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  ‘Back up, step away.’ Akulov’s voice was low and the tone even.

  The Giant started to shift his weight backwards. His lips parted as though he was about to speak but before they could form any words Akulov deftly pistol-whipped him across the side of the head, where the bone and skin was thinnest. The Giant stumbled backwards, a ribbon of blood spurting from his temple, and dropped to his knees.

  Akulov followed him out of the minivan, keeping the handgun trained on his head. The Giant wobbled and then slumped backwards.

  Akulov paused, waited for the Giant’s form to settle before he moved the Beretta to point at Pedro who was standing, pale-faced with his eyes on Bravo. But then Bravo’s eyes opened and he pulled his beloved Colt from the back of his waistband. Autoinjector still sticking out of his arm, like a spear thrown at colossus, he swung the six-shooter up, triumph in his eyes.

  ‘That shit has no effect on me! Say goodbye!’ The Giant pulled the trigger. Akulov didn’t react; he didn’t need to. There was a loud click as the hammer dropped but found an empty barrel.

  Akulov didn’t want to shoot, didn’t want to turn this confrontation noisy, as even the suppressed Beretta would make a distinctive sound to trained ears, so he kicked out at Bravo, his foot catching him in the head. Bravo absorbed the blow and using his left arm’s elongated reach, swatted Akulov sideways. Akulov lost balance and crashed over the low wall separating the drive from the lawn. His back hit the concrete hard and the wind was knocked out of him, but he managed to roll onto his front and then get to his knees.

  ‘You wanna play?’ Bravo’s voice sounded too high for a man of his size.

  Intuitively Akulov threw himself to the left and rolled again, as the huge man lunged at him. Akulov was on his feet; the Beretta lay on the sprinkler-wet grass out of reach. Whatever had been in the autoinjector was either dud or ineffective. This was going to be a fistfight.

  ‘You got lucky in that alley. You humiliated me.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Puta!’ Bravo charged. Akulov jinked away from his first blow but again underestimated the man’s reach and was hit by a second, square in the face.

  An explosion of stars filled his vision. ‘Chort!’ Akulov swore as he slipped on the damp grass and fell. He felt blood running down his face, his vision blurry. He recalculated: he was fighting someone forty per cent larger than average. Which meant a forty per cent longer reach and forty per cent harder strikes. He started to feel his anger rise. However good the Giant was, Akulov knew he was no match for a Werewolf.

  Memories of his training flashed into his mind. Days spent fighting in rain-soaked fields with frozen hands. The face of his much larger, old trainer looking down at him as he lay in the dirt, blood running down his face. The Giant may have been taught to fight, but Akulov had been trained to kill. He paused for a moment longer, let out a groan and held his face, playing for time. The Giant looked down at him and grinned. He was beginning to relax now that the fight was almost won. But it wasn’t …

  Akulov sprang back to his feet and ducked under one huge haymaker. As Bravo’s momentum carried him on, Akulov zeroed in on the points he had been trained to target and kicked the Giant hard in the kidney. Bravo stumbled, and grabbed his side. He stepped back, a flicker of something like fear in his eyes. He took a deep breath, turned, and came again, but this time his moves were slower. Bravo’s eyes were glazing over, his limbs weak and juddery. Akulov felt a sense of relief as he realised the sedative was finally starting to work. The Giant swung his fist, but it was sluggish, and Akulov easily swiped it aside. He stepped left and swung his boot into the Giant’s groin. There was a howl of pain and the huge man collapsed on the ground. Akulov stepped closer and dealt a final finishing kick to the man’s jaw. His eyes rolled up into his head and his body went limp. Akulov panted for breath and, head throbbing, spat out a mouthful of blood onto the ground.

  ‘Don’t move, cabrón!’ Pedro said, holding an Uzi.

  Akulov let out an exasperated sigh. He tried to relax, but the spray-and-pray machine pistol would shred him if Pedro so much as coughed.

  Pedro moved nearer. ‘Put your hands up!’

  Akulov knew that the boy had just made a big mistake. Keeping eye contact, Akulov raised his arms above his head and then as Pedro stepped forward again, he ducked and leapt closer, instantly decreasing the distance between them. Pedro shouted but Akulov dropped his shoulder, grabbed the Uzi, and knocked it out of Pedro’s grasp. In one swift motion, he flipped the machine pistol around to deliver a savage, clubbing upper cut. Pedro’s head jerked back and he dropped.

  Akulov let himself fall too and went prone immediately, next to the cover of the low wall, expecting at any moment to hear voices and boots approaching. He lay there, his blood pounding in his ears but could hear no other sounds. Slowly he got to his feet and inspected first the unconscious Pedro, blood seeping from his nose and mouth, and then Bravo. The monster was sleeping like a baby, now that the sedative had kicked in. Akulov collected the Giant’s Colt before he moved back into the deep shadow of the van and checked his watch. It was four a.m., the second day running he’d been up before the sun. The night was his friend, his accomplice. At the moment its dark shroud was hiding his presence at the property, but that would change as soon as dawn broke. Or as soon as either Vetrov or Angel realised their men hadn’t checked in. He was in a precarious position.

  Akulov looked down again at Pedro. He’d given the cartel man a choice and predictably it hadn’t ended well. The former soldier, former assassin, realised he’d become soft, less ruthless than a man in his profession must be. But hadn’t he decided to retire, decided to feel? Wasn’t that what this last year had been all about? All he knew was he had to clear up the mess around him. But first he had to check the house.

  Moving slowly and ignoring the pain, he pushed the side door open and crouched. He listened to the interior sounds, but couldn’t hear anything that suggested another living human was inside. He moved into what he imagined had been built as a mud room and then entered a corridor that led left to the kitchen and right into what appeared to be a dining room. He opened his mouth slightly and listened again. Now all he could hear was a distant, rhythmic ticking and an electronic hum. As his eyes adjusted to the dark interior he saw dull, blue light leaking from beneath a door further along the hall. It seemed to be the only source of light in the sleeping house. Suppressed Beretta by his side, he approached the door and then placed his ear against it. The hum grew louder, but he could hear nothing else. He grabbed the handle, pushed it down and stepped in.

  There was no one inside, just a bank of TV monitors. Most displayed views of the street and the two houses owned by the Mendez brothers, but another displayed the parking lot of an industrial unit. The equipment was top of the line and the image quality was as sharp as the night allowed. Some of the screens had a green hue to them, whilst one had infrared. Akulov noted that two of the screens were trained on the same window. As he watched first one and then the other, he could see two figures writhing rhythmically, one was very short but wide.

  He retraced his steps, conscious that at any moment either of the two men outside could wake up and raise the alarm. He moved out of the door, weapon up, quartering left, right, up, down, searching for targets. At a crouch he moved to Pedro. The cartel soldier was still unconscious. He left him and checked the Giant. He was still out for the count. Akulov kicked him and there was no reaction. Akulov tucked the cumbersome suppressed Beretta into the waistband at the rear of his jeans, managed to get his arms under Bravo’s armpits and heaved him backwards. After the initial tug he moved without much resistance on the damp grass. They reached the wall and Akulov managed to roll him over the top. There was a thud as he landed on the concrete path on the other side, but Akulov didn’t care. He paused to listen and catch his breath before dragging the Giant into the house. Akulov left him on the floor of the mud room and went back to the van to grab the cable ties and duct tape.


  When he returned, he found that the Giant had disappeared. He cursed himself and drew his handgun. Edging into the house he could see a wide, damp line on the wooden flooring that glistened in the light thrown by the open door of the CCTV room. He ran the last few steps to the room and found the big man sprawled on the floor, partly covering an overturned chair.

  Akulov pushed the Beretta against his head for the second time. ‘I’m almost going to be upset when I kill you.’

  Bravo’s eyes opened, and he spoke, his words slurred and slow. ‘Y … yo … you don’t understand …’

  The Russian removed the pistol, moved away from Bravo and crouched in the corner. ‘Then explain it to me.’

  He watched Bravo manage to summon enough control of his body to make it to the opposite wall. He sat back against it, his head hanging low, chin resting on his thick, muscled chest. ‘I had no choice … but … to … to work with them. They threatened my mother … my sister … if the Giant Bravo did not join their cartel.’

  ‘Is that a fact?’ Akulov said, flatly.

  ‘Sí … sí … Look at me. I am a genetic freak, and because I was big the Mendez Cartel insisted and demanded I be their enforcer.’

  Akulov noticed the man’s speech was becoming clearer as the narcotic wore off at a rapid rate. ‘You should be honoured.’

  ‘What honour is there? My mother made me study at school, and at night too. I am a security expert. I designed this whole system. I am in charge of communications and security; I want to fight with my mind. But no. I am seven foot two so I must fight with my fists like I did as the Giant Bravo!’

  Akulov laughed.

  Bravo raised his head. The cut on the side had stopped bleeding but a scarlet streak ran onto his forehead. ‘Go ahead, mock me. Better still, shoot me here like a dog, because if you do not then Angel or his pet Russian will.’

  ‘Vetrov.’

  ‘Yes, your previous boss. I know who he is and who you were. I also know what they have done to you.’

  ‘Explain.’

  ‘I do not know how they did it, but I know you did not plant that bomb in London.’

  Akulov started took a step forward before he stopped himself. The big man was good, almost had him believing.

  ‘You are thinking, why should you believe me? The sedative you gave me has completely worn off. I could have attacked you when you came into the room, I could now, but then you would shoot me and one of us would die. Either way they win.’

  ‘The Mendez Cartel.’

  ‘Blackline.’

  Akulov shivered. ‘What do you know about Blackline?’

  ‘The EMP was only their first weapon.’

  Akulov stood, but kept the Beretta trained at Bravo’s head. ‘What is the second weapon?’

  ‘Shoot me and you will never know, and you will also never clear your name. What is it that Vetrov told me? Ah yes, he said that you had a “code” and that was why he could not trust you. You would not do what was needed if it broke your code. I am asking you now to abide by that code. The code that makes you different from us animals. Take me from here, as your prisoner, and I will tell you everything.’

  ‘Everything?’

  ‘I will tell you what I know. I cannot tell you any more.’

  ‘Why are you turning on your masters?’

  ‘My masters?!’ The Giant’s fists clenched. ‘They are not my masters. They are not my betters. All they have is money and the fake loyalty of the dogs it buys for them. You and I, we are above them.’

  An alarm bell rang in Akulov’s mind. It all felt too easy. Bravo was saying exactly what he thought he wanted to hear; he was giving up information. The only conclusion he could make was that he had been schooled by Vetrov in what to do and what to say. Even so, he had to take the chance that Bravo did know something. ‘Disable your entire CCTV network.’

  ‘I will, if we have a deal?’

  Akulov nodded. ‘Do it.’

  Akulov tracked Bravo as he pulled himself up, righted his seat and then sat heavily. He reached under the desk and turned off several plugs. ‘Done.’

  ‘OK. Move it.’

  He let the Giant go first and they exited the house. Pedro was still lying on the ground.

  ‘If you want to shoot him, I have no objection.’

  ‘Isn’t he just a driver?’

  ‘Pedro? No, he is in charge of drugging girls to be “used for fun” and selling them on.’

  Akulov thought back to the night he had rescued the two women. Pedro had not been there, but the drugs had. ‘Can you pick him up?’

  ‘Of course.’

  The Giant bent down and scooped up Pedro with his two huge hands.

  ‘Put him in the van with Vinyl, tie him up and then get in the front, driver’s side.’ He threw the bag into the van.

  Bravo followed Akulov’s instructions but asked, ‘What did you do to Vinyl?’

  ‘I hit him.’

  ‘You hit hard. He may be dead. I have wanted to hit him for a long time.’

  Akulov made no reply. He waited for Bravo to sit then got in beside him, Beretta still trained at his huge mass.

  ‘I need to adjust this seat; it is designed for dwarfs.’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  Bravo pushed the seat back as far as it would go and then tilted the seat-back too. He ended up sitting on the seat-back. There was the sound of something snapping as he shifted his bulk. ‘Where to.’

  ‘You have somewhere?’

  ‘I do. North-west of here in Fairbanks Heights.’

  ‘How far?’

  ‘Twenty minutes at this time of night.’

  ‘Drive.’

  Bravo turned the ignition and pulled away. Even without Akulov’s instructions he only switched on the headlights once they had turned out of Del Monte Drive. Akulov split his focus between the road ahead and Bravo. The window was open and he noticed the Giant was blinking every few seconds and taking deep breaths, but from the position he was seated in it would be impossible for him to launch an attack with any force or leverage.

  Akulov decided engaging in conversation would keep the man sharp. ‘Tell me about Detective Vinyl.’

  ‘Cheap suit, expensive shoes. He runs interference for the cartel. He was watching tonight and was supposed to call me.’

  ‘Just you or Angel too?’

  ‘Just me. I was to then keep Angel updated.’

  ‘Not Vetrov?’

  ‘No. The Russian listens to the phone calls, and advises.’

  ‘Angel is expecting a call from you?’

  ‘Sí.’

  ‘Call Angel. Tell him you have me. Tell him Vinyl says he must stay at home because the Feds are on their way to investigate the shootout at the hotel; and because of this for security reasons you have taken me to Fairbanks Heights.’

  ‘That is understandable, occasionally the FBI sniffs at us.’

  ‘Tell him to only come tomorrow. No tricks, and make it sound real.’ Akulov pulled his latest burner from his pocket and Bravo dictated the number. Akulov pressed “call” and it was picked up on the third ring. Akulov put it on speaker. The voice that answered sounded groggy, which made the Mexican accent even more pronounced and there was a giggle in the background.

  ‘Who this?’

  ‘Don Angel, it is me – Luis. I have Akulov. I am taking him to “the place”. Vinyl says the FBI are coming to investigate the shooting at the hotel, so it’s not safe to bring him to Del Monte.’

  ‘Shooting? What’s happened?’ Angel now sounded much more alert.

  ‘That Russian asshole tore through our men like they were nothing. Vinyl shot him and then Pedro stabbed him with some of the stuff he keeps in the van for the girls. So he’s sleeping.’

  ‘Tell me he’s not gonna die?’

  ‘It’s a through and through in the leg, but Vinyl is livid. He says you need to stay home until morning, in case the FBI come to Del Monte.’

  ‘He has a point, but Screw Vinyl; he’s nothing. OK, G
iant, you done good. Keep Akulov on ice for me. If he gets away, I’ll have to talk to your mother again. You understand?’

  Akulov saw anger momentarily flash across Bravo’s face, before he said, ‘Sí, Don Angel.’

  Mendez ended the call. Akulov powered down the phone, in case it was a trap and in case it was being tracked.

  ‘Was that believable enough for you?’

  Akulov knew the answer but wanted Bravo to confirm it for him. ‘Why did Angel mention your mother?’

  ‘Why do you think? He likes to remind me he knows where my mother and my sister live. If I fail him they would not like it. You see, I am risking their lives coming with you. You must understand, I want out. I want to be completely out of this life.’

  Akulov made no comment. It sounded too coincidental to him. ‘This place we are going to, you call it “the place”?’

  ‘Sí, I have a mathematical mind not a creative one.’

  Akulov saw a signpost for Fairbanks Heights. ‘Tell me about the two girls.’

  ‘The ones you took from us?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Bravo told Akulov what they had planned to do with the girls as revenge against the rival cartel.

  ‘The boyfriend is alive?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ Bravo said, matter of fact. ‘However, the father is dead.’

  ‘How did Angel find out who had ordered the hit?’

  ‘When Vetrov introduced himself to the brothers, he had a present for them. It was the head of Don Juan Arellano.’ The big man smiled. ‘He literally brought them the head of the Arellano Cartel.’

  Akulov’s mind flashed back to a different time, and a different place – it was vintage Vetrov. The minivan slowed and they took a turnpike off the highway onto an access road and then into an industrial estate. The sky was starting to turn pink as Bravo brought them to a halt in front of an industrial unit. It had both a small door for pedestrians and a large up-and-over door for delivery vehicles. ‘The keys are on the keyring for the van.’