Yolanda sniffed sharply, and looked straight at Colby. “Right then. What’s his end game here, Col?”
“Fuck knows.”
Colby was concentrating on balling that churning knot of fury he had twisting his insides up into a focused and precise pinpoint. Random, uncontrolled rage was useless. It would probably get you killed. Focus and you released the true killer inside. It was a side of his personality Colby didn’t particularly like, but it had kept him alive up to now, so he had learned to embrace it and use it when necessary.
Combat wasn’t just about training. It was about unleashing the monster within that everyone has but nobody wants to acknowledge. And doing it in such a way that allowed you to achieve your objective without thinking about the blood and carnage you were inflicting. You needed to disassociate yourself from that side of combat. Otherwise you’d freeze. And if you froze, you died. Really quickly.
Combat was a means to an end. It was about protecting your team. Protecting yourself. And protecting those who couldn’t defend themselves.
And it was about royally fucking up enemy combatants with pointy teeth and centuries of hatred twisting up their intestines.
But now wasn’t the time for navel-gazing or introspection on the Art of War. Yolanda studied her oppo and brought him back to the here and now with a bump. “Fuck knows isn’t an answer, Flynn.”
Colby looked up and shook his head. “Yol, you know more about vampires than any of us. Just because I got up close and personal with Vlad in Tokat doesn’t mean I’ve got an inside on his chain of command or their reasoning.”
Yolanda scowled. “Bullshit. You’re our strategist and battlefield tactician. That’s what you do. And you’re damn good at it. So start bloody strategizing! I need to know what his game play is, and what we have to do to make whatever he wants to happen not happen.” She ignored the slightly puzzled look from Terry Warner. “From my perspective, Old World vamps want one thing. Power. I’ll put a week’s pay on Vlad not showing his face openly to us again. One exposure was a meet-n-greet. Two would be pushing it and he’s not stupid enough to expose himself to any potential risk if he thinks we’re ready for him. So I’ll guess we’ll be going up against that lieutenant and his squad, not Vlad.”
Colby nodded. “Agreed. Which at least means we should get a kill out of this shitstorm at the least.”
Gary chipped in. “Would Vlad risk one of his top people against us? I mean, like you said, he’s a general. He values good lieutenants.”
“Not enough to avoid sending them up against us, Gary,” said Yolanda. “Nah. As important as this bugger might be to Vlad, he’s not irreplaceable. He’ll be a tough bastard, so expect a fight. But he can be killed. Remember that, no matter how ugly it gets.”
Colby nodded. “Yol’s right. This is a game of chess to him. He’s a strategist, and a damn good one, too. Don’t ever, ever underestimate this guy. Look, if you’re planning any kind of whacko world domination shit, you take out your enemy’s strongest keystone first, right? As far as Vlad’s concerned, the primary threat is us. So he’s gonna throw one of his lieutenants at us and see how we do. If we lose, he’s golden. If we win then okay, Vlad’s lost a link in his armour, but it’s not as if he can’t get a replacement.” Colby sniffed. “It also helps if you spread a bit of panic among the general populous at the same time, too. Makes it harder for the military to contain the situation and mount a counter-offensive. Hearts and minds can be used in a negative context too, you know.”
Micky scowled. “So, okay, what is it then, Col? Whacko world domination shit? Revenge for Tokat? Sheer bloody mindedness? Indigestion?”
“Honestly, who the fuck actually cares right now? We’ve got a train full of commuters that matey’s got lined up as today’s chef’s special, and no plan other than going in and giving him the biggest beasting we can while minimising collateral.” Colby looked at Yolanda. “Back-up?”
“If you’re asking if there’s a plan B, that would be a no. Like you said, we’ve barely got a plan A. Back-up is at least another fifteen minutes out.” She shook her head. “We’re on our own with this one.”
“Perfect. So Vlad’s Rupert, plus guests, plus a shit-load of panicked collateral in the way, in a confined space, and a team of eight with limited ammo. Oh, happy fucking days.” Terry shook his head. “Ah well, more to go around, I guess.”
“Yeah. The one with the least number of kills buys the pizza.” Gary primed his C8 carbine…
They stopped on the last broad landing before the steps reached the platform. Crouching on either side with their backs to the wall, they were all ready and waiting for the go from Yolanda. She nodded. “Right then. We all know what we’re doing. Watch your backs. Objectives. One, get the civvies out and clear. Two, eliminate the nest. Three, take out that lieutenant with extreme prejudice. Four, bang out sharpish and let the cleaners in to bag and tag. No collateral, and I mean none. Everyone gets out. Except that arrogant little fucker. Are we clear?”
The entire team answered as one. “Crystal!”
Yolanda glanced at her watch. “Right then, gentlemen. We’re on the clock here. Let’s go to work, shall we?” She gave them a dark little smile.
They all knew what that meant.
Bug hunt time…
Alpha and Bravo Unit moved silently down the stairs towards platform two. Everyone knew their role. Staggered two-two formation. Two teams of four. Minimum comms. Chain of command was Yolanda as primary point of contact, Colby leading Alpha team, and Terry Warner leading Bravo.
They’d practised this a thousand times in the old Charing Cross tube station on the Jubilee line, selected as a kill house because it was the most recently abandoned station and had the most up-to-date layout. Now they had to put that training into real-time action, but with both warm bodies and a shit-ton of civilians adding an unknown element into the mix.
The plan, if there was such a thing, was simple. Kill the lights. Bravo team led by Terry Warner would hit the tunnel end and take out any close proximity Taints. Alpha team would take the platform to lay down cover if needed while Colby and Danny dropped down and used Primacord blasting cord to daisychain a series of detonations on the train doors. Create a series of small, contained explosions that would be enough to blow the doors open, cause maximum diversion and allow the passengers to get the hell out of Dodge on the hurry-up. Bravo team would get the civvies out. Alpha team would breach and attempt to take out the tango with extreme prejudice. As fast as Vlad’s lieutenant was, even he wouldn’t be able to contain an entire tube carriage of stampeding London commuters and take on a determined and highly-trained Special Ops team at the same time. Plan A just might work.
Well, that was the theory, anyway.
The teams stopped at the bottom of the stairs, just out of sight of the stationary tube train. The darkened platform wasn’t entirely pitch black, but there was more than enough deep shadow to mask their movements. Yolanda turned to Danny and Flynn, keeping the commands to a minimum, delivered in a sharp whisper. “Doors. Go.” She turned to Terry and the rest of Bravo team. “Tunnel. Go.” Finally, she glanced to her left. “Micky. Exit point. Go.”
Danny and Colby hunched up and scuttled along the length of the train, staying tight against the metal skin and expertly positioning a series of Primacord strips on each set of doors. As they placed each strip, they cautiously checked for commuters standing too close to the doors, and waved them back. The orange Primacord2 had a central core of 2.1 grams of PETN explosive per meter of cord, which shouldn’t be enough to actually kill anyone, even close up. But an injured commuter could slow the extraction process. This needed to be fast, furious and with minimum casualties. And the entire team knew that ‘minimum’ in Yolanda’s book meant no fucking casualties at all.