Capital Falling Trilogy Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Winkless, Lance

  Winters has entered at the end with the bigger numbers; the highest he sees is twenty-nine. Gradually, the numbers decrease as he drives. He takes it slowly, due to the number of people and equipment bustling around.

  Eventually, Winters parks up a few meters away from LZ1, and he stays inside the Defender waiting for his team to land. The improving weather means that the rain is now no more than a drizzle and the wind has continued to drop, although the wind is harder to quantify with all the downdrafts taking place in the busy landing zone.

  Chapter 2

  A strong side-wind hits the Lynx, causing it to shudder and lose altitude before Alders reacts and compensates upfront in his pilot’s seat.

  Staring out of the hold window, Alice is eager to see some sign that the flight is nearly over. She knows their return to base must be close now, but it can’t come soon enough for her or the rest of the team she has, no doubt, especially Josh. She is a reluctant passenger on any helicopter, not that she would outwardly show her anxieties—never mind her being squeezed into this overloaded one in a storm, having just seen one helicopter drop from the sky. This isn’t nursing that anxiety at all.

  Struggling to try to take her mind off it, she tries to concentrate on the view out of the window, searching for any recognisable landmarks to show they are nearly back at Heathrow. She is on the wrong side of the hold, though, and all she sees is darkness and nondescript roads. She curses her luck that she doesn’t have the same view of the M4 motorway that they will have on the opposite side of the Lynx.

  A wave of guilt passes over her, cursing her own luck because she isn’t happy with her view out of the window when Josh is seated next to her. Her head turns in his direction, but he is still slumped in his seat with his head down; God only knows what is going on in his head. Her guilt grows.

  Alice tries to think of something to say to him, to try and pick him up, if only a little. She fails though, as she can think of nothing to say that won’t sound totally lame. She hopes that when this godawful flight is over and they land, he might improve.

  Josh will have other things to think about, but then she remembers his sister is waiting for him and her father to return.

  Feeling helpless, her gaze returns to the window, hoping to see the burning lights of Heathrow come into view.

  “Heathrow is just ahead, ETA, three minutes!” Alder shouts from the cockpit.

  Alice’s relief on hearing those words is considerable and she isn’t the only one. The low voices which are all she has heard in the noisy hold start to rise and life starts to return. Everyone starts moving to get their kit together, and it reminds her of a commercial flight after landing and the seat belt light pings off. She is relieved to see Josh’s head come up as he starts to check his kit, instinctively checking his pocket to make sure the most important piece of kit is still there, and it hasn’t miraculously vanished—his phone.

  Sergeant Dixon seated next to Josh—and who has hardly said two words for the entire trip—reluctantly leans forward and fishes under his seat. Gradually, he drags out the cause of all this grief, the holdall containing the contents of Sir Malcolm’s safe. He leaves the large black, heavily laden holdall on the floor of the Lynx and with disdain, pushes it away with his boot, towards the door and away from him.

  “Downey,” he says to the next man closest to him, “you’re in charge of this.”

  Downey looks none too pleased with his new assignment of taking charge of the cursed holdall but reluctantly acknowledges his new task.

  Finally, Alice briefly sees the large buildings of Heathrow Airport come into view and the bright lights of the surrounding area before her view is cut off again. Alders manoeuvres the helicopter, turning south as his flight path is directed by air traffic control.

  Suddenly, the hold seems to close in on the team and everyone starts to feel slightly claustrophobic as they know their journey is coming to an end. Some of them get out of their seats with nowhere to go. They all get fidgety, eager to leave the cramped space behind.

  Parked up beside LZ1, Winters is also getting fidgety as he anticipates the imminent landing of his team back at base. He can see that the landing is imminent because a squad of armed soldiers has moved into position, encircling LZ1. He was expecting a welcoming party to be in place for the landing but admits to himself, he didn’t expect it to look so menacing.

  Measures have to be taken to prevent the virus from spreading onto this base at all costs. A huge gamble has been taken at Heathrow. The military has invested an inordinate amount of manpower and hardware here. Should Heathrow fall, it is difficult to see how London could be saved and should London fall, surely it would take a miracle to stop the whole country from following.

  Winters has played his part in formulating the plans and measures to protect Heathrow. They included these greeting parties, but times have moved on since those actions were implemented. New, nervous personnel have arrived on base. Personnel who have seen Zombies on their TVs and smartphones and have no intention of joining those ranks. The whole atmosphere on base has changed, suspicion and aggression becoming the norm and a shoot first, ask questions later attitude is coming to the fore.

  There is one positive and hugely important development that Winters has seen in a briefing. As if by chance, a miraculous new easy method of testing people to see if they are infected has been discovered. An eye doctor from John Radcliffe University Hospital Oxford discovered he could establish if somebody was infected by scanning their eyes. The algorithm he used has now been adapted and written into an App—and now, any phone with a camera above 16 megapixels can be used to do the eye scan.

  Winters is highly suspicious of how this Nobel Prize level winning discovery actually happened, but no matter; it means blood tests are no longer needed and neither is quarantine in most cases. That means that personnel returning to base can be scanned for infection immediately, and that includes his team.

  Winters checks his watch. Alders will be landing anytime now. The rain has all but stopped, so he decides to get out of the Defender to watch their arrival, he opens the driver’s door and starts to get out.

  “Stay in your vehicle!” an overzealous Corporal shouts in Winters’ direction.

  “Excuse me, Soldier?” Winters replies, taken aback.

  “Stay in your vehicle, Sir,” the Corporal repeats angrily, not backing down. “Until the landing party is cleared,” he adds, his rifle starting to turn in Winters’ direction.

  Winters pauses for a second, debating to pull up the Corporal for his insubordination. The second passes and Winters lets it slide, getting back into the Defender. He hasn’t the time or inclination to pull him up on it now, since he has more important matters to attend to. On shutting his door, he does roll his window all the way down, however, in part as a show of defiance but mainly so he can get a better look at the Lynx now descending to land.

  The Corporal and his rifle have turned back to the LZ, taking no notice of either Winters or his act of defiance.

  Slowly and deliberately, Alders brings the Lynx over and down towards his allotted LZ. Noise and wind start to billow through the Defender’s open window, bringing with it rain as the helicopter closes in, Winters ignores all three as he watches. The soldier’s heads that surround the LZ automatically duck, their faces turning away from the barrage as the downdraft reaches its peak and the helicopter nears touchdown.

  The Lynx touches down with a jolt. Finally, Alice thinks to herself as she is jarred by the landing, a small price to pay to be almost out of this flying cocoon.

  Dixon is up and pulling at the hold’s door handle almost instantly on touchdown, even before Alders has killed the helicopter's engines. Maybe Alice isn’t the only one hiding their dislike of helicopters—or is it the mission that has Dixon eager to exit?

  Another wave of relief passes over Alice as the Lynx’s door rolls speedily back and fresh air flows into her; she fills her lungs greedily.

  Dixon jumps straight dow
n onto the wet tarmac, but he is stopped in his tracks as he is ordered to ‘halt’ by the agitated Corporal pointing a rifle at him.

  “Fuck off, dickhead, I ain’t in the mood.” Dixon barks back at the Corporal.

  “Stay where you are Sergeant, or I will fire!” The Corporal ducks lower behind his rifle and takes a step forward, showing he means business.

  Perhaps the Corporal doesn’t realise who he is dealing with or perhaps the bit of power he has been given has gone to his head. Under different circumstances, he would know not to fuck with Special Forces, or at least show them a bit of respect. On this occasion, the Corporal has decided to play with fire, risking getting burnt and burnt badly.

  Dixon has played before and stays calm, even if he does have a slightly smug look on his face. He knows that his team is not going to let this pass, especially the members of his SBS patrol.

  Without noticing, his concentration focused on Dixon, the Corporal is already in the line of sight of two assault rifles. Kim and Collins have their team leader covered from the shadows of the Lynx’s hold.

  “Lads,” is all Dixon has to say.

  Slowly and deliberately, Kim and Collins stalk out of the shadows, moving gradually forward showing themselves and their trained rifles to the Corporal. The Corporal suddenly wishes he had played this situation very differently. His confidence and aggression visibly wane as he involuntarily takes a step back, surrendering his pride even further.

  “Tell them to lower their weapons,” the Corporal shouts with little authority.

  “You first, sonny,” Dixon retorts, scratching his chin.

  None of the Corporal’s team is showing any sign of wanting any part of this standoff and look nervously on, having zero clues what to do. There will have to be a good reason for the Special Forces operatives to stand down. They can’t have jumped-up regulars bandying around stories of how they faced down two Special Forces patrols, one SBS and the other SAS to boot. None of the men would let that happen and not just because they would never live it down.

  “Corporal, lower your weapon; that is an order,” Lieutenant Winters instructs the hapless man, who hasn’t even noticed his arrival at his side.

  “But Sir, they have to be screened.”

  “I won’t tell you again Corporal, lower your weapon.”

  Gradually, the tension eases as the Corporal’s rifle begins to lower, the man’s authority in tatters as well as his pride. Once his rifle’s aim is lowered away from Dixon, his team relax, and their weapons lower also.

  “Sergeant,” Winters says to Dixon. “Get your team formed up ready for screening.”

  “Screening, Sir?” Dixon asks, confused.

  “Yes, Sergeant, it’s the latest method to check that new arrivals haven’t been infected. All it involves is a scan of your eye, nothing to worry about—and the sooner we get it done, the sooner we can let these men get on with their jobs.”

  “And a fine job they are doing, Sir.” The unadulterated sarcasm is cutting.

  “Nevertheless, let’s get on with it, Sergeant.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Dixons replies before telling his team to form up.

  “Carry on, Corporal,” Winters instructs the beaten man.

  Josh and Alice are ushered to the front of the queue, mainly for Josh’s benefit. Both teams of Special Forces have lost brothers in arms on operations and that is bad enough. To lose your father on the same operation is beyond words and the whole team want to do what little they can for their new comrade.

  Josh, to his credit, is standing tall and does so as his eye is scanned by another member of the newly timid welcoming committee. Suddenly, please and thank you are the orders of the day. The overzealous Corporal stands to the side with his tail between his legs, thinking of excuses to save face with his men when his ordeal is finally over.

  Dixon stands at the back of the queue, still scratching his chin and eyeing the Corporal, prolonging his suffering for as long as possible.

  Josh passes the screening and walks over to Winters.

  “How are you holding up?” Winters asks him.

  “I’m not sure; to be honest, it’s a head fuck and I’m not getting my head around it.”

  “It’s early days, Josh, and for what it’s worth, your Dad got you and your sister to safety which is what he wanted. Also, for what it’s worth, he didn’t have a choice but to do this mission. He did it to try and keep you safe, so don’t hold it against him and don’t feel guilty about it either because I didn’t know him long but I do know he would do it all again.

  I know it might be too soon for me to be saying that, but I don’t know if I’ll get another chance.

  You don’t have any obligations to this fight now, Josh. You’ve played your part and I’ll make sure you are out. You’ve got your sister to look after now, so leave the rest to somebody else, that’s what your Dad would want. Is that what you want?”

  “That’s my priority now, although I don’t know how to keep her safe from this,” Josh tells Winters.

  “I’m not sure I can tell you either. If it were me, I’d get as far away from here as possible, across the sea if I could, but that will be easier said than done, I know.”

  “Do you know where my sister is now?”

  “Yes, they are in the First-Class lounge, I’ll make arrangements for you to be taken there.”

  “Thanks, I’ve got some plans and decisions to make.”

  “Yes, and I’m sure you’ll make the right ones,” Winters encourages.

  “Thanks, I hope you’re right.”

  Alice gets through screening and joins them to wait for the rest of the team. She doesn’t disturb the two men talking. Hopefully, Winters has found the words she couldn’t quite find. Josh looks as well as can be expected, better even, considering.

  Downey, with his unwanted package—the holdall—follows Josh and Alice to screening. Winters waits patiently as Downey has his details tapped into the phone and he watches as Downey has the phone held up to his eye. The miraculous new App zooms right in on the eyeball, scanning for evidence that the owner of the eyeball is infected. The App takes its time scanning before it snaps a picture of the eye and eventually ‘CLEAR’ pops up in green across the screen.

  “Clear,” the operator of the phone announces, and Downey moves past to join Josh, Alice and Winters.

  As soon as he reaches them, he lifts the holdall up, presenting it to Winters, eager to relieve himself of the burden.

  Winters gives the holdall a look of disdain, as if to say, is this what the grief’s been over? He then lifts his arm and takes the handles of the bag off Downey.

  “Thanks,” Winters says.

  “Your welcome to it, Sir, I just hope it was worth the cost.”

  “You and me both Corporal, you and me both.”

  Winters takes the holdall over to the Discovery, opens the back door and places it onto the back seat. He closes the door and turns in the direction of the Corporal in charge of the screening team.

  “What is your name, Corporal?” Winters asks the embarrassed man.

  “Harris, Sir.”

  “You have a job to do, Harris. That doesn’t mean you have to be a prick while you are doing it. Your comrades returning to base have been through enough shit without you adding to it. You can operate a tight security detail and do it civilly until it is time not to, understood?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “If you don’t think you can handle that, just say the word and I’ll have you reassigned to another detail.”

  “I can handle it, Sir I don’t know what came over me Sir, I apologise, Sir.”

  “Good, it is a very tense time, but we all have to hold it together, so carry on.”

  Winters salutes Corporal Harris casually as he turns away from him, and Corporal Harris returns the salute with vigour, standing to attention as he does.

  Finally, Dixon receives the all-clear from the mobile phone that was stuck in his face and he joins the rest of the team
, complaining and mumbling to himself.

  “What are our orders now, Sir?” Dixon asks Winters.

  “Mission complete, Sergeant; the cost has been great, too great and our thoughts are with the team members who haven’t returned. Captain Richards, Dan and Wing Commander Buck.” There is a moment of silence before Winters continues. “I have to get the holdall to Command so this is where we part ways. I have no further orders to give you, so get transport over to Terminal 5, fill your bellies and rest up, we will know where you are. Thank you, everyone.”

  Winters salutes the team, and they return it before Winters makes his way towards the Defender. On the way, he stops as he reaches Josh.

  “Again, I’m sorry for your loss, Josh; my thoughts are with you and your sister and if there is anything I can do, get in contact with me, here, take my number.”

  “Thank you, Sir, I will.”

  The two men shake hands and then Winters makes his way over to his ride, while Josh saves his new contact into his phone.

  “Right, let’s get this show on the road, I need some chow. Where’s my new friend?” Dixon announces as the driver’s door of the Defender closes.

  Corporal Harris hasn’t moved from his spot, although he has been joined by the other members of his squad. He knows that he should be sorting the new arrivals out and he will, but he’s just building up to it. He doesn’t get the chance to stall any longer, however, because his nemesis is walking in his direction. Harris finds himself trembling a little as the tall, rugged-looking Special Forces Sergeant with the scar across his face approaches. To his credit, Harris manages to pull himself together and moves off his spot to meet him head-on.

  The Sergeant doesn’t slow down as they meet, and Harris thinks he is about to be in a fight.

  “Ahh, there you are, Corporal,” the Sergeant says as he moves around to Harris’s side and throws his arm over his shoulder as if they were best of friends. Harris is both relieved and confused. “What do you say we forget about all this bad feeling, mate, and put that misunderstanding behind us. Life is too short, don’t you think?”