by Robin Crumby
The man in black believed no one was immune to the lure of power, the opportunity to quench a base thirst for violence and destruction. He had seen it so many times. Respectable figures of society, judges, teachers, and particularly policemen, driven to extreme behaviours, in the secure knowledge that the justice system had failed. There would be no knock on the door, no repercussions. Killing was like a drug, and the man in black was the pusher.
Copper spoke quietly in hushed tones so that no one else could hear them. Their plan had failed, they had already suffered heavy losses. With daylight only an hour away, he counselled retreat.
The man in black, cocked his head and stared back at Copper, refusing to lower his voice, unconcerned by who might hear their conversation. “We have not come this far, to give up now. Copper, I’m surprised at you. What exactly are you afraid of?”
“If we stay here much longer, we’ll be exposed, vulnerable to a counter attack,” counselled Copper, appealing to his common sense. “Our exit route could be compromised, our men cut off. If we leave now, we can make it out and live to fight another day.”
The man in black sneered at Copper. “We came here for those girls and unless we find them, all this will be wasted effort. Copper, I expected more from you.”
“The girls are not at Hurst. He said so. Staying here to fight is folly. We need to leave now.” He was growing increasingly frustrated with his superior’s refusal to listen.
“And you believed him? Really Copper. You shouldn’t believe everything you’re told,” he mocked.
Copper’s men were listening in and not liking much what they were hearing. The man in black would get them all killed. Sarge murmured under his breath that the guy had lost his mind. This was pure rage. He wasn’t thinking straight. Their loyalty was to Copper after all. It was up to him to put an end to this. To take action.
Sarge waved Copper over and whispered conspiratorially for a few minutes, standing a few yards away from the rest. Copper nodded back to the Sergeant but didn’t look totally convinced. On reflection, it seemed like the only option. It was in the best interests of the group. Their commander could no longer be trusted, it was up to Copper now to take charge before anyone else got killed.
He walked up behind the man in black, who was looking round the corner watching for movement. He raised the butt of his rifle and brought it crashing down against the man in black’s skull, catching him unaware, knocking him out cold. His body collapsed limply on to the grass. One man took his arms and the other his feet and started carrying the unconscious man back through the courtyard towards the main gate, hugging the cover of the wall.
A hail of bullets tore up the ground in front of them. The gunfire was coming from the west, leaving them totally exposed. As one man tried to continue forward, the other pulled away and between them they dropped their commander’s body on the ground. They both raced into the covered main entrance, throwing their backs against the wall. Copper shouted after them. They couldn’t leave him behind. Mutiny was one thing, leaving him to be captured was even worse. The remainder of Copper’s group didn’t look back and walked on. They supported the walking wounded out with them. Squeezing through the blast hole in the drawbridge, they trudged dejected from the castle. They headed towards the tired looking ferry boat whose engines were coughing and spluttering, ready to cast off as soon as the last of the group was back on board.
Copper paused at the drawbridge, one foot through the blast hole looking back towards the courtyard and the man in black’s body with a heavy heart. This was not what he’d planned. This time there would be consequences, of that he had no doubt. Regardless of how he felt, he couldn’t reach his leader now without risking his own life, running the gauntlet under fire. He shook his head, turned towards the jetty and jogged after the others. There would be hell to pay for this treachery.
***
Back on the USS Chester, the UAV controller sat in a swivel chair chewing gum in semi-darkness. The room was bathed in a red glow from several night-lights. Various screens and flashing buttons cast a ghostly grey monochrome over an operator’s furrowed brow and wire-framed glasses. He was squinting at the screen trying to lip-read what the man on the rampart was saying. He’d zoomed the camera in close, but the resolution wasn’t great and the drone was as close as he dared to the castle walls without endangering the UAV’s rotors.
“CO, are you getting this? Looks like he’s mouthing something, trying to send us a message?”
“Roger that. Any idea what he’s saying?”
“The boys reckon he’s saying: ‘Send help, many casualties.’ But honestly sir, without audio, he could be ordering pizza for all we know.”
“OK, let’s take a look around please. Get the XO on the line, and get a medical team prepped to go help those guys. Let the team know that they have multiple casualties in need of urgent medical attention. Make sure they have an armed escort, we won’t know what’s going on there. So we take no chances. Are we clear?”
The drone rose over Will’s head and panned round the rest of the castle. The on-screen image showed the dying embers of a campfire, passing over the courtyard, pausing to take photos of the damaged canteen. Along one wall, there were a number of bodies. From their positions against the wall, and the groupings of bullet holes in the stone, it looked like a scene of execution. The three of them in the stateroom simultaneously gasped. Jack and Sam leaned closer trying to make out any distinguishable features or clothing. Sam let out a pained cry, repeating ‘no, no, no’ over and over as he recognized two of his mates. Jack said nothing, clenching his fists repeatedly, grinding his teeth.
The drone moved away, hovering over the gate to the inner courtyard. It picked out more bodies. Injured men and women were propped up in a seated position, being tended to and made comfortable. There were no signs of flames in the main building, just smoke and blackened doorways, some burnt out debris lying nearby.
The eastern wing of the castle was untouched. They could see figures emerging from their hiding places, pointing up at the drone as it rose higher over the castle.
“OK, we’ve seen enough here. Don’t worry Jack, the helicopter is refuelled and ready, our medical team are already on board and will be on station in ten minutes. We’ll take care of them. Jenkins, take me on to Osborne House and let’s see what we can find. Are we in contact with the Seal team?”
“Yes, sir. I can patch you through now? Give me a minute.”
There was a delay of a few seconds as the drone continued on, passing the Lymington river entrance, heading across the Solent towards Cowes.
“Go ahead sir, I have Sergeant Jones on the line now.”
“Good morning Sergeant. Hope you had a good night’s rest there at Osborne.”
“Yessir. Quiet night all round after your lot left. No sign of Briggs. Looks like he high-tailed it out of here. The good news, sir? The tracker is active. We have a strong signal and show the convoy heading north back towards us, now on the main road, about three clicks away from our position.”
“How’re our new friends from the Royal Navy doing?”
“We’re having quite a tea party. Looks like the rest of the men are enjoying what they call a ‘Full English’. Real eggs and bacon sir, fried tomatoes, toast and mushrooms. Beats powdered egg and beans any day. It’s quite something, sir.”
“You’re making me hungry Sergeant and not a little jealous,” smiled Peterson. “Listen up. The UAV is en route to locate that convoy and we’re sending a helicopter to Hurst to tend to their wounded. They had quite a night too, but looks like the good guys came through.”
“Good to hear sir. We’ll wait for further instructions and a ride back to the ship when you’re good and ready sir.”
“Very good Sergeant. Chester out.”
Back on the screen, the UAV had crossed a beach and was heading inland over the Isle of Wight. To the right of the UAV feed appeared a digital map with the location of the convoy as a white dot moving slowly n
orth. The tracker signal was pinging loud and clear from the transmitter, hidden underneath Briggs motorcade.
Jack’s eyes flicked from the video feed to the map and back again as the distance between the two closed rapidly on a conversion course. There it was. In the extreme distance on the viewfinder, they could just make out the motorcade. There were four, no, five vehicles bumping along the road from Newport heading back towards Cowes. At the head of a convoy, was a baby Humvee Briggs had requisitioned. Probably stolen and adapted for his own purposes with a large cattle grill on the front, a bank of spotlights on the cabin roof and what looked like metal plates welded to the front and sides.
“Chances are they’re heading back towards Osborne with reinforcements sir. Finish what they started. What are your orders?”
“We may not get a better chance at this Sergeant. Recommend we take them out here and now. CO to fire team. Prep a Tomahawk for us, can you please?
“Fire team, aye. Programing coordinates now, sir. Coordinates locked and ready. At your command.”
“Fire when ready.”
A forward missile hatch on the USS Chester, levered slowly open, its hydraulic piston whirring in the morning peace on deck. On the big screen in the stateroom, the image switched to a camera showing the missile hatch now fully open. The ship’s bow crested through the waves sending spray twenty feet either side. There was a pause before the rockets fired. Out of an eruption of smoke, the missile accelerated vertically into the grey morning sky, leaving a vapour trail behind it. The column of smoke drifted to the starboard side in the breeze.
Jack jolted, his whole body shaking, as if he’d been woken from a dream: “Wait, wait…”
Peterson and Sam glanced sideways at him, as if he’d lost his marbles.
“Call off the attack Lieutenant. How do we know Terra’s not with Briggs? She could be sat right next to him in that convoy.”
Peterson’s eyes flicked from Jack and back to the screen. He was considering this new information, weighing his options before seeming to nod, his mind made up. “I can’t do that, Jack. This may be the only chance we get to take out Briggs. He’s the biggest risk to Camp Wight we have right now. Lives at Osborne are at stake. We need to take this.”
“There must be another way? Please. I’m begging you.”
“I’m sorry Jack. There’s no way to stop the missile. There’s nothing I can do now.” He clasped his hands together, to impress upon Jack the finality of his words.
The missile had only five miles to run and stayed relatively low. It tracked northeast, speeding south of the Needles. Accelerating towards its maximum velocity, it arced over the island and just as suddenly started its descent. The screen in the stateroom alternated between the view from missile back to the drone, keeping pace with the convoy at about five hundred feet. The missile raced towards the convoy, its nose dipping down as it reached terminal velocity, zeroing in on the heat signature of the lead vehicle carrying the tracker. Jack found he was holding his breath. The screen went completely white, followed by static as the missile struck its target.
The operator switched views back to the drone. It showed a massive explosion and mushroom cloud of smoke. It took a couple of minutes for the smoke to clear sufficiently for them to make out the scene of destruction. A huge crater emerged in the roadway. One vehicle was a tangled mess. Bodies lay motionless nearby. Two other vehicles were on their sides. The last car, further behind had its four doors open, figures standing gawping down the road.
“Can we zoom in at all Jenkins? Would be good to get a look at those guys.”
The drone dropped altitude and zoomed right in. The four figures hove into view. Peterson squinted and blinked, not quite believing his eyes. “Isn’t that…?”
“It couldn’t be, could it?” added Jack, leaning closer.
“It most definitely is,” Peterson said shaking his head. He lifted the grey green handset to his lips and said: “Jenkins, let the XO know that we have a miss. Repeat, we have a miss. Briggs is still alive and it looks like he’s got a new friend.”
“I didn’t even know those two knew each other. Perhaps they’ve been in league all this time?” said Jack.
The camera zoomed in further and sure enough, standing next to Briggs was Victor, the first officer from the Charlotte Maersk.
“The double-crossing rat,” spat Jack. “I wonder if Anders knew about this?”
Chapter Fifty-two
Riley reversed the Land Rover up to the main entrance to the hotel and opened up the boot for Mila to load the rest of their gear. Other than minor burns and watery blisters on her fingers and forearm, Riley had nothing more to show for her suicidal dash through a burning building than some singed hair and scorch marks on her trousers.
Riley hurried back into the lobby area and helped Zed to his feet, levering himself up from a large leather sofa where he had been playing cards with Adele. One of the guards watched the Hurst group suspiciously as they manhandled Zed across the gravel driveway to the front seat of the Land Rover. Zed swung his legs up over the sill as he slumped back against the headrest, beads of sweat forming on his brow. He was gradually getting his strength back, but the strain was clear for all to see. He masked his pain well, but Riley knew him too well to be fooled so easily. It would be a while yet before he was back to his normal world-weary laconic self.
With Joe gone and Zed back on his feet, there was nothing left for them here. Riley was desperate now to get back to Hurst. Despite the efforts of the whole group to persuade her otherwise, Stella was adamant that she was staying put at the hotel.
Riley gave Stella a long farewell hug before stepping back to look into her eyes that were already welling with tears. She held her shoulders at arm’s length.
“Are you sure this is what you want, Stella? I know these are your friends. I get that. But living here, it’s basically a convent, yeah? You know you don’t have to live like this. You know that, right?”
The sun appeared from behind a cloud, blinding the group with brilliant sunshine. Stella squinted back, irradiated by the light. To Riley, she looked almost angelic, her skin radiant and beautiful. Through her tears, Stella’s passion and conviction was clear.
“I can’t explain it. I just feel like I belong here. You have to see beyond the Sisterhood with all their rules and religion. The way of life they are espousing here is pure. It’s what I want Riley. I think all of us secretly crave that simplicity, don’t we? A life with purpose and structure.”
“Well, not me sister, but I hear what you’re saying. I do. But is this really what you want, to live like a nun, to dedicate yourself to who knows what higher purpose? If it is, then I won’t try and dissuade you.”
“It is Riley. It really is.” She paused, looking at her shoes and then back at the hotel and the trees beyond, composing her thoughts, choosing her words carefully.
“I know you think that this whole place is false, that it’s not sustainable. That we’re all burying our heads in the sand and ignoring what’s going on in the real world out there, but I’ve made my choice. I don’t want to go back out there. I’m safe here now. I don’t have to wake up and worry about where my next meal is coming from, to live in fear, to watch my back all the time. Life here is pure and simple, free of violence and struggle. I like that.”
“But is survival enough Stella? Isn’t it up to us all to help rebuild what’s out there? Don’t you want to be part of that, to play your part?”
“Honestly…?” she scrunched up her face. “No. I’d prefer to live out my life right here.” She patted her belly, which was just beginning to show signs of swelling. Though anyone who didn’t know she was pregnant would have had a hard time spotting it. “I’ve got another life to think about now. I need a safe environment to bring up my baby and the Sisters can give me that. It’s not much, maybe, but it’s enough for me.”
Riley smiled and hugged her again. “I’m happy for you, really I am. I’ll come back and see you as soon as I
can. We all will.” As they were talking, the nurse appeared in the doorway holding Adele’s hand. She ran towards them with a small rucksack bouncing on her back. She attached herself to Stella and Riley, hugging them both, before heading towards the Land Rover, with a dismissive wave over her shoulder. She slammed the car door and pressed her face to the glass looking back at Stella, her breath hot against the windowpane.
There were voices behind them, footsteps crunching on the gravel. A small posse of women rounded the corner of the house, walking swiftly and purposefully towards them. Sister Theodora was at the head of the group, flanked by the two other Sisters.