CHAPTER TWO

Massacre!

Seventeenth July. New York.

There was something familiar about the man. He knew he had seen him before, but where or when escaped him. Stopping his car he watched as the thin man in ill fitting clothes climbed into a large black Chevy. His Russian curiosity became aroused, so as the Chevy pulled away and headed slowly toward the Manhattan Bridge, Vacily Sukoloff followed.
        The instant he crossed over the bridge the thin man went out of his way to try to distract any follower. Sukoloff had played this game for years and when at last the thin man reached the Bronx, Sukoloff was still in tow and reporting his movements to PIA headquarters.
        "Vacily!" barked Henn. "Just whereabouts are you? Follow him and report back, that’s all. I don’t want you going in single handed."
        "I’m in New York and I’m just following him."
        "Stay back! Our day is long gone, old friend, back up is here if you need it."
        "Give it a rest, Henn."
        When a short while later the Chevy stopped, Sukoloff continued, defiantly, on foot.

It was not long before he saw it; a quick flash of what could be a radio mast on a dilapidated building. Scowling he thought how easy it would be to climb the drainpipe—to creep along the small ledge—then another short climb to the roof and remove the mast. Yes,—he could do that, if he was still a fit young man.
        Whispered voices in the shadows made him dive for cover and flattening himself against a wall he listened. The voices were faint, nevertheless still audible.
        "We’ve received another message from our agent X-20, it reads. ‘PIA agent having day out. On road to New Jersey.’" After a short pause the voice continued.
        "We’ve prepared a nice little welcome for him at base D. I’m sure he’ll have plenty of information for us." The voice disappeared under the crashing reverberations of an unannounced Jumbo jet and only after the echoing roar of its engines rumbled off into the distance, the voice reached him again, this time, barely audibly.
        "...And now to current business. My sweet Sasam is being tested today. I must... Must, have a test on the efficiency of her Guardians. So put on a good show for Henn, but, make sure you keep everyone off the plate. We don’t want anything good..."
        The voice faded completely and as Sukoloff leaned forward to hear better, his foot touched an unseen can. Without wasting a second, he began to run as a shrill voice yelled out behind him.
        "A spy!... Get him!... That’s PIA’s Russian. Everyone get him!"
        Pre-programmed after so many years of active service his actions were governed by the subconscious and that rule was—you did not stop running to look back. It was a necessity he reached his car, he must warn Henn that Tretow is in danger, if not already dead.
        Turn after turn—street after street—somehow he lost his bearings and with them, the route back to his car. Dark shadows and his constant zigzagging to avoid the continuous stream of bullets from his pursuers had not helped. A fresh turn into yet another dark stinking street—his breathing forced into short, noisy, painful gasps. If he could only reach the car, he would be able to call for back up. He was running blindly now, being carried on purely by instinct.
        Between gasps, he managed a harsh laugh as he taunted himself about his current inadequacies. Baby sitting? Me? The once great agent calling for help? Maybe I’d better... And very soon.
        Deep in thought, he collided headlong with a staggering, drunken vagrant. Then a high velocity bullet whipped them around, slamming them against the street wall. Momentarily the vagrant’s weight pinned him there, then as pain whipped up Sukoloff’s arm the unfortunate hobo began to sag. It was not just from the stinging pain of his arm wound that made Sukoloff’s stomach lurch, but the sight of the faceless corpse. A bullet meant solely for him had struck the man on the side of the head exploding on impact and leaving only a red bubbling mass.
        Diving down, he flattened himself against the ground and using the hobo’s body as cover, he began to return fire. Waves of dizziness washed over him aided by loss of blood and the smell of stale sweat and urine rising from the hobo’s body. Cursing his faintness, Sukoloff forced himself to move. He had to get to his car—he must not faint!

Seventeenth July. New Jersey.

Dawn had rolled back revealing a fine and cloudless day that the sun burnished with an orange fire on every leaf and building. Its first rays creeping over the horizon to attach shadows that faded into infinity.
        The first staccato rounds of gunfire shattered a tranquil ideal urging Tretow to break and run for the cover of a nearby barn. Racing along in erratic courses and kicking up dust, he wondered how he could have got into such a situation.
        PIA Control had instructed him to merge into traffic on Second Avenue and target the green sedan. He was to follow it, report back where it went and what the two men in it got up to. This he did and the trouble started after reporting back about being led to what appeared to be a deserted farmhouse with a rather fancy microwave communications mast discreetly attached. New orders received from Control gave him instructions to find out what the farmhouse contained. Obviously something to go with the mast but what was more important, what else went with it. What organization was using it and how heavily it was manned?
        Tretow had to admit the mission had just taken a slight nose-dive as he crashed into the barn and barred the double doors with a long wooden beam. He growled angrily as he realized he had, unwarned and unprepared stumbled upon something big.
        As he regained his composure, he examined the gloomy surroundings. The sunlight that was forcing its way between the closely boarded wooden walls revealed only the silver shimmer of countless cobwebs in the dust covered corners and a neat stack of hay to one side. Without machinery of any kind in the building there was no hope of escaping James Bond fashion on a turbo-charged tractor, the barn did not even contain a pitchfork.
        "Tret, you nutcase," he said to himself. "Did you miff someone?"
        Shaking his head he stalked around the inside of the building peering out through the many holes in the planking.
        "Damn it! There’s about fifty armed-to-the-teeth men out there. Blast, I know a set up when I see one. How did they know I was coming?"
        He slumped to the floor with his back against a bale of hay and began to look totally at home. "Want to know the annoying thing?" he muttered jabbing the hay. "I didn’t actually get to looking inside. It’s fine getting caught, but before I done my job is down right annoying. Now to get out!"
        Amid growing activity outside, Tretow crawled over to the wall and gave a loud whistle, "They’re gonna burn me out! What chance have I got? If I run they’ll mow me down. Can’t call for help, Henn wouldn’t like that. Think, boy, think."

Seventeenth July, New York.

It was blind luck rather than sighted judgement that helped Sukoloff to find his car and once back behind the wheel he began to relax. Although still being pursued, the bullet-proof glass offered some protection as he headed back towards New York and safety. Then abruptly, with headquarters tantalizingly near, his luck left him. The engine spluttered and with a final cough died. Jumping out he ran towards the bustle of shoppers on the street. He hoped that once there it would be easy to lose his pursuers. Some few yards away from the nearest shoppers he slowed his pace as he heard screaming and gunfire. People stampeded in panic right in front of PIA headquarters. He stopped briefly and looked up towards the large window he knew to be Henn’s office and a flash of worry crossed his face, was headquarters secure? Glancing back he saw four assassins still chasing him, whilst ahead two more stepped from the crowd with guns blazing. He sprinted towards the terrified crowd with yards looking like miles. His legs leaden—heart pounding and every breath agony as the sickening dizziness struck again.

PIA Headquarters.

"Damn that man he still hasn’t called in! What did he say? I’m following him, just following him. Well I know what he’s like and he can’t ever resist having just one more scrap." Turning to the girl at the communications switchboard Henn asked, "Miss, have you had anything from Vacily?"
        "No, Sir." Trixie replied.
        "Anything from Mr. Tretow?"
        "Nothing, Sir. Not since he called to say he was going in."
        "You worry far too much, Alex. It is not easy being the top man is it," said Joseph Proctor chuckling as he watched Henn.
        Easing his worried expression slightly allowed Henn’s familiar smile to reappear as he looked into the friendly face. There were still some of the original team members left, although they were getting rare. In his time, Joseph Proctor had been one of the top agents. Now he, like Sukoloff, had been put out to grass as an instructor and having transferred back to his home base of London was attempting to instil the art of self-preservation into new recruits. All of them, so it seemed, armed with an in built self-destruct mechanism.
        He spoke again to Henn in his cultured Oxbridge English. "I saw Vacily today. I think you should persuade him to take another physical. I fear he is ill."
        "Trying to get him to…"
        "Sir, emergency link from Bird!"
        "Yes, Jade, go ahead."
        "There’s gunfire, lots of it, just outside, do we go out?" she asked.
        Even as she spoke the alarms sounded throughout the building and agents ran to their posts. Henn instinctively reached for his gun only to be stopped by Proctor.
        "If the base is in jeopardy this section must be sealed. You must observe protocol and remain here," quoted Proctor.
        Henn and Proctor watched in horror the cold-blooded murder of innocents directly below them as Trixie established communications with the authorities already speeding towards the scene.
        Watching brought back the truths of age and the vivid memory of his days as an active agent. He saw the perfect partnership of his top men Tzavros and Steele as they ran towards the massacre, but most of the other agents were having trouble, hiding behind cars or calling in for instructions. Others, adrenaline raised, were forgetting their training and shouting at the assassins. Henn tried vainly to introduce calm to those calling in but he began to wonder if Vinton was right, was PIA useless?
        "Bird, stay back! Don’t antagonize them," he said aloud as he saw the young woman run from the protection of a door and hurl a rock at the nearest assassin.
        "This is Tanen—she went in—it’s awful—guns everywhere…"
        "Keep calm and follow Steele’s orders. Trixie, call Bird back, she hasn’t a clue."
        "Can’t get a link, Tanen’s still on the line."
        "Man down, man down…"
        "Who?"
        "He’s hurt, he’s shot…"
        "Who’s down, Tanen?"
        "Sukoloff!"
        "Get clear, young man and call Bird back," said Henn keeping remarkably calm. Trixie, try and get a link with Vacily."
        "I’m trying, sir, he’s not answering."
        "There he is!" shouted Proctor.
        Henn ran to the window and banged hard on the armored glass, "Vacily!" he shouted. "Get out of there!"
        "He cannot hear you, Alex. Good Lord! What is he doing?"
        "Damn Russians! Why can’t they run when they’re threatened? Why do they have to stand there and face what they say is inevitable. I would run and live another day."
        "Perhaps this is how he wishes to go out," said Proctor sadly.
        "Not while I’m here he’s not." Black anger blazed on Henn’s face as he ran from the building, then a flash—a noise—like the peal of a thunderclap stopped him as he stepped onto the street. A woman’s screams rang in his ears and lightning played across the street painting everything in its path with magnificent blue light. Distorted shapes of people danced before him and turned the scene to that of a surreal painting. In that split-second reality vanished.

Pain ripped through Sukoloff’s chest and his vision began to blur as a strange lightness came over him. Repeatedly the woman’s screams echoed around his head and he began to feel angry. Why didn’t she stop it? Any minute he was going to faint and she was not helping with her stupid noise. No, he had to report to Henn and try to save Tretow, no matter what. When he had done that, then he could faint!
        The pain flickered violently through his chest and tore across his back. He could feel sweat running down between his shoulder blades and begin to soak through his shirt. He tried to move but something held him back. His feet seemed to stick to the shiny manhole cover. The grip loosened on his gun and slowly it slipped from his hand. Although hot from running, coldness was starting to edge its way through him and he looked up towards the sun to gain some warmth, yet even its light seemed cold. As Sukoloff continued to search the sun for a flicker of heat, it seemed to grow. Not warmer, but bigger and whiter, until its light filled the whole sky. Only then did it begin to share its warmth with him, not only warming but also comforting him. He was beginning to feel at ease and pain-free. He wanted to go closer as its immense pull welcomed him. Its beauty was indescribable as it spun as if a diamond studded tornado and it seemed to lift him with its magnificent power.
        "Turn away, Vacily! Help Pia," said a voice.
        "How?"
        "Vacily, only think. Think about everything you do and help Pia,"
        "Who are you?"
        "Oochee-tyel, Vacily."
        He shuddered and turned away to look at the many faces watching him, he must get back to PIA—he had to warn them—then he could faint.
        As Henn watched in horror, slowly all the people began to swirl, merging into one gigantic human carousel and as suddenly as it began, like a video taken off pause, the jumping picture moved on.
        "Sir, Vinton’s down!"
        Henn focused on the voice and tried to shake the nightmare from his mind. "So is Vacily, Steele, I must get to him."
        "Mr. Sukoloff’s fine, he’s over there with Tanen."

A deep sense of foreboding crept into Henn's bones as he took in the carnage around him. Death; injury and fear surrounded him with even the uninjured splattered with blood and in deep shock. Screams and shouts of horror filled the air as panic-stricken people ran... Anywhere; everywhere, as rivulets of blood trickling past them. Others were giving what assistance they could to the dying and the injured, whilst distant sirens added to the cacophony as the emergency teams sped to them. For a moment he could only stand and watch Sukoloff join an elderly woman as she knelt next to a prostrate man for whom there could be no hope. The scarf she was pressing desperately against his chest became saturated; yet, the dark blood continued to spurt out—covering her arms and discoloring the road.
        "Vacily!" he shouted finally finding his voice. "Are you alright?"
        The familiar shrug of the shoulders answered long before his voice reached Henn. "Course I am, aren’t I always?"
        "Sir, you have to come, Zav has been arrested," said Steele.
        "What! Why?"
        "He shot Vinton."
        With one last glance back at Sukoloff, Henn marched to the entrance of PIA and confronted the two FBI men. "He’s one of mine," he said holding up his ID. A smile flitted across his face as they dropped Tzavros like a hot cake.
        "Tzavros, explain!" asked Henn eyeing the broken body of Vinton.
        "He shoot you was going to. I much quicker and shoot first," snapped Tzavros his shoulders giving an all too familiar wobble. Pushing the young Russian aside Henn knelt next to the dying Vinton and leaned closer to hear the whispered words.
        "They paid me to leave—they said they were going to take over—I thought it was you—that’s why I tried to kill you—I thought you were the one to take over…"
        "Who! Who paid you?"
        "Henn, I thought it was you…"
        "Who are going to take over?"
        "Kijac, Henn…"

Sukoloff blinked and shook himself from the partially remembered nightmare. Jade Bird had screamed and run to him. She had held his hand and as the lights around them increased, she had vanished. Distant voices echoed inside his head and he turned away from the noise, the smell of death and fear, then with his head bowed he thoughtfully walked toward Henn.
        "Vinton’s dead..." said Henn.
        "Tell me later, I have job to do."

Headquarters.

"Agents, Klyne and Bird, go to all the hospitals on the list. I want all the victims’ names and their injuries," said Henn.
.        "Not the stiffs as well?" asked Klyne pulling a face.
        "Yes!" Henn added angrily. "Then come back here. Bring back all the possessions the victims had with them. In individual bags and with clear labels please." Walking around the large table, he continued his speech, emphasizing every word. "The labs will be standing by for your return. Then I want you both in Intelligence. I want full background profiles, the works. Then try to make a connection between them Vinton or PIA."
        "Sir, by ourselves?" Klyne ran his hands through his auburn hair in shock.
        "This is what PIA trained you for. To work," snapped Henn. Then more gently added, "To help you I’ll have two specialist computer operators ready in an attempt to connect any of them with known organizations."
        "Sir, computer men? What good will that do?" asked Klyne.
        "Klyne! What is with you? Do you have to challenge everything? They’re good, both of them are ex FBI men with all the computer access codes in their heads. We must have complete information and I mean complete, as soon as possible."
        "Alex, you appear to be omitting the obvious."
        "And that is, Joseph?" asked Henn bitterly.
        "They were after Vacily or he started something that they finished."

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