The Solitary Man (50 page)

Winter looked around the compound. Every building had either been destroyed or was burning and the air was thick with choking smoke. 'Which way?' he said.

'Over there,' said Hutch, putting his arm around Winter, allowing him to take the weight off his injured limb.

ZHOU THREW THE LAUNCHER to the ground. His hands were shaking. He'd lost sight of the missile almost as soon as he'd fired it and he'd been amazed to see the helicopter burst into flames followed several seconds later by the sound of the explosion. Zhou was exhilarated. He'd done it. He'd actually done it. He'd shot down a helicopter. His heart pounded and he was breathing in short, ragged gasps. It had been so simple, just like the Ukrainian had said. Arm, aim and fire. It had been the first time Zhou had actually fired a Grail missile, and he'd brought down a helicopter. He looked around, wanting to share the excitement with someone, but he was alone.

Panic-stricken soldiers were running down the hillside away from the compound. The armoury was ablaze and there were periodic explosions as the grenades and ammunition exploded. There wasn't a single building still standing. The destruction had been absolute as if the attackers had been determined to raze the compound to the ground.

Zhou peered into the darkness. The dark shape that was the second helicopter was growing larger. It was heading his way. Zhou scrambled over the grass on his hands and knees towards the remaining metal cases. He grabbed the nearest and fumbled with the catches.

'BLOODY HELL, LOOK AT that,' said Winter. 'Look at the size of it.' The helicopter was huge, a black beetle-like monster that sped towards them, its nose down. Winter had stopped in his tracks and was staring at it, his mouth open in amazement.

'Billy, get down,' said Hutch, and shoulder-charged Winter out of the way. The two men crashed to the ground. Winter grabbed at his injured leg, gritting his teeth in pain. Hutch saw a section of the corrugated iron that had once been the roof of Zhou's building. He wasn't sure how much protection it would offer but he pulled it over them none the less.

WARNER COULD SEE THE men on the ground through the night vision sensor as clearly as if it was daylight. He smiled. The 30mm rounds would go through the sheet of metal as if it was tinfoil. But he wasn't interested in them, he wanted the man with the rocket launcher. The man who'd killed his friends. He scanned the area, then saw him, bending over something. Warner centred the man in his sights as Austin put the helicopter into a steep dive. Warner adjusted his aim accordingly. The man lifted something up and put it on his shoulder. Warner swallowed. It was a rocket launcher.

There were twelve hundred rounds of ammunition under the rotor gearbox, as close to the Apache's centre of gravity as possible so that firing the massive gun wouldn't disrupt its trim. Warner had enough firepower to keep the massive gun pouring out bullets for a full two minutes but he fired only a short burst, his eyes glued to the VDU display. He felt the Apache shake as Austin let go an infra-red cartridge as a precautionary measure.

ZHOU SLIPPED HIS FINGER over the trigger of the Grail launcher and squinted through the sight. The helicopter had | gone. He swung the launcher around, frantically trying to locate it. Nothing. Just stars and clouds.

Suddenly he heard a whirring, roaring noise and a black shape swooped towards him, so low that it seemed to be flying through the flames. Zhou put the launcher back on his shoulder. He heard screeching sounds above his head and something ripped through his chest, tearing and shredding like a million machetes. He fell Ibackwards, his mouth filling with blood, the launcher falling from his lifeless hands.

THE HELICOPTER ROARED OVERHEAD, its gun clattering loudly. Hutch pushed the corrugated iron away and helped Winter to his feet.

'Who the hell are they?' asked Winter.

'DEA,' said Hutch.

'The DEA have helicopter gunships?'

'Looks like it.' He supported Winter around the waist and they ran towards the entrance like contestants in a three-legged race. Behind them the helicopter went into a noisy hover, its rotor wash kicking up dust and debris.

Something whacked the back of Hutch's leg and he stumbled, his gun flying from his grasp. Both men fell to the ground. Winter screamed in pain. Hutch examined the back of his own leg. There was a small black hole in his jeans and the material was stained with blood. The leg was numb, but as he peeled away the denim the pain hit him, lancing into his flesh like a hot iron. He'd been shot.

He looked up. A figure was striding towards him, cradling an AK-47. It was Bird, his face contorted with rage.

'You!' screamed Bird. 'You did this!'

'GOT HIM,' SAID WARNER, unable to keep the elation out of his voice. Generally he was like ice in combat, cold and hard, his emotions suppressed as he got on with his job, but the man with the missile launcher had killed two of his friends and Warner's adrenal glands had gone into overdrive.

'Nice shooting,' said Austin, putting the Apache into a climb that made Warner's stomach turn over. The helicopter banked to the left. Below, Warner could see the compound ablaze. There wasn't a single building untouched by the flames.

A group of half a dozen soldiers in camouflage uniforms fired THE SOLITARY MAN 419 assault rifles at the Apache, but the bullets had no effect on the armoured underside.

Another group of uniformed men raced out of the compound. One of them was on fire, and was slapping his burning shirt as he ran. He stumbled and fell, the flames engulfing his face, and then the helicopter banked to the right and Warner couldn't see him any more. Warner bit down on his lip, hard, and closed his eyes. He wondered how long it had taken Peter and Bart to die.

'One more pass and then we're out of here,' said Austin, putting the helicopter into a steep turn.

'DON'T,' SAID WINTER. 'DON'T kill him.'

Bird gestured with the barrel of the AK-47 at the carnage around him. 'Look what he did, Billy. He brought the helicopters.'

Winter tried to stand up but the pain in his leg was too much and he fell back.

'Don't beg, Billy,' said Hutch. 'Don't beg for me.' He got to his feet. If he was going to die, he didn't want to die lying on the ground. He looked around for the gun that Carver had given him. It was lying next to the sheet of corrugated iron, well out of reach.

Bird put the stock of the AK-47 against his shoulder and took aim at Hutch's chest. Hutch stared coldly at Bird. He realised with a terrible certainty that he wasn't scared.

Bird's finger tightened on the trigger.

'Bird, no!' screamed Winter.

The helicopter seemed to come from nowhere, swooping down like a massive bird of prey, its gun rattling. Bird's upper body jerked as if he'd been electrocuted and blood spurted fr�m a dozen wounds. He remained standing for a full second, fell backwards, the AK-47 still at his shoulder.

AUSTIN PULLED BACK ON the cyclic and the Apache climbed above the smoke. 'We're going home,' he said into his radio mike. 'There's nothing more to do here.'

Warner nodded but didn't say anything.

'Roger, you okay?'

Warner nodded again, but still didn't reply. His finger was still pressing the chain gun trigger, but all the ammunition had been expended.

'CAN YOU SEE HIM?' asked Chauling.

'No,' said Carver.

Chau-ling leaned against a tree and slid to the ground. 'He's dead, isn't he?'

Carver said nothing. A section of the bamboo fence fell to the ground in a shower of sparks. There was a rattle of small explosions from inside the compound, the sound of ammunition detonating. Every building was ablaze and even from their hiding place in the jungle Carver could feel the heat of the flames. No one had emerged from the inferno for at least ten minutes, not since the helicopter had flown away. He couldn't imagine that anyone could be inside and still be alive. His legs began to shake and he fought to keep them steady.

Something moved inside the compound, just inside the entrance. A figure, staggering from side to side as it dodged burning debris. No, two figures. Two men.

'I see them,' said Carver.

IT WAS AN AWKWARD bounce and the boy did well to get the ball under control. He feinted to the right, tapped the ball to the left, and sent a defender completely the wrong way.

'He's good, isn't he?' asked Chauling.

The boy splashed through a muddy puddle. The goalkeeper was screaming at his defenders to get back.

Hutch nodded. The boy looked around but he was on his own; he'd run so quickly that he'd left the rest of his teammates behind. A small group of teenagers in raincoats and long scarves were jumping up and down along the sideline shouting for him to shoot. 'He's really good,' agreed Hutch.

She slipped her arm through his and shivered. 'Did you use to play?'

A defender almost a head taller than the boy rushed for the ball and slid into a fast low tackle, but the boy easily evaded the attack. The spectators began to scream with excitement.

'No,' said Hutch. 'I was never really good at team games.'

She pressed herself against him. She was wrapped up against the cold in a black cashmere overcoat, warm leather boots, a red scarf that she'd wound around her neck several times, and bright red earmuffs.

On the pitch the boy slammed the ball into the net. The goalkeeper dropped to his knees as if seeking absolution, while the small boy was engulfed by his teammates. The referee, a portly, balding schoolmaster with pink cheeks, blew hard on his whistle and picked up the mud-stained ball.

'Maybe some time in the future . . .' she said.

'Maybe,' he echoed, unenthusiastically. He exhaled and his breath immediately fogged in the cold spring air.

She tightened her grip on his arm. 'No,' she said. 'I mean it. When he's old enough to understand. You can tell him what happened, you can tell him why you had to go away.'

'He thinks I'm dead,' said Hutch despondently. 'It might be better if it stays that way.'

'Don't be stupid,' she said tersely. 'You're his father. Of course he'd want to know.'

The schoolboys ran back down the pitch to restart the match.

'Maybe,' said Hutch, this time with a little more conviction. 'His mother would go ballistic, though.'

'She needn't know,' said Chau-ling. 'When he's an adult, it'd be between you and him.'

The referee blew his whistle again and the ball was kicked sky high with a loud thud.

'He's a good-looking boy,' said Chau-ling, resting her head against his shoulder.

Hutch put his arm around her. 'Thanks,' he said.

She looked up at him quizzically. 'For what?'

'For suggesting that we come here.' He gave her a small squeeze. 'For making me come here.'

'It had been a long time since you'd seen him,' she said, watching the schoolboys' frantic efforts to get possession of the ball. 'I thought it was important.'

Hutch shivered. 'We should go,' he said.

They turned away from the football pitch and walked across the grass to the waiting Mercedes. A driver wearing a peaked cap waited patiently at the wheel with the engine running.

'Aren't you going to miss Hong Kong?' he asked.

She shrugged inside the overcoat. 'It's not the same as it used to be,' she said. 'And I can always visit.'

The driver rushed out of the car and opened the door for them. Chau-ling slid in first. Hutch followed her and the driver closed the door behind him.

'How was the game?' asked Tim Carver.

'Enthusiastic,' said Hutch.

'Your boy's okay?'

'He's fine.' Hutch settled back in the plush leather seat and ran his hands through his hair. The driver put the Mercedes in gear and drove off smoothly. It was hot in the car and Hutch took off his gloves and unbuttoned his coat.

Carver reached inside his jacket and took out two blue passports. He gave one to Hutch and one to Chau-ling. Chau-ling put hers in her coat pocket without looking at it, but Hutch opened his. It was THE SOLITARY MAN 423 his photograph, but a different name. Another change of identity. Hopefully this would be his last.

'We've arranged an apartment for you in Fort Lauderdale,' he said.

'At least it'll be warm,' said Hutch.

'There's a bank account with half a million dollars in it, and I'll be pressing for more,' said Carver. 'After the way they treated you, I don't think the DEA is going to object.'

Chau-ling sniffed huffily. 'Money isn't going to be a problem,' she said, looking out of the window.

Hutch reached across and held her hand. They drove away from the school in silence.

THE RED ROLLS-ROYCE CORNICHE glinted in the afternoon sun as it purred down the mountain road. Billy Winter took his cigar out of his mouth and jabbed it at the sea off to his right. 'Girls, it don't get much better than this, do it?'

The girls giggled appreciatively. The one in the front seat was a short, chunky blonde with close-cropped hair and a perpetual pout. She was wearing a low-cut top that showed off an indecent amount of tanned cleavage and she stroked the back of Winter's neck as he drove.

The girl sprawled across the back seat was a redhead, eighteen years old with long legs and a skirt that was little more than a bandage around her waist. 'It's a dream, Billy,' she said, raising her arms in the air. She stretched like a sleepy cat and purred with pleasure.

Winter grinned. Life couldn't be sweeter. A new country, a new life, a Corniche with the top down and two teenage girls who did it for love - almost. He took a long pull on the cigar and exhaled through his teeth. The smoke was whipped away in the wind. Winter looked out over the sea. 'What about a boat, girls?' he said cheerfully. 'What would you say to a bit of a cruise?'

'Lovely, Billy,' said the blonde.

Winter clamped the cigar between his teeth and reached over 424 STEPHEN LEATHER to caress her thigh. He stroked the soft skin, then slipped a finger inside her shorts. The girl leaned back and opened her legs invitingly. Winter's grin widened.

The siren jolted him out of his reverie and he jerked his hand back. He looked in his driving mirror. The motorcycle policeman behind him pointed to the side of the road with a gloved hand. 'Now what?' muttered Winter. He didn't think he'd been speeding, but then he didn't know what the speed limit was anyway. He braked and brought the Rolls to a gentle halt.