The Assassin King

The road to Fenton Airfield was a narrow and winding single track lane with passing places every hundred yards or so, whose pitted surface was made even harder to navigate by the shadows cast upon it by the broken hedgerow it was flanked by. Elias raced along it far faster than was prudent, his foot hovering over the brake. Just as well, for he came around one bend to find a tractor nosing out of a field ahead. He tooted a plea for it to let him by, but it was already too late and he had to slam his brakes on hard.

The tractor came lumbering out, hauling an open container of sweet potatoes clumped with mud that jumped like Mexican beans at every pothole. There was no chance to overtake, yet Elias kept pulling out anyway, if only to put pressure on the driver. He flashed his lights and held his warrant card out the window, and finally it pulled into the side with just enough room for him to squeeze by, the hedgerow raking down his side. He waved thanks and sped on.

He hadn’t seen the white van for at least three minutes, but thankfully Fenton Airfield now appeared to his right, the other side of a sagging wire fence. It looked huge. No wonder de Bruin had coveted it. A pair of light aircraft were parked on the grass in front of a line of three corrugated iron hangars, beyond which the old grey concrete runway lay at an angle, ending near a line of trees that served as a screen between it and the neighbouring property. No sign of the van, though. He was beginning to think he’d got it wrong when suddenly it came racing around the front of the hangars, then vanished into the middle one. And it was Warne’s, no question. He could see the scratch down its side.

Elias sped on to a junction at the end of the lane. He turned sharp right and then right again, passing between a pair of crooked wooden gateposts into the airfield itself, then along an old track in terrible disrepair. A white Twin Otter with pale blue trim and an open hatch in its side came taxiing into view, trundling to the short end of the runway before turning in preparation for take-off. He’d never reach it in time if he stuck to the track and had to circle all the way around the hangars, so he muttered a prayer for his Leaf and cut across the grass instead.

The ground was horrendously uneven. He bounded all over the place, spitting stones up against his undercarriage. But he made it to the strip even as the Twin Otter began its take-off run, screeching to a halt in front of it, blocking its path. He jumped out and held his warrant card up for the pilot to see, waved at him to stop. The engines lost their thunder. The plane drifted to a halt. He thought, for a moment, that it was over. Then de Bruin appeared over the pilot’s shoulder and shouted in his ear. The pilot shook his head. De Bruin tried to drag him from his seat. The pilot shook him off. De Bruin vanished then returned with a small red fire extinguisher that he crashed down on the back of the pilot’s head before pulling him from his seat and taking his place.

The propellers roared once more. The Twin Otter swung out onto the grass. Elias had to duck beneath its wing as it circled around his Leaf before regaining the strip on its far side. He ran after it, not altogether believing his eyes. Surely even de Bruin would have to accept reality. But then he caught a glimpse through its open hatch of Anna lying on the cabin floor with tape over her mouth while Andrei bound her arms and legs to a chunk of broken masonry. And suddenly their recklessness made sense.

He sprinted after them, stumbling in his haste before flinging himself at the steel platform step behind and beneath the starboard wing, grabbing it with both hands and being dragged along for a terrifying second or two before he successfully hauled himself up onto it. Again he assumed that that would be that, that the plane would stop. Again he was wrong. The Twin Otter sped ever faster down the strip, juddering and bouncing so violently that it was all Elias could do to cling on.

He grabbed the wing strut for support then rose awkwardly to his feet, even as Andrei finished binding Anna to the masonry and came to stand in the hatchway, blocking Elias from the cabin and holding a stun gun up in warning, which seemed somewhat redundant considering the size of the man. An Olympic weightlifter, Anna had called him, and it described him perfectly, with his massive limbs and torso, his tree-trunk neck and the look of stolid concentration on his face.

The plane was pelting along now, the air buffeting Elias and flapping his jacket into chaotic wings. The detour around his car meant they were close to the end of the runway before reaching take-off velocity. He feared for a moment they wouldn’t make it over the trees, but they lifted so sharply that he had to adjust his feet to keep his balance. He had a crazy urge to leap before it was too late, but then the ground fell away beneath them dizzyingly fast.

They reached a first few wisps of broken cloud, cold and wet on his fingers, reducing the fields and villages below to occasional glimpses. They wouldn’t be turning back now. De Bruin was committed to this madness. Andrei was still blocking the hatchway. Just looking at him left Elias feeling weak and helpless, as had happened once or twice in the ring when he’d caught his opponent with his best shots without hurting them at all. No way could he match him, let alone defeat him. Indeed, all the man had to do was come down onto the platform step with his stun gun and it would soon be over. Yet he stayed inside the cabin instead, throwing baffled glances down at the ground beneath, until Elias finally realised that the man was simply scared of heights.

An impasse followed. They each considered their next move. It was Andrei who decided first. He switched his stun gun to the hand already anchoring him to the hatchway frame, then crouched and reached behind him for Anna, all without taking his eyes off Elias. He dragged her by her ankle towards him, the masonry scraping over the cabin floor. He positioned her so that she was balanced on the hatchway rim, then put his foot upon her back, ready to push her forwards out of the cabin to tumble down onto the platform step and fall from there to her certain death. Then he grinned at Elias, challenging him to act.

Elias felt sick. He didn’t stand a chance against the man. But Anna was gazing pleadingly at him and so he couldn’t do nothing either. It wasn’t in his nature. He adjusted his grip on the wing strut then edged closer to Andrei. He set his feet and flicked out a jab at his face. Andrei swayed back out of range then reached his chin tauntingly forward to offer Elias another shot. He threw a second jab. Andrei snatched at his wrist, but Elias was too quick.

Andrei rocked Anna a little closed to the edge with his foot. She yelled into the tape over her mouth, yet it wasn’t the yell of terror Elias would have expected, but rather one of determination and exhortation. At the same time, she was working her hands back and forth in a frantic effort to free them. She might even manage it, too, for in his hurry Andrei had done a shoddy job, and she almost had one hand free already. Elias had no idea what she meant to do with it, but there was such purpose on her face that it gave him heart. His job was to buy her time. He flicked out another jab, catching Andrei on his cheek. The man only grinned, goading him into trying again. Elias’s fingers were growing icy from the altitude, but he reset his grip once more anyway then edged closer and threw yet another punch.