Meltdown

by Andy McNab

  National and international implications

  Specially convened government think-tank, in conjunction with our European partners, predicts that if Meltdown is permitted to spread at current rate, health services throughout Europe could go into overload within two years, and violence on the streets will reach uncontrollable levels, leading to the implementation of martial law. The think-tank also stresses the danger of the Meltdown formula falling into the hands of a terrorist organization. Worst-case scenarios include the possibility of Meltdown being converted into liquid form to contaminate public water supply or into a highly concentrated aerosol form for use in confined spaces, e.g. public transport. Full think-tank report attached (Doc: GTT/829745a).

  National and international security situation

  The added threat of potential terrorist interest/ involvement in this drug dictates that we continue to keep the full effects of Meltdown unknown to the general public for as long as possible. Note: This instruction comes from the highest possible level, with unanimous agreement from European partners. Public, press, media, police and other arms of the security services must remain ignorant of the operation.

  Current operational situation (UK)

  Total failure of previous raid on suspected DMP and lack of further strong intelligence has led to a rethink on tactics and strategy and the planned formation of a Meltdown Task Force. Surveillance operations continue, targeting Meltdown users and dealers. These have resulted in some new leads, but a highest level decision has been made to take no further direct action until the Meltdown Task Force is operational. Vitally important that task force becomes operational immediately.

  Operational aims

  To infiltrate organization producing drug, destroy manufacturing plants, identify and eliminate European distribution network and contacts. To eliminate all those knowing the Meltdown formula and to destroy formula itself.

  CLASSIFIED – CLASSIFIED – CLASSIFIED

  1

  Canada

  'Get to the ERV!'

  Danny knew enough about SOPs by now to follow his grandfather's order without argument.

  He didn't wait to collect anything; everything he would need for the next few hours and, if necessary, the next few days was hidden at the ERV.

  He slipped noiselessly away from the wooden cabin by the edge of the vast dark lake and disappeared into the towering trees. The ERV was a kilometre into the forest and Danny's first objective was to get there and wait. For six hours. After that, if his grandfather, Fergus, didn't turn up, there were other plans to put into action. But that was for later.

  Inside the cabin, Fergus peered through an open but shuttered window at the mud track, which rose gradually for 150 metres. At the top of the incline sat a stationary black 4x4.

  Fergus had already taken the hunting rifle with a telescopic sight off the wall bracket above the fireplace and then lifted the bolt before gently pulling it back to reveal the shiny brass of a round already in the chamber. He pushed the bolt home and didn't bother to apply the safety catch.

  He took aim through the shutters and focused on the 4x4. The powerful sight easily picked out the features of the person behind the wheel, a face that Fergus instantly recognized.

  He was surprised; he hadn't expected them to come like this. He had anticipated a sudden hit by a full team. But he was calm as he calculated all the possibilities: his years in the Regiment and his later work as a 'K' meant he was always ready for any eventuality.

  He placed the cross-hairs dead centre on the face. It would be a simple shot, as easy as a fairground shooting gallery.

  Danny reached the ERV and got straight to work without even pausing for breath.

  He had no official military or intelligence service training, yet he operated like a professional – but then he'd had a good teacher, the best. And Danny had learned quickly. He'd had to in order to stay alive.

  Now it seemed as if their lives were in danger again, but like his grandfather, Danny had learned not to panic in a crisis.

  They'd chosen the spot for the ERV because of the good line of sight in every direction and because the huge fallen tree made a perfect marker. Close to the massive trunk lay a chunk of flat grey stone. Rocks like this dotted the landscape so it looked perfectly natural.

  Danny shifted the stone to one side and cleared away the leaf litter. He used his hands to dig into the soil beneath and soon unearthed two black plastic bags just below the surface. Inside each bag was a day sack packed with tinned food, bottled water, fresh clothes and a wad of cash.

  Quickly and methodically, Danny removed the day sacks from the protective bags and checked the contents, keeping a watch all the time for anyone who might be approaching through the forest.

  But no one came near. The only sounds were birdsong and the light breeze that shivered through the treetops. Danny refilled the hole he had dug and replaced the leaf litter and the flat stone. When he and Fergus left, there would be no sign of them ever having been there.

  Danny stood up and checked the area where he had worked. It was just as it had been when he'd arrived. His grandfather would be pleased, if he ever reached the ERV. They had often discussed their contingency escape plans, and even though Danny wasn't panicking, he was worried.

  All he could do now was wait. If his grandfather hadn't shown up when the six hours were up, he was on his own. But he wasn't thinking about that, not yet.

  He sat down with his back to the tree trunk and peered out through the trees in the direction he had come from. Nothing. No one. He glanced upwards: the sky was as grey and cold as the rocks that lay all around.

  For all he knew he might never see his grandfather again. He might already be dead. They had known each other for little more than a year, but in that year so much had happened. They'd spent much of it on the run, battling to clear Fergus of the false accusations levelled against him.

  Now they were on the run again. Things hadn't gone well between Danny and Fergus in the four months since their escape from New York. They'd become almost like strangers again.

  Danny sighed. 'He's always making me run away. Like I'm still a kid, like he still doesn't trust me. I could have stayed and helped him.'

  He stared through the trees again, knowing in his heart that his grandfather had been protecting him. Fergus couldn't run any more; two gunshot wounds in the same leg meant that swift movement was impossible, whereas Danny was an experienced cross-country runner. Fergus had stood his ground to fight so that his grandson could escape.

  Danny sighed again. 'He's probably gone and got himself killed.'

  2

  Fergus had almost smiled as he watched the small, elderly man step from the 4x4 and begin buttoning up his overcoat.

  He knew the procedure. Through the rifle's telescopic sight, Fergus watched him raise both arms on either side of his body to signal that he was about to approach. And as he started walking down the long track, Fergus covered every step.

  Although the little man appeared harmless and seemed to be alone, Fergus was too seasoned a campaigner to take anything for granted. He watched and waited, his finger resting on the trigger of the hunting rifle.

  Far down the track, the man's first few steps were hesitant, but as he got closer he seemed to grow in confidence. He couldn't see Fergus or Danny, but he knew perfectly well that, somewhere, a weapon was being aimed at his head. And as he neared the cabin, he became increasingly certain that Fergus was going to let him speak, rather than dropping him before he got the chance to open his mouth.

  Fifteen metres from the cabin he stopped. He spoke loudly and clearly, still with both arms outstretched.

  'Good morning, Mr Watts. You have my word that I'm completely alone, and unarmed. I'd be most grateful if you would permit me to lower my arms and join you in the, er . . . cabin.'

  There was no reply.

  He sighed. 'I'm too old for all this, Mr Watts. I just want to talk. That's all.'

  Danny checked his watch. He
'd been at the ERV for nearly two hours and there was still no sign of his grandfather.

  As the minutes passed, he grew more and more worried and started thinking about going off his grandfather's precious SOPs by carefully working his way back towards the cabin to see for himself what was going on.

  Fergus would be furious, but Danny was used to that. Since they'd made it to Canada there had been moments of anger and long silences, with neither of them capable putting right what had gone wrong. Danny's thoughts turned to Elena. She'd been his best friend, his closest confidante, and much more than that: he'd loved her. He still did. He knew it more every day. And he missed her.

  He was thinking about the way they had talked and laughed and planned their futures when he suddenly heard the slight crack of a twig breaking.

  He looked up. It was his grandfather.

  Fergus saw the look of relief on his grandson's face. He smiled. 'What have I told you about staying alert at all times? You should have pinged me several minutes ago.'

  Danny managed a slight smile of his own. 'I was . . . thinking.'

  'Yeah,' said Fergus, nodding. 'It seems we've got a bit more thinking to do.'

  Danny stood up. 'Who was it – in the four by four?'

  'Dudley.' He saw his grandson's surprised stare. 'You'd better come and hear what he's got to say.'

  Dudley was one of the top men in MI5. He had been behind Operation Black Star, which had ended so calamitously in New York with the death of Elena. And he had been in ultimate charge of the earlier plan to eliminate both Fergus and Danny. It was not surprising that they were wary of him.

  He had come up with the new plan for Operation Meltdown. It was daring and risky, but Dudley didn't care about that. Not any more. They had talked him into delaying his retirement; they would have to go along with his unorthodox methods. He had been looking forward to retirement, but the sense of being needed and the heavy hint at a possible knighthood if the vital operation was successful were ample compensation for the delay.

  Dudley knew little about designer drugs, but when the think-tank report labelled Meltdown the most dangerous concoction ever to have come out of an illegal laboratory, he reasoned that drastic measures were required. Thousands, possibly hundreds of thousands, of lives were at risk, and there was the added dire warning of the Meltdown formula falling into the hands of terrorist organizations.

  Operation Meltdown would be a complex, dangerous and dirty operation, and Dudley had decided that the person he wanted to lead his task force was Fergus Watts.

  3

  Dudley slowly stirred a steaming mug of thick black coffee. He looked tired; the flight from the UK and the long drive had taken their toll. He sipped at the coffee and felt the surge of caffeine.

  Having given Danny the broad details of the growing Meltdown crisis and told him about his proposed special task force, Dudley had suddenly seemed very tired. He'd unbuttoned the overcoat he always wore and asked for a coffee.

  While Fergus made the brew, Dudley glanced at Danny, who was turning over in his mind everything that had been said. Whatever decisions were made, Fergus wouldn't make them alone.

  'Why us?' said Danny.

  'Firstly, because of your grandfather's vast experience in combating drugs traffickers. FARC in Colombia, the IRA drug runners in Northern Ireland. He's been inside those organizations; he knows how they operate. That knowledge will be invaluable.'

  Danny shrugged; it wasn't enough to have brought Dudley all the way from his comfortable office in London.

  'And then there are the people we're targeting,' Dudley added quickly. 'They're vain and arrogant. They enjoy the champagne lifestyle and they like to mix with the famous or even the infamous. They will undoubtedly be drawn to high-profile characters like yourselves once their own problems begin.'

  'High profile?' asked Danny. 'Us?'

  'Oh, you will be,' said Dudley, reaching into an inside pocket of his overcoat. He pulled out a folded sheet of paper, opened it and placed it on the table for Danny to read. It was a mock-up of a newspaper headline.

  TRAITOR REVEALED

  AS SECRET HERO

  'That's one of my own,' said Dudley, shrugging modestly. The hot coffee had had a reviving effect. 'But I'm sure my experts will come up with even more tantalizing headlines, as well as the stories to go with them.'

  Danny looked over at his grandfather. 'I don't get it.'

  'Let him explain,' answered Fergus quietly.

  Dudley swiftly outlined his plan. 'Your grandfather has a history. I want to use that history to draw in our targets.'

  'But why? Why not use one of your own men?'

  'Because there isn't time, Danny. The Meltdown crisis is spiralling out of control. There's no time to create a believable legend for some non-existent hero. Your grandfather's story is all there on the record, in black and white.'

  Danny listened as Dudley explained that he was already preparing a carefully orchestrated press campaign. A deliberately leaked MI5 report would reveal that Fergus had played a massive part in halting a worldwide teenage suicide bombing campaign, after being secretly recruited for Operation Black Star.

  He would be acclaimed as a national hero and, as a result, the government would have no option but to publicly 'pardon' him for his previous crimes against the country. Fergus had long been accused of being a traitor, of selling out to the FARC drug barons in Colombia when he was meant to be working towards their destruction. They all knew it was a false accusation, but it would remain on the record.

  'But he's innocent,' said Danny quickly. 'You know that. We proved it before the Black Star operation.'

  Dudley nodded indulgently. 'Of course I know it. But we want our targets to think exactly the opposite. We want them to think that he's guilty; that he's corrupt, perfectly willing to enter into a shady deal if the money is right. That's what will make him attractive to them.'

  'But why should—?'

  'Let me finish, please?' said Dudley, holding up his hands. 'We'll make it absolutely clear that while we're grateful for everything your grandfather has done, he can never again be employed by any government organization. That's important.'

  He sat back, looking pleased with his plan. He raised his eyebrows, inviting Danny's questions.

  'These targets you keep talking about, who are they?'

  The elderly man shook his head. 'I'm afraid that information must remain classified until I know that you're in.'

  Danny pushed away his chair and stood up. 'I've had enough of all this classified shit.' He glared at his grandfather. 'And operational secrets.' He started to walk towards the door.

  'Wait, Danny!' said Fergus. As Danny stopped by the door, Fergus fixed his eyes on Dudley. 'The targets? Who are they?'

  Dudley sighed. 'They're young brothers – twins by the name of Headingham.'

  'So, if you've got a name, why don't you just go in and bust them?'

  'Because it's not the right way, I'm certain of that now. There are no new clues to the location of the DMP – we had a task force go into a warehouse we suspected was manufacturing drugs, but it was absolutely empty; we don't understand where and how they're making Meltdown. And the distribution network is also a complete mystery. I'm absolutely sure there's at least one much bigger fish somewhere in Europe who we need to identify and net. I'm convinced that the only way to get everything we want is by infiltrating the twins' setup. But it must be done quickly.'