Xion Island Zero: Chapter 37

His phone buzzed as another image came through from Bernstein. It was a photo of a faded trailhead sign in Grizedale.

A single word appeared on his screen. This one was from Max. DEATH.

He left the station with dread sinking like lead in his gut. He needed normalcy. Anything to drown out the word that kept following him around. He went home to get something to eat, but didn’t tell Kelvin about the raid. He’d brought riot gear to change into and only had an hour. If he was going to die, he needed to have a last supper with Kelvin. He refused to leave him without telling his fiancé that he loved him.

The decorations looked wrong, absurdly cheerful and bright. Even the Elf on the Shelf was watching him. It looked traumatised. The poor thing needed therapy after being dusted off for seasonal joy, only to be thrust into danger.

Nash took as long as he dared over takeaway fish and chips, and when they’d finished, he reached for Kelvin’s hand. ‘I love you, Kel,’ he said.

‘I know. It’s because I’m lovable. Did I tell you the menus have arrived from the printers? They look good.’

Nash didn’t have time to talk about a wedding that might not happen. And he didn’t want to think about a funeral that could. He had to crack on.

He cleared the kitchen table and opened his laptop while Kelvin loaded the dishwasher. Pulling up the OS maps for Grizedale, he went straight to the relevant place. The undercover officers had given him the coordinates of the old trail, and he was glad of their excellent police work. In a forest covering ten square miles, searching for one trail among hundreds would have been impossible. He checked online photographs, looking at forestry routes and disused ranger cabins, all the while he kept up a stream of wedding talk with Kelvin.

It was almost time to leave, and having Kerl there had calmed him.

He was looking for anything that looked like the signpost Travis had sent to goad him. Coordinates of a possible find weren’t enough; Nash had to know there was a building at the end of that rainbow.

‘You’re not sleeping, babe,’ Kelvin said, putting a mug of cocoa and one of the wedding breakfast menus next to him. Nash pulled a face at the mountain of squirty cream. Even the cocoa had more structural integrity than Nash’s nerves.

‘You’re not eating, and you’re chasing ghosts again. Ease up and let the team take some of the weight.’

‘This one isn’t a ghost,’ Nash said. ‘He’s flesh and blood. And he’s been in our house.’

Kelvin sighed. ‘You’ve had a hit on him, haven’t you? I know you’re going out again.’

‘Don’t worry.’

‘Of course I’m going to worry. It’s my job. Do what you have to. But come back, safe. Promise me that.’

Nash gave him a wry grin, kissed him as he stood up, and went to get changed. He took a second to get his mind in the right headspace for the intervention, and when he left the bathroom, he was working like a machine. There was no room in his head for emotions or rash decisions.

By the time he got to the control room, he was ready. They had no definitive proof, but his intuition screamed at him that this was the right place.

‘Is everybody geared up?’ he asked Brown. ‘We’re leaving.’

‘Is it concrete?‘

‘I’m pretty sure about it, and I’ve got a gut that won’t shut up.’

‘Better pack some spare underwear, then, guv.’

He managed a laugh. ‘We’re working on solid intel and instinct. But we do this by the book.’

They rolled out at sunset. Armed officers, dressed in black, jumped into riot vans. The squad took dogs and drones with them, and the convoy was silent except for the crunch of wheels on the thick layer of snow and the occasional bark.

That part of the forest was a tangled mess of dense silence. Trees rose like spires, bending under the weight of their white coats.

The team spread out and deployed on foot, and the deeper they went, the more unnatural the hush felt. They sent up an elite drone belonging to the MI5 contingent, and after taking it high so it wouldn’t be heard from the ground, they confirmed that there was a small hut in the forest. ‘Prepare,’ the colonel said into his comms.  

Men in bulletproof vests and helmets were sent to the rear of the area. ‘The bush is so dense that there’s no back door, so to speak. Just get in as close as you can,’ Nash said, giving his orders to the armed response team. ‘At least if we can’t get to him, he won’t get out that way, but be alert. This guy’s resourceful and has made monkeys of us more than once.’  

The light was all but gone, and shadows coated everything, turning roots into traps and paths into illusions. The trees could have been funeral pyres waiting to be lit. ‘Bernstein knows we’re coming,’ Nash said. ‘The ploy of getting here after dark has probably backfired.’

But even so, they only risked using low-light pointer torches to see the way ahead. Nash led his immediate team and Mike, the negotiator, on foot, while the shooters took up positions, using the trees for cover. Nash's boots crunched over snow and frozen needles. His breath steamed ahead in plumes.

Behind them, the armed response team moved with training and precision.

He slowed and held his hand with the pointer torch up in the murk to halt the others. There was something here. A smell hit him. It was smoke, burning pine sap, and rusting metal. At the back of the odour was the taint of an accelerant. ‘Damp pine won’t burn without help,’ he whispered. The metallic tang of something old and forgotten assaulted him, and the neglected forest cried for its mother.

The path narrowed, and they fought through brambles. Bernstein hadn’t cleared it because he’d needed the approach to be difficult.

When they reached the end of the tiny rut cut into the earth, it opened into a clearing that had recently been emptied and cut back. ‘Clever. Bernstein will have a clear view from the hut. He knows we’re here. I can feel him,’ Nash said.

The cabin was ancient and derelict, but Bernstein had reinforced it. Nestled between the dark trees, it was sunken. The windows were dusty, and the door was left ajar—an invitation. A wisp of smoke curled from the makeshift chimney. Travis was expecting his visitors, even at this hour.

‘We should have gone in earlier, guv,’ Norton said.

‘I had to make the call, but I made the wrong decision. I hope we can all walk away from this. I owe you guys an apology,’ Nash said.

‘It’s okay. We’ve got this. There’s only one of him. It was a good idea in theory, but doesn’t this bastard ever sleep?’

Nash heard a voice in his head. It came from the energy in the rustle of the breeze, but he knew it wasn’t external. It was as audible as Norton’s voice had been. ‘One chair will be empty this year, Nasher. Don’t buy too many crackers. Death’s waiting.’

‘What?’

‘Sorry, boss. I said it was a good idea in theory,’ Norton said.

Nash cast Max’s voice and dire warnings out of his head and concentrated on the raid. This was no time to get sloppy.  

‘It’s still only early, the moon’s just up. But he outthought us again and expected us to come after dark, so of course, he’s going to be on his guard. But another point. We know he’s leaving the hut, so that means one of two things. Either Taylor is already dead. Or he’s damned confident about leaving him unattended. It’s been three days, he must be sleeping sometime.’

The clearing was quiet.

Nash raised his fist, and the team, following the pin-light of his torch, fanned out. An owl call went up, and another one answered, low and soft. It was the signal they’d been waiting for. The armed officers were ready. He heard the soft rumble of dogs growling low in their throats not far away.

The snow crunched, and radio static hissed. It wasn’t a silent approach in an otherwise soundless forest, but Nash moved cautiously. The wind hounded him, lifting the scraps of felt left on the hut’s roof like a blown breath.

 He whispered, ‘Max, if you’ve got anything left, mate, give it to me now.’

The wind stirred, and as if to order, a cloud moved away from in front of the moon. It wasn’t much, but they had a faint, hazy light. The trees sighed, and far away, something snapped, making them all jumpy.

Inside the cabin, the light from a candle appeared in the window and flickered a welcome.

 

Xion Island Zero is book 6 in the DCI Nash series. They're all on KU. Hush Hush Honeysuckle is Book One,  and this is the Amazon link.

https://books2read.com/u/4EB0zg