Order was slowly returning to Thames House. Sam had sent out a forensics team and the operations room was taking shape. Wheeled, free-standing glass boards were lined around the edge of the room. They had a multitude of uses. Ideas, theories, evidence, links, would all be stuck to one of these boards, or scribbled with a dry-wipe marker. A dedicated server sat in the corner of the room. This provided fast internet access and encrypted data storage for the dozen or so PC’s and laptops that had been set up on the tables.
Sam was just starting to relax a bit when Grant Bray entered the room. He glanced around, obviously pleased with what he saw.
‘Good work Sam, you’ve done well getting this set up on such short notice.’
Sam suddenly felt a little nervous once more. He hardly knew Bray. Being so low down in the pecking order, Sam had only spoken to Bray a couple of times, and then usually no more than a passing ‘Hello’.
Bray continued. ‘Sam, I want you working closely with Jay on this. It might be coincidence, an explosion on Salisbury Plain, and now this, but I don’t think so.’
‘What do you want me to do sir?’ asked Sam.
‘Well, for a start you can stop calling me sir. We may have Military in our name, but we don’t necessarily call our superiors Sir.’
‘Sorry Grant, just nerves. I’ve not witnessed anything like this before; I’m not entirely sure what I’m supposed to be doing.’
‘Sam, you’re doing fine. Obviously Jay will be heading up the investigation; she’ll report to me, I report to the Secretary of State and other cabinet members. So just do as Jay… ah, here she is now.’
Virani walked into the room. For the first time since Sam had known her she’d lost the air confidence she usually carried without effort.
She nodded at Bray before addressing Sam.
‘Sam, you’re our liaison with Tidworth. You have a rapport with Jenkins and Saunders. There’s a chance, albeit slim, that this event has something to do with the explosion on Salisbury Plain.’
Sam nodded. Virani continued.
‘I also need you to head up an investigation team. Get on to GCHQ. Have them increase their surveillance. If there’s any new chatter, I want to know about it. Doesn’t matter how insignificant it may seem.
‘You can pick your team, but their job is to scour all persons of interest. A team of five people to start with. Any link to radicals, fundamentalists, anything, get somebody on it.’
Sam was starting to tense up. He could feel the pressure.
‘One more thing, Sam.’
He looked at her, a worried look on his face. ‘Yes Jay?’
‘Phone Julia; tell her you won’t be home for dinner. Tell her not to wait up. And let everybody know there’ll be a briefing in here in twenty minutes.’
Chapter Nine
Trojan One, the Metropolitan Police Mobile Armed Response Command Centre sat a mile from its previous occupants, the Armed Response Team. The inconspicuous white Ford Transit van held more computing power than the street it was sat in. Satellite feeds provided real-time updates of the target area. CCTV camera feeds linked directly into the on-board servers. The two men inside controlled the movements of the Armed Response Team that neared the target building. Each member of the response team wore a helmet-mounted camera that fed directly back to Trojan-One. The teams were divided to cover both front and rear access to the building, The covering teams, Ground Front — Golf-Foxtrot — and Ground Rear — Golf-Romeo — Provided over watch for the breach teams, Front Breach — Foxtrot-Bravo — and Rear Breach — Romeo-Bravo, as well as providing support should a suspect manage to escape the building.
‘Trojan one. Golf-Romeo. Report.’
‘Golf-Romeo One. In position, rear of building. Rear exit and first floor windows covered. No movement. Over’
‘Golf-Romeo Two. In position, rear of building to the east. Side windows on ground and first floor covered. No movement. Over’
‘Trojan-One. Copy. Golf-Foxtrot. Report.’
‘Golf-Foxtrot One. In position, front of building. Front door and front ground floor windows covered. No movement. Over.’
‘Golf-Foxtrot Two. In position, front of building. Front first floor windows covered. Over.’
‘Trojan-One. Copy. India Nine-Eight. Status.’
The police helicopter — call sign India Nine-Eight — hovers at a height and distance so as not to alert the target. Its heat sensitive equipment points at a fast food shop to the west of its position, hunting its prey like a flying predator.
‘India Nine-Eight. One heat signature detected. First floor. Appears to be sat at a table. Other signatures indicate a hot stove and a number of small electronic appliances. Over.’
‘Copy Nine-Eight. Foxtrot-Bravo, are you in position?’
‘In position Trojan-One.’
‘Romeo-Bravo. Are you in position?’
‘Affirmative, Trojan-One, we are good to go.’
‘Trojan-One. All units. We are clear to engage. Set weapons to single shot. The target is on the first floor. Ground floor is a fast food outlet. There is no reason to believe there are any hostiles or civilians on the ground floor.
‘Foxtrot-Bravo, clear and lock down ground floor. You’ll be exposed on approach as the front ground floor is mainly plate glass due to the retail use of the property. Improvise, you shouldn’t have any difficulty gaining entry.’
‘Romeo-Bravo, you’ve got the hard job. Sweep ground floor hallway and stairwell, acquire and detain target.
‘Helmet cams on, on my mark. Oh, and let’s be on our best behaviour, Five will be watching, as will the Secretary of Defence, and possibly the PM himself.
‘As Andy Warhol said, “In the future, everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes.” Well I want this mission to be over in five minutes tops. Watch your backs, watch each other.
‘Do not engage unless absolutely necessary. Deadly force has been authorised.’
A pause, deep breaths over the radio, static filling the gaps. Nerves calmed. Heart rates lowering.
‘Trojan-One, all units. Connecting to Control. Control this is Trojan One.’
‘Copy Trojan-One. All clear to proceed. Control will now go silent. Command is yours Trojan-One. Command out.’
‘All units. Trojan-One. Mission is go.’
Sam, Virani, and Bray sat in the Operations Room in Thames House. The wall of screens in front of them was split into a grid consisting of two rows of five screens. Each screen displayed the helmet cam feed of one of the Specialist Firearms Unit team members.
For Sam this was totally surreal. It was like playing Call of Duty on an Xbox. The camera showed the line of sight of the team member, each of which was armed with a Heckler and Koch MP5SF 9mm submachine gun. A red dot from the sights was visible to the left of the first floor window as he watched the screen of one of the Golf-Romeo Team.
‘Here we go.’ Announced Bray as another screen showed the view from one of the breach team members’ helmet cam.
‘Showtime.’
Sam’s attention was drawn to movement on a different screen. The Romeo-Bravo Commander was leading the way to the back door of the building, the high definition image from the helmet camera was as good as watching a Blu-Ray.
Stealth was the order of the day as the Romeo-Bravo Team got to the back door, the rear cover team keeping them updated of any threats. The team members took their positions. One member either side of the door, backs against the wall, the leader kneeling to the front, slightly to the left on centre. He tries the door handle — locked. He retrieves a small pouch from a pocket on his sleeve and removes a lock picking tool. He starts working on the lock.