Z-Series (Book 4): Z-Takeover Page 5

  “Thank ya, Einstein. Always wanted to know that. How’d ya know all that sort of shit?”

  “Dunno.”

  “Shoo dog!” Mamba ordered but the dog just looked at him. “Come on,” he said to Ahmed over his shoulder and started walking North.

  After twenty metres, he stopped and turned to find the dog still following a few metres behind them, stopping when they did.

  “What’s the dog’s name?” Ahmed asked.

  “Fuck knows. ‘Dog’ I guess. Why don’t ya check if it’s got a nametag?” he asked with a grin.

  “Fuck that! Gonna have ta lose it or kill it, tho,” Ahmed said. “It’s tellin’ everyone where we’re at.”

  “He’s OK for now,” Mamba replied. “He saved me, so I owe him.”

  “He’ll get ya killed!”

  Fifty metres further on and Mamba reached the pub he had spotted in his guide. It was called ‘The White Hart’, and he was about to try the door when Ahmed spoke.

  “Wrong one.”

  Mamba looked back.

  “What ya mean, ‘wrong one’?”

  Ahmed pointed across the road to another pub called ‘The Old Vaults’.

  “Ya said we’d meet Basir over there.”

  “I’m not fuckin’ stupid!” Mamba replied. “He’ll go there, and we’ll be over here watchin’ for a tail...”

  “Literally,” Ahmed opined, looking at the dog, but the comment was lost on Mamba.

  “Or in case he double-crosses us,” Mamba continued, ignoring Ahmed’s comment.

  Instead, Mamba took out his knives and prepared to open the door to The White Hart.

  9

  Day 16 – 13:30

  Dalston Estate, London

  Basir walked out of the house that he’d used to get back into the estate undetected. It had been weird seeing Mamba and Ahmed again, and he wasn’t really sure if he was pleased to see them or not.

  He made his way directly to the church. It had been converted into a museum at some point in the past, but it was still referred to as the church and it was the place where Sully spent the vast majority of his time.

  Basir was blocked at the entrance by a couple of Sully’s guards, but they quickly allowed him through once he’d told them that Sully was expecting him. Sully wasn’t, but Basir was sure he’d want to know what he had to tell him.

  Basir emptied his pockets and placed his weapons on the sideboard in the vestibule, his every move being watched carefully by other body guards who proceeded to pat him down once he had finished.

  Basir was directed into the main chamber and gave himself a minute to let his eyes adjust to the gloom before moving deeper into the room.

  “Ah, Basir,” came a voice from the shadows somewhere in front of him. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  Basir looked around, trying to pick out Sully, but it was as if Sully had melted into the building’s features and was nowhere to be seen.

  Basir took a few more cautious steps forward, making sure he didn’t walk into anything or trip over.

  “Sorry for disturbing you,” Basir started, looking at the floor, “but I have a message for you from Mamba.”

  There was a low chuckle. “Been playing with that Ouija board again?” Sully suggested.

  Basir was baffled by the comment.

  “Erm, sorry, but what Ouija Board?” he enquired carefully. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Figure of speech,” Sully replied, “but as Mamba’s dead, then I’m not sure how else he’d manage to get a message to you.”

  “He’s not dead. I’ve just been speaking to him. And Ahmed.”

  There was a few seconds silence while Sully mulled it over then he started laughing, then coughing and spluttering.

  “Are you OK?” Basir asked.

  The coughing died down and Basir saw one of Sully’s girls hand him a drink of something.

  “So, Mamba’s still around,” Sully replied, shaking his massive head slowly. “Why am I not surprised? And those idiots at Heathrow think they’ve killed him!” Sully started laughing again. “What’s the message?”

  Basir told him and this made Sully laugh more.

  “He’s got a fucking nerve,” he stated, whilst thinking ‘and nine lives, the lucky bastard’.

  “What should I tell him?” Basir asked carefully.

  “Tell him to get his arse here as quickly as possible. There are visitors on the way. You can also tell him…”

  Basir left the room quickly, picking up his weapons on the way out. He headed back to the house he’d used before, and quickly moved to the secret rat run below ground.

  10

  Day 16 – 14:00

  Dalston Estate, London

  Basir was excited and couldn’t wait to get to Mamba, but he knew that he had to keep his discipline and take his time, otherwise Mamba would kill him, assuming the zombies didn’t get him first.

  He detoured around the surrounding streets, doubling back from time to time and scanning everywhere to see if he was being watched or followed.

  He entered a couple of shops and left via the rear entrance and he swapped some of his clothing to further confuse any potential tracker.

  Eventually he was confident that he wasn’t being followed so he looped around until he was back on Kingsland High Street and heading for The Old Vaults.

  He approached the pub cautiously, continuing to look around to check he wasn’t being observed. He took out a knife and carefully opened the door and slid inside, closing the door behind him and leaning back against it.

  He couldn’t see a great deal but heard a couple of scrapes further inside.

  “Mamba? Is that you?” he asked the darkness.

  There was no response, but he heard a couple of footsteps and the next thing he knew, a zombie was right in front of him, its teeth snapping and aiming for his face. Basir instinctively tried to back off but was stopped by the pub’s door.

  In his mounting panic he thrust out an arm, forgetting that it was holding his knife. The knife entered the zombie’s chest but did nothing except prevent it getting any closer to him.

  Basir started hyperventilating, trying to push the zombie away with his other arm, beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead. The noise they were making was drawing further attention and he realised to his dismay that there were other zombies in the room.

  Basir was shitting himself. He didn’t know what to do, he’d never been in this situation before. He tried to think what Mamba had taught him, but his mind had gone blank.

  He felt his arm trembling with the pressure and saw that the zombie was inching closer. It would only be a matter of seconds before the zombie was on top of him if he didn’t do something quickly.

  In the end, Basir reacted like any cornered animal; he reacted without thinking. His right leg shot out and luckily connected with the zombie’s left knee. There was a cracking sound and the zombie lurched to its left, pulling Basir down towards the floor with it. The knife came free and Basir didn’t think twice before plunging it into the zombie’s head.

  The zombie lay inert as Basir quickly climbed back to his feet, knife ready to stab anything else that came near him. There was another zombie, but this one seemed less interested in him. Basir didn’t wait to see what was going to happen next and took a couple of paces forwards and stabbed it through the right eye. The zombie slumped to the floor.

  Basir was panting heavily and looking around frantically for any other immediate danger. He saw another zombie, but it was moving in the opposite direction.

  Basir took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself, then noticed the fresh blood all down his front. That must’ve been why the other zombies were no longer interested in him. But he’d already been ‘dirty’, so he guessed that it must have rubbed off or something. He’d never forget to refresh the blood and guts before entering a building ever again.

  As his heart slowed, Basir looked around the pub, his eyes now fully adjusted to the lig
ht in the room. There was obviously no Mamba or Ahmed, so Basir began to wonder if they had set him up. Did they do it on purpose so that the zombies would get him? No. That didn’t make any sense. Mamba wanted him to deliver a message and would be waiting for the answer, which would have been a little difficult if Basir had been killed by these monsters. Unless Mamba and Ahmed were into Ouija boards. Basir smiled to himself. Now he understood Sully’s comment.

  So, if Mamba and Ahmed weren’t here, where the fuck were they? He was sure they’d said ‘The Old Vaults’, but perhaps he was mistaken? He turned and opened the door to the street, wondering what he should do next. It was then that he heard a low whistle and followed its sound to find Mamba and Ahmed standing in the doorway of the pub opposite, The White Hart. He was bloody sure they hadn’t said to meet there, so perhaps they were testing him after all.

  Basir stepped onto the pavement and closed the pub’s door behind him. He looked around carefully and once satisfied, edged into the road and shuffled to the other pub.

  Mamba and Ahmed had left the door ajar and Basir entered. Suddenly there was barking and Basir instinctively withdrew his knife, ready to defend himself once again. He heard a ‘quiet dog’ and the room went silent.

  “Come in Basir,” Mamba invited him in. “Want a drink?”

  “Yeah, scotch. A large one,” Basir answered as he put his knife away and headed to the bar.

  “What took ya so long?” Mamba asked. “Ya look worse than usual.”

  “I didn’t know there’d be fucking zombies in the other pub. They nearly caught me out, but here I am.”

  “Well, we weren’t gonna clear it for ya. Anyway, looks like ya listened to me, otherwise ya wouldn’t be here.”

  “You’re right Mamba. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.” Basir replied. Mamba missed the sarcasm, but Ahmed chuckled softly a few metres away. Mamba looked at him, wondering what was so funny.

  Mamba handed Basir his drink, which he downed in one then passed the glass back for a refill.

  Mamba frowned but took the glass to fill it up again.

  “So, what did Sully say?” Mamba asked as he poured the drink.

  “He asked if I had used an Ouija board to communicate with you,” Basir replied.

  Mamba and Ahmed both laughed.

  “Ha, so everyone believes I’m dead,” Mamba surmised, thinking his plan had worked perfectly. “What else?”

  “He said he has some incoming visitors and thinks you should, and I quote, ‘Tell him to get his arse here as quickly as possible’.”

  “Visitors?”

  “Heathrow.”

  “What? Is that fat fucker plannin’ to hand me over like some sort of present?”

  “I don’t think so. They’re bringing Ayla back and he thought that you might like to be there. He thought you might want to gloat, and he said he would protect you on his turf.”

  Mamba thought about it then looked to Ahmed. Ahmed just shrugged.

  “It’s temptin’,” Mamba muttered, “but I don’t trust that fat fuck. Who’s bringin’ Ayla back?”

  “Dunno, he didn’t say.”

  “When is it happenin’?”

  “Dunno. Soon, I think.”

  “Is there anythin’ ya do know?” Mamba asked sarcastically.

  “Yeah, lots,” Basir replied, not realising that it had been a rhetorical question.

  Mamba just shook his head, took a puff on his cigarette and considered whether he should make an appearance.

  11

  Day 16 – 15:00

  Dalston Estate, London

  The Lynx carrying Issy, Gina, Don and Ayla swooped over the Dalston Estate and headed for the parking area they had landed on during their previous visit. One of the Apache helicopters stayed circling the estate a couple of kilometres away, far enough to avoid any hand-held weapons, but close enough to let a few of their own loose if the need arose.

  The group was again met by Hakan and several guards and they led Issy, Gina and Ayla along the same path towards the church, while Don stayed behind to look after the pilots and the heli. People had come out of their homes to watch; life was generally boring these days, so anything which broke the monotony was a welcome respite.

  They entered the church and Hakan politely asked them to remove their weapons in the vestibule.

  “I’m keeping the knives,” Issy spat and Hakan nodded his consent. She removed her MP5 and Glock pistol and placed them on the sideboard and Gina followed suit.

  As before, they were led into the main room and directed to the seats near Sully.

  “Welcome, welcome,” Sully spoke before glancing at Ayla then back to Issy and Gina. “Thank you for bringing my errant child back safely. Would you like something to drink?”

  “This is Issy and Gina,” Ayla explained for Sully’s benefit.

  “Yes, I’ve met Issy before, but not this vision of loveliness,” he added, referring to Gina.

  “She’s been hanging out with Mamba,” Issy stated, accusingly, “but I guess you already know that.”

  “Matters of the heart are beyond my comprehension,” Sully replied.

  “Why does that not surprise me?” Issy hissed. “Well, at least there is one less mad bastard wandering around causing trouble.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Sully stated with a smile on his face.

  Issy tried to read his face to see if he was lying, but it was so fleshy she couldn’t see anything but two piggy eyes and a large grinning mouth. She expected a tongue to snap out of the cavity to snatch an insect out of the air at any second.

  “Mamba is dead,” Gina explained.

  “Ah, so the pretty one speaks,” Sully observed. “And what makes you think he’s dead sweet cheeks?”

  Gina coloured and berated herself for doing so. She’d heard far worse on many occasions from passengers when she was working as a member of the cabin crew on the planes, but it was the way he seemed to be belittling her that she was not used to, and certainly didn’t like. He didn’t know anything about her. Being told she had nice tits and having her arse slapped was part and package of the abuse she received on a daily basis, but this monstrous looking thing was treating her as if there was nothing between her ears.

  “We have the body,” Gina retorted.

  “Is that right?” Sully asked sarcastically. “Are you absolutely sure of that? Plenty of bodies out there you know?” Sully waved a fat arm around his head for emphasis.

  Gina and Issy looked at each other, both fearing the worst. Issy hadn’t been convinced Mamba was dead, despite the ‘proof’. Now Sully was fuelling this doubt and Gina could see it written all over her face. Perhaps he was just trying to wind them up.

  “As sure as we can be,” Gina retorted.

  “Anyway, we want to talk about your daughter’s involvement in bombing Heathrow,” Issy interrupted.

  “I told you I had nothing to do with it,” Ayla replied heatedly.

  Sully shrugged. Well, it looked like a shrug, but it was hard to tell. It could equally have been a deep breath. “Water under the bridge,” he suggested.

  There was some raised voices from the vestibule and all heads turned in that direction.

  Mamba strode into the room with a huge smile across his face, closely followed by Ahmed, Basir and a couple of guards who were rubbing their faces.

  “They took us by surprise,” one of the guards grunted as an excuse, still trying to get his breath back and catch up with Mamba and Ahmed at the same time. Hakan flicked his hand and the guards immediately turned and left the room without another word. They would be dealt with later.

  Mamba turned his glowing smile on Issy and Gina, who sitting on the exact seats he himself had used not so long ago.

  “Well, looky what we have here,” he said slyly. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Mamba.” He held out his hand.

  Issy ignored the gesture and immediately reached for her knife. Several pistols were immediately trained o
n her by the surrounding guards.

  “Put it down,” Hakan ordered. “We’re all friends in here. This is Issy and Gina.”

  “We’re not fucking friends,” Issy hissed.

  “Not very nice,” Mamba mocked. He turned to Sully. “Hi Dad! How’s it hangin’?” He then glanced at Ayla and winked, while she responded with a huge grin. She wanted to run over to hug him but knew this was not the right time.

  “I’m not your Dad, thank God,” Sully muttered. “I just thought you lot might like to sort out your differences,” he added, pointing at Issy and Gina then at Mamba and Ahmed. “I’ll be the independent referee.”

  “You’ve got to be joking!” Issy shouted. “Do you know what this animal has done?”

  “Nothing good, I’m sure,” Sully remarked, “but then, none of us is perfect.”

  Issy’s eyes hadn’t left Mamba’s, and although he had a smile on his face, she could see there was no warmth in his look. He was like a cold-blooded reptile, watching her lazily, and she could almost see the cogs turning in his mind as he decided how to play it out.

  “Two strikes,” Mamba taunted softly in her direction, holding up and waggling the first two fingers of his right hand to signify the amount, but really to gesture what he was really thinking. “Zero fer two as the yanks would say, or is it two fer zero, I can never remember. Third strike ‘n yer out.”

  Issy sat back slowly, willing herself to remain calm. She heard the Major in her earpiece telling her to keep it together and that he and Jack were watching the situation carefully.

  “We know what you look like now,” Issy said with a cunning smile, pointing to the camera on her helmet, “so we won’t miss again, that’s a promise. Keep watching out for the drones.”

  “Ya threatenin’ me?” Mamba asked, still smiling.

  “I don’t make threats,” Issy taunted back.

  Mamba looked to Gina. “Hi gorgeous.” He winked. He was about to say some more, but then remembered Ayla was only a few metres away. Ah, what the hell, he could always tell her he was just playing. “I can see that ya fancy me, lickin’ yer lips all seductive, like.”