Terminal (Major Crimes Unit Book 4)

by Iain Rob Wright

  Let’s see how fit flight simulators make you.

  “Oliver Simpson, you’re under arrest,” she yelled, more to let bystanders know she was an officer of the law rather than anything else. She pumped her fists and leant forward into her run. “Damn it. Stop!”

  But Oliver Simpson didn’t stop. The kid weaved and dodged on rapid feet, avoiding startled spectators and confused onlookers – including a police officer who tried, and failed, to tackle him. Finally, Oliver ducked into an alleyway behind some shops and disappeared. Sarah didn’t know Watford at all, but she imagined he didn’t either. With any luck, the kid would run himself into a dead end. Sarah raced into the alleyway after him.

  Rather than a dead end, however, the alleyway stretched on in a narrow corridor with an opening at both ends. It was an obstacle course of overflowing bins and refuse, and it appeared some ne’er-do-well had fly-tipped a bunch of old appliances and furniture there.

  Oliver pulled ahead, jinking between the junk. Sarah could pull out her Sig and try to take him down, but she wanted him alive, and by the time she set her sights, he would be another thirty metres ahead and still moving. It would be a hard shot to pull off, even for her. The second option was to stop and call for backup, but that involved slowing down and allowing Oliver to get even further ahead. The third option was to keep the chase alive. As long as he was in her sights, he wasn’t getting away.

  Despite a growing lead, Oliver stopped to tip over a wheelie bin. He clearly hoped to impede Sarah’s progress, but she hurdled it with ease. “You’re going to have to do better than that, kid,” she shouted breathlessly. “Just stop this. Stop running and talk to me.”

  Her number one priority was getting justice for the victims and their families, but she still wanted to hear Oliver Simpson’s story. She needed to understand how a seventeen-year-old could drop a jumbo jet out of the sky like a lawn dart. It was a doorway the world couldn’t afford to have opened.

  Sarah drew on her inner reserves and picked up speed. She couldn’t keep the pace up for long, but she needed Oliver to know that she was right on his heels. At the same time, her hopes paid off as the kid’s speed faltered. His sprint became a scurry and would soon become a winded jog. Once that happened, she’d have him. The kid might not realise it, but the chase was over. Sarah’s biweekly jogs around the MCU compound had paid off.

  Oliver neared the end of the alleyway, his speed continuing to taper. He seemed to realise he wasn’t going to get away, because he started shouting back at her to leave him alone, and promised to turn himself in of his own accord. But that wasn’t good enough. He didn’t get to choose when he faced responsibility. Sarah blew air out of her cheeks and a lengthy stitch embedded itself beneath her left rib, but she wouldn’t stop until she had her hands on Oliver Simpson. This ended right now.

  With only ten metres between them, the kid finally accepted the futility of his escape. He came to a stop and turned to face her. Unlike before, in the computer shop, he wasn’t armed with a screwdriver, but despite that, Sarah didn’t go in hard and tackle him. She came to a stop five metres away and put her hands up to show there were no guns involved. “It’s over, Oliver. You’re coming with me.”

  Oliver backed up, moving towards the end of the alleyway. She didn’t think he planned on fleeing. It was just instinct, his body moving him away from the scarred, unrelenting bitch trying to lock him up forever. His words came out in a blubber of breathless emotion. “I-I’m so sorry. I saw… I saw what I did. It was stupid to stick around, I know, but I couldn’t leave. I knew you’d catch me, but please just give me a little longer. I’m not ready.”

  Sarah had a hundred questions ready, but she found it hard to be tough on the kid, despite what he had done. They were standing in a deserted, rubbish-filled alleyway. A minute to catch their breath wouldn’t make a difference. “Oliver, just tell me what the hell happened? Why did you do this?” She put her hands on her hips and took a breath. “Fuck, how did you do this?”

  Oliver shook his head and stared at nothing. When he spoke, it was as much to himself as it was to Sarah. “I… I was just messing around. I only hacked into the plane because it was supposed to be impossible – like a game, you know? A challenge. Nobody ever hacked into a plane’s controls before. I thought… I thought that if I could do it, it would be a big deal. Maybe I thought it would change things.”

  Sarah shook her head. “Change what?”

  Oliver flapped his arms as if the answer should have been obvious. “My life. Sports, girls, friends, it’s all so hard. But give me a keyboard and monitor and everything changes. Suddenly, I know exactly what I’m doing and everything makes sense. I’m the one who understands everything and can do anything. But I never meant to hurt anybody, I swear. I didn’t even know what I was doing.”

  “You understood what you were doing, kid. Maybe you didn’t intend to bring down a plane, but there’s a reason hacking is illegal. You knew you were breaking the law, and now hundreds of people are dead because of you. You can’t run away from that, Oliver. Your only choice now is how you want to be remembered. Do you go down in history as a cold-blooded terrorist, or do you show remorse and try to help people make sense of this? Admit to making one hell of a mistake, and then devote your life to making up for it.”

  Oliver grunted. “Make up for it? From inside a prison cell?”

  “You’d be surprised what you can do with the right mixture of willpower and regret. I had an uncle named Ollie. He did bad things, too, but he turned it around at the end because he needed to unburden his soul. If you give up now, you’ll only be remembered for mass murder. But your life can still amount to something beyond that, if you want it to. You’re young. There’s plenty of time to add some positives to your story. Cooperate, and help make sure nothing like this ever happens again. Please, Ollie, you know I’m right.”

  Ollie shook his head and squirmed. He might have been fighting the urge to run again, but he stayed put for the time being. “You’re just telling me what I want to hear. You’re trying to trick me.”

  “Nope. Whatever happens, I’m taking you in, so do whatever you want. Just listen to me first, okay? What you did today has set light to whatever hopes and dreams you might have had, but your mum and dad will still continue to love you, and even in prison you can make friends. Life takes many forms, believe me. There’s always a way to turn vinegar into wine. Right now, you’re screwed – no two ways about it – so let’s just get that part over with, all right?”

  “You should shoot me. After what I did…”

  “In any other situation I might have, but I’ve faced down evil many times in my life, Ollie, and you’re not it. You’re not irredeemable. I won’t let you die in a dirty alleyway, because you deserve a chance to atone, but also because the victim’s families deserve to see you held accountable.”

  Tears slipped from Ollie’s eyes. “I can’t atone for this.”

  “Not all of it, no. But isn’t atoning for some of it better than atoning for none of it?”

  Ollie swallowed so loudly that it seemed to echo in the alleyway. White as a sheet, he looked ready to throw up, but he nodded. “Will you stay with me?”

  “Kid, I haven’t slept in thirty-six hours, but yeah, I’ll stay with you as long as I can. You’re going to be okay. Just cooperate, in every way, and nobody will hurt you. It’s time to take responsibility, Ollie.”

  “Okay, I’ll come with you.”

  After all the excitement of the day, Sarah wasn’t kitted out to make an arrest. She had no handcuffs or cable ties and lacked any non-lethal control methods such as gas or a baton. The only thing she had to defend herself with was her Sig, but she hoped she wouldn’t have to use it. Fortunately, she was confident Ollie wasn’t going to do anything now except comply fully. He had finally accepted responsibility.

  She reached out a hand and beckoned for the kid to come to her. He took one step, moving around an old wooden dining chair, but then he turned to face t
he alleyway’s exit. A vehicle had skidded loudly to a halt in the adjoining road. A white van, beat-up and scratched.

  The one Mandy warned me about.

  The van’s suspension rocked as the back doors sprang open, and three armed men leapt out. One of them, Sarah recognised. It was Baseball Cap – although he wasn’t wearing one now. He had short brown hair styled into a tiny faux hawk.

  Damn it.

  Sarah threw out an arm and yelled at Ollie. “Get down!”

  “Wh-Who are these guys? What do they want with me?”

  Sarah whipped out her Sig and took aim. “They want to put you in a prison far worse than the one I’m offering. Now get down!”

  Ollie ducked behind a bin just as Baseball Cap and the two other men opened fire. Sarah dived behind an old washing machine for cover, and its thin metal panels immediately rattled as bullets pinged off them. She aimed her Sig over the top of the washing machine and returned fire, but she had no idea if she was hitting anything.

  “Lady from shop. You kill Sergei. Now Cosmo kill you.”

  Cosmo? Stupid fucking name. “Bigger men than you have tried,” she shouted.

  More bullets struck the side of the washing machine. Sarah flinched with every hit, returning fire again blindly, deafened by the noise. From the corner of her eye, she could see Ollie cowering behind the bin. Then Sarah saw Cosmo reach over and grab the kid by the arm, yanking him out of safety.

  “Help! Help me, please!”

  “Leave the kid alone!” Sarah aimed and squeezed the trigger. Her shot missed Cosmo by an inch, but before she could take a follow-up shot, a bullet bounced off the top of the washing machine and blood spattered across the appliance’s dirty white top. She fell back into cover, frantically checking herself and gasping with relief when she found the shallowest of wounds on her forearm. The bullet had only nicked her.

  By now she must have been on her ninth life.

  Ollie continued screaming for help, but his voice was fading as Cosmo dragged him away. Sarah tried to break cover, but bullets kept coming, piercing the washing machine’s panels and rattling around inside the drum. Her cover was going to remain cover for about another three seconds.

  She couldn’t allow Ollie to be taken away. If Maxim Ivanov forced the kid to work for him, a lot more people were going to die. She had a duty to protect the nation, but right now all she could see was a rapidly rising death toll.

  If this is my time to die, then so be it. Like Mattock said, if I do my job right, the cause of my death will be a bullet to the brain.

  Sarah leapt out of cover and started firing wildly. Cosmo was dragging Ollie around to the back of the van. His two colleagues remained in the alleyway, firing at Sarah, but they started backing away to make their getaway. Sarah’s sudden onslaught, along with her now unfettered line of sight, caused the two gunmen to press up against the alleyway walls. Sarah ducked and sidestepped, moving erratically to make herself a harder target, all the while aiming and firing, aiming and firing. She didn’t hit either target, but her shots went close enough to send both men running for the van. Sarah kept after them, trying to disguise the fact that she needed to slam in another ammo clip.

  The two gunmen leapt inside the front of the van, joining an unseen driver, while Cosmo bundled Ollie into the rear. While it was difficult to make out behind the open doors, it looked like he was punching the kid.

  Just leave him alone.

  Sarah approached the van cautiously, continuing to move erratically. She loaded a fresh clip and prepared to put three bullets into each man, as well as any spares into the driver for good measure. They were not taking Oliver Simpson.

  The kid is mine.

  She fired at Cosmo but the van’s rear door covered him. If she fired again, a round might make it through, but she risked hitting Ollie if the kid tried to make a run for it. She needed to get closer. She needed a better angle while Cosmo had his back turned.

  But before she got to take another step, Cosmo sprang out from behind the van door and wielded a heavy-gauge shotgun at her – possibly a Benelli at first glance. He shouldered it and took aim.

  “Fuck!” Sarah dropped into a crouch, hoping through some miracle that the shotgun’s wide spread missed.

  “This is for Sergei, you bitch.”

  A powerful engine roared, overpowering the meek grumble of the idling van. Sarah had closed her eyes, but she looked now to see a black Range Rover Sport ramming into the van’s rear, causing an explosion of rubber, plastic, metal, and glass. The van’s rear end crumpled. The entire vehicle hopped sideways and knocked Cosmo to the ground. The shotgun spilled out of his hands.

  Sarah leapt up and prepared to grab Cosmo, but one of the gunmen fired at her through the van’s shattered passenger window. The shooter bled from a cut on his forehead, but he was angry and alert, not at all shell-shocked by the impact. These were men used to battle.

  Car horns replaced all other sound.

  Cosmo clambered to his feet and limped over to the van, where his colleagues quickly dragged him inside. Sarah snatched the Benelli off the ground and immediately pulled the trigger. It kicked like a mule, the stock nearly hitting her chin, but a gaping hole opened up in the middle of the van’s passenger door and made her smile.

  The van pulled away from the wreckage, its bumper entangled with the Range Rover’s front spoiler and ripping free. Sarah shouldered the Benelli properly and fired again, aiming for a tyre. The van sped away causing her to miss.

  The Range Rover’s passenger door sprang open and Mandy leaned across the seats towards her. Billowing white clouds filled the vehicle’s interior – deployed air bags – and he coughed amidst a fog of white powder.

  Sarah launched herself into the passenger seat. “Move! Get after them.”

  “Hold on.” Mandy fought to get the air bags out of his face, to get a view of the road ahead, but it was an impossible feat. Every alarm inside the car was beeping at once. The dashboard flashed like a carnival ride. He tried to floor the accelerator, but the Range Rover did nothing except roar and grumble. The electronic parking brake had come on and wouldn’t release.

  Modern cars were too responsible to drive away after a crash.

  Once again, technology was the enemy.

  Mandy growled and punched the steering wheel. “We’re not going anywhere.”

  Sarah yelled in frustration and punched at the air bags. She couldn’t blame Mandy. He had just saved her life.

  No time for anger. I need help.

  Sarah took out her phone and called for backup. Thomas answered.

  “Sarah, where are you? Are you wounded?”

  “My default state is ‘wounded’. Alert every unit we have in Watford. Target is a beat-up old van, white in colour, with a squashed arse and a banged-up passenger door. I want to hear you put the alert out, right now.”

  “I’m going to do it, Sarah. I just want to know first that you’re—”

  “Put out the alert,” Sarah barked, “then we’ll talk.”

  “Okay, okay. Hold on.”

  Sarah pulled aside the airbag and switched on the Range Rover’s fitted radio unit, which thankfully still worked despite the crash. She waited for Thomas’s voice.

  “All units, be advised. High priority suspect fleeing car accident in Watford town centre. Target is a white van, damaged rear and side-door. All available units, please respond.”

  Sarah sighed and flopped back in her seat. The air bags were deflating, so she could see Mandy’s powder-covered face. He appeared irate, and it took a moment to realise it was the sound of Thomas’s voice making him so. She waved a hand and made the gesture to ‘calm down’. This was the reason she, Howard, and Mattock had brought no one else in on their secret. The more people involved, the more people who could blow things.

  Mandy swallowed, took a breath, and relaxed in his seat. For a moment, the two of them just sat there, in the wreckage, probably looking quite mad. Armed police officers advanced from the other en
d of the alleyway, alerted by the sound of gunfire. They aimed their MP5s at the grounded Range Rover.

  Thomas came back across the line. “Okay, Sarah. All units have been updated. Now, tell me you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine. Running on empty, but I’ve been in worse shape. Oliver Simpson was right in my grasp, Thomas, but our Russian friends appeared again as if by magic to steal him away. It’s becoming a running theme with this kid.”

  “How do you suppose they knew the suspect’s location?”

  Sarah glanced at Mandy, and they scowled in unison at Thomas’s casual display of false ignorance. Sarah had to fight to keep the anger out of her voice. “They’ve been following me since the computer shop,” she said. “That’s the only thing that makes any sense. God knows how, but they knew I would lead them straight to Oliver Simpson.”

  “They were following you all day without you noticing?” Thomas sounded incredulous. “Seems unlikely.”

  “Maybe they’re getting help from someone inside.”

  Sarah and Mandy exchanged another glance. It was a good thing Thomas couldn’t see them.

  “You mean law enforcement? You think someone in the police is working with these Russians? Jesus, Sarah.”

  She rolled her eyes but kept her voice even. “Yeah, something like that. Right now, all I care about is reacquiring Oliver Simpson. The kid still has a conscience, but he’s hanging on by a thread. If Maxim Ivanov gets his hooks into him, it won’t be long before he takes a one-way road to Hell.”

  It’s not as if Maxim hasn’t brainwashed people before.

  Like you, Thomas.

  “That won’t happen, Sarah. Maxim’s men have nowhere to go. We’ll bring them in.”

  Sarah sighed. “Maxim Ivanov has hideouts all over the South East. If there are any nearby, Oliver Simpson will disappear, and we’ll be left poking at our haemorrhoids.”