Chapter 11,
10.30 a.m
The pilot flew in high over the edge of the Everglades. Sitting next to him, his employer for the day told him to circle round, while the two heavily armed men sitting behind him looked out of the windows. One of them pointed out an isolated house, looking down, the pilot could see two figures lying on a truck firing towards the house while two others were creeping into the building from another direction.
He was told to drop down low as quickly and as close to the truck as possible. He heard the helicopter doors being opened and the clicks of the fully automatic rifles the men were carrying being cocked.
As the first shot was fired the woman jumped from the truck pushing her companion in the opposite direction. The pilot did as ordered and followed the woman maneuvering to give the men the best view of their target.
He saw that the chase was over when the was a spray of blood and she stumbled losing control over her legs she fell, rolling several feet before lying motionless. He glanced over and saw a faint smile play across his employers face.
"Find a landing spot, not to close to the house." He spoke with a crisp English accent.
Landing in the clearing near to where the woman had fallen, the pilot switched off the engine as his passengers disembarked. After a quick look around he pulled out an old paper back novel that he kept for these occasions and started to read. He was paid to fly and nothing else. Whatever his clients were up to, was none of his business.
11 a.m,
"Jesus Mikey, do you know who that is?" Sam asked, he was already pushing keys on his cell phone.
"No." Michael replied, his eyes were fixed on Fiona. He forced himself to study the man Sam had been staring at so intently. A man of what looked like Middle Eastern origin, in his sixties, with thick almost completely grey hair, dressed in an expensive suit.
"No, who is he?" When he got no answer, he glanced back at his friend and tried again.
"Sam!" He raised his voice, speaking sharply. His friend held up a hand signalling him to wait.
Michael was becoming more and more frustrated, he seemed to be the only one who had absolutely no idea what was going on. Sam now had his back to him, talking in a low tone. He looked over to where Pete and Quinn sat, but decided not to go over there. He didn't trust himself to remain calm.
So, wincing in pain he hobbled closer to the window, looking out he noticed Fiona seemed even weaker than she had a few moments ago. He brought up his rifle to look through the scope so he could take a closer look.
Her head hung down, blood matted her hair and covered the side of her face, he couldn't tell if the damage was from a bullet or not. The was more blood on her top and down her left leg. Her knees sagged and by the way one shoulder was being pulled upward by the man holding onto her, it was obvious she was only upright because of his tight grip on to her arm. Changing his angle Michael turned his attention to the men.
They were grouped together talking. He lined up the sights on each one of their heads in turn, deciding on his order of fire, his finger caressed the trigger. It would be so easy.
He jerked his head back, taking his eye away from the scope. Yes, he could kill them all, but not fast enough to stop one of them killing Fiona. He wiped a hand across his face. It was only then he realized Sam was talking to him.
"Mike! Hey, Mikey!" Sam called. He had finished the phone call, to find his friend aiming a rifle out of the window. He sighed with relief when the rifle barrel dropped and Michael backed off. "I need a word. Now."
Michael scowled, he needed more than a word. He limped over to where Sam stood. "Who the hell is that guy?" He demanded, using his rifle barrel to point towards the window, he'd had enough of being kept in the dark.
" His name's Tariq Martouk. A money man for several Middle Eastern terror groups, he's on more watch lists than you are. He shouldn't even be over here. What the hell did you do to him?" Sam asked.
"I've never seen him before Sam, all I know is, I've apparently pissed him off." He had a name, but it meant nothing to him. He ran a hand through his hair, thinking back to his time in the Middle east. But he had nothing.
"Come on Mike, I know over the years you've upset a hell of a lot of people. But this guy. He's pretty unforgettable. I was on a team that tried to extract him years ago. It did not go well. He is a real nasty piece of work."
"I'm going to have to go out there." He could think of no other way to get the answers he needed. "I'll trade myself for Fi-" He began to turn away.
"Sorry Mike you can't do that." Sam spoke quietly, but firmly. He put a hand out onto Michael's shoulder.
He didn't reply, Michael just ducked his shoulder and continued to move away.
"The is a task force on it's way. Our orders are to keep him here until they arrive. If you go out there, he'll get what he wants and leave." Sam raised his voice slightly.
Michael stopped and looked back, expression guarded. "Fi is hurt. If we wait she could die." He started to move away again.
"Mike! You can't go out there" Sam took a firmer hold on the younger man's shoulder and almost pulled him off his feet.
"Let go off me Sam, I'm not going to let Fiona die for me." The was a hint of anger in his tone now.
"Yeah, well I'd like to try and keep you both alive." Sam answered. He pushed Michael back into a chair, something which under normal circumstances he wouldn't of been able to do. But with everything he had been through Michael didn't have the strength to resist.
"Sit. We need to think this through." Sam ordered. "You're not thinking clearly, when did you last eat or drink?" He got no reply, just a glare.
Looking across to where Seymour was watching the prisoners. Sam called out. "Seymour, go check what food and drink the is in the kitchen. I'll keep watch."
Seymour headed for the kitchen, a worried frown passed over his features as he glanced outside. Fiona was in plain sight, but where was his bodyguard? He frequently called him a Jackass, but the man had been with him for longer than any other employee. In fact the missing man was probably the closest he had to a real friend.
Sam, gave Michael a look that told him to stay put. Then he made his way over to where the captives sat on the floor. He knelt down to check on the wounded men, both seemed at least to be stable. As he went to stand up he thought he heard a faint buzzing noise. He paused, cocking his head slightly, realizing it was a cell phone he could hear.
"Where is it?" He asked.
"Left hand pocket on my jacket." Pete replied.
Sam pulled the phone out and held it so Michael could see. "Ok." He muttered. "Here we go." And he pressed the answer key.
.
A/N: Ok I've given you a who, next chapter will be the why. Promise not to keep you waiting too long.