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People don’t remember that though, do they?
Just the bad.
“With me,” Caelan said, and he and Cain left the vehicle.
Cliff skidded away with the other two who’d make themselves comfortable on the roof of another apartment building nearby. Backup. British spies in the city had stashed weapons on that roof, ready and waiting for their use. Richards and Chuckles were the best sharp shooters in the Northern Hemisphere. It didn’t take a genius to figure out they’d been seduced by the wrong kind. Hence evading the authorities in a cave. Because Caelan knew they sure as shit weren’t lovers, so it wasn’t to shack up or anything.
Meanwhile Caelan and Cain strode across the street, heading for the place where at least Eric was meant to be being kept. It was no doubt why the entire street and neighbourhood was eerily quiet, why there were no children on the streets, not even a beggar or two out to filch some copper from their wallets.
“Ain’t right,” muttered Cain.
“Be ready,” said Caelan.
Cain had been brought along for one reason and one alone.
Size and therefore, the appearance of might.
He even intimidated Caelan (not that Caelan would ever admit it).
Cain was the only other who’d been SAS. Before retirement Cain had been controllable, but now out of the forces, he was a loose cannon taking part in illegal boxing matches and bodyguarding some of the slipperiest bastards around. Caelan’s thoughts turned dark as he realised he wouldn’t be so sad to lose Cain; it’d mean some of the foulest gangsters and pimps around wouldn’t keep getting away with the stuff they were.
Though he’d assembled this party of renegades, on the whole ex-serviceman and women were good people. It was the aftermath that wasn’t good to them… hence why some went rogue and earnt themselves prison, homelessness or even worse situations.
The door to the apartment building was open, swinging on its hinges. They walked right in, clambered over the trash lying around the hallway and headed for the stairwell. They climbed three flights of stairs before they reached the corridor leading to their destination.
Again, deathly quiet. Not a sound. True, they were acting on British intelligence, but even that on occasion was wrong.
And they had nothing. No weapons. No equipment. Just themselves. Oh, and two rogue assassins across the way, potentially having been intercepted as they made their way into the building opposite.
“Nowt for it, boss,” growled Cain.
They reached a door which had a bunch of scratches and boot prints all over it. The lock had been broken, repaired, broken, repaired…
Caelan took a deep breath. He’d been in worse situations. Not to say this would be a breeze, but it wouldn’t be as bad as some of the other hellish encounters he’d dealt with and escaped… somehow. A few times barely by the skin of his teeth.
Caelan knocked on the door and then there was noise. So, they weren’t expected.
Boots shuffled in the room and hushed voices spouted commands.
“I don’t think they knew,” said Cain.
“Quiet,” Caelan commanded.
Bolts and other locks (no doubt makeshift ones) were released.
The first thing that poked out of the crack between the door and frame was a shotgun. The chain was on but a quick kick of the door had it open and the soldier fell flat on his back on the floor.
Caelan stepped over the felled man and strode into the revolting space in which twenty men had obviously been contained together for quite some time. A poky living area not more than twenty-metres square. Someone flushed and came out of some cupboard of a bathroom just as Caelan moved into the centre of the room, Cain hot on his heels. Most men stared, dumbfounded.
So, they knew who he was then.
Eric was tied to a chair alongside another man, the asset. Both were bloodied and pale.
The rest were Ukrainians.
Caelan made it his business to always learn some of the language wherever he went, and he’d been to Ukraine plenty before on exercises, so he said in their tongue, “I’m not armed. I’m here for negotiations.” His pronunciation was awful. Some of them snickered, but it got the message across. “Check, if you like.”
The guy he’d just sent flying checked Cain first, patting him down, perhaps because he looked like more of a threat. Then it was Caelan’s turn. Again, they discovered no weapons.
