‘What makes you think I know?’ George replied, as he drank back half his drink.
‘Well, you’ve been with Al’s lot longer than I have – you must have some idea.’
‘Well,’ George started as he poured himself another JD, ‘if it’s going to pan out like most of the other jobs, we’re gonna have to take them out.’
‘So we are pretty much just assassins?’
‘Pretty much,’ said George. ‘But we take out the bad guys.’ With that he downed his drink.
‘Well, if we’re going to kill them we should do it when they’re all together. Like tonight,’ Cam mused.
‘Yeah, so we’ve got a week to put a plan together. Well, I’m off. I’ll be in touch tomorrow, when Al’s got back to us.’
‘OK George mate, thanks for your help tonight.’ George opened the door and stepped out into the corridor.
‘I’ll probably see you tomorrow. Good night, Cam.’
‘See you later.’ Cam closed the door.
After George left he topped up his drink. JD was a new thing for him – usually a scotch drinker, he decided to give it a try when he saw it on offer. He was almost ashamed to admit that it was good. It probably joined his favourite list along side Whyte and Mackay and Teachers. He never thought he would enjoy an American whisky.
He sat waiting for a reply from Al; he had no idea when it would come. There was no chance that he would be given any more tasks tonight, so it was safe to have a few more whiskies. Cam started to relax as he slowly sipped his JD. The sun would be up soon, he thought, as he looked towards his living room window. His eyes felt tired – he had been up for what felt like forever. Slumped on his sofa, he fell asleep with his glass resting on his stomach.
It was the light seeping through the blind that woke him. He squinted as he sat up and as he did so the glass fell and bounced across the floor.
‘Shit!’ He stood up and rubbed his face with his hands, trying to wake up. He glanced over at the computer screen; it indicated he had an email waiting. He stumbled over to the computer and sat down on the black swivel chair.
From the info you provided we have identified four individuals. The first three: Bell, Reilly and Palmer, you already have profiles of. The fourth is Doug Roberts, another high-level manager at the plant. Attached is his profile. He and Bell are the protagonists of this group and Palmer and Reilly are most probably being groomed for further attacks – most likely in the same vain as the St James one. They are communicating by disposable mobile phones that they renew every few days. This makes it very difficult to intercept. You are to eliminate all four. Make it quick, they are planning something. Use all means at your disposal, if you need anything, you know what to do. Good luck.
Cam printed the profile of Doug Roberts and added it to those of the other three. He flicked through the pages, absorbing every piece of information about these people. He wondered what they had planned. What did Bell have in mind for his two junkie puppets?
‘Hey Cam, it’s George.’
‘Hi George.’ Cam turned on the loud speaker of his mobile and held it close to his ear.
‘What you get from Al?’
‘We are to take them out – all four of them.’
‘When?’
‘Soon as possible. I suggest next week when they are all back on shift together.’
‘That’s what I thought. How we going to get in?’
‘I thought, keep it simple and hop the fence.’
‘I like simple. We need to know if the perimeter fence has PIDS.’
‘I’ll check it out tonight. I’ll have a gander at their security systems and get back to you.’
‘OK, good. Keep in touch.’
‘Speak to you later.’ With that he hung up. ‘Looks like I’m back out tonight,’ he thought. ‘I need some sleep.’
Chapter 24
Once again, Cam found himself in the same gorse bush as the previous night. This time he was alone and the clear night had turned cloudy. That made the night darker and Cam felt more at ease. He was better concealed than the night before.
He watched and tried to time the guard patrols to see if they were regular. As it turned out they were not – they were random. The only thing he could be sure of was that after a patrol passed, he would have at least ten to fifteen minutes until another one went by – some with dogs, some without – also completely random.
He looked along the fence line; he pulled out his binoculars from his pocket and looked the full length of the perimeter. There were cameras, but they were few and far between. They looked like the kind of cameras that could be moved by remote control. However, Cam hadn’t seen them move the whole time he had been there. Cameras could easily be tampered with but that would undoubtedly bring unwanted attention. He decided that it would be best to avoid them – that wouldn’t be too hard; there were long stretches that weren’t covered.
Next he needed to know if the fence that surrounded the station had PIDS. If it did, it could be a problem. Perimeter Intrusion Detection Systems could be installed into fences of all kinds. They registered movement on the fence and alerted guards to an exact point that was being tampered with. Cam would need to ascertain if it was in operation there.
Cam sat and watched, waiting for the next patrol to go by. He saw a two-man patrol come into view; they moved slowly along the inside of the fence line. They were observant and professional. The CNC were known to be a very good, well-trained police force. Cam watched them disappear into the distance, and he knew it was time to move.
He crawled forward out of the bush and into the open. It was just over a hundred metres to the fence line. Cam knelt up and slowly crept forward, staying vigilant all the time. Another patrol could appear at any time. He looked like a small bush in his ghillie suit as he approached the fence. He reached out his hand and rattled the fence. He then turned and ran back to the safety of the gorse bush.
Once back in the bush and completely concealed, he waited again. It wasn’t long before a patrol vectored in on the exact area that he had rattled. Their flash-lights checked the fence for damage or tampering. They would obviously not find anything and when they didn’t they said something into their radios and moved off.
‘So, they definitely have PIDS,’ Cam thought. He knew they would have to get round the problem. Luckily he had done it before and knew how to proceed. It was a time-consuming process, but they had five more nights before they moved in on the targets.
Cam walked back to his car. It was parked in the same place he and George had used the night before. He arrived at the car and opened the door and removed his newly acquired ‘Police Aware’ sign from his windscreen. He’d call George tomorrow; they needed to get started on the PIDS issue.
* * * * * * *
‘George, good morning.’
‘Hey Cam, how’s it going?’
‘Good mate. I went back to Torness last night and checked out their security.’
‘What you get?’
‘Well, surveillance cameras won’t be a problem, looks like they are under-funded and need to update their CCTV system. But they do have PIDS.’ Cam paused.
‘Did you get any info on their patrol patterns?’ asked George.
‘That’s another thing; they are good on their patrols. No patterns, completely random. You have at least ten minutes once one passes. They were right on when I aggravated the PIDS – not much time to play with.’
‘Do you have a plan?’
‘Yes I do,’ Cam replied. ‘I’ve done this before.’
‘OK, I’m listening.’
‘Right, here’s how we’re gonna handle this,’ Cam began. ‘We’re going to take it in turns to aggravate their PIDS. Every night at about midnight, one of us will rattle the fence. The section directly opposite our gorse bush. I’ll do
Saturday and Monday, you do tonight, Sunday and Tuesday. Remember, midnight.’
‘Yeah sure, I think I know what you’re up to.’
‘Good, so you’ll go tonight?’
‘No probs bud.’
‘Good. Also prep for an infiltration op for Wednesday.’
‘Yeah, I’m on it.’
‘Good, I’ll be in touch.’
With the conversation over, Cam had time to sit back, relax and think things over. He was going to have an easy night; George was going to Torness, so he might check out Doug Roberts’ place. He didn’t expect much – but it might be worth a look.
That night was dark, the weather was definitely turning. Cam found himself once again sitting in his car, watching a house he had never seen before. That was how all those things went. Nothing for hours and hours, followed perhaps by a short period of excitement. It required a specific type of person; not everyone could handle that type of work, remaining inconspicuous for long periods of time while remaining constantly alert.
Doug Roberts had been home most of the day; he only left for an hour and a half. As Roberts’ car was hidden completely from view, Cam had managed to have a good look inside it. He was looking for items of interest that he might have left lying around. As it happened, very little was left on display. He had, however, noticed the mileage on the dashboard. When Doug returned he once again checked the mileage – he had travelled thirty-eight miles. Cam spent some time measuring distances on his street map. Doug might have visited either Bell or Reilly. It was impossible to tell who he’d visited; it might have been neither of them, completely unconnected.
He looked up from his street map, Roberts was clearly visible talking on a mobile phone. He was shouting into it, obviously very angry. He was really giving it some. Cam noticed the phone was a colourful-looking cheap one. He realised a man like Roberts wouldn’t have a phone like that, he would have an expensive smart phone. Obviously one of those disposable things Al was on about. Cam almost got out of his car – he even had his hand on the door handle. He fidgeted in his seat but resisted the urge to get out – he had to be careful. It wasn’t worth blowing it on this. Instead he sat back and watched as Doug finished his call and threw the phone across the room. ‘What the hell was that about?’ he thought, as he looked at his watch. It was half eleven at night. ‘I wonder if George is where he should be.’
As it happened, he was. George was kneeling behind the gorse bush, looking through his night scope. He was waiting for his moment. Cam had been right, it was very hard to judge the right moment; the patrols were random and plentiful. He checked his watch – eleven thirty-five. He had to go for it; time was slipping away.
The two figures rounded the corner, just out of view. It was now or never. George was up and sprinting for the fence – it was not ideal, but he needed to get it done. He reached the fence, gripped it with his fingers and gave it a good shake. The fence twanged as it sprang back into place. George turned and ran – he felt like he was a child again back in Ireland, running from the doorbell he had just rung.
He had only just managed to get back to the bush as a four-man patrol along with a barking dog arrived at the spot of the shaken fence. George lay prone on the ground, the damp, coarse grass slowly soaking into his trousers. Lights flashed erratically back and forth as the Nuclear Police Officers checked the fence. They inevitably found nothing wrong with the fence and eventually went back to their regular patrols.
With his work completed, George sneaked away from the power station and back to his car. He could feel the dampness of his trousers rubbing his legs as he hurried back across the scrubland. It was going to be an uncomfortable drive home.
In the meantime, Cam was checking something out. Doug was clearly unhappy. He could have visited either Bell or Reilly – so what was he upset about? Cam had a theory. He thought that Doug had visited Reilly and found him in a drug-induced state, just as he had, some nights previously.
* * * * * * *
Reilly’s house hadn’t changed – if anything it looked more run-down than last time. He jumped over the rusty railings again and crouched down under the window through which he had seen him before. A car went past on the road where Cam had left his own car. Nothing to do with either him or Reilly, but he waited until the road was quiet again.
The light in the hallway was off this time, so if he were to look in he would be visible from inside the house. He raised his head and peered in the bottom left corner of the window – the stairs were clear. He now looked round into the doorway that led to another room – clear.
He moved round to the back yard. More rubbish littered the paved garden; Cam was not surprised. Looking up he could see a light on in one of the upstairs rooms. Cam wanted to get a look. A drainpipe ran down the wall near to the window in question. He checked it out; it was secured to the wall and firmly connected to the guttering along the roof. Cam gripped the black-painted pipe and leaned back; he placed his feet flat against the pebble-dashed wall and began to climb toward the lit window. He moved foot over foot, hand over hand, until he was level with the windowsill.
Cam knew he could not be seen when he looked into the bedroom. Inside he could see no one. He climbed a little bit higher. He then saw the top of someone’s head; someone was sitting at the foot of the bed. A few inches higher and he realised it was Reilly – spaced out again. He was slumped on the floor at the end of his bed. Cam climbed back down and stood in Reilly’s yard.
He had to think about this. Had Doug come round, found Reilly doped up, left and gone home and phoned Bell? Could that be why he was so pissed off? Was one of his bombers hooked on drugs, and putting their plans in jeopardy? If Doug had been there and Reilly was in that state, the door would probably be unlocked as he wouldn’t be able to lock it from the outside. Cam walked round to the front and tried the front door. It opened.
Chapter 25
‘How’d it go last night?’
‘Good, shook the fence at about half eleven, guards checked it out and left after about five minutes.’
‘Good,’ Cam said. ‘I checked out Roberts’ house. I think he went round to Reilly’s and found him out of his head. He then called Bell and had a heated conversation. I could be wrong though, but I’m worried they might bring their next op forward.’
‘Maybe,’ replied George. ‘But we have to stick to the plan; it’s all resting on you getting in there on Wednesday night.’
‘Yeah, I know. Well I’m going tonight; I’ll let you know how it goes.’
‘All right, later.’
Cam sat and tried to compile a list of equipment that he might need for Wednesday. He would have to gain entry to the plant undetected, get into the building and find Bell’s office and kill the members of the cell – all four of them. Once he had thought of every eventuality, he emailed it off to Al. He received a reply almost instantaneously saying to expect it tomorrow in the usual place.
He spent the remainder of that day resting, but he also went for a run. It felt like he had been involved in this for months. In actual fact it had not even been two weeks. Still, it felt good to blast out a run, even if the weather was a bit miserable. He tried to get some sleep but found it hard – his mind was full of so many thoughts whizzing round his head.
That night he copied George. He rattled the fence, attracting the attention of the guards. Not much had changed. Cam hoped his plan would work, but the signs were not encouraging.
All that changed two nights later when it was Cam’s turn again. It was the Monday before the planned attack. Cam had returned to the gorse bush, a little worried they might be leaving too much of a trail. The grass had started to get flattened over the five previous nights. Feeling a little nervous that someone may have noticed, he made his move.
He dashed for the fence, gave it a rattle and hid himself back in the bush. This time, however,
nothing happened. Had his plan worked? He waited, still nothing. ‘It’s worked; they’ve turned off the PIDS to that section of the fence.’ Cam knew they would get sick of going to the same section night after night. They either thought it was malfunctioning or that it was some kind of animal movement. ‘As long as it stays off,’ he thought.
The next night George had the same result, and he relayed the information to Cam on the Wednesday morning.
‘It’s still off,’ George said.
‘Good, I’m going to contact Al; I’ll get back to you.’
‘Speak to you later.’ Cam hung up. Tonight was the night. He was hit by a wave of nerves – these were dangerous and committed people, and it would not be easy.
He sent his final plan to Al, and he received the reply with the approval he needed, along with the usual wishes of good luck. He checked the equipment sent to him. Black clothing and Adidas assault boots – they were soft and silent. All the other items he ordered were packed into the black rucksack and tested for noise. He put on his equipment and jumped up and down; it sounded good.
‘George, it’s been approved.’
‘So we’re on for tonight?’
‘Yes, we’re good to go.’
* * * * * * *
Cam was waiting in the underground car park, ready to go. George would be there any minute. The light was fading and it was time to get going. George pulled up, Cam put his rucksack in the boot and got in. Nothing was said on the way to the drop-off point; they both knew the plan and the risks involved. That was enough to keep them both quiet.
They decided to approach from a different direction; they had overlooked one of the first rules of anti-surveillance: never set patterns. And they had. Over the last week they had used the same approach and egress route – even the same bush to hide in. The bush had started to show signs of damage. All it would take would be a suspicious guard to have a quick look outside the wire.
They drove past the road that led to the main gate. This was the most heavily guarded area of the plant, and he could never get in that way. They had to head to the section of fence they had worked on – that was his safe way in. George slowed to a stop on the main road, at a distance where the guards on the main gate would not be able to tell if the car was moving or not.
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