Blackout - By Tom Barber Page 0,58

his documents to the man at the desk. The guy looked at his photograph, then back at him, and the small man noticed his surprise as he saw his scars.

‘Purpose of visit?’

‘Visiting friends.’

He could see his scars were attracting the man’s attention.

'Boiling water. When I was a child,' the small man said, in as good a Spanish accent as he could muster. He said it with a smile and a look that said I've had to explain this many times before, but I'll do it again for you. It had actually been from a phosphorous grenade that had gone off right by his ear, but he figured it probably wouldn’t be a great idea to tell the official that.

After a few moments pause and another quick glance at the scars, the guy stamped the man's passport, handing it back with a nod.

'Enjoy your visit. Next,' he called, looking at the next person in the queue.

The small man took his passport and moved on towards the Arrivals Hall.

He walked through Customs under the Nothing to Declare banner, seeing the one-way mirrored glass and feeling eyes upon him from people behind. Then he walked through a set of double doors and arrived in the Arrivals Hall. It was pretty busy, lots of people milling about, sunlight streaming in through the long windows. He scanned the building, looking left and right, searching for a familiar face. Soon, he found it, a big man leaning against the far wall by the long glass windows, his superior officer, Spider. He was wearing a sweater, but had the sleeves pushed up, and Bug saw the spider-web tattoos covering each of his forearms. He walked over to the second-in-command of the Black Panthers. Spider saw him coming, and kicked off the wall. The two men shook hands as other passengers and travellers moved past them towards the exits.

'Any trouble?' Spider, asked in Albanian, his voice low, looking down at the smaller man.

'None, sir.'

'The target?'

'Gone. He suffered.'

Spider nodded. 'Good.' His smiled faded. 'Crow and Grub failed. They're both dead.'

The smaller man turned and looked out the window. 'Shit.'

'Yes. But it's OK. We'll handle it.'

Bug looked around. 'Where's Bird?'

'He won't be here for another few hours. He's flying in from Connecticut.'

There was a pause. Then they both turned and walked across the hall to the exit and the taxi rank. They saw a queue was forming down the pavement to their left, an airport worker ushering people into line, but Spider ignored them and raised his arm to hail a passing taxi. He got lucky with the second one that passed, and the black vehicle pulled up. Both men stepped inside, pulling the doors shut behind them. Spider gave the driver directions, the man nodding as Spider told him where to go, and the vehicle moved off, headed into the centre of London.

Back at the hospice, two fire engines had arrived. A team of firemen were holding the big hose and dousing the two cars, the water spraying over the blackened shells of the vehicles, the flames pretty much extinguished. The cars had been totalled by the explosions, both now just charred skeletons, hundreds of thousands of pounds gone in a second, along with the kid who’d tried to steal the Mercedes. Back inside the hospice, nurses were quickly checking on each patient. Fortunately, the bulk of the rooms were past the security door the other side of the building so none of them had been affected by the explosion.

By the front entrance, Archer took a good look at the smoking wreckage, then walked down the path towards Agent Jackson, who was standing watching the fire-team work, Archer’s boots crunching on the smashed glass of the entrance windows as he walked.

'Thank God for thieves,' Archer said to him. 'Never thought I'd hear myself say that.'

'They followed us here,' Jackson replied. 'They must have put the devices under the cars when we were inside.'

Archer nodded, and looked around the car park, sensing Jackson’s tension beside him. A small crowd had gathered outside the gates, much as it had back at the ARU's headquarters after the gunfight, but he looked at the tall office buildings around them, every window a possible threat point.

Behind the two men, Cobb reappeared, Chalky, Porter and Fox alongside him, the four men walking outside to join the other two by the entrance. None of them had noticed the receptionist glare at them as they passed her desk. They hadn’t exactly added to the calming atmosphere of