Hetman: Hard Kil (4 page)

Snow grabbed at an exposed beam in the wall of the barn, closed his eyes, took several deep breaths and straightened up. Opening his eyes his vision was clear, but the pain was just as fierce. He focussed on the Makarov. It had a full clip of eight 9.22mm rounds. It was a basic weapon, but he liked its feel. It had been the first handgun he’d ever used as a teenager on a range in Moscow.

A hundred yards away Fox was looking relaxed. “You still got that scar on your stomach Marty?”

“Piss off Paddy, course I bloody have.”

“Show your friend.”

“Ach what for?”

“Think of it as a purple heart.”

Grew lifted his shirt and pretended to look annoyed.

“Where’s that from?” Quinn asked.

“He did it to me with a crappy little toy rifle!”

“You soft shite.”

“Soft! I was six and he was five. It hurt like hell.”

“But the mental scar still does, eh Marty?” Fox goaded.

The three men chuckled for several seconds and then lapsed into silence.

“Where are the other lads?”

“What, you don’t know Paddy?” Quinn asked suspiciously.

“Dolan claimed I didn’t need to know.”

“Then you don’t.” Quinn retorted.

“What’s the harm?” Grew tapped his nose. “Two boyos are waiting in Keady with a little surprise for Taylor. We’re gonna blow the big-mouth up when he leaves for work in the morning.”

“And the others?” Fox persisted.

“Out for the craic.” Quinn added angrily. “I should have been with em having a drink.”

“Will this do you?” McCracken entered from the hallway and held a bottle of whiskey in his hand.

Quinn reached for the bottle. Fox sensed that that although clearly in charge, McCracken had deference for the man.

“So what happens now?” Fox felt his heart rate quicken.

“I can’t get through to Dolan, can’t find a phone box and I’m not using this thing!” McCracken held up his mobile by its antenna, as though he was dangling a mouse by its tail. He swung it gently before putting it on a worktop. “This does however give me time to drink and gives you plenty of time to try and persuade me that yer for real. And if you can’t then…”

“Dolan won’t be happy if he loses me you know.” Fox noticed a reflection in the glass and let his eyes follow it.

“That’s a chance I’ll have to take. I’m not his whipping boy.”

“Just his rent boy?”

McCracken took a step forward and pointed angrily with his index finger. “Any more feckin wise cracks and I’ll slot you regardless of who you say you are!”

“Jimmy!” Grew left his chair; bringing his gun to bear on the window.

Fox sprang to his feet and kicked Grew in the groin. He staggered; Fox grabbed the AK and in the same second the kitchen window exploded behind them. Quinn’s Browning came up as two rounds tore into his skull. Fox turned the AK on McCracken but he was already moving and the 7.62 mm rounds drilled harmlessly into the wall behind. The IRA hard-man scampered away into the hall.

Snow entered through the backdoor holding the Makarov with a two handed grip. His aim moved from Fox to Grew.

“McCracken.” Fox said. “Moving.”

Snow paused for a millisecond before nodding his consent. He kept his pistol on Grew, who was lying on the floor clutching his groin as Fox ventured further into the house.

Fox hurtled down the hall, all thoughts of personal safety gone. The front door slammed and Fox thudded against it before pulling it open. Several shots rang out but Fox continued forward as the doorframe splintered around him. In the dark grey of early morning the tail lights of McCracken’s car burned brightly as it careered around a bend and out of sight.

Fox fired into the hedge that blocked his view in the hope of hitting something. He continued to give chase and arrived in the road to see McCracken speeding away.

Fox dropped to his knee, took aim and depressed the AK’s trigger. A final burst of rounds tore at the Cavalier, smashing the rear windscreen before the Kalashnikov clicked empty.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Fox shouted in disgust.

Snow looked around the kitchen. Quinn’s blood, bone and brain had painted one of the walls crimson but his hand still gripped his Browning 9mm. A bottle of Jameson’s lay next to the dead man’s leg and on the other side of the room Grew sat on the floor with his back against the wall and his knees against his chest.

“I knew he wasn’t for real. I just knew it!” Grew spat.

“Shut up.” Snow bent down to pick up the bottle, but wincing in pain thought better of it so rolled the whiskey with his foot towards Grew. “Open it.”

Grew slowly unscrewed the top. He held it up and Snow snatched it back.

“To the victor the spoils?” Fox’s voice was Scottish again.

“No I need it to stop the pain in my soddin head!” Snow took a long slug.

Grew started to chuckle. “That was a beauty.”

“Left or right? Which leg’s your favourite?”

“Screw you, ‘home counties’. Rules of engagement, I’m unarmed. You got me, but yer already in deep shit. You think the ceasefire is gonna last when the news gets out that you’ve assassinated a member of the South Armagh Brigade?”

Snow kept his Makarov aimed at Grew. The room became silent.

Fox shouldered the AK. “Aidan I’m Sorry, I had to make it look real – it was the only option. We couldn’t get away.”

“I figured that out, eventually.” Snow drank some more. “I could have slotted you, I almost did.”

Fox grinned and crossed to the window. “What happened to one in the barn?”

“I slotted him.”

“Good.”

“I snapped his neck.”

“He killed Fannon.”

“Him?”

“Aye. Marty here told me. The kid was a real psycho – why do you think McCracken recruited him?” Fox turned and leant back against the Belfast sink.

Snow pointed at McCracken’s mobile, still sitting on the worktop. “We need to phone in and tell them about McCracken.”

“And the IED they’ve gift wrapped for Taylor. But first this gob-shite here is going to give us the name of the RUC turncoat who let us through the cordon.”

“Keep dreaming Paddy. I know my rights.”

“Left.”

“What?”

“Shoot him in the left, Aidan.”

Snow pulled the trigger and sent a single round into Grew’s thigh.

“Ya feckin crazy man!” Grew rolled sideways, holding his thigh. “Ya going to feckin pay.”

“Sorry, I meant to say his right.” Fox shrugged.

Snow adjusted the aim of the Makarov.

“O’Briain! Brendan O’Briain that’s the bugger’s name!”

“Now that wasn’t so hard was it? Where’s McCracken running too, Marty?

“Yer out of your mind if you think…”

Snow fired again. This time the round smashed a floor tile next to Grew’s groin. “I shouldn’t drink and shoot.”

“The Republic.”

“Where?” Snow pointed the Makarov at Grew’s head.

“He’s got a safe house – Dolan set it up.”

Fox nodded. “Marty, one more question, before we put away the guns. I promise. How is your ma?”

“What?” Grew was confused. “She’s fine. Why do you want to know?”

“Does she still have that problem with her legs?”

“What problem?”

“You know, being unable to keep em closed!”

“You dirty bastard!”

“Dirty Sass bastard.” Fox looked at Snow and grinned.

Palace Barracks, Holywood, Northern Ireland.

Snow sat alone in the mostly empty canteen and nursed his coffee. Examined by an army doctor who had diagnosed a concussion and bruised spine, he had been given strong pain killers and told to rest up for a week.

After a few hours’ sleep however, Snow had pronounced himself fit for service. He closed his eyes momentarily and when he opened them Fox was sitting opposite.

“You OK?”

Snow nodded and wished that he hadn’t. “It tickles a bit.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I dunno Paddy.”

Fox’s voice became stern as he stared at the young trooper. “They had guns; they both would have used them on you. You’ve been bloodied. It’s Darwinian, better for you to be walking and talking than them.”

“You’re right.”

“Course I am. Look, if I told you that killing a man doesn’t change you I’d be telling porkies. But that’s what we’re trained for, isn’t it? Saving lives by, if necessary, taking others. You know that. ”

“Yes.” It wasn’t a line that the MOD liked to publish, but it was true nonetheless.

“Now listen, daft bollocks. I’ve just seen Lancing. The IED’s been neutralised, we’ve got McCracken’s men so Taylor gets to live.”

“Great.” Snow meant it. Taylor was no gun wielding madman; he was a citizen who had a right to openly express his opinions. Whether or not Snow agreed with Taylor’s opinions was not the issue. McCracken’s men had no right to use force to silence him.

“But, the Garda have arrested Dolan.”

“Bugger.”

“Aye, bugger indeed.” Fox muttered. The police in the Irish Republic were as eager as the RUC to make the ceasefire work, but in his experience their enthusiasm would probably mess things up. He cursed again, this time more at himself for failing to stop McCracken at the farmhouse. “That means we can kiss goodbye to Jimmy McCracken.”

“So he gets to re-group and start again somewhere else?”

Fox shrugged. “Perhaps in time, but the IRA has released a statement saying that they have nothing whatsoever to do with McCracken, Dolan or his group.”

“Handy.”

“O’Connor’s behind it, back channels and all that.”

“So is she still too political?”

“Always, but the result is that McCracken is out in the cold. He’s just a thug on the run with a gun.”

“You should get a pen and write that down.”

Fox allowed himself to smile. “I just might.”

“We still don’t know who his mole was.”

“Aye but he, or she will make a mistake – just you see.”

“So who saved the ceasefire us or them?”

Fox shrugged. “Does it matter? We had fun. Job done.”

Snow sipped his coffee and made no comment.

***

ALSO BY ALEX SHAW

HETMAN – the 1
^st
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A Special Forces Thriller
introducing a reluctant hero, former SAS Trooper Aidan Snow.

Attacked
by an unknown adversary,
Framed
for two assassinations,
Hunted
by the Ukrainian Security Service, the life of former SAS Trooper Aidan Snow has been blown apart.

Teaching at an international school in Ukraine, former SAS Trooper Aidan Snow has laid the nightmares of his past to rest. But when after ten years Snow meets again the man who put a gun to his head and ended his military career his past becomes very real. Told by the British Secret Intelligence Service (SIS) that his would be tormenter is dead Snow tries to forget...

Attacked by an unknown adversary, Framed for two high profile assassinations and Hunted by the Ukrainian Security Service, Snow is torn from the life he has worked so hard to build and must once again rely on his SAS training in an attempt to clear his name.

Discovering a mercenary brigade made up of former Soviet Spetsnaz soldiers Snow trusts only himself to stop them and save those he cares about.

Snow is left one step ahead of the authorities with no one to watch his back.

In a Fire Fight, Pray for SNOW....

Start reading HETMAN on your Kindle now:

US:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00381B3UE

UK:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00381B3UE

COLD BLACK – the 2
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Abduction, Assassination, Al-Qaeda – Aidan Snow returns.

Abduction

Veteran SAS trooper, Paddy Fox has lost his job, his wife and his temper. Whilst bitterly job hunting, Fox witnesses a car crash and finds himself rescuing a kidnapped Saudi Royal. Persuaded by MI6 to accept a job as security adviser in Saudi Arabia, Fox travels to Riyadh.

Assassination

In Kyiv, a director of the Belorussian KGB is gunned down whilst trying to pass shocking intelligence to his counterpart in the Ukrainian SBU. Intelligence, which if verified, sets out plans to commit international acts of terror.

Al-Qaeda

In Saudi Arabia, an entire British Trade mission is taken hostage by a new, highly funded, group aligned to Al-Qaeda. But who is funding this new insurgency and why?

An International Conspiracy

Former SAS Trooper turned MI6 operative, Aidan Snow is caught in a maelstrom involving East, West and Middle East which endangers the world’s supply of oil.

Start reading COLD BLACK on your Kindle now:

US:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00408A6C0

UK:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00408A6C0

HETMAN: DONETSK CALLING – an Aidan Snow short story

Former SAS Trooper turned MI6 Operative Aidan Snow returns in a short story preceding the release of the third Aidan Snow thriller.
As an ex-pat Brian Webb has a great life, a sexy wife and a perfect daughter. But all this is put in jeopardy when on his way home from a night of heavy drinking he is chased by a group of armed assailants. Who are his pursuers, what do they want from him and why are they shooting? Webb would rather not hang around to find out. Crashing a stolen car in an attempt to escape Webb is blooded, cornered and out of options…left with no other choice he calls the only person who would never let him down. He calls Aidan Snow.
Arriving in Kyiv, Snow takes the law into his own hands in an attempt to find and rescue one of his oldest friends. With the ghosts of the past on his shoulders Snow must again rely on his SAS training and will not stop until he discovers the truth.

Start reading HETMAN: DONETSK CALLING on your Kindle now: