"So what do we have?" asked Melody. "I have my Diemaco. I can find myself a perch and cover you two if you want to find a weakness in that old fence?"

  "I have my Sig, plus we both have MP-5s in our packs," said Derby. "There's a strip of wasteland between the boatyard and the next one. I suggest Barnet and I take a side each. Can you cover us both?"

  "Shouldn't be an issue in daylight," replied Melody.

  "You have a perch in mind?"

  "The apartment building," said Melody. "It's perfect."

  "But what about-"

  "Sharp?" asked Melody. "I'm sure he won't mind me. Besides, I'll be up on the roof."

  "You don't think it's a bit close for comfort?"

  "Derby, from up there I can shoot the first person who steps out of that workshop. If you two are inside the perimeter, you'll have free reign of the outside. But once you're on the inside, I'll lose all visual, and you'll be on your own. That MP-5 will be your only friend. Remember, priority one is to get Reg and Jess out, the second is to save the refugees. The only way we're going to accomplish that is by taking down Ferez and his men."

  "One thing bothers me, Melody," said Derby. "If there were enough of them to take Reg, Jess and all the others, we're going to need to be pretty tight for three of us to get through them."

  "I thought about that too," said Melody. "But Reg and Jess aren't exactly trained killers. It was only you, Barnet and me that were ever going to go tactical and take them down anyway."

  "Like I said, Melody," said Derby. "If they took Gordon and Sharp down-"

  "Then we'll just need to make sure it's us that comes out on top," said Melody. "We're the last line of defence here. Reg and the others will be depending on us."

  "Okay, let's split up," said Barnet, who stood waiting on the corner of a small intersection in the backstreets. "Derby and I will take the flanks. Melody, if you get yourself up on the roof, we'll give you ten minutes to put your weapon together before we move in."

  "Yep," agreed Melody. "It should be enough time to get set up. We don't have comms so do as much as you guys can in the open, and I'll pick them off as they appear."

  "Got it," said Derby. "Right, move now. I'll mark ten minutes. Be ready."

  Harvey studied the boatyard, committing the layout to memory, and then left the apartment building by the stairs. He took the fire exit door that led to a warren of alleyways to the rear of the building, thinking that the front door would be monitored. The old fire escape looked as though it hadn't been used for years.

  For Harvey's plan to work, his assumptions needed to be correct. He had no real facts. He didn't know who the men were, or how trained they would be.

  Expect the worst.

  Harvey's assumptions were based on stealth. If two men tried to enter the boatyard, they wouldn't walk through the gate; they'd use the wasteland to either side of the yard. And they'd split up. One team on the right side, one on the left, leaving a sniper somewhere to call the shots.

  They'd go in on foot, and for that, they'd need to prep somewhere quiet before they stepped into the open, somewhere like the maze of backstreets in which Harvey now found himself.

  If his assumptions were wrong, it would be a big mistake. He'd left the boatyard wide open.

  Harvey turned a corner quietly. He saw the first man, crouched down in a doorway, rummaging through a backpack. He moved quickly but controlled.

  Harvey took one step at a time, slow and silent, keeping out of the man's peripheral vision as much as he could. Only when Harvey got up close behind him, he saw the man was assembling an MP-5 from the parts in his pack, and that his Sig stuck out of his waistband.

  "Don't move," said Harvey, quiet but firm. "Don't turn around."

  The man froze.

  Harvey whipped the Sig from the man's belt.

  "Hands," said Harvey.

  The man raised his hands.

  Harvey checked the MP-5. It was still missing the bolt and magazine. No danger there.

  "You have cuffs?"

  "In my-"

  "No talking," said Harvey. He kept three steps back. A trained man could spot an opportune moment to turn the tables.

  "Cuff yourself," said Harvey. "Tight."

  He waited and checked all around him as the man pulled a pack of plasticuffs from his bag, and began to put them on.

  "Tight," Harvey reminded him.

  The man gave a sharp jerk to demonstrate how tight they were.

  "Okay, time for answers," Harvey began. "Where's the rest of the team?"

  "Mate," said the man, turning his head.

  Harvey slammed the butt of the handgun into his temple.

  "I said, don't turn around."

  The cuffed man knelt on the ground and winced at the pain. A small trickle of blood began to run from the fresh wound.

  "Where's the rest of you?" asked Harvey.

  "Rest of who?" the man replied.

  "You don't know me. You don't know what I'm capable of. So I'll give you that one," said Harvey. "Any more lies or cheap attempts at stalling for time, and I'll cut your throat."

  Harvey remained totally calm. The man had begun to sweat, a sure sign of fear. Adrenaline would be surging through him, and fight or flight would kick in. Harvey needed to control that. He needed the fear.

  "Do I need to ask again?" he asked the man.

  "I don't know. We split up."

  "So what's the plan?" asked Harvey.

  "What plan?"

  "I warned you once."

  The man sighed. "You don't know who you're dealing with here, mate."

  "Can I presume judging by the fact that you're on the north side of the boatyard that your mate is somewhere back there on the south side also assembling an MP-5?"

  The man didn't reply.

  "I'll be honest with you," said Harvey. "In four and a half hours, I'll be dragging your body into that boatyard along with your friend’s. I can kill you fast or slow, and that all depends on what you tell me."

  Harvey felt the man's body relax, a sign of defeat. His next reaction would determine Harvey's. He would either break down, deny knowledge and beg, or he'd be aggressive.

  "Go fuck yourself," said the man.

  Harvey smiled and raised the gun to the back of his head.

  An approaching car caught Harvey's attention. He kicked the man forward through the open doorway into the abandoned shop. Harvey followed him inside then helped him to his feet by pulling on the back of his shirt.

  "Up," said Harvey, shoving him towards the staircase. Harvey looked around. The room was a mess with smashed furniture across the floor and the door hanging off its hinges.

  "To the top," said Harvey, following at a safe distance.

  "I'm telling you, mate. You don't know who you're dealing with here."

  Harvey didn't reply.

  At the top of the stairs, the man paused and turned back to Harvey.

  "Do you really want to do this?" he asked.

  Harvey kicked him through to the roof but noticed as he followed that the doors were riddled with bullet holes. He scanned the small roof space as his prisoner struggled to get to his feet.

  "Talk to me," said Harvey. "Tell me what you're doing here."

  "Same as you mate, earning a living," he replied. Harvey caught him searching the surrounding rooftops, probably for one of his team.

  "Do you know who I am?"

  "Why would I know you? Are you famous?"

  "I try not to be," said Harvey. "Who do you work for?"

  "I deliver pizza."

  "With an MP-5?" Harvey began to circle the man. He stopped behind him.

  "It's a rough neighbourhood," said the man, and started to turn.

  "Face the front," said Harvey. "Don't move."

  "Are you going to tell me who you work for?"

  Harvey ignored him.

  "What do you know about the girls?"

  "Girls?"

  "The refugees," said Harvey. "What do you know about them?"

  "Not a lot. Did they order pizza?"

  "You know what? I really didn't want to have to kill you, but you are beginning to piss me off."

  "Am I supposed to be scared?"

  Harvey was impressed. All too often, he came up against men that crumpled when they faced death. This man was behaving differently. It was something beyond training.

  Harvey moved in. He placed the muzzle of the handgun into the base of the man's spine and searched his pockets for his wallet. He found it with his phone, a small folding case with some euros and an ID card.

  "Your name's Barnet?"

  "That's with a capital B."

  Harvey saw the back of the man's ears lift as he grinned with sarcasm.

  "Well, Barnet," said Harvey, tossing the wallet to the floor, "on your knees."

  "I prefer to die standing up if it's all the same to you."

  Harvey kicked out at the back of the man's legs. He immediately fell to the ground.

  "Knees," said Harvey.

  Barnet rolled over to his front and managed to shuffle onto his knees with his hands still bound tight by the plasticuffs.

  "I prefer it when you kneel," said Harvey. "I get less blood on my clothes."

  He raised the weapon once more to Barnet's head and saw the defiant man squeeze his eyes shut. It was make or break time. Harvey had seen even the toughest men break just moments before they were about to die. Harvey paused just long enough to give Barnet that chance.

  It was during that decisive few seconds when his life hung in the balance of Harvey's intuition that Barnet's phone began to vibrate.

  "You look pretty in that dress," said Fernando, as he pulled the car away from his house. He reached across and put his hand on Bella's exposed thigh. She shuddered at his touch.

  "It won't always be like this," he said, removing his hand. "One day soon, you will be more willing. It will be easier."

  Bella stared out of the window, seeing Athens for the first time in daylight.

  "What do you think of my city?" asked Fernando.

  "I haven't seen much of it," she replied.

  "But from what you see now, it's pretty, no?"

  "The flowers are colourful."

  "And look at the ocean, Bella." Fernando held his hand out in front, presenting her with the Mediterranean. "See how it sparkles like thousands of jewels. It has always captivated me."

  "Captivated?" asked Bella. "What is this?"

  "It is when a person is so fixed on something, they cannot bear to turn their head and look elsewhere."

  "And what is the opposite of captivated?" asked Bella. She remained watching the houses pass by, but she wasn't really looking.

  "It is repulsed," said Fernando.

  "Repulsed?"

  "Repulsed."

  "So if a person cannot bear to look at something, they are repulsed?"

  "Yes."

  "And if they cannot bear to turn away, they are captivated?"

  "Yes," said Fernando. "Where did you learn English? It is very good, I have to say."

  "My father was strict. He made me learn," began Bella. "He said that one day I would use English more than my own language."

  "He's a smart man," replied Fernando. "Is he-"

  "He's dead," snapped Bella. "Can we leave it there?"

  "Yes," said Fernando. "Yes, we can. I'm sorry. I just want to know you, Bella. I want to learn you and hear about your past."

  Bella bit her lip and fought back the tears, but her throat choked, and she gasped then sucked in a deep lungful of air.

  "Bella?"

  "You raped me, Fernando," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "You raped me in Syria, you raped me in Turkey, you raped me on the boats, and now you rape me in your home. But still, Fernando, still you tell me you care. You say that I'm pretty and that you want to know me, and want me to be happy." She dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, and Fernando passed her his handkerchief.

  "I can't do this," she continued. "I cannot lie to myself. I cannot do the..." She struggled with the words. "Disgusting things you want me to do. You repulse me, Fernando. I cannot bear to look at you. So tell me how I'm supposed to marry you. How am I supposed to wait patiently at home all day with your children, and smile when you come home? How am I supposed to raise children when I am not happy? Our children will be unhappy. I just don't know-"

  "Have you finished?" said Fernando, his tone bored as if he was tired of her whining. He pulled the car to the side of the road, cracked the window open for some fresh air, and pulled the handbrake up.

  "Listen to me," he began. "I took you away from Syria. I saved your sorry little life."

  "I paid you."

  "You ungrateful bitch. I took you in good faith. You think four thousand dollars even comes close to what it costs? Wake up, Bella."

  "It was everything we had."

  "And I took it in good spirit."

  "You took it because I was pretty, you told me."

  "And I stand by that. I was..." Fernando searched for the word. "Captivated. I was captivated, Bella."

  "And what about the others? You weren't so captivated by them, were you? I didn't see you giving them any special treatment, no wandering hands."

  "I knew I wanted you, Bella," said Fernando, "from the first day I saw you, and you told me you wanted to run. I knew I could help, I knew it was my chance, and I prayed that nobody offered you a cheaper ride."

  "You took all we had."

  "I had to take something, Bella. It is a business. What am I supposed to say to my partner?"

  "You mean your boss?"

  "He's not my boss. We are partners."

  "But he pays for everything, while you take all the risk?"

  "We have an agreement," said Fernando.

  "It doesn't matter anyway. You raped me. I can't even remember how many times now." The tears came back and Bella fought to suck air in between her loud sobs. "How can you say you care when you did that to me? You hurt me."

  "But Bella, you have to understand," said Fernando. "Being on that boat with you after so long, seeing you every day, with those big brown eyes." He lowered his head. "I am ashamed, Bella. Forgive me."

  "But in Syria, in the truck, it was the first time."

  "I was captivated, Bella."

  "It was my first time, Fernando," spat Bella under her breath. "Do you even know what that means?"

  There was a silence. Bella rested her head on the cool glass and closed her eyes.

  "The baby?" said Fernando, his voice soft with understanding. "The baby is mine?"

  Bella nodded.

  "We have a baby?" said Fernando. "Oh Bella, this is wonderful."

  "The baby is the devil," she spat. "How can I bear a child that was born of rape? How can I love a child that-"

  "But I can make this right, Bella," said Fernando, his voice pleading. "We can make it work. We can go to the shops and get the things you need. Let me show you, Bella."

  Bella shook her head. She let the tears roll across her face without wiping her eyes.

  "We can do this, Bella," said Fernando. He took her hand in her both of his then held it to his mouth and kissed it softly. "We can do this."

  His manipulative words span around in Bella's head. It was like he had two faces, two minds. When he was soft, he could truly be gentle, but when the dark side appeared, he could be so cruel.

  She opened her mouth to reply, but suddenly the windscreen shattered in their faces, and the roof of the car collapsed with a deafening bang.

  Bella screamed and fought with the door handle as the body of a man in black slid slowly down onto the bonnet and stared at her with a deathly gaze.

  10

  Two Face

  Melody crouched with her back to the parapet wall. She was on the rooftop of the old apartment building where they'd found Sharp's body. She moved fast. Flipping the lid of the peli-case open, she quickly pieced together her rifle. She could do it blindfolded and had done several times, both in her training and as part of her ongoing practice.

  A loud thud broke the silence, followed by shattered glass raining down onto the concrete below. Melody finished attaching her scope before she stood and peered over the side. An old silver Mercedes roared away with a body on its bonnet. The driver didn't let off the accelerator as he swerved the car onto the main road, and the body of the man slid off onto the street. Melody crouched low and brought her rifle up to see through the scope.

  It was Barnet.

  "Shit."

  The car tyres squealed again, and Melody moved the rifle in time to see the old Mercedes mount the pavement and burst through the gates to the boatyard. The car screeched to a halt outside what looked like a workshop building.

  In all the chaos, movement caught her peripheral vision, and she just saw what looked like Derby diving for cover in the wasteland to the south side. She scanned the narrow strip of sand and trees for movement then moved across to the boatyard.

  Everything happened so fast. Melody couldn't find the driver in her scope, but he'd left the door open. There was no movement. It had been a few seconds of chaos, then nothing.

  She moved the rifle in horizontal layers across the huge expanse of the boatyard, stopping at each salvage boat before marking them as clear and moving on. It was her methodical way of clearing an area. The wasteland to the north was empty as far as she could see.

  They were down to two now, just Derby and her, and the only protection Derby had was Melody. She suddenly realised how vulnerable she was on the roof. There would be no escape if somebody burst onto the rooftop, and by the time she swung the long Diemaco around, she'd be dead.

  Melody reached for her Sig in her waistband and placed it on the parapet wall. Then, as an extra precaution, she wedged the door shut with a heavy coping tile that had fallen from the parapet wall. It wouldn't stop anyone for long, but maybe long enough for her to get the upper hand.

  Melody returned to the wall and swung the rifle to the south side wasteland. She knew Derby would be low, looking for a weak spot in the perimeter fence.

  She just had a few minutes, and then Derby would be inside and making his way to the workshop. But he'd still be expecting Barnet to come in from the far side. She scanned the boatyard again just as the door to the workshop was kicked open.

 

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