Meltdown (17 page)

Waiting and watching, being patient, was part of
the job, but Phil's patience was being tested to the
limit.

He watched a huge truck, just one up, drive
slowly into the old hangar. The doors didn't close
afterwards. The reason became apparent less than
a minute later when a second truck, two up and
pulling what appeared to be an identical trailer,
appeared and also drove into the hangar.

This time the doors did slide shut. Phil waited; he
was far too experienced to go rushing in. It was
fortunate that he was. A few minutes later one of the
doors slid open a little and two men came out,
closing it behind them.

They didn't seem to be on stag; they were far too
casual. Phil guessed that maybe they were the truck
drivers, come out to stretch their legs. Or maybe
they just weren't needed for whatever was going on
inside the hangar at that moment and would be
called on later. Whoever they were, they were stopping
phil from doing what he had to do.

The hangar was built from solid concrete,
designed to take a direct hit from a wartime bomb.
There were no windows to look through, just the
massive sliding doors at the front and a single metal
door at the back.

Phil had made a sortie towards the back and had
spotted the door, but before he got much closer a
couple of dogs started barking and howling. He
saw the police dog vans and swiftly moved back to
the cover of his own vehicle, knowing that his only
option now was to check out what was going on
from the front of the hangar. If only the two goons
standing outside would give him a chance.

He couldn't hear what they were saying – they
were too far away. All he could see was dim outlines
and the occasional flare of a lighter followed by the
glow of cigarettes as they chain-smoked.

Phil was considering giving the rear door a
second go, taking a chance on slipping past the dogs
without setting them off again. Then he saw a chink
of light as one of the two front doors slid open a little.
The two guys disappeared through the gap and
the door was pushed shut again.

The waiting was almost over, but Phil gave it
another ten minutes before slowly working his way
out behind his car until he was far enough
away from the target to cross the open expanse of
the runway.

He sprinted over and took cover behind the fence
protecting rows of rental vans and lorries. Slowly he
edged his way towards the target, avoiding making
any noise at all for fear of sparking up the dogs
again.

He reached the hangar, knowing that his only
option was to peer through the small gap where the
massive sliding doors met at ground level. He got
down and pushed an eye up against the gap – and
saw all that he needed to see.

The Mini was parked near the doors, but what
Phil saw at the rear of the hangar was far more
interesting. The two trucks were backed against
each other with their sides down. They were full of
machinery, and in each truck a figure in a white coat
was moving up and down, checking and testing.
Phil didn't know exactly what he was looking at but
it didn't matter. It was all clear enough – Freddie
was in one of the trucks, walking around like some
absent-minded professor.

The boys were in there making Meltdown.

'Clever,' breathed Phil. 'Very, very clever.'

'I want to speak to the Prime Minister. Now.'

Dudley wasn't messing around. He needed to
take action and he needed to take it fast, and that
meant getting the go-ahead for a second time from
the Prime Minister himself.

The PM was actually in New York for a conference
on global warming. Now that Dudley knew
the location of the DMP, he planned to do a little
global warming of his own, in a very specific area
north of Manchester.

A voice came back on the telephone. 'Connecting
you to the PM now, sir.'

Three seconds later, a much more familiar voice
came on the line. 'Yes, Dudley.'

They didn't waste time with 'good evening's or
'how are you's. Swiftly Dudley explained the
situation and made his request.

The Prime Minister's official work for the day
was over, but he wasn't sitting back taking it easy.
And he wasn't alone. There were private secretaries
and advisers listening in through a speaker to what
Dudley had to say.

Only when Dudley had given all the details and
made his request for permission to 'Go' did the PM
speak again. 'One moment, please?'

The line went dead. Dudley knew that the PM
was discussing the operation. His advisers
wouldn't be happy about using special forces on
UK soil again. The old airstrip was closer to the
third party than the abandoned warehouse in
Glasgow. If the news leaked out, the media would
have a field day, particularly if the operation went
wrong. The PM could even be accused of turning
the UK into a military state.

But he knew the risks. 'Dudley?'

'Yes, Prime Minister?'

'You are one hundred per cent certain you have
found the DMP?'

Dudley had never lied to a PM, and he wasn't
going to start now. That was why he was always
trusted. 'Prime Minister, I would not ask you for
permission to mount such a high-risk operation if I
did not firmly believe the situation warranted it.'

He waited again, and after less than a minute the
PM came back on the line. 'As before, this must be a
covert operation, with a complete cover story. There
will of course be no mention of either the security
services or the SAS.'

'We have two alternative cover stories fully
prepared, sir. Which one we use will be decided
upon following the action.'

There was another moment's hesitation, and then:
'Very well. Good luck.'

Nothing more needed to be said. It was on.

Phil kept a trigger on the hangar from his own
vehicle, while he liaised with the team commanders
back in Hereford. He gave them the precise location
and full details of the target. They needed all the
information he could give them: what type of doors
did the hangar have? What was the best approach
route? Were there any third party about?

Soon after that, the commanders had their own
pictures of what the circling. Predator could see, and
they watched on monitors and finalized their plan.

It was to be a smash-and-bang job, in and out in
fifteen minutes. The heli would land a little way
away from the target so that it wasn't heard – either
by those in the hangar or by the third party.

The assault team would then tab the 1K to the airfield
and wait for the order to hit the target.
Everyone inside the hangar had to be killed and
everything inside it had to be destroyed. Then it
would be back to the waiting heli for the return to
'H', and never a word said about the job.

Phil would inform the team if there were any
changes as they closed in on foot.

The flight was going to take little more than an
hour, but the actual attack might have to wait
longer. Dudley was still insisting on every aspect of
the operation being carried out at the same
moment, unless circumstances changed.

It would be difficult, but not impossible, and it
still depended on exactly where Enver Kubara was
taking the twins.

The Sikorsky was over Germany, heading north. It
was flying lower now, almost hugging the ground.

Less than twenty minutes behind it, the Cougar
pilot was doing the same thing, flying tactically low
to avoid being picked up by radar.

The pilot's voice came over the intercom. 'As far I
can see, from now on it's only farmland or forest all
the way to Russia. I think we could be landing very
soon – there's nowhere to refuel for miles. If they go
further east, they'll run out.'

Fergus looked towards Danny, Deveraux and her
team, wanting to be sure that everyone had heard
and was fully prepared.

The thrill of a first helicopter flight had long since
worn off for Danny. His head was aching from the
constant exposure to the aviation fuel fumes, and
like everyone else in the Cougar, he just wanted to
get on with it.

He was thinking about Storm, back in Barcelona,
wondering if he would ever see her again. She
would have discovered hours earlier that he and
Fergus and the twins had disappeared. Maybe she
was worried; maybe she had tried to contact him.
But Danny was glad that Storm was still in Spain.
He didn't want her anywhere near the firing when
it started.

Fergus and Deveraux were talking directly to
Dudley and had been given the news about the
DMP and the SAS CT team.

Phil's phone was on conference call. He had
instant communication with Dudley, Fergus,
Deveraux and the CT team commander. Even Mr
Monotone, still controlling the Predator as it circled
above Manchester, had been patched into the
system. All the main players involved in Dudley's
complex plan would know what was happening at
the airfield as soon as he spoke.

Ahead of the Cougar, in the Sikorsky, the interior
lights were dimmed and both Teddy and Will had
finally slipped into a fretful sleep. Storm was
dozing too, while Kubara was using a batteryoperated
razor to remove the stubble that had
sprouted on his face.

He looked up as one of the crew approached him.
They exchanged a few words before the crewman
returned to the cockpit, then Kubara gestured to his
bodyguard.

While the bodyguard went back towards the rear
of the aircraft and opened a locker, his boss stood up
and made his way over to the twins.

He reached down, laid his huge hands on their
shoulders and shook them gently. They woke
instantly, and looked up apprehensively at the
Bosnian's freshly shaven face.

'We are almost there,' he said, smiling reassuringly.
'Time to get ready'

The bodyguard came lumbering up the aircraft,
carrying several pairs of brand new Wellington
boots. Two pairs were green.

Kubara took the green boots and gave them to the
bemused twins.

'You will need them. Where we are going is very
muddy' He smiled again and nodded at the boots.
'Green for you. I understand the British upper
classes always wear green Wellington boots. And I
want you to feel at home.'

The Chinook carrying the CT team had touched
down in a field just over a kilometre from the
airfield. It was close to the motorway, but none of
the drivers passing in the darkness had a clue
they were so close to a fully equipped SAS assault
team.

Suddenly Phil's voice came through on the conference
call. 'Stand by! Stand by! We may have a
problem.'

Phil could hear the rumble of a heavy diesel
engine. It wasn't a good sign. It seemed that at least
one of the lorries was preparing to leave. There was
no way the CT team could reach the hangar to carry
out their attack if the vehicles were already about to
roll.

In Barcelona, Dudley listened; over Germany,
Fergus and Deveraux listened; in the field, the CT
team commander listened; and in his Portacabin,
Mr Monotone listened. They were all waiting for
Phil's next words.

'That's engine on.'

Mr Monotone came back as calmly as if he were
taking an order for a Big Mac.

'Engine on.'

Phil pulled on his NVGs and saw the doors to the
hangar slide open. Freddie was pushing one of
the doors and another guy was pushing the other. It
looked as if work was over for the night and everyone
was pulling out.

Phil could see the green shape of one of the
trucks. Its sides were up and everything had
obviously been packed away.

'They're leaving. We're about to lose them. Need
a decision now.'

In Barcelona, Dudley knew he had only one
option. 'Hit them!'

From now on, it was all down to Phil and Mr
Monotone.

'First truck moving out of hangar, two up – we
can't get them once they leave the estate. Splash it.'

'Roger that. Splashing now.'

Phil saw the laser beam shoot down from the sky
and hit the truck as it slowly pulled out of the
hangar, crunching through the gears as it gradually
gained speed.

It was moving away towards the exit when Phil
gave the command.

'Go! Go! Go!'

'Roger that. Go.'

Mr Monotone pressed a button on his console,
and instantly a Hellfire rocket motor ignited and the
missile pulled away from the Predator's wings. The
detector in its nose swished about, trying to locate
the laser beam it was to follow. It didn't take long:
after a couple of seconds the Hellfire tilted downward
and rocketed towards the earth.

Dudley had known there was no longer any
chance of a co-ordinated attack. He had to deploy
the Hellfires. The SAS CT team might as well
pack up and go home. All Dudley could hope
for now was that the attack would be swift and
final.

Phil waited. The Predator was far too high in the
sky for anyone on the ground to know that the
deadly missile was on its way. The laser beam
followed the truck as it moved along the airstrip
road, splashing over the sides as it broke up on the
roof.

'That's the second truck now pulling out of the hangar.'

The missile made contact with the first truck
about five seconds after locking on to the laser.

There was a brilliant flash of light and an earsplitting
thud. The shock wave of the detonation
made Phil drop to the ground as he saw the trailer
end of the truck lift into the air. It dropped back to
the ground and the whole vehicle exploded into a
fireball.

'Take the second!' yelled Phil into his phone. The
second truck!'

Mr Monotone didn't go in for long conversations.

'Roger that'

Phil looked up to see the laser beam move across
to the second truck. The driver had screeched to a
standstill just outside the hangar when he saw the
first vehicle explode. He was still in the vehicle,
obviously panicking, not knowing whether to put
his foot down or sit still or get out and run.

He didn't get a chance to make up his mind.
Within seconds the second truck erupted into a fireball
and the shock waves knocked Phil back down
onto the ground.

He could feel the heat of the burning trucks
against his body and when he looked up, he saw the
flames from the second truck licking back into
the hangar itself. He had no further need of his
NVGs – the whole area was lit up by the flames.

But there was no sign of Fiery Fred. Maybe he
was cowering somewhere inside the hangar.

Phil picked up his MP5 to finish the job when
suddenly the Mini burst from the hangar like a
Formula One Ferrari. In the light of the flames, Phil
could see that Freddie was driving, clinging onto
the steering wheel with one hand and frantically
dialling his mobile with the other. The number
he dialled didn't even ring. The phone was lying in
pieces on a Spanish road.

Mr Monotone came back.

'The Mini is getting away. You want that stopped?'

'Do it!'

The Mini was already being splashed. It was just
passing the first truck when the missile hit and the
vehicle jumped into the air, turning into a fireball as
it landed on its roof.

Mr Monotone was as cool as ever when he came
back.

'All targets destroyed. What's that noise?'

Phil smiled. 'Dogs. They're going ape-shit.'