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-3-
Ambush
Alice, clad in a light and navy blue uniform, spooned mouthful after mouthful of cereal into her mouth, not sparing anyone a glance, let alone a “Good morning!”
Blackberry resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he leaned against the window sill of the almost empty kitchen. It was, compared to the rest of the house, relatively small and not a kitchen in the usual sense. The walls were wood-padded and a large table took up most of the room. The actual kitchen was behind a small, inconspicuous door. Occasionally, a servant hurried to or from it, nodding to Blackberry. None of them seemed particularly fazed by Alice’s grumpiness. They were probably used to it.
One of the servants had offered him breakfast which he politely declined. Having already eaten all that was necessary from his personal supply, he wasn’t going to take any chances with Chairman Morris.
He glanced out the window he was leaning against, large, clear glass panes. The room was slightly below ground level, the windows seeming more like doors than what they actually were. Despite being numerous and taking up most of one wall, they did little to illuminate it, leaving the room and it’s occupants in a gloomy semi-darkness. A gap less cloud cover did little to help, but Blackberry didn’t mind. No rays of sunlight to blind him, restricting his movements, and no shadow to betray him.
His attention returned to the girl as she sat back without a warning. She had barely pushed the bowl away from her when the butler entered, his dark suit as tidy and spotless as it had been the night before. In his hands was a backpack that looked both expensive and not very comfortable, the initials A.M. engraved into the leather. A solemn look on his face, he offered it to the girl whose lips were pressed together in a thin line.
“Miss Alice, it is time to go.“
Alice rose, taking the backpack from his hands.
“Goodbye, Mr. Dunner,“ she muttered, her expression softening momentarily.
The butler let himself be carried away to half a smile.
“Until the next holidays, Miss Alice.“
The girl sputtered softly as the blood drained from her face. She did not reply, not even as Blackberry stepped forward, gently pushing her towards the door.
He jerked himself out of those thought with a shake of his head, pushing both his father and his childhood to the back of his mind just as Chairman Morris stepped down the stairs and in front of them.
Blackberry suppressed a sigh. He had been hoping to avoid that particular meeting.
“Mr. Blackberry,” Chairman Morris greeted him, “I trust you’ll do your job well.”
A lot better than you think, Blackberry thought, but merely offered a suppliant “Yes, sir.” He had no intention of shaking up the image Chairman Morris had of him just yet.
He needn’t have worried, Morris was no longer paying attention to him. He had turned to Alice who regarded the man with such obvious dislike that Blackberry was tempted to elbow her in the side.
Morris’ faux smile faltered under her glare.
“Well,“ he hesitated, “Goodbye.“
Her face hardening, Alice pulled back her shoulders, rising to her complete height.
“Goodbye, stepfather,“ she said, her voice cold as steel.
She turned on her heel, throwing open the front doors with a lot more force than necessary.
Blackberry nodded to Chairman Morris and followed her, forbidding himself to even think an exasperated Teenagers…
A dark limousine was already waiting for them, flanked by a uniformed chauffeur who opened Alice’s door for her. Blackberry slid into the seat behind the driver, seizing up the interior of the car with a few practiced looks. The motor hummed quietly as the limousine sprang to life, pulling out of the drive-way and into the wide streets beyond.
Alice stared out the window, her arms crossed in front of her chest, jaw set.
Blackberry was quite content that way. He, too, looked out the window, watched the scene of the previous evening reverse itself as high society villas slowly gave way to more suburban homes and finally grass-covered hills.
Blackberry felt the muscles in his back begin to clench; whatever was coming, it was coming soon.
He glanced at Alice’s skirt.
“Can you run in that?“
She followed his gaze, pulling the fabric over her knees with one hand.
“I’ll manage.“
He nodded and turned his attention back to the road, his eyes riveted on some point in the distance that only he appeared to see.
They passed through a forest of dark and sinister trees which opened into wide meadows. Alice fidgeted restlessly, the soft rustle of fabric against leather grating on Blackberry’s already taunt nerves. It was only marginally less distracting when the girl started to talk, chattering away about something or other. Blackberry, his arm raised against the window as he stared at the road ahead, was only barely aware she was speaking to him at all, occasionally making a non-committal sound in what appeared to be appropriate places. Alice didn’t seem to notice, but when Blackberry reached down between his feet and heaved the small bag into his lap for a last-minute check, she turned to face him so suddenly he was almost caught off-guard.
Her lower lip was quivering.
“When do you think it’s going to happen?“
He hushed her with a gesture of his hand, his eyes not leaving the back of the chauffeur’s neck.
Alice followed his gaze.
“He can’t hear us,“ she said, “The glass is soundproof. You have to activate a mike.“
Blackberry shook his head.
“Yes. But he can see us.“
She raised an eyebrow.
“And?“
“And you’re awfully talkative at the moment. Judging from your behaviour yesterday, you usually aren’t.“
She fell silent, but only for a moment.
“Yeah, well, he only ever sees me on my own or with Mr. – my stepfather.“
She hesitated.
“You don’t think he has anything to do with it, do you?“ she asked, her eyes wide.
“I don’t know. But I’m not going to take risks.“
Alice stared at him for a moment.
“Please,“ she finally said, lifting her hands into the air, “I need to take my mind off you-know-what. You said I shouldn’t show that I’m nervous, but if I keep thinking about it, I’m going to vomit or faint or break down in tears!“
She’s taking it well…
Blackberry sighed.
“Fine.“
Pushing her hands back into her lap, he gave her a look.
“But no gesturing. Act like you’re having a polite but not very exciting conversation.“
She beamed at him, then quickly bit her lip and stared out the window, not without a quick glance to the driver.
“So, do you have a girlfriend? A wife?“ she asked, apparently addressing her question at a flock of sheep in the distance.
“No,“ Blackberry replied, one hand still in his bag, drifting over the items inside.
Bowie knife, CZ-75, Glock, cell phone-“Do you have a boyfriend?“ Alice interrupted his survey, glancing at him over her shoulder.
“No,“ Blackberry replied, not quite able to keep the exasperated tone out of his voice.
“Sorry,“ she muttered at a second’s hesitation, „I didn’t mean to insult you or anything.“
“You didn’t,“ Blackberry assured her, only half listening.
Knife, CZ-“So, why were you sent to protect me?“
“Because I’m the best.“
“At least you’re not too modest or anything,“ he heard her mutter.
Knife-“And why does the ACP… the CAP… your organisation send the best just to protect me?“
The not too polite answer already on Blackberry’s lips was cut short as the limousine suddenly screeched to a halt.
Alice sat up abruptly, her eyes unnaturally wide.
Blackberry tightened his grip around his CZ and reached his other hand into the bag as well, fingering for his knife.
The mike gave a soft crackle as the driver turned around to speak to them through the glass pane.
“There’s a branch across the road, sir,“ he said.
“And you can’t drive around it?“ Blackberry inquired, his eyes searching their surroundings through the darkened windows.
“No, sir, it’s too big.“
“Take another route to the school, then.“
The driver smiled a crooked smile.
“There isn’t, sir. I’ll have to drag it off the road.“
Blackberry started.
“No, don’t you-“ he began, but the driver had already undone his seatbelt and pushed the door open, stepping out onto the pavement.
Blackberry rolled his eyes in frustration, only half managing not to groan.
Cursing under his breath, he slammed his hand down on the arm rest.
Why do they never listen?Alice’s eyes were fixed on him, half anxious, half curious.
“You think this is an ambush, don’t you?“ she said, her voice quivering slightly, „Why?“
Blackberry gave her an incredulous look.
“Do you see any trees around here?“
She gasped, reaching for the handle of the door. Blackberry knocked her back into the seat with his outstretched arm.
“We have to warn him!“ she exclaimed, “You can’t just let them kill him.“
Blackberry turned his head to look at her, slowly.
“He killed himself the minute he stepped out of this car. I’m not letting him kill you too.“
He could hear her breathing heavily, taking deep, forced breaths as they watched the chauffeur through the front windshield. They could see him leaning down, disappearing from view behind the hood of the car.
He never reappeared.
A soft groan was all they heard, followed by the almost soundless slump of something limp as it hit the pavement.
Blackberry clasped his hand over Alice’s mouth barely in time before she started to scream, a shrill, piercing sound that awakened the sudden urge in him to knock her unconscious.
“Quiet,“ he hissed, “If you want to survive, stay calm.“
She broke off as abruptly as she had started, staring at him with wide, white eyes.
He let go off her slowly, reaching into his bag. His fingers tightened around the Glock; the soft snap of the safety sent her spinning around.
Blackberry offered the gun to her, laying on his hand like on a tray.
“Take this.“
She stared at him, her lips quivering, but she did not move a muscle.
With a sigh, he thrust the weapon into her hand.
“It’s loaded. Whatever tries to open the door, you shoot it. Understood?“
He turned around, one hand already on the handle, when her hands dug into his shoulder, the barrel of the gun missing his face by inches.
“Don‘t point that at me!“ he hissed and she flinched, but her iron grip on his shoulder didn’t loosen.
“Are you going out there?“ she asked, her voice high and shaky.
“You can’t run faster than a bullet!“
To her and even his own surprise, Blackberry smiled.
“Maybe not. But I can run faster than the sniper.“
He could hear a sputtered exclaim as he jammed his gun into the back of his belt, threw open the door and ran. He crossed the street in the blink of an eye, tearing across the open fields toward the forest, dodging and ducking, never moving where someone might expect him too. He could hear the sharp hiss of a bullet above him, could almost sense the sniper’s eyes on him, and then he was between the trees, entering a dim world of twilight. Leaves above him filtered the dim light, giving his surroundings an almost eery green glow. His eyes adjusted quickly as he reached for his gun; he was prepared.
The man right in front of him wasn’t. It took him a moment to realize the person he was supposed to get rid off was standing right in front of him, weapon raised. It was a moment too long. Blackberry side-stepped him easily, turning toward him, raising his arm. His opponent, caught off guard, did the same in a futile effort to defend himself.
Blackberry brought the butt of his weapon down hard, a fleeting smirk crossing his face as he heard a bone shatter. With one flowing movement he pulled it back, smashing it against the base of the man’s skull; he flopped to the ground like a marionette whose strings have been cut.
One down, the rest to go…Stepping back into the undergrowth, he seemed to merge with it, simply disappear. His steps seemed too soft to be heard, his whole body a part of his environment. He moved quickly and silently through the brush, making himself invisible behind trucks of trees, between plants. His eyes darted into every direction as he followed a small trail he had come across, keeping a safe distance of several meters until he reached a small clearing and what he had been looking for.
A car.
Black, spotless steel that reflected the dim sunlight appeared as alienated from the environment as Blackberry melted into it. It rested on the path, seemingly innocent, had it not been so sleek. Blackberry felt a stab of annoyance at the fact the assassins were driving a Mercedes. Sleek, beige leather seats, a wooden dashboard. It screamed money at him.
You’d think they were celebrities, he growled to himself, but he did it silently.
Standing motionless, his eyes were firmly set on the man leaning against the hood of the vehicle. Rather short but with strong arms, a carefully trimmed, blond-brownish beard. Curls.
Taking his eyes off his next target for a split millisecond, they travelled down to the forest floor riddled with dead leaves and short twigs. Picking out a fitting one, he placed one boot over it experimentally, then stomped down, hard.
The soft snap as the dried wood broke was barely loud enough to be heard, but the man jumped to attention nonetheless. As he raised his head, took a few tentative steps toward the trees lining the edge of the path, Blackberry reached behind him to secure the weapon in his belt. This would have to be a silent one.
As the man with the beard appeared between the trees, setting one foot in front of the other in an attempt to move silently, he pushed himself along the bark of the tree behind him, edging along just out of his line of sight. His lips were pressed tightly together so his ragged breathing wouldn’t betray him as he turned, now standing directly behind the guard. If the man turned around now, it would all be over. Blinking once, Blackberry lunged forward, his gloved fingers closing around his neck.
His grip around the man’s throat tightened as he dragged him backwards into the bushes, heard him pant and grunt as he clawed at his neck. Blackberry let himself drop to the ground and held tight as the guard turned red, his lips adopting a sickly shade of blue. Then his hands slowly dropped from his throat, his limbs as weak as if he had not just been a living, breathing being. With a silent groan, Blackberry elbowed the man off him. His fingers slid over his chest, patting his pockets until he found what he had been looking for. A smirk crossed his face again as he produced a key from the depths of the man’s clothing, letting it slide into his own pocket before he disappeared into the brush again, only the still body testifying he had ever been there at all.
One car. The tire tracks told him there was only one car. Five men, at most. Five men to take out a scared girl. Morris was bound to have warned them against him. But not as dangerous; he, after all, thought him to be worthless.
Fool.
Noise, faint and distant, caused his head to snap around. A soft smile appeared on his face, twisting the corners of his mouth upwards. It was always the need to speak.
Setting one foot in front of the other, he started to move again, following the sound as a dog follows a scent. And, just as surely, his ears led him to the cause – a relatively young man, circling around between the trees as he hissed into the walkie-talkie pressed to his lips.
“Morgan!“ he whispered urgently, “I’ve lost contact with the others. We’re the only ones left!“
He had the look of a trapped animal in his eyes as he turned left and right, his eyes searching the green foliage around him in vain. Blackberry had seen it too often to be affected by it anymore.
“Where is he?“ the man hissed into the mike, “Where is he?“
He didn’t live to hear the answer as Blackberry clasped one hand over his mouth, pressing the other to the back of his neck and twisted his head around sharply.
That only left the sniper.
He reached for the back of his pants, retrieving the gun from where it had been resting in his belt.
Snipers were easy to locate. They had to be in a place that allowed them to convey the entire scene, generally somewhere high up. And they had the tendency to freeze when trouble was brewing, hoping death might pass them by if they couldn’t be seen.
Blackberry walked slowly, the brush hiding him from wandering eyes that might chance to look in his direction. Ducked low, he followed the edge of the forest, scanning every mount and tree for his last target. His gun was in his hands; he no longer needed to stay silent. His first shot would extinguish anyone who might have heard him.
A trace of a smile lightened the stony face as he spotted the glint of light reflecting on metal, the barrel of the rifle pointing in the wrong direction. The sniper was hidden behind a rise in the ground, created by an uprooted tree. Blackberry knew he was concentrated on his weapon, too concentrated. Too concentrated to realize death had already spotted him.
He moved slowly, deliberately. Sound was his enemy now and he touched down gently. Even the rustle of a leaf could betray him now, but the man, hidden by false foliage and dirt, did not move. He was completely unaware that Blackberry was now standing right behind him, his eyes harsh and merciless.
Raising the CZ, he took his stance and pressed the barrel of the weapon against the back of his head.
Blackberry didn’t waste time on a catchy line. The sniper didn’t even have time to freeze at the touch of the cold metal before he pressed the trigger.
He stored the CZ in his belt, reaching for a handkerchief. He wiped it across his face carefully, closing his eyes for the fraction of a second. His jaw hardening, he returned the tissue back to his pocket and set off, back into the direction he had come from.
The walk across the open meadow seemed a lot shorter, now he was no longer in danger of being shot, but he walked slowly, his legs not quite under his control as they had been the past minutes. His hands, no deadly weapons anymore, were at his sides, but they weren’t calm. His fingers seemed to dance as he walked, unable to keep them still. It took him almost the entire distance to the car to regain control over them, but as he stepped onto the dark, smooth pavement, they were as calm as before.
He approached the black limousine slowly, refusing to yank open the door and be shot now. By an overzealous teenager, no less.
He paused behind the door, reaching out to the handle with one hand. He pulled it half open and, as expected, heard a sharp intake of breath.
“Alice, it’s me,“ he said softly, “Let go of the Glock.“
“How do I know it’s you?” a shaky voice inquired, slightly strained from trying to sound calm and even.
At other times, Blackberry would have admired her refusal to simply believe him. At this moment, it rather annoyed him.
He ground his teeth, his fingers tightening around the handle of the CZ as if he wanted to crush it with his bare hands.
“All right. I’m going to go stand in front of the wind-shield. Once you’ve satisfied yourself, I want you to put the gun down on the ground outside the car and then return to your seat.”
He moved around, barely concealing his exasperated sigh as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. Sure enough, the gun was placed on the concrete with trembling fingers. He waited for the rustle of clothing across leather until he walked to it, sliding it towards him with his boot before picking it up.
He sat down on the empty seat, storing both weapons in his bag. Alice, watching him intently, was pale yet unharmed.
“Are you okay?“ he asked, his voice assuming a business-like tone.
“I feel sick,“ she muttered, and he nodded in a way that would almost have been reassuring, had his face not shown the compassion of a brick wall.
“It‘s normal.“
“What about the ambush?“
Her face had hardened, seemingly uncaring, but her shaky voice betrayed her.
“It’s been taken care of,“ was all the explanation he offered.
He could see the question forming on her face, but he didn’t answer it, and she didn’t ask.
Blackberry reached up a quivering hand to brush over his forehead where, now the adrenaline was starting to fade, sweat was forming in tiny drops.
“Get your things.“
She reached for her backpack, placing it on her lap before she hesitated.
“What are we doing?“
“Leaving.“
He didn’t explain to her what he meant by it as he lead her across the open grounds, Alice casting nervous glances over her shoulders every few steps. She only relaxed when they had arrived in the woods, disappearing from view between the trees. The sight of the Mercedes seemed to drive any potential ambushings from her mind as she stepped up to the window and peered inside, hands pressed to the glass.
“I thought they were hit men, not pop stars.“
Despite himself, Blackberry smiled.
“Get in,“ he commanded, his voice curt.
Her eyebrows rose, almost disappearing at her hairline.
“Now we’re taking their car?“
“Unless you want to walk back to the city…“ Blackberry offered. He had barely finished when she already pulled open the door and let herself drop onto the passenger seat.
“What are we doing in the city?“ she asked as he, too, made himself comfortable in the car, briefly glancing over the dashboard to seize it up.
“There’s something I need to take care of.“
Or someone.
Reaching up to adjust the rear mirror, he froze as he saw the figure in the back seat, eyes the color of ice rising to meet his.
Alice glanced at him.
“What is it?“ she asked, a frown sketched deep into her face, but he just shook his head.
“Never mind. Buckle up.“
He barely heard metal clink on metal before he tightened his hold of the steering wheel, the leader creaking softly, and pressed the accelerator to the floor.
