The Takers
A Sam Pope Novel
Robert Enright
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
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Copyright © Robert Enright, 2019
In loving memory of Arthur Baker.
My Poppa.
Chapter One
The rain hammered down relentlessly from the grey clouds that hung over London. The city was illuminated by a plethora of lights, bathing the wet city in a shiny glow. London was still a hub of activity, the midnight crowd just getting started for another Friday night of hard drinking and senseless drugs. Although not as vibrant as Camden or as colourful as Soho, Holborn was equally busy, the large, dual carriage main road separating the bars and pubs on either side of the street.
Despite the inclement weather, every bar was packed, and groups of drunks were huddled in tiny smoking areas, all of them shaking as they had their nicotine fix.
Sam Pope watched intently.
Perched on the first floor of a fire escape which hung to the building like a tumour, Sam shivered slightly as a drop of rain snuck under his collar, before sliding an icy descent down his spine. He grimaced, before shaking it off and refocused, annoyed that the tarpaulin he had draped over the balcony hadn’t done its job. Not only was it acting as a barrier between him and the ferocious November night sky, it was also obscuring him from the eyes of the public.
The eyes of the police.
The eyes of his target.
It had been six months since Sam had started down his current path, all of it triggered by the bomb that had obliterated mile seventeen of the London Marathon and shook the city to its core. Despite the instant headlines of another terrorist attack, Sam, on account of one hunch regarding an officer, ended up uncovering a conspiracy, headed up by a Chief Inspector of the Metropolitan Police, his subordinates, and one of the most dangerous criminals in the country. As he fought desperately to uncover the truth and keep his therapist, Amy Devereux and her husband alive, Sam had lost his best friend.
Theo Walker.
The very thought of it caused his muscles to tighten and he removed his finger from the trigger. His hands gently held the L85IW SATO assault rifle, the stock pressed into his shoulder as naturally as holding a baby. His gloved fingers hovered near the trigger, safe in the knowledge that his years as one of the UK’s most deadly snipers made this shot seem like a walk in the park. He had over sixty confirmed kills from his time serving abroad, the tours through the bloodstained streets of Baghdad had seen him hone his skills to almost unprecedented levels.
That was when he joined Project Hailstorm.
The “need to know” missions soon came thick and fast, and while two years of his record would soon disappear, the two bullet wounds that scarred his body like a tattoo were permanent.
That was when he had returned home.
Not long after that, he lost everything, which soon became the catalyst that had put him on this path. Losing his faith in the justice system had caused him to seek his own, using his job as an archive officer to find ‘innocent’ men who had beaten the system. His violent attacks soon brought him to the attention of DI Adrian Pearce, who eventually became his only ally.
It had been a crazy week in spring, which not only saw him become one of the most wanted men in the country, but had also seen him break his promise to his son.
He had killed again.
A bitter wind whipped through the side alley where he was perched, shaking the metal staircase and chilling Sam to his bones. It was certainly a contrast to the blazing heat of Africa where he had been deployed numerous times.
Now the missions were on home soil.
Sam knew the ramifications as he uncovered the truth six months ago when he had stormed the headquarters of Frank ‘The Gent’ Jackson. The ‘High Rise’ was infamous as a place where the law wasn’t allowed, yet the police still went. Officer after officer were soon in The Gent’s pocket, his offerings of drugs and cheap sex too much for many.
Sam had brought it all down.
Floor by floor.
Room by room.
Man by man.
When he’d confronted Jackson himself, Sam had put a bullet in his shins. It was only when the threat of Amy’s future was spat out that Sam unloaded the rest of the gun into the crime lord’s chest. That should have been the end of it.
But here Sam was, following the trail for the last six months that had led him to this stairwell on this freezing, rain-soaked night.
The rumours of a second High Rise.
The mission had become clear and Sam knew, with his new-found status as a wanted man, he needed to keep moving. But he couldn’t let the same thing happen again. He couldn’t allow another haven for the criminal underworld of London to establish itself, its allure too strong for the corruptible officers and politicians.
Sam had to bring it to an end.
He had spent the last few months knocking down doors, hijacking a number of illegal gambling facilities, and holding the proprietors at gun point. The money and drugs were coming through somewhere, and Sam knew that Jackson would have contingency plans. The man may have run what was essentially a criminal hotel, but he was connected.
He had links to the people bringing in the drugs, the money, and the women.
Sam had followed the bread crumbs, starting with a few street dealers who had set him onto their handler. A few broken bones later, Sam was working his way through the underground gambling world. A few men had ended up in the hospital.
A couple of properties had
