Ryan grabbed Martin’s file off the desk. As he passed Collins, the assistant director stopped him.
“Good job so far, Agent Stone. Continue to keep me informed. And do not screw this up. That kid dies, so does your career.”
“Understood, sir,” Ryan snapped a salute and quickly followed Hawkins out to the car. He thought about telling the man he didn’t need threats to motivate him on that front, but what would be the point? Collins wouldn’t understand.
“He giving you a hard time?” Hawkins asked over her shoulder, as he caught up.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” he replied.
“Good. You get the file?”
“Right here.”
“Perfect. I’ll drive, you read,” she swung into the driver’s seat. “You’ve got 45 minutes to get through that.”
“Very funny,” he buckled his seatbelt.
“Not kidding,” she smiled coolly.
“Guess I better get started then,” he muttered. He paused for a moment, “Just for the record, I think Collins was pretty harsh back there. He could have at least given you some credit.”
“I don’t need any kindness from him,” Hawkins snorted, her words dripping with disdain.
Clearly there was no love lost on either side of that relationship. Sighing, he opened the file and started skimming as Hawkins threw the car into gear and peeled out of the NIA parking structure. Turning on to the highway, Hawkins headed out of the city, towards the isolated backroad indicated on Duane’s map. As the bright lights faded behind them, she turned to him,
“Come on,” she prompted. “Talk to me; read and talk. I need to know all of this before we get there.”
He thought about asking if she was serious, but he was starting to catch on to the fact that she was always serious about things like this. So, he decided not to waste his breath,
“It’s not good, Hawkins. This guy is not at all like his cousin; he’s not a moron, he’s a real threat. He worked recon and counterintelligence in the army. Apparently, he was very good, but not what you’d call a stickler for military regulations, or morals, or human decency for that matter. He was dishonourably discharged for unspecified offenses; offenses so confidential that even NIA doesn’t have access, which probably means he did something extremely unsavoury.”
“Lovely,” Hawkins sighed. “Sounds like a real prize.”
“Yeah, well that’s not even the half of it,” Ryan flipped the page and kept reading. “He’s been arrested multiple times since his stint in the army ended. There is an escalating pattern of violence. It started with theft, aggravated assault, home invasion robbery, attempted murder, murder… It’s a long list. But he has managed to beat the rap for all of the more serious charges. Lack of evidence. This guy will not hesitate to kill Alex Pauling if it benefits him in any way. The prison shrink from his last stay in the joint noted in the file that he has no regard for the consequences of his actions beyond their benefits to him. He’s dangerous, he has a hostage and some very good training. This isn’t going to be easy, Hawkins.”
She smiled grimly,
“Where would the fun be if it were?”
“I don’t know, I find breathing plenty fun,” he replied.
“Wuss,” she shot back.
Hawkins spun the wheel and pulled off the road.
“Ok, we’ll walk from here,” she popped open her door and headed into the lightly wooded area to the right of the main road.
“The place is an old house, it used to be called Blackwood Manor, but it was abandoned after a major fire that killed the entire family and severely damaged the structure. No one has lived out here for a long time,” Ryan had looked the place up before he went to see Collins.
Hawkins nodded, and then led the way through the trees.
“Standard search pattern. I’ll go in first. Watch out for anything that he’s got set up in there; he has the home court advantage and there is no telling how paranoid this guy is, especially because of his background. And remember, whatever happens, you get the boy and get him out of there. Ready?”
“Hey, I’m not a rookie. Let’s do this. We get this guy, get the kid back and we’ll be home before the evening news,” Ryan unsnapped his holster and slid the gun into his hand; its weight and coolness were reassuring.
Hawkins, he noticed, left her gun holstered. He remembered from her file that she wasn’t too keen on firearms, she carried a gun, but if the reports were accurate, she had never fired it. Just like back in The Black Stallion. He wondered if he could count on her to have his back, if it came down to it. You couldn’t trust an agent who was afraid of their own weapon. The thought made him apprehensive, but he pushed it out of his mind, this really wasn’t the time to be thinking about things like that. So, Ryan tried to center himself in the moment. He needed to focus, this was one of the most dangerous parts of the job and everything depended on clearing his mind, on not missing a thing. It had been only hours since he’d been blindsided in The Black Stallion and his bruised face served as a potent reminder that he had something to prove today, he didn’t want to screw up again.
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Finally, they broke through the trees and Blackwood manor loomed ahead. Hawkins motioned for him to follow her around to the back. As he approached, the slanted rays of the setting sun illuminated the smoke damage that wreathed the exterior walls like climbing vines. But that seemed to be the extent of the exterior damage, otherwise the house was largely intact, and it was likely that no one would have noticed that there was anything wrong with it at all. As they turned around the east side however, it was a different story; here a large section of the wall had collapsed, and looking in through the gap, Ryan could see that the interior had taken the brunt of the damage. This was the charred ruin of a once beautiful home.
“We’ll go in this way,” Hawkins whispered, motioning to the breach in the wall.
Ryan nodded silently, following her lead. As they approached the gap, she slid a flashlight from her belt, it cast a strong beam of light through the gathering gloom.
“Are you sure that’s wise? It may tip him off,” Ryan whispered urgently.
At the same moment, Hawkins froze abruptly in her tracks; her right arm shot out and caught him across his chest, stopping him too.
“No, this would have tipped him off,” Hawkins bent down, her fingers seemed to gently caress the air. Looking more closely, Ryan saw an almost invisible strand of fishing line that ran across the gap in the wall.
“Apparently, we weren’t the only ones who thought this was a good point of entry,” Ryan murmured.
The line ran into the darkness and, Ryan noted with alarm, ended at the trigger of a shotgun, its muzzle trained on the narrow gap in the wall. Hawkins retrieved a knife from her belt and cut the line, then she stepped gingerly into the gloom. Deciding that she had a point, Ryan snapped on his own flashlight, letting its beam dance over the charred hardwood floors as he walked. Most of the furniture was absent from the house, likely removed by the firefighters in the attempt to knock down the fire. He had a mental picture of the vast lawn covered in a pile of ruined furniture. There was an eerie vibe to the house, like a graveyard at night; a place that was on such intimate terms with death that living things were intruders. Hugging opposite walls, he and Hawkins skimmed their lights along the floor, looking for any more surprises that their host might have left. Clearing the first room, they moved on to the next. This was obviously meant to be the main entrance of the house. A pair of massive double doors opened to a staircase, which led up to the second floor. Though once grand, the stairs were now crumbling and there were sizable chunks missing in many places. There were no traps required here, Ryan reflected, the stairs were a death trap all on their own. Hawkins paused at the bottom of the stairs, listening intently. Ryan stopped too, trying to figure out what had caught her attention; then he heard it, the muffled sound of voices from up the stairs, accompanied by a strange, flickering glow. For a moment, this confused him; it was obvious that this place had no electricity and there was only supposed to be one adult in the house, but after a moment he realised that it must be a cell phone or laptop. He felt a little rush as he realized that the kidnapper was still in the house. Hawkins gestured and they both began to carefully ascend the dilapidated stairs. Nearing the top, the jarring music and goofy voices of a cartoon were evident, coming from the room at the end of the hall. Maybe this would be easy after all, he thought, the kid was here, and Andre Martin would be too. They could catch him by surprise, hook him up and get the hell out of here. The thought had barely finished crossing his mind when he stepped up onto the next stair, and, with a sickening crack, the charred wood gave way and his left leg disappeared up the hip.
Hawkins spun and Ryan could see her swearing under her breath as she darted back and grabbed him by the wrist, helping him back up and onto a solid stair. Then they both froze and listened, the cartoon had gone silent, and they could hear a man’s voice now,
“Hey kid,” a man growled. “Get over here.”
There was silence for an instant, Ryan heard a loud crack and the thud of something hitting the ground.
“I told you to get over here, you spoiled little brat. You do what I say! There is someone in this house and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you out of my sight for a minute. Nobody is going to cost me my payment, least of all you!”
Loud footsteps moved towards the hallway. Hawkins pulled Ryan back down the stairs, and they darted into the first room they came to. While the others had been empty, this one was still filled with heavy, wooden bookshelves, which had likely once held an impressive collection. Now they were empty, the skeletal remains of a library. Hawkins froze again, hearing the sound of footsteps on the stairs. She let her flashlight dance around the room, and Ryan could see something glitter in the beam, another strand of fishing line stretched across the floor just steps from a large, open gap that had once been a window. It seemed that Martin had covered all the points of easy ingress with traps, to keep people from getting in unnoticed, or alive. Martin was cautious, a bad sign. As the footsteps drew nearer, Hawkins turned to him,
“Hide,” she hissed, slipping into the shadows behind one of the bookcases.
Ryan followed suit, managing to find another place to conceal himself just an instant before Andre Martin entered the room, a gun in one hand and a sobbing little boy in the other. From his hiding spot, Ryan could see that the slap he heard earlier had left a red welt on the side of Alex’s face, it made his stomach turn. Martin dragged the boy over to the window, where he checked his trip wire.
“I know you’re in here,” he shouted, looking around the room. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that it’s rude not to introduce yourself to the lord of the manor?”
Ryan held his position, and it was clear that Hawkins was doing the same. But Martin wasn’t buying it.
“Not interested in meeting me? OK, how about this, then,” his face darkened. “How about whoever is in here comes out now, or the kid gets it!”
He pressed the gun roughly into the boy’s shoulder; Alex whimpered in pain.
“No one here?” Martin asked mockingly. “Then I guess no one will mind. I mean, I never said I would send him back in one piece, did I?”
Ryan was certain that he would do it, too. He wouldn’t kill him, but he could injure this poor boy badly if they didn’t do something now. He was about to reveal himself, when Hawkins stepped around the corner and into sight.
“Alright, you got me,” she said bleakly. “Just, don’t hurt the kid.”