The Mark of Halam (A Jeff Bradley Thriller) Page 9

  Fifteen metres from Esat’s car Zahar’s man looked up. Jeff increased his pace. The man talking to Esat looked about him. Uncertain. He stepped back from the car.

  The tyres of Esat’s car spun on the loose metal, flinging gravel like shrapnel from a grenade as it accelerated forward.

  “Hold it right there,” Jeff yelled.

  The barrel-shaped man turned and ran into the park. Jeff chased after him.

  “Bloody hell.” Barbara accelerated to the point where she had seen Jeff disappear and stopped, then turned off the engine.

  19.

  Red drove fast.

  Cunningham had not been able to get Barbara on her mobile. The number he dialled kept switching to message. If what she said was true and Zahar Akbar was about she was in serious danger. It surprised him how much getting to her and protecting her had prompted his reaction. Reinforcements and coordinating roadblocks should have taken precedence. Bad leadership. He slapped the top of the dashboard in relief when Red screeched the car across Titoki Street into the Domain and saw Barbara standing next to her sports car.

  Brian ran to her.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. She nodded. “Good. Now tell me. What the hell are you doing here and what happened?” He looked in the car as he spoke. “And where the hell is Bradley?”

  Barbara quickly related the meeting in Quentin’s nightclub.

  “As I said on the phone, the guy who met the car saw Jeff and ran off and Jeff chased after him.”

  “Jesus. Red, ring through to the Tactics Group. I want this bloody park surrounded right now. Every available man. Contact Senior Sergeant Te Kanawa and tell her to take everyone off the switchboards if she needs more personnel.”

  “You don’t have that authority, sir,” Red protested.

  “No. But she can get it.”

  Even as he spoke he was already thinking it was an impossible task. How do you surround something the size of the Domain with reduced staff?

  “Barbara. I thought we had an agreement. Sharing, remember?” He opened his mouth to say more but thought better of it “Forget it. Which way did they go?”

  She pointed. “Down through this park, across the bottom road and into the trees exactly where I’m pointing.”

  “Okay. Now listen to me. Go back to your apartment. Wait there. No arguments. Just do it.”

  “Brian, I don’t need a nursemaid. I’m a journalist, for Christ’s sake. This is a top story. And I’m here on the spot. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You’re also interfering in police business. Do you want me to have you arrested?”

  She glared at him. Stood her ground.

  “All right. Stay here. Go no further. Got it?”

  She held his eyes.

  “All right. Stay here for your own bloody safety. Can you at least do that?”

  She nodded.

  Cunningham turned and ran to the spot she had pointed to. Barbara watched until Cunningham was lost from sight then spun on her heel and walked back to her car.

  Jeff cursed himself for the idiot he was as he crashed his way through the trees. Chasing a man who might be an international terrorist and who was probably armed, into the bush, in the dark, had to top them all. If the runner had a knife or another weapon of sorts it would be bad enough but if he had a firearm it would be a one-sided contest. Branches tore at his shirt sleeves and scratched at his face; thousands of wooden hands with unclipped fingernails.

  Jeff slowed to stealthy steps. The crashing sound ahead stopped. Any movement Akbar’s man made would be heard easy enough unless he had the eyes of a cat and could step over twigs and he hadn’t and couldn’t. Jeff reached down and felt about for a rock. Anything he could use as a weapon.

  Ten minutes passed and neither Jeff nor the man he hunted had moved. Jeff was patient. Time was on his side. He spun at the sound of footsteps behind him. His fists clenched, he struck a boxers pose. Ready. How the hell had the bastard circled him?

  “Jeff?” he heard his name whispered.

  “Brian?”

  “Of course it’s me. What do you think you’re doing?”

  Jeff didn’t answer.

  “Where is he?”

  “In here somewhere. He’s stopped moving about.”

  “You have a plan?”

  “We were trained to wait,” Jeff said. “So we’ll wait. He’ll have to make a move sooner or later and we’ll hear him. I take it you have men on the way.”

  Sirens could be heard in the distance. “Here comes the cavalry now,” Cunningham said.

  Twigs crunched a few metres away. A shadow flitted to the left. Jeff ran after it. Zahar’s man was quick but Jeff was quicker. As they came together Jeff wrapped his arms round his opponent and they tumbled down the sloping incline. He almost lost his hold but Jeff clung to kicking legs.

  Then everything went black.

  “Jeff, Jeff, speak to me,” Cunningham yelled.

  “Stop shaking me,” Jeff groaned. “What the hell happened?”

  “You’ve lost your edge, that’s what happened. Too long out of the service. You’ve gone soft.”

  Jeff sat up and held his head. Cunningham knelt beside him.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Except for injured pride, I’m okay.” He ran fingers across his forehead. “I have a lump on my head.”

  “No more than you bloody deserve. You let him get the better of you. I’m disappointed.”

  “Thanks for the support. And why the hell didn’t you go after him?”

  “Believe me it was my first thought but I had a man down, namely you, and I couldn’t very well leave you dying in the woods. We never leave a man behind, remember?”

  Jeff accepted Cunningham’s hand and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet. He felt his face; blood was running from his nose. The sound of sirens now came from all directions.

  “Sounds like an awful lot of cops arriving. Maybe you’ll get lucky?”

  “My guess is he’s a smart guy. He’ll get out somewhere.”

  Barbara smiled when she saw them but, as Jeff drew closer, she frowned.

  “Jeff. Are you all right? You look awful.”

  “I think he broke my nose,” Jeff moaned with a nasally sound.

  Three police cars had formed a road block.

  “Did he get away?” Barbara asked.

  Jeff nodded, and then winced.

  “I’m afraid so,” Cunningham said. “I’ll get the dogs in. He’s still in there somewhere. Barbara, can you take Jeff to the emergency clinic then drop him down at the ferry terminal? I can’t spare anyone. It’s more than he deserves. He never was one to follow an order.”

  “It wasn’t obeying the order I had a problem with, it was the order itself.”

  Cunningham shrugged. “I’ll talk to you two later.”

  Barbara opened the passenger door.

  “Let’s get you to the hospital,” Barbara said.

  “I’ll be fine. I’ve suffered far worse. Just get me out of here.”

  She looked at her watch. “You’ll never catch a ferry at this hour. You better come home with me. I’ll tend to your wounds, soldier, and I have whisky.”

  Inside her apartment Barbara pointed to the lounge. “Take a seat. I’ll get us a drink.”

  Jeff collapsed on the couch. After a few minutes Barbara came through carrying a tray with a bottle of whisky and two glasses and a small bucket of ice.

  “Do you think the police will have him by now?” Barbara asked.

  She dropped ice into both glasses and poured whisky over it.

  “He’ll get away,” Jeff stated. Despondent. “He was in survival mode. Makes you stronger, more cunning. I’m rusty, out of my depth, totally inept. So now we’re back to square one. Both our leads to Akbar got away.”

 
“I have a spare room.”

  Jeff managed a smile. Another grimace. “You’re asking me to spend the night with you.”

  “Consider yourself fortunate. It’s a rare invitation. I value my privacy.”

  “When a beautiful woman and a celebrity to boot asks me to spend the night with her, I’m hardly likely to turn her down.”

  Jeff was suddenly exhausted. The second whisky was working its magic. When his head hit the pillow he drifted into a sleep as deep as a coma.

  Sometime later, Jeff awoke to sunlight streaming through the curtains.

  The bathroom was across the hall. He checked his face. His eye and nose were tender but not swollen. The lump on the side of his head felt like the size of a goose egg. The asshole must have hit him with a rock. He touched the swelling and winced. It hurt but the nose hadn’t broken. He used the shower then threw on his grubby clothes. Freshened, he ventured out into to the lounge. Barbara was cooking. She had dressed in tracksuit bottoms and a T-shirt. Casual but cute. How he imagined a Sunday morning might be if they were in a relationship. Nice, was the word that came to mind.

  She smiled when she saw him.

  “Good morning. Hope you’re in the mood for breakfast.”

  “I’m starving.”

  He sat at the breakfast bar. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee tickled his senses. Barbara placed a cup in front of him then poured the coffee.

  “How’s the head?” Barbara asked.

  “Not so bad. Any word from Brian?”

  “He phoned earlier. He’s on his way to pay me a visit. I don’t think we’re his favourite people.”

  The doorbell rang.

  “Speak of the devil. I’ll bet that’s him now.”

  Barbara pulled the frying pan off the element and went to the door. Cunningham had obviously been up all night. He walked past her. She closed the door and followed him into the lounge. He hesitated when he saw Jeff. He looked back at Barbara. Both knew what he was assuming. He glared at Jeff. Jeff sipped on his coffee. Not intimidated.

  “Brian, would you like a coffee? Breakfast?” Barbara asked.

  “A coffee. Thank you.” He kept his eyes on Jeff.

  “How’s your head?”

  “I’ll live. He got away I take it?”

  “Yes.”

  Barbara said, “I’m sorry about last night, Brian. No one meant to go behind your back. It was a spur of the moment thing.”

  “Is that the way it was, Jeff, a spur of the moment thing? This guy Akbar was one of the men responsible for this friend of yours killed in Kosovo. Are you sure you didn’t have a little revenge in mind?”

  “It had crossed my mind. But no. Quentin introduced me to a man named Esat Krasniqi. He’s a refugee from Kosovo. For a man who had been in New Zealand for only a few years he had gotten rich very quickly. I played a hunch and mentioned a few names and it spooked him. Barbara had a car. I didn’t. The decision had to be made there and then. We followed him to the park. The rest you know.”

  “This Krasniqi. Do you know how to make contact with him?”

  “Quentin can help you there.”

  “I’d better go see him.” Brian put his cup on the counter. He looked to leave then hesitated. “Can I drop you somewhere, Jeff?”

  “Thanks. But after breakfast I’ll amble down to the ferry.”

  “Thank you for the coffee, Barbara. If I think of anything else I’ll call you later.”

  Barbara showed him to the door. When she returned she eyed Jeff. He held her stare.

  “I feel terrible.”

  “Really? Why?” Jeff asked.

  “I think Brian thought that he and I might get together last night. I saw his face when he saw you sitting there. I can imagine the thoughts racing through his head. Not that it’s any of his business what I do. But it makes me uncomfortable the way you are with each other, and your being here this morning might have made it worse.”

  “You can relax, Barbara. Really. What you saw between us had nothing to do with whether you and I slept together. Brian and I go back a few years. Let’s just say we aren’t the best of friends.”

  Barbara picked up her coffee and cradled it. “Are you going to enlighten me?”

  Jeff smiled. “I can’t. Sorry.”

  “Of course you can.”

  “No, really, I can’t. What happened between us is under the Official Secrets Act. Sorry.”

  “Are you for real?”

  Jeff nodded.

  “Now I really am intrigued. I’m a journalist. Secrets are what I uncover. I’ll be watching you, Jeff Bradley.”

  20.

  Esat Krasniqi pulled down his warehouse roller door for the last time. Before he climbed into his car he took a moment for one last look at the building he had occupied for the last three years. There would be no returning. He had a pang of regret for the staff. They had been loyal to him. Helped build his business. He would miss life in New Zealand. It was a beautiful country. He could not return to Kosovo but Albania was large enough for him to get lost in. For Albanian Kosovans, it was the mother country and he would be welcomed like a lost brother. He regretted that he had been forced to betray his new country but Avni Leka had ensured neither he nor the others had any choice.

  Zahar’s men had managed to get everything into three vehicles the size of DHL courier vans. It had meant manhandling equipment out of the crates. It would have been much easier to forklift the crates onto small trucks. Two of the items had weighed more than two hundred kilos. But Sami Hadani insisted it was less conspicuous in the vans and everyone knew better than argue with Sami. It was done now and they would move out at five-minute intervals.

  Sami had not mentioned his driving away and leaving the big man behind in the Domain the previous night. He had at least stayed in the vicinity, and when called upon had collected Hadani in the hospital grounds that backed onto the Domain. But cold eyes had met his when Sami climbed into the passenger seat and the atmosphere in the car turned to ice. Esat had shivered throughout the drive back to Sami’s house. He would have preferred it if Sami had yelled at him. But what the hell, all had turned out to the good in the end and Sami was safe. Maybe that was it for Sami. He had lived that sort of life in Kosovo and Serbia – near misses went with the territory.

  The details of his escape route out of New Zealand were only known to Sami and Zahar Akbar. Esat would learn the arrangements when they met up. Until then he would hide out with Akbar’s men. The police would be crawling all over the building in the next few hours. It would take time to find it. Neither the factory nor his home was in his name.

  As he drove down the lane and onto the street he tried to think if there was anything he might have forgotten that might lead police to the others. There was his customer list on the computers but that was in customs as well. They had been good clients. Never argued over price and always paid on time. He and Avni Leka had communicated from time to time but then he had spoken to hundreds over the years. He doubted his communications would lead anywhere.

  Right now all that was important was that the equipment from the stolen container had been extracted. In another ten minutes it would be in a new and secure location. The new warehouse was held in a trust. He had assured Zahar that it was untraceable but of course if the police knew where to look they would eventually find it. However, he was not about to say such a thing to Zahar Akbar. He feared the terrorist leader as much as he feared Sami Hadani and was already worried at Akbar’s reaction to his leading the police into the Domain. He assumed the only reason he still lived was because Sami had escaped. Praise to Allah that he had. He wasn’t about to give Zahar a reason to change his mind.

  Zahar Akbar tilted the china pot and poured a fresh cup of lemon tea. A chocolate biscuit buried under shortbread and crackers caught his eye. He dug it out and bit off the end, then leaned back in his sea
t. Freshened from a few hours shuteye he sifted through the information bouncing about in his head. Sami had evaded capture. A lucky break.

  This man Bradley. How did he know to ask Esat Krasniqi such questions? What made him think Esat would have any knowledge of the operation? The good news was that he had mentioned the name of Zahar Akbar. It meant the police had told him of the message left in the blonde’s house. Esat said the blonde and Bradley danced together like lovers. He was right to choose her. She wasn’t just someone he knew from the lawyer’s office. Good. He would find her again and this time she would not be so lucky.

  The only answer was that he had known Esat was Kosovan and the approach and questioning in the nightclub was a fishing expedition. That fool Esat had taken the bait. What else had he said? This Bradley had managed to find a way to his men when the entire New Zealand police force had failed. Was it dumb luck?

  He decided to phone his boss, Avni Leka. Leka did not like surprises. He set up the satellite phone. Avni would not allow the use of any phone that could be traced.

  The call was answered on the second ring. “It’s very late. I was sleeping. What do you want?”

  Zahar ignored Leka’s belligerent tone. What did it matter to him if the man had the manners of a pig? Money in the bank was all Zahar cared about and Leka made certain his account overflowed. He had met Avni Leka for the first time in Kosovo. But he and his brother had worked for Avni a number of years before that. When his brother, Halam, and Leka tried to escape across the Macedonian border, Halam had been killed and Leka managed to evade capture and escape to Italy. When he made his own escape from the Americans he had left a series of messages on long-arranged secret email addresses. Avni, now hiding out in Italy, had talked him into taking over the running of the operation left vacant by the death of Halam. He agreed because he needed the money, and Avni had the resources to keep him hidden, turn him into a ghost. And now the ghost had come out of hiding. But Avni Leka was a banker, no more than that. He did not feel inferior to him and he certainly was not about to be intimidated by him.