Stephen Leather - The Double Tap

He rubbed his stomach. The pain was pretty much constant, though occasionally it felt as if a knife was being twisted deep inside, a reminder that he shouldn’t be complacent, that there was worse to come. While he was being trained, and while he was waiting for the assassin to make his move, Cramer had managed to blot the pain out of his mind, but now it was over it had returned with a vengeance.

He realised that Su-ming wasn’t in the room with him. He went in search of her and found her in Vander Mayer’s study, standing by the desk. She looked up as he walked towards her. ‘Cramer. .’ she said, her voice trembling.

She was shaking as if she had a fever and there were tears in her eyes. Cramer stepped forward and held her tightly, pressing her against himself as if his life depended on it. Her small hands slipped around his waist as she buried her face in his chest. Cramer stroked her black, silky hair with his right hand as she sobbed. ‘Hey, it’s all right,’ he soothed.

He caught sight of his reflection in the mirrored wall. Su-ming looked like a child next to him and he suddenly felt big and clumsy. Cramer saw that he still had the killer’s blood on his face. He looked like he’d just walked away from a traffic accident; there were black circles under his eyes, his hair was in disarray and there was an unhealthy pallor to his skin. He hadn’t realised until then how sick he looked. She squeezed him but there was hardly any strength in the movement and she continued to cry softly. Cramer wondered if it was the first time she’d seen anyone killed. Flying first-class around the world with an international arms-dealer was one thing, seeing the effects of the tools of the trade close-up was a different matter all together.

The doorbell rang. He tried to untangle her arms from around his waist but she tightened her grip and wouldn’t let him go. The doorbell rang again. ‘I have to get it,’ said Cramer. Su-ming reluctantly released him and Cramer went back to the sitting room to answer the door.

It was the Colonel. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

Cramer nodded. ‘How’s Allan?’

‘The paramedics said he’ll be okay. Allan keeps insisting that it’s just a flesh wound, but he’d say that if his arm had been blown off. You know what he’s like.’

‘Yeah. He saved my life.’

‘He did his job. You both did, Joker. You should be proud of yourself.’

‘I fucked up,’ said Cramer. ‘I fucked up big time.’

‘We got the guy, and that’s what counts.’

‘I froze. I pushed Su-ming out of the way, then I froze. I did everything wrong.’

The Colonel tapped his walking stick on the wooden floor. ‘Stop playing the martyr, will you? We took out a professional killer, the best in the business. And we did it with the minimum of casualties. No one’s blaming you, Joker. No one. How is Su-ming?’

‘She’s in shock,’ Cramer answered.

‘The doctor’s on his way. He’ll give her something.’

Cramer nodded, but he wasn’t convinced that it was tablets that Su-ming needed. ‘What about Martin?’ he asked.

The Colonel grinned. ‘Just a bump on the head. He was in the boot of the Mercedes, bound and gagged. He’s embarrassed more than anything.’

‘He’s lucky they didn’t kill him.’

‘There was no need. Vander Mayer was the target, and Martin wasn’t a threat. Allan was.’

Cramer rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand. He was sweating. ‘That’s what I can’t figure out,’ he said. ‘Why did he hesitate?’

‘What do you mean?’ asked the Colonel.

‘He had the drop on me, Colonel. He had me bang to rights. But he waited.’

‘It was bedlam, Joker. He was in the middle of a firefight. Richards was there, Allan had his gun out, it wasn’t going the way he’d planned.’

‘Yeah, but he’s always been such a pro in the past. Nothing’s fazed him before.’

‘No one had set him up before.’ The Colonel put a reassuring hand on Cramer’s shoulder. ‘You’re worrying too much.’

‘Post-traumatic stress syndrome?’ said Cramer, sarcastically. ‘I don’t think so. Been there, done that. This is different. Something’s not right. He was trying to say something. Before he pulled the trigger, he wanted to tell me something.’

The Colonel squeezed Cramer’s shoulder. ‘Forget it. You’re worrying about nothing. You did a good job, Joker. A hell of a job.’

‘Thanks, Colonel.’ Cramer shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. ‘What happens now?’

‘I’m winding down the operation here. We’ll run the killer’s prints through the Fingerprint Bureau and we should have an ID by tonight.’

‘I meant, what happens to me?’

There was an uncomfortable silence as the Colonel considered Cramer’s question. ‘What do you want to do?’ asked the Colonel eventually.

‘I don’t know. I really don’t know.’

‘Why don’t you sleep on it. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.’

‘It’s not as if I have many options, is it?’

‘We’ll talk about it tomorrow,’ the Colonel repeated firmly. ‘Okay?’

Cramer nodded. He showed the Colonel out and then went back to the study. Su-ming didn’t appear to have moved. He put his arms around her. She’d stopped trembling, now she was as stiff as a tailor’s dummy. They stood together in silence, looking out of the window.

It was Su-ming who broke away first. ‘I have to call Mr Vander Mayer,’ she said.

‘Sure. He’ll be glad to hear that he’s in the clear.’

Su-ming picked up the phone and looked at Cramer. The message in her eyes was obvious. She wanted to make the call in private.

Cramer shrugged and walked disconsolately back to the sitting room. He stared out of the window, deep in thought. A few minutes later she reappeared carrying a mobile telephone. ‘He wants to speak with you,’ she said, holding it out.

There was static on the line and a short satellite delay. ‘Mike? Congratulations. First class.’

‘Thanks,’ said Cramer. He didn’t think that two men in hospital and a dead SAS trooper was something to be congratulated on. And he was still embarrassed about his own performance, or lack of it.

‘Mike, listen. Remember the conversation we had before? About the Russian consignment?’

‘Yes. I remember.’

‘Well I want you to stay with it until I get there.’

‘It’s in your safe,’ said Cramer. ‘It’s not going anywhere.’

‘I’d feel a lot happier if you’d keep an eye on it,’ said Vander Mayer. ‘The fee we spoke of, it’s still available. A quarter of a million dollars.’

Cramer looked at Su-ming. She was pacing up and down in front of the window. ‘Where are you now?’ he asked.

‘I can be there in eight hours. Nine, max.’

Cramer nodded slowly. ‘Okay. I’ll be here.’

‘Great, Mike. Great. Now put Su-ming back on will you?’

Cramer handed the phone back to Su-ming. She pressed it to her ear and walked back along the corridor to the study, her shoes making no sound on the polished wooden floor. As she left the sitting room she whispered into the receiver but Cramer couldn’t hear what she was saying.

The Colonel picked up the phone and tapped out Dan Greenberg’s private number. The FBI agent answered on the second ring. The Colonel gave him a quick rundown on the situation but Greenberg interrupted him before he could finish. ‘Hot damn, good job,’ said Greenberg. The Colonel heard him shout over to his co-workers that the Brits had got their man. ‘You guys deserve a medal,’ said Greenberg. ‘And you saved us the cost of a trial, huh?’

‘That wasn’t intentional, Dan,’ said the Colonel archly. ‘He was about to kill our man.’