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London Belongs to the Alchemist (Class Heroes Book 4) Page 32
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At exactly three o’clock a black people carrier drove smoothly into the hangar and pulled up about ten metres in front of them, close to the plane.
Nicky was practically hopping from foot to foot. He tapped on the window next to Sam and indicated for them to get out.
“If things get nasty,” he whispered to Sam, “I need you to promise me that you’ll grab my daughters and get them out of here.”
“But—” began Sam.
“Just promise me. Get hold of them, and get them away to safety.”
Nicky handed Sam a piece of paper. She looked at it. He had written the address of a house in St John’s Wood.
“A deal’s a deal,” he said. “MI5 safe house. Now, you promise me to look after my kids. Please,” he implored.
“I promise,” said Sam.
Satisfied, Nicky turned back to the people carrier. A man got out of the driver’s side. To Sam he seemed like a giant. Taller than Nicky, with muscles twice the size. He had dark, shoulder-length hair, streaked with grey, and a goatee beard. He wore a sharp, shiny grey suit and a black shirt.
“That’s Mr Smith,” Nicky muttered under his breath. “Mr Jones must be in the car.”
Mr Smith strolled towards them.
“You look terrible, Nicky,” he said, jovially. “And I see you’ve managed to find some replacement children.” He indicated Sam and Al. “Very cute. Are you sure you still need your own?”
Nicky ignored the jibe. He clenched and unclenched his fists, obviously itching for the opportunity to get hold of the Russian.
Sam’s jaw ached with tension. She had no doubt that Nicky would beat the man to death, but despite what Mr Smith had done, she could not allow that.
Nicky tapped the suitcase.
“Two million at least in cocaine in there,” he declared. “It’s genuine, you have my word.”
“I believe you. I’m sure it is very special,” said Mr Smith, mysteriously.
“Good,” said Nicky, with less certainty. “Now release my family.”
Mr Smith approached the case and looked inside. He seemed satisfied, and went to close the lid. Nicky grabbed the top of the case. Mr Smith eyeballed him.
“Do not think of doing anything stupid, Nicky.”
“You’re not taking this case anywhere, my friend. I want to see my girls.”
Mr Smith turned around and beckoned at the car. The back door opened and a stunningly attractive but obviously terrified blonde woman stepped out. She helped two little girls out of their seats, both of whom were sobbing quietly.
“Daddy,” shouted one, escaping her mother’s hand and running towards Nicky. Mr Smith intercepted the child and lifted her into his arms.
“Don’t you touch her,” warned Nicky, but he stood his ground. He was wary, and Sam quickly realized why. There was no sign of the Russian’s comrade, Mr Jones. The car door was still open and the vehicle was empty.
“We had a deal,” insisted Nicky, his body trembling.
“Yes, we did,” replied Mr Smith. “But you haven’t been totally honest with us, have you Nicky?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you have been keeping secrets and as a result the price has gone up,” mocked Mr Smith.
“Now wait a minute—” exploded Nicky. Mr Smith raised the little girl above his head in a warning gesture. The girl began screaming.
“Ok, ok,” said Nicky, hurriedly, putting a placating hand out towards Mr Smith. “Trina, honey. It’s ok. It’s ok. Daddy’s here.”
Nicky’s wife kept hold of the other daughter. Neither made a sound.
“Just tell me what you want,” said Nicky.
Mr Smith lowered the child to the ground. She ran back to her mother. He walked around the car, past Nicky, and stopped in front of Al.
“What you lookin’ at, man?” asked Al.
“What indeed?” sighed Mr Smith. “A miracle, perhaps, if what Mr Jones tells me is true.”
He’s seen it, thought Sam. Mr Jones saw Al perform his ‘alchemy’. Which means Mr Jones is hidden somewhere in this building.
She looked around, studying the gantry that ran along three walls of the hangar. And there he was, high and to the right of the large open doors. There was a ladder that gave access to the gantry from the ground. Close to the ladder was a stack of wooden crates, and behind those crates, Sam could just about see a man’s head. The light was behind him and he was easily missed. The barrel of a rifle or some other sort of big gun protruded through the crates.
“Up there.” Sam pointed.
Nicky and Al saw him too. Nicky took a sharp intake of breath when he spotted the rifle.
“What you can do is incredible,” marvelled Mr Smith, to Al. “What is the secret?”
“Not being such a tool. You should try it sometime,” replied Al.
Mr Smith laughed.
“We saw your videos. Very entertaining. Mr Cairo’s car, that was my favourite. I even downloaded it to my phone. At first I did not believe it was real. But clearly it is.”
Mr Smith turned to face Sam. Up close she could smell his pungent aftershave. She felt dwarfed by his sheer size, and she flinched when he started touching her hair. Uuuuugh. It was so creepy.
“And what is it you do, my dear? I think there might be something special about you, too, otherwise Mr Cairo would not have brought you.”
Sam didn’t answer, she just moved her head aside to get the horrible man’s hand away from her hair.
Mr Smith addressed Nicky again.
“I’ll give you your wife and you can keep the cocaine, as a gesture of goodwill,” he said, unexpectedly, all smiles.
Nicky’s eyes widened. He obviously suspected that there would be a catch, but his desperation to get his family back was all too evident. Mr Smith had him over a barrel.
“But I’ll swap you,” said the Russian. “Your two children, for these two children.”
Sam flinched again as he placed his hands on her shoulders.
“A fair exchange, I think,” said Mr Smith. “Do we have a deal?”
Chapter 54
Sam opened her mouth to speak. Nothing came out but a croak.
Nicky Cairo looked at her, almost apologetically.
“Think about it, Nicky,” urged Mr Smith. “You have enough cocaine to rebuild your empire and you’ll have your family back. You’re two million pounds better off than when you came into this deal. What do you say?”
“I… I…” uttered Nicky, uncertainly, his eyes switching between Al and his daughters. Clearly he was counting up everything he had to lose. “It’s a deal,” he said, finally.
Nicky’s wife and children ran to Nicky. He put his arms around all of them and kept telling them over and over that they were safe.
Al laughed.
“I ain’t going anywhere with no one,” he insisted.
“You will. Otherwise your girlfriend will die,” explained Mr Smith, patiently. “Then we’ll find your family, and your friends, and your school, and we will kill everybody that you know until you do as we tell you, is that quite clear?”
Al wasn’t laughing anymore.
“Where you taking us?” he asked, instead.
“To Russia. We have transport arranged.” Mr Smith turned to Sam. “Are you going to protest, or do I need to make up threats for you, too?”
“I was just wondering how cold it is in Russia,” replied Sam, indicating her thin pyjamas and bare feet.
Mr Smith looked surprised for the first time. He smiled.
“If you are as special as the boy, my dear, you can have anything you want,” he said, ardently. “Anything. My organization will look after you both, very well. I promise you that.”
“Do you have cookie dough ice cream in Russia?” she asked.
Looking mildly puzzled, Mr Smith buttoned up his suit and adjusted his tie in a gesture that indicated business was concluded.
“Come with me,” he said to Sam and Al, and starte
d walking back to the people carrier. Al looked at Sam and she nodded. Together they followed Mr Smith.
“Where are we going now?” she asked him.
“What normally happens at an airport?” he replied, gesturing to the open door of the people carrier so she and Al could get inside. “There is a jet waiting for us on the runway.”
And instantly, Sam’s heart started pounding. She stayed still. They were going to leave right now? What about James, Mum and Dad? She simply couldn’t go with the Russian.
And what was going to happen to Nicky’s family? She had made Nicky a promise, and no matter how vile and evil he might be, she couldn’t see his wife and the poor children hurt.
She looked back at them. Nicky had his arms around all three in a gesture of protection. He had the gun in his pocket, but he dared not use it for fear of his family being hurt.
Up on the gantry, Mr Jones was still covering them with his big gun.
“Inside, please,” insisted Mr Smith, and ushered Sam into the vehicle. She slid across the seat. Al followed so he was sitting beside her. Mr Smith got into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
“Isn’t Mr Jones coming, too?” asked Sam, as Mr Smith drove slowly forward and completed a neat turn so that the vehicle was facing towards the hangar doors.
“He’ll be with us momentarily,” purred Mr Smith.
And then Sam had a flash of realization. No way would Mr Jones be able to get down from the gantry, carrying the gun, and get to the jet. Nicky Cairo would shoot him as soon as he broke cover. Which meant that Mr Jones was going to kill Nicky and his family first.
Most likely Mr Jones was waiting for Mr Smith to drive her and Al out of the way so they didn’t witness the event and get upset. Her face flushed with anger as she thought about the poor little girls being gunned down. No. That wasn’t going to happen.
She saw it all in her mind’s eye, how to get to Mr Jones before he could fire a shot.
She kept her eyes on Mr Smith’s eyes in the rear-view mirror and felt for the door handle. As the vehicle drew level with the gantry, and just before they left the hangar, Sam pushed her arm and right leg against the car door and broke it clean off its hinges.
Al yelled out in surprise, but Sam barely heard him as she threw herself out onto the dirty floor, rolled over, picked herself up and shoulder-charged the support strut for the gantry. The metal cracked, support screws were wrenched out of their sockets and the gantry dropped sharply by nearly a metre. Sam heard shouting. That should put Mr Jones off balance, she reckoned. The people carrier lurched to a halt with a short, sharp squeal of tyres.
Sam put her arms around the strut, and this time she pulled it against her body. The remaining screws and bolts snapped and the metal girder toppled towards her. She quickly realized that unless she moved, the entire gantry would fall on her head.
She threw herself out of the way just in time. The screech of rending metal was eclipsed by a deafening crash as the girders and metal plates hit the tarmac.
Sam looked up to see Mr Jones sliding and tumbling down the gantry and landing in a crumpled heap at the back of the people carrier. The large rifle clattered to the ground close by.
By this time, Mr Smith was out of the car and had drawn his gun. On instinct, Sam directed a burst of flame in his direction. It went straight over the prone form of Mr Jones, and Mr Smith hastily scrambled for cover behind the car.
In a blur of movement, Nicky Cairo sped past her, gun in one hand, making a noise like some kind of primitive tribal attack cry. He fired repeatedly at the defenceless Mr Jones, who was still lying on the floor.
As Sam picked herself up, she watched in horror as Nicky skidded to a halt in front of the obviously dead man and blasted bullet after bullet into the lifeless body until the chamber clicked empty.
Next, Al got out of the people carrier. His face looked ashen as he was confronted with the bloody mess that had once been Mr Jones.
Mr Smith, however, barely flinched at the death of his comrade. He raised his pistol at Nicky Cairo, at which point Sam threw another flame burst in the Russian’s direction.
While Mr Smith took cover, Sam dragged Nicky back towards the car that they had hijacked, behind which his family were cowering. Mr Smith fired several times and the bullets smashed into the side of the car. Then the firing stopped.
When Sam looked back, she saw why. Al had launched himself at Mr Smith. He knocked the pistol from the big man’s grasp, then head-butted him in the face. Mr Smith dropped to the ground, crawling away in pain, stunned no doubt by the force of Al’s superpowered attack.
“Yesss,” cheered Sam, but too soon. Al’s next step was a faltering one and he unexpectedly clutched his chest, his face contorted with pain, and dropped to his haunches.
Mr Smith recovered quickly. He crawled over to where his dead colleague’s rifle lay, picked it up, staggered to his feet and backed away to where Al was rocking in agony.
“What the hell’s wrong with him?” Nicky asked, putting more ammunition into his pistol.
“Nicky, what’s happening?” asked his wife. He shushed her, impatiently.
“I think Al’s having a heart attack,” gabbled Sam, getting up. She had to get over there to help him. Nicky grabbed hold of her hoodie and pulled her back behind the car, just as Mr Smith fired a short salvo from the rifle. Sam knew nothing about weapons, but the force with which the bullets smashed into the car told her that it was some kind of high-powered machine gun.
“Stay down, you idiot,” snapped Nicky. “He’ll blow your head off.”
Nicky’s children were crying and screaming.
“Look after them, woman,” Nicky snapped at his wife.
Mrs Cairo gathered her children even closer and put her arms around their heads.
Mr Smith stopped firing, and seemed to be considering his options. He looked down at the panting, gasping Al, who could only manage a strangled, “Please, help me.”
Nicky’s hands went to his own heart.
“Is that what happened to me?” he asked Sam.
“Yes. I tried to warn Al. I didn’t think it hurt people our age, but because he’s also got a power, perhaps it’s too much for his system,” guessed Sam.
Still Mr Smith did nothing but stand his ground, gun raised.
“You have to let us help him,” Sam shouted out. “Can’t you see he’ll die if we don’t get him to hospital?”
“You’re right,” Mr Smith called back. “I promise I will get him the very best care. He is very precious and I don’t want him to die. So we are leaving now. Let us go and he will come to no harm.”
“You’re a dead man, Smith,” shouted out Nicky.
“Nicky, be reasonable,” called Mr Smith. “You have your family and your life. You are a lucky gambler. Time to walk away from the table, yes?”
Nicky wiped the sweat from his eyes with his sodden sleeve. He felt his heart. Sam could tell that he was coming to the conclusion that discretion was now the better part of valour.
Sam didn’t want Nicky’s family hurt, but she couldn’t leave Al, either.
“You got a deal,” called back Nicky, without consulting Sam.
Satisfied, Mr Smith dragged Al into the people carrier and cautiously got in himself, all the time covering Sam and Nicky with the gun.
Finally, he closed the door and revved the engine.
Nicky breathed a sigh of relief. He reached out to his nearest daughter and stroked and kissed her head.
“It’s ok, sweetheart, Daddy’s taken care of it. We’re going home now, I promise.”
There was a lull in the sobbing, and in that instant, they all heard the same sound. A clang and a rattle. A metal object landing on the tarmac and rolling.
Nicky looked at Sam. She looked at Nicky. They raised their heads, just in time to see another metal object land close to the cover of their car, and roll underneath.
Then there was an explosion underneath the small aeroplane in the hangar. T
he noise was terrific, and the rear section of the plane split and collapsed on the ground. Flames licked the paintwork of the body. Nicky’s daughters started screaming again.
“Run,” shouted Nicky, dragging his daughters to their feet. Sam pulled Mrs Cairo as she herself started running.
There was another explosion under the car, followed quickly by a secondary blast as the car’s fuel tank erupted. Sam, Nicky and his family were all thrown to the ground.
“Come on,” shouted Sam, helping them all to their feet. “Let’s get out of here.”
She picked up a child in each arm and started running for the outside. Nicky took his wife’s hand and led her out, too.
Sam skidded to a halt as she reached the threshold of the doors. The people carrier was parked less than twenty metres away. Mr Smith had propped the rifle on an open door and it was pointed right at them.
Nicky stopped short too, seeing the danger at the same time. His instinct as a fighter must have taken over. He reacted faster than Sam, who could only stare, paralyzed, at Mr Smith’s narrowed eyes behind the rifle.
Nicky pushed Sam to the ground as he grabbed his daughters. His large body was between them and the gun, and he took the full force of Mr Smith’s fire as the Russian opened up with a devastating salvo of bullets.
Nicky’s wife managed to scramble to safety behind the doors and Sam lay on top of her.
Bullets ripped through the walls. The smouldering plane was peppered with holes, eventually exploding in a deafening, frightening melee of noise, heat and burning metal. Black acrid smoke swirled around the hangar and out through the doors.
Mrs Cairo was sobbing but not screaming. Sam couldn’t hear anything from Nicky or his daughters. Then there was a squeal of tyres and the sound of an engine receding into the distance.
Sam picked herself up, removing debris from her back. She helped the traumatized Mrs Cairo to her feet.
The woman was hysterical, bewildered, and desperate to get to her children. When a wave of smoke passed, she saw a heap of bodies on the ground amid a blood lake. Mrs Cairo screamed and started scrabbling at the body of her husband. Sam almost couldn’t look. Nicky’s body was shattered by bullets, his innards splattered on the tarmac and across the metal doors. But, by a miracle, he’d succeeded in saving his children.