Capital Falling Trilogy Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Winkless, Lance

  Now Lieutenant Winters does start the engine and we move off across the grass until with a slight bump, we get back onto the smooth asphalt and we pick up speed towards the buildings the Lieutenant pointed out.

  “So how long have you been under Reed’s command?” Dan asks the Lieutenant as he drives.

  “Three and a half years now and about two years working for him directly,” he responds.

  “And how has that worked out for you?” Dan presses.

  “I think it’s safe to say it has been interesting at times,” Lieutenant Winters says without giving much away.

  “I respect your loyalty, but come on Winters, give us some juicy bits?” Dan presses further with a big smile on his face.

  “There really isn’t much more I can say,” the Lieutenant says, not rising to Dan’s baiting.

  Dan is just about to have another stab at the Lieutenant when I intervene.

  “Alright, that’s enough Dan. Brief them on the mission plan to take back the city, Lieutenant,” I say, half expecting him to be tight-lipped about that too, but instead he is quite the opposite.

  “The first wave moves out at 1000 hours as I said and they will be moved into position by transport. Surveillance is showing that the infected have slowed their spread slightly, they seem to be taking their time as they reach each new area of the city, as they move outwards. So, they are still far enough inside the original cordoned off area within the boundary of the North Circular Road and the first troops will be dropped at eight insertion points in the West and North West of the city.

  “Once in position, those troops will start to fan out on foot and in hardware, clearing the streets as they go, building to building where necessary. They will have massive air cover as you will have seen and we expect to push the infected back and into the open, hopefully in numbers, where they will be eliminated from the air where possible. As the troops push the infected back, we expect them to move out into the open and move East towards the Eastern part of the city, which has been fortified to eliminate them as they reach those areas.” The Lieutenant finishes his briefing just before we pull up the buildings.

  “How many troops are going in the first wave?” I ask him.

  “There will be approximately forty-five thousand troops going in.”

  “That doesn’t sound enough,” I hear myself say, almost to myself.

  “There are another thirty-five thousand that will be moved into position immediately after the first wave, to do any clearing up and to bolster the first wave, and there are a further twenty-five thousand on standby… these figures don’t include the air support,” the Lieutenant informs me.

  “Okay, thank you, Lieutenant, only time will tell I suppose, but it sounds a bit dicey to me,” I tell him, without offering anything constructive. Lieutenant Winters applies the hand brake to the Defender and we all get out.

  The noise of helicopter engines and rotor blades slicing through the air reverberates around us, coming at us from all the engines being tested, which are not far from us now and the noise hits the buildings we have just pulled up by and bounces back to hit us for a second time. Without saying anything, Lieutenant Winters walks off in the direction of the building, leading the way to the hangar that will be our base for the duration of our mission.

  He opens a door into the building that has a large roller shutter next to it, and goes straight in with me and Dan following close behind.

  As we enter, the majority of the noise from outside is cut off and we find ourselves in a big but not massive aircraft hangar, which at some point must have housed one or, at the most, two light aircraft. The hangar is now mostly empty, with a few old oil drums, tools, various other items and rubbish scattered around the perimeter walls. The central area, however, is mostly clear. That is apart from the equipment, on trollies that have been brought in, as the Lieutenant had said, along with tables and chairs.

  The tables have comms equipment and two computers on them, complete with computer towers, mice, keyboards and monitors; one of the monitors is turned off, but the other is on, showing a view over London. Seated in front of it, not looking at the monitor but looking at me, is Josh.

  “Joshy boy, you sneaky little bugger,” Dan says as Josh gets up and comes over to us. “How long have you been here?”

  “Twenty minutes or so after you left, they came to get me and Alice. I’m not sure where they took Alice but they took me to get fresh kit and then brought me here and told me to wait for you to arrive,” Josh says, just before I pull him in for a hug.

  Josh does look smart in what is definitely a brand-new combat uniform, boots and all. For a second I wonder if Colonel Reed was bluffing the whole time about sending Josh in with the first wave, but then I realise if I weren’t here, that is exactly where Josh would be now.

  “Don’t worry, son, Alice will be joining us shortly too. Isn’t that right, Lieutenant?” I say turning to him.

  “I will get onto that, Captain, but you are going to need more boots than we have here to complete your mission and time is not on our side so I suggest we look at options?” he says quite bluntly.

  “Agreed, Lieutenant; what Special Forces teams are available? I presume you had one or two lined up in the event I didn’t take the mission?”

  “You are correct, Captain; give me a minute to check which teams are still available and haven’t already been deployed,” the Lieutenant says, getting his phone out of his pocket and walking away from us to make his calls.

  “What mission, Captain?” Josh asks.

  It feels strange him calling me Captain but I understand he won’t want to be calling me Dad, especially if he is going to be surrounded by the almost mythical Special Forces operators.

  “You know I was supposed to bring Sir Malcolm’s safe from the Orion building yesterday? Well, we have been tasked with retrieving it today and the mission needs to underway by 1500 hours,” I tell Josh.

  “I am surprised you have agreed to take on that mission; what about Emily, have you told her yet?” Josh says looking a bit confused.

  “Let’s just say Colonel Reed made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, and no I haven’t told Emily yet, but as soon as preparations are underway here, I will go and see her.”

  “What offer? Must have been something important for you to agree and leave Emily again. She is not going to be happy; she was upset when they came to get me.” Josh is looking even more confused now, and who can blame him?

  “I don’t want to go into the ins and outs now Josh; we need to concentrate on the mission ahead of us, so let me worry about Emily, okay?”

  “But,” Josh starts.

  “Josh, leave it now,” I interrupt him. “I want you to check the inventory on that equipment, make sure it is all present and correct.” I can see it in Josh’s face that he is about to protest and try and delve further. “Now, soldier!” I tell him before he does.

  “Yes Sir,” he replies and goes to do exactly that.

  Of course, I can understand Josh is confused and has legitimate questions as to why I would agree to take on this mission and leave Emily again, and he is wondering what leverage the Colonel has over me to get me to agree. I can only hope it won’t play on his mind for long because there is no way I am going to tell him that the Colonel used him as the bargaining chip to get me to agree; at least, I won’t tell him now, maybe when this is over. I need Josh’s attention on the mission, we can’t afford for him to be feeling guilty and torn because of what transpired between Colonel Reed and me, that could be fatal for the whole mission.

  Josh is making a start at going through the equipment and Dan has gone over to him and is probably consoling him a bit, but knowing Dan, he is trying to take Josh’s mind off our conversation and moving it onto the mission where his mind needs to be.

  “Captain,” Lieutenant Winters says from behind me and I turn to see that he has finished his calls and is coming back towards me.

  “Yes, Lieutenant?”

  �
��I have arranged for Second Lieutenant Ward to be transferred to your team; she will be transported here shortly.”

  “Very good, thank you, Lieutenant,” I reply.

  “Two Special Forces patrols are also inbound; they will be here in about thirty minutes, I’m afraid I can’t give you any more information on the patrols, at this time.”

  “Do you know if they are both SAS?” I ask him.

  “I don’t, Captain, all I know is that command is sending two patrols.”

  A patrol of UK Special Forces consists of four men, meaning there will be eight joining my team. Each member of a patrol will have a specialist skill, along with their basic Special Forces training, like demolition or medic for example, but all will be highly skilled in combat procedures. The two main fighting branches of UK Special Forces are the SAS, (Special Air Services) and the SBS (Special Boat Services), both of which are among the elite of any combat forces in the world. I don’t say that out of any bias because I was UK Special Forces, believe me. I have seen action around the world with Special Forces from other countries and very few compare.

  Whilst I will be confident of the men’s abilities if the patrols are from either branch of the Special Forces, it may be easier if they were both from the SAS. This is only because I was SAS and there is a deep-seated rivalry between the SAS and SBS and while I doubt there would be much of an issue if one or even both patrols were SBS. Especially in these times, I don’t want misguided rivalries affecting how we work as a team on the mission.

  Another issue, if they are SBS, is that I was a Royal Marine who decided to join the SAS instead of the SBS. This can be seen as treachery by some in the SBS because the Royal Marines are sea-based and the vast majority of Royal Marines who join the Special Forces go for the SBS as a natural progression. Some SBS operators also have a tendency to look down on Royal Marines, and they see them as somehow inferior, as some SAS do with the Parachute Regiment. This could be an issue for Dan; he was a bloody fine Royal Marine Commando but never felt the calling to try for Special Forces. I personally never had any time for these rivalries. SAS, SBS, Marine or Para—as far as I was concerned, we were all part of the same fighting force and as long as you did your job that was good enough for me.

  “Do you know where my daughter is now?” I ask the Lieutenant.

  “Yes Captain, she has been moved to the family area, close to the food area where she was when you left.”

  “Okay, good, I think now will be the best time to go and see her, before the patrols arrive, don’t you?” I ask him and the Lieutenant agrees.

  Before we leave to see Emily, which I know is going to be difficult, I go and see Dan and Josh. Josh seems to have put his questions to one side, at least for now, and his mind seems to be on the task at hand. He is getting through taking an inventory of the equipment, with some help from Dan. I explain where I am going and ask for them both to hold down the fort here while I am gone, which they agree to with no problems. I do warn them, however, that the Special Forces patrols may arrive before I get back and I ask Dan to get them to double-check their equipment and wait for my return when I will brief them on the mission.

  “I’ll handle them, Boss, no worries,” Dan says with confidence.

  Special Forces operators can be cantankerous and a law unto themselves at times, something I was guilty of when I was still active. This wasn’t, at least for me arrogance, it was because I was always at peak physical fitness, I trained as hard as possible, drilled over and over. I was to some extent a tightly wound spring. The last thing I or my colleagues needed was some ‘Herbert’ trying to tell us how to do our job; we knew how to do it better than anyone, and we were always prepared for action. We craved it!

  The downtime was the worst, both on and off base, it was wasted time between operations and training, hence my relationships on the outside suffered greatly. Looking back, I must have seemed so distant to my ex-wife Jessica, even when I was on leave and we were together; to be honest, I didn’t want to be there, and I longed for my phone to ring, to be recalled back to base or to some high-risk operation in the UK or overseas. Action was all I was interested in. It was like a drug and most of the time there wasn’t enough to go around.

  Army command understood this and left us to our own devices most of the time. We were like caged animals and the cage door was only opened when the shit hit the fan and our particular skill set was required.

  So, while I appreciate Dan’s confidence in handling the patrols when they arrive, I know how they think and they might not take kindly to an ex-Royal Marine in civilian clothes and a young squaddie telling them to check their equipment and wait. There isn’t any other option though, I need to see Emily, Catherine and Stacey and getting that done now so that my full concentration can be aimed at the mission is the best course of action.

  I check Dan’s sizes so I can pick him up a fresh combat uniform while I’m gone, but the Lieutenant tells me he will get that arranged for both of us; he takes our sizes and he assures us that the uniforms will be here when we get back. The Lieutenant and I then make our way out of the hangar and to the Defender.

  Chapter 8

  The engine starts on the Defender and we leave the hangar behind, driving back through the swarm of Apache helicopters, towards the departure lounge from earlier.

  Crews, engineers, air force personnel and other airport staff are absolutely everywhere, loading ordnance, fuelling and checking; this doesn’t surprise me, as it’s only an hour and twenty minutes until Operation Denial, to take back London is due to get underway. There are personnel all around, and we have to drive slowly through the melee and have to brake sharply once as an American pilot walks straight out in front of us, not expecting cars to be driving through. He slams his hand down on the bonnet of the Defender, shouting and gesticulating as only an American can, before carrying on his journey.

  “What role is the U.S playing in today’s operation?” I ask Lieutenant Winters.

  “Initially, they are supplying air support at our request; we just haven’t got enough helicopters to provide the amount of air support and cover we need. No other support has been requested as of yet. We shouldn’t need it, although if the mission goes badly, command may have to change their position.”

  Some might think that this is very generous of the Americans, helping the UK out in its time of need and they would be right, it is good of them. Make no bones about it, however, the Americans have a vested interest in seeing the UK overcome this outbreak.

  You hear on the news about the British-American special relationship and your eyes probably start to glaze over, but when you have served in the military, you actually see that relationship in action. The Americans have by far the larger Armed Forces, but even they need Allies and the UK is their closest military ally. We speak the same language, we, on the whole hold the same values and the UK military is formidable, so invariably if there is trouble in the world, the UK and U.S are in the dirt together, side by side.

  That’s not to mention our entwined economies; the international markets have already been hit hard by this outbreak in the UK, and if the UK’s economy were to fail it, would have serious ramifications around the world. Not just in America, although they would be hit particularly hard and I suspect the Americans like the world economy just the way it is.

  Even with all that aside, why wouldn’t the most powerful Armed Forces the world has ever seen want to get in on the action, Allies or not? An Army is only as good as its last battle and if that Army doesn’t feed off the battlefield, it has a tendency to become rusty and complacent. There is a reason UK forces suddenly pop up somewhere around the world where trouble has broken out, where you think we have no cause to be; there is no better training than the real thing and it’s the same for the U.S. military.

  The U.S has so far committed air support, which is relatively low risk and good PR for the current U.S administration. The camera shots will look great on the news and win votes for sure, but you
can bet your bottom dollar U.S Special Forces are chomping at the bit to get on the ground and see some real action, as I would have been when I was active SAS and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if they are going in, in some capacity, secretly.

  “Let’s hope command doesn’t have to change their position, but the infected are so fast and strong, I just hope that the first troops going in know what they are going to be up against and are briefed fully,” I tell the Lieutenant.

  “Believe me, Captain, they have been, none of them will be under any illusion of what they are going to be up against.”

  “I bloody hope they have,” I say.

  The cabin of the Defender goes quiet as the journey nears its conclusion, both of us, I suspect, contemplating what is in store for those troops as 1000 hours approaches.

  We pull up and Lieutenant Winters applies the hand brake, turns off the engine still in silence and we both get out and go over to the same door we exited from earlier, that leads back up the stairs and into the departure lounge.

  “Is there any chance of getting my M4 back, the one I had when I arrived yesterday before we went into quarantine?” I ask the Lieutenant as we climb the stairs.

  “I’ll have to see on that one, Captain, I am not sure what happened to weapons that were brought in. The equipment in the hangar includes M4s?” he says looking a bit bemused.

  “See what you can do, as I doubt if anyone else arrived with an M4 Carbine and I’m quite attached to mine.”

  “I’ll make some enquiries,” he volunteers and I thank him.

  Having reached the top of the stairs, we walk across the departure lounge and the Lieutenant leads me to the stairwell that we could have used instead of climbing down the escalator earlier this morning. We go up one floor and come out at the same level as the top of the escalator, but instead of going down the same corridor that leads to the conference room area, we go left down another corridor and not far along, I start to hear voices.

  An over-elaborate, ostentatious sign tells me that our destination is the First-Class lounge, which I suppose makes sense. The people in there will feel comfortable, with the facilities they need, while not feeling they are been held—effectively under house arrest—but if they did try to leave the two uniformed guards, one either side of the entrance would have something to say about it.