Blood Born

Chapter 42

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Martin parked the van by the back entrance to the playing fields that were adjacent to number six Fell Lane.  They could cross there and then Alan could make his way through the gardens to number one.  They had gone over the details of what had to be done several times.  Martin knew the number to call and what to tell his former cohort Sous-Lieutenant Hristic, but most importantly - he knew how long to wait.

They negotiated the gate with ease and traveled along the fence line to reduce the chance of being spotted.  Alan employed all the guile he could, to redirect any eye upon them.  As they drew near to the dark midfield of the soccer pitch drawn out to their left, Alan stopped and turned to Martin.  

He whispered.  "You've trusted me so far, and I've delivered.  I need you to trust me again.  Let me have the pistol back - I have to go ahead.  You stay here."

Martin considered it for a moment and then passed over the handgun, and the extra magazine of explosive rounds.  He was easier to sway now that Alan had full movement capability, but Alan didn't want Martin a walking automaton like Ofælia had turned him into:  he wanted the man lucid, honest, and above all not legally culpable.  If Alan had deceived him, he had a defense - and he needed a good defense because his testimony to the authorities would be part of the web of deception Alan would weave to ensure his escape.  Martin had to be a victim, not a perpetrator - that was his role.

"I may need that FAMAS later, but for now you keep it.  If you hear gunfire then that would probably be a bad thing.  Come immediately and do whatever you can to save Adèle:  she's in a tower room.  I didn't see a tower on their place, but it's a pretty large house - it could be on the back.  It's the house closest to the main road:  number one.  Unless that happens, though, just stay low and wait.  There'll be snipers and cops all over the place!"

Martin nodded once, but said nothing.  Talk was just noise unless it served a purpose and there was nothing he could add that was productive.  Alan left him there and headed off to the house.  He abandoned his faux limp once out of Martin's sight, and stalked once more like a night hunter.

His opponents would be expecting a night incursion.  He seemed unerringly drawn to this street, so why not expect him to return?  They knew he'd be coming, unless he were dead, so they would just keep waiting.

Between him and the house were two tennis courts and a tall box hedge.  The hedge was useless for climbing, but there were two lampposts to illuminate the courts, and they were off at night.  He froze and listened.  There were sounds of movement beyond the hedge, and he could smell a man's scent and the oils on his gun.  He needed to feed, too.  Perhaps his first strike of the night could have a double purpose.  The man was at very least a trespasser.

Alan leaped like a fleeting shadow and grabbed the lamppost.  Silently he scaled it, to peer over the hedge.  There was his man - standing amidst Eve's ornamental garden - but he couldn't be alone.  Alan listened and concentrated.  There was a second set of footsteps, way off to his right in the trees.

With a powerful jump, he flew across to land next to the man on the garden path.  He touched down perfectly beside him.  The man didn't even hear him, but as he turned his way he most definitely saw him.  His jaw dropped, but the movement stopped mid-drop and instead became a yawn.  He was a regular copper, but with an armoured vest and a submachinegun.

Alan stepped past him and walked toward his compatriot in the trees.  The man in the cover looked right through him as he closed on his position.  He looked like an army sharpshooter, with a night scope and a bolt-action rifle.  He was the other guy's backup, but like his friend he couldn't react to a man he couldn't see.