“If we last that long!” yelled Acton. “Brake!”
Laura stomped on the brakes as a large plume of fire and smoke left the side of the chopper. They came to a stop so fast the missile overshot them and hit another car down the road. Laura propelled the car forward again, steering around the debris strewn on the road. The chopper had started to turn around again when she began to overtake him.
“Try to stay under him!” yelled Reading.
Laura looked up and slowed down, positioning herself almost directly under the chopper. As the chopper’s nose slowly pointed down toward them, it couldn’t help but have forward momentum and she let it get ahead of them.
“Jesus Christ!” exclaimed Stucco. “What the hell is he doing?” Stucco had had a hell of a time keeping up with the target, their SUV no match for her Porsche, but the couple of times he had lost her, the GPS tracker hadn’t let her get far. Now he was dodging stopped cars and the torn up road caused by the Apache’s bullets.
“I have no idea!” Casey triggered his radio. “Bravo Command, Bravo Six. Do you know what Bravo One is doing? Over.”
“Bravo Six, Bravo Command, maintain radio silence until otherwise notified, out.”
“Shit! They ordered radio silence!” Casey punched the dash as they passed a rig that was on fire, its driver sitting on the embankment, holding his head in shock. “Have you ever worked with this guy before?”
“No, not until today.”
“Something tells me we won’t be tomorrow!”
“Get me the Home Office!” ordered the head dispatcher. At first he hadn’t believed what he was hearing on the 999 call, but when the traffic cameras showed explosions along the M1 he was quickly convinced. A moment later he was connected.
“This is London Central Dispatch. We have reports of an armed military helicopter shooting civilian vehicles on the M1. We require immediate assistance!”
“An armed military helicopter? In London? Did you just get back from the pub, lad?” said the voice in disbelief.
“Listen, I’ve got at least half a dozen vehicles in flames on the M1 and a DCI who says the helicopter is after him and under the control of terrorists!”
The reply was dead serious. “One moment.”
Niner ran into Red’s hospital room. “Red, Big Dog’s gone whack!”
“What?” Red struggled to get out of his bed. “What’s going on?”
“He’s shootin’ the shit out of everything on the highway!”
“Get me a damned wheelchair!” ordered Red as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Niner grabbed one from the hall, helped Red in, then pushed him toward the communications center. “Faster!”
The Home Office Operator hit the keypad in front of him and was connected immediately with the duty officer. “We have a report from central dispatch that there is terrorist activity on the northbound M1 motorway involving an armed military helicopter.”
“Reliability assessment?” asked the Duty Officer.
“High, sir. Visual confirmation of several vehicles on fire and a report from a DCI on the scene.”
“Okay, out.”
The Duty Officer called the Home Secretary’s office. The line was immediately answered.
“We have confirmation of a rogue armed helicopter operating on the northbound M1, request immediate tasking of an Overlord aircraft.”
“Assessment?”
“High, visual confirmation and independent non-civilian confirmation,” replied the Duty Officer. “Apparently an armed military helicopter firing on civilian vehicles.”
“Stand by.”
By the time Red and Niner reached the communications center the rest of the team was gathered, listening to the comm chatter and watching the visuals from the Apache’s camera.
“Oh my God!” exclaimed Jimmy as they watched the cannon chew up half a lane, the Porsche dodging the bullets.
“Report!” Red ordered as Niner rolled him up to the communications gear.
“BD’s gone nuts! He’s shootin’ up half the damned city!” explained Jimmy.
Red put the headset on. “Bravo One, Bravo Two, come in, over.” There was no response. “BD, it’s Red. Talk to me!”
“A little busy right now!” came the voice over the gear.
“Listen buddy, is this really necessary?” asked Red, trying to calm his friend down. “Think about what you’re doing.”
“I’m under orders from Control, you know that! You know what will happen if I don’t complete this mission, now I want radio silence!”
“Get me the Duty Fighter Controller,” said the Home Office Operator.
“Wing Commander Talbot here,” said the tired voice.
“Sir, this is the Home Office Security Operator. We have dual confirmation of a terrorist attack in progress involving an armed military helicopter. It’s firing on civilian vehicles northbound on the M1 motorway.”
“Reliable?”
“Yes, sir, visual and independent non-civilian confirmation.”
“Okay, I’ll take it from here.”
Talbot ran out of his office and down the hallway into the situation room. “Who’s up right now?”
“Overlords One and Two have just taken over from Three and Four,” was the controller’s reply.
“Who’s closest to the M1?”
“Two, sir,” replied the Intercept Controller.
“Get him for me,” ordered Talbot, grabbing a headset and plugging into the controller’s communications gear.
“Overlord Two this is London Mil, come in, over.”
“London Mil this is Overlord Two, over.”
“Overlord Two, this is Wing Commander Talbot. You have new orders, over.”
“Roger that London Mil, awaiting authentication, over.”
“Overlord Two, your authentication is Zulu Kilo Bravo Niner Five Seven Execute, confirm, over,” said Talbot, reading today’s code off a key card he’d never dreamed he would have to use.
“London Mil, this is Overlord Two, confirming authentication code Zulu Kilo Bravo Niner Five Seven Execute. What are your orders, over?”
“There is an unauthorized military helicopter on the northbound M1 that is believed to be under the control of unknown hostile agents. You are to make contact if possible and neutralize if necessary. Designate target Tango One, over.”
“London Mil this is Overlord Two, acknowledging new orders and heading to target. ETA sixty seconds, over.”
The cat and mouse game his target was trying to play below him was starting to piss Dawson off. He had created the spectacular scene the President wanted. Now it was time to end this thing before any more bystanders got killed, but he needed them out of the damned car. After about a minute of aborted turns as the car tried to stay behind him, he finally pulled back on the stick and banked, moving back a few hundred yards. He could see the car accelerate forward again, its little trick no longer working.
Suddenly he heard something coming in over his radio. “Overlord Two to unidentified helicopter located over the M1, identify yourself immediately, over.”
Shit! Dawson pushed the stick forward again and accelerated toward his target, firing his cannons the entire time. He cursed again as the bullets missed the engine compartment, remembering he had turned off his automatic targeting so he could give the President his “spectacular” event.
“Overlord Two to unidentified helicopter, cease fire immediately or I will be forced to open fire.”
Dawson looked at his radar display to see where the aircraft was, but couldn’t find it. He redirected his attention to his target and launched two Hellfire missiles at the road ahead of them. He knew he was too close to acquire a true lock with these older missiles, but he also knew he didn’t have much time left. At that exact moment the Tornado fighter flew directly over him, missing the helicopter by less than ten feet, the backwash from the engines shoving the helicopter toward the ground and backward, leaving Dawson struggling to regain control.
> “Right!”
Laura dutifully swerved the car again, but the missiles turned to follow. Acton was about to say a silent prayer when he saw the helicopter lose control and the missiles collapse into the pavement. The resultant explosion sent a rush of hot air over their heads. They all ducked.
“What the hell was that?” cried Laura.
“That, Professor, was a goddamned Tornado fighter!” cheered Reading. “I never thought I’d be so happy to see a Fly Boy!” They all looked up as the fighter banked sharply to make another pass. Gunfire erupted behind them and Laura swerved, but this time too late. Half a dozen rounds tore through the rear of the car, penetrating the engine compartment and puncturing the rear right tire. Laura fought to control the car as gunfire sprayed around them. She brought the car to a stop as the helicopter flew past them and banked.
Reading leapt out of the backseat and hauled open Laura’s door, yanking her from the cramped cockpit as Acton scrambled out the other side. The three of them ran toward the guardrail just as the helicopter launched two more missiles at the now empty car. It erupted in a huge ball of fire, the resulting shockwave throwing them off their feet.
“Overlord Two to London Mil, preparing to engage Tango One, over,” said the pilot of the Tornado as he completed his turn and reacquired his target.
“Roger that, Overlord Two, over.”
His Heads Up Display reacquired the target, and he waited for tone. “Overlord Two to London Mil, I have a lock, over.”
“London Mil to Overlord Two, you are cleared to fire, over.”
“Roger, London Mil, Foxfire One away!” He selected the air-to-air missile, then launched it. The aircraft rocked slightly as the missile dropped off the wing and fired its liquid propellant, hurtling itself at the target less than a mile away.
Through his infrared display Dawson saw the three figures who had escaped the now-destroyed vehicle, lying on the ground. He watched as they got up and cowered behind a guardrail. He took aim with his cannons, knowing the armored piercing rounds would cut through the metal of the guardrail and shred anything unfortunate enough to be hiding behind it, but held off. He knew if Control was watching he’d see the HUD showing a lock, but he also knew he was seconds away from having an excuse to fail the mission.
His threat alarm went off, confirming his hopes, his display indicating a radar lock from the north.
“Red, are you still there?” asked Dawson as he reactivated the comm.
“Yes, BD, I’m here.”
“Goodbye, my friend.”
He looked over his shoulder and saw the flame from the missile rapidly coming toward him. He jerked up and over on the stick to evade it, knowing it was a futile move, as he reached for the canopy jettison handle.
Acton, Laura, and Reading lay as flat as they could behind the guardrail, watching the helicopter through the periodic holes in the metal. Acton held Laura tight as they silently said their goodbyes to loved ones they would never see again. Then the helicopter banked away from them.
They rose to their knees in shock and watched as a missile streaked by and slammed into the helicopter.
“Get down!” yelled Reading. They all hit the ground and covered their heads as the helicopter ripped apart, its ordnance exploding. The rotors split off from the main assembly, slicing through the air like giant knives directly toward them. As the remains of the helicopter hit the road the Tornado flew over, the wash from the jet warming the entire area. The rotors spun over their heads and dug into the ground a few hundred feet beyond in a farmer’s field, the ground shuddering from the impact.
“Oh my God, the skull!” cried Laura, staring at the burning vehicle.
Acton tapped her on the shoulder. She looked at him as he held up the bag in his hand, grinning. “You didn’t think I’d leave our friend in there, did you?”
The three of them rolled onto their backs and looked up at the sky as the morning sun broke over the horizon. The Tornado made several slow passes overhead as sirens approached from a distance.
“So, how far are we from Coventry?” asked Acton. Reading groaned and Laura hit Acton on the chest. He laughed. “You’re right. I think I’ll just lie here for a while and hurt.”
Stucco and Casey pulled up to the crash site and jumped out of their vehicle, surveying the wreckage. “No one survived that,” said Stucco. They spun toward the sound of laughter behind them and drew their weapons. Following the sound, they approached the guardrail and found their targets lying on the ground. The laughing stopped as soon as they raised their weapons. One reached for a gun.
“We’ll have none of that now,” said Casey as he cocked his weapon.
“Bravo Command, Bravo Three. We have the targets, awaiting instructions, over.” There was silence. “Bravo Command, Bravo Three. Should we eliminate the targets, over?”
Again silence. Then a burst of static. “Bravo Three, Bravo Two. Abort, I say again, abort, over.”
“Roger that, Bravo Three, out.” He turned to Casey. “Let’s go.” They both walked away, still covering the three as they climbed in their vehicle.
“What just happened?” asked Acton, slowly rising to watch the SUV race away.
“I don’t know, but I’m glad it did,” replied Laura.
Reading stood up to see if he could get a tag number, but it was still too dark. “I think we just got a reprieve.”
Acton surveyed the war zone surrounding them. “Yeah, but for how long?”
Coventry, England
Reading turned the unmarked police car into the parking lot of the train station in Coventry. He had refused to let Laura drive again after experiencing her near 200 mile-per-hour driving. It actually wasn’t much of a refusal since she said she didn’t want to drive again for at least a year.
Acton didn’t even offer, saying, “You Brits are crazy, driving on the wrong side of the road!” Reading put the car in neutral and they waited in silence.
They were hours late. The chaos on the M1 had ended long ago, but the extensive questioning had taken quite some time. They had all agreed there would be no mention of the skull or the Triarii. Reading had lied to his fellow officers for the first time in his career. The pit in his stomach told him he was still a good officer. If he hadn’t felt guilty, he would have handed in his warrant card.
Half an hour passed and they had all started to nod off when there was a tap on the driver’s side window. Reading rolled it down.
“Hellooo, I’m from the Coventry Tourist Authority, welcome to our city!” said the old lady. She held out a pamphlet to Reading who took it. “While you’re here, you should visit the ruins of the old cathedral. It’s fifteenth century you know. It was destroyed during the war. The new cathedral was built beside it and opened to the public in 1962. Its spires—”
“Thank you, mum, we will if we have time,” said Reading, cutting off the speech. He rolled up the window and waved to the old lady who slowly made her way around the front of the car. “You should visit the new church too, it has some beautiful relics inside!” Reading smiled and waved again as she moved to the next occupied car and repeated her speech. He tossed the pamphlet into the backseat where Laura was dozing on Acton’s shoulder. I’ll bet those two will be bumpin’ uglies before this day is through. Reading laughed out loud and the two backseat passengers woke out of their stupor.
“What?” asked Acton. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing, sorry. Just a mental image.”
“What’s this?” asked Laura as she saw the flyer that had landed beside her on the seat.
“Oh, just some old lady handing out tourist flyers.”
“Did you look at it?”
“No, I….” Reading reached back and grabbed it from Laura’s hands. He opened it up and saw a map of the new cathedral with an X marked in one of the confessionals and a time. Reading looked at his watch. Five minutes from now. “Shite!”
He put the car in reverse then squealed out of the parking lot, gunning th
e engine toward the cathedral spires just down the road. It whined for a moment before it finally took off. Definitely not a Porsche.
“What’s going on?” asked Acton.
“Just trying to keep an appointment.” Reading guided the car through traffic and three minutes later was at the church. They all jumped out and ran inside. Reading raced down the center aisle trying to remember the order of the sign he was supposed to do, as it had been at least ten years since he had set foot in a church. Spectacles, Testicles, Wallet, Watch! Elated, he ran up to the altar, did a quick sign then ran toward the confessional marked on the map.
Acton and Laura followed behind him, still confused. When they reached the confessional Reading looked at his watch. “We’re on time,” he said breathlessly. “Okay, Professor, this is your show.” He opened the door to the confessional and waved Acton in.
Acton was still puzzled, but when Reading pushed him, he realized this must be where the Triarii wanted to meet them. Reading closed the door behind him. Acton looked around and knelt down. The window separating the two halves of the confessional opened, revealing a screen. He could barely make out who was on the other side.
“Blessed are those who confess their sins,” said the deep voice. “Confess your sins to God and all shall be forgiven.”
Acton shifted awkwardly, suddenly not sure if he was in the right place. “Umm, sorry, Father, but I’m not Catholic so I’ve never done this before.”
“If you are not Catholic, my son, then I cannot pardon your sins, however I can still listen,” replied the voice. Acton was at a loss as to what to say. Finally he decided to hell with it. Well, maybe not hell.
“Are you from the Triarii?”
“And what if I were?”
“Then I have something for you.”
“Then leave it for me and I will take it.”
“I’ll need proof before I leave it.”
“Very well.” Acton heard shuffling on the other side as the priest held a wrist up to the screen to show him the Triarii tattoo. “Is this enough proof for you, my son?”
“Yes it is. Tell me one more thing though before I leave.”
The Protocol (A James Acton Thriller, Book #1) Page 27