by Hatchett
“You need to set it to channel 13, which is our emergency frequency,” Toby said, and Mamba quickly changed channel.
“Off ya go then, mate,” Mamba said, jovially, “’n don’t forget I’ll blow the fuckin’ bombs if more than one person comes outta that entrance.”
“Which way?” Toby asked, looking around but seeing very little.
“Fer fuck’s sake!” Mamba swore. He’d forgotten Toby might as well be blind without the NVGs.
Mamba stood up and helped Toby to his feet.
“Ahmed, find cover.”
“What ya doin’, bro?”
“Takin’ him near the door.”
Mamba led Toby along the path as Ahmed disappeared.
“Feels like I’m being led to the gallows,” Toby remarked.
“Maybe ya are,” Mamba replied. “I betta check this walkie talkie. What’s the guy’s name?”
“Martin Lane.”
Mamba turned up the volume then clicked the button.
“I wanna speak ta Martin Lane.”
The was a crackle before a voice spoke.
“Who is this? This is a restricted channel.”
Mamba guided Toby until they were around thirty metres directly in front of the entrance door and stopped. Mamba flipped up his NVGs and after a few seconds was satisfied that he could just about make out where the entrance door was. He flipped the NVGs back down.
“Ya betta check yer monitor at Sector 25.”
There was a brief pause.
“This is Martin Lane speaking. Who are you?”
“Ya can call me Mamba.”
“What can I do for you Mamba?”
“Yer’ll find out soon enough. I’m sending one of ya boys back with a message.”
“Is he hurt?”
“He’s not bit, if that’s what ya mean. Just a little bullet hole which I’m sure ya can fix.”
Mamba turned to Toby.
“Off ya go, mate, ‘n make sure he knows I’m serious.”
“He will. Thanks.”
Toby started walking towards the entrance. Mamba turned and ran off to find a spot which would give him sight of the entrance without being seen. He found a spot and quickly lay down and focused on the entrance. He wished he had brought some binoculars, but he wasn’t sure if they would be mush use with his NVGs. What he didn’t realise was that the NVGs had a zoom function.
Mamba watched as the large entrance door opened and harsh bright light spilled out of the gap. Toby was pulled in before the large door was shut again. Mamba had seen a group of armed soldiers in the entrance, but none of them had made any move to come outside.
55
Day 24 – 05:20
Burlington
Toby was led into the bright passageway and heard the door slam shut with a clanking sound behind him as he was quickly checked over for injuries. He was then led down a set of concrete steps to the next level where a lift was waiting with its doors open.
There were only two buttons in the lift; up or down, and one of his guards hit the ‘down’ button before the doors slid shut and the left began its decent.
Toby knew that the Control Room and Communications Centre was in Sector 25, so he knew they wouldn’t have too far to go once the lift stopped. The journey to the hospital in Sector 2 would take a little bit longer, although the ambulance carts moved far quicker that the monorail buggies and had priority over other transport.
The lift doors opened, and a buggy was waiting just a few metres away. Toby was guided into one of the front seats as another soldier jumped in next to him and pressed the destination on the console. Two more soldiers jumped into the rear seats as the buggy took off.
The journey was less than one hundred metres and fifteen seconds. The buggy stopped and all four got out before it sped away to answer another call.
Toby was led to a set of doors which automatically swished open and took them into a busy reception area. A woman pointed and said, ‘number 1’ and Toby was escorted to the corridor indicated. They walked along the corridor until they reached a door with a number 1 on it and one of the escorts pressed a button on the side wall.
“Look up,” the soldier ordered.
Toby looked up and saw a camera staring back at him. Although he was a soldier himself, he was just a grunt and had never been in this part of the complex. The door clicked open and he was led into the next room.
He found himself in a large room filled with monitors showing various live feeds of the ground up above. A man he recognised but didn’t know personally came towards him with a wry smile on his face and Toby knew that this was Martin Lane.
“Welcome back, soldier,” Martin said, and indicated a side office with glass walls. “Would you like a drink?”
“A water would be good, sir” Toby replied, and saw Martin nodding to one of the other soldiers.
Toby was led into the office and offered a seat as Martin settled in at the head of the table.
“I’m sure you’re in pain with your wound, so I’ll try and keep this brief so you can get yourself off to hospital.
“I’ve had some painkillers,” Toby confirmed.
“So, what have you got to tell me?” Martin asked as the water arrived.
Toby took a quick drink and wiped his lips with his good arm.
“They’re holed up in a hotel in the town. I saw roughly forty or fifty of them but there’s probably a lot more. They’re very well armed and the leader, that’s Mamba who you spoke to, is completely nuts. He’s kept two of our colleagues and has threatened to skin them alive and destroy this place if they don’t get what they want. I believe him.”
“And what do they want?”
“Sir James Curtis-Smyth and two pretty actresses and two pretty models with big hooters. Although you might get away with just Sir James. I think he was their real target.”
Martin’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
“I’m not joking, sir” Toby added quickly.
“I’m sure you’re not,” Martin said, looking through the glass wall into the Control Room. He was pleased Sir James wasn’t here and that he hadn’t waited for him to return before talking to Toby. Thinking about it further, Sir James seemed to have been gone a long time. Maybe he had gone back to his room for a shower and change of clothes. He certainly needed it.
“Did he say why he wanted Sir James?”
“No, he just said he wanted the ‘posh git’.”
“But how does he know Sir James?”
“I don’t know. He said something about Sir James being the boss of someone called Jack Robinson at Heathrow.”
Martin knew exactly who Jack Robinson was, not that he’d ever spoken to the man. Sir James was forever talking about him, and to him, and making comparisons between Jack and Martin.
“Anything else you can think of?” Martin asked.
“Not at the moment, sir, but I wouldn’t take too long to get back to Mamba. I don’t think he’s the patient type.”
“Thank you, soldier, you’ve been a great help,” he said, rising to his feet. “The men outside will take you to the hospital to get that wound sorted out.”
Martin opened the door and asked two of the soldiers to escort Toby to the hospital and asked the third to find Sir James for him. He picked up a walkie talkie and returned to the office and sat down.
He wasn’t too sure how he was going to play this. He couldn’t just hand over Sir James, let alone anyone else, but he knew he was dealing with a psychopath who wouldn’t accept ‘no’ for an answer. A psychopath who had the ability to destroy the whole city unless he made the right choices.
56
Day 24 – 05:30
Corsham
Mamba was still staring at the entrance, getting more and more annoyed with each passing minute. Why hadn’t that Martin fucker not come back to him? Did he think Mamba would just walk away? Did he think he was too important?
Mamba tried the walkie talkie but all he got in response was crackling and static. He thoug
ht through his options. Set off a bomb to get their attention? Possible. Skin the two soldiers and put the bodies outside the entrance? Possible. Or maybe he should tie them up between two vehicles then drive the vehicles in different directions to pull them apart? Definitely possible. He’d seen that somewhere and had laughed at the time, thinking it was a brilliant way to kill someone. He remembered wanting to try that out himself, so maybe this was his chance. It was a film. Years ago. What was it? He could see the actors in it and wished Ahmed was here so he could ask him. He was sure to remember. Stupid! He clicked his earpiece.
“Ahmed?”
“Here.”
“What was that film from years ago where this nutter killed some bird by tyin’ her ta a coupla vehicles ‘n pullin’ her apart?”
There was a pause as Ahmed considered the question.
“Um…‘The Hitcher’. Classic.”
“Fuck. ‘Course, it was! That German bloke with the blond hair ‘n smile. I always remember the smile. Like he was ‘bout ta bite yer head off ‘n keep smilin’ while doin’ it.”
“Yeah, he also chopped someone’s finger off ‘n put it in someone else’s plate of chips.”
“Shit yeah. I forgot ‘bout that. Great film. Loved the guy. Roger or summat.”
“Yeah summat like that.”
“I was thinkin’ we should try it out.”
Before Ahmed could answer, Basir’s voice came through his earpiece.
“Boss? You’re not gonna believe this,” he said laughing.
“What?”
“They obviously sent some more of their soldiers out and they got done by the zombies. The stupid bastards are wandering around here now.”
Mamba smiled.
“Nice one, Basir. Great news.”
Mamba knew that Basir had gone to Sector 23.
“Boss? Same here,” Faruk confirmed.
This just got better and better. Faruk and Ismet were at Sector 1.
“Nothing here, Boss. All quiet, no soldiers,” Umit butted in.
“OK. Y’all planted bombs on the fans ‘n ‘round the entrances?”
A chorus of ‘yes, Boss’ came through the earpiece.
“Me too,” came from Dev.
“Good lads!” Mamba said. “I’ll let ya know if I want ‘em set off. Otherwise keep watch ‘n kill anythin’ that comes outta the entrances.”
As he finished talking, the walkie talkie crackled into life. About fucking time too!
57
Day 24 – 05:40
Burlington
Martin was still in the office and he’d just had word that the soldier he had sent to find Sir James hadn’t been able to.
Martin then asked him to track Sir James down using his bracelet, but the soldier had already done that. The bracelet had been found in Sir James’s bedroom, but the man wasn’t there.
Martin was confused. Bracelets should never ever be taken off, it was one of the main rules in Burlington, if not the main rule. He could have gone to his room to change as he suspected and just forgotten to put his bracelet back on, but that didn’t explain why he wasn’t back in the Command Room. Where was he?
Martin told the soldier to widen the search and get more people on it. He wanted Sir James found, and found quickly. In the meantime, he had no choice but to speak to Mamba. He turned on his walkie talkie, switched it to channel 13 and clicked the button.
“Mamba, this is Martin.”
“What the fuck took ya so long?!” came the loud and impatient response out of the speaker.
“Sorry about that,” Martin said, turning the volume down a notch. “I had to listen to the message you sent with Toby, then I had to make sure he was taken to hospital to get his wound sorted out.”
“So, ya sendin’ that prat ‘n the birds out ta me or not?”
Martin saw that Mamba was obviously not one for small talk.
“That’s not my decision, but I’m working on it.”
“Who’s decidin’?”
“The Prime Minister.”
“Then get his arse in there with ya, pronto. Ya got ‘til six.”
“I might need more time.”
“I seen ‘em bullshit films where the cops always playin’ fer time. Don’t think ya can sneak outta yer other holes ‘n catch me out. I know where they are, ‘n if anyone comes out then they’ll just end up like the rest of the men ya lost earlier when ya was tryin’ ta be sneaky. Did ya know that there’s now zombie soldiers wanderin’ ‘round in Sector 1 and 23, ‘n ‘round here of course? Take a look at yer cameras if ya don’t believe me.”
“I believe you,” Martin replied quickly, worried that Mamba must have men at all the various sites to know that. “I won’t send anyone out.”
“Ya betta not. We got bombs planted everywhere.”
Martin closed his eyes, as if in pain. He was sure he had more soldiers than Mamba had, and his were undoubtably better trained, but they hadn’t got the experience of Mamba’s men in dealing with the zombies. The entrances, or exits in this case, were relatively narrow and easy to cover. Sending any men through them now would just turn it into a killing field and the added concern was that some zombies could get into the complex.
“I hear you,” Martin confirmed.
“Ya betta be quick, or I might start explodin’ ‘em anyway.”
“OK. I better go,” Martin said and clicked off.
He strode to the door and threw it open.
“Get the Prime Minister here now! And find Sir James! Get me a line to Jack Robinson in Heathrow.”
Martin shut the door and sat back down. He was tired and struggling to think straight. He realised now that they should have prepared better defences above ground, and certainly should have gone up there to recce the areas over the past few weeks. Too late now. The simple fact was they had become complacent living down here as if nothing had happened and blithely living from day to day with the illusion of safety.
One of the operators knocked and opened the door and stuck his head in the room.
“All communications with Heathrow are down,” he said with a concerned look on his face.
“Have you tried the Sat phone or basic radio?” Martin asked.
“Not yet,” the operator replied and ducked his head out of the room and closed the door.
Martin was a worried man. If Heathrow had succumbed to the zombies it would be crushing news for everyone, especially the powers-that-be as they saw the Heathrow Initiative, as they had come to refer to it, as the next step in rebuilding, a safe place for those in Burlington to eventually emerge from their underground prison. If Heathrow had gone, what hope was there? The only other safe site he was aware of was Whale Island near Portsmouth, but he was sure that it wasn’t big enough for all the people in Burlington. And there was no safe way to get there, anyway. Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure Heathrow was big enough either, unless they managed to source thousands of tents to set up within the grounds. The next question which flicked through his mind was how Heathrow might have been lost. Did Mamba have anything to do with it?
58
Day 24 – 05:45
Burlington
There was another knock on the office door and the same operator walked in holding a Sat phone.
“I’ve got Jack Robinson on the line,” the operator said, before handing over the phone and backing out of the room.
Martin looked at the phone for a second, then put it to his ear.
“Hello? Jack?”
“Yes, hello Martin. I’ve heard a lot about you so it’s good to finally talk to you. I’ve got you on speakerphone and I have Issy, Sarah, Bear and Irish here with me. They’re four of our Leaders here in Heathrow.”
“Good of you all to take my call. I was a bit worried when I was told your communications were down. I thought we might have lost you.”
“We had a bit of an incident,” Jack confirmed, “but we’re still here.”
“Funny you should say that. We’re having a bit of
an incident as we speak.”
“Go on.”
“We have people attacking us from above, led by some nutter called Mamba. Have you heard of him?”
Jack saw Issy close her eyes and take a deep breath.
“Have we heard of him? Yes, you could say we have. Up close and personal. In a nutshell, we’ve been fighting him on and off since the zombie outbreak started. He and his gang took over the Tower of London and we helped free the innocents inside. Then he retaliated by taking down one of our satellite sites and launched an unsuccessful attack on us here. Then he came back again, and this time he caught us out. We…”
The Prime Minister entered the room and Martin indicated a seat and switched his phone onto speakerphone.
“The Prime Minister has just joined me,” Martin interrupted. “Please go on.”
“So, anyway, the only way we could get rid of him without threatening all the people here was to tell him about Burlington. Of course, we didn’t mention the underground railway. So, what’s the problem? I understood you were self-contained and impregnable so it would be a waste of his time, and hopefully he would get caught out and never be seen again.”
“Well, we’re not as impregnable as we thought. I don’t know how he’s done it, but he managed to disable four of our air turbines and destroyed three of our entrances. He has men covering the other entrances and turbines and he’s planted bombs all over the place. If he doesn’t get what he wants, he’s going to set off those bombs and we’ll be finished. Where did he get all his equipment?”
“He stole weapons and equipment from us, but his men make the bombs. All his men are from a Turkish gang, but I’m sure we don’t have time to get into the detail.”
“What does he want?” Issy asked.
“He said, and I quote, ‘ya sendin’ that prat and the birds out ta me or not’? He was referring to Sir James Curtis-Smyth and two actresses and two models ‘with big hooters’.”
The Prime Minister frowned, wondering if he had been dragged out of bed as part of some elaborate joke.
“That sounds like Mamba,” Issy confirmed. “Are you going to meet his demands?”