‘Rich, what the hell was—?’ Cam looked up at the open office door. Doug Roberts stood still, taking in the scene before him; he was in shock. Cam shifted his aim towards his new target.
‘In,’ he said. Doug did not move. ‘Get inside!’ Cam said more forcefully.
‘Do as he says, Doug,’ said Bell.
He did as he was told, still staring at what was happening.
‘Shut the door.’
He followed the order and then, in what seemed to be an act of blind panic, lunged towards the large wooden desk that Bell had been working at. Thump, Thump, Thump! Cam let off a series of well-aimed shots as the man dived across the room.
‘Argghh!’ screamed Roberts as he crumpled to the floor behind the desk. Cam raised his right hand and with all his might brought the pistol grip down on the back of Bell’s head. He was out cold. Cam next walked over to the desk to reveal an injured man frantically pressing a hidden button under the desk. ‘Shit! A panic alarm.’
Thump, thump. Two more shots ripped into Roberts’ thighs and he screamed in agony. Cam grabbed a roll of tape from the desk and began wrapping it round Roberts’ mouth, muffling his cries. He then dragged him by the hair over to the unconscious Bell. Pulling some zip ties from his trouser pockets he began tying their hands behind their backs.
It was only now he felt the pain on the side of his head. With the back of his pistol hand he felt the wound. When he brought his hand away he saw the blood – not much, but he could have done without this. Feeling anger to be in this situation he leaned over and slapped Bell about the face until he came round. He looked up, squinting with the pain in the back of his head.
‘What does that button do?’ The two men sat in silence. ‘Well?’ Still nothing. ‘OK, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to tell me what you guys have planned for your two brainwashed morons down there. Or you are going to die, right here, right now.’ He looked at the two men, then when there was no response he levelled his pistol between Roberts’ eyes. ‘You have ten seconds.’
‘Don’t move!’ A shout rang out almost immediately after the door was kicked in, with such force it slammed against the wall, shattering the glass. In the doorway stood a police officer, armed and aiming at Cam.
‘Sir,’ said Cam, as he slowly raised his arms. He had no choice but to enlist the help of the CNC officer. ‘I am a government agent; I am here because we have reason to believe these two men are involved in terrorist activities. There are two more and I could use your help in apprehending them.’
‘Do you have any ID?’ replied the officer.
‘No.’
‘Do you have any proof?’
‘Nothing I could show you.’
‘How can I believe you?’
‘You probably shouldn’t – however, they are behind the failed attack on St James’ shopping centre and are planning something else similar. You have a real chance to make a difference to national security here.’
There was a long silence – a very long silence.
‘OK, what’s happened and what do we need to do?’ The police officer lowered his weapon and approached Cam.
‘We’ve had these two under surveillance for some time now and there are two more: Phil Reilly and Steve Palmer. I could use them both up here. Can you organise that?’
‘Yeah, no problem. Is he all right?’ The police officer pointed at Roberts.
‘He’ll be fine,’ lied Cam.
As Cam looked down at Roberts, he felt a huge weight smash down on the back of his neck. He fell to the ground; his vision blurred and fizzed like an old black-and-white television. From his hands and knees he shook his head trying to gain back some control. ‘What the hell was that?’ he thought as he looked up to see the fist of the police officer inches away from his face.
Chapter 27
‘Good work, James, get me out of these.’
Cam groaned and rolled around on the floor. He drifted in and out of consciousness.
‘Who the hell is this guy?… There must be more of them!… Calm down, we’re still in control!… Get everyone up here! Go! … What about him?… Next door, tie him up.’
Cam woke; he was handcuffed behind his back and sat on some kind of desk chair.
‘He’s awake, Sir.’
Looking around through a splitting headache, Cam saw all four of his targets – plus the one new one. Roberts was slumped in the corner of the room, which was an abandoned office. He didn’t look too good, there was a lot of blood pooling around him and he looked grey and lifeless.
‘James, go to work on this guy. When we get back I will want answers out of him.’ On that, three of the men left.
Only the new individual and the now probably dead Roberts remained.
‘Well, well, well. We are gonna have some fun now,’ said James. Whack. He punched Cam hard in the face. Whack – again and again. Cam’s head buzzed. He spat out some blood as his attacker lifted his foot and slammed it into Cam’s chest, sending the wheeled chair skidding across the room and colliding against the wall. Cam’s head bashed against the bricks. Again and again, James rained down punches on the helpless Cam. He had no idea how much more he could take. Then, just before he could bear no more, the assault stopped and he lowered his face to the bloody mess of Cam’s head.
‘You wait here, I’ve got an idea.’ With that he opened the door, saying, ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’
Alone in the room, apart from Roberts’ lifeless body, he struggled to stay conscious. He resisted the urge to drift into the pleasant place where your body refuses to know or acknowledge what’s happening to it. His eyes stung with sweat and blood as he sought a way out of his predicament. It hurt to raise his head, but he had no choice, he had no idea how long he had before James got back.
The new room he found himself in appeared to be unoccupied – they must have moved him while he was unconscious, it still, however, had the left-over furniture and stationery of the previous occupant. Cam rolled his chair backwards over to the cluttered desk, crashing into it and further rattling his head. Gritting his teeth and clenching his stomach muscles, he leaned forward, trying to lift his weight out of the chair. After a few attempts he managed to get to his feet. The chair he was handcuffed to dangled from his wrists as he felt around behind his back to as much of the table as he could reach.
He found a pen and removed the lid. He examined it with his fingers. ‘That’ll do.’ He collapsed back on the chair. He bent back the metal clip of the lid, back and forward, back and forward until it snapped from the lid, which he dropped to the floor. He tried to feel the handcuffs that held his hands behind his back. With the pen-lid clip in between the finger and thumb of his right hand, he found the teeth and locking mechanism that was tight around his wrist. If he had been awake when they were placed he would have forced his wrists towards the person applying them. That way they would have been tightened around his forearms rather than his wrists, giving more room to play with – but he didn’t have that luxury.
He inserted the flat metal shim between the teeth and the locking mechanism; the handcuffs slid open. Now free, Cam leaned forward and fell to the floor. He propped himself up against the wooden desk leg and removed his other wrist from the cuffs. Cam sat and tried to collect his thoughts; he had to resist the urge to wipe the blood from his face and out of his eyes. He had to look the same as when James left.
* * * * * * *
‘You look pathetic,’ James said, as he walked back into the room. Cam hoped he wouldn’t see any change in his posture. With blood still covering his face, he burbled a few incomprehensible words.
‘I’ve got a treat for you,’ he said as he flicked open an extendable metal police baton. ‘They’re going to be back in a minute, but before that, I’m going to break every bone in your body.’ The man sounded like he was e
njoying himself just a little too much. ‘This,’ he said as he lifted Cam’s chin with the baton, ‘is what we call the bone-cruncher.’
Cam slowly opened his eyes to look directly into the face of his new enemy. The two men made eye contact and Cam could tell the man was a true psychopath; he seemed to be relishing in the brutality of the situation.
James straightened up and drew in a breath with closed eyes. It seemed to Cam that he was getting a thrill from this. He looked down and raised his baton – but before he had a chance to inflict any more injuries, Cam lifted his foot and sent it crashing into James’ knee. Cam heard the sound of bone cracking, followed by a loud scream as James fell to the ground in agony. Cam stood up, free from his shackles, and stood down hard on James’ wrist, securing his weapon to the ground. As he bent down to take the baton from his hand he saw the injury to his knee, it was bent forward at a very unnatural angle.
‘That looks sore,’ he whispered into his ear.
Now Cam was in control – but he was still short of time. James writhed around on the floor as the baton smashed into the back of his skull. Confident he had inflicted a fatal blow, Cam stepped away from the shaking body. He walked backwards to where Roberts’ grey body laid slumped in the corner. Checking his pulse he confirmed he was dead – he had bled out where he was left. Returning his focus to the officer, he saw that he was in the final death throes, shaking outstretched on the floor, head and back arched, his arms by his sides, fists clenched and extending away from his body. ‘Decerebrate posturing – that’s about it for him,’ Cam thought as he placed the baton in Doug Roberts’ lifeless hand.
Now he had to find the other three. Not knowing where his own pistol was, he would have to make do with the one James had hit him over the head with. He found it still in his holster; he pulled it out and also took the spare magazine. The police officer had stopped shaking. He opened the door and looked down the corridor. From his position he saw he had been moved to the office next to Bell’s. Listening hard for the others he heard nothing.
The whole place seemed to be deserted. He had more time than he had expected. He ducked back into the room with the bodies. Cam went into the en suite bathroom of the deserted office, picked up a small face-cloth and began to clean himself up. The warm water stung his wounds as he washed his face in the sink. Once he was as clean as he could get himself, he looked into the mirror at his bruised and battered face.
‘I look like shit,’ he said, as he cracked his neck off to one side. He wiped up the sink to leave as little trace as possible that he was there, then stuffed the face cloth into his pocket.
* * * * * * *
Leaning with both hands on the edge of the sink he heard the sound of someone walking over broken glass. ‘That’s Bell’s office,’ he thought. He immediately left the bathroom. Back at the door he again had a good look both ways down the corridor. There was definite movement in Bell’s office. Cam quietly shut the door, hiding the bodies, and silently crept to the smashed glass door of Bell’s office.
Wanting to keep the element of surprise, he was not going to peek through into the room – the last thing he wanted was to be spotted. He was just going to have to go for it; hopefully they would not be expecting anything. As far as they knew he was being beaten next door.
‘You, over there!’ He motioned for one of the men whom he recognised as Palmer to move over to the two-seat sofa in the corner of the room. He had caught the two men by surprise. ‘You, still!’ He ordered Bell not to move as he approached Palmer. Both men had their hands in the air as Cam picked up one of the sofa cushions; he pushed it into Palmer’s face. He raised the police officer’s Glock pistol. A muffled bang threw Palmer against the far wall and he slid down dead to the floor. A cloud of feathers fluttered down and covered the body. Cam turned his attention to Bell – who was now looking terrified. He had him exactly how he wanted him; ready to talk.
‘Where’s Reilly?’
Bell’s eyes darted around the room, looking for any way out of this situation. ‘Look at me.’ Cam said calmly. ‘I’ll ask you again. Where is Reilly?’ Bell remained silent. Cam stepped up to him and jammed the pistol into the side of his head. Bell closed his eyes and dropped his arms slightly in an attempt to protect his head. ‘Where is Reilly?’ Cam demanded.
‘On his way to reactor control room one.’ The fast response was almost automatic. Bell had not wanted to say anything; it was simply a natural self-defence response.
‘Why?’
Bell thought for a second. ‘You’re too late. In a few minutes half of Scotland and the North of England will be uninhabitable. You fucked my plans up; I’m gonna fuck you up.’
Those were Bell’s last words. The bullet ripped through his head and he went limp and fell to the floor.
In a second Cam was up and running. He grabbed his rucksack that he spotted lying on a table in the office and swung it on his back as he moved. He had no time at all. Corridor after corridor he bashed his way through doors, trying to get back outside. As he moved he fished in his pocket for his phone, he found it and quickly tapped in his code. The map of Torness appeared on the screen. He had left the document open in case he needed to check it. As he ran out into the fresh air he slid into his ear the Bluetooth earpiece Al had given him.
‘Give me a sit rep,’ said Al.
‘Targets eliminated except one. Reilly is about to destroy reactor one. I’m en route now.’
‘We have you on screen now; do you know where you’re going?’
‘I have a map on the phone, should be there in a few minutes.’
‘Put your phone away. I’ll relay directions in real time, you prep yourself, OK?’
‘Yeah, OK,’ panted Cam. He was starting to tire.
‘Left, left,’ instructed Al. Cam bore left, pushing himself to go faster and faster. The nuclear power station had only on a skeleton crew at that time of night. All he had to do was make sure he didn’t run into any police patrols.
He knew he was running past many cameras, but he had no choice, the station was about to be destroyed and only he could prevent it.
‘Go right here, Cam and there’s a door about thirty metres ahead.’
‘Shit, there’s a code, Al, there’s a code!’ Cam wheezed. He was out of breath.
‘Wait, wait.’
Cam waited for what seemed like forever.
‘Well! What do I do?’
‘4, 7, 2, 7, 2.’
Cam punched in the code and the door bleeped. He opened it.
‘Shit, Al, there’s people in here!’ Cam slipped into the shadows. He looked around the open spaced room. It was about the size of an aircraft hanger and lit with bright neon lights, but there were many dark shadows; the light was blocked by tables, large banks of machinery and structural pillars. Above him there were walkways; Cam could see at least one man up there. This was not good; he would have to stay out of that guy’s view.
‘How many?’ Al asked.
‘Three or four,’ whispered Cam. ‘They’re just milling about. I’m moving in.’
Cam sneaked forward, following the walls. He kept to the shadows as he looked up, keeping an eye on his main threat.
‘I’m working on something here; it might give you an edge.’
Cam did not reply – he needed to stay quiet. He’s in here somewhere. He continued further into the reactor control room. He stayed low and trod quietly. He passed a lone worker checking on some machinery; he was only feet away from him but passed unnoticed. He stopped for a moment to rest the thighs he had been exerting so much as he crept through the shadows.
‘Cam, got it! This might help you out.’ With that, out went the lights. Cam remained still in the now pitch-black hanger, listening to the commotion that the sudden blackout has caused.
‘That’s good,’ Cam said as he fished out his
night vision goggles. ‘They’re preoccupied. I’m searching for Reilly.’
The hanger lit up in a green and black haze. Cam could see perfectly. The shouting workers were trying frantically to restore the lighting system. They now had torches and he could see the beams of light flashing around. This was good; Cam could keep track of all of them that way. Cam walked around freely – he was almost invisible. He snaked his way left and right between the computer banks, looking for Reilly.
‘You have to hurry, this blackout won’t last forever.’
‘It’s a big room, Al,’ Cam said quietly, still hunting for his last target.
The green glow of the night vision goggles revealed row after empty row between the tables and cabinets. Cam decided to stop and listen; he turned off his NVGs. That stopped the high-pitched whine but also, without sight, his other senses were heightened. He slowly looked round, trying to detect the very slight sound that he now had picked up. Slowly moving in the direction of the sound, it turned into heavy breathing. He could hear mumbling, like someone talking to themselves.
Cam was now as close as he could be to the sound without giving himself away. Cam flicked on his night vision and with a growing green glow he saw a man crouched in a gap between a set of filing cabinets. After a couple more steps he stopped and levelled his gun at the hunched figure.
‘Reilly!’ he whispered. With a gasp, Reilly looked up towards the hidden source of the voice.
‘Who’s there? Is that you, Sir?’
Cam could now see what he was cradling in his arms. It was another suicide vest, similar to the one Brant used in the St James job.
‘You’re too late, Reilly, it’s over. Give me the device.’ Reilly hunted frantically for the trigger. ‘He’s going to do it!’ He couldn’t shoot; the un-silenced pistol would bring everyone down on him, but there was no way he could allow the device to be detonated.
He stepped forward out of the shadows and into Reilly’s view.
‘Who are you?’ Reilly asked, as he gripped the string toggle that would cause the vest to explode. ‘I’ll do it! I’ll do it!’ he growled at Cam.
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