J.F. Kirwan - 66 Metres - A chilling thriller that will keep you on the edge of your seat!

‘Close the fucking door!’

Nadia glared at Janssen, and tugged the door shut with a definitive clunk. Sammy wandered over and flipped the latch, locking them in. His crash helmet hung from his left hand. With his back to Janssen, Sammy caught Nadia’s eye and raised an eyebrow.

Katya had also warned Nadia about Janssen. Said his ideas were a lot bigger than his delivery. She’d had to be careful with him in the bedroom. But Katya had said something else – which Nadia had not quite understood at the time – that Janssen was most dangerous when he turned his back on you.

She and Sammy joined the others at the battered table, a cylindrical device in its centre, smooth silver metal except for a couple of red LED displays that pulsed slowly, like a heartbeat. It was about the same size as a large tin of vegetables. The Rose .

A siren wailed in the distance, made all five of them glance at one another. Janssen, his bone-white hair lashed back in a ponytail, spread his arms wide.

‘Stay cool. They have no idea where we are,’ he said. His pale blue eyes were relaxed, as if he didn’t care about anything.

Nobody spoke, least of all Janssen’s men, Toby and Kilroy. They stood to his right, Toby bald and paunchy, eyes darting here and there, mainly toward the door. Kilroy was a good two heads taller, unmoving. Tattoos on his fingers, like rings, marked him as hard-core Mafia. The type you never spoke to. Neither Kilroy nor Toby looked happy, but there was resignation there. Clearly this wasn’t the first time a job with Janssen had been screwed up.

Nadia knew she should stay quiet. She’d never spoken out when her dad had been around, no matter what he’d done. Once he’d gone, though, she’d developed what her mother called a trouble-mouth.

‘The policemen back in London… Are they dead? The news isn’t saying.’

Janssen leaned forward across the table. ‘Less you know, the better.’

She folded her arms. ‘Theft of this magnitude is five years’ hard time. Accessory to murder is fifteen. Especially a copper.’

Sammy moved away from her, cradling his helmet in his arms.

‘Then you’ll get thirty,’ Janssen said. ‘Girl like you’ll go down well in prison.’ He leered, and Toby and Kilroy half-snorted, half-laughed at the innuendo.

Nadia wasn’t laughing. Nine ops for Kadinsky. Two wounded, zero fatalities. She had a hunch Janssen had a different scorecard.

‘What now?’ she asked.

Janssen prodded the Rose with a forefinger. ‘Sammy-boy, you sure the homing beacon is deactivated?’

‘I know my job.’

Janssen nodded.

This was the point at which Janssen should pay them the first half, give her back her passport, and head to the airfield. But he didn’t move, and said no more. The silence hung in the humid air, and the mood around the table shifted. Nadia couldn’t put her finger on it, but Toby stopped glancing around, and Kilroy’s lips curled into an ugly smile. The back of Nadia’s neck prickled. She tried not to react. Her gut told her to sprint for the door.

Janssen turned his back on them all and walked a few steps from the table. Toby watched Sammy. Kilroy studied her. Nadia did a rapid risk analysis: Janssen was going to double-cross Kadinsky. She and Sammy were corpses-in-waiting. Three of them against her and Sammy. Bad odds. She stared at the Rose. It was the key. She’d told Sammy she had his back, but did she? Could she kill one of these men? Nadia imagined her father rising up out of wherever the hell they’d buried him, watching her, waiting, willing her to become like him. And her mother… Christ! It was like a custody battle that reached far beyond the grave. Forget it. Focus .

Janssen’s voice echoed around the desolate room. ‘Nadia, you ditch your pistol on the way down like we agreed?’

‘Sure,’ she lied. She kept her arms folded, and did the thumbs-inside-fist trick again.

It calmed her breathing. She unfolded her arms casually. She met Kilroy’s eyes. He looked at her like she was already a piece of dead meat on the floor, and screwable into the bargain.

She kept her voice level. ‘We take the package back to Kadinsky, Janssen, as agreed.’

She reached out and picked up the Rose. It was heavier than it looked. Kilroy’s eyes narrowed. The fingers of his right hand uncurled. She ignored him and studied Janssen. He still had his back to them. His head turned halfway, as if listening, but she noticed his right arm move slowly, as if searching for something inside his jacket.

‘Afraid not, Nadia,’ Janssen said.

She took a breath, knowing that when shit happened, it only took seconds.

One .

Toby went for his gun, but Sammy was quicker, and slam-dunked his crash helmet down onto Toby’s flabby face. Nadia tossed the Rose into the air. Kilroy had been going for his weapon but his mouth dropped open as his eyes followed the vertical arc of their prize, his large hands reaching to catch it.

Two .

Toby staggered backwards, blood streaming from a pulped nose, and drew his gun, but a sharp crack exploded in the room as Sammy shot him in the chest. Toby toppled backwards onto the floor, eyes wide open. Nadia slid the safety off her Beretta, but it got caught in the folds of her anorak, wouldn’t come out of its pocket. She pulled her empty hand out just as Janssen whirled around, gripping a silver Magnum. Kilroy caught the Rose, but was staring down the barrel of Sammy’s Glock.

Three .

Janssen levelled the Magnum first at her, saw she was unarmed, then tried to draw a bead on Sammy. But Kilroy was directly between Sammy and Janssen. Janssen took a step forward. Sammy mirrored the movement, keeping Kilroy in the line of fire.

‘Stay there, Janssen,’ Sammy said. ‘Nadia and I are leaving. Keep the Rose, and the money. We’ll give you a twelve-hour head-start before we call Kadinsky.’

Nadia glanced at the door ten metres behind them. They’d never make it. Janssen looked confident. She backed away to the side, in full view of Janssen.

‘Sammy, you go, you know I can’t,’ she said, continuing to back away, trying to gauge the angle. Both Janssen and Kilroy had the hungry eyes of men who thought they were in control, about to inflict mortal harm. Kilroy shifted the Rose to his left hand, leaving his gun-hand free, fingers flexed.

‘Nad, what are you doing? You are coming with me,’ Sammy said, his voice taut. ‘They’ll kill you for sure.’

She took one more step backwards. The angle was right. One-twenty degrees. If Janssen looked straight at Sammy, she’d be in Janssen’s blind spot. She watched his eyes.

‘Looks like you’re on your own, Sammy-boy.’ Janssen took a small step forward.

Nadia’s right hand slipped into her anorak pocket again, found the cool grip of her Beretta. She reckoned she could maim Janssen without killing him. Inserting her finger in front of the trigger, she took a breath, and pulled out the Beretta. Janssen’s head turned first, then his Magnum swung in her direction. Look into their eyes, her father had said. But she blinked as she fired, the recoil punching back into her shoulder, the gunshot like a smack across both ears. The pungent smell of the expended cartridge stung her nostrils.

Janssen went down.

Another crack from Sammy’s pistol made her glance left to see Kilroy wavering like a man on a tightrope, a pistol hanging from his right hand. The Rose slipped from the other hand and fell to the floor with a dull thud. Kilroy had a blackened hole in the centre of his neck. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, as if he had something to say, but all that came out was a gurgling noise as blood rushed forth. He collapsed onto the dusty floor.