TURKISH DELIGHT by Barry Faulkner (ebook reader wifi .TXT) 📗

I didn’t have time to work on that – locks I can do, safes are bit beyond me, but I took a picture of it in case Woodward wanted me to come back with somebody who could open it.

I spent at least ten minutes in that room taking snaps of papers in folders in a filing cabinet – far too many to snap them all but I took five of the first pages in each of the folders. The filing cabinet had been locked, but come on – a lock on a filing cabinet is easy for a kid, let alone a pro. I had laughed as it popped open after about five seconds’ work with the picks – oh Mr Rambart, maybe you should employ me as a security consultant.

Loud footsteps and voices on the metal staircase sent a shiver through me, I clicked on the comms, hoping Gold was still within reach.

‘Confirm how many are in the car?’ I asked quietly.

‘Two, why?’

‘There were four in the warehouse and I think I have the other two back for company.’

‘Want me back?’

‘No, surprise is on my side.’ I put my gun in my pocket – I didn’t think I’d need it – and turned off my head torch. I checked that all my pockets were shut – good old Velcro, I didn’t want anything that could identify me falling out.

The door was an inward opening one, so the best attack would be to hit them whilst they were on the stairs; I would have the height advantage and they would naturally be off balance. I pulled my balaclava down to full facial and pulled the door open quietly. They were at the top step and being a narrow staircase were one behind the other. I stepped out as the first one stepped up onto the platform and raised my leg and planted my right boot into his stomach with force. The look of surprise on his face was immediately followed by one of fear mixed with pain as he fell back onto number two, and they both tumbled back down the staircase, their bodies and heads banging against the steel handrails and steps as they fell.

I was down after them in a flash and had the first one lifted up and over the rail in a split second. I didn’t bother to watch him fall as number two was getting himself together and although laid sideways on the stairs was reaching into a coat pocket, probably for a gun. I jumped the three steps down to him and stamped on his other hand that was clinging to the step; he squealed in pain as the finger tendons snapped under my boot. I took him by the hair and smashed his head into the handrail a couple of times before lifting his now limp body up and over to plummet to the floor below to join number one.

I took the stairs in twos to the bottom and hurried to where my victims had fallen, pulling out my gun just in case. Number one was draped over the edge of a large crate and there was a fair amount of blood seeping into the wood; his pulse was dead, and so was he. Number two had hit the concrete floor and was amazingly stirring and moving – couldn’t have that, no witnesses is how I work. I put his neck in an arm lock and twisted until the jolt and crack told me he was gone too. I know what you are thinking, and you are right – I’m not a very nice man when the chips are down, but that’s probably why I’m still alive and in one piece. Six years undercover behind the Taliban lines in Afghanistan teaches you that he who attacks first usually wins.

A fair amount of noise had been made during all this, so I moved quickly away to a far corner and sat out of sight behind a crate, getting my breath back and waiting to see if there was anybody else around who might have heard something and be coming to investigate. I gave it a couple of minutes – all quiet, time to go.

Getting out was a damn sight easier than getting in now that I had the code to the side door. I shut it behind me, clicking the lock into position; nobody would know I’d come in that way and once over the wall I lifted the tarpaulin off the razor wire and put it back over the sand heap. The razor wire looked a bit flat and anybody checking would see that there was where the intruder got in, but that didn’t make any odds really – I was out.

I kept in the dark and made my way back to my car; the guard in the gatehouse was sitting at his table reading. I wondered how Gold had coaxed him out? No doubt she’d tell me later. She didn’t.

I drove out of the industrial estate and tried the comms; no reply, she was obviously out of its reach so I gave her a call on the mobile.

‘What’s happening? Where are you?’

‘Coming up to Marble Arch, they haven’t stopped on the way.’

‘Okay, stay with them – he must be going home for the night so we could get a break on where he lives.’

‘He might be going to the Knightsbidge place. How did you get on, are you out?’

‘Yes, got a lot of photos of crates and papers for Woodward. He should be happy.’

‘You leave a mess behind?’

‘Nah, you know me – a couple of bodies, that’s all.’

‘Typical. I hope one of them wasn’t the guard from the front gate, that would have spoilt his best shift ever.’

‘Really, how come?’

‘I’ll tell you some other time, or maybe I won’t. Hey ho! It’s not Knightsbridge, we’re off up Park