Meltdown (19 page)

Kubara had considered making a run for it when
the firing started, but everything had happened too
quickly. One of his heavies had come to tell him
to stay put while they dealt with the attack.

The large room that Kubara had earmarked
for the laboratory was at the back of the building; it
had no windows, just artificial light – he had
wanted the twins to concentrate on their work.
But it meant that he couldn't see what was going on
outside.

He listened to the fire fight and cursed. In any
other circumstances he would have been alongside
his men, at the forefront of the battle. But this time
he had Storm to consider. She was infinitely
precious to Kubara and he would willingly have
given his own life for her.

The situation was bad, but not desperate. Not
yet. The enemy, whoever they were, had not yet
entered the building, and his own men were good,
hand picked. They might well finish off the
attackers before they even made it inside.

Briefly Kubara wondered who they were and
how they had picked up his trail. He shook his head
– he didn't have time to speculate now. He decided
that if they did get inside, this room at the rear of
the building would be his final battleground.

His personal bodyguard was still with him,
armed now with an AK47. Storm was standing
close to her father. She smiled at him confidently,
and he smiled back and nodded, attempting to
reassure her that everything would be all right.

The twins were sitting down, huddled together in
the furthest corner of the room, as far away from the
door as possible.

Kubara glared at them, brandishing his own
pistol in their direction. 'Get up!'

Teddy and Will scrambled to their feet, terrified
for a moment that the Bosnian was about to put
bullets into their heads.

'Move over there! Quickly!'

He motioned with the pistol, showing the twins
exactly where he wanted them to go.

Slowly they moved closer to the door, realizing
that Kubara was using them as his first line of
defence. If anyone burst into the room, the twins
would surely be their first target.

Kubara made sure that he and Storm were behind
the door if it opened, giving him time to react to
anyone appearing in the doorway.

The twins stood side by side, shaking with fear.
Teddy reached for his brother's hand and gripped
it. Tightly.

Danny moved from the doorway into a narrow,
dimly lit hallway leading to a corridor. His left hand
joined the other on the Sig. Eyes and mouth open,
he looked and listened.

He edged carefully into the corridor. To his left
was a door that must give access to the front of the
building: the sounds of automatic fire clearly came
from that direction. To his right, the corridor
stretched away with a number of rooms on each
side, their doors open.

As he moved slowly down the long corridor, he
saw movement to his right, in one of the rooms. He
turned, finger on the trigger, taking first pressure,
ready to fire at the centre of the mass that was
moving towards him.

It was Deveraux; her own weapon was raised in
exactly the same way as Danny's.

Their eyes locked onto each other, and then
Deveraux's head flicked to one side, telling Danny
wordlessly to continue checking the other rooms. It
appeared that finally, after all their conflicts, she
was prepared to work with the boy soldier rather
than against him in order to bring her mission to a
successful conclusion.

Danny moved forward, checking out the rooms to
his left. Deveraux was behind him, looking right,
but Danny was totally focused on what he was
doing. The fire fight was just metres away on the
other side of the building, but it was like something
separate, another battle, or even a dream. The gunfire
was strangely muffled in Danny's head, even
though he could smell the cordite that was slowly
creeping into every part of the building.

Danny was in automatic mode; the training was
paying off.
Train hard; fight easy. Train easy, fight hard
– and die.

He was approaching the end of the corridor. One
door remained, directly ahead. It was shut.
Something – instinct, training, intuition, he didn't
know what – was telling him that Kubara and the
twins were hiding behind that closed door.

He wanted to go in first. He had to take them out.
He had to see this through.

Deveraux was still a little way behind him,
emerging from the last room on the right. Danny
knew that once she reached him, she would insist
on going in first.

Suddenly the door at the far end of the corridor
burst open. Deveraux turned to see who was
approaching and immediately started putting
down rounds from her Sig. It was one of Kubara's
men. He ducked back behind the door and
Deveraux backed into the room on the right, ready
to fire again if he showed his head.

Danny knew he had to make his move through
the closed door. Now.

Danny gripped the door handle, turned it and
pushed the door open with his shoulder. He saw the
twins first, their petrified faces staring back at him
from a few metres away.

But then he saw movement behind them and to
one side. A weapon was coming up into the aim.
It was all Danny needed to know. His eyes fixed
on a bald head and wide eyes on top of black
leather as the target brought an AK up to his
shoulder. Danny's brain took in the information
his eyes were receiving in a split second. The
twins were not a threat, he realized, but the moving
head Danny was focused on could have been
one of the many red balloons he'd double tapped
during training.

It all happened in an instant, but for Danny it was
almost like it was taking place in slow motion. He
stood in the doorway, feet solid on the floor,
shoulder-width apart to give the weapon a stable
firing platform, left hand gripped around the right
and the pistol grip. Danny's Sig was racing the AK
into a firing position.

The foresight on the Sig came into focus, the bald
head blurred, and Danny squeezed the trigger and
double tapped the target. Both rounds entered the
target's head before he had time to fire his own
weapon. And this time it wasn't red chalk-dust flying
through the air; it was blood.

As the target fell back, the AK clattered to the
floor and skidded towards Danny.

Danny stared, knowing what he had done but not
thinking about it. He was masked from the left side
of the room by the open door, but the twins'
horrified expressions as their eyes flicked to their
right told him that someone else was there. It had to
be Kubara. But why wasn't he firing?

Danny kicked the door back and turned, pistol
still in the aim. Kubara was standing there, his own
pistol raised.

And then Danny caught sight of Storm.

His mouth gaped open. And he hesitated.

It was enough. Kubara started to squeeze the
trigger of his Makarov.

Storm screamed,
'No!'

There was a click. A stoppage. Kubara stared at
the pistol and Danny realized that he still had a
chance. But before he could fire, Storm leaped in
front of Kubara.

'No, Danny! No! He's my father!'

'What?!'

'It's true! I swear it! I couldn't tell you! Please!
Please don't shoot him!'

Danny's mind was reeling. He heard the weapon
fire from other parts of the building, but it was
Storm's words that were ringing loudest in his
head. It was too much to take in. Her father? It
wasn't possible. It didn't make sense.

Teddy and Will were backing further into the
room, away from Danny and Kubara.

'It's true!' yelled Teddy. 'Kill him!'

'Kill the bastard!' screamed Will. 'Kill him!'

Danny heard movement behind him – footsteps
coming into the room – and then, before he had a
chance to turn and take aim, rounds were being
fired.

The twins had spoken their last words. They took
rounds into the head and chest, and Deveraux kept
firing until their jerking bodies hit the wall and she
was almost level with Danny.

She ignored him completely; her head turned
and she focused on Kubara. Danny saw that Storm
was still standing in front of him, and he knew
instantly that Deveraux would not ask questions;
she would take them both out.

Kubara pushed his daughter away, still
struggling with the mechanism of his weapon.
Suddenly he gave up and lunged towards
Deveraux. Instinctively, Danny flung out his right
arm to slap Deveraux's pistol away and put her
off her aim, but as he did so, he lost his grip on
his Sig and it fell to the ground.

Deveraux was momentarily off balance. Danny
dived for the AK the bodyguard had carried. He
focused on the forward stock and the pistol grip
and rolled over on his right shoulder, gripping the
weapon with both hands.

He heard the double tap as Deveraux dropped
Kubara, followed by Storm's scream, and as he
came up onto his knees, he saw Deveraux taking
aim on her final target. Storm.

Danny fired a burst – there was no time to take
aim – and Deveraux was thrown forward as the
rounds entered her body.

A second later there was an explosion from the
other side of the building. The door charges had
been detonated: the team, or what remained of the
team, was in. The automatic fire continued, but
there was less of it now. It sounded as if the battle
was almost won.

Danny got to his feet and dragged Storm away
from the body of her father.

'You've got to go!' he yelled. 'Get out now! Back
door! Quick!'

'I . . . I can't. My father . . .'

'He's dead! Go now, or they'll kill you too!'

Storm's eyes flicked back to the body of Kubara,
motionless on the floor. Then she looked at Danny
again for just a moment.

And then she was gone.

Danny heard her footsteps fading away along
the corridor as he turned to look at Deveraux.
He stood over her, sweat dripping from his
face down onto hers. She had taken the rounds
in her legs and back. Her stomach was heaving
up and down as her blood slowly oozed out,
flowing onto the cold concrete floor and mingling
with the dead guard's and Kubara's so that it
looked as though all three were floating on a sea
of red.

Deveraux remained conscious as her life slowly
ebbed away, but Danny still had words he needed
her to hear.

'This wasn't how I wanted it. I wanted you to
suffer before I killed you. For Elena, for what you
did to her, and for what you put her through, even
before she died.'

Deveraux coughed, and blood appeared at one
corner of her mouth. She forced herself to speak.
'Get on with it, Danny. You've won.'

Danny looked down at her and saw that her eyes
were beginning to glaze over. He shook his head. 'I
haven't won. Elena's still dead.'

'Just do it.'

Danny took aim at Deveraux's forehead and fired
a single round.

It was over.

Somewhere in the building, a door crashed back.
The automatic fire had stopped and Danny heard
someone running down the corridor and a Brit
shouting out orders.

He dropped the AK and stepped away from
the bodies as the team entered the room. He raised
both arms – he knew the drill: get his hands up
so he was not deemed a threat and then identify
himself.

'It's Danny! Danny! No weapon! I'm weapons
free! It's Danny!'

Three months later

Fergus, Danny and Dudley walked slowly down the
wide staircase; portraits of past British prime
ministers stared out at them as they passed by, like a
guard of honour from the pages of political history.

Marcie Deveraux had been posthumously
awarded the George Cross, the highest possible
honour for anyone outside the military, following
her heroic actions in both Operation Meltdown and
the mission to eliminate Kubara.

The citation mentioned her gallantry, her outstanding
leadership and, ultimately, her death by
hostile fire.

Her funeral had been a small, private affair; it had
to be because of the nature of the work of the
security services. The medal ceremony would, likewise,
receive no press publicity, but at least it had
been conducted at Number Ten, and by the Prime
Minister himself.

He had presented the medal to Deveraux's
grieving but dignified parents and her brother,
who bore a striking resemblance to his younger
sister.

Danny and Fergus had not received medals. It
didn't bother them and it wasn't possible, anyway.
Officially they'd played no part in Operation
Meltdown. But the Prime Minister had made a
point of personally thanking them, and shaking
them warmly by the hand.

The even better news for Fergus was that his days
on the run as a wanted man were finally and
officially over. Not that Fergus could run – he could
barely walk; the walking stick he used now was
going to be a permanent fixture in his life. But at
least Dudley had kept his promise and the slate was
wiped clean.

Fergus, Danny and Dudley had made their
excuses and departed as soon as it was polite to do
so. They left the Prime Minister earnestly engaged
in conversation with Deveraux's brother as aides
stood by, checking their watches, waiting for the
moment when they could legitimately intervene
and usher the PM away to his next engagement.

Danny walked ahead of his grandfather and
Dudley, who were making much slower progress.
He glanced at the portraits of the PMs. They all
looked serious, severe, statesmanlike. And their
penetrating eyes seemed to follow Danny as he
passed.

He smiled. Perhaps they knew; perhaps they
could penetrate his secret. But they wouldn't be
telling.

The official autopsy had shown that rounds from
the AK47 used by Kubara's bodyguard had killed
Deveraux. No one was going to question whose
finger had been on the trigger of the AK; it was
obvious that they'd killed each other in the final
shoot-out.

At the foot of the staircase Danny turned and
glanced back at Dudley and his grandfather.
Dudley looked pleased: after all, Operation
Meltdown had been a total success and he had
finally been allowed to take his long-deferred retirement.
The knighthood would follow in the next
New Year's Honours List.

The destruction of the two trucks, the Mini, the
aircraft hangar, and the accompanying unfortunate
deaths had been reported as a tragic accident; fires
sparked by the explosion of a wartime bomb, which
had lain undiscovered for more than sixty years.

Dudley had chosen the wartime bomb story. He
had planned to use the 'exploding gas bottle'
explanation, but the bomb seemed more fitting,
almost like a tribute to the real heroes who had
flown from the old airbase.

As far as the Headingham twins were concerned,
they were officially listed as missing persons, last
seen at a football match in Barcelona. Mummy had
detectives working on the case – she wasn't going to
give up the search for her beloved boys.

The Meltdown formula was gone, destroyed with
its creators and their accomplices. The four trucks
had been tracked across Europe by various agencies
and those networks had been mopped up before
the shipments were destroyed. Dudley knew that
in some government laboratory, scientists would
still be at work on the few remaining tablets,
attempting to unravel the secrets of the manufacturing
process. They would want to know, just in
case some other brilliant chemist ever managed to
find the answer and then pick up where the twins
had left off.

But that wasn't Dudley's problem. He'd done his
job. To the letter. It had all panned out perfectly.

Dudley had been obliged to remove his muchloved
overcoat for the award ceremony, but as a
Downing Street minion approached with the coat in
his hands, Dudley smiled as if he was welcoming
back a long-lost friend.

He slipped the coat on and began doing up the
buttons. Fergus stood at the bottom of the staircase,
leaning on his walking stick, and watched.

'Four of these have seen me through my entire
career,' said Dudley wistfully. 'This one has lasted
thirteen – no, fourteen years.' He sighed. 'Don't
think they make them any more.'

They were ushered towards the front door and
Dudley led the way out into Downing Street,
nodding at the uniformed police officer, who
stepped aside to let them pass.

A car stood waiting by the kerb outside.

Dudley fastened the top button on his overcoat
and then looked at Danny. 'A very moving and fitting
ceremony, I thought.'

Danny's face gave absolutely nothing away.
'Yeah, I guess she died the way she would have
wanted to.'

Dudley held his gaze briefly and then nodded.
'Yes, I'm sure you're right.' He held out his hand.
'Good luck, Danny,' he said.

'Thanks.' Danny took the outstretched hand.

Dudley turned to Fergus and they also shook
hands. 'And good luck to you, Mr Watts. If you take
my advice, you'll slow down a little now. We're
neither of us as young as we used to be, you know.'

He glanced at the waiting car. 'Well, I'm off to the
tube station. They don't stretch to cars for me now
I'm officially retired.'

He nodded once more and then turned and strode
purposefully away.

Danny smiled at his grandfather. 'Want a lift?'

Fergus shook his head. 'Think I'll walk for a bit.
The doctor reckons I should keep this knee working
as much as I can.'

They were silent for a moment, looking at each
other, knowing that their long adventure was
finally over and that from now on their lives would
take completely different directions.

But Fergus had one final question. 'So, come on,
you can tell me now – what did happen with
Deveraux?'

'You know what happened,' said Danny without
a flicker of emotion.

'Do I?'

'Yeah. Exactly what it says in the report.'

Fergus nodded slowly. He could have been looking
at himself all those years ago. His thoughts
flicked back to the many times he'd ranted and
raved at his grandson about not obeying orders, not
sticking to SOPs. But he knew now that he was
wrong. Danny had learned well; there was nothing
more he could teach him.

Fergus smiled. 'You'll keep in touch, eh?'

'When I can. You know it might be difficult
sometimes.'

'Yeah, I know,' said Fergus. He reached out and
wrapped his arms around his grandson and held
him tightly for a few seconds. When he stepped
back, Danny could see that his grandfather's eyes
were moist.

'Take care, Danny,' he said quickly and then
walked away.

After a few steps he called out to the figure that
had almost reached the gates at the end of Downing
Street. 'Dudley!'

Dudley looked back and then stopped and waited
as Fergus, with the aid of his walking stick, marched
towards him, like a veteran at a Remembrance Day
parade. He was showing them that, despite his
injury, despite the years of conflict and action, he
was still strong. He always would be.

It was all about pride – in himself, and in his
grandson.

Danny watched for a few moments, then opened
the passenger door of the waiting vehicle and
got in.

The driver turned and looked at him. 'Go all right?'

'Yeah, it went fine.' Danny smiled. 'Prime Minister
sends his regards.'

Lee laughed and started the engine, and Danny
took out his mobile phone and scrolled through the
saved text messages until he found the one he
wanted.

Safe. Thank you. x

He knew he would never see her again; it was
time to make the new start complete. He pressed the
delete button.

The hydraulic steel barriers at the end of
Downing Street lowered and the vehicle moved
slowly out into Whitehall.

Fergus and Dudley were standing by the high
black gates. They both raised a hand and waved a
farewell to Danny and he nodded back at them.

And then the car turned right and pulled swiftly
away, towards Thames House, the headquarters
of MI5.

THE END

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