I, Spy? (26 page)

But someone had, and I realised as I saw Sven start running towards me, that it wasn’t him. I lifted my gun and aimed and squeezed the trigger and
nothing happened
.

I stared in shock. It was broken! Macbeth gave me a broken gun!

Sven was three feet away now, pistol aimed at me, and I saw him nudge something on the barrel with his thumb. The safety! Of course! I pulled the catch, squeezed the trigger and shot Sven just as he landed on top of me.

He lay still, and so did I, winded, horrified. I’d just shot him. I’d just shot him—I pushed him off me and stared in horror at the blood leaking from the hole in his chest—I’d shot him and he was dead. There was blood on me too, on my clothes, on my skin. He was dead.

Oh, Jesus. I am in bad trouble
.

I heaved myself over his body and ran to the shadows under the hut. Maria lay there, a bleeding bruise on her head, her hand pressed to her flat stomach where the bullet had lodged. I fumbled for her pulse and found it. She was alive. Fuck knows how, but she was alive.

I was just about to run back to the car for my phone to call for help when I heard movement from inside the hut. Whoever was inside was coming outside and I heard Alexa’s voice say, “…Hope the little bugger hasn’t got himself shot. He’s a bit too cute to—”

And then she stopped, because she saw me, and she reached for a gun and so did Wright, and I aimed mine. And for a few seconds we all aimed at each other, hardly breathing.

“How theatrical,” Alexa said. “You do see the dilemma, don’t you, Sophie? I always thought you were quite bright, contrary to appearances.”

I looked between them. Dilemma? My whole freaking life was a dilemma. I was kneeling there with two people aiming guns at me. And I only had one gun. Which I didn’t know how to use.

“I can only shoot one of you,” I said.

“Leaving the other to kill you. Unless we both shoot you at the same time.” She glanced at Wright, who nodded eagerly.

“Making the body count one-four-seven,” I said. If they thought Maria was still alive, they might shoot her again. “A whole planeful of people. All those children. Do you have something against schools, Lex?”

She laughed. “I was a goddess at school.”

“When did you get the wheelchair?”

She cocked her head. “When I was discharged from the SAS because I’d never walk again. When they never checked properly. Clearly, their diagnosis was wrong.”

“But you never told anyone?”

“I never needed to. People never correct a disabled person. People never check their work. People never suggest they might be wrong, because that would be politically incorrect.”

Jesus. So that was why One had never checked her files? Because he was afraid of upsetting her?

Or because he was crap with computers? Talk about a tin-pot operation.

“I checked your work,” I said boldly. I was still crouched by Maria and my legs were starting to cramp. “I found the deleted files. You killed Chris Mansfield.”

“Wrong place, wrong time,” she shrugged. “I hear he went down there to screw his girlfriend. Speaking of which, how are you getting on with Luke?”

“He’s not my girlfriend.”

She laughed. “You’re funny. I always liked that about you. Shame,” she slid back something on her gun, and I panicked, because I didn’t know if I’d have to do the same, “I’m going to have to kill you.”

“Luke will know,” I said quickly, my voice rising. “He’ll find me and Maria. He’ll match up the bullets. He’ll know you killed One—”

“Sven killed One,” Alexa dismissed.

“And I killed Sven,” I said clearly, gladly.

Wright raised his gun. “You—” He fired a shot, and then all was chaos. Wright’s bullet pinged off the hut behind me. I raised my gun to shoot him but there was another shot, someone had got there first. Wright slumped face down in the mud and Alexa, her gun still trained on me, flicked her head over to the direction the bullet had come from.

Then, so fast I hardly saw her move, she’d swung the gun around and shot the shooter. Macbeth. I saw him fall to the ground. He made a heavy thud.

Really panicking now, I pushed myself upright, tears in my eyes, and shot at Alexa. But a cramp made me stumble and I fired off-target, missing her body but hitting her hands.

Her gun fell to the floor and she clutched at her right hand.

“You fucking bitch,” she cried. “What was that for?”

I stared at her.

“Oh. Right. Oh, come on, he was expendable anyway. Like you. Not a proper agent.”

Bitch
.

“You’d be surprised how fast I’m learning,” I said.

“I tried to put you off. I thought you would quit easier.”

“The fingers?”

“They were gross.” Alexa managed a smile, although I could see tears on her face. “Weren’t they gross?”

“Some of them were mouldy,” I said.

“You see? A normal person would be put off by mouldy fingers.”

“A normal person wouldn’t get hired by a government special operation.”

“Oh, he only hired you because he wanted to shag you.”

My finger tightened on the trigger. “Were you Wright’s partner?”

She dropped to her knees, still cradling her bleeding hand. “Why do you care?”

“You had all those people killed!”

“Oh, that. Had to bring down share prices somehow.”

“Why? He’s been skimming. He’s loaded!”

“He’s been skimming?” Alexa shot Wright’s body a contemptuous look. “Stupid fuck. He never spent a cent, did you know that? He was such a cheapskate, all the time.”

“He wanted the airline cheap?”

“Wanted to get everything cheap. First Ace, then trains, and cars. Wanted to be a transport magnate. Buy up something small and expand it. Kill the competition.”

I had a feeling that wasn’t a metaphor.

“That was it? He just wanted transport companies?”

“Plane, trains and automobiles. Like a little boy.”

“And you were his partner?”

“I was his bloody puppet master. He couldn’t even fasten his fly without my help.”

Charming image.

“And now you can’t fasten it either. Did you have to kill all those people?”

“I didn’t kill them. It was an accident.”

“The whole crash was a complete accident?”

Alexa shrugged. She was sitting on a piece of wood now, most of her body covered with blood from her hand. “I may have loosened a few screws. Sven did most of it.”

“How long was he involved in this?”

“What is this, twenty questions? Since he started at Ace. We needed someone on the inside. I had my pass but he knew people. He was trusted. He was David’s nephew, you know. Not Norwegian at all.” Figured. From now on I was going to ask all foreigners for proof of nationality before believing they weren’t faking it. “Is he dead?”

I wasn’t sure. “Yes.”

“Did you ever fuck him?”

“No.”

“Nah,” she shrugged again, “you weren’t missing much. He wanted you, though. He wanted you so much he tried to drug you.”

“I know.”

“Yeah. Should have been you in that cell. Well, not that cell, wouldn’t want Luke to find you.” She dragged in a deep breath. “Are we going to be here all night? Can’t you call an ambulance or something?”

She didn’t deserve one. “Like you called an ambulance for One?”

She slumped. “One was an interfering old bugger. I ran SO17, not him.”

I believed her. “Did you have to kill him?”

“He saw me getting Sven out. He had to die. Look, Sophie, I’m sorry. Just put the bloody gun down and call me a bloody ambulance. I could die from blood loss.”

“Don’t you think you deserve it?”

She stared at me. “I was paralysed,” she said. “I couldn’t move my legs for thirteen bloody months! They told me I would never walk again and if it hadn’t been for David, I never would have.”

“What do you mean?”

“Reconstructive surgery isn’t cheap, you know. Neurosurgeons and the like. Funny thing was, I could have done it myself if I hadn’t been paralysed.”

Yeah, that was funny.

“Sophie.” She looked so small and broken. “I’ve confessed. Lock me up. Put me in that manky car of yours and take me away. But please don't let me bleed to death.”

“You deserve it.” Mostly for calling Ted manky.

“No, I deserve an eternity of torment in Holloway.”

She had a point. Transferring the gun to one hand, I walked forward carefully, holding out my free hand to pull her to her feet. She looked up at me, smiled gratefully, then slammed a piece of splintered wood into my leg.

I yelped and screamed and went down to the ground. The gun went off and I honestly don’t know who pulled the trigger, just that there was blood on my face, blood everywhere, pain everywhere, I thought I was dead or dying, and then another shot rang out, and another, and Alexa suddenly went still, and I blinked up to see Luke and Harvey looking down at me.

For a second, nobody spoke. I narrowed down the pain to my head and my leg. I wasn’t dying. Go figure.

“Where did you go?”

Harvey nodded at Luke. “Backup.”

“You went for backup? You left me alone with all these psychos?”

“And two other special agents.” Harvey dropped down by Macbeth. “Hey. Are you okay?”

To my amazement, Macbeth opened his eyes. “Okay,” he said. “I was faking it.” He winked at me. Good grief. “Got a lot of muscle to hide a bullet in. Maria?”

Luke ran over to her. “Alive,” he said, “but only just. She needs medical help. Urgently.”

I somehow pulled myself to my feet. If I thought about Maria lying there dying, my leg didn’t hurt so much. “I’ll go,” I said. “I have my car. The Princess Alexandra isn’t too far.”

Harvey tilted my face up. “Is that your blood?”

“I—I don’t think so. I think it’s hers.” We both looked down at Alexa, still and bloody. She looked small and vulnerable, innocent, maybe. But I was shaking with anger at what she’d done. Or maybe I was in shock.

“She confessed everything,” Macbeth said, hauling himself to his feet. “Sophie was wicked.”

I’m afraid I blushed.

“Can you drive?” Luke asked, picking up Maria and starting back towards the car park. I limped after him, Macbeth following. Harvey stayed with the bodies. Oh Christ, the bodies. This was so surreal.

“I think so.”

“I need a definite.”

“Yes.” I opened up the back of the car, and he placed Maria on the floor between the seats. Macbeth climbed in after her, and I went round to the cab.

“Are you sure you can drive?” Luke asked me as I started the engine, and I nodded tiredly.

“I’m sure. I have a licence and all.”

He nodded. “Drive safe.”

I have never driven safely and I’m certainly not about to start now. “Luke, are you mad at me?”

He stared. “Why would I be mad?”

“I did a lot of things I shouldn’t.”

“You got the bad guy. Guys. Girl.” He touched the blood on my face. “I’m proud of you.”

I managed a smile. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He pulled me towards him and kissed me, and everything stopped hurting.

“Mmm,” I sighed. “Do that again.”

“No time. You have to go. I have to get these bodies off the school premises.”

I nodded reluctantly. “There’s a phrase I never want to hear again.” I shut the door. “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye.”

I drove away, and he stood there watching me until I turned the corner out of sight.

The drive up to the hospital was horrible. Horrible. Every gear change was agony, and there are a lot of roundabouts on the way there. I took most of them in the wrong gear because it hurt too much to dip the clutch. Defenders have really hard clutches. Macbeth, sitting behind me, was breathing very shallowly, and when I chanced a look back at him I saw that he was pressing his hand tight against his stomach.

“I thought it just hit muscle,” I said.

“Yeah,” he breathed, “muscle bleeds.”

“I’m going as fast as I can.”

“Not me I’m worried about.” He glanced at Maria, who he’d pulled onto the seat beside him, her head in his lap. She was bleeding all over.

I was really glad I had vinyl seats.

I pulled up on front of the hospital, the car slewed across double yellows. It wasn’t an ambulance bay so I didn’t care. I locked my door, put my warrant card between my teeth and picked Maria up in my arms. She was heavy, but I didn’t see any alternative. I was too tired and too hurt to really think about it.

“Lock the door,” I said to Macbeth. “If someone nicks my car, I’ll be really pissed off.”

He could hardly stand. He was covered in blood. He put the keys back in my bag over my shoulder and had to lean on me as we stumbled through the doors, looking horribly out of place in the bright, clean, warm A&E reception.

Everyone turned and stared at us, and for a few seconds, I was too tired to speak. Then I opened my mouth and started yelling for help.

It was still dark when I got home, driven by a nurse so kindly I nearly cried when she offered me a lift. People had rushed to help Maria and Macbeth, and by extension, me, taking out the splinters of wood from my leg and replacing them with stitches. They put stitches in my head as well, a new cut on my forehead that looked like it might have been made by a bullet whistling by. I hadn’t even really realised I’d been hit. They dosed me up with new painkillers and sent me home, and I took one look at my bed and fell in, fully clothed.

I woke up several hours later, just as the sky was starting to get light, with the definite feeling that there was someone in my room. I grabbed Macbeth’s gun from my night stand and aimed it groggily.

“If you shoot me,” came a lovely warm, dry voice, “then I won’t be able to give you your reward.”

I blinked at Luke. He was standing in the doorway, looking dirty and bloody and exhausted and irresistible.

“Reward?” I croaked.

He came in and sat on the bed as I put the gun away. “I spoke to the hospital. Macbeth’s okay. Maria’s in a bad state, but she’s going to be fine.”

I slumped against the pillows. “Really fine?”

He nodded. “Really fine. How are you feeling?”

“I’m—” Luke’s fingers touched the dressing on my forehead, and my voice started to squeak, “I’m okay.”

“That was some takedown.”

“Did you…” I didn’t know how to put this. “Did you get rid of the bodies?”

Luke laughed. “We don't dump them in landfills, Sophie. We took them to the morgue. Both of them.”

“There were—”

“Wright and Sven. Both dead. Alexa,” he twirled a lock of my slightly bloody hair, “less so.”

“But—”

“Unconscious and bleeding profusely, but not dead. Able to make a full confession. Currently under armed police guard in, ironically, the same wing as Macbeth.”

“That is ironic.” I took a deep breath. There was something that had been bugging me. “Luke, am I in trouble?”

He looked surprised. “You saved the day, Soph. Why would you be in trouble?”

“I killed Sven with what I’m pretty sure is an unlicensed firearm, I may have shot Alexa and I got two SO17 agents severely injured.”

Luke shrugged. “I repeat, why would you be in trouble? The good guys are alive. The bad guys got caught. Everything else can be fixed. And Sven, by the way, was really a Steven. And as for licensing…”

He reached out and picked up the gun, looking at it. “This is illegal in a whole lot of ways.” He bit his lip. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

“Oh, God, I am in trouble.”

“Well, you could be. I never told you this, but your stun gun is illegal.”

I couldn’t tell him I already knew that. Could I?

“Then why’d you let me have it?”

“Hell, Sophie, I couldn’t leave you entirely unprotected.”

“Have you ever heard the one about getting hung for a sheep or a lamb?” I asked him, and he grinned.

“I have. And,” he reached inside his jacket for something, “I’ve decided to go for the sheep.”

He handed me a shiny, perfect little gun. I held it like a newborn and stared in rapture.

“You got me a gun?”

“You want to know what I was doing while you were leaving hysterical voice mails on my mobile? I was speaking to my good friend Mike at the firearms licensing department and asking why your application hadn’t come through. He said it had been cancelled. By one Alexa Martin.”

I gaped. Alexa had tried to stop me getting a gun?

Luke had tried to get me one?

I had one?

“So I told him that was bollocks and you would be sending in your signature very shortly. And then I got a housecall from your friend Harvey—did you know he was CIA?” I nodded. “Thanks for sharing. He said you had a gun and were in trouble. I figured, must be a Tuesday.”

“Did you shoot Alexa?”

“Everybody shot Alexa. She’s like a bad tempered colander. She’ll be locked away for a very,” he brushed the hair from my face, “very long time.”

I hefted the gun in my hands. “That reward you mentioned,” I said. “For saving the day?” He nodded. “Is this it?”

“No.” Luke took the gun away from me and lifted my chin. “This is.”

And then he kissed me. And then he pulled back the covers and took off my sweater. And then he…

Mmm. I could get used to this reward system.