Desperate Ground

by L J Morris

  ‘Delta One, clear.’

  ‘Delta Two, clear.’

  Team three slid open the window into the bungalow, it was empty. They checked the bedroom and bathroom – nothing. ‘Delta Three, clear.’

  Team four poured into the barn and past Mike Powell’s cruiser. They cleared the workshop and ascended the steel staircase into the offices – all empty. ‘Delta Four, clear.’

  The radio operator took off his headset. ‘All clear, sir.’

  ‘Bring them out.’

  ‘Yes, sir. All Deltas …’

  The men standing at the gate felt the rumble of the explosion a split second before the blast reached them. Halloran and Novak were knocked to the ground, dazed. Debris rained down on them. Halloran shielded his head and looked up the drive. All three buildings were now engulfed by an expanding, orange ball of flame.

  For a moment there was silence, as they tried to comprehend what had just happened, then all hell broke loose. The drivers of the vehicles, injured, tried to crawl away from the heat of the fire. Other deputies ran towards the flames to try and rescue their comrades. The radio operator tried, in vain, to contact the SWAT teams. The lieutenant screamed into his radio, calling for backup and medics.

  Halloran checked on Novak then got to his feet and surveyed the scene. It was like a warzone. There were more explosions as gas bottles exploded in the heat of the fire. Burning scraps of paper floated in the air, the roof of the barn was peeled back like the lid on a tin of beans, and the body of a SWAT team member hung from one of the windows.

  Novak stood with his hands on his head, mouth hanging open. Halloran grabbed the first-aid kit from the sergeant’s cruiser and took it over to him. ‘Come on, Pete.’

  Novak looked at him for a moment then seemed to snap out of it. He grabbed the kit and the two men ran up the driveway.

  * * *

  Special Agent Johnson sat with his elbows on his desk and his head in his hands. ‘How the fuck did we miss something like this?’

  Robert Tyler sat in the chair opposite and stared out of the door to the TV, which everyone else in the office was now crowded round. The scene on the screen was one of devastation. The news helicopter hovered over what was left of Quinn’s ranch. Fire crews poured water on the smouldering wreckage of the buildings. One SWAT vehicle lay on its side, blown over by the blast, the other was buried under rubble. Paramedics carried out body bags and lined them up on the driveway, ready to be taken away by the waiting queue of ambulances.

  Tyler shook his head slowly. ‘I don’t know, sir. There’s no chatter on the net to hint at something like this, no intell, nothing.’

  ‘The news channels are already calling it a terrorist atrocity. Saying we were duped and lured in. They’ll have somebody’s ass for this.’

  Tyler held out his hands as if he were pleading with Johnson. ‘But we weren’t even looking for terrorists. It was supposed to be about a shootout in a Houston motel and Quinn’s husband being killed in a boating accident. How’d we end up with this?’ He gestured towards the screen.

  Johnson took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘I don’t understand why they would target a ranch in the middle of nowhere. With this kind of expertise they could have taken out a shopping mall.’

  ‘Quinn is the CEO of one of the world’s largest defence companies. That might make her a legitimate target. Do you think she was in there?’

  ‘I hope not. I don’t want to see any more body bags.’ Johnson looked at the notebook on his desk. ‘Seventeen dead, two more not expected to live through the night, two with severe burns and four walking wounded. Jesus.’ He forced himself to look up at the television. ‘Okay, Tyler. Here’s what we do. You drop everything, this is your only job now. Use as many other people as you have to. I want to know where we went wrong, what did we miss?’

  ‘But I’d swear we didn’t miss anything.’

  ‘Then find me the proof. Get me the info that shows we did everything right. Prove that this came out of the blue, and if someone else missed it, get me their name. I’m not gonna’ let anyone throw us to the wolves.’

  ‘I’ll get right on it.’ Tyler stood up and made for the door but before he was one step outside, Johnson called him back.

  ‘Tyler.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Get Quinn and Sinclair’s mugshots out to everyone. I want them found, no matter what.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ He turned and went back to his desk.

  Johnson picked up the phone and dialled Halloran’s number.

  ‘Yes, Boss.’

  ‘You okay, Kurt?’

  ‘A few scratches and some ringin’ in my ears, other than that, I’m fine.’

  ‘That’s good to hear. They find anything yet?’

  Halloran stubbed out his cigarette against the gate post. ‘A little, it looks like the blast came from a large amount of Semtex, coupled with ANFO and gas canisters, a favourite of terrorists all over the world. Not much else to go on so far.’

  ‘I want you to stay there, keep an eye on things, especially the other agencies. Someone must have known about something this big. Homeland Security, NSA, CIA. Let’s see who turns up. Anything you need, Kurt, you contact me direct.’

  ‘I’ll phone you in a few hours, Boss. The crime scene guys should have something by then.’

  Halloran watched as another body bag came out of the barn. Whoever had done this was no small-time operator. It took a lot of explosives and knowhow to pull off something this big. They had rigged it so the SWAT teams were all the way inside the buildings before they blew. They went for maximum casualties. Halloran had a feeling that this wasn’t the main event. Quinn was caught up in something big, and things were about to get a whole lot worse.

  He took out another cigarette and flicked open his Zippo. His hands were shaking; he was chain smoking and he needed a glass of something strong.

  ‘You okay, Kurt?’

  Novak had been standing beside him and he hadn’t even noticed. Halloran lit his cigarette. ‘Yeah. I could use a drink.’

  ‘You and me both, buddy. When this is over we’ll go and sink a couple.’

  Halloran patted Novak on the back. ‘That’s a deal, Pete.’

  Chapter 18

  Danny Kinsella rushed through the hotel’s reception and into the lift. He could have just phoned Carter but, and maybe he was being a little paranoid, this was the kind of thing security agencies were on the lookout for.

  The lift stopped with a jolt on the third floor. The doors opened with a ping and he hurried out. Carter was in room thirty-eight at the end of the corridor. He tapped on the door; he didn’t want to announce his arrival to the other guests. There was no answer. He tried again; still no answer. This time he hammered on the door, checking up and down the corridor for anyone watching. No one was interested in him. He heard the sound of the door being unlocked and when Carter opened it he pushed past him into the room.

  ‘What is it, Danny? What’s happened?’ It was obvious to Carter that something serious was wrong.

  ‘Close the door, Simeon.’

  As Carter closed the door, Kinsella picked up the remote for the television and turned on the twenty-four-hour news channel. The sports correspondent was just handing back to the studio.

  ‘What are we looking for?’

  ‘Wait. It’ll be on again in a minute. They’ve been running it all morning.’

  The news anchor shuffled his papers and looked straight at the camera. ‘Back to our main news story. A massive explosion in the United States claims the lives of at least seventeen people.’

  The screen showed the footage, from the helicopter, of the carnage at the ranch.

  ‘Authorities say that the death toll may still rise.’

  The helicopter focussed on the body bags being loaded into the queue of ambulances.

  ‘We have unconfirmed reports that a police assault was underway when the explosion occurred.’

  The camera zoomed
in on the two SWAT assault vehicles.

  ‘Experts say that this bears all the hallmarks of a terrorist attack. The president will make a statement later today.’

  The report ended with stock film of the US president giving a press conference.

  Kinsella looked at Carter and gestured towards the television. ‘That, is what’s left of Quinn’s ranch.’

  Carter sat down on the bed, his hand on his forehead. ‘What happened?’

  ‘We knew the FBI was getting involved. They asked the local sheriff’s office to assist. It seems they sent a deputy over to Quinn’s and he hasn’t been seen since.’

  ‘You think Bazarov killed him?’

  ‘It looks like it. A police car was found in the barn and the deputy is listed as one of the dead.’

  Carter felt sick. ‘It said the police were making an assault at the time.’

  ‘That’s right. The FBI was still interested in Sinclair and the locals were looking for their deputy. When they couldn’t get any answer at the ranch, they got a warrant and went in.’

  ‘And the place was rigged to blow?’

  ‘No one knows what actually happened, but the explosives didn’t go off until the SWAT teams were well inside the buildings. Bazarov wanted to cause maximum damage and casualties.’

  Carter dropped his head and stared at his feet. ‘Are McGill and Sinclair on the list of the dead?’ He looked up at Kinsella, willing the answer to be no.

  ‘They aren’t on the list so far, but there are two unidentified bodies.’

  ‘Shit, I hope it’s not them.’ As he spoke, a picture of Sinclair appeared on the television. It was the photo from the motel shootout. They both stared at the screen and Carter stood up.

  The news anchor came back on. ‘Police say they want to speak to this woman in connection with the explosion but did not confirm if she was a suspect or a witness.’

  He moved on to the next story and Kinsella switched off the television. ‘They didn’t mention her name or show a better picture.’

  ‘They’re not sure if it’s her. They don’t want to get caught up in a wild goose chase only to find out it’s someone else. They’ll sit on that info for now. We need to head this off before the news channels drop her in it.’

  ‘What do we do?’

  ‘You get back to your flat and keep an eye on how things are progressing. Let me know straight away if anything changes.’

  ‘And you?’

  Carter’s phone bleeped, it was a message from Lancaster. ‘I’ll meet with Edward. He must have picked up on events.’

  * * *

  Carter sat in the window seat of a coffee shop round the corner from the hotel. It was only a short walk from Vauxhall Cross and Lancaster told him he would be straight there. When Carter had contacted his old friend, he’d used the code word that had begun all of this: Broadsword. It would let Lancaster know that it was important.

  Carter stirred his coffee and watched out of the window as the city’s young professionals hurried past, oblivious to the world around them. Things had changed since he was a young man coming to London for the first time. No one said hello or good morning any more. They barely acknowledged each other’s existence. Most of them were more focussed on the device in the palm of their hand – their link to the virtual world. He was surprised more of them weren’t mown down by the traffic, or blindsided by the cyclists who weaved between the cars and occasionally mounted the pavement to skirt round a red light.

  The streets had lost all of their character. The shops were all famous high-street names, the same brands that could be seen filling the streets of most other major cities in the world. Even the coffee shops; he could remember when this one was a café, and your choice was tea or coffee with a bacon roll or a cake. Now, he couldn’t keep track of the numerous types of coffee that were on the menu, there was no tea in sight, and the food was all expensive designer sandwiches and vegan friendly nut bars. People sat at tables for one, typing on their laptop keyboards. There were only a handful of tables with more than one person sitting at them, and most of the conversation was over mobile phones. This wasn’t an ideal place for a meeting but it would have to do.

  Lancaster stepped in off the street and walked to the counter. He didn’t really want a coffee – what he really wanted was a large Scotch – but it would have looked strange if he hadn’t ordered one. He picked up his cup and joined Carter at the table. ‘It’s been a bad day, Simeon. Don’t make it worse by telling me we caused this.’

  Carter checked that no one was trying to eavesdrop, and kept his voice low. ‘I haven’t heard from either McGill or Sinclair. I don’t even know if they’re still alive. What I do know is this. Wherever they are, if they’re able, they’ll be working to stop Bazarov. We have to give them time.’

  ‘It’s inevitable that the Americans will ask us for information on Sinclair. What do I tell them? “We’ve been operating in your backyard and may have caused this morning’s attack”?’

  ‘You don’t have to tell them anything yet. Just give them a back story that covers her military past – that’s not a secret. Remember, Edward, you approached me to recruit Sinclair and McGill so you could officially deny any involvement.’

  Lancaster took a sip of his coffee and shook his head. ‘I couldn’t just abandon them like that.’

  ‘We don’t have to abandon them. Just drip-feed the Americans some information until we figure out how big this thing is.’

  ‘You mean it could get worse?’

  ‘I think this is a diversion. I think Bazarov has something else planned, something to do with Leatherback Cay.’

  ‘But you analysed the information, said there was no threat. You thought Bazarov was just milking Quinn for information to sell on.’

  Carter checked again for eavesdroppers. He was aware this conversation was getting too in-depth for the location they were in. A young girl got up from her seat and pushed past their table on her way to the counter. Carter gave her a smile and waited until she was out of earshot. ‘We came to that conclusion based on what we had, but this morning’s events change that.’

  ‘You can say that again, Simeon.’

  ‘If we tell the Americans everything now they won’t hold back. They’ll steam in with all guns blazing.’

  ‘But that would be a good thing, it would stop this dead.’

  ‘Not necessarily, Edward. Bazarov may already be capable of launching whatever kind of attack he’s planning. If the Americans get gung-ho and pile in, he could do something even more drastic before they take him out.’

  ‘We could explain that to them. Tell them to hold off.’

  ‘That’s not likely to work. They’ve just suffered what the press are calling “a terrorist atrocity”. Any clue to the culprit and it’ll be Afghanistan and Iraq all over again.’

  This time, Lancaster was checking for anyone paying too much attention to them. He needn’t have worried. All the other customers were lost in their virtual worlds. Even so, both men were now leaning forwards, inches from each other. ‘We all learned lessons after 9/11, no one is going to invade a country again just to get one man.’

  ‘But it isn’t a country, Edward, it’s a private army holed up on a small island in the Caribbean. The Americans could carpet bomb it and kill everyone, including McGill and Sinclair.’

  Lancaster sighed and stared into his coffee. ‘I want to give them every chance to survive this but we can only protect them so far. We can’t risk more deaths in the states if we have information that could stop them.’

  ‘If the Americans take out Bazarov, we’ll never know how vulnerable the Kraken is. That could cause us problems in the future. He could have sold that data on already.’

  ‘What do we do, Simeon? I need your advice on this one.’

  ‘Just tell the ministry to delay the Kraken contract. Tell them it’s because of recent events and Quinn’s involvement. Maybe that’ll start the US looking into the possible threat. In the meantime, McGi
ll and Sinclair can find out what Bazarov has in mind and get out of there. After that, a handful of cruise missiles could take care of the Russian.’

  Lancaster nodded, mulling over his options. ‘That makes sense. I can buy them a couple of days, but that’s it.’

  ‘That’ll be enough. If they haven’t been in touch by then, and things have moved on, we’ll have to come clean and pass on the file to the yanks.’

  Lancaster pushed his coffee to one side, it was cold anyway. He stood up and placed his hand on Carter’s shoulder. ‘Stay in touch, my friend. Things could change fast. We need to stay on top of it.’

  Carter patted Lancaster’s hand. ‘I will. Take care of yourself, Edward.’

  Lancaster walked past the counter and out of the door. Carter watched him disappear down the street and drained his own cold coffee, regretting it immediately and grimacing at the taste.

  Outside, he fastened his coat and thrust his hands into his pockets. He knew Sinclair and McGill were still out there somewhere. He had to do everything to bring them home. He looked right, in the direction of his hotel. The best place for him to be now was with Kinsella. As soon as anything happened, Carter needed to know straight away. He turned left and set off towards Danny’s flat.

  Chapter 19

  The Lone Star Golf Resort and Spa was four hundred acres of lush green fairways and woodland a few miles south west of Houston. An oasis of green surrounded by the sunburned brown scrub, and flat, featureless farmland of the plains. An exclusive resort where Houston’s great and good, and above all wealthy, came to relax. Rich white men played a few holes while their wives were pampered in the spa. Powerful men spent weekends with their mistresses and bored trophy wives had secret liaisons with their younger boyfriends.

  Admiral James D. Garrison was a fully-fledged member of the elite. The second son of a Texas oil billionaire, he’d risen to the top of the US Navy – more down to luck and his father’s contacts than any real talent. He was a man who liked being in a position of power and enjoyed, to their full extent, the privileges and perks that came with it. After a stint as a member of the joint chiefs, he’d retired and decided to run for office. Backed by his family’s money, his ambitions were as big as anyone’s could be. Governor, Senator, maybe even President Garrison. There was no holding him back – until the scandal had broken.