by Ted Tayler
*****
Across the Roman city, sporadic firework displays lit the sky as people celebrated Burn’s night.
The attack began at one minute past midnight.
A patrol on the perimeter came under fire first. The three men fell to the ground, and neither moved again. As cars and vans stormed across the cattle grid and spread out across the lawns, the alarm rang out. Henry Case ordered the ice-house staff to initiate a lockdown. A skeleton crew was to remain underground until the battle was over.
In the main building, the noise woke Minos and his wife, Claudia. Alastor too was out of bed and looking through his curtains. Sarah Case huddled in the corner of their room and prayed. The doors were locked and barred. The Grid’s gunmen had to break through four defensive lines to reach the house.
Armed personnel guarded each door and window. Henry wanted to contain this fight within the grounds at the front of the estate. If that failed, the battle was lost.
Phoenix and Rusty stood side by side near the stable block and the transport section. There were others alongside them whose duty was to prevent the attackers from reaching the rear of the house. Beyond the lawns lay the ice-house and the workers’ cottages.
The two friends had an unhampered view of the approaching threat.
“This is only the first wave,” said Rusty, “look, headlights in the lane. Sixty men have joined the attack so far. How many more do you think they have?”
The sound of automatic fire filled the air.
A group of men sprinted from a van twenty yards ahead of them. They fired wildly. The response from the highly trained squad beside Rusty was precise and deadly. Four men staggered and fell. The fifth turned and ran back towards their van. He clambered inside and drove straight towards the defensive line of cars.
A sustained burst of heavy machine-gun fire brought the van to a standstill. Its driver now stared unseeing at the roof of the cab.
Across the cattle grid, they came. More and more vehicles. More and more men.
Henry looked at the casualties around him. Medics were at full stretch treating the injured.
Men sporting field dressings remained at their posts. Smoke, burning cars and dead bodies covered the lawns.
Henry Case moved towards the forward defensive lines. Should they abandon them? Could they continue to hold the line? Hayden Vincent was furthest forward; his crew halved.
“We need help,” Henry he shouted, “can you spare more men?”
“I’ll help you myself,” yelled Henry, picking up a gun from the floor next to a body.
He recognised the fallen agent. He had returned from Nigeria for retraining. Another two weeks and he was due to join a team in Dover.
Hayden and Henry rallied their men and kept up a steady rate of fire at the advancing gunmen. The gunmen fell back, and others came forward to attack another defensive line. Hayden watched as the sheer weight of numbers took its toll; the cordon broke.
Phoenix and Rusty spotted the danger. Their squad moved forward to beyond the orangery. They prepared to shoot anyone who crossed that line.
Hayden and Henry forgot those ahead of them for now. The gunmen were in a deadly crossfire.
There were no more headlights in the lane. Forty minutes of fighting ended. The cars and vans still mobile retreated across the cattle grid and back to wherever they came.
Henry began the sorry task of assessing the damage.
The Grid’s attack left Larcombe with sixteen dead and several dozen casualties.
In London, Tyrone O’Riordan would soon learn his first attempted D-Day failed to destroy Olympus. His thugs had been bloodied. Over forty gunmen would never fire another gun. How many wounded the uninjured dragged into the vehicles as they left, no-one knew or cared.
Henry’s heart sank as he walked into the stable block’s medical centre. He found Bazza Longdon, the senior trainer among the dead. He had been at Larcombe with Thommo Thomson since the beginning. Thommo kneeled beside his mate’s body. There were no witty remarks tonight.
Henry walked past trainees, stewards, gardeners and drivers. Every one of them had given their lives for Olympus. At the end of the row of bodies, he saw the figure of Hayden Vincent with his head bowed.
“Oh no,” said Henry. He put an arm on Hayden’s shoulder. Tears rolled down the man’s cheeks.
Kelly Dexter had been cleared by Athena to withdraw from active duty on Monday. She had been six months pregnant.
“Why was she even here?” asked Henry.
“Did you ever try to tell Kelly she shouldn’t take risks?” asked Hayden, “she loved this place. Nobody could tell her to stand aside.”
Henry saw a doctor nearby. He read Henry’s unspoken question and shook his head.
There had been no chance of the baby’s survival. Henry sat on the floor and wept.
Phoenix and Rusty toured the grounds. The perimeter patrols had resumed, but it felt that the danger had passed. The ice-house was no longer on lockdown. Artemis had spoken with Rusty. Phoenix called Athena to tell her he was safe and the Grid’s thugs beaten back for now. He admitted there had been casualties. There was time enough tomorrow to give her the details.
Sarah Case found Henry in the stable block. They clung to one another.
“Thank God you’re safe,” she said. “Now, I must do my duty.”
As Sarah moved from corpse to corpse, the room fell silent. Her prayer sounded simple enough. The same prayer, sixteen times over became a message of epic proportions.
In the main building, Sir Julian Langford and his wife Claudia sat with Mike Purvis. News of the dead and the casualties were relayed to them by Giles Burke.
“William Hunt imagined this might happen one day,” said Sir Julian.
“He prayed Olympus never suffered this scale of a loss,” said Mike.
“It was inevitable,” said Claudia. “In 2006, when his advert in the Times first appeared, things were bad in the UK. Since then, things have grown ten times worse. This battle has to be a turning point.”
“If Phoenix can achieve what he hopes for on Friday, we may look back on last night as just that. A fresh start. A new dawn.
Monday, 26th January 2015
As dawn broke, the clean-up began; they cleared bodies and burned-out vehicles from the lawns. They removed the defensive lines. The garage was two men short, but they strove to get enough vehicles ready for use.
If the wrecks had to become barricades, they would drag them out of the garage by a tractor. The medical unit had seriously wounded men to treat. The walking-wounded were back at work wherever they could.
Henry met with Phoenix and Rusty at seven o’clock to decide what to do with the men the Grid left behind.
“Sarah thinks we should return them to their loved ones. We’re not barbarians.”
“We don’t know where to start,” said Rusty, “and it raises too many questions. We can’t rely on the entire police force turning a blind eye.”
“I can’t believe the police weren’t called about the gunfire last night,” said Phoenix, “surely Bath isn’t overrun with Scotsmen?”
“I’m not the only one around here,” said Rusty, “but we didn’t waste drinking time on fireworks in my day.”
“We must find a new place to bury the dead, near the estate’s church. Sarah can consecrate the ground. We’ll get a message to O’Riordan their dead received a proper burial. It’s more than they deserved, but Sarah’s right. It will stand us in good stead on Friday if we can show the police we’re not animals.”
“Who’s notifying the families of our people who died?” asked Henry.
“Athena returns from Burnham-on Sea later this morning. She knows the numbers, but she hasn’t heard we lost Kelly Dexter and Barry Longdon yet. If she needs help, I’ll get her to call Zeus and Hera. They need to know what happened. No doubt Zeus will want to call an emergency meeting to discuss the outcome of Friday’s meeting. The eleventh of March is too long to wait to get everyone at
the Olympus top table on board with this shift in direction.”
At lunchtime, Athena drove through the gates of her home. Patches of scorched earth told the tale of the battle of Larcombe Manor. A single church bell tolled in the distance. She wondered what it meant.
In her car seat in the back, Hope looked and listened. Where was Daddy? Mummy told Grandad he was alright, but she needed to see him. Her face broke into a big smile as she spotted him by the big door.
Daddy looked tired and sad. Rusty stood beside him with Artemis.
They looked sad too.
“Artemis will look after Hope,” said Phoenix. “We need to talk.”
“The bell?” asked Athena.
“We are burying the enemy dead,” whispered Rusty. “Sarah Case is officiating. Henry is on bell duty.”
Artemis took Hope to their apartment. Her thoughts were with Hayden Vincent.
In their apartment, Phoenix broke the news of the full cost to Olympus of last night’s fighting to his wife. Athena looked out of the full-length windows of their lounge. The lawns and gardens were unscathed.
In the distance, the ice-house still held the massive intelligence infrastructure that drove the Olympus Project. The damaged areas would recover.
Athena wept for Kelly and Bazza. Olympus had lost two of its stars. She grieved for each of those that died for the cause, but Friday’s meeting promised a brighter future.
*****
Tyrone and Colleen O’Riordan licked their wounds. The attack had not destroyed the Olympus threat. Colleen blamed her son.
“You should have sent more men,” she yelled, “you were so cocksure you had enough. Why didn’t they stay until they finished the job? Who decided to pull out? If it cost a hundred men, it would have been worth it to finish them.”
“They buried our dead,” said Tyrone, “I never expected that.”
“That shows how weak they are,” Colleen shouted. “If it been done right, we could have shoved the bodies into that big house and burned it to the ground.”
“I heard from the Alliance last night,” said Tyrone.
His mother was crazy. She never listened. Tyrone didn’t tell her he had one last throw of the dice.
EPILOGUE
Friday 30th January 2015
Rusty drove Phoenix to West Bromwich. Athena had decided they were best suited to talk terms with the police chiefs. She stayed at Larcombe with Hope and waited for news.
“This still feels odd,” said Rusty, searching for a vacant space in the visitor’s car park.
“It offers Olympus a way forward,” said Phoenix, “an opportunity to leave a legacy for the organisation.”
“That’s deep, even for you mate,” said Rusty.
He parked the car, and they got out.
“This is an important day, Rusty. The next few hours could give law enforcement real teeth again. This Assistant Chief Constable and his colleagues from across the country want to step away from the current ineffective system. There will be stiff opposition to that, but we can overcome it with public support. The protests in recent months show the majority have had enough. It’s time for a change.”
Inside the police headquarters, an officer took them upstairs to a meeting room where they met with a group of high-ranking officers. Two hours later, they made their way downstairs again.
They had achieved everything they had wanted. Phoenix had considered every caveat their new colleagues suggested, and with Rusty’s agreement had accepted.
As they walked through reception, Rusty looked at his friend. Phoenix had been magnificent in that meeting. The confidence with which he made their case surprised him. Athena and the other Gods would be proud.
As they reached the door, a group of uniformed police officers entered the building. One stood back to allow Phoenix through. The others laughed at their fellow officer holding the door and pushed their way inside.
“Sorry, sir,” said the young officer to Rusty, with a grin. “I blame the parents.”
They both heard the single gunshot.
Rusty raced towards the car park. Phoenix lay on the ground.
The young police officer raised the alarm and caught up with him.
“Shit. There’s a lot of blood,” he said. “Where’s the shooter?”
The car park filled with armed officers; there was no sign of the gunman — no sign of a paramedic.
Rusty applied pressure to the wound. He tried desperately to stem the flow of blood.
“Hang on, Phoenix,” he shouted. “Help’s on its way.”
Phoenix struggled to put his right hand on his friend’s wrist and shook his head.
“I’m getting too old for this,” he said. His hand slipped away.
Rusty realised Phoenix was gone. Tears filled his eyes as he hugged him.
A motorcycle paramedic sped into the car park.
“It’s too late; he’s gone,” said Rusty.
“Let me check you over,” said the paramedic after he’d confirmed Phoenix was dead.
“This was his blood,” said Rusty. “I’m fine.”
“Maybe my mates did you a favour, sir,” said the young policeman. “The delay at the doorway saved your life.”
The ACC had now arrived on the scene. He took Rusty to one side.
“We’ve got CCTV cameras covering this area. We’ll get the bastard that did this. I want you to tell your people this changes nothing. We remain one hundred per cent committed, and I’m sure you are too. It reinforces what we both believed. Organised crime and their establishment allies will go to any lengths to stop us working together.”
Rusty nodded and shook the ACC’s hand.
“I must get back to his wife and family. I need to tell them in person. Can you keep a lid on this with the media for twelve hours?”
“You have my word,” the ACC replied.
“I’ll arrange for the body to be collected as soon as you’ve completed your investigations,” said Rusty. He called the nearest Olympus team leader.
Rusty made the long, lonely drive back to Larcombe Manor. The news he carried from the Midlands was bitter-sweet. Olympus now had a new purpose, which was Phoenix’s legacy. He would no longer see it come to fruition.
Saturday, 31st January 2015
Tyrone O’Riordan was not a happy man. The assassin had only killed one of his targets.
The media reported a lone gunman murdered a civilian in cold blood at the West Midland Police Headquarters in West Bromwich. There were still no details of who died. One thorn in the Grid’s side eliminated; another survived. His final throw of the dice had fallen short of the mark.
His friends in the Alliance had wanted both Olympus agents killed, just as he had. They financed the hit, so Tyrone knew they would be unhappy with the outcome. He needed to rebuild bridges if they were to continue their partnership.
February - April 2015
Maria Elena returned from Estepona on Monday evening after the attack. She refused to stay away from Giles any longer. The nanny looked after Hope while Athena planned the funerals of Barry Longdon, Kelly Dexter and her unborn child.
Minos and Alastor assumed responsibility for the other Olympus men who had died. As those arrangements were progressing, Athena learned of Phoenix’s death. Another funeral to attend at Larcombe Manor. Where else could it be held? Phoenix didn’t exist.
Athena endured many dark days after Rusty’s return that Friday afternoon. The danger had always been there. She and Phoenix had both understood that. It didn’t make the pain any easier to bear. She still caught Hope standing by the window looking for her father to come home.
On Monday, the second of February, Rusty stamped his mark on the new Olympus with a visit to the City of London. He killed Tyrone and Colleen O’Riordan. He blew open the safe in the bedroom of Tyrone’s flat and discovered damning documentation on the Grid. There were details of the burgeoning cooperation with the far-right group.
On Tuesday, Giles Burke hacked into the Gle
ncairn Bank and froze the Grid’s assets. Without the shield of the bank to protect the money-laundering, it exposed the soft underbelly of the network.
Zeus acted as Phoenix had forecast. He called an emergency meeting. Ten Gods gathered at Curzon Street, in London, on Wednesday, the fourth of February. The two newcomers, Chronos and Hebe, were welcomed. Aphrodite returned once more, bruised but not broken. Ambrosia was in mourning but managed to seat herself next to Zeus.
Zeus received unanimous support for the vision of the new Olympus Project. Athena would return to the table in time. Phoenix was gone, never to be forgotten.
Apollo proposed Rusty should take his place. Zeus dubbed him Perseus, the slayer of monsters.
In mid-February, Athena had the scan confirming she was expecting a son. There was only one name that suited the occasion. He would be called Phoenix.
Perseus promised to train Hope and Phoenix when the time came.
Artemis, Sarah and Maria Elena plotted to add to the number of students. There would always be monsters. The world needed heroes to slay them.
The tide had turned. Police now had the tools to wage the fight against organised crime with the help of Olympus.
Callum Wood received a call from Zara Wheeler at the end of March. She offered him Phil’s old job. He had never fancied moving into the new headquarters at the end of the year, so he accepted.
Callum found a folder on his desk when he arrived on his first day at Larcombe Manor. He learned that the double murderer he sought was a Russian gangster contracted to kill Phil Hounsell. He had been eliminated.
The three Albanians responsible for the robberies and the killing of Wayne and Bridie had been hunted down and killed in Tirana. They recovered a substantial sum of money.
Callum had the task of identifying a list of charities he thought should benefit.
Callum wondered what he’d let himself in for; he decided he wasn’t an old dog yet. He could learn new tricks. Working at Larcombe Manor promised to be interesting.