said, looking towards Gill.

'Try me,' she replied.

Matt grinned. 'OK,' he said. 'Just give us plenty of covering fire. Damien, you take Alison, I'll deal with Perky. Gill, you pump as much ammunition as you can into the air. It doesn't matter if you hit them, it's just to keep them pinned back.'

His heart was beating furiously and the blood was pumping through his veins. He peered over the ridge. Their position had not changed.

He felt a momentary twinge of fear. My friend has just come back to me, he thought. So has my fiancee. And now I'm about to risk losing them again.

'Go!' he roared to both of them, bellowing above the wind and the rain.

Gill took up position behind the ridge. The rifle was gripped tight to her shoulder, a fresh magazine slotted into place, and five spare cartridges lay at her side. She pointed the weapon in the direction of Alison's tree and started firing. Then she turned it towards Perky, loosening off another round of bullets.

Matt tightened his grip on the Walther. There were just two rounds left in the magazine, and he knew he would have to make them count. It was maybe twenty-five yards to where Perky was standing. There was some cover from the trees, but he would have to move about ten yards across open ground.

An armed moving target is always difficult to hit.

Let's hope he's not a good shot.

Matt started to run. His feet were beating against the ground as he threw himself across the open space. The sound of gunfire rattled through his ears, but through the rain he couldn't tell where it was coming from. Gill was firing off round after round, so were Alison and Damien. Matt pushed forwards, keeping his head bowed: if a bullet did strike, it would be better to keep it away from the head or the chest where it would do most damage. He could see Perky loosening off a round, swerved, and managed to survive. He pressed forward five yards. The man was running now, switching from one tree to another. Matt hurled himself behind a tree trunk ten yards in front of him. A piece of bark splintering off the tree hit him in the face just below the eye, colliding with the wound that had already opened up on his face. The pain stung him hard, blurring his vision.

He paused, trying to recapture his breath. There was a silence. Perky had stopped shooting. Alison was steadying herself behind the tree that was covering her: even from this distance Matt could see she was reloading her weapon. Matt peered around the side of the tree. Perky was reloading the magazine on the Walther. From experience with that gun, Matt knew it would take between five and six seconds depending on how good he was.

Enough time for a man to die.

Matt jumped away from the tree, exposing himself on open ground. He held his gun straight out in front of him, lining the sight up with his eye. Perky looked up at him, a grin suddenly lighting up his face as he clicked the Walther's magazine into place.

Matt squeezed the trigger once, then twice, and cast the empty gun to the ground.

The first bullet hit Perky on the right shoulder, just above the heart. It sent him staggering backwards, twisting his shoulder and knocking the gun out of his hand. The second hit him straight in the chest, just below the heart, knocking him to the ground.

Matt ran forward, diving for the gun that had fallen from his grip. He jammed it into Perky's ear and pulled the trigger. The bullet lodged into his skull, killing him instantly.

'He's dead!' Matt shouted. 'Gill, turn your fire on Alison.'

He looked up into the woods. He could see that Alison was emerging from a tree forty yards away. Behind, Damien was descending on her position. Gill was crawling across the muddy ground to Matt's left, the rain lashing against her face. The gun was sitting between her forearm and her shoulder, her finger still poised on the trigger. A triangle was slowly being formed around Alison from which escape would be impossible.

Matt took Perky's Walther and ran across the woodland. He looked up ahead. Alison was clutching her shoulder, blood dripping down the side of her arm. Damien was standing next to her, the barrel of the VZ-52 pointing directly at her heart. Matt could see her gun lying on the ground at her side. Damien had shot it out of her hand by firing straight at her shoulder.

'Aren't you full of surprises?' said Matt, looking towards Gill and smiling. 'I didn't realise how much danger I was in when I cancelled the wedding.'

'You grow up in my family, you learn something about handling firearms,' she replied.

Matt stopped five yards short of where Alison was standing. 'March her back towards the pit,' he said, pointing to where Alison had been digging, and where the Semtex was still buried.

Damien tapped her on the shoulder with the VZ-52. She winced in pain. More blood was flowing now, staining her jacket. Matt could see the colour start to drain away from her face as the loss of blood took its toll. Over the past few weeks he had learnt to respect her strength, if not her honesty. He knew she would hang on to life like a crab to a stone.

Now Alison stood silently in the ditch. Matt could see her glancing down, wondering which of the bags contained the Semtex. He took the explosive's trigger and held it up in the air. Bending down, he gripped Ivan's shoulder, dragged him twenty yards through the mud, and left the body behind a tree.

Walking swiftly back to where Alison was standing, he held up the trigger in front of her. 'Now, where were we before we got interrupted?' he said. 'I remember. I was about to blow you away.'

Matt detected a trace of fear in Alison's face, but mostly her expression was one of regret.

She minds because she is about to die
–
but she minds getting beaten more.

'You idiot,' she said, casting her eyes towards Gill. 'You don't know what you're doing.'

Gill shrugged. 'I'm the one holding the gun,' she answered. 'And I'm the only woman walking out of this wood alive. That doesn't make me so stupid.'

Alison laughed. 'You risk your life to save this pathetic washed-up squaddie,' she said, 'when for the past few weeks he's been screwing me every chance he gets. He doesn't care about you. All he wants is the money.'

The rain lashed harder against Matt's face. His hand gripped tighter on his pistol. He looked up into Gill's face. Maybe that was a tear running down her cheek, maybe it was the rain. He couldn't tell. But he could be certain of one thing – if she listened to Alison, the next few minutes could turn very nasty. Gill could control most things, but her temper was not among them.

The tip of Gill's rifle turned slowly away from Alison and towards Matt. Her finger was on the trigger; he could see the nail vibrating with rage. 'Is that true?' she said softly.

'This was about you all along, Gill, you know that,' said Matt. 'I only got involved with this mission so that I could make enough money to clear my debts. Then we could be together again.'

'You sad little fool,' Alison sneered. 'You're sitting at home grieving over him, and he's screwing everything that moves.'

It's working, thought Matt.

She'll push Gill over the edge if I don't stop her soon.

'You know that photograph of you, the one in the bedroom in Spain?' said Alison. 'Right next to the picture of his first day in the Regiment? He even put that away.'

Matt could see Gill's finger hovering on her trigger. 'That's not true, is it, Matt?'

Blood was seeping from the wound on his face, trickling down his cheek and smearing on the edge of his lips. He spat on the ground. 'She's just trying to save her miserable skin,' he replied. 'I'd rather sleep with a rattlesnake.'

'I'm a dead woman, I know that,' Alison snapped. 'Either she kills me out of jealousy or you kill me for revenge.' She looked towards Gill, her eyes suddenly full of sympathy. 'I just think you should know the truth.'

'The truth is, everything she's saying is lies,' Damien said, stepping forward. 'Complete lies.'

Gill looked towards her brother.

'I've been with this man all through the mission – the training, everything,' Damien said. 'I tell you, nothing happened between them.'

Matt watched as Gill took in what Damien had said. He had known these two people since they were all children. She would always believe her brother. He glanced up towards Alison. She knew the end was approaching, and suddenly she appeared afraid.

In the end, courage abandons even the bravest of us.

Matt trained his gun on her. 'Everybody walk back ten paces,' he commanded.

He walked backwards through the mud, waiting until Gill and Damien were also a safe distance from the ditch. Then he looked up into Alison's eyes. 'I hope they need intelligence officers in heaven,' he said. 'Otherwise, they aren't going to let you in.'

'Don't do it, Matt!' she yelled. 'Please!'

Her voice turned into a scream, carried by the wind high up into the trees. Matt slammed his finger down on the trigger, moving quickly back another couple of paces. The explosion lit up the wood, sending shafts of bright light hurtling in every direction. Mud and smoke churned into the air, and somewhere in the middle of the carnage he thought he heard a cry that lasted no more than a fraction of a second.

The shockwave from the explosion rolled over him and he could hear the branches of the trees creaking and shaking. Then, within three seconds, the noise subsided and the wind started to blow away the smoke.

Matt took a few steps forward. The Semtex had blown a hole several feet in the ground. Alison had been torn in a hundred different pieces; strips of flesh were draped on the branches like ribbons, and her blood was already being washed into the roots of the trees by the rain.

Matt looked back towards Gill and Damien. 'Let's get our money and get out of here.'

There was a feeling of emptiness inside as he walked away. It was a familiar emotion, one he knew from every battlefield he had ever been on: a sense of loneliness that overcame him after each mission. You fought with your squadron alongside you, but every kill was your own responsibility. Nobody could share that with you.

Three weeks ago, I had been grateful to her for giving me another chance. Now I'm just as grateful that it's her who got blown to pieces, not me.