by Chris Ryan
11
Overruled
All eyes were on Hector. He sat at the end of the line opposite Max. Those sitting next to him – Lukas, Abby and Angel – had to crane their necks to see him.
‘Can you all hear me?’ Hector said. His voice was slightly scratchy over the headset, but it was clear enough despite the noise of the aircraft. Everyone nodded. ‘Then listen carefully. We have a situation in London.’
‘What sort of situation?’ Abby said.
‘This will be a hell of a lot more straightforward if you don’t interrupt me.’
Abby looked chastened.
‘At 08:00 this morning the Metropolitan Police received reports of a firearms incident at a London school.’
Hector let that sink in for a moment. Nobody interrupted.
‘What I’m about to tell you is a mixture of eyewitness intelligence from the site, information gleaned from drone cameras, and analysis by MI5. The school in question is the Ashley Road Comprehensive. It is situated about a hundred metres from the Russian embassy.’
As he said this, he caught Sami’s eye. Max glanced at his friend. Sami’s expression was suddenly very hard. Hector moved on quickly. ‘How many of you have heard of Chechnya?’ He held up one hand. ‘Don’t answer that. I’m going to brief you about the situation anyway. The Chechen Republic is part of the Russian Federation. Chechen nationalists want their country to be separate from Russia. There is a long history of conflict between the two, but we’re not here to take sides. Today is the final day of a Russian state visit to the UK. You may have read about it. There have been protests and some unrest by Chechens and those sympathetic to their cause. We believe that the situation at Ashley Road is linked to this’
‘You mean, the gunmen are Chechen separatists?’ Max said over the comms system.
‘I thought we agreed I was going to talk and you were going to listen,’ Hector replied.
Max flushed.
‘But that is correct. What we have now is a siege situation. We think the Chechens have staged the siege to protest against the Russian state visit. The siege occurred a little before the school day started. Not all the pupils and teachers had arrived. There are approximately two hundred and fifty children between the ages of ten and sixteen, along with eight teachers, being held at gunpoint in the school. They include a group of Chinese exchange students. This makes the politics even more sensitive.’
Hector paused. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, as though gathering his thoughts. He was obviously very tense.
‘You may have heard of the Beslan school siege in 2004. It was a similar situation. Armed Chechen militants took over a school in the Russian town of Beslan. It lasted three days. There were more than a thousand hostages. In the end, Russian forces stormed the school. They were unprepared and heavy-handed. More than three hundred people were killed during the rescue, many of them children. It will be unacceptable for that to be repeated here in the UK.’
The recruits all stared at Hector in horror. He paused again before continuing.
‘Professional hostage negotiators are on site, but the terrorists are currently refusing to engage with them. That means they don’t want a compromise. They want the eyes of the world to be on them and to understand their protest against the Russians. It means things could turn very ugly. The SAS counter-terrorist team are on their way. They are the best-trained, best-prepared counter-terrorist team in the world. But they have one big problem.’ He looked at each of the recruits in turn. ‘They’re adults.’
Hector let that sink in for a moment. There was a little turbulence. Nobody seemed to notice it. They were all staring at the Watcher.
‘If the SAS go in blind,’ Hector continued, ‘we can’t predict the outcome. We cannot risk the death of a hostage – and especially a child hostage – as a result of our rescue mission. We need eyes and ears on the ground. That is to say, inside the school. That’s where you lot come in. We want to put you inside the school so you can relay information about the terrorists’ numbers, actions and positions to our SAS counter-terrorist team.’ He looked at them all in turn. ‘It is very, very dangerous. This is a live situation. If the terrorists realise who you are and what you are doing, they will most likely start killing people. No prizes for guessing who will be top of their list.’
There was a silence. The Chinook shook with another burst of turbulence. Hector took a deep breath. He looked around the recruits again.
‘You are untrained,’ he said. ‘Raw. You are wet behind the ears. Frankly, none of you knows what you are doing. It may be that by the time we land, the hostage negotiators will have done their job and the situation will be over. But the chances of that happening are vanishingly small. I’m going to be honest with you. If this was my call, I wouldn’t be sending you in. The risk to you and to the operation is too great. But I’ve been overruled. You’ll find that it happens quite a lot. None of you will ever meet the people I take my orders from. They like it that way, because it means they don’t develop any personal feelings towards any of you. And that means they are more likely to send you into dangerous situations.’
Max found himself staring at Hector. The older man seemed to be revealing something new about himself. Until now, he had been harsh and unyielding. Suddenly, he had a glimpse of another side to Hector. A side that suggested he was more concerned about the recruits’ well-being than he’d previously let on.
‘Today is different,’ Hector continued. ‘It doesn’t matter what my superiors say. It doesn’t matter how much they try to overrule me. You are not yet officially Special Forces Cadets. You have not yet been badged. That means you are able to say no. If this operation sounds to any of you to be too dangerous – and I wouldn’t blame you if it did – say the word and you will be pulled. No questions asked.’ He sounded hopeful that they would do just that.
The recruits stared at him. For a good while, nobody spoke. Then, slowly, Max raised his hand.
Hector nodded curtly at him. If he had seemed to soften towards the others, he showed no sign of it with Max.
‘I thought you said me and Ash weren’t good enough,’ Max said. ‘What are we doing on this chopper? Why are we even involved?’
Hector looked from Max to Ash then back again. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘If it was down to me, you’d still be on the ground. Seems I’ve been overruled for a second time. My superiors have decided, in their infinite wisdom, that numbers are important. The more eyes we have inside the school, the better. If you say yes, you’re on the team. But for this job only. Don’t get any ideas that this is a second chance. It isn’t. Frankly, Max, it would be best if you said no right now. My superiors are making a mistake letting you near this operation. That’s my honest opinion.’
Max felt himself flush. He looked round at Woody and Angel. They were avoiding his gaze, staring impassively into the middle distance. It was impossible to tell what they were thinking.
He became aware of Ash, his companion in failure, raising his hand.
‘What is it, Ash?’ Hector said.
‘I’m not doing it,’ Ash said quietly over the comms. At first he appeared nervous, but as the others looked at him his nerves turned to defiance. ‘It’s mad,’ he said. ‘You’re all mad, if you do it. Armed terrorists? SAS teams? You reckon you can deal with that stuff just because you can run up a mountain?’
There was no reply. Ash bit his lower lip and clenched his fists.
‘Seriously,’ he persisted, ‘it’s crazy.’ He waved an arm at Hector, Woody and Angel. ‘They’re all crazy.’
There was no response.
‘What about you, Max?’ Ash demanded. ‘Surely you’re not doing it? You heard what Hector said. What’re you going to do, risk your life for nothing?’
Max narrowed his eyes. ‘It’s not for nothing, Ash,’ he said. He looked at the other recruits. Lukas looked unconcerned but Max reckoned it was a mask. Beneath it, surely Lukas was nervous as hell, just like Max. Abby bit he
r lower lip, though her eyes were fierce. Sami, normally so open and friendly, had an unfamiliar hardness about him. Max felt he understood for the first time what the Watchers saw in him that made him so suited for this work. Jack looked eager. Cocky, almost. He hadn’t endeared himself to Max so far, and he wasn’t making things any better.
But none of them, he realised, shared Ash’s opinion. They were quietly impressive as they sat in the belly of Green Thunder, clad in their camouflage gear.
They were also, Max realised, looking expectantly at him, waiting for his answer.
Max bowed his head. He realised he was scared. His limbs felt weak, his stomach twisted. He found himself thinking not of the school siege, nor of Valley House, nor even of the brutal selection process he had endured over the past three days. Instead, he thought of his room at the care home – the only place he really thought of as home. From here it felt safe. Warm. A million miles from talk of terrorists, sieges and automatic weapons.
It was also boring. Lonely. A dead end.
Max raised his head. He looked directly at Hector. Hector looked straight back.
‘I’m in,’ Max said.
He might have been imagining it, but as he spoke he saw something in Hector’s expression. It was almost like desperation. But in an instant Hector had mastered it. He spoke into the comms again. ‘We land in approximately ninety minutes,’ he said. ‘Ash will be escorted away from the team. The rest of you will receive further briefings on the ground. Prepare to move fast. The sooner you’re on site, the sooner we can bring this thing to an end.’
12
Covert Comms
Green Thunder was losing height. Everyone in the chopper was on edge. Including the Watchers.
There was a judder as the Chinook’s landing gear hit something solid. Max checked his watch: it was 11:15. The tailgate opened, letting in the bright morning light. For a moment, Max was confused. He could see rooftops and a vast cityscape. It was almost as though they were still flying. When Hector shouted at them to disembark, however, he realised they must have landed on the top of a tall building. Somehow that made him feel even more anxious.
Woody and Angel were already on their feet, carrying their flight case down the tailgate. Max and the others unclipped themselves. He, Jack, Abby, Lukas and Sami moved towards the tailgate. Ash hung back awkwardly. Max tried to move with purpose, hoping that it would give him more confidence. He was the first out of the chopper.
This rooftop landing zone was the highest point around. Max had never been to London before, but he identified the River Thames glittering in the sunlight. In the few seconds he had to look around, he saw landmarks he recognised from TV – the Houses of Parliament. St Paul’s Cathedral. The Shard. Up here, there was no sense of movement down below, of anyone hurrying. He knew it was just a trick of the height. They were truly in the heart of the city.
The sky was clear but the wind was high. It wasn’t simply the downdraught from the Chinook. The top of this building was buffeted from all sides. Max felt unsteady. He heard someone shout, ‘Get off the landing zone!’ Wind howled in his ears as he followed the instruction. He ran after Woody and Angel, who were carrying their flight case to the top of a stairwell at one edge of the building. The others followed. They descended several stone steps and went through a heavy metal door into the top floor of the building. Two military men were waiting for them at an open lift. Max, Woody, Angel and the other recruits crowded in. A minute later Hector joined them. There was no sign of Ash and nobody asked where he was. Max thought he could hear Green Thunder taking off, however. He figured Ash was still inside.
The lift took them to the ground floor in tense silence. The doors slid open on a large reception area that had evidently been cleared of any members of the public. There were glass windows on all sides, but they were blocked on the outside by six-foot-high screens. Beyond them, Max could see the blue neon flash of police lights. There was a distant sound of sirens.
Four people were waiting for them – three men and a woman. The woman took Abby and Angel to one side, out of sight. The men started to hand out casual clothes to the remaining boys.
‘Get out of your camouflage gear,’ one of them shouted. ‘But don’t start getting into these clothes yet.’
Max gave the others a sidelong glance. They were hesitating, clearly a little embarrassed about stripping. Max shrugged and removed his boots, jacket, T-shirt and trousers. By the time he stood in his socks and boxer shorts, the others had followed his lead. One of the three men approached him with a handful of wires and a roll of black duct tape. He handed Max a small box, no bigger or thicker than a fifty-pence piece. A black wire led from it. ‘Tape this to the inside of your thigh, beneath your underwear,’ the man said in a gruff, no-nonsense voice.
‘What is it?’ Max said.
‘Communications wire and microphone. Highly advanced tech. Only available for high-level military operations. It’ll allow us to hear what’s going on in your vicinity.’
‘Does it have to be placed there?’ Max asked, pointing down at his boxers.
‘Course not,’ said the man. ‘You can tape it to your nose if you want. But if you’d prefer to avoid being shot in the head, I’d put it somewhere out of sight in an area they’re less likely to search.’
Max gave the sarcastic man a sour look. ‘You a friend of Hector’s?’ he muttered, but didn’t wait for a reply. He tore off a piece of duct tape and followed the man’s instructions.
‘We need to tape the wires up your chest,’ the man said. Max threaded the wires through his boxers. The man tore off strips of duct tape and sealed the wires to his skin. He took another loop of wire and placed it over Max’s head, round his neck, and connected it to the first wire. ‘Induction loop,’ he said. ‘Okay, get dressed.’
The clothes he handed Max were exactly the right size. A pair of old jeans. A T-shirt and a threadbare V-neck jumper. Looking around, Max saw that the others had taped their wires to their bodies and were pulling on similarly nondescript clothes. Abby reappeared wearing jeans, a hoodie and a baseball cap. Max noticed that she’d removed her cartilage piercings. Made sense, he figured. They would have made her stand out. Her gait was slightly awkward. Max could tell she was wearing a wire too. He made a mental note to move as naturally as possible.
One of the guys approached holding something that resembled a matchbox. He opened it up. It was filled with cotton wool, and inside nestled a skin-coloured earbud. ‘Put this in your ear,’ he said.
‘What is it?’
‘Covert wireless earpiece. Invisible to the naked eye. Latest tech. Only available for …’
‘… high-level military operations?’
‘Right. You’ll be able to hear your controller through it.’
‘Can anybody hack into it?’ Max had heard that this was possible.
‘It’s what we call secure covert comms,’ the guy said. ‘Encrypted at both ends. It’s impossible to hack.’
Max took the earpiece and gingerly placed it into his ear. It was uncomfortable, and he felt sure that it must be very visible to anyone standing next to him. But the man looked and grunted in satisfaction before moving on to the others. The woman who had taken Abby away approached. She carried a pair of trainers. They were nothing fancy, and looked as if they had been well worn, with spots of mud here and there. She turned the left shoe upside down and twisted the heel clockwise. It clicked around to reveal a hidden compartment containing a razor blade and a small button compass. ‘You try closing it,’ she said, handing the shoe to Max. He took it and clicked the heel shut. ‘Put them on,’ the woman instructed. Max did as he was told.
The others were fitting their own shoes. Hector, Woody and Angel watched them. When they were done, Hector spoke. ‘It’s time to go. Follow me.’
They filed across the room to an exit guarded by an armed police officer. She gave the recruits a strange look as they walked past her, but said nothing. Waiting immediately outside was a white
transit van, flanked by two police cars. The van’s side door was open. The recruits and the Watchers entered and sat along either side of the van. Max noticed that they automatically took the same positions that they had on Green Thunder. Someone outside slid the door shut. Police sirens started up and the transit van moved away.
‘We’ll be on site in approximately fifteen minutes,’ Hector announced. ‘When we get there, you’ll be shown a map of the school and be given a final briefing. In the meantime, I’m going to give you a crash course in communications. You’re all wearing a wire. Once the operation starts, you’ll be able to hear the control room and we’ll be able to hear what you say and anything going on around you. Your microphones are very sensitive. They’ll pick up what you say, even if you speak quietly. But you have to use your head. If the terrorists see you muttering to yourselves, they’ll soon realise that something isn’t right. That method of communication is only suitable if you’re completely certain nobody is watching you.’
‘What if somebody is watching us?’ Abby said. She sounded stressed. Max was prepared for Hector to scold her for interrupting him, but he didn’t.
‘In that case, you speak out loud, but you do it in such a way that nobody knows you’re communicating with us. That means encoding your messages in some way.’
‘What?’ Jack scoffed. ‘You want us to start talking gobbledegook over the microphone and hope that doesn’t make people suspicious?’
Hector gave him a long look. The kind of look that could silence even a kid like Jack. Then he continued.
‘The trick is to hide the message you want to transmit in normal-sounding conversation. For example, if you want to let us know that a child is hurt, say it to one of the terrorists. If they think you’re having a conversation with them, they’ll never guess that you’re relaying information to us at the same time. Is that clear?’
They all nodded.
