Capital Falling Trilogy Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Winkless, Lance

  My stomach is churning like a volcano about to erupt and occasionally it feels like it might explode. I fixate on the mission; that’s my mechanism, constantly thinking, looking for any advantage, any weakness in the enemy. The fear is always there though, threatening to overwhelm me, but I control it and use it to concentrate my mind. I even nurture some of it, as fear heightens the senses, gives you an edge.

  “Gather ‘round!” I shout as I reach the entrance to the hangar, under the rolled-up shutter high above.

  Josh, nudges Dan, who is talking to his pilot, Flight Lieutenant Alder, to get his attention to my call; the people chatting break up and come quickly over, as do the members of the team who were having a moment to themselves.

  Dan joins me at my side, while Lieutenant Winters comes up behind me from inside the hangar, his phone call finished and tells me that ‘the generator will be here any minute’.

  My hands clasp behind my back and I stand up straight, trying to look commanding as I prepare to address the team, hoping they see my confidence in them and not the fear burning through me.

  “We are going into the heart of the enemy’s territory, an unfamiliar enemy, an inhuman enemy that doesn’t hold a gun or wear a uniform, but they can be killed nevertheless. We are going on a mission that could save our way of life as we know it, we go because we must and because it is our duty to try.

  “We have the equipment we need, and I know we have the team we need to get our task done. Let’s get in and out safely and as quickly as possible; we will have each other's backs and remember, if you can’t be sure of a headshot, go for their legs, do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir!” The team roars.

  “Okay, get your gear and comms on and load up, let’s do this!”

  “We got this, Boss!” Dan slaps my back as he moves out.

  “Alice,” I shout, just before she goes.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask as she comes over to me.

  “Shitting bricks, Sir,” she replies, and she does look extremely nervous.

  “That’s okay, it’s only natural. I’ve got full confidence in you, so just try to stay calm and not dwell on anything; there will be time to get things straight in your head when it’s over, okay?” I try to calm her.

  “Yes, Sir,” she says looking slightly better.

  “Good, I’ll see you back on the ground.”

  “You will, Sir,” she salutes and then she is off to load up.

  A vehicle is coming our way that must have the generator and that is my cue to rush back into the hangar to put my last bit of kit on. My pre-prepared body armour is lying on the table, the heavy armour laden with kit, including comms transceiver, grenades and as many magazines as it is possible to cram into it. I have to throw the bulging armour over my head and Lieutenant Winters assists me in doing it up at the sides. He also helps by plugging my comms headset into the transceiver before I put the headset on, over the top of my head. Lieutenant Winters gives me another quick radio check before I fit the helmet that Josh and Alice have put out for me. My new Glock is also waiting for me, and I pick it up, check the magazine before I pull back the action and put the piston into my hip holster.

  Finally, I lift my trusted M4 Carbine Assault Rifle up, give it one last check over and then lift its harness over my head, adjusting the harness straps so the rifle sits in my favoured position at my front.

  “Are you ready, Captain?” The Lieutenant asks and suddenly I feel like a nervous schoolboy ready for my first day at big school.

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  “Good luck, Captain,” the Lieutenant says, offering his hand.

  “Thanks, keep me apprised on the storm,” I say, as I shake his hand.

  This is it, I think as I hear the engines on one of the Lynx start up, closely followed by the second one behind me and my stomach does another somersault. I release the Lieutenant’s hand and take a hold of my M4’s pistol grip with my left hand, the tactical fingerless glove moulding around the grip as my hand contracts around it to keep the gun steady at my front.

  As I leave, I see Dan standing on the tarmac by the side of the Lynx on the left, the rotors buffeting him, waiting for me to come out. He sees me coming and gives me a friendly salute which I return, and he turns to climb aboard his transport. I break into a slow jog, aiming right to the other Lynx, grabbing the dark ballistic glasses hanging on the outside of my body armour as I go and slip them on. Have I put them on to protect my eyes from the sun or to hide the fear in my eyes from Josh and the other members of the team? I put the thought out of my head and duck slightly as I go under the helicopter’s spinning rotors.

  Josh is on board, waiting for me by the hold door when I arrive. He offers me his hand and I take it, then I place one foot onto the step and my legs push off. As they do, Josh pulls me up and into the Lynx’s hold.

  With everyone and all the equipment on board, there is no excuse to delay any further. Our comms are synched to the Lynx’s so I can talk to Buck straight through my headset.

  “Let’s get underway, Wing Commander.”

  “Roger,” Buck's voice sounds clearly through my headset.

  “Shall I close the hold door?” Josh asks.

  “No, leave it open, let's see what is out there,” I tell him.

  Josh and I sit down into the seats behind us, pull over the lap belts and push them home with a click. Neither of us wants to fall out of the hold door before we have even started.

  Wing Commander Buck powers the engines of the Lynx to full throttle, the downdraft created by the rotors above us counteracts the weight of the loaded helicopter and it starts to lift off the ground. Buck eases us up and back, away from the hangar, the Lynx tipping back as its nose raises, flying us back. When he is satisfied that he is at a safe distance, he levels off and starts to turn to the right, away from the hangar. As he turns, we get a view of the hangar below us. Lieutenant Winters is standing in the sun on the tarmac just outside the hangar, watching us leave. The second Lynx has just started its take-off, its rotors a blur of speed and power.

  The view is fleeting as we rapidly turn and I can only hope and pray that we will see it again, if and when we return from the mission. Our view of the hangar is overtaken by the expanse of Heathrow’s terminal buildings, its massive hangars and beyond them, the very outskirts of the Greater London suburbs with the green of the open countryside beyond again.

  Wing Commander Buck completes his turn and waits, hovering, stationary in the air, waiting for Flight Lieutenant Alders to complete his take-off. As soon as he gets confirmation it is complete, the Wing Commander dips the Lynx’s nose and accelerates forward, forward towards central London and the Orion building.

  Chapter 14

  There are six seats in the hold of the Lynx, back to back and they run down the middle of the hold, looking outward towards the doors. Three of the SBS troop have their backs to us, seated on the other seats. Josh is next to me in the middle seat on our side and Sergeant Dixon is seated next to him at the tail end, the big black briefcase nestled between his feet, under his protection.

  The Lynx virtually retraces the course we came in on last night as we leave Heathrow, steering clear of the runways, under the direction of Air Traffic Control. As we quickly approach the airport's perimeter, I am amazed at how far the construction of the new perimeter wall has progressed in the relatively short amount of time. Lorries laden with concrete blocks and other construction materials are lined up in several areas along the perimeter, waiting for their materials to be unloaded and added to the wall. JCB’s and construction teams are busy all around, constantly building the wall higher and longer. The east side of the wall looks complete and is now the military’s domain, machine-gun posts and missile batteries pointing outwards, sitting on top of hastily constructed scaffolding towers that protrude up the back of the wall.

  Tapping Josh on the knee to get his attention, I pull my headphone off my right ear and he does the same with his left headpho
ne so that we can talk privately.

  “How are you feeling?” I talk loudly into his ear so that he can hear me over the din of the Lynx’s engines.

  “The nerves are going big time, how about you?” he says into my ear while he shows me his left hand, which shakes slightly.

  “My nerves are going too; that’s to be expected, you’ll be okay in here,” I tell him.

  “Yes, I know, I’m worried about you down there though,” Josh says, looking concerned.

  “I’m confident, so don’t worry too much, and just concentrate on your task. It will help.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Use your rifle to cover us; it’s more accurate, so only use the minigun if you have to,” I tell him.

  “Yes, that’s what I am going to do,” he says.

  “Good lad, we’ll get through this!” I tell him and slap his knee.

  We both put our earphones back into place and lose ourselves in the sound of the background static that is the only sound coming through the earphones. We are all quiet for the start of the flight, the whole team contemplating the mission ahead.

  As Heathrow fades behind us, the Lynx flies over the suburbs of London, the greenery intertwined with roads, broken up by housing estates and industrial estates, but the greenery wins out. It is only when you get high up that you realise how many trees and green parks there are in London. Many people think of London as a sprawling concrete metropolis, the evidence below us proving that is not the case.

  We cross overhead the six lanes of the M4 motorway and then the Lynx turns slightly and starts to follow it for a while. The traffic using the motorway is mostly going East into the city and all of that traffic is military. There are vehicles going in the opposite direction, probably people who can still leave the city having decided that their decision yesterday to try and ride it in out in their homes was the wrong decision.

  Every moment that passes takes us deeper into the city, the M4 motorway behind us and the roads and buildings beneath us getting more concentrated. There is definitely a tinge of smoke in the air and this builds as we get close to our target. We can’t see it but we can definitely smell it in the air that blows through the open hold doors and it emphasizes why we are all here.

  I unbuckle my seat strap and being careful to hold the handrail, I get up and step over towards the cockpit and duck my head into it. I almost wish I hadn’t decided to have a look forward out of the cockpit windows because the feeling of dread in my stomach tightens from the view I get.

  London is almost entirely shrouded in smoke, thick black smoke, rising up from the burning city below. The smoke is densest in Central London and that definitely includes the Paddington Basin where the Orion building sits. Plumes reach up high above the city, too many plumes to count and the wind has also spread the smoke across the city, especially across North London. Smoke envelops wide areas of the North and the smoke then tapers away as far as the eye can see, thinning to an acrid mist as it travels.

  “Shocking, isn’t it?” Wing Commander Buck says from the pilot’s seat.

  “Very,” I tell him, “I was expecting it, I saw it yesterday, but the smoke’s much worse today, much worse.”

  “It looks like London in the 1950s and the smog it used to suffer, apart from the tall buildings that is,” Buck points out.

  “I almost wish it was the 1950s,” I say.

  “You and me both, Captain.”

  “What’s our ETA,” I ask, as we fly deeper into the smog.

  “Seven minutes to the Orion building,” he tells me.

  “Okay, keep me updated on our arrival time, please.”

  “Of course, Captain.”

  I duck out of the cockpit, swing around, plonk back into my seat next to Josh and check my watch; it’s 1357 hours, so we will arrive at Orion at 1404.

  “You heard the Wing Commander, seven minutes until target area,” I say to everyone. “Check your gear and get ready to descend.”

  Josh picks up the pack of thick heat-resistant gloves that the team will need for the fast rope descent onto the roof of Orion, and he hands me a pair and then a pair to the rest of the team, starting with Sergeant Dixon. I push mine under the side of my body armour to hold them while I check my gear. They are too thick to wear for anything but the descent, but they are vital to stop your hands from friction burning on the rope.

  Sergeant Dixon is going to have the trickiest descent because he will be taking down the equipment in the plastic briefcase, and I see him getting the straps ready to secure it to his body. Me and the rest of the team only have our weapons to carry down. On the other Lynx, they have to get the heavier plasma equipment onto the roof. Alice will lower it down once the roof has been secured.

  Darkness descends over the Lynx’s hold, and I look up and out of the open hold door, expecting to see that the atmosphere outside has got thicker with smoke as we get nearer to the city. That doesn’t seem to be the case, however; I can’t see any significant increase in the amount of smoke we are flying through. I take off my ballistic glasses to get a clearer look, and the air outside is hazy, not hazy enough to make it darken as much as it has, though. My head turns forward to try and get a view out of the front cockpit windows and it has definitely got darker than a minute ago when I was up there.

  “What’s happened to the sun, Buck?” I ask into my headset.

  “Some dark clouds have moved over, Captain, looks like rain is moving in.”

  Again, I unbuckle and get up to the cockpit, to have a proper look for myself. The scene before me now is even more sinister, there are dark clouds cutting the sunlight from the city, casting it into shadow. The skyscrapers of the City of London and Canary Wharf are barely visible, in the smoky depths of the city and with the sunlight taken from them too, they now look like black scars rising up from the ground. The loss of the sunlight above allows the orange light from fires that burn on the ground all over the city to glow and that glow resonates as if the city is sinking into hell, which it quite possibly is!

  The impending rain may well fight or even extinguish some of the fires that have taken hold and help salvage the city before it does crumble into hell, but I curse our luck.

  Rain will hamper our mission on many levels; will wet ropes mean we have to abandon our fast rope descent to the target and be forced to land the helicopters onto the roof? That would add time to the mission and aircover would be lost as the helicopters land and take off, one at a time. Sergeant Dixon cannot afford to get any of his delicate electronics wet, and he will be working on the safe next to a hole in the roof. If the rain is heavy, it could come down on his position by the safe. Rain, especially heavy rain as any soldier will tell you, dulls almost every human sense, impairs your vision, hearing and even your sense of smell and your equipment gets slippery, harder to use. Don’t get me wrong, rain can be an advantage in certain circumstances; the cover it provides can give a big tactical advantage if you are stalking an enemy or helping to cover a retreat, for example. For this mission, however, the rain, while it will mask our approach to the target, offers downsides far outweighing the up.

  “Lieutenant Winters, receiving, over?” I say urgently into my headset as I retake my seat.

  “Receiving, over,” his reply comes through.

  “Weather update, looks like rain at the target area, over?”

  “Hold, over,” the Lieutenant says; he must be checking. “Latest update, rain central London, estimated, 1410 hours, starting light to heavy, then constantly heavy, winds strong. The storm is now estimated 1450 hours, winds strong to gale force, rain very heavy and lightning expected, over.”

  “Received, the storm is getting earlier and earlier; please advise if moves forward again, over,” I tell the Lieutenant.

  “Received, over and out,” he finishes.

  The mission timing is getting tight, too tight, so everything is going to have to go like clockwork for us to stand any chance of completing the mission and leaving the Orion buildin
g before this storm hits. In any event, we are in for a soaking no matter how well the mission proceeds and we need to make sure Sergeant Dixon can work without the rain affecting him.

  “Where is the tarpaulin?” I ask Josh.

  “Tarpaulin?” Josh says.

  “Yes, the plastic sheeting!” My frustration gets the better of me.

  “I know what it is, I’m just thinking where it is?” Josh admits.

  “Josh, think, we need it.”

  He looks around the hold as if he is hoping he might see it, but then says, “I know.” He leans right down, looking under our seats, then thankfully reaches under and pulls out a newly sealed cellophane-wrapped green tarpaulin.

  “I knew I’d loaded it, sorry,” Josh says.

  “No problem, sorry I snapped. Throw it down to me, okay?” I tell him.

  “Yep, okay, Dad.”

  “Four minutes to target,” Buck’s voice comes through our earphones.

  The smoke is getting thicker inside the hold of the Lynx, and it is stinging my eyes a bit and irritating my throat. We are flying into central London and the sounds of battle from below travel through the air and up to us as we go. Even with my earphones on, I can hear the constant gunshots and explosions from the ground. We haven’t time to try and look down to see how the battle is developing; we have our own priorities to worry about, but even a glance out of the open hold door tells us the battle is ferocious and extensive. We fly straight over it and past the Apache helicopters that are dotted around at a lower altitude, their rotors cutting through the plumes of smoke, trying to support the ground troops.

  “Are you set, Sergeant?”