Granny met up with Liz Montgomery at the Phoenix pub in Central London and they strolled into St. James’s Park. Liz was on assignment to do a follow-up piece for the Guardian newspaper about the whistleblower Edward Snowden. She briefly embraced Granny, but she was distracted and aloof. They strolled over into the park. Finally, Liz took Granny’s arm as they walked through the gorgeous Buckingham Palace Flower Beds on their way toward the Blue Bridge.
“Please tell me you have news for me about Deva.”
“It’s nothing definitive, but I may have a lead as to her whereabouts,” Granny said. “Ji-Yeon had been coordinating the security for some rock concerts in Europe which took place yesterday. Terrorists struck at three of the venues, but they were quickly neutralized. I came within a hundred yards of him, but he escaped from the grounds outside the Terme di Caracalla ruins in a helicopter. Earlier in the day I had brushed up against him, without him seeing me, and put a tracking device on him.”
That stopped Liz dead in her tracks. Her voice had a rising hope in it. “So, you do know where Deva is?”
“If our intel is correct, she is being held somewhere in Russia. At least, that was the last sighting of her. But there’s no guarantee I’ll find her.”
As they walked, Granny brought Liz up to speed about the events that had transpired in Rome and in the other five European countries. He added that even though she was a noted journalist, she could not print a word of the story. She said she understood. Robert McCall had invited Granny to the Dorchester Hotel for a council of war. He told Liz about Hayden Vallance, a mercenary who sometimes did work for McCall when it suited him. He had been at the conference in the Dorchester Hotel with Granny and McCall. He might have the intel to get them to Russia. Hayden Vallance would wait for them on a hilltop overlooking the Chateau, but Granny and McCall would be virtually on their own. Whether he would accompany them after that, that was up to McCall. There was only so far Granny could trust Hayden Vallance, but he would get them as far as Murmansk. They would be flying out early in the morning.
“There’s no guarantee we’ll find Deva or Daniel,” Granny said, “but it’s the only shot we’ve got.”
A silence stretched between them as they reached the famous Bow Bridge in St. James Park. Finally, Liz said softly: “You believe Robert McCall will see you through this?”
“He’s the only one who could.”
“You have that much faith in him?”
“He’s the best,” Granny said, simply. “But in this case the best may not be good enough. This Chateau may have been abandoned years ago. Or the people living there now could have nothing to do with Ji-Yeon or his mercenaries.”
Liz stopped at the bridge. The splendour of Buckingham Palace was seen through the trees. For a long moment she was silent, as the weight of Granny’s words resonated with her.
“You might not come back from Russia,” she said.
“Let’s just say the odds aren’t in my favor.”
Liz moved into his arms. She kissed him passionately, then broke away and nodded, a far-away in her eyes.
“Then we’d better make this night count,” she said, softly.
Control was a member of the Garrick Club which was an exclusive Private Members’ Club in the heart of London’s West End. It had been founded in 1831 and named after the renown actor David Garrick to tend to the “regeneration to the Drama”. Notable examples of the clientele included Charles Dickens, H.G. Wells, J.M. Barrie and A.A Milne. The club was home to some gorgeous paintings, drawings and sculptures. A saying in the club stated that unobjectionable men should be excluded than one terrible bore should be included. McCall had liked that sentiment. The Garrick Club remained for “Gentlemen Only”, although women guests were welcome visitors in the club these days. When McCall approached the reception desk it struck him that the old porter who was sitting behind it might have been there since 1831. McCall took a folded piece of paper from his pocket which the porter took with due solemnity.
“One of your members here at the Garrick,” McCall said, “is James Thurgood Cameron.”
The old porter nodded with a smile. “Yes. sir, Mr. Cameron has been a member here for many years. A very courtly gentleman.”
“Will you give him this note?” McCall asked. “It’s quite important.”
The old porter took the folded note and put it in front of him. “I will hand this to Mr. Cameron as soon as I see him, sir. Is there a message I can convey to him, sir? He will be here this afternoon or this evening.”
“Just see that he reads it,” McCall asked.
“I will most certainly do that, sir.”
McCall smiled at the formality of the atmosphere in the club. He left the old porter staring after him as he left the Garrick Club if he had secret knowledge that only he could impart.
Granny gazed down at Liz Montgomery as she lay sleeping naked with her back to him, her legs coiled up in the blanket. He extricated himself from her and covered her with the heavy bedspread. He leaned down and gently kissed her forehead. She did not stir. He straightened, glancing at her watch on the bedside table. It was almost five o’clock in the morning. He picked up his backpack and got it onto his shoulders, checked the Steyr 9mm pistol and put it in his pocket. There was no time for a goodbye. Granny was not big on goodbyes at the best of times. He had only one purpose and that was rescuing Liz’s sister Deva and Daniel Blake. Nothing else mattered to him. He moved to the suite door and exited without a sound. But appearances could be deceptive. Liz’s eyes were still closed, but large tears spilled down her face.
McCall met up with Granny at the back of Heathrow Airport near the Virgin Atlantic Engineering Hangar where Hayden Vallance was waiting for them. Vallance was once again flying a Global 6000 VistaJet with a 15-passenger capacity. They flew to Murmansk which was a port city sitting on a fjord at Kola Bay near the Barents Sea in Russia. Vallance had equipped them with two Heckler & Koch MPM submachineguns with 6x30mm rounds which Vallance had purchased in Germany. He also provided McCall and Granny with SFP9 Striker single-action pistols in 9mm calibre with high-performance luminescent contrast. Each of them had EES Profile NVG Foliage Green binoculars with three-tie magnification up to a hundred yards. He added two Black Tiger throwing knives. He did not know if they were going to encounter isolated pockets of resistance or if they were going to be facing an armed contingent of Russian troops.
Granny smiled as he laid out the armaments. “Vallance knows how to throw a party.”
“He sent me into Afghanistan with everything I needed to rescue that Army Captain Josh Coleman,” McCall said. “I didn’t get the job done.”
Granny glanced over at him, not liking what he was hearing. “I understand you got him almost to Aleppo before the insurgents closed in.”
“It wasn’t good enough.”
Granny had noted these mood swings in McCall before. He had some of the same doubts and fears. But he was glad that he did not have to aspire to such heights of nobility. After all, he thought, McCall was the only man Granny had evet met who was a real hero.
In Murmansk they landed at the airport where they switched over to an OH-58 Kiowa Warrior, single engine four-bladed helicopter with advanced visionics, navigation and weapons with integrated systems. It was an older model which why Vallance had acquired it at a bargain price. Both McCall and Granny had changed into Woodland Camo field jackets and hunting insulated jeans. Twenty minutes later they had taken off again. Vallance angled over the town of Pylos in the Privolzhsky District of Russia on the Volga River. McCall could see the old fort in the little town with its market stalls and the magnificent Church of the Resurrection. There was a museum dedicated to the landscape painter Isaac Levitan and the Tree of Love, two pine trees with one branch accreting them. Fourteen minutes later Vallance set down on a grassy slope in the densely wooded forest. Half a mile from them was the impressive Chateau Krarzinski with its elegant courtyard and balconies above three archways, library windows that overlooked the extensive patios, stables, a chapel and several marble fountains. A narrow suspension bridge led to the Chateau on the lake.
McCall and Granny jumped down to the ground. They both held Heckler and Koch submachineguns and carried SFP9 9mm pistols. Hayden Vallance stepped to the cockpit door.
“I’ll give you forty minutes,” he said. “If you are not back here by then, I’ll take off, make sure there are no troops I can see in Pylos, swing back in an arc and land back at the place I left you. After that, I will give it another half-an-hour unless I hear all hell is breaking up at the Chateau. My intel says that the place will be heavily guarded. Get into the Chateau and get out again. Hopefully with Deva Montgomery and Daniel Blake. Or you my find their bodies somewhere buried in the woods.”
“Any other words of wisdom you have for us?” Granny asked, ironically.
“I used to like that old Hill Blues TV series,” Vallance said, “where the Desk Sergeant would read the roll call and say: ‘Be careful out there.’”
“Let’s go,” McCall said, shortly.
He and Granny ran down the grassy slope and plunged into the woods. It took them only five minutes to emerge at the suspension bridge. It was deserted. As far as McCall could see there was no one at the Chateau. He and Granny communicated with hand signals only. They ran across the bridge. McCall crouched down with Granny beside him. They waited in the stillness. No one moved in front of the Chateau. It did look as if it had been abandoned. They gave it another five minutes, then McCall indicated they should split up. McCall went first, following a path in front of the stables and the rose gardens that took him around to the back of the Chateau
Granny consulted his Diver’s quartz watch, allowed twenty more seconds to pass, then he ran along the lakefront past the white-framed chapel and the courtyard onto the grounds. He reached the front of the Chateau with its intricate balconies and covered walkways.
A uniformed guard turned the corner of the building.
Granny crouched down beside a three-tier marble fountain where a naked wood nymph was spewing water. The guard was dressed in a Gorka yellow-leaf KLMK oak camouflage Spetsnaz uniform with a Spetsnaz Scorpion patch on one shoulder. On the other shoulder he had a Russian Special Forces Battalion Patch with a fierce lion with bared fangs. Granny realized these were not Russian uniforms but a modified version that the guards wore. The man carried an AK-47 rifle.
Granny tackled him and brought him down to the ground. The rifle skittered along the flagstones in front of the Chateau. Granny tried to grab it, but the guard brought a crushing blow against Granny’s face, almost smashing his cheekbone. He wrapped his arms around Granny’s throat and applied pressure until Granny was gasping for air. There was a ringing in his ears that was exacerbated by his senses rushing away from him.
He saw a blur of movement and the choking sensation lessened. Granny rolled over, still fighting for breath. The guard slumped over into unconsciousness. McCall reached out for Granny, dragging him to his feet. McCall held him in a steadying grip, allowing him to get air back into his lungs. He gestured to the unconscious guard. Granny nodded. They carried him into the shrubbery at the lake’s edge. Granny knew they would be better off just breaking the guard’s windpipe, but that was not McCall’s style. McCall motioned to the back of the Chateau. We go in there. Granny nodded. They ran, crouched low, then pulled up when they heard the unmistakable sound of a helicopter rotor. McCall pulled Granny into the bushes. They did not have long to wait. The helicopter appeared over the Chateau, angling down to the roof of the building. It powered down and the rotor blades slowly came to a stop. Ji-Yeon stepped out onto the flat roof. McCall knew that hand signals were not going to cut it. He gripped Granny’s elbow.
“Not your fight anymore,” McCall said, softly. “We came to get Deva and Daniel Blake. At least we know we are in the right place. We go into together. I will take care of Ji-Yeon. Are we clear on that?”
It took a moment for Granny to respond as he gazed up to where Ji-Yeon was talking to three members of his entourage who had also stepped away from the helicopter. Then he nodded. He and McCall ran from the grassy verge to the patio area at the back of the Chateau. French doors opened into the house. McCall and Granny accessed the back entrance which was not locked. They found themselves in shadowy darkness. A corridor led down to a front reception area. Moonlight streamed through the picture windows where a marble staircase led up to the upper floors. A computer sat on the reception desk. Granny quickly accessed it and brought up a schematic diagram of the Chateau. The rooms and corridors were all displayed. McCall leaned in, tapping the relevant data. He indicated the big staircase that led down to the floor below. Granny nodded and held up five fingers. Give me five minutes to find out if the basement rooms are locked or not. McCall nodded. He made sure they both had their walkie-talkies to communicate. Granny killed the image on the computer screen. He moved quickly to the staircase and descended it. McCall climbed the staircase toward the second floor.
They did not have much time.
Granny reached the basement area in the Chateau which was in shadow. He listened for a moment, but there was no sound of a guard stationed down there. The lower floors had several rooms including a music room, an office, which was deserted and a well-stocked wet bar with mirrored walls. All of them were in shadow. From the schematic diagram he had brought up onto the computer screen, Granny knew there was a room at the back of the house which had access to the lake. It was locked with a padlock. Granny took his walkie and spoke softly into it.
“Got a locked door in the basement area. Going to open it.”
McCall’s voice echoed from his walkie. “Copy that.”
Granny put away the walkie and knelt at the heavy wooden door. He listened, but there was no sound at all. He realized that the room within was probably soundproof. He set down the Heckler & Kock submachinegun on the polished parquet floor and took out some skeletal keys from a leather pouch in his pocket. He knelt at the door and went to work on the lock.
McCall reached the top of the marble staircase on the second floor. Moonlight streamed through the big windows, although the corridor outside the rooms was shrouded in shadow. A man was walking down the corridor carrying a modified AK-12 Russian assault rifle chambered with 39mm cartridges. McCall recognized him as one of the last of Samantha Gregson’s mercenaries, Aleksanteri Karjala. Before the terrorist could even react, McCall tackled him, knocking the assault rifle out of his hands. Karjala lunged for McCall who avoided his blows and slammed the mercenary into a wall. He brought the man down to his knees and came around him. He wrenched the terrorist’s head to one side and heard his neck snap in the stillness. There had been no time for him to use any finesse. He wrapped his arms around the man’s legs and carried him into one of the libraries on the second floor. McCall dumped him behind a couch and closed the door.
Four minutes and counting.
It took Granny thirty seconds to jimmy the lock on the basement door. He put away his skeletal tools and opened it. The room was sparsely furnished with heavy drapes sealing the light from outside. There were two people in the room, tightly bound, one lying on the carpeted floor, the second lying stretched out on a leather couch. The man on the floor did not stir. The woman was Deva Montgomery. Her dark hair was splayed out across her forehead. Granny recognized the prison garb she was still wearing, as if they were stylish pajamas. She looked up in the darkness with the heavy drapes closed, not recognizing him at first. He was just another tormentor who had beaten her, maybe several times.
Granny moved through the stillness of the room until Deva Montgomery could see his face properly in the dim light. Even then, he was not sure she recognized him. She stirred, at first cowering away from him. Her prison tunic was lying open across her chest. Granny saw that her breasts had many discolored bruises on them. There were large welts across her stomach. Her right eye had been almost closed and there were contusions on her face and her arms.
Granny set down the Heckler and Koch submachinegun on the parquet floor and knelt beside her. “I don’t know if you will recognize me, Deva, because Ji-Yeon had already isolated you in the prison camp. But I am going to get you out of here.”
She was staring up at him, disoriented, as if she did not understand.
“Keep still.”
Granny took out a stiletto knife from his belt. She flinched involuntarily and he reached out to calm her. “I am going to cut away these restrains from your wrists. Okay?’
She finally nodded, looking at his face. “You were in the prison camp,” she said, her voice hoarse and guttural. “You were there with my sister Liz. She said you had a funny name.”
“It’s Granny,” he said. “Keep very still. I don’t want this knife to touch your skin.”
She nodded again. The knife was razor sharp and cut away the bonds. Deva brought her wrists together and gently massaged them. She sat up a little straighter on the couch, then was seized by a coughing fit. Granny held onto her.
“You’re all right?”
“Asthma. It comes and goes. Usually when I am stressed.” Granny steadied her, but she waved him away. “You’re here alone?”
“I’m here with a man named Robert McCall. He destroyed the North Korean prison camp.”
Deva’s voice rose a notch in alarm. “It was destroyed?”
“Wiped off the face of the earth. The prisoners escaped and that included your sister Liz and the other western prisoners being incarcerated there. Long story, but we came back here to find you.”
An edge of panic touched her voice. “But there are only two of you?”
“There is a third man of the team waiting for us in a helicopter in the trees beyond the Chateau. It is a lot for you to take in. Take a deep breath. You are going to be okay now.”
“There are guards in the house and on the grounds,” she said.
“Yeah, we’ve run into a couple of them. Just stay with me. Can you stand?”
Her voice was getting stronger. “Yes.”
“Okay, I’ll help you up.”
Shakily Deva got to her feet. Somewhat self-consciously she pulled her prison uniform down across her breasts with a shaking hand. Gingerly Granny helped her button the buttons on the tunic. She looked over at Daniel Blake who lay on his side in the dimness of the room.
“Daniel was beaten repeatedly,” Deva whispered. “I don’t know if he is conscious. They were very cruel to him. Like animals.”
“I’ll check him out,” Granny said. “Stay right here on the couch. Don’t move until I can put an arm around you.”
“I can stand,” Deva insisted.
“All right.”
“Where is your friend Mr. McCall?”
“He’ll meet us directly.”
Granny grabbed his 9mm submachinegun and moved to where Daniel Blake lay in the darkness of the room. He looked at the Omega chronometer on his wrist.
Four minutes and counting.