After throwing the TV remote on the bed, I go into Emily's room to get her school uniform ready for her and see if she needs any help. Her bedroom door is still slightly ajar and I softly push it open wider; she is already nearly dressed, not needing her dad at all.
"Is that the clean uniform I ironed last night?" I ask her.
"Yeeesss, Dad," she says turning towards me, her face suddenly scrunching up. "Dad, can't you put a top on, I don't like to see your scars and everything!"
I laugh. "I'll get dressed, then I'll get you some breakfast," I go back into my bedroom, sit on the end of the bed and concentrate again on the TV.
Chapter 3
What I see on the television news, while sitting on the end of my bed in my towel, is unbelievable, even for an ex-military man like myself.
The reporter, still broadcasting live from the scene, is in his early to mid-thirties with curly dark hair. He is panicked, bearing the look of a man afraid for his life, a look with which I’m very familiar.
From the corner of Marble Arch and looking down the length of Oxford Street, a police cordon with barriers blocks off Oxford Street’s nearest end. And it’s ominously empty of people from about ten meters ahead of him.
“At approximately 12.30 a.m. this morning, a fire broke out at what is described as a Secret Government Storage Facility, in some way connected to the Ministry of Defence. And it’s said that the fire caused the release of some kind of toxin, virus or disease that is, as yet, unidentified,” he says, his eyes wide and his raised voice showing obvious distress.
“As a precaution, the police have cordoned off a large part of the centre of London, with all roads closed and there is no access in or out from the cordoned-off area.”
“It is my understanding,” he goes on, “that the release is highly contagious but not airborne, meaning that whatever the release is, it is not in the air and cannot be breathed in.
“The Government has issued a statement informing all members of the public in the Greater London area to stay indoors, both inside the cordoned-off area and outside it until the situation is under control. So, wherever you are now—if you are inside, stay there, and if you are on the streets, go to the nearest safe place inside and remain there until further notice.
“The Government has also issued an order for all schools and other public facilities, all businesses and places of work in the Greater London area to close for the day. So, do not attempt to travel.”
Behind the reporter, the police at the cordon suddenly spring into action and start to open the barrier blocking off the access to Oxford Street.
The reporter stops dead in the middle of his report, his head turning slightly to the right; he is obviously looking at something. His lips keep moving slightly as if he is about to say something, while an audible rumbling comes through the TV. His head moves to the right slightly more, as if he is following something.
I know what is coming before it even appears, as I know the sound all too well. The television camera swings towards the source of the rumbling and from the left of the TV screen, a Challenger 2 tank appears, its massive tracks looking like they will tear up the road’s tarmac.
The tank rumbles past the reporter, heading directly towards the now open barrier of the police cordon. Immediately behind the Challenger, following in tight formation, come five Bulldog personnel carriers, each of which will be carrying at least ten combat-ready troops. The Bulldogs are then followed by two Warrior armoured vehicles, their gun turrets pointing forwards. Then more Bulldogs come.
An Apache Attack helicopter flies overhead slightly in the distance, providing aerial cover. The column keeps coming. There are other vehicles and personnel carriers in the column, more tanks and more Apaches flying overhead.
This is serious, I have no doubt about that now.
There is no way the powers-that-be would be imposing a curfew on the whole of Greater London and putting this much hardware and personnel into the middle of London if there wasn't an active, extremely high threat. For Christ’s sake, an armoured column is snaking down bloody Oxford Street for the whole world to see on television!
Reaching for my mobile phone and quickly unlocking it. I immediately press speed dial 2, barely taking my eyes off the TV; within two rings, the phone is answered.
“Good morning, Orion Securities?” Lindsay, one of Orion’s receptionists' answers in her pleasant voice.
“Extension 610, please.”
“Thank you. Please hold.” Thirty seconds later, Lindsay informs there is no answer from that extension.
“Morning, Lindsay, this is Andy Richards, security code alpha lima 97564. Please tell me, is Dan Atkins in the building?” Dan is now my number two at Orion.
Seconds later, she informs me that he is.
“Put a call out for him to contact reception immediately, please. Priority,” I tell her.
Moments later, the line clicks, and I hear Dan say, "Dan Atkins."
"Dan, it's Andy, report."
"Morning, Boss. I was just about to phone you. I have spoken to our contacts in the MOD and they either know very little or are not saying what was released from this secret research site. Only that it’s very serious."
"Did you speak to Colonel Reed?"
Reed wouldn't take his call, he informs me. Bastard, I say to myself. He had better bloody take my call; that is what he is paid for!
"Okay, Dan, what information do you have on troop movements and the part of the city in lockdown?"
"As you will know, the army has been mobilised, but how many troops is unclear. Our contacts have informed me that the city down from Oxford Street, parallel from Park Lane and Farringdon Street all the way to the Thames, is on lockdown. Other than that, I have nothing further to report at present, Boss".
"Thanks, Dan, I assume the necessary precautions are underway there?"
"Yes. I have called in all the bodies I can, and we are currently setting up both internal and external perimeters."
"Good, I'm going to make a few calls from here to see what I can find out. I'll be in touch," I tell him, and hang up.
Bloody hell, that is one large chunk of the city that is now effectively in quarantine, including Buckingham Palace and Westminster! What the hell is out there?
Looking down at my phone, I know Josh will probably be on duty with his regiment so I send him a text message for him to phone as soon as he can. He may be able to shed some light on what the hell is going on, and more importantly, I do worry about him. After clicking send, I start to scroll for Colonel Reed’s number, but Emily shouts from downstairs before I get to find it.
“Dad, are you coming to do my breakfast?”
It’s nearly 7.45am, “One second,” I shout.
I find Reed's number and click dial but immediately there’s a busy tone. ‘Shit’.
I throw the phone onto the bed and grab some clothes to put on, still in my towel. I elect to go with jeans, a casual blue shirt and hiking boots rather than a suit today. I grab the phone from the bed again and try Colonel Reed. Busy tone.
I head downstairs.
Emily is seated at the breakfast bar watching BBC News. She sees me and straight away starts to ask questions about what’s going on, like why are there tanks in London? I decide to be as honest as possible whilst trying not to alarm her too much. I have felt for a while that honesty is now the best policy with Emily; she is that much older now and I want her to be able to ask me questions, even if they happen to be uncomfortable ones. Apart from which, Emily is a bright girl, not fooled easily. I take comfort from the fact she trusts what I say and looks up to me, partly due to my background, so I can answer in a way that gives out the facts but keeps her calm and reassured.
I start to get Emily's breakfast ready, no culinary masterpiece but consisting of two Weetabix with a banana sliced on top and a small sprinkling of sugar, together with a glass of orange juice, prepared freshly from a carton.
While doing her breakfast, I explain to
Emily that there is an emergency in the city, that I am not sure what the emergency is exactly. I’m trying to sound as reassuring and casual as possible, and I say the police and army are there to make sure everything is okay.
Then I tell her that she will be pleased to hear the schools are closed all day, just as a precaution.
"But, Dad, we have rehearsals today… and spellings. And anyway, what am I going to do if you’re at work? It’s boring here!"
Emily has a fairly big part in the school play, Annie, and she’s is very excited about it.
"Well, Em, I am not sure if I'm going in to work today. So, we may be able to spend the day together. You could act out your bits for me. Or I can test your spellings. You choose." She doesn’t look too impressed by this news. I can only guess my choices didn’t hit the spot.
Again, I’m looking at my phone in an attempt to get hold of Colonel Reed, but just as I press dial, there’s a knock at the front door.
This time, Reed’s phone starts ringing. He had better answer!
Quickly going through to the hall and opening the door, the phone still pressed to my ear, I find Stacey waiting there on the step. She lives a couple of doors down from us, and she’s the daughter of Jim and Karen, good friends of ours, sorry—of mine. Stacey does have her own key, but always knocks when she thinks I might be home.
Stacey is 18, a lovely warm and friendly girl, a Godsend to me. She helps me with Emily, picking her up from after-school club when she herself finishes school, and looking after Emily until I get home from work.
This, unfortunately, can often be late, in which case, Stacey makes Emily dinner, showers her and gets her ready for bed. If necessary, she’s even put her to bed on more than one occasion. I am honestly not sure how I would manage both work and Emily without this girl. The arrangement suits her too; I pay her for her time—which can be too much time sometimes, unfortunately—and whenever Josh is here, she gets to see him.
Stacey has a rather large crush on Josh, this seems obvious to me. But he seems oblivious to it and to her, even though Stacey is a very pretty girl.
Right now, however, Stacey looks extremely worried standing here, on my doorstep, hopping foot-to-foot. This doesn’t surprise me; both Jim and Karen work in the city and she would have been my next call to see if she was alright. She comes in without me having to ask.
Emily jumps out of her chair as soon as she sees her, shouts "Stacey," and runs over to her, giving her waist a big hug.
"Colonel Reed speaking,” my phone squawks at me as I go through into the lounge for more privacy and quiet so I can concentrate.
"Hello Colonel, it’s Andy Richards. What can you tell me about the situation escalating in London?"
"Andy, I’ve been expecting your call, but there’s not much I can tell you, I'm afraid. We are still waiting for further information," he says in his deep, well-spoken voice.
I have known of and had dealings with Reed for a long time. His reputation preceded him when I first became a Marine, and then he was involved in various operations when I was active SAS.
Although a pompous ass, he is a highly intelligent operator who makes it his business to know all things of significance. That is why, when my boss and Chairman of Orion Securities, Sir Malcolm Cooke, made me Head of Operations at the company, I recommended Colonel Reed as an extremely useful asset. We should try to get him on the payroll of Orion, unofficially, of course, I’d said.
My normal tact with Colonel Reed is to treat him with respect and, to a certain extent to treat the man as my superior officer, just as if I was still serving in the British Army. Whether I was or wasn’t serving was immaterial; there was a rank-based etiquette you just never crossed, and it didn’t stop with discharge papers. I found that adhering to this, on the whole, has obtained the information we required whenever needed. Not that it’s been often we’ve had to call on him, but the occasional operation Orion’s been involved in has required some ‘inside’ information in order to get the job done.
This, however, is a different situation. An extremely serious situation is unfolding in London as we are speaking, and I need to know what bearing it may have on the company, but more importantly, on the safety of my family.
"Reed," I say, dispensing with Colonel, "please don't take me for a fool. I hired you for a very specific reason. You make it your business to know exactly what is going on in this type of situation. You are compensated very well and very discreetly to provide information when we need it and we expect information to be forthcoming when asked for, especially in a fluid situation as is happening now. Neither of us will benefit from that arrangement or that discretion failing."
The line goes silent and, just for a second, I’m unsure if I have overplayed my hand; is he going to call my bluff and hang up?
But then—no.
"N—N—Now, Andy,” he says. I have never heard the Colonel stutter before. But my ploy works, and the information comes pouring out like blood from a stab wound. ‘Andy, the…the information I have is that the release happened at a Top-Secret storage facility in the city early yesterday evening. The release was a virus, a virus in some way related to Rabies. Once the virus was released, the facility was very quickly compromised, resulting in a fire and in the virus escaping the facility."
"I see," I respond, "and exactly how did it escape?"
After a short pause, the Colonel speaks. "The staff became infected and some, somehow breached security and..... escaped from the building."
"How infectious is this virus and how many people currently have it?" I ask.
"The virus can only be transmitted through the exchange of bloods, we are therefore very confident of containing it quickly, but we have no current numbers on infected cases."
"Maybe it's time to leave the city?" I venture.
But the Colonel grimly says, "You cannot leave, there is a press blackout on this at the moment, but North London is now in quarantine and under martial law. Anyone inside the North Circular can no longer leave, the Thames and all bridges crossing it are closed. Anyone attempting to leave will either be turned back, detained, or shot. The Prime Minister will be making a statement to that effect anytime now. This is only a precaution, you understand."
"What!" I nearly shout at him. "How can they possibly quarantine the whole of North London? That would take the deployment of every member of the Armed Forces, home and abroad?"
"That is exactly what it is taking, Andy. Troops are already in place from every part of the UK to enforce the quarantine. As we speak, every serving member of the UK Armed Forces overseas is either in transit or awaiting transit back to the UK. All operations have been cancelled with immediate effect. Afghanistan, Iraq—cancelled. Our troops in Germany, Australia, Canada, the US, everywhere, are all recalled. Even seventy-five percent of the troops currently based in the Falklands will be back by 0900 hours tomorrow morning. On top of that, the whole of the Royal Navy has been recalled to base, apart from our submarines, for tactical reasons."
This time, it is my turn to pause and go quiet. I'm flabbergasted.
All I can say is, "They can't possibly move that many troops that quickly." But again, the Colonel has the answer.
"The Royal Air Force is, of course, taking the brunt and excelling, and the Yanks are—as always—pulling out all the stops to help, as much as secrecy will allow, as well as a select few other Allied Air Forces. Christ, even the French are helping, and we have chartered every private plane required, available or not. Oh, and the government has just re-nationalised Heathrow Airport which is now effectively our Forward Operating Base, to be called FOB LHR." With that, he says he has another call coming through. And he is gone, like the rapid blow-through of a gust of air that has left behind it a bad smell on the wind.
I am completely stunned and stand there in the middle of my lounge, staring into space, my mind processing. I quickly pull my thoughts together and focus, my well-trained discipline returning.
Chapter 4
<
br /> I go back to the kitchen to find Emily sitting with her iPad on the kitchen table, playing one of those online games, probably involving some kind of bird. Stacey is seated next to her in conversation on her phone.
Stacey sees me enter and hastily says into the phone, “Oh! Andy is here now,” and she points the phone at me, making clear it’s an order for me to speak into it. “It’s my mum.”
I take the phone from Stacey and put it to my ear.
“Hello, Karen.”
“Andy,” Karen says to me in a panicked voice. “I’m at the office with Jim; we got in early this morning because of that new contract we told you about. And now we are stuck here. Do you know what’s going on, apart from what they are saying on the news? We are high up here, but it looks like there are riots in the streets below.”
Instantly, I decide to tell them all that I’ve just learned from Colonel Reed. Their daughter is with me after all, and whatever is going to happen in the next few hours, I am now responsible for two young ladies.
“Is Jim there? You both need to hear this.”
I go back into the lounge and virtually tell them both exactly what Reed has just told me and how bad the situation is. They are both silent, speechless throughout and when I finish, there is still silence.
After a second, it is Karen who speaks first.
“Andy,” she says very solemnly, “can Stacey stay with you? There are my parents in Ruislip, but Jim and I would prefer if she stayed with you, wouldn’t we Jim?”
Jim speaks in the near background, agreeing with Karen.
“I know it’s a big thing to ask,’ Karen continues, but I cut her off.
“Karen, Jim, of course, she can stay with me, I was planning on it. You both have to be aware though, that I don’t know how this is going to play out and I may have to make some difficult decisions for us all. I will treat Stacey as my own and do all I can to protect her.”
Capital Falling Trilogy Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 2
