We were halfway across a pitted, evil-smelling no-man’s-land when the first shots rang out.
Violent Crime Director Sebastian looked out over the lights of central Washington. To his left, the Capitol building stood out like an oversize wedding cake, bright and icing-white.
‘Sit down, Peter,’ the Director said, closing a file. ‘Sorry to keep you.’
Sebastian did as he was told and looked across the desk at the wizened man who bore such a resemblance to Robert Redford that his nickname was ‘Sundance.’ He had been an admiral and, later, a Presidential adviser, before landing the job at the top of the Hoover Building.
‘Now, what’s the story with Sir Andrew Frogget?’ The Director still had a Southern drawl, though it was many years since he’d lived in South Carolina. ‘Was it a heart attack?’
‘It looks that way. The postmortem won’t be done till the morning.’
‘You told the Brits?’
Sebastian nodded. ‘The number two at their embassy. He said he would consult. I can’t say he sounded particularly animated.’
‘They don’t do animated, Peter.’ The Director steepled his fingers and looked over the points. ‘Did he ask why Sir Andrew was in custody?’
‘He asked if he was helping us with our inquiries.’
‘Probably some British joke. Routh Limited is a major player on the world scene, though. What was Frogget doing in custody?’
Sebastian felt the strength of his superior’s gaze. ‘He was caught with an underage hooker. I took the opportunity to squeeze him about Rothmann and Woodbridge Holdings.’
‘Did you now? Routh was involved, of course.’
‘It was Woodbridge’s main investment bank.’
‘Did he tell you anything?’
‘He gave us some names. We’re checking them out.’
‘Do you have a list?’
Sebastian handed over a printed page, which the Director scanned.
‘Some more big names here,’ he said, putting the sheet down. ‘You had better exercise caution.’
‘We will. I take it you approve the investigation?’
‘Oh, certainly. Good work.’ The Director looked at his computer screen and then back at Sebastian. ‘Was there anything else? I have to look over my speech to the UN Climate Change Conference… I hope your unit is running energy-efficient vehicles.’
Surprised, Sebastian stood up, but swallowed the laugh he’d been about to let loose. It seemed the Director was serious.
‘Down!’ I yelled, diving to the soft ground. I looked to my right. Two of the Pakistanis were lying crumpled and motionless, the rest desperately taking cover. Spurts of earth were flying up as automatic weapons fire continued to rain down.
‘This is murder!’ the major screamed.
‘Keep them down!’ I yelled back. In the distance, I could see Sara crawling forward, having jettisoned one of her spears. ‘When the fire turns on us, get them to crawl back.’
The Pakistani officer nodded, his cap at an angle.
I pulled myself forward by my elbows. Before I had gone five yards, bullets began to spit into the ground around me. At least that would give the Pakistanis a chance to retreat. Ahead of me was a broken-down cart that looked like it had survived the Civil War, though only just. I took cover behind it and watched as Sara dived into a trench that ran alongside the meandering river. Spouts of water flew up from it as the defenders tried to hit her.
I crawled to the front of the cart, hearing bullets thud into the wood. The original dashboard was hanging loose at the far side. I managed to put my shoulder to the near side and detach it completely. It was about five feet long and two feet wide, and would provide reasonable protection. Now I felt like a Homeric hero behind his shield. I stuck the sword I’d picked up into my belt and lifted the board; fortunately there was a length of wood in the center that served as a grip. Taking my spear in the other hand, I stood up and made for the two-story building. By the time I got there, the wooden panel was holed and splintered, but it had done its job. Apart from a new parting in my hair and a shallow furrow in my thigh, I was unhurt. But I was pissed off in a big way, and my feet hurt like a bastard. Someone was going to pay.
I pulled myself over the remains of a window frame and threw the spear at a man in a hawk’s head. It pinned him to a door at shoulder level, causing him to drop the Kalashnikov he’d raised at me. I ran forward and grabbed the weapon. He was groaning, but the wound didn’t look mortal. There were ammunition clips in his pockets and I relieved him of those.
‘Who are you?’ I asked, as I tried to pull the door open.
‘Indian Army, Sixteenth Rifle Battalion,’ he gasped, trying to pull the spear out with his other hand.
‘I’d leave that where it is if I were you,’ I said, pulling his hand away. ‘How many are you?’
‘Forty plus two…three officers.’
Shit. We were seriously outnumbered. I heard bursts of fire beyond the door. After a few seconds, only one weapon was being fired. Then I heard Sara’s voice.
I managed to get the door open and raise the Kalashnikov as three men in turbans charged toward me. I gave them a blast in front of their feet.
‘Drop your weapons!’ I ordered, watching as rifles like mine hit the uneven floor. ‘Now turn round and go back the way you came.’
‘No, no!’ one of them gasped, his eyes wide. ‘She is a demon.’
He was right there, but I reckoned I could restrain Sara. I beckoned them forward.
Sara was in the next room, swinging a pair of Kalashnikovs at a crowd of cowering Indians. Beyond her, through the shattered wall, I could see other turbaned figures making their escape, the river reaching up to their thighs. There were several men lying motionless on the ground.
‘Oh, there you are,’ she said, looking at me blankly. I had no idea what zone she was in, but I hoped I would never go there. Blood was dripping from her right arm and there was a crimson stain on her abdomen.
‘Are you all right?’
She followed the direction of my gaze. ‘Just scratched,’ she said, looking round her captives again. ‘These fuckers were firing live rounds.’
‘I noticed. Where are the officers?’
A dark-skinned man with a huge mustache stood up slowly. ‘Lieutenant-Colonel V. J. Singh.’ His gaze dropped. ‘My colleagues are dead.’
‘What the fuck were you doing?’ I demanded. ‘This is supposed to be a training exercise.’
The officer held my gaze. ‘Who said that? We were told that live rounds were necessary. The attackers are convicted murderers, are they not?’
I stared at him in amazement. ‘You mean you signed up to kill people?’
‘This is the great virtue of Cerberus Security, is it not?’ he said, looking less sure of himself. ‘We can give our men experience of real action.’
I glanced at Sara. ‘Ever heard of Cerberus Security?’
She shook her head. ‘Sound like nice people to do business with.’
Cerberus was obviously a company with a lot to hide, hence the absence of signs at the entrance to the camp. But we had other things to worry about, such as staying alive.
‘Do you want to know who the people you shot at really were?’ I asked the colonel, not waiting for an answer. ‘Pakistani mountain troops.’
His eyes opened extremely wide. ‘What? Oh, my God…’ As I’d hoped, he had realized the seriousness of the situation. The neighboring countries were at loggerheads, both of them nuclear powers, and he was responsible for several Pakistani deaths. If that wasn’t a de facto declaration of war, I didn’t know what would be.
Everyone ducked as machine-gun fire raked the ruins from the front. Four Indian soldiers fell, two of them screaming and the others beyond that.
‘Okay,’ I said, crouching beside the colonel. ‘You can see the shit storm you’re in. Cerberus Security has obviously decided you can’t be allowed to live. Either you fight back or you die.’
He looked at me gravely, then nodded. ‘Sergeants, to me,’ he commanded.