Seven of Swords (The Seventh Wave Trilogy Book 3)

by Lewis Hastings

  “Nice psychological games, Mr Roberts. But you see, prison does not scare me. Within a week, I would be in control of the wing. My reputation is greater than you would know. But what would you know about a reputation, Jason? You have achieved so little in your pathetic life. A slave to the government, earning a pittance, whilst I live like a king. Oh, I almost forgot, Constantin just asked me to send his best wishes. He asks how your arm is.”

  “Strong enough to punch him in the throat.”

  “Ah, that’s better now we are on the same…singing sheet.”

  “It’s a hymn. And in your case, Mr Bloody Jackdaw, it’s a song for your funeral. And I’ll be there, behind closed doors, where none of your beloved people can join in. I know that will hurt you more than anything else.”

  “Jason, I would love to talk more, I really would, but I have a job to finish. I do hope you and your loved ones can swim. Ciao.”

  Roberts looked at John Daniel.

  “So the intelligence is correct, John? He’s going to flood the bloody place.”

  “Makes no sense. He has nothing to gain. He’s made no demands.”

  “Not yet, anyway. Any sign of Jack?”

  “Negative. Nothing. We’ve got our people in as many places as we can put them. Hewett is on the way too. And I’ve rung the Commissioner. He seems happy to stay in the office and wait for the result.”

  “At least he won’t drown on the eighth floor.”

  “Are you ready, my friend?”

  “Do I look ready?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  “Good, then neither do you. Let’s go and kick some arse, shall we?”

  McGee held back, watching. Her new partner was driving. It gave her chance to think.

  “If we get one opportunity to wipe that smile off his smug face, I want to do it. You can look the other way.”

  “Is that what Nick would have wanted, boss?”

  “You bet he would. Tuck in tight, run the light, but don’t be too obvious. I do not want to lose him.”

  The first of the two Barrier Ops Room team entered the corridor system. He could hear the hydraulic systems hissing, pushing tons of steel, pumping water from somewhere in the vast building. It spooked him. He kept moving. A lamb to the slaughter.

  McCall had the T-shirt. It said, ‘Been there. Done that.’

  He also had the feeling that others would come for him or to recover Stefan. He had seen the cameras. So instead of moving, he waited. Hunkered down, put the Glock back into the holster on his belt.

  They called him Mack for a reason.

  The amateur boy they sent to do a man’s job came around the corner, gun at full reach, just like he’d seen on the television. Fool.

  McCall saw the gun before its owner, and that was all he needed to enable him to strike. He moved forward, grabbed the pistol, fingers around the breach and twisted it violently. The would-be killer’s wrists snapped with a resounding crack. He was as good as useless now.

  McCall led with the favoured knife in his left hand. The blade, which was always wickedly sharp, sliced through the man’s neck, into his windpipe, then slit upwards and out. It took seconds.

  One movement. One less pursuer. All as quiet as a barn owl hunting a terrified mouse in a darkened outbuilding.

  The second man was close by, but did not hear a thing. In the time he needed to cover the distance between two of the main piers, McCall was ready once more.

  “Come to papa.”

  In a dry, secure and warm office the Home Secretary dictated a letter. She was on the second paragraph when her desk phone rang. She held a hand up to the executive assistant.

  “Hello.”

  “Madame Home Secretary. We do not know each other. But please, do not hang up. I am helping your people – at Orion. My name, for the benefit of this conversation, is Romulus. Can we speak?”

  The voice was laced with a Russian accent. Perhaps further south. She couldn’t quite pick it.

  “We can.” She was tactfully hesitant, but enough for Valentin to notice the change.

  Lane waved to her EA. Then mouthed ‘Record this!’

  He continued. “Good. Thank you. Jack has been meeting me, he has been tasking me with work. Jack and I understand each other.”

  “OK, and how does this affect me?”

  “Jack asked me to…look at one of your colleagues. Let us call him Judas.”

  Lane’s shoulders rolled forwards. She sighed.

  “Yes?”

  “For the benefit of this conversation, he is called Sancus.”

  “Lots of Greek gods, I see.”

  “Roman. He was God of Trust. But that does not matter. You to stop doing what you are doing and read the email in your inbox. No need to contact me. Jack can do that. I owed your people a debt of gratitude. You keep your side of the bargain and finish off the people that have destroyed my country’s reputation.”

  “OK, I will read the email but I cannot promise…” She paused. He had gone.

  “Bastard hung up on me, Thomas!”

  “Perhaps read the email Ma’am?” Succinct, edged with candour.

  She did. And in seconds she was marching along a corridor, cell phone in hand.

  “Prime Minister, we need to meet. Now.”

  “He’s what?” James Cole was incredulous. “I can’t stand the bloody man Sassy, you know that, but he’s damned good at his job.” He paced, matching the awful pattern on his red and yellow carpet. “No, I refuse to believe this. Get him here. Now.”

  “I tried, Jim. He’s gone off the radar. Blake, too. And meanwhile the storm is causing havoc.”

  “Thank God for the barrier.”

  The river was rising fast; the surge was powering along the estuary, towards the city. All that stood between it and physical and financial chaos was the series of gates and a large helping of providence.

  All the gates were closed.

  The Port of London Authority was monitoring the flow and demanding to know why the barrier team was not answering their calls.

  “Get someone down there.” He slipped his coat on.

  “Sir, something has been bothering me.”

  “Go on, but make it quick.” Zipped it up.

  “The radio operator at the barrier said ‘thank you PAL.’”

  “And?” Paused.

  “He speaks to us every day, sir. He never gets it wrong.”

  “So what exactly are you saying?” Impatient.

  “I think it was a distress signal. Something’s very wrong down there. They have activated the system under urgency. The gates are in place, in fifteen minutes. It’s unheard of.”

  “And so is this bloody storm.”

  “You are missing the point, boss. I think there is more to this.”

  “Then so do I, lad. Ring the police. I’m on my way.”

  Alex and Constantin were where they needed to be. They opened the solid door and stepped out into the freezing winter air. It took their breath away. The sheer scale of the barrier added to the moment. Above them a huge silver hood, watching over the river, supported by twin yellow hydraulic arms, leviathans, both there in case its twin failed. Electronic back-up systems were in place. Fail-safe.

  They could hear the flooded river pounding against the gates. The noise surprised them both. In normal operations, the team would allow some of the flood to pass underneath the gates, reducing the impact. But the speed at which it was deployed had sent a rebound wave, back along the river, finishing off what damage had already been caused.

  “Come on, this way.” Constantin was now leading. They reached the spot. “In there.”

  “What? Why? You know I hate small spaces. Why there?” At last, something he feared.

  “And I hate them too. More than you. But it seemed like the logical place to hide them.”

  “Logical? Logical is a bank vault and look how much time we wasted trying to get into that place! I forgave you Constantin, but this is worse. Do you actually know the
y are still in there? Look at it. It is like a washing machine in there. If you have let me down…” He gestured to the entrance.

  “Alex, I can’t go in there. I will panic and die. You know what prison did to me.”

  “Fine. Then you are not the man I thought you were. Did I not spend time in prison, alone, strapped to a bed, lying in my own shit for days? Here, hold this.” He handed the iPhone to his uncle. “We will talk about this later. Do not drop that.”

  He climbed into the void, through the steel railings. The sheer scale of the thing was breath-taking. The river water stank, poured out from the cavernous inner element of the gate, litre after litre. He was soaked in seconds. Inside, partially submerged, it was dark, on a winter’s day when daylight was already scarce.

  He waded through the receding waters, then yelled, “Where? Where is it?”

  “Inside. That is all they told me. Tied to the gate. It’s there, yes?”

  “I need light. It’s so dark in here.”

  “I only have the phone.”

  Alex’s knuckles whitened. He needed to deal with Constantin, but that would wait. “Then pass it to me. Now!”

  Constantin turned on the small yet powerful light, then reached into the cavern.

  Alex waved the phone, looking for the case. He slipped, steadied himself, then searched again.

  “Where is it?” he was beginning to panic. The Jackdaw was to use one of Roberts’ favourite sayings, suddenly on a level playing field with everyone else in the City of London.

  He reached out, trying to cover ground quickly. The gate was immense. He felt like a Lilliputian, insignificant and suddenly very vulnerable.

  Then he dropped the phone.

  The silver Jaguar came to a halt. Across the river, south of the city. The wiper blades quietly swept the rain from the tinted windscreen, affording Halford a clear view. Better to be south of the action, away from the chaos and subsequent inquiry.

  ‘Me, Prime Minister? I was visiting a police station, to see how the troops were holding up in the storm…when all hell broke loose…’

  Keep your friends close.

  “Great view. We are watching history today. When I give the signal, you need to head south, get away from the city, we won’t have long.”

  He ran his hand across what for him was the Holy Grail. And he smiled. He had allowed himself to be corrupted. And that came at a cost.

  Constantin shouted into the gate. “Are you OK?”

  The noise was increasing around them. A roar. Sheer power and none of it manmade.

  “No, I am not. I have dropped the damned phone. I need to find it. Get in here and help me or I will drown you with my own hands.”

  Constantin cautiously climbed through the grid and into the half-light.

  “Alex. I need to tell you something.”

  Halford needed to time his next move to perfection. He knew he had control. Getting it right meant he could put his feet up, retirement by the poolside on the French Riviera and entertain women and drink the finest champagne and enjoy the feeling of being untouchable.

  He made the call.

  The water had risen faster than in history. Calls from concerned locals had now reached the emergency services. Boat owners, apartment dwellers, they had all seen the surge, and many assumed the authorities would respond as they always did. Those with a view watched the barrier gates appear out of the river in record time. It was OK. No need to call after all.

  Those that had called were assured by the call takers that everything was fine. But in truth, they hadn’t got a clue.

  Chapter 62

  “We need to alert everyone, Sassy. If those waters breach the barrier the city will come to a halt. The cost will be catastrophic.”

  “We can’t. We’ll lose more than that if we announce what we have known for weeks, Christ, we’ve technically known for longer. And to add insult to injury, if we release that we knew about the documents and their potential impact, then the party will go under with the city. I predict a riot at best. God only knows what the opposition will make of it.”

  “Bugger the party Sassy, bugger the bloody opposition too, think of the people. Christ, this is a bloody disaster. Get the key staff to Whitehall now, I want COBRA up and running in ten. No excuses.”

  The look said it all. Friend or no friend, Cole was a man on the back foot after years at the helm.

  Politics was a cruel mistress at times.

  The junior staffer at the newspaper took the call.

  His screen showed Number Withheld.

  “Listen, do not interrupt. You took a call earlier. Now I am going to add to it. This will sell more papers than you can print. Go live with this at two o’clock today. Not a minute before.” The caller outlined what he wanted them to print. It was damning. It was unbelievable. It was sensational. And, if it was real, then the reality was worse than anything they could have dreamt up.

  The caller hung up, removed the SIM card and dropped the phone into the river. He walked back to the car.

  “It’s done.”

  Cade and his two team members arrived at the barrier.

  “Jesus, this is bigger than I realised. How are we going to search it?”

  “We’ve got people inside already, Jack.” Francis looked sheepish.

  “OK, then that’s fine. Who?”

  “McCall and Stefanescu.”

  “Great, a soldier of fortune and a reformed bloody criminal. Any good news?”

  “The boss is on the way here too – he’s with JD.”

  “Right, so we all just sit here with our fingers up our arses and wait, do we?”

  “We could do what she’s doing, Jack.” Francis pointed across the car park to where he could see Elena and a guilty-looking detective trying to climb the perimeter fence.

  Cade smiled, shuddered as the cold wind wrapped itself around him like winter ivy. “Trust me, if she thinks there is a way in, then there is. Come on. She’ll find her own way. She can handle herself.”

  A split second mental picture of her diving off the Black Marlin into the clear turquoise waters of the Pacific flashed through his mind. He’d give anything to be back there. With her.

  The three ran across the car park and were met by a ruddy-faced Yorkshireman who was weeks from retirement. He had a PLA yellow jacket on and a look that said ‘not today.’

  “Who the hell are you? State your business here or I’ll call the police.”

  “We are the bloody police. Let us into the building or things are going to get really messy.” O’Shea was holding up her ID and a look that more than matched the man from Leeds.

  “Messy? A bit bloody late for messy! ‘Ave you seen the amount of water that’s ‘itting them gates lass? We need to think about reducing the impact. Someone ‘as to get into the Ops Room and reduce the pressure. There’s hundreds of thousands of tons of river ‘itting that system and it won’t survive long. I’ll come with you. God only knows where the staff are.”

  “If our theory is correct, then they are being held.”

  “Fuck me backwards, that’s all I need today. Terrorists?”

  “Can’t say. And if you do, you can watch your pension wash away with those flood waters.”

  “So it’s terrorists then? Just bloody marvellous.”

  “Not as you would know them, no. Now move before I shoot you.”

  They got to the Ops Room without incident. Cade took one look and bore an expression that said ‘I told you so.’

  The team were released from their shackles, a few gave first aid to their colleagues whilst a groggy Andrew Darkin tried to offer advice. He spoke quickly and mainly to the Yorkshireman, as he knew him and knew he’d understand the dilemma.

  “They’ve done something to the controls. Not physical, a software add-on, I don’t know, but I know we can’t override. There were four of them. The leader had jet black hair, laughed like a…”

  “Jackdaw?”

  “Yeah, just like that. Who is he? I
’d love to meet him in a dark alley.”

  “You and me both. He’s a man who I have come to hate Mr Darkin. Look, can we raise and lower the gates any other way?”

  “Yes, manually, but it’s a tough job, especially in these conditions. But why do you want to lower them?”

  “I don’t but there is someone who might.”

  “That’s madness. Suicide. The city…”

  “Will drown. Get me to the place where I need to be.”

  “You don’t understand, we need more people. There is a separate system to manually control each gate.”

  “Then we can only pray, my friend. Stay here. try to regain control.”

  Cade shook his hand and walked outside and looked along the building.

  “Penny for them?”

  “Carrie. This place is vast. He could be anywhere in here. With no CCTV and a lack of specially trained staff we are struggling. This needs to go public. I’m sick of the cloak of secrecy.”

  “You heard what the minister said. If we go public, there will be civil unrest, commotion, panic.”

  “And if we don’t?”

  “Answer D. All of the above.”

  Elena was over the fence. Having used her coat as a barrier against the razor wire she had dropped at least twice the height of her body, landed, rolled forward and was back up on her feet and moving quickly.

  The detective stood on the legal side halfway up the fence, shaking his head. He rang Roberts.

  “Guv, I’m not sure how to explain this, but Miss Elena has just scaled the security fence at the…”

  “Thames Barrier. Yes, thanks, I can see for myself. Where was she going?”

  “That’s the weird bit, guv. She was rambling on about her old man.”

  “Her father?”

  “Last time I looked, that’s what it meant boss.”

  “And?”

  “Said she needed to say something to him. Somehow she knows he’s here.” The young investigator hung up when he saw Roberts approaching him on foot.