* * *
They walked casually out the front door of the mansion, Ethan in front and Andy in the back with a pistol in hand. The guards saw them but paid little attention, their heads spending most of the time looking above to the overcast sky.
“It’ll rain. That might put a dent in the flight plan,” said Ethan in a low key. Andy replied almost under his breath:
“Don’t talk. Prisoners are never allowed to talk and you, especially you can’t be an exception.” He shoved Ethan, trying to look authoritative and bossy for the benefit of the guards. Ethan stopped, turned his head around and looked at Andy angrily for a moment, on which Andy commented:
“That’s the spirit. Properly pissed off,” he said with a grin and made a gesture with the pistol for Ethan to move on.
Ethan did not reply, but still walked onwards. Andy checked around them for any sign of one of the patrols going inside the house. They were walking casually but briskly, trying not to appear too hasty without good reason. Around them the sound of the river rushing by dominated the rest of the voice of the jungle. The animals had felt the rain coming as well.
They approached the guard at the entry point, who asked Andy something in Igbo. The guard wore an unusually wide grin and made shooting gestures with his rifle. Andy replied tersely and the guard stopped his little act, replying curtly. Andy nodded, the guard opened the metal panel and grabbed Ethan by the arm, forcing him to step on the ladder and get below. Ethan used his fingers to grab onto the small metal bars of the ladder. Another man was posted below, silently watching Andy and Ethan.
The foot of the ladder was well lit, near an intersection of the complex. Ethan remembered how he had been led here when released from the machinery room where he had been kept for a while. He could confidently find his way over there, even though the corridors looked almost identical. The lights were on, powered from a generator somewhere but there were blind spots from burnt out bulbs. The dank, cool air had an oily feeling about it; it smelled of cordite and gasoline.
Ethan and the guard exchanged a few looks, the guard seemingly checking him up from head to toe. Ethan had the air of an angry animal about him, as if trapped in a cage: he sported a razor-sharp gaze, fidgeting and looking pumped-up. The guard glanced once or twice at the knots in his hands, but Andy stepped between them and asked the guard something in Igbo. His voice had an anxious, urgent quality. The guard seemed uneasy, shaking his head and answering in a monotone. Andy repeated the question with emphasis, while the guard on the surface closed the panel.
Once the panel had been sealed, Andy nodded to Ethan who instantly pulled on the rope and let loose his hands. The guard’s eyes went wide with surprise, but even as he tried to shout and push Andy away, his mouth was already covered up and Andy’s knee was connected powerfully with the guard’s genitals.
The guard folded from the pain and let out a muffled groan. Ethan sprang up on him from one side and caught his head in his hands. With a quick, expert motion, he violently turned the man’s head around and a snapping noise was heard. The guard went limp and they both quickly and quietly dragged him to the near end of the corridor, where a soft shadow kept the body somewhat hard to notice from a distance.
Andy checked his watch and nodded for Ethan to follow him. They picked up the pace and were soon jogging inside the complex, seemingly on a random route. They kept passing by locked and barred doors, when Andy suddenly stopped. He produced a small key-chain and quickly selected a key. Ethan kept looking back and forth for any sign or sound of a patrol.
Andy unlocked the door, quietly raised the bar and set it aside. He opened it and flicked a switch. A warm yellow lamplight filled the room and they both went inside. It was a large storage room, with crates of various sizes neatly stacked and arranged. Andy’s eyes quickly scanned the room, searching for something in particular, his right index finger hovering in the air.
He then pointed to one corner and said to Ethan, “There’s a crowbar lying around there somewhere.”
Andy then showed him a particular crate and told him, “Open that one up.”
Ethan found the crowbar, while Andy was rummaging about in another side of the room, as if sorting something by hand. Ethan opened up the crate to reveal a tightly packed array of small brown bricks. He carefully removed one and examined it with curiosity. He then asked Andy:
“A crate of Semtex?” he said as he casually checked the labels on the other crates.
“So that’s the right one, eh? That was supposed to be used in wrecking the Onitsha bridge,” answered Andy, lost behind a series of crates. “We’ll have to move it to another room. And we’ll need some oil barrels as well,” continued Andy, his voice strained from the physical exertion.
“Alright, I can carry this. Have you got the fuses?” asked Ethan as he fumbled with another box.
Andy finally reappeared sporting a thin grin and a thick bundle of a white, waxy rope.
“We’re done here,” he said and checked his watch once more. “We’ve got about five minutes. We’ll have to lay down the fuses and wait the patrol out. Then we jump them,” he went on as he straightened his glasses, turned towards the door and stood frozen still.
Nicole had just entered the room with a knife in one hand and a gun in the other. She was aiming at Andy, her face impossibly torn between anger and sorrow. She trembled visibly when she spoke:
“So, what does your plan say about me Andy?”
Andy turned around and looked at her with a hint of guilt. He took a step closer instinctively before trying to reply. Nicole placed her sights squarely against him, a couple of feet away from his forehead, while Ethan turned slowly around, trying to edge himself closer to her. She swapped targets at blinding speed and told Ethan:
“I need answers. Hands were I can see them.”
“Put the gun down, Nicole. I know I should’ve told you. It just wasn’t the right time,” said Andy with a sorrowful, earnest voice.
“Is there ever a right time?” asked Nicole, her eyes wet already from a film of tears.
“Put the gun down before we’re vaporized,” interjected Ethan. It made Nicole laugh bitterly before she answered, sniffing her nose lightly:
“I can put a bullet on a man’s head a mile away. Don’t worry, I won’t hit anything else other than you.”
Ethan took a side step and revealed his hand was holding a small metal box, with wires stretching away from it, set right into a block of Semtex.
“You want answers? That’s fine, I’d like some answers myself,” he said decisively.
Nicole’s expression turned into one of anxiety. She gripped her gun with uncertainty, while she began to sweat. She kept her eyes fixed on Ethan without saying a word for a few moments. Andy told her then, with as much truth as he could muster in his voice:
“Come with me. We’ll leave this life behind. I’ll quit the Service. They’ll debrief you, give you a new name, everything. We’ll get lost somewhere in the world, start over. If I can’t have anything, I must have you, Nicole.”
“Why didn’t you say so from the start, Andy? I’d hoped the source was wrong. But no. All my years of work, thrown out the window. For you, non?” she said trembling, her voice wavering like that of a scared child.
“I thought I could keep it professional. I thought I could just work you, like you were trying to work me. But I just couldn’t, Nicole. Could you?” asked Andy passionately, looking as if he was lost into her eyes. She whispered almost inaudibly, “Non,” and her brow furrowed as she seemed to soften up, giving in to a feeling she could not contain. But her gun was still aiming at Ethan, who cut in with a polite little laughter and said:
“You’re holding a gun, I’m holding a detonator and you want to have a little moment? This is outrageous! Listen, we either all walk away, or no-one does. My choice, really,” said Ethan sounding smug and confident.
“Go on then,” said Nicole before she turned to look at Ethan with a furious, mad gaze. She went on
and said with abandon:
“Go on, push that trigger. All I want to know is that he loves me. That Andy loves me. We used each other. He lied. I did too, at first. But I thought that he meant everything he said and did.”
“Not everything, love. I took an oath and I never break them. I took an oath to you as well and I won’t break that one either. Come with me now, please,” said Andy with an unseemly pleading tone.
“I can’t, Andy. Ce n’est pas possible. How can… How can I trust you now?” she said, fresh tears flowing down both her cheeks. Andy replied without hesitation, a fiery conviction in his voice, an immaculate, fearless shine in his eyes.
“Look into my eyes. Look into my eyes and tell me that you don’t want to trust me. That you don’t love me more than anything.”
“Je ne peux pas. Je peux pas, mon amour… Je-”
Her voice was cut in mid-sentence as her eyes went wide with shock and she gasped for a little air with her mouth wide open. She half-turned her head to see Ethan next to her, feeling the gun in her hand slip away. Ethan had stabbed her in the stomach, the unimaginable pain rising up from her belly to numb her senses. Andy grabbed her with his arms as she couldn’t stand on her feet and screamed:
“No, no, wait! Wait!”
Ethan grabbed the fuses and told Andy:
“We need to move. She might’ve warned everyone already. We have to go now, Andy!”
Andy seethed with furious anger, even as he laid Nicole down up against a wall. He shouted at him even as she bled profusely from her belly, her face going visibly pale even under the yellowish lamplight:
“What the fuck were you thinking?”
“I was thinking of saving our arses. Now get your wits about you and let’s move!”
“She was coming with us, damn you! Damn you, Ethan! She was!” cried Andy, barely able to control a rising well of sobs.
Nicole looked at him with her large eyes, her pupils dilated. She caressed his cheek with a feeble hand, before she whispered to him with real effort:
“I wouldn’t Andy. Not now, not ever. But I still love you…” she said as she went into shock and fell unconscious.
“No, no. I have to… I need to get one of the kits, powder, bandages… Stop the bleeding…” mumbled Andy loudly as he still held Nicole in his arms. Ethan was overlooking the corridor, still seeing nothing alarming. He looked at his brother and saw his earlier calm and professional self had turned into some sort of living wreck. He grabbed him by the shoulder gently and knelt down, came face to face with Andy and spoke softly:
“There was no other way, Andy. The way things turned out, there was no other way.”
“Fuck you, Ethan. For God’s sake, she’s not dead yet!” said Andy with a sob.
“She said so herself, she wouldn’t. You loved her, I can see that now. But she knew and could choose not to try and stop you.”
“It doesn’t fucking matter now, Ethan. You killed her. You bloody fucking killed her!”
“I’ll have to live with that too. Don’t let it go to waste, Andy. Let’s fucking move,” said Ethan with urgency and Andy looked at him in a strange, awkward fashion. He told him then in a choked, sobbing voice:
“No-one behind, right?”
“It’s just us brothers now, Andy,” said Ethan and his brother nodded as if mesmerized. He made the sign of the cross and kissed Nicole on the forehead before he got up. He then picked up the crate of Semtex and followed Ethan.
The two of them moved silently, working as a team who knew exactly what to do from before hand. Ethan kept a wary eye waiting for a patrol to come looking, feeling like they had already ran out of time. Andy moved like a machine, and led them to a storage room which was filled to the brim with cases full of dynamite.
Ethan began laying down blocks of Semtex around the storage room, while Andy worked as if in a trance, running the fuse to many different cases, making sure at least one would eventually light up. The Semtex would go off and that should be enough for the next room filled with fuel barrels to burn up in an explosion. The ensuing fire would obliterate everything and everyone not just inside the complex, but certainly above as well.
Andy laid the last of the fuses and checked his watch. The patrol was actually running a little late, but when Ethan took another look outside the door down the corridor, he saw two men walking towards him. They suddenly stopped and aimed their weapons. They started shouting in Igbo, while Ethan shook his head and raised an open palm.
The guards were now starting to bellow with outrage and kept coming closer, demanding some sort of explanation or identification that Ethan had no hope of providing. Instead he remained as apathetic as possible and when the guards came within thirty feet or less, he suddenly pulled his Browning and knelt in one motion. The guards saw Ethan draw the gun and let fly a burst of rounds. But they were aiming from shoulder-high and their shots missed wildly, chunks of concrete flying off the walls.
Ethan ignored the shots against him and aimed calmly in their direction, placing three shots against each one of them. The bullets met their targets at the chest and stomach in an almost identical fashion. The guards fell backwards as if they’d been hit by a truck, while one of them let fly another burst from his AK-47. Ethan shouted to Andy while reloading the magazine with bullets from a case of ammo in the room.
“We’re made. Are you done?”
“Done,” said Andy flatly as he appeared through the door, holding the rest of the fuse.
“Good, light it up,” said Ethan as he checked the corners for signs of more men. Andy replied slowly, as if awaking from a deep slumber:
“I’m sorry?”
“Light up the bloody fuse and let’s make a run for it.”
“Well, like this it’s only going to give us a couple of minutes at the most.”
“Better run fast enough then,” replied Ethan and looked at Andy with a wild-eyed gaze as he took out his knife, cut out most of the rest of the fuse Andy was holding and lit it up with his cigarette lighter.
“Go!” he shouted and ran in front, while Andy swore under his breath and followed him. He shouted rough directions to Ethan who already had an instinctive idea about where the exit lay. Half a minute later, they were running down the exit corridor. There were two men at the feet of the ladder barely visible in front of them. Another two were already climbing down when Ethan carefully placed a few shots that seemed to miss wildly.
The two Igbo guards seemed to be taken by surprise seeing Andy running alongside Ethan, but the reality of flying bullets made them start shooting only a moment later. They were trying to aim steadily, but they were on full burst; the awesome kick of the AK-47 sent the bullets flying around the walls and the ceiling, almost miraculously missing them both.
At the same time, Andy and Ethan unleashed a flurry of single-action shots, without stopping or even slowing down their run. The shots struck home, as jets of blood seemed to eject from one man’s torso and the other man’s legs. They had lost their balance falling on the ground, barely alive, screaming from the pain.
The men climbing down the ladder had remained stuck halfway down, trying to upholster their handguns.
By that time, Andy and Ethan had come so close that they could clearly see the anxious fear on the men’s faces. They had time enough to exchange a few more shots, adrenaline levels, training and experience making all the difference. The guards fell on the floor with a thump, one of them outright dead with a hole in his head.
Andy urged Ethan to climb first and as he did so he took a look on his watch and his face turned ashen. He pushed Ethan’s buttocks upwards as he climbed and felt an invigorating rush of heavy rain. Ethan got outside and took a quick look around him, catching the glimpse of small teams of men spread around the mansion in disarray.
When Andy got outside right behind him he simply shouted:
“Run like all Hell’s loose!”
They started running in a southerly direction while they heard shots flying, un
able to see how far off from the mark they were falling. The rain had already turned the dirt into mud, while the river up front seemed to froth out of control. They kept running while the bullets sometimes buried themselves in the mud or broke branches off a nearby mangrove. Ethan asked then with a shout:
“Time?”
“Should’ve blown up by now!”
“It should? Fuck! If it hasn’t then we have to-”
Without ever having time to finish his sentence, Ethan felt the earth beneath his feet tremble as if a terrible earthquake was underway. He slightly paused in his running stride as if he wanted to stop, turn around and look. Andy caught a glimpse of him from the corner of his eye and instinctively reached for his brother and brought him down along with him, flat on the ground. Then they felt a terrible wave of overpressure that washed over their bodies like a steamroller, pressing them into the mud.
A horrible rumbling noise like a thunderclap tore up the air; a few moments later, they felt gravel and sand fall on top of them like a cloud had settled above them. Andy hesitantly turned around to look and Ethan followed suit a moment later. Among the billowing dust cloud and the large fire, they could make out a crater at least three hundred feet wide. Another explosion was heard and they saw flames flickering wildly and debris shooting up in the air.
“It’s done,” said Ethan as he got up and started walking with evident relief in his face, as if the thick rain cleansed everything. Andy got up, made the sign of the cross and followed him without ever turning to look back again.