Chapter 45

She was at the building by nine fifteen.

A commercial property three blocks from the courthouse. Empty, between tenants. The kind of building nobody looked at twice on a Tuesday morning. Engfa had arranged access two days ago. Nam had swept it yesterday.

Clean.

Freen walked through it once before anyone arrived.

Ground floor. One large open space – bare floors, high ceiling, stripped back walls. Three ways in. Main entrance facing the street. Service door at the back. Fire exit on the right side wall.

She stood near the brick pillar in the centre of the room. From there she could see all three entrances without moving. She measured the distances between them. Noted the open space to the left that gave her room to move and the narrower corridor to the right that didn’t.

She chose the open space.

She waited.

—

The plan was simple.

Jeff believed he had live intelligence. For four days Freen and Nam had been feeding him false information through a secondary channel – information that looked exactly like the real thing. It said Becky would be at this building at ten o’clock for a pre-trial witness meeting.

She was not here.

She was at the courthouse with Engfa’s two people and Heng and a closing argument that was done and right.

Freen had planned for four men.

—

Nam’s voice in her earpiece at nine forty-seven.

“Jeff just turned onto the street. He’s not alone.”

“How many.”

A pause. “Six. Freen there are six.”

She moved immediately. Back to the pillar, pressed against it, rebuilt the plan in her head. Changed the sequence. Changed the positions. Built it again from scratch around six people and three entrances.

Two seconds.

“Understood,” she said. “Stay on comms.”

“Engfa’s people are at the courthouse,” Nam said. “I can’t pull them.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“Freen-“

“I have it.”

A breath. Then: “I’m coming in through the service door.”

“Stay on surveillance.”

“I’m coming in through the service door.” Flat. Not a discussion.

Freen said nothing.

The main entrance opened.

—

Jeff came in first.

She knew his face by now – the ordinary features, the unremarkable build, the court clerk who had sat in the courthouse gallery for weeks watching Becky’s table with a notebook he never wrote in.

He walked in looking at his phone.

Two men came in behind him through the main entrance.

Two more through the service door at the back.

Two more through the fire exit on the right.

All three entrances simultaneously. Someone had given them the layout. Freen noted this – there was still a contact somewhere she hadn’t identified. Something for after today.

She stayed behind the pillar and watched Jeff look around the empty space. He checked his phone. He waited.

Thirty seconds.

Then the man near the fire exit said something to the one beside him and she saw it on Jeff’s face – the understanding that nobody was coming.

She stepped out.

—

“Jeff,” she said.

Six heads turned.

Jeff’s expression moved through recognition, confusion and calculation in about two seconds. He was smart enough to understand quickly what had happened.

“I think you know how this ends,” Freen said.

The man on the left didn’t wait.

—

He came straight at her – big, fast, using his size. People who used their size came in straight lines because straight lines had always worked before.

She stepped to the side at the last moment. Caught his arm as he passed. Used his own speed and weight and sent him into the brick pillar.

He hit it hard.

He went down and didn’t get up quickly.

One.

The second man came from the right – they had planned it that way, both sides at once, which was good thinking. She was already turning to deal with him and he caught her above the left eye with the edge of his hand as she moved. It wasn’t a clean hit but it was enough. She felt the cut open immediately and the blood came fast the way eyebrow cuts always did.

She blinked it away. Got inside his reach before he could reset. Brought him down.

Two.

She straightened up.

Her eye was bleeding steadily. She pressed the back of her hand against it for two seconds – not enough to stop it but enough to clear her vision – and kept moving.

The other four had spread out around the room. Creating angles. Trying to make her deal with too many directions at once. She moved to break the shape before it could close around her.

The third man swung wide – too wide, too committed. She ducked under it, stepped inside, took him down fast.

Three.

The fourth man caught her hand.

She had reached to block and he had grabbed her wrist and twisted and she felt the skin of her palm tear against the rough cuff of his jacket as she pulled free. Her left hand was bleeding now – palm and two fingers, not deep but stinging.

She brought him down anyway.

Four.

Her left eye was still bleeding. Her left hand was bleeding. She wiped both on her jacket and kept going.

The fifth man was smarter than the others. He came in low, going for her legs, trying to take her balance. She shifted her weight and he caught her on the left side – not her legs, her hip and lower ribs – and the impact was solid enough that she felt it all the way up.

She went down on one knee.

Got back up.

Brought him down with her good hand.

Five.

She stood up properly.

Her left side ached with every breath – bruised, she thought, probably significantly bruised. Her hand was bleeding through her fingers. Her eyebrow was still bleeding into her eye and she blinked to clear it.

She was standing.

The sixth man had not moved.

He was the best of them. She had tracked this throughout – the way he held back, watched, assessed while the others went. He was standing now with four metres between them looking at the room.

Five men on the floor.

One woman standing.

Bleeding from the eye and the hand. Left side hurting with every breath. Still standing.

He looked at her for a long moment.

Then he turned and walked out through the main entrance without a word.

She let him go.

She had his face.

She stood still for a moment.

Just breathing.

—

Jeff was still in the room.

He was standing in the middle of the space with his phone in his hand looking at the five men on the floor and then at Freen and he looked like someone who had completely run out of anything to do.

“Sit down,” Freen said.

Her voice was completely even.

He sat down on the floor.

She found her earpiece on the floor near the pillar where it had come loose and put it back in.

“Nam,” she said.

“Here.” From the back of the room. “I came in through the service door two minutes ago.” She crossed the space toward Freen. “I saw most of it.”

“The sixth one-“

“Turned left. I have him on camera.” Nam stopped in front of her. She looked at Freen’s face. Then at her hand. Then at her face again. “Okay.”

“Jeff first,” Freen said.

“Freen-“

“Jeff first Nam.”

Nam looked at her for a moment. Then she went to Jeff.

She handled it efficiently – zip ties, a brief phone call to the people who would collect him, clear instructions. She did it all quickly and came back.

Engfa’s voice came through the earpiece. “Report.”

“Six,” Freen said. “Five down. One fled – Nam has his face on camera. Jeff is contained.”

A pause. “Are you hurt.”

Freen looked at her left hand. The palm was bleeding through her fingers. The eyebrow had slowed but not stopped.

“Operational,” she said.

Engfa knew what that meant. It meant yes and functional both.

“The evidence,” Engfa said.

“Safe. Courthouse team confirmed.”

A longer pause.

“It’s done,” Engfa said.

Freen leaned back against the pillar.

She breathed.

—

Nam appeared beside her with a folded cloth from her jacket pocket.

“Eye first,” she said.

Freen took it and pressed it against her eyebrow.

“Hand,” Nam said.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s bleeding.”

“Everything is bleeding. It’s fine.”

Nam pulled a second cloth out – she was very prepared, Freen noted, which meant she had expected something like this – and held it out. Freen took it and wrapped it around her left hand.

They stood against the pillar.

Outside the city was going about its Tuesday morning. Completely unaware. People getting coffee and hailing taxis and going to meetings in the ordinary way of a city that didn’t know what had just happened three blocks from the courthouse.

“Surat,” Freen said.

“Engfa has everything she needs. The network, the chain, all of it.” Nam paused. “It’s over.”

“Not until she delivers the closing arguments.”

“No,” Nam said. “Not until then.”

They were quiet for a moment.

“Closing arguments at two,” Nam said.

“I know.”

“It’s ten forty-five.”

“I know.”

“You should-“

“I know Nam.” Freen pushed off the pillar. Her left side tightened immediately. She kept her face still. “I know.”

“Let me look at your side first.”

“In the car.”

“Freen-“

“In the car.” She started walking. “We’re wasting time.”

Nam walked beside her.

“Her first question this morning,” Nam said. “When I checked in. Before the operation. Before the courthouse. Before anything else.”

Freen kept walking.

“She asked if you were okay,” Nam said.

Freen said nothing.

“I told her you were fine,” Nam said. “Which at the time was accurate.”

“It’s still accurate.”

“You have a cut above your eye and a cut on your hand and your left side-“

“Is fine.”

“-is going to be significantly colourful tomorrow.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.” Freen pushed the main entrance door open with her shoulder. The city came in – loud and bright and completely ordinary. “It was meant to be true.”

They walked out.

“You should tell her yourself,” Nam said. “That you’re okay.”

“I’m going to,” Freen said.

She had a promise to keep.

She walked into the city and kept going.