by Stuart Field
And why shouldn’t they?
After everything that had taken place over the past couple of days, it seemed feasible.
‘Nobody in – nobody out,’ were her orders. But Bolton had spoken to the watch commander, explained everything. Now the big green machine was in action. But Price was already gone.
The medics saw to Bolton, he needed stitches and lots of whiskies. He had refused to go to the hospital. He needed to see this through. If not for all the people who had died – then for all those who would have – or still might.
Calver stayed downstairs, monitoring the feed and Steel’s progress. He had watched what Steel had done on the plane via the satellite feed – then grabbed a wastebasket and thrown up.
Bolton sat in Sloan’s office on the second floor, which was closer to the hive’s clinic. It was just a small set up, for slight injuries, but it was adequate for the medics that had come down to attend to the wounded. He was seated in Sloan’s old chair sipping a glass of eighteen-year-old malt. He thought if he had to bleed anywhere, it should be over Sloan’s stuff and not his own. So far, this operation regarding the new software had been a complete clusterfuck.
Bolton still could not get his head around the fact they had Foster’s daughter killed, just to get Steel over to the island, and that the section chief of the Homeland was dirty.
Foster was in the hospital after been blown up in the parking lot, and to top it all terrorists were in a C-130 heading for the States with an unknown cargo. But it was unlikely to be gifts or medical aid.
Bolton took a large mouthful of the Balintines whisky and stared at the picture of Sloan’s family that sat on the edge of the desk. Bolton was thankful the ambassador was out of the country for a visit to Italy.
That had at least been one less problem to worry about.
Now all he had to think about was the activation of the software. A programme he still did not know would work. The tech department had a look at the two hard drives and found that Steel was right, Calver had indeed had the original software. The other was a variant on the program. This would have had the opposite effect, it would have hidden know terrorists and shown all agents.
Bolton was still confused why anyone would have gotten Calver to try and swap them back. Still, maybe Steel was correct in his assumption, someone needed Calver as a scapegoat. Calver was never meant to get in and switch them, and if something happened to him and the drive was found, he would naturally get the blame.
The question was who?
Price? Or Sloan?
Even so, they were apparently working for someone, and that someone had significant resources.
Bolton had someone collect all the items on Sloan’s body and put them on the director’s desk. He wanted to search the office and Sloan’s things to find out what the man was into. Bolton knew the best place to hide something was Inside a secure building, so there wasn’t a chance of someone from the outside getting hold of anything incriminating.
Bolton picked up a black leather wallet and looked inside. Two-hundred and fifty euros in notes and seven in change, a picture of Sloan’s family, visa cards, insurance emergency card, driving license.
‘Not much to work on,’ Bolton thought as he sifted through the wallet. The other items from Sloan’s person did not help much either. A zippo lighter from his time in the Marines, a ticket for dry cleaning, a large bunch of keys that included Sloan’s house and car, and a packet of chewing gum.
Bolton sat back in the leather office chair and looked at the desk, at its many draws. Bolton considered his own desk, which was simply a six-foot sheet of glass on stainless steel legs. He hated his desk; the damn thing got fingerprints and smudges as soon as you looked at it. But this was an old Victorian oak desk or a fantastic replica.
Bolton tried the three thinner draws at the top. Naturally, the middle one was locked, he wouldn’t have expected anything less. Picking up Sloan’s keys, Bolton searched for one that matched the old-style lock in the desk. He found one that looked about right and tried it. There was a click, and Bolton smiled as he slowly slid the drawer open. Bolton hoped he wasn’t going to find the man’s porn collection.
He sighed with relief as he found the paperwork. Bolton began to search through looking for anything relevant. There were work orders for Sloan’s home and memos he had received from the head office – but nothing relevant. Bolton continued the search. There was nothing much, just a pack of unopened post-its and some pens. Bolton also found a business card. It was made from thick card, and the lettering was raised – black writing on a cream coloured background. The card was from one of the companies who were bidding for the new security contract. In the corner was a picture of a horses head, and the name Brian Slater was underneath the companies name.
Bolton figured this Slater character was some hot-shot at the companies sales department. But then, he’d have to be to try for this billion-dollar defence and security contract.
Bolton’s right index finger tapped the side of the card, his brain telling him it was important somehow but not why. He took the card and slid it into his inner jacket pocket, hoping it would come to him later.
Looking up at the clock, Bolton saw it was nearly time to activate the software. There was no stopping it; every agency was plugged in and waiting to get the download, so it was active all over the world at the same time.
Bolton stood up and closed the drawer.
The rest could wait.
For now, he had to get everything ready for the installation. As he walked out of Sloan’s office and down the corridor, one thought echoed in his mind.
I hope Steel pulls this off.
Chapter Seventy-Six
There was a sudden rush of air, and the C-130 banked slightly due to the sudden loss of atmospheric pressure. Steel fell hard straight on top of one of the terrorists, smashing him into the steel metal floor. Instinctively Steel grabbed the man’s head and twisted. He should have heard the neck crack, but the engines' loud drone drowned out any noise, including his fall. Steel lay for a moment, gathering his breath. His body hurt from his hard landing, but he could not worry about that now. The wind howled through the open hatch, lose debris was being sucked up and out. That told Steel they were still too high. Steel felt the planes, erratic movements as it rocked from side-to-side until finally the nose came up and they were flying level. Steel looked around but was unable to see anyone, the stacks of containers was blocking his view. Steel smiled.
If I can’t see you, you can’t see me, he thought.
Steel searched the ground. He found the terrorist’s M4 assault rifle and picked up, holding it firmly with both hands.
Steel took a moment to get his breath back. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and he could not afford to be light-headed.
He looked down at the guard he had just killed and searched him for anything useful. Steel found a candy bar and quickly ate it as he continued the search, the chocolate would give him a boost of energy. The man on the ground was tall and bulky. His tactical vest should be the correct size. Steel removed the guy’s vest and leg holster and put them on the floor. Steel knew that if he was attacked on the aircraft, he’d need to move, the parachute would restrict that. So, he stripped off the chute and strapped on the vest and holster he had gotten from the man he had fallen on.
Steel took the pistol from the holster and slipped out the magazine. The twenty round magazine was full. Steel placed the magazine back into the housing of the Army issue Sig Sauer M17 and put it weapon back in the polymer holster.
As Steel peered around the cargo's right side, he saw three men sat on the canvas seats. They talked with another three men, who were stood next to another pile of cargo near the cockpit. The plane continued to shudder and rock from air turbulence, causing the men to hold on to the sides of the aircraft.
He moved to the left and checked down the side of the cargo. There were six men, all armed the same way. The men were busy talking, two of the men were sle
eping.
All oblivious to his presence.
Steel looked down to where the guy had smashed his head on the side of one of the boxes. He was surprised the hit hadn’t broken the guy’s neck in the first place. As Steel moved back around, he noticed something behind the box the man had struck. The crate had moved, dislodged by the man’s head impacting on it. Steel looked around, nobody was taking any notice of what was happening in his direction. They were busy laughing. Steel peered into the gap, hoping to learn more about the contents of the cargo. Steel had already seen the weapons cases and ammunition boxes.
That had been disturbing enough. But something else had caught Steel’s eye. Steel looked in closer, inching some of the other boxes out of the way. Now he was able to see into the middle of the pile of boxes.
Steel paused for a second.
Instead of more crates, Steel saw Large silver-coloured barrels with bio-hazard stickers on them. Strapped to the barrels were wires and electronic detonators. This wasn’t a weapons cash, these were chemical bombs, and they were flying it to the US.
Steel had to think fast.
The simple answer would be to shoot everyone, grab the girl and reset the autopilot, so the plane crashed in the ocean. But they were heading towards the North Atlantic, miles from anywhere, and with no life raft. With that prospect, he may as well stay on board and go down with the plane.
No – he had to find another way.
Looking behind him, Steel looked at the door controls. It would be simpler to jettison the cargo and let them explode in water with no harm to anyone. But once it started, he would have no cover for the firefight that would soon follow. He could not risk blindly firing – he had no idea where Samara was.
Steel looked back at the cargo door controls. He’d had another idea.
He would bring them to him.
Steel snuck back down the aisle towards the controls and lowered the loading ramp. There was a massive rush of air, and daylight poured in like a flood. Lose items were blown out, including the man Steel had landed on. He shielded his face as the torrent of debris hurtled passed him. Steel glanced over at the parachute he had stowed near one of the chairs – it was still there. He had at least that for an exit plan.
Steel snuck back to the pile of crates, and using it as cover, moved closer up the plane. The men started to move down, at first two, only two men came. Steel suspected they thought their guy had played with the door controls – possibly fell out the plane.
Steel leaned against the side of the first crate so remain invisible, waiting for them to pass.
The two men passed by, their guns held ready to fire if necessary. The men headed for the controls, hoping to close the door.
Bad idea.
The terrorists never saw the Steel creep up behind them. The first man took a kick to the back, which sent him rolling out of the open cargo door. His hands grasped at the floor of the plane in hope to stop the inevitable. At the edge, his hands caught something, a ring from the loading straps. The man sighed with relief, but his legs were still over the edge. He wasn’t out of danger yet. The man pulled himself over the edge, moving slowly towards the inside of the plane. Sweat poured from his brow.
Steel swept the next man's leg, who landed hard on his back, then Steel gave a swift smash to his jaw, knocking him unconscious. The rushing air carried the body off as if it were paper on a stiff breeze.
Steel moved back to the crates and planned the next attack. This time it wouldn’t be so easy.
Knowing Samara was on board he had to stay hidden and attack carefully, guns blazing wouldn’t do it. Besides, one stray bullet hitting the hazardous containers and all their problems would be over. Even if they did not explode, the contents were bound to do something unpleasant. But dying wasn’t in Steel’s plan. He needed to stay alive to find the mastermind behind it all, and it wasn’t these terrorists – Sloan had made that clear.
Steel checked on the left side.
The six men were moving down in staggard formation. They knew something was up now the door hadn’t closed. Steel stuck to the shadows. He suspected the men on the other side would also be moving in a similar formation. They had probably gotten orders from the cockpit to see what was going on.
Steel waited for the men to move closer to the edge.
Four obliged him while the others stood fast at the sides. Steel chose to cut his losses and headed for the loading switch and pressed the launch button. There was a metallic clang, and the cargo was jettisoned in seconds, pushing several of the men with it. The other men looked out at their colleagues, shocked at what had happened. Steel grabbed the parachute he had brought with him and opened the canopy, the wall of silk rushed forwards towards the men, engulfed them and dragged them out. Shots rang out as the men fired in panic, sparks flew as the bullets struck metal and cables.
Steel turned quickly, hoping to see Samara safely strapped into a seat at the front. But all he saw was a monster of a man with a fire axe. Steel drew the Sig from the holster and raised it, but the man swung the weapon downwards with enough force that it would have cut Steel into two. But Steel rolled to the side, the sharp head of the axe slamming hard into the deck. Steel went to fire again, but the plane rolled hard to the side, sending everyone crashing to the side of the aircraft. One of the loose boxes smashed onto Steel, causing him to lose his grip on the weapon. Steel hed his injured shoulder, he did not think anything was broken, but it sure hurt like hell. Steel rolled again, this time to his feet. The beast swung after him, but just missing Steel’s middle. As the man swung once more he left his face and the side of his body open, Steel took the chance and landed several punches, which had no effect but to anger the brute further.
‘Really – does someone actually breed these for the bad guy’s?’ Steel groaned.
The man swung again at Steel’s middle, just as Steel jumped back to avoid the weapon. The head's blade hit hard, embedding itself into the plane's side and was stuck fast in the wall. Steel picked up one of the empty rifles that had spilt out onto the deck as the cargo was dragged off, and smashed the butt of the weapon against the man’s left knee. The brute screamed in pain and dropped down long enough for Steel to land another hit on the other the man’s head. Dazed, the man, got to his feet and swung for Steel, but his sudden blurred vision was the only thing that saved Steel from his massive fist.
The man’s fist impacted with the plane's wall, making him cry out in pain as he smashed into the glass of the fire extinguisher storage box. Blood and cut flesh mixed with large pieces of shattered glass, making the wound to his hand look angry and painful.
Steel grabbed the fire extinguisher and fired a blast into the man’s face, forcing him backwards. Before the brute could recover, Steel gave another blast from the extinguisher, which covered the beast of a man in a cloud of white fog. The man stumbled backwards, disorientated and hurt. Steel gave a final, more extended blast. The rear of the plane was covered in a white haze for a few seconds but as it cleared Steel saw with a sense of relief the brute had gone.
Steel tossed the fire extinguisher to the side and grabbed his painful shoulder. He looked over at the front of the plane and dragged his battered body there. He needed to make sure there were no more surprises. So far, he’d had more than he had expected on this trip.
Near the steps to the cockpit at the front, Steel saw two people strapped in and plastic cuffed. Steel froze for a second while he took in what he was seeing. Samara smiled at Steel with a broad, relieved look and next to her was – Foster.
His clothes were ripped, and he was bandaged up in places, but he was alive.
‘What kept you?’ Samara said, waiting for Steel to break her bonds.
‘Sorry, got caught in traffic, and to try and find a cab…’ Steel joked. He went back to the cabinet that the beast had broken, and removed a shard of glass. Steel walked back to Samara and Foster and cut their bonds.
‘I thought you were in the hospital?’ Steel said helping
Foster out of the seat.
‘I was. Well, +heading there anyways. One minute I’m in an ambulance heading to the hospital. Some medic gives me a shot, then the next thing I know I’m here,’ Foster said, still confused, and in pain from his injuries.
The plane rocked as it hit a small pocket of turbulence, forcing them to grab hold of anything stable. Steel looked up at the ladders that led up to the cockpit. The door was closed and probably locked from the inside. Somehow he had to bring the plane down. Steel knew that Raptors were on standby to take action.
Lethal if necessary.
‘You’ve got to get off this plane,’ Steel said.
‘Really, got a liferaft in that vest of yours? We’re over the ocean, I don’t think we’ll last long, especially if no one is looking for us?’ Foster argued. ‘Any ideas?’ Foster searched through the emergency bins for anything better than a life preserver and a flare gun. They had passed over Spain and Portugal around half an hour ago. They were now approaching Ponta Delgada and its surrounding Islands. Their only hope was to get as close to these as possible, which meant bringing the plane down.
Steel took out his phone and touched a couple of buttons and reset a marker on a map, then waited before putting the phone away in his pocket.
‘If you’re asking for a cab, I don’t think they do this far out,’ Foster joked. Steel grabbed the M4 from the floor and rechecked the magazine was full. Samara and Foster followed Steel to the right-hand side of the plane, and a crew hatch.
As they peered out through the small round window, they saw the engines. Flames spurted from the exhaust, and black smoke billowed out and carried on the slipstream, as the access fuel was being burnt off. The noise from the engines and the rattle of metal was deafening. Samara and Foster watched fearfully, wondering what he had planned.