‘Good evening Wembley!’ He laughed.
‘Seriously though, what were you thinking?’
Sewell looked up at him. Shock. Amazement. All he could think was that Raynor was insane. Raynor continued.
‘Now I’m sure Five are on the line, am I right?’
Virani keyed the microphone.
‘This is Jayshree Virani. To whom am I speaking?’
‘Ah, the lovely Jayshree Virani. I have the pleasure at last. I’ve listened to so many conversational exchanges between Sam and yourself, as you’re no doubt aware based on this pathetic ambush attempt. It’s Nate, Jay. You don’t mind me calling you Jay, do you?’
‘What do you want Raynor?’
‘Well that’s an easy one, Jay. It’s fairly obvious my friend Sam isn’t here, so I’ll be leaving now. Call off the dogs, please Jay. There’s a good girl.’
Virani was fuming. Nobody talked to her like that. She looked at Bray, hoping for some encouragement or guidance. She would’ve been better off looking at the David Beckham waxwork at Madame Tussauds. Bray had frozen.
‘You know I can’t do that.’ Virani replied.
‘Of course you can, Jay. Just tell them to pull back. You must have sharp-shooters on the towers, be stupid not to. Overwatch. Very important. Now I’ve got a couple of friends I’ve made here with me, well I say a couple, but one had to leave the party early due to his bad behaviour. I’m guessing you’ve got a four man outer perimeter, and another four man team in the power station?’
Bray suddenly came out of his stupor.
‘How the hell did he know that?’
Sam, silent to this point, stared at Grant Bray a look of disbelief etched across his tired face.
‘Because that’s what he’d do, Grant.’
The statement was laced with vitriol.
‘He’s a step ahead. He knows our tactics, because they’re the same tactics he’d use.’
Bray was looking flustered. It was obvious when put like that, but he wasn’t used to being spoken to in that way. But Sam’s tone was understandable, to everyone else if not Bray.
Sam was frustrated. He’d warned his superiors and it had fallen on deaf ears. Why didn’t they listen? Now a man was dead and Raynor was making demands that they had no choice but to meet.
Bray whispered. ‘Well what do we do? We can’t just let him go.’
Virani replied. ‘There’s no need to whisper, Grant, I’ve not got the mic keyed.’ She had a look of disbelief as she turned to Sam and shrugged. Sam simply raised his eyebrows. Bray was an incompetent buffoon. No doubt about it. Raynor’s voice came back over the receiver.
‘You still there Jay? I presume Sam’s with you too. How are you Sam? Good work on Bush, by the way. I’m impressed.’
Sam shuddered once more at the mention of his would be assassin. Raynor picked up where he’d left off.
‘You did well there, mate. He was a hard bastard.
‘Anyway; as you’re not cooperating, I’m going to improvise. I’ll see you all real soon. The Devil makes work for idle hands, and all that.’
Raynor threw down the communications devices and grabbed Sewell, pulling him to his feet. ‘Time to go.’ he said, as he unfastened the chin-strap of Sewell’s helmet and wrenched it from the man’s head. A tangle of wires followed it as Raynor threw it away. It bounced once and rolled, awkwardly, behind a pile of bricks.
‘They need to be able to see your face, Harry. Sorry mate. They’ll be less likely to fire at me if they can see your face. It makes you real, instead of an anonymous figure with a helmet on. They won’t risk hitting you by mistake.’
Raynor started backing up to the perimeter fence, Sewell in front of him blocking the snipers from making a clean shot. They edged their way back toward the site entrance. That would be where an attempt was made, the kill zone. The empty twenty or so metres of no man's land.
When they got to the edge of the entrance road, Raynor attempted to make himself even smaller, hiding as much as he could behind Sewell. They edged back slowly, Sewell unable to do anything due to the Ka-Bar still poking in his side.
‘What do we do now, Jay?’ Bray enquired.
‘We do nothing, Grant.’ Was Virani’s reply. ‘We let the tactical team do their job. We let Command call the shots.’
‘But what if he escapes?’
‘I think it’s a forgone conclusion he’s going to get away from this fiasco.’
The audio equipment hissed before a voice was heard.
‘Holy shit! He’s killed him.’
‘Command to Overwatch. Please repeat.
‘Command, this is Overwatch-Two. Target has killed Golf-Oscar Two. I repeat. Target has killed Golf-Oscar Two. Just slit his fucking throat and walked off around the corner as if nothing had happened.’
Sam looked back at the screens. ‘Fuck!’ Was all he could manage to say before he had to look away.
The feed from Overwatch-Two was showing the prone figure of Sewell. At full zoom it was like standing mere metres away from the dead soldier. His life-force was leaving him through the slit in his throat, and pooling around his head.
‘Turn the screens off please, Jayshree.’ Grant Bray asked. She did so. The three of them sat in silence for a moment until Command gave the order.
‘Command to all units. If you have a clean shot, take it. Overwatch-Two, what was the last known position?’
‘Overwatch-Two to Command. Target was last seen entering the yard of the waste transfer station where Cringle Street meets the power station access road. No visual at present. Wait. Scrap that, target leaving on black motorcycle. No clear shot.’
‘Copy Overwatch-Two. All units, this is Command. Return to base for debriefing. Golf-Oscar One… shit. Golf-Oscar Three. Please make sure the decoy vehicle is returned to Thames House. We’ll take care of recovering Golf-Oscar One and Golf-Oscar Two. Command, out.’
Chapter Forty-Two
Sam left the room. He felt sick. He’d witness two soldiers killed in cold blood by a man out of control. When would it end? How many more people would die before Raynor was stopped?
He stumbled into the lavatory and found an empty cubicle. He knelt and retched into the toilet bowl, but nothing came out. He sat for several minutes, trying to make sense of the day. So much had happened, so many revelations. A conspiracy that drilled deep into the heart of the British military. A brigadier, an ex-general, an arms company, two psychotic members of a secret covert unit that not even the government were aware of. Sam was sure there was no way that the SCU programme could remain secret now. The consequences, internationally, could be devastating.
But where was Raynor? He’d left the building site at speed on his motorcycle. He’d stated he still had work to do. He wasn’t going to stop. He still had bombs to plant, and once the last device was in place he’d send the texts.
Sam kept wondering about the mind-set of the man. Raynor had received positive replies for each device thus far. At least until Dave Sykes started blocking the return signal. But Sam was sure Raynor could get around that, especially now his identity was known. He had no need to try and hijack an unused frequency; he could send a bulk text over the standard networks. It’s not as if he had to try and retain his anonymity anymore. Sam closed his eyes and took deep breaths, trying to calm himself.
Some time later, Sam heard the door to the washroom as it squeaked on its hinges. A voice accompanied the banging of toilet doors as they were pushed open with force.
‘Sam, are you okay? You’ve been in here for ages.’
It was Upex.
‘Jay sent me to get you. It’s been nearly an hour, mate. Your car’s back outside.’
Sam stood and opened the door of the cubicle he was using. Upex was just about to push open the same door.