Sterling

by Robert Cameron

  Cam watched as he drove into the garage and the door came down. After a short time the lights in the garage went off. Cam could see the route Bell took as he moved through the house, by following the trail of lights as they were turned on then off. He finally spent some time in what could be the kitchen before moving upstairs. After an hour, all the lights went off.

  Cam saw nothing suspicious in Bell’s actions. He could have been anyone at all – just coming home, perhaps having a cup of tea and then going to bed. Should he enter the house and snoop around? Too risky. If Bell was not spooked by the failure of the St James job, then there was no point in making him paranoid.

  Cam decided to return home, but on the way back to his apartment he took the long way and went past the homes of both Palmer and Reilly. Only Reilly was still up, with lights on at the back of the house. The contrast in the two homes was huge. Reilly’s house was only about the size of Bell’s garage.

  Cam got out of his car and, after making sure it was locked, walked round the side of Reilly’s house and jumped the rusty metal railings. He peered through a side window that looked into a hallway at the bottom of the stairs. He jumped back in shock as he almost came face to face with a man sitting on the stairs. The man was hunched over as if in pain, but Cam could not see what he was doing. As the lights were on in the hallway, the man would not be able to see Cam looking in. Cam could watch as long as he wanted.

  The man straightened up and nearly lay back on the staircase. Cam now knew what he was doing. It was Reilly and he was still using. Reilly released the tourniquet on his forearm and let it drop to the floor. He sighed and closed his eyes and lapsed into unconsciousness. Cam wondered what the hell could be so good about that – and he also wondered if Bell knew about it. Devout Muslims were supposed to stay clear of all that. ‘This might work to my advantage,’ Cam thought.

  He got back in his car and began composing an email to Al. He requested that Al find out all three men’s work schedules. They all worked a shift pattern and he wanted to know when they would be out of their houses. Also he asked to know more about the two criminals and their time in prison. He then drove home.

  By the time he was back in his apartment Al had replied to his email. Cam poured himself another double and sat in front of the computer. The email contained some interesting information.

  Cam, we have been looking into the three targets’ shift patterns. All three are working the late shift tomorrow night. They’re all on ‘til two in the morning. The station will be at its lowest manning; perhaps you might like to exploit it. Bell’s office is in the main building; his window overlooks the perimeter fence on the west side. I’ve provided a station schematic in the attachment to this email. We are still looking into the prisons files on your other matter. Formulate a plan and keep me updated.

  Cam opened up the attachment and printed a hard copy. He sat for a short while and sipped his drink. He studied the plans of the station, paying particular attention to Bell’s office. When he had come up with a plan, he emailed Al to let him in on what would happen the next night. He also asked for some equipment to be delivered: a standard army-issue day sack, a laser microphone with a record function and a ghillie suit. Cam wanted to remain as undetectable as possible outside the wire of the station. He had used Google Earth to get a good view of the surrounding terrain; the ground was a dry mixture of sand and long, light grass with sporadic gorse bushes. With that in mind Cam asked for a ghillie suit of a light colouring.

  Al’s reply was short and sweet.

  Approved. I would like George to accompany you on this one. He will be equipped as you will be. Expect him early evening.

  ‘Fair enough,’ thought Cam. The more the merrier. But for now it was time for bed – the next night would be even longer.

  Chapter 23

  Cam woke early, anticipating the day ahead. He knew, however, that he would need more sleep. He turned over and closed his eyes. George was not due until the afternoon – plenty of time to sleep. The odds were that they would be up most of the night.

  When he finally got up it was gone midday. After a bite to eat he took a trip down to the car park. As Cam raised the boot of his car he saw a standard army day sack sitting in the middle of his boot. He swung it over his shoulder and closed the car and turned the key to lock it.

  When he got back into his apartment he rolled up the carpet that covered a small portion of the wooden living-area floor. ‘This might get a bit messy,’ Cam thought. He pulled the contents from the day sack and placed them on the floor. He opened the green padded pouch that contained the laser mic. The kit consisted of a combined laser mic and a receiver which had a built-in amplifier and recording system. There was also a small extendable tripod that would hold the laser steady. Cam was impressed – a system like that could cost up to ten thousand pounds. The laser would be used to record any conversations that would take place in Bell’s office. As the occupants of the room talked to each other, the sound waves from the voices would cause the windows to vibrate ever so slightly. The laser would bounce off the glass and back to the receiver, allowing the operator to listen to and record any conversations taking place in the room, without ever going near the office.

  Next came the messy bit. He unrolled the ghillie suit on the floor. He would have preferred to have made his own, but time constraints forced him to use a manufactured suit. This, however, was well-constructed, made from lengths of hessian sack, soaked in slightly differing colours of mud. These strips of hessian were attached to the back of a pilot’s flight suit; an extra attachment connected to the rear of the neck could be pulled up and used as a hood. It even smelt earthy; Cam thought that it had definitely been made by a professional sniper. The shades of the strips were about right for the terrain he would be covering. Any customisation could be done with grass, twigs or any of the local foliage once on location.

  He placed the laser mic kit at the bottom of the day sack, then rolled up the ghillie suit, which he packed in the day sack on top of the mic. In the side pouch he placed his silenced pistol, already in its holster and belt. Along with the pistol he put in some extra magazines filled with 9mm ammo. In the other side pouch he put a filled, two-litre water bottle and some Snickers bars. The top flap had some warm kit in it – gloves, hat and a shamagh – standard stuff.

  With the day sack ready by the front door there was nothing left to do but wait for George to arrive and the light to fade. It was after eight at night when George knocked on the door. Inside they sat at the breakfast bar and Cam prepared a cup of tea. Tea was part of the process; tea was usually drunk by British troops before a mission or a battle. Even American troops had slowly started to appreciate tea as opposed to coffee, and had started to drink it too… although they would never admit it.

  ‘So, Al gave me a brief about tonight, how do you want to handle it?’ George said.

  ‘Well, we’re going to put our kit into one of our cars; Al’s given you the kit list, right?’

  ‘Sure, it’s in my car; we’ll take mine shall we?’

  ‘Yeah. OK, then we’ll head out to Torness and pull up in one of the parking places a few miles from the station. Make our way on foot to the west side of the plant, hide up, laser Bell’s office window and wait. Hopefully we’ll hear something useful. Bell and the others are on ‘til two in the morning. Maybe with them all together and the plant being quiet they might talk more freely.’

  ‘Cool. Happy with that. Are we expecting any trouble?’

  ‘No, not a thing. The Civil Nuclear Constabulary don’t patrol outside the wire, so apart from some random act of God, I’m not expecting any difficulties.’

  ‘Good.’ George finished his tea with one final gulp.

  ‘Let’s get going then.’

  The night was clear and a bit colder than the previous ones. With no cloud cover there was nothing to keep the warmth in. The st
ars were starting to appear as they drove out of the city and the artificial light faded into the distance. It was going to be a bright night, as the full moon was flooding the open area with silver light. Cam saw a sign for a parking area half a mile ahead.

  ‘I think this is close enough. Shall we pull up here?’

  ‘Yes mate, should take us about an hour to walk the rest.’

  As the two men got out of the car, Cam had a look up and down the road for signs of headlights. With no sign of any approaching cars, George opened the boot and handed Cam his day sack. George grabbed his backpack – a green Berghaus thirty-litre. George obviously liked to buy his own equipment, but Cam never had a problem with issue kit and found it good enough for what he needed.

  With the bags on their backs, George pulled up the false floor of the boot to reveal a HKSL8 semi-automatic rifle with an attached night sight.

  ‘Christ! Do you know something I don’t?’ Cam exclaimed.

  ‘You have to be prepared,’ George said looking at Cam, almost disappointed that he wasn’t tooled up.

  ‘Come on – we better get a move on.’

  Before they moved off the road into the countryside, George opened the driver’s door and pulled something from the glove-box. He locked his car then attached the sign to the front windscreen. It read ‘Police Aware’.

  ‘Nice one,’ Cam said. He was impressed; he liked it when people thought of the small details. He would remember that little trick.

  ‘Like I said, you have to be prepared.’ George now wore a slight smile and looked a little bit smug. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

  * * * * * * *

  The ground was open and brightly lit by the moon – not the best for moving about undetected. Luckily they were not expecting any surprises. The two men kept at least ten metres apart and moved slowly and carefully, all the time looking all around three hundred and sixty degrees for any unusual movement apart from their own.

  After getting a good distance away from the road they stopped. Both knelt down and dragged their ghillie suits from the bags. They put them on and closed the fronts. Ties had replaced the zips, which could get jammed if you were going to be crawling around on your belly. Cam then put on the leg holster and wrapped the thigh-strap securely round his leg. He got George to pull the hessian strips out from under the belt to conceal the weapon, and they did the same when the day sacks were back on.

  Once the two men resembled walking bushes, they moved off towards the power station in the distance. George put his rifle into his shoulder and walked forward as silently as he could. Cam watched and thought he had better draw his pistol and patrol with it in his hands. He knew they didn’t need to, but George seemed to want it.

  It must have been about eleven as they approached the station. They were a few hundred metres away from the perimeter fence and they needed to find a hide. There were plenty of gorse bushes around, but they needed to find the best one – one that would conceal them and their equipment, and also offer a good view of the window that was now in sight. Cam knew that was the window because he had studied the plans earlier in the day – also it was one of the few with a light on. So Bell was in his office, and they needed to get a move on and start recording.

  They chose the bush they were going to use. They removed their day sacks and put them down in front of them and started to crawl forward. The best way to conceal yourself was to crawl through not back into; that way the bush would cover you and wouldn’t be disturbed in the direction of the target.

  Once in the bush, Cam started to set up the laser mic and tripod. With the tripod stuck into the ground to hold the mic steady, Cam began to aim it through the sight. All the time George was watching the fence and buildings for the Civil Nuclear Constabulary.

  ‘Hope this works,’ Cam said. There was still the possibility that it wouldn’t. If the glass was rippled or frosted like in a toilet or even multi-laminated glass, it would not reflect the laser properly.

  ‘OK, got it,’ Cam said. He let go of the mic carefully, so as not to move it – even a millimetre would knock it off-line. Cam gently pressed the record button and waited. With the earpiece in, he should hear everything.

  ‘Do you hear anything?’ George asked.

  ‘I think I hear movement – little movements, like typing. Someone is definitely in there.’

  As the time passed they started to doubt their plan. They had been in the hide for over an hour now, and still only recorded typing, coughing and chair scrapes. They had heard nothing useful. Cam started to think maybe he should have checked out their houses instead. He hoped he hadn’t made a bad decision.

  ‘Got movement – inside the wire, CNC patrol,’ George said calmly.

  ‘OK, shouldn’t be a problem.’ Cam was happy they were well-concealed. Even the moon was behind them, so there would be no reflections off the night scope or laser mic lens.

  ‘It’s a dog section.’ George was still calm, even though he must have been thinking like Cam. There was only a slight wind, but it was behind them and the wind would take their scent right towards the guard dog.

  ‘Christ,’ Cam said.

  ‘Wait, wait.’ George was watching as the two nuclear police with their dogs made their way along the fence line… all the time waiting for the dogs to start signing some sort of a presence. However, luck was on their side, and the patrol moved on, missing them completely. George didn’t even remove the scope from his eyes; Cam looked over at him and admired the professionalism. Cam wondered what had George done before getting involved with Al. He must have been Special Forces.

  Cam’s mind started to drift – back to his little ambulance station and the nice quiet life he had managed to carve out for himself. He wasn’t meant to be doing this sort of thing; he wasn’t in the military any more. But here he found himself. ‘You are what you are,’ he thought.

  ‘Come in, sit down, the others should be here in a moment.’

  ‘Got something!’ Whispered Cam. George remained focused on his job as cover.

  ‘Are they all coming to this meeting?’

  ‘Yes, and I expect you to treat them as a valued part of this mission.’ ‘This must be Bell; this man has a commanding voice,’ Cam thought.

  ‘They’re just so dumb.’

  ‘I know, but they are vital to our cause. So just play the game.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah OK.’ There was then a silence for a few minutes.

  ‘Steve, Phil, hello. How are you guys finding it here?’

  ‘It’s fine, I suppose,’ answered a lone voice.

  ‘Sit, sit.’ ‘That was Bell speaking,’ Cam thought. He could now tell whose the voices were that were involved in the conversation.

  ‘Do you guys fancy a drink?’

  ‘No Sir, thank you,’ came a nervous response.

  ‘Steve, Phil, please don’t be put off by what has happened over the past few days. Look, you knew Dave, but he was nothing to do with us, he must have been taking things into his own hands. He was acting alone and messed up big-time. Nothing to do with our plans – we are completely in the clear and ready to proceed with our mission. I do have your loyalty, don’t I?’

  ‘Yes Sir,’ came a hesitant response.

  ‘Good, I’ll be in touch by the usual method. Get yourselves home and get some sleep. Off you go.’

  After some chair scrapes and movement, Cam heard in his earpiece:

  ‘For God’s sake. I understand the use of these criminals, but can we trust them? Brant was a huge fuck-up – and these two aren’t much better.’ After a pause and a sigh, Bell continued.

  ‘I know, but this is what we have to work with. We both know these guys are losers, but we have to make the best of what we’ve got. Let’s do this thing – and then get out of here, OK?’

  ‘Yeah, sure – just don’t let it b
e another St James fiasco. OK?’

  ‘It won’t.’

  ‘Good.’

  And that seemed to be it. Nothing much more came out of Bell’s office. Cam heard Bell finish up his daily duties and lock up his office before heading home. Cam had recorded all he could; it was time to go. He closed down the mike and replaced it in its pouch, folded up the mike stand and put all the bits and pieces into his backpack. The two men slowly crawled backwards out of the gorse bush, knelt up, looked at each other and made off towards their waiting ride home.

  * * * * * * *

  As George drove through the night towards the glowing light of Edinburgh, he and Cam discussed the night’s events, and Cam removed the recording device from his day sack.

  ‘I definitely got Bell and his two cronies, but the fourth voice – no idea.’

  ‘Well, Al might be able to do something with the recording.’

  ‘I hope so. I’ll email it to him when I get back. I went to their houses last night, just to check them out.’

  ‘Anything interesting?’ George asked.

  ‘Not much – didn’t want to enter Bell’s house, just in case. Reilly though, is still using drugs – saw him shooting up.’

  ‘Great! A drugged-up suicide bomber. That’s all we need.’

  George pulled into the car park under Cam’s building and the two men made their way up to the apartment.

  Cam fired up the computer and began downloading the recorded conversation to his desktop, while George poured two glasses of Jack Daniels. He handed one to Cam as he was sending off the email to Al detailing the night’s findings with the recording attached.

  ‘Thanks,’ Cam said as he took the glass and had a sip.

  ‘What do you think Al’s going to want us to do?’