Deception

THIRTY-TWO

‘Room B16!’ the gate security guard had screamed, his shoulder shattered by a round from Ganic’s Ruger. ‘Down the stairs and along the corridor. . to the right. . with a man named Tate.’

Ganic pulled the safety ring on one of the M84 stun grenades and paused, glancing at Zubac. The time delay fuse on the device was a maximum of two seconds once the safety lever was released. Enough time to step back and avoid the worst of the blast, but too short for any hero to scoop up the grenade and throw it back. He nodded at the nearest camera, then mouthed the words, ‘What about the cameras?’ Then he flicked the safety ring away and hurled the M84 round the corner of the corridor, ducking back before it could explode.

‘Forget them.’ Zubac mouthed back with a grin, checking his weapon. ‘So we get famous. . our faces on television. You don’t like that?’

If Ganic understood the words, his reply was drowned out as the grenade’s blast filled the corridor, the sound wave snapping around the walls and intensified by the confined space. The vivid flash of light lit the air, adding to the confusion, then it was gone. The sound of tinkling glass in the background was almost musical but it was doubtful that any of the policemen or support staff in the corridor was able to appreciate it.

Zubac stepped wide round the corner, his weapon held two-handed, knees slightly bent. Two officers were on their knees, hugging their ears in agony and confusion. Further along, a short, plump woman in a white shirt and dark skirt was sitting inelegantly against one wall, mouth open in shock, eyes closed tight.

One of the officers looked up and saw Zubac. His eyes fastened in disbelief on the Ruger. Coughing, he reached instinctively for his waist. Zubac shot him in the throat.

The officer fell back, a telescopic baton rolling away from his hand.

Zubac shook his head at the man’s idiotic courage, and the two attackers advanced along the corridor, Ganic clubbing the second officer as he passed, ignoring the woman and hurling another M84 as two shapes appeared out of a door at the end. He and Zubac stepped inside an open doorway until the blast came. It breached a soft door, hurling fragments of glass and pieces of softwood through the air. They stepped out and moved on.

An alarm began wailing followed by a volley of shouting as the Bosnians’ progress was tracked along the lower floor. Footsteps pounded on the floor above, filling the stairwell until a commanding voice ordered them back.

Ganic saw movement up ahead. He fired twice to keep any heads down, then turned to his friend as Zubac slapped him on the shoulder and made a pistol sign with his fist and forefinger. The meaning was clear.

So far they had dealt with unarmed opposition only. But the ones with guns would soon be here, which meant they hadn’t got long to find their target.

Ganic puffed out his lips and loaded a fresh clip of ammunition. His meaning was clear: even if they came with their weapons, they would die.