The Controller Read online

  ‘And there are masks? What are we waiting for?’’

  For the first time since the initial attack, Balfour turned to look at him. ‘They won’t be able to penetrate this area.’

  Lynch stepped towards Balfour, amazed by the man’s relaxed manner whilst outside his men were under attack. ‘Really? Then can you tell me how the hell they penetrated this hangar in the first place? Isn’t this supposed to be high security? Even Special Agent Lennox wasn’t allowed access.’

  Balfour nodded and turned his back on him. It was enough to confirm Lynch’s suspicions. As Balfour turned away to face the smoke-filled exterior, he made his move. He had the element of surprise on his side, but Balfour was quicker than he’d expected. As Lynch reached for him, grabbing him by the throat, Balfour launched a counter attack. Both men were locked together, Lynch raining blows into Balfour’s kidneys whilst Balfour tried to fight back.

  ‘What the hell are you doing, Lynch?’ screamed Rose.

  In the blur of the encounter, Lynch made out the form of Special Agent Rose standing in perfect gun-firing pose. Legs shoulder-width apart, gun held out in front with two hands.

  ‘He’s one of them, Rose,’ said Lynch, managing to slip his left leg behind Balfour and bringing him to the ground.

  Balfour crashed onto the floor, the back of his head slamming against the concrete and bouncing back up to face Lynch’s elbow which was careering towards him. The crunch of bone echoed around the hollow interior as Lynch reached for Balfour’s gun.

  ‘Drop it,’ said Rose.

  He could feel her behind him, imagined the gun pointed between his shoulder blades. He had little option. Rose was extremely well-trained and with a gun in his hand she wouldn’t listen to his pleas of negotiation. ‘I’m going to drop it,’ he said.

  ‘Nothing sudden,’ said Rose.

  Lynch nodded and bent his knees, allowing the gun to drop. He kicked it away as Balfour gurgled and moaned next to him. ‘You must see it was him who let them in,’ he said, turning to face Rose.

  ‘We have absolutely no proof of that. For all I know it could be you.’

  ‘Think straight, Rose. Why would I stage this?’

  ‘Razinski requested you. What better way to stage an escape? You’re the only civilian here.’

  Rose’s gun was pointed at his chest but Lynch could see her resolve fading. ‘They took my child, Rose. I wouldn’t help them even if I could. I have no idea where we are. I was blindfolded when they took me from my house and we drove for hours. We could be anywhere.’

  Rose didn’t respond. She kept her gun aloft.

  ‘We need to make a decision, Rose. They’re going to kill Razinski.’

  Beyond the divide, still clouded with smoke, the muted sound of gunshots continued. Rose and Lynch stood staring at one another, stuck in an impasse until finally Rose lowered her gun.

  Balfour was unconscious and didn’t stir as Lynch put him into the recovery position. ‘He’s going to be fine. Safest place for him. May I?’ he said, pointing at Balfour’s gun.

  Rose lowered her gaze. ‘So help me God,’ she said.

  Lynch picked up the gun, his gaze fixed on Rose. He saw the hesitation in her eyes but she kept her gun lowered. ‘What do you know of the layout?’ he asked.

  ‘About the same as you. This is the first time I’ve been here as well. Did you see any of the shooters?’

  ‘No, impossible to tell.’

  ‘You been through that door?’ said Lynch, picking up his rucksack

  ‘No, but it doesn’t seem to be code protected.’

  They moved in formation, Lynch kicking open the door as Rose secured the area beyond. The door led to a second room where the tear gas had yet to penetrate. ‘Here,’ said Rose, pointing to a store cupboard which the SWAT members had left open. She reached in and handed him a SWAT gas mask. Lynch had his eyes fixed on the row of rifles and machine guns. He took a Koch MP5 machine gun and one for Rose. Rose didn’t question him, taking the offered gun and pulling the strap across her shoulder before opening the steel door.

  Rose pointed, her breathing heavy in the mask’s inbuilt headset. They edged their way into the main hangar area. The gas was clearing but their vision was still limited. Rose stumbled and Lynch raised his gun in anticipation. ‘Jesus,’ said Rose, gazing down at the murdered colleague she’d stumbled over. They crouched down, scanning the area for the gunmen but the whole area was still.

  Lynch’s mind tended to switch into a different gear in these situations. It was a type of coping mechanism. He stopped considering danger, hesitation his enemy. Only on reflection did he marvel at the risks he was prepared to take. ‘How many guards did we have on duty,’ whispered Lynch.

  ‘At least twenty, if not more.’

  ‘This strike you as weird?’

  ‘Maybe the explosion accounted for more than we imagined.’

  They edged forward, the gas dispersing enough so they could see inside Razinski’s prison. ‘Shit, they got to him,’ said Lynch.

  Razinski was still in his elevated position strapped to the metallic chair. His head lolled to one side, held in place by the metal strap curled around his neck. Lynch made out the red patch blossoming across his chest.

  ‘Where the hell are they?’ said Rose.

  Bodies surrounded the glass dome. They secured the area and edged forward. Lynch stopped by one of the fallen agents, one of Razinski’s guards he’d nodded to earlier. The man had no pulse but Lynch couldn’t find any gunshot wound. ‘Keep your mask on,’ he said to Rose.

  ‘No wounds here,’ said Rose, bending down next to another of the guards. ‘I think we need to get out of here. God only knows what’s in this gas.’

  Lynch didn’t want to contemplate what was in the tear gas. Although they hadn’t breathed it in, their skin was exposed and it was possible they’d been infected. I need to see if Razinski is alive,’ said Lynch, moving towards the prison, trying his best to avoid the corpses lining his path.

  ‘We need to go,’ repeated Rose, who held the MP5 in front of her moving it in a continued circle surveying the area for danger.

  ‘They’ve gone,’ said Lynch, reaching the entry to Razinski’s prison where the second guard lay on the floor, jamming the entrance open. Lynch touched the man’s neck, dismayed by the coldness of his skin, the stillness where he should have felt the throb of his pulse. He held Balfour’s gun in front of him as he edged towards Razinski.

  The man reeked. Up close, Lynch could see the bullet hole in Razinski’s shoulder. The entry point suggested the bullet had entered from above. Lynch glanced upwards from Razinski’s vantage point towards a stanchion area. It was possible that the gunman had positioned himself there, had waited for the guard to open the bulletproof divide before squeezing a shot towards Razinski.

  ‘Let’s go,’ came Rose’s voice in his ears.

  Lynch cursed and was about to leave when Razinski’s eyes flicked open.

  8

  ‘He’s breathing,’ said Lynch, shaking himself into the present. The dome was free of the tear gas but he kept his mask on.

  Rose followed him into the prison, her gun still held in front of her. They were sitting ducks unless the assailants had either fled or been killed in the fight. Rose moved towards Razinski and examined the bullet wounds. ‘One shoulder hit, two to the stomach,’ she said into the mask’s inbuilt microphone, the words crackling with static.

  Without hesitation, Lynch smacked Razinski open-palmed across his cheek. ‘Razinski,’ he shouted.

  Razinski’s eyes blinked opened only for them to close once more.

  ‘No time for that, Razinski,’ said Lynch, smacking the man again.

  The second impact shook the man awake, a smile creeping across his lips as he became accustomed to this situation. ‘I told you,’ he said, his voice a dry rasp.

  ‘We can help you,’ said Lynch.

  Razinski glanced down to his wounds. ‘Face it, Lynch, you’ve got nothing to offer.’


  ‘We need to get out of here,’ said Rose.

  ‘They have your father and daughter,’ said Lynch, containing his mounting desperation. It felt ludicrous negotiating with a man such as Razinski. He was a pure psychopath. It was inconceivable that he had an ounce of compassion, even for close family members, but impending death could do the strangest things to a person. ‘Tell me where to look and I’ll find them. Who is the Controller?’

  ‘As if you’d do that for me.’ Razinski coughed, a well of blood spewing from his mouth.

  ‘I wouldn’t do it for you, I’d do it for me.’

  ‘And your son?’

  Lynch’s body tensed. ‘And my son, yes.’

  Razinski struggled for breath but was determined enough to utter his dying words. ‘Some things are best left alone, Lynch. You wouldn’t recognize your son now. The boy you know is gone.’

  Rose heard the words, and inched towards Lynch as if in support. It was too late. Lynch wanted to stay professional but Razinski’s words spoke to him, painting pictures in his mind he wasn’t ready to contemplate. He went to punch Razinski in the face, only to change course at the last second instead landing a blow to the bullet wound on Razinski’s shoulder. Razinski smiled so Lynch held his hand on the wound and began to squeeze.

  A brief period of silence ensued, followed by a howl of pain which reverberated around the glass prison. Lynch was thankful Rose didn’t try to intervene. She kept her eyes on the vacant hangar as he kept his fingers pressed into Razinski’s yielding flesh.

  ‘Okay,’ screamed Razinski.

  Lynch released his grip. ‘That was your only chance. I meant what I said, I will do everything I can to find your daughter and father. Tell me where to go.’

  Razinski fell in and out of consciousness. As he began to slip away, Lynch pressed his fingers further into the wound. ‘Not yet, Razinski,’ he said.

  Death was a great leveler. With the binds holding him in place, and the blood oozing from his wounds, it was almost possible to have sympathy for the dying man. Lynch reminded himself of Razinski’s crimes. ‘Tell me,’ he repeated, trying not to plead.

  ‘We need to go,’ said Rose.

  ‘Lean closer,’ said Razinski, like a character from a dark fairy tale.

  Lynch lent in, disgusted by the smells drifting towards him, the sourness of the man’s breath, the pungent body odor, and the distinctive smell of the blood leaking from his body. Lynch waited for the comeback, the final biting comment from a dying man, but Razinski surprised him. Spittle tinged with blood frothed from his mouth as he spoke. ‘Mallard,’ he said.

  Lynch nodded, hiding his shock. Still holding his breath as he listened to Razinski’s dying breaths. He glanced over to Rose unsure if she’d heard the name, her focus on the vacant bunker site, her knees bent ready to flee. ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Yes. Finish it,’ said Razinski.

  Lynch glared down at the man, pulling his gun from its holster and pointing it to his head. Razinski closed his eyes, the outline of the smile forming on his lips as he waited for oblivion but Lynch kept the gun raised and followed Rose out of the glass prison. As they made their way across the body-laden floor of the hangar, the sound of Razinski’s cries and curses reverberated around the compound.

  They stopped at the entrance to the secure room. At their feet lay the bodies of the two SWAT members they’d encountered during their meeting with Balfour.

  ‘We can’t leave Balfour here,’ said Rose.

  Lynch cleared his mind. In principle he agreed with her but taking Balfour with them was a risk. He didn’t know for sure if Balfour was involved but the safer option was to leave the man behind. ‘He’ll be fine here. I don’t think we should risk it.’

  Rose gazed at him, an alien visage with her gas mask protruding from her face. ‘I’d lose my job,’ she said, making her way through the barrier.

  Lynch nodded. He followed her into the room but Balfour was no longer there.

  9

  Lynch held his gun aloft as Rose secured the area where they’d left Balfour. ‘We need to get out of here,’ said Lynch.

  They moved deeper into the hangar, Rose taking the lead. ‘Through here,’ she said, her labored breath clear in Lynch’s ear-piece. They moved downwards into the heart of the building, Lynch hoping Rose knew what she was doing.

  ‘There’s a car pool down here,’ she said, as if reading his thoughts.

  Lynch remembered the journey he’d made underground once Lennox and his colleagues had been relieved of their duties and wondered how deep into the ground they were.

  Two steel doors blocked their path to the car pool area, the body of a fallen SWAT agent wedging the door open. Rose bent down and checked the pulse of her colleague, mouthing the word, ‘no,’ into her mouthpiece.

  Lynch stepped over the body of the agent, careful not to touch the corpse out of an ingrained form of respect. He noticed as he jumped clear that the agent’s semi-automatic rifle was still tight against his chest suggesting he hadn’t had time to defend himself. Gun raised, he watched Rose make the same journey. He wondered if she blamed him for their predicament, and for her fallen colleagues. Her life had certainly taken a turn for the worst since he’d been introduced into her life. It was impossible to tell, her headgear masking all but the subtlest signs of body language.

  He followed her to the blacked-out van that had driven him into the compound. ‘Shit,’ said Rose, as she opened the driver’s door to discover the sight of another agent slumped against the steering wheel, a gaping wound where the side of his head should have been. ‘Help me move him, Lynch.’

  Together they hauled the heavyset figure from his resting place. ‘Sorry buddy,’ said Lynch, as the corpse fell to the ground.

  The keys were still in the ignition. ‘Get in,’ said Rose, wiping blood and other matter from the driver’s chair and dashboard. ‘Keep your mask on,’ she added, as she started the engine, taking the words from Lynch’s mouth.

  The engine roared into life and Rose began the long ascent to the top of the building. Lynch kept his window wound down, his gun at the ready for any surprises.

  ‘Fuck,’ said Rose.

  The way forward was blocked by another set of doors, these ones not wedged open.

  Rose switched off the engine and they left the car both still wearing their headgear, their guns pointed in front of them as extensions of their bodies. Lynch wanted to take off his mask, its tight confines combined with the cloying remnants of the smoke bomb adding to his sense of claustrophobia.

  ‘Through here,’ said Rose, guiding him to a side door.

  ‘Careful,’ said Lynch, realizing as he spoke how redundant his words were. Rose had proved to be nothing but professional and it was churlish to expect any different now.

  If his comment bothered her, she hid it well. She kicked open the door, ducking to the left as Lynch held his gun aloft and cleared the room.

  The room was desolate, the agents on duty having most likely joined the battle beneath. At the other end of the room, a second set of doors was open and Lynch caught a glimpse of something he feared he would never see again.

  Daylight.

  Rose signaled for them to move to the side and they edged their way to the opening. Lynch was sure whoever was responsible had long since departed but was happy with the cautious approach. They followed the same routine as before, Rose securing the outside area as Lynch made his way out into the fresh air.

  In the commotion, Lynch had lost track of time. From the light he estimated it was mid to late afternoon. They scanned the outside area, Rose taking a particular interest in the rooftops. It was five minutes before they lowered their weapons.

  ‘I think we should keep these on until we’re clear of the space,’ said Rose, knocking the exterior of her mask.

  ‘I agree. Let’s get the hell out of Jacksonville, Agent Rose.’

  Rose stared at him, her face unreadable behind the gas mask. ‘Whatever you say, Lynch. Let
’s try over there.’ She pointed to a lot of six identical vans, each blacked out like the one currently trapped within the hangar.

  They tried each of the vans, but none held a set of keys. Rose got into the driver’s seat of the last van. ‘FBI training 101,’ she said, bending down and opening the casing protecting the ignition.

  The heat of Lynch’s breath circulated around his mask as he waited for Rose to start the van. His heart drummed at a steady pace as he surveyed the small car park area, a jet of adrenaline rushing his system as the engine finally roared into life.

  Lynch kept his window wound down as Rose maneuvered the car through a checkpoint which had been blown open. ‘Where are we?’ said Lynch, as Rose drove the van through a desert-like area. The land was level, the ground beneath them a coarse yellow-brown. Above them, a perfect blue sky beat down. From the position of the sun, Lynch estimated it was between two and three in the afternoon.

  ‘I could tell you but I’d have to kill you,’ said Rose, a lightness to her voice as she recounted the hackneyed joke.

  Lynch made an educated guess. ‘West of San Antonio?’

  ‘A couple of hours out west,’ said Rose, her masked expression not giving away any sense she was impressed by his deduction.

  ‘I think it’s safe now,’ said Lynch, pulling off his gas mask. The relief was staggering. He hung his face out of the window, allowing the air to rush his face.

  Rose followed suit, sighing loudly as she inhaled the fresh air. A thick red line outlined her face where the mask had dug into her skin.

  ‘I forgot what you looked like,’ said Lynch.

  Rose pressed some buttons on the dashboard to no avail. ‘Signal is still jammed.’

  ‘Strange there are no response units. You would have thought word would have got out by now,’ said Lynch.

  ‘This is a highly secure area, Lynch. I’d never heard of it before. Just look at our location. With communication cut, it’s not surprising no other units have arrived.’

  Lynch rocked in his chair. He lowered his gun, the tension easing from his shoulders. It highlighted how intensive the last hour had been. He glanced at Rose whose focus was straight ahead on the endless road before them. As they continued in silence, Lynch remembered what Razinski had said to him.