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BARCELONA
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“DON’T FORGET THE PLAN,” Yves admonished the man in the passenger seat before shutting the door on the van so he could walk down the road towards the cul-de-sac where Sofia Torres was being protected.
He knew the plan he had put together over the five days since being given the job was risky in the extreme. It was all he had been able to come up with in the time available to him, however, and none of the men sent to help him had come up with anything better.
As he walked the short distance to the cul-de-sac, he mentally reviewed his plan for what seemed like the thousandth time. Every detail was engraved on his mind, and he had gone over it often enough to ensure his men knew the plan intimately, but he couldn’t help worrying that something would be forgotten, and it would be the difference between success and failure.
A minute after he turned off the main road, his phone rang. He tried not to think too consciously about the fact that he was almost certainly being watched as he reached into his jacket for his phone. Just as he tried not to think about the people watching him, he tried not to make it too obvious that he was watching the house where Sofia Torres was being protected.
**
“WHAT HAVE YOU GOT?” Jovellanos demanded as he bounded into the front bedroom, where two officers were keeping watch on the cul-de-sac. He was followed by Cortez.
“A white male, mid-to-late-thirties,” one of the officers reported while his partner continued to watch the unidentified man who was moving slowly in the direction of the house. “We spotted the weapon when he reached into his jacket for his phone. We’re searching for an I.D. now.” He played back the appropriate section of the surveillance footage on the laptop next to him.
Jovellanos silently watched the fifteen-second clip twice with Cortez before he said or did anything. “Keep watching him closely, he said finally. “I’ll send a couple of men to intercept him. There’s a chance this guy’s just a diversion, so we all need to remain alert.” Taking out his radio, he called the officers in the surveillance van. “Keep an eye out. If this guy’s been sent by Noir, he’s not going to be alone. The rest of his men are bound to be somewhere nearby.”
“Yes, sir,” came the reply as the two officers in the van re-focused their attention on the entrance to the cul-de-sac.
**
“OKAY, I’VE GOT TWO guys heading my way, both with submachine guns,” Yves said into his phone as he watched the pair walk out the front door of the house. Showing, supposedly by accident, that he was carrying a weapon was a risk, but a calculated one. Silently, he prayed that he was right, and the officers would try to arrest him, rather than simply gunning him down. “You can come in now.”
“Drop the phone and get your hands in the air!” one of the officers yelled as he and his partner cautiously approached the suspected gunman.
Relieved, Yves tried not to smile as the first part of his plan worked out just as he had hoped it would. He let out the breath he had been holding while he did as he had been instructed and lifted his hands above his head, while letting his phone drop to the ground.
**
“WE HAVE A VAN APPROACHING, sir,” came the report from the surveillance post as Jovellanos watched the events taking place just a couple of houses from where he was.
“What sort of van?” Jovellanos wanted to know.
“It’s alright,” the officer replied after a moment. “It’s just a delivery van. We’ve seen it and the driver a few times in the past week or so. He’s been checked out, he’s clean.”
“Keep watching,” Jovellanos instructed. “The rest of Noir’s men must be somewhere nearby. Don’t let them catch us by surprise.”
“Yes, sir.”
**
IN OBEDIENCE TO HIS orders, the delivery driver turned his van into the cul-de-sac and drove at a steady speed towards the end. His eyes darted nervously in every direction as he drove, but they kept coming back to the man crouched in the footwell of the passenger seat and the gun in his hand; he flinched every time the gun moved so much as a millimetre.
“Fire as soon as you get a shot,” Pierre, the gunman, called out to the men hidden in the back of the van as he took out his phone to call the driver of the second van. “We’re almost in position. Come in as soon as you hear the first shots,” he instructed unnecessarily. Almost before he had finished speaking there came a burst of sustained gunfire.
Since there was no longer any need to conceal himself, Pierre got up from his hiding place, grabbed the steering wheel, and shot the driver. With the man dead he reached across him to open the door and shove his body out, he then slid behind the wheel.
“Brace yourselves,” he called out as he accelerated.
**
IN DISBELIEF, JOVELLANOS watched as the two officers he had sent to apprehend the armed figure were cut down by a hail of bullets from the van he had been certain was safe. To make matters worse, he saw the driver of the van shoved out as it accelerated towards the house.
“All positions, we’re under attack,” he shouted urgently into his radio, not that the call was necessary since the sound of gunfire was loud enough to wake those officers who were asleep following their duty on the night shift. “I repeat, we are under attack. Team Two, continue to watch the rear. Everyone else, take up positions at the front of the house.”
Leaving Jovellanos to give his orders and direct his men, Cortez hurried downstairs to the living room, where he found Sofia behind the sofa. He had a bad feeling about what was going to happen with the van if it wasn’t stopped, and he was sure the living room was the last place in the house they wanted to be. Unceremoniously, he dragged Sofia out of the room, ignoring her demands to be told was what going on.
**
YVES WAS GLAD HE HAD been ordered to lie face down on the pavement when his men opened fire on the officers approaching him. Even knowing his men were aiming at least three feet above his head he couldn’t help flinching and praying, which he only stopped doing when the gunfire stopped and he heard the van pick up speed.
Cautiously, he lifted his head and looked around to be sure it was safe. When he saw that the two officers were on the ground and weren’t moving, he pushed himself to his feet so he could get a better look at what was going on.
The delivery van, which they had intercepted earlier that morning along with its driver, was being hit by numerous bullets but wasn’t slowing. He didn’t have time to worry about the van, though, for the two officers who had been using a supposedly non-descript van as an observation post were running towards him.
Darting over to the bodies on the ground he grabbed up the submachine gun dropped by the nearest of them and turned towards the approaching officers so he could shoot them. He stopped with his finger on the trigger as the van containing the second half of his men raced into the cul-de-sac, it ran down the two officers without slowing before taking up a position in the middle of the street.
Yves forgot about the officers the moment he saw them hit by the van, if they weren’t dead, they were at least no longer a threat to him, and instead made for the safehouse. Before he could get there a deafening crash announced that the delivery van had smashed its way into the living room, as his plan had called for it to do.
**
THE SHOCK OF SMASHING through the wall into the house stunned Pierre, and the men with him. They recovered more quickly than the officers in the living room, though, and they swarmed out of the van with their weapons at the ready.
Crouched at the side of the van, Pierre listened to the sound of gunfire as his men engaged the officers who had taken refuge behind the furniture in the living room. The officers returned fire for a short time, but it wasn’t long before the gunfire died away, telling Pierre they had all been dealt with and the living room was free of opposition.
“Numbers,” he called out to his men when the room had fallen silent.
“Two,” came back the call, closely followed by, “Four.” A moment later, in a voice that was clearly trying to control a measure of pain, came the last call, “Five.”
The numbers told Pierre that Jules, Charles, and Marcel were still alive, though Marcel was injured, while Matthieu was either dead or otherwise unable to respond.
“Two and Five, you head for the kitchen, Four, come with me.” Pierre gave his instructions crisply as he lifted his submachine gun and left the protection of the van. He felt confident after the early success of Yves’ plan and had to force himself not to become overconfident.
While Jules and the injured Marcel headed for the kitchen, which he wasn’t even sure had anyone in it, Pierre gestured for Charles to approach the dining room from the opposite side to him. In order to keep his partner safe, he fired a long burst through the partly open door while Charles moved closer. They then swapped roles, with Charles providing cover for Pierre as he approached the dining room.
There was a single burst of return fire from the dining room that was cut off abruptly, suggesting the gunman had been hit.
Once Charles had reloaded and was ready to cover him again, Pierre darted through the doorway to make sure the room was secure. He realised he had been tricked when he was forced to dive out of the way to avoid a burst of gunfire that missed him by the smallest of margins. If he hadn’t spotted movement just before the shots were fired, enabling him to dodge out of the way, he would have been killed. Remaining on the floor, he shoved a chair out of the way to try and get a clear shot at the man who had nearly ended his life.
He was so intent on the officer in the dining room with him that he didn’t see the other officer who appeared from the passage that led to the kitchen, and thanks to the covering fire being provided by Charles he didn’t hear him. He had no idea the man was there until bullets tore into his side and back.
Charles heard the gunfire in the passage but assumed it was from Jules and the injured Marcel. It was only when he saw Pierre had been hit that he realised his mistake. Cautiously, he poked his head around the doorframe and then fired a quick burst to cut down the officer in the doorway when he spotted him.
After dealing with that officer, he rolled into the room to avoid the shots from the man Pierre had been after. As he rolled, Charles emptied the remainder of his magazine, aiming below the table. Two chairs were thrown backwards by the bullets, and he saw his target had been hit, though he was still alive and returning fire.
Charles cringed away from the expected impact and scrambled back towards the door. At the same time, he fumbled to insert a fresh magazine into his weapon. He had just succeeded in doing so when a bullet slammed into his shoulder. The impact threw him backwards and snapped his head up, allowing the next two bullets to hit him under the chin and explode out the top of his head.
**
FROM HIS POSITION BEHIND the van, which had been turned sideways to provide as much protection as possible for his second team, Yves watched the front of the house. When the gunfire from the ground floor died out, he took out his mobile phone, which he had retrieved before taking cover behind the van.
Yves swore when he got no answer. He had no idea if Pierre was injured or dead, or if his phone was damaged, and that left him with no clue to what was going on in the house.
“I think we’ve got a problem,” he called out to William, who was in charge of the second team at the other end of the van.
“What sort of problem?” William called back after firing a five-round burst at the movement he spotted near the corner of the left side bedroom window.
“I can’t get hold of Pierre. You need to send some guys in to check out what’s going on and deal with those officers on the first floor.” Though he had no idea how the situation stood in the house, he knew that four of the officers assigned to protect Sofia Torres were dead. That meant there was still up to ten people left in the house, though, not including Sofia Torres, assuming the information from Jean-Paul’s contact was accurate.
Against those ten men, Yves had seven, including himself, whom he was certain could fight. That meant the situation was against him. He had no choice but to proceed, however. So long as he had men in a fit state to continue, he had to do so.
“Take three men and get in there. Find out what’s happened with Pierre and finish the job. I’ll stay here with the other two and cover you.”
**
FROM THE MASTER BEDROOM of the neighbouring house, Cortez watched the four men race from the van to the safehouse. He could tell there was still people at the van, but he guessed there was only two or three, which was a lot better than six or seven.
“Stay here,” he told Sofia as he left the bedroom and made his way out of the house, exiting through the kitchen door, whose window he had smashed so they could get in.
The effort of climbing the fence had been almost too much for him the first time he did it. The second time, he was sure it would have been easier to kick the fence down and walk over it. He was far too out of shape to be doing anything that even remotely approached that level of energetic behaviour.
Once he was over the fence, Cortez scanned the garden, his gun at the ready, in case any of the attackers were there. When he was sure the garden was clear, he made his way into the garage, where he saw that his car had survived the assault undamaged to that point. He was relieved to see that, not because he had any affection for the car, but because he needed it.
**
THE LARGE HOLE IN THE front of the house provided William and his men with an easy way into the house, and the van that had made it gave them protection from the gunfire that came from the dining room.
While William and one of his men provided covering fire, filling the dining room doorway with gunfire, the other two moved forward to take up positions on either side of it. They then took up the role of keeping the officer’s head down while William and the other man approached. Within a minute of them entering the house, the officer in the dining room had been dealt with.