Once the food was packed away, she called her daughter and Anne Campbell, telling them it was time to leave. The men had to forgo their goodnight kisses.
The girls left the men to their own devices and headed out into the night without another word. Carl Levine knew he was going to have to work damn hard to make things right, and was working on a mental list of peace offerings when there was a knock on the door. Instinctively he grabbed for the handle of the 9MM automatic pistol which was strapped to the underside of the table but Campbell waved him off.
“It’s just the kid from the next caravan.”
Campbell opened the door. “Hi,” he smiled. “What can I do for you?”
“Is Alice here?” the girl asked, holding up her phone. “She got a text from her boyfriend.”
Campbell was about to say she must be mistaken when Levine joined him in the doorway.
“How did he get your number?” Levine asked, a little too harshly.
“Alice sent him a text,” Melissa said, taking a step backwards. “She said her dad forgot the chargers for the phones, so I let her use mine.”
Levine did his best to keep his anger in check. “When did she send the text?”
“I dunno. Couple of hours ago, maybe.”
Campbell moved past Levine. “The girls have gone out for the evening,” he said, smiling. “If you give me the message I can pass it on to Alice when she gets back.”
Melissa wasn’t too keen on the idea. This was boyfriend-girlfriend stuff — definitely not the kind of thing you shared with parents.
“I think it’s best if I give it to Alice,” she said, and got no objections. Levine wasn’t interested in the content of the message, just the fact that his daughter had disobeyed his instructions.
“No problem. She’ll be back late, but I’ll let her know and she can pop round in the morning.”
Melissa seemed happy with the arrangement and headed back to her own caravan, leaving the men to consider the implications of Alana’s actions.
“What do you reckon?” Campbell asked, once he’d closed the caravan door.
“If it is the government who are looking for us, they’ll have traced either one or both of those text messages, and that means they’ll probably be on their way.”
Campbell agreed. “Let’s grab the girls and go.”
“Not so fast,” Levine said. “We still don’t know for sure that anyone’s actually looking for us. If we run now, we still won’t know. I say we leave the girls where they are, find an OP close by and see if anyone knocks on the door.”
“And if someone does turn up?” Campbell asked.
“Then we’ll know we’re not being paranoid. I say we grab at least one of them and find out what they want.”
“Sounds fine if they send a small team, but what if they bring half the local police with them?”
“I very much doubt it,” Levine said. “If the police were going to be involved, we’d have known about it by now.”
Campbell saw the wisdom in his friend’s words, but he expressed his concerns for the safety of the women. “I’d feel happier if they were out of the area. How about I drive them into the nearest town, park up out of sight and then tab back here?”
Levine asked why the women couldn’t just drive themselves, and Campbell pointed out that they hadn’t had the defensive and evasive driver training the men had been through in the regiment. “If they’re spotted en route, they’ll have no chance. It would also be a good idea to change the plates on the car, and there’s a Ford showroom in town. I can swap the plates from a similar model and that should give us enough time to get to where we’re going.”
“Fair point,” Levine conceded. “Let’s load our gear before we fetch them.”
They grabbed what few belongings they had and stuffed them into holdalls, which went into the boot of the car. Campbell trotted off and was back within ten minutes, the three ladies in tow. Their mood hadn’t changed in the last half hour, and Levine guessed his friend hadn’t yet explained the situation.
“You have to go,” Levine said, opening the door to the car so that his wife could get into the front passenger seat.
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Ask Alana,” Levine said, and glared at his daughter.
“What have I done now?” Alana asked, full of indignation.
“Sam replied to the text message you sent him.”
“But I didn’t use my own phone,” his daughter argued. “You didn’t say anything about using someone else’s.”
There was no time to get into a fight, especially with such a headstrong teenager. “Just get in,” Levine said. “I’ll deal with you later.”
Alana stamped her feet like a five-year-old as she trudged to the car, arms once again folded tightly across her chest. She climbed into the back seat and put her seatbelt on, her face still a picture of fury as she failed to comprehend the seriousness of her indiscretion.
“So what was Sam’s message?” She pouted, and Levine just stared in disbelief. Her life was in danger, yet she was more interested in a how her boyfriend was doing. He knew he would have to have a word about priorities when this was all over.
He turned his attention to his wife and spoke to her through the open window. “Jeff’s going to take you into town. I want you to stay in the car until we come and get you.” He looked over his wife’s shoulder at his daughter. “That means all of you.”
“How long will you be?” Sandra asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe a few hours. Just sit tight until we come and get you.”
“But what if you don’t come? How long should we wait?”
“If we’re not there by six in the morning, just go. Drive north for a few hours and find a town with an internet café, but stay off the main roads. I want you to contact the newspapers, BBC, Sky, anyone. Tell them who you are and what’s happened, and see if you can arrange to meet up to give them the whole story.”
“Why can’t you just come with us?” Anne Campbell pleaded with her husband. “We’re not cut out for this kind of thing.”
“We have to end it tonight,” Jeff said. “If we don’t make a stand, we’ll be on the run forever.”
Anne looked pitiful, but Campbell wasn’t going to be persuaded otherwise.
“You want things to go back to normal, don’t you?”
His wife nodded, and Campbell kissed her on the forehead.
Levine said his own goodbyes and Campbell climbed into the driver seat.
“I’ll be tabbing back over the fields and coming in from the East. See if you can find a suitable observation post while I’m gone.”
Levine nodded and watched as the car drove out of the caravan park and turned left on the country lane, its lights fading quickly. His watch told him it was nudging nine-thirty in the evening, and if anyone was coming to pay them a visit they would be in the area soon, if not already. He ducked into the caravan and turned the lights off. From the window he could see several of the other mobile homes were in darkness, so it wouldn’t look too suspicious.
There were several good spots to set up the OP on the hill off to the north, but rather than just observe his visitors, he wanted to get up close and personal. Confirmation that they were being sought was one thing, but more important was the need to know who they were up against. At the moment they were running from shadows, but once they’d identified their adversary they would at least know the magnitude of the battle they faced.
That was, if anyone actually turned up.
Levine left the caravan and locked the door, then looked round for a suitable place to lie up. The caravan was situated three yards from the four-foot high privet hedge that ran around the perimeter of the camp. Cut into the hedge was a wooden style, a small ladder that granted access to the public footpath in the adjoining field. Levine climbed over, stepping into the darkness.
Off to his right he could just make out the shape of the tent the ladies had been using for the last few da
ys, and it was from that direction that Jeff would make his appearance. Levine turned to his left and followed the hedge, looking for a spot which would allow him a good view of the caravan while also shielding him from sight if anyone wandered too close. The best he could find was a small depression, but the view through the bottom of the hedge was obscured by another caravan, so he retraced his steps and climbed back over the style and into the camp. Even on this side he could find no natural cover, so he would have to settle for squeezing underneath the people carrier parked behind his neighbours’ accommodation.
He tried it out for size, and from the side of the vehicle his vision was obstructed by the gas canisters underneath the adjacent caravan. He adjusted his position, peering out between the front wheels. This was a much better view, allowing him to see the door to his caravan as well as the ten yards leading up to it. The moon was full, but Levine was grateful for the cloud cover which reduced its glare and would help to keep him concealed.
His only worry was if the unwanted guests brought night vision goggles to the party. He knew he couldn’t be seen with the naked eye, but he would stick out like a sore thumb to anyone with NVGs.
With one position sorted, Levine crawled out and headed towards the entrance to the camp. He walked nonchalantly, just another holiday-maker out for a late stroll. He saw a couple of others braving the mild evening, but most of the residents were settled in for the night.
The heavy main gate was attached to concrete posts on either side of the entrance, marking the end of the hedge, but once again there was little to offer in the way of cover. He wandered out into the country lane and looked at the hedgerow on the other side of the road. There would be no reason for anyone to approach the camp from that field, not when they could simply drive up to the gate or park up nearby, so it seemed a sensible enough hiding place. The gate to the field was just ten yards away, and Levine scrambled over it quickly.
The field had been left fallow the previous year, and long grass grew around the edges. This would help to break up his profile should anyone glance his way, and he lay down to see what the view was like. He had to crawl forward a few feet, but eventually he found the perfect spot, one that enabled him to see through the entrance all the way to their caravan.
Levine got up and made his way back to the road, checking both ways to make sure no-one was in the area. The road was clear and he strolled back into the camp, waving to one of the residents as he headed back to the caravan. Inside, he took the rounds from the magazine to let the spring relax while he stripped down his Browning and gave it a thorough clean: the last thing he wanted was the gun jamming on him if he came to need it. It took him just a few minutes to finish the job and once it was reassembled he headed for the style to keep an eye out for Campbell.
Jeff arrived at a trot just after ten-thirty, barely breaking a sweat.
“You took your sweet time.”
“I did some shopping on the way back,” Campbell said, holding out a plastic bag. Levine took it and fished out a pair of Pay-As-You-Go phones.
“I figured we’d need some comms,” Campbell told him. “They were the cheapest I could find, but they come with hands-free kits.”
“Good thinking. Let’s get back inside and charge them up.”
While Campbell cleaned his own weapon, Levine charged the phones, turned the ringtones off and programmed the numbers into each other’s speed-dial facility. He then put ran through the sequence of commands to call the other phone until he knew which buttons to press with his eyes closed. Once he had the combination memorised and he was sure that Campbell had, too, he put electrical tape over the tiny displays so that the light from them wouldn’t be visible when they got an incoming call. Campbell told him they only had twenty pounds of calling credit each, which wouldn’t last forever, especially with mobile-to-mobile calls, so they agreed not to use the phones until the person observing the gate saw some activity.
“How do you think they’ll play this out?” Campbell asked as he reassembled his pistol.
“If they’re morons, they’ll come in all guns blazing,” Levine said. “I doubt we’ll be that lucky, though. I expect they’ll turn up in the dead hours, probably between one and four in the morning.”
Campbell concurred. “We’ll let the phones charge for another hour, then get in position.”
Levine described the locations he’d found and offered to take the spot under the vehicle. At just five feet nine he was the smaller of the two by six inches, and had a slight build compared to Campbell’s bear-like physique. It would be much easier for him to get out quickly when the time came.
“We’ll need knives,” Levine said, and went to the kitchen. In the drawer he found two which would serve their purpose, though their edges were rather dull. He found a honing steel and sat down to sharpen the blades.
They discussed tactics until a few minutes to midnight. By this time the phones both had a charge of over eighty percent, which was plenty for the next few hours.
Levine pulled the corner of the curtain aside and looked out into the camp.
“Clear.”
They left the caravan and Levine locked up before they parted without another word.
* * *
Ben Palmer glanced over at the clock on his bedside table as the monotonous chime of the mobile phone dragged him from his deep sleep.
“Palmer,” he said wearily, wondering what was so urgent that it meant calling at close to one in the morning.
“It’s James,” the voice said. “I was just —”
“Wait.” Palmer hit a couple of keys on the handset and brought up the next combination of numbers for his private web portal. He read them out, and once he had confirmation that Farrar had written them down correctly he asked if the message was vitally important or if it could wait a few hours.
“There’s no rush, but I need you to check your messages tomorrow. We’ve had a new development here, and in the next few hours there could be a change to your mission.”
Palmer was glad that they wouldn’t have to discuss business over the phone. There was no internet connection at the farm, so he would have to wait until they drove back to Durban the next afternoon. “I’ll be able to get to them in around twelve hours,” Palmer told him. “Can it wait until then?”
“Just as long as you check them before you meet our friends, that’s fine.”
Farrar hung up, and Palmer was suddenly wide awake. He had everything ready for the next evening’s operation, and now Farrar wanted to change things at the eleventh hour. It was bad enough having to source a new weapon with every job, what with handguns being frowned upon by the customs people, but Sean had found him a beautiful piece. He’d spent the day sighting his new suppressed Sig P226 and adjusting the trigger tension until he had a weapon that reacted to his liking. In the meantime, Littlefield had gone out early to get the 3-Methylfentanyl and flash-bangs.
Now, with his shopping list complete and the plan in place, Farrar wanted to move the goal posts.
Was he going to call the whole thing off? No, he’d mentioned a change to the mission rather than a termination. Even if Farrar did decide to pull the plug, there was no way he was getting a refund.
It could be that there would be more than four people to deal with, or Farrar might want more information from them. Either way, he had what he needed to take care of the situation. The 3-Methylfentanyl he’d asked Sean for is an analogue fentanyl, an opioid analgesic similar to the one the Russians used to end the Moscow theatre siege in 2002, when it was delivered by aerosol into the auditorium. Palmer was sure that any container designed to hold people for weeks at a time would have air vents to allow them to breathe, and it was through these that he would administer the incapacitating agent. If there were no vents, he would open the door and throw in a couple of the flash-bangs, which produce a deafening noise and blinding flash and are designed to disorientate, but unlike conventional grenades they don’t produce the large amounts of deadly shrapnel.
This would allow him to set the canister to auto-release and throw it in the container. By the time anyone came to their senses it would be too late to stop the contents being dispersed, and with the dispersal mechanism being almost silent, it was doubtful that anyone would notice it even with perfect hearing. Everyone in the container would lose consciousness within a few moments, leaving him the simple task of dragging out the four non-Chinese occupants and loading them into his vehicle.
Satisfied that he wouldn’t have to adapt this plan too much, no matter what Farrar had in mind, Palmer settled back to sleep.
Chapter 10
Monday May 7th 2012
Todd Hamilton pulled in behind Matt Baker’s Ford Transit at just after one in the morning and killed the engine. His colleague was already out of the van, weapon drawn and hanging loosely by his side.
“Put that away,” Hamilton hissed as he got out. “We need to make this look like an accident.”
“I know!” Baker responded loudly, and Hamilton wondered how he’d ever made it to adulthood, never mind team leader. Perhaps it was the kill-rate despite his tender years, or his willingness to take on any job. It certainly wasn’t down to his tactical thinking.
“Keep your voice down, man.”
Two more occupants climbed out of the vehicles and into the brisk evening, doing up jackets to shield themselves from the wind that ran ahead of the rain clouds. A downpour was forecast for the early morning, yet another in what had already been a miserable spring.
Hamilton could have called on all eight members of their teams, but there was little need for that many bodies. It just meant more chance of detection. He’d have happily done it with just Paul Dougherty from his own team for company, but orders were orders.
Hamilton assumed command of the operation despite holding the same position as Baker. The personnel from both teams listened intently as he outlined his plan, happy that Baker wasn’t leading the assault.
Gray Redemption (Tom Gray #3) Page 12