She realized that there was a good chance they were wasting their time. It was quite possible that George Stebbins had already been dead for hours, and was even then lying in some anonymous ditch on the outskirts of Madrid. But her fervent hope was that Pere, which she thought was a deceptively pleasant name, would have decided to keep Stebbins alive for a while longer, just in case he could still be used as a bargaining counter. And if that was the reality of the situation, then the chances were that her colleague would be imprisoned somewhere in the building that was now just out of sight.
Her thoughts wandered, as she thought about what might be happening to poor old George. She would never forgive herself if he got harmed because of her. She played out several increasingly terrifying scenarios in her head, then jumped as Bronson reappeared beside the car.
Angela unlocked the doors to let him climb into the passenger seat.
‘What did you see?’ she asked.
‘It looks like a small warehouse,’ he said. ‘There are two large roller-shutter doors at the front, which are down and locked. I can see padlocks securing them to brackets on the ground, and they’re probably bolted on the inside as well. Then there’s the door we saw at the front of the building, where the light was, and there’s a side door as well, about halfway down the right-hand side of the building. Both of those could be possible entry points. As well as the light showing at the front of the building, there’s also what looks like an office at the back with lights on, so it’s reasonable to assume that somebody — more likely at least three people, bearing in mind the three cars parked outside — are in there.’
‘And your plan is?’
Bronson shrugged.
‘The same one I always have, I suppose. I’ll play it by ear.’
‘Which means what, exactly?’
‘We both go across towards the building and find a suitable place where you can keep watch. I’m going to wait for a while, in the hope that somebody comes out. If they don’t, then I’ll have to try breaking in somehow. What happens then, I have no idea, but at least I’ll be carrying the Beretta. And like I said, I’ll have the element of surprise.’
‘And I wait out here? Is that the idea?’ Angela demanded.
‘Yes,’ Bronson replied, ‘because you’re the only backup that I’ve got.’
He reached into his pocket and took out the mobile phone he had removed from the body of the assassin. He’d replaced the SIM card in its slot, but the battery and back of the phone were still not in place. He handed all three pieces of the mobile to Angela.
‘Only fit it all back together if it’s quite obvious that I’m in real trouble — shots fired, that kind of thing — and as soon as it’s working, dial 112. That’s the Pan European emergency number. When you’ve told them what’s going on, don’t end the call, just leave the line open so they can triangulate its location. As soon as you hear the sound of sirens approaching, drive away, whether I’ve come back or not.’
Angela didn’t look happy, but she nodded anyway. Moments later they climbed out of the car, closing and locking the doors as quietly as possible.
The two of them crept slowly around the back of the building which separated them from their objective, keeping close to the fence. There was no other cover they could use, but there were no windows in the side of the structure that they were approaching, and there were no streetlights near to them.
‘What about cameras?’ Angela whispered.
‘As far as I can tell,’ Bronson replied, just as quietly, ‘there are only two, both on the front of the building. One covers the pedestrian doorway and the other the main loading gate.’
‘But as soon as you approach the building, the cameras will detect you,’ Angela pointed out.
Bronson nodded.
‘I know, but there’s nothing I can do about that. I’ll just have to work fast. And in any case, once I’m inside the building, anybody in there will know about it, surveillance cameras or not.’
He glanced around as they approached the end of the wire fence, and motioned Angela towards a slight dip in the ground.
‘If you lie here,’ he said, ‘you’ll have a good view of the other building, and hopefully nobody should be able to see you.’
Angela crouched down slowly, wincing as a couple of stones dug into her knees.
‘Whatever you do,’ she said, looking up at him, ‘just be careful out there.’
Bronson grinned at her.
‘You’re starting to sound like an actor in a bad American cop show,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll take care. And I’m really glad I’ve got you watching my back.’
Without another word, Bronson walked away, his rubber-soled shoes virtually silent on the tarmac.
79
Bronson had already looked all around the building, doing his initial reconnoitre. As far as he could tell, both cameras were focused on comparatively small areas, in the immediate vicinity of each doorway. There were no cameras covering the parking area in front of the structure. Or, if there were, he hadn’t seen them.
Two of the cars he had observed earlier were parked directly in front of the larger of the two doors, while the third vehicle was further away, over to one side. He could watch from there and be hidden from view, but still be close enough to the building to react quickly to intercept anybody who came out.
He moved towards the car as fast as he could to minimize his exposure to any potential watchers inside the building, and then ducked down behind it, crouching in the shadows.
For about five minutes, he concentrated all his attention on the building in front of him and the area immediately around it, just in case anybody inside had seen his fast but stealthy approach. But he saw nobody, and no indication of any imminent threat.
Despite what he’d said to Angela, he was worried about the two cameras. If it came to breaking in, he thought he would probably be able to open the door with his collection of home-made picks. But trying to do that while being watched by the unblinking eye of a closed-circuit television camera was a very different situation. If it came to that, his best option might be to rely on speed and violence rather than stealth, to smash the lock with a round or two of nine-millimetre Parabellum ammunition.
The problem with that scenario, of course, was that if the occupants were also armed, he’d probably find himself facing two or more men carrying pistols the moment he entered the building. And that didn’t sound like a particularly good idea.
He was also keenly aware that there was no certainty that George Stebbins was actually inside the premises and, even if he was there, that he was alive. He could be embarking on a fool’s errand.
A sudden metallic sound from in front of him interrupted his reverie. He crouched lower behind the car and peered cautiously around the front of the vehicle. As he watched, the pedestrian door in the front of the building swung open and a figure stepped out and walked briskly across to one of the parked cars. The hazard flashers on the vehicle pulsed twice as he approached. He walked over to the back of the car and opened the boot.
Bronson knew immediately that this was the best chance he was likely to get.
80
The moment the boot lid sprang up, hiding the man from his view, Bronson emerged from his hiding place and sprinted towards the parked car.
The man obviously heard his approach — he would have had to have been deaf not to have heard him — and stepped out from behind the car immediately.
But it made no difference. Bronson was running hard, the pistol clutched in his right hand, and at the moment the man emerged into view, he was on him. Bronson crashed into him, smashing his shoulder into the man’s chest and knocking him backwards onto the tarmac surface of the parking area.