the bank. And not just one, but two of the British Army’s most celebrated SAS operators as a prize. If Alexander is unhappy about the loss—the temporary loss, mind you—of the studios then he will not be for long.”
Sergei was slowing, trying to make sense of a forest of signage at the entrance to the hospital complex, just as Dmitry’s phone rang. It was Boris. He had details of where to come in order to collect the girl.
Yes, it has been an interesting night, thought Dmitry as he relayed directions to Sergei and instructed Wladimir to be ready. However, although everything had gone to plan so far, he had a distinct feeling that the night still had a surprise or two in store.
CHAPTER 73
THE MERCEDES CAME into the entrance road of the hospital and then drew almost to a standstill. “Where to now?” said Bennett, peering in evident confusion at the signs. Shelley, too, leaned forward to gaze through the windshield. He was about to direct Bennett to the main entrance when he saw it: over to their right, a black Transit van headed across the front of the main building just below them.
Of course. Some kind of rear entrance.
“Down there,” he pointed. “The van. Do you see it?”
“Got it,” said Bennett.
They slipped smoothly down a ramp in pursuit. Shelley drew his SIG, checked the mag, chambered a round. He unclipped his seat belt, ready. Did they already have Lucy? He didn’t know. Was he running right into the trap they had laid for him? He didn’t know that either.
Some way ahead the Transit rounded a corner, taking the service road to the back of the building, just as Shelley had thought.
No, thought Shelley, there was absolutely no point in running right into a trap. He remembered Lucy and the guard in Iraq. They saved lives that day precisely because they didn’t go in all guns blazing.
“Stop,” he said.
“Really?” But Bennett was already hitting the brakes, ABS bringing them to a fast but steady and, more importantly, quiet stop.
The Transit was out of sight now. “What are you—” started Bennett, but Shelley had already opened the door and stepped out, keeping his SIG low and his target area small as he scuttled along the service road until he reached the corner of the building. He could just about hear Bennett’s harsh, stranded whisper behind him: “Shelley, what the fuck are you doing? Shelley? Get your arse back here . . .”
At the corner he risked a quick look and saw a large, locked roller door, possibly for deliveries—laundry, something like that. Further back was what looked like a fire escape. Near that, the Transit, backed up so that the rear was close to the fire escape. The driver and passenger doors were opening and he pulled back sharply as Sergei and Dmitry both got out at the same time, carrying handguns and checking the coast was clear.
Shelley glanced behind at the Mercedes, where the driver’s door had opened and Bennett was climbing out. Shelley didn’t want Susie left alone but right now he was running out of options. Lucy was the priority. God, I’m sorry, sweetheart, he told her silently, and risked another peek around the wall.
A tall blond guy had clambered out of the back of the Transit. Dmitry ordered him to take up position and watch their rear, while he and Sergei approached the fire escape. At that moment the door opened with a chunky sound, loud in what was otherwise a still night. Framed in the doorway were two men who grumbled and bitched in low voices as they manhandled a body.
Lucy.
Shelley’s breath caught in his chest. Her blond hair hung over her face. The wound in her thigh was bleeding, blood spreading across the front of her pajamas. But he was almost certain she wasn’t dead, just stunned. And yes. There. Her eyelids fluttered. Her head lolled as though she was trying to raise it.
Dmitry had his phone to his ear. Shelley wondered what he was doing. Summoning more men perhaps? Demanding some kind of status update?
It occurred to him that if Bennett was right about it being a trap, then the trap required Shelley’s presence, which meant . . .
Too late, he realized. The call Dmitry was making.
It was to him.
CHAPTER 74
SHELLEY’S HAND SLAPPED at his pocket just as his phone rang and his position was revealed.
He thought fast and decided his only option was to claw back the element of surprise. So as the Chechens reacted, Shelley broke cover.
Bursting forward,