Urban Assassin (12 page)

Deacon gave a cry of pain and crumpled to the roof. Mitch had struck home. He hopped as fast as he could to where Deacon lay, his ankle sending
waves of pain through him with every movement.

Deacon rolled and pulled the knife from his leg, then held it pointed towards Mitch as he reached him.

‘Give it up, Deacon,’ urged Mitch. ‘The rest of your squad is gone. It’s over.’

‘Not for me,’ groaned Deacon through gritted teeth. ‘There’s always a new identity. I can start again.’

He struggled to get to his knees, holding the knife firmly in Mitch’s direction. Mitch hesitated. With his ankle fractured he couldn’t run at Deacon. If only he had something he could use as a weapon,
anything
. But the only thing he had was himself.

He hopped painfully nearer, his eyes on the knife. Deacon crawled backwards.

‘Look at us, Mitch.’ Deacon chuckled painfully. ‘We’ve only got two good legs between us. We’re in a bad way.’

‘I’m not letting you get away,’ said Mitch firmly.

Deacon shook his head. ‘You don’t have a choice, Mitch,’ he said.

Suddenly he threw the knife at Mitch and rolled towards the nearest edge of the roof. The knife flew past Mitch’s head as he hurled himself at Deacon, pain searing through him from his ankle. He managed to grab hold of one of Deacon’s legs, his fingers clutching at the material. Deacon struggled and kicked out, trying to loosen Mitch’s hold. Mitch held on grimly, but Deacon was still able to drag himself ever nearer the edge, pulling Mitch along behind him. Using all his strength, Mitch hauled himself hand over hand up Deacon’s leg to his body. Deacon struck out, his fists hitting Mitch on the head and in the face, while at the same time he continued to push with his good leg, right to the very edge of the building.

With a last heave Mitch managed to get a hold on Deacon’s neck. Now both men were right on the edge. Mitch saw the street below, and a window ledge about four metres below the edge of the roof. It was impossible to think that Deacon would even try such a drop – but then Mitch realised
Deacon was a truly desperate man. He was fighting for his life.

A sudden punch to his face from Deacon brought tears to Mitch’s eyes, temporarily blinding him, but he clung on grimly. He felt a shift and as his eyes cleared he realised they were balanced precariously, their heads right out over the drop of over fifty metres to the street below. Then suddenly, with a jerky movement from Deacon, they rolled off the edge of the roof, into the void!

As they fell, Mitch yelled in agony from the pain in his fractured ankle. He just had time to let go of Deacon with one hand and grab hold of the window ledge. He smashed into the wall below, but his left hand still clutched Deacon’s clothing.

The two men dangled, the cars and people in the street far below them looking to Mitch like small toys.

I can’t hold him, thought Mitch. He’s too heavy.

Deacon’s weight felt like it was tearing his arm
out of its socket, especially with the way he was struggling.

‘Mitchell!’ yelled Deacon. He stopped struggling and looked up into the eyes of the soldier who had his life in his grasp. He looked calm. ‘You’re right, Mitch,’ he said. ‘It’s over.’

And then he began to slowly undo the clips of his body armour.

‘Oh no you don’t!’ roared Mitch, but he could feel the weight on his arm beginning to shift.

Suddenly the figure of Tug dropped past Mitch on a rope. His fist smashed into Deacon’s face, and the assassin went limp. Tug clamped his arms around Deacon and shouted, ‘Gotcha.’

Mitch lay on the roof, recovering his breath. The unconscious body of Deacon lay nearby. Mitch sat up and looked at Tug, coiling the length of rope.

‘You made that jump without breaking a leg?’ Mitch asked them, gesturing at the drop and the gap between the two roofs.

‘Of course,’ said Tug.

‘How’s Gaz?’ asked Mitch.

‘He’s OK. The medicos are on their way to deal with him. And with you.’ He watched Mitch wince in pain. ‘Broken ankle?’ he asked.

‘I think so,’ nodded Mitch. ‘How are the others?’

‘Everyone’s fine,’ said Tug. ‘Most of the attackers are dead.’

‘Koman?’ asked Mitch.

‘One broken leg, the other just torn up,’ the Captain replied.

Mitch heard a loud whirring noise approaching. Looking up he saw lights in the sky.

‘Helicopter,’ said Tug. ‘Gerald must have called in the reinforcements. Bit late if you ask me. But at least they’ll be able to get you to another hospital.’

‘What’s wrong with the hospital we were in?’ asked Mitch.

Tug looked uncomfortable. ‘The place got shot up quite a bit,’ he said. ‘They say it’s going to need some repairs before it’s up and running again. Ceilings shot down. Bullet holes in the walls. Power generator blown up.’ He grinned. ‘Still, nothing major.’

Mitch watched the helicopter coming down towards the roof of the hospital, and then disappear from his view as it landed to pick up Gaz. In a few moments it would be collecting
him and taking him to safety. The operation was over. The prime minister was safe.

Job done.

Mitch and Two Moons sat in the security room in the basement of the conference centre, watching the TV screens. As well as the constantly changing images from the CCTV cameras around the building, there was a screen displaying a news channel. It was showing the gathering inside the main hall in the conference centre. The British prime minister was at the podium, addressing the presidents, prime ministers and other heads of state assembled. The picture was on mute.

‘You wanna hear what he’s saying?’ asked Two Moons, reaching for the remote control.

‘Not particularly,’ said Mitch, shaking his head. ‘I can tell you what it will be. The fight against terrorism, the union of world leaders against
international crime, that sort of thing.’

Two Moons pressed the button, and the sound came on.

‘This treaty will make the world safer in the fight against terrorism. No more will international gangsters and criminals be able to use the border of one country to escape justice in another.’

Two Moons pressed the ‘mute’ button again.

‘Guess you’re right,’ said Two Moons with a sigh. ‘You sure you didn’t write that speech for him?’

The camera travelled away from the prime minister along the platform, showing some of the other dignitaries assembled at the conference. Then it moved to the side of the stage, where Nelson, Tug and Benny stood. They were dressed in neat civilian suits, white shirts and ties, but there was no mistaking the fact that they were there as security.

It was in their alert manner, the earpieces they wore, and the unmistakeable outline of a gun underneath their jackets.

‘How come they get that job?’ asked Two Moons.

‘Apparently, the prime minister was so impressed with the job we did at the hospital, he insisted on Delta Unit protecting him for this conference.’

‘So how come we ain’t up there as well?’ scowled Two Moons.

Mitch grinned and pointed to the plaster cast on his ankle, and the walking stick propped up beside Two Moons’ chair.

Two Moons shook his head.

‘You may be an invalid,’ he said, ‘I ain’t.’

‘Then why did the hospital issue you with a stick?’ asked Mitch.

‘Some stupid regulation,’ grunted Two Moons. ‘I can walk perfectly well without it.’

To prove his point he stood up and began to walk around the room. Just then the door opened and the rest of Delta Unit came in, including Gaz, complete with one arm in a sling. Two Moons swung round and looked at the TV screen, where the soldiers were still apparently standing on duty.

‘I thought those pictures were live!’ he said accusingly.

‘Recording,’ said Tug. ‘The session ended five minutes ago and we’ve been released from duty.’

‘So we thought we’d come down here and see how the invalids were,’ said Benny.

‘I was just telling Mitch, I ain’t no invalid,’ complained Two Moons.

‘You are until the medicos give you the all clear,’ said Nelson. ‘And that’s an order.’ He strode towards the vending machine in the corner of the room. ‘Any of you guys care for a cup of coffee?’

There were murmurs of assent from the others.

‘So, it’s all over,’ smiled Gaz. ‘The treaty’s signed. Case closed.’

‘Any news on Deacon?’ asked Mitch.

Nelson frowned. ‘It seems the authorities don’t want him to come to trial,’ he said. ‘He knows too many secrets they don’t want to come out in court.’

‘So what are they going to do with him?’ asked Mitch.

‘A secure mental hospital,’ said Nelson. ‘Indefinitely.’

‘It’s the best place for him,’ said Gaz.

‘In Texas he’d be on Death Row,’ grunted Benny. ‘And it’d serve him right!’

Two Moons shook his head. ‘I know he was wrong, and I’m sure as hell glad we did what we did, but I still can’t believe that it’s the same man who saved my life in that jungle.’

‘The main thing is: we did our job,’ said Nelson. ‘The treaty’s signed, the prime minister’s alive, and so are we.’

‘Damn, we’re good!’ grinned Two Moons. ‘There ain’t no other outfit as good as us!’

‘We’re the best!’ agreed Gaz with a smile.

Mitch pushed himself up out of his chair and raised his coffee cup. ‘Gentlemen, I give you a toast!’ he said. ‘To Delta Unit. The best there is!’

The others lifted their cups in the air in a toast.

‘To Delta Unit!’