Soft Target (Major Crimes Unit Book 2)

by Wright, Iain Rob

  There was a sudden vibration followed by a clunk.

  Howard moved to a patch of weeds, kicking them flat. After a few moments he reached down and grabbed at something. He yanked open a wooden hatch, scraps of soil and clumps of mud sliding off of it.

  A gaping hole now lay in front of them.

  “Welcome to the Earthworm,” Howard said.

  Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Earthworm? What the hell is that?”

  “It’s just what we call it. Its real name is MCU Facility One.”

  “How many other facilities are there?”

  “None.”

  Sarah cleared her throat. “So why give it a number?”

  “Originally, there were going to be more,” Howard explained.

  “What happened?”

  “The banks collapsed. There were two more sites halfway-built but the economic crises meant that the funding for the projects fell through. MCU Facility One is the only site that got built to completion.”

  “So, this hole in the ground is… what? A secret base?”

  Howard smiled. “Why don’t we find out?”

  Sarah shrugged. “Sod it, I came this far.”

  Howard led her over to the opening in the ground, while Mandy stayed behind with the helicopter. There was a long staircase before them, heading deep into the ground.

  “After you,” Howard said.

  Sarah was happy to take the lead for a while. She was tired of following like a confused child.

  Howard pulled the hatch back into place above them and the sunlight disappeared. LED strip lighting illuminated the staircase, but there was no heating and it got colder as they went descended. Sarah began to feel claustrophobic. It felt like the walls were closing in and a hundred tons of soil was going to bury her.

  “You okay?” Howard asked.

  Sarah tried to take a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m fine, just not a fan of confined spaces.”

  “We’ll be at the facility soon.”

  “Good. Why is this place buried underground, anyway? Even MI5 has an office on the Thames.”

  Howard sniffed. “MI5 is known to exist, our agency is not. It was set up in response to the 9/11 terrorist attacks as a joint enterprise between the US and UK governments. Its purpose is to provide a jointly-run task force that can follow up leads on both continents quickly and cohesively. The US had three facilities of its own until recently, but this is the only one we have on our side of the Atlantic. We share whatever intel we have with the Pentagon, and they with us. There are no secrets between our two governments under the purview of this task force and we are a united front against all known threats to our nations.”

  Sarah clip-clopped down the steps, hoping to reach the end soon. “So, it’s kind of like a US/UK bromance.”

  “I suppose you could call it that. One thing we learned after 9/11 was that much could be gained by working in tandem, rather than pursuing only our own interests. President Bush and Prime Minister Blair agreed to commission the MCU and give it autonomy to act as it saw fit, answering only to the president and prime minister themselves. Of course, nowadays we answer to President Conrad and Prime Minister Breslow.”

  Sarah whistled sarcastically. “Those are some pretty swanky connections. You could probably tell me if Elvis is still alive, huh? What about Benny Hill, who did he leave his millions to? Is the New World Order a thing? Who is Keyser Soze?”

  Howard ignored her. They came to the bottom of the long staircase and Sarah finally let out a sigh of relief. Howard stepped up to a keypad and thumbed in a code. The console chirped back at him and then a round door slid aside into a hidden alcove. For once, Sarah had nothing to say. In front of her was a vast open space the size of a football stadium. Her claustrophobia disappeared completely.

  “Told you it opened up,” said Howard, patting her back. Sarah stumbled forward, her mouth wide open. She gawped at Howard, but he just smirked at her and said, “Welcome to the Major Crimes Unit.”

  TAKING THE TOUR

  “Welcome to the Major Crimes Unit.”

  Howard followed Sarah in, pressing a button on the wall which closed the hatch behind them. The ceilings were fifty-feet high with massive vents. Banks of computers lined every wall, while a desk, large enough to seat twenty people, took up the centre of the room. At one end of the desk was a large monitor.

  Sarah glanced around for people, but there was no one. She noticed that all of the computers were switched off. “Where is everyone?” she asked.

  “We have offices in the back,” Howard said. “Come on, I’ll take you there now.”

  Sarah followed Howard, taking it all in, but the more she concentrated on her surroundings, the less impressive they became. The equipment was not high-tech, as she’d first believed; the monitors were old CRT units and the desktops were square and clunky. A thick layer of dust covered almost everything.

  “When was this place built?” Sarah asked as they made their way through the rows of computers.

  “It was commissioned after 9/11, so it’s more than ten years old.”

  “And when was it last used?”

  Howard understood Sarah’s confusion. “The facility is bigger than we need. The team confines itself to a smaller section at the front. The reason we call this place the Earthworm is because it’s very long. We just entered through the tail; we tend to do our work in the head.”

  At the far end of the room was another hatchway. Sarah then realised that the area was not completely deserted. A lone security guard in black fatigues stood in the entryway.

  Howard nodded to the guard as they drew nearer. The guard nodded back.

  Sarah looked the man up and down, then said. “What do you do if you want the toilet? Do they give you a bucket?”

  The guard said nothing.

  “Do you have a bag strapped to your thigh?”

  The guard said nothing. Didn’t even look at her.

  Sarah shrugged her shoulders. “I’m starting to get the impression that people don’t like talking to me.”

  Howard inputted another code and the hatchway opened. The area that followed was far more confined. A narrow corridor branched off in several directions, leading to various doorways. Some of the adjacent rooms had glass partition-walls, allowing one to see inside, but Sarah was concerned to see that most of them were as empty as the ‘tail-section’ had been.

  “We’re still not at the head yet, I take it?” she asked.

  “No,” said Howard. “This is the middle. It’s mostly offices and research rooms here, and the infirmary is just up ahead. We have a doctor onsite who works there. Dr Bennett, you’ll probably meet her later.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  There was no denying that the Earthworm was huge, but it was vastly under-utilised. The middle section must have contained four-dozen empty offices and, while they only passed it briefly, the infirmary was large enough to handle a minor epidemic. The facility must have cost a fortune.

  Eventually they came to another hatchway, but there was no guard at this one. Instead there was a bulky CCTV camera hanging over it. Howard inputted another code and the door slid away. They headed into what Sarah suspected was the Earthworm’s head section. This area of the facility was warm, and scented with the heady pong of bleach and air freshener. A corkboard affixed one of the walls, with multi-coloured pins spearing notes and memos in a dozen places.

  “Some of us pretty much live here,” said Howard as they progressed. “There are dorms for those of us who want to use them.”

  Sarah frowned. “Bit unusual for a bunch of civil servants. Do you stay here?”

  “Not usually. I keep a place nearby in the city. Sometimes I stay here, though, if circumstances require.”

  “We’re near a city, then?” said Sarah. “Interesting. We travelled forty minutes from Birmingham by helicopter, so, assuming we flew around 130mph on average, that would most likely put us in Greater London, someplace rural on the outskirts perhaps. The drive here takes
you thirty minutes, so, with the traffic in and out of the city…” She put her finger against her lips and thought for a few seconds. “My best guess would be that we’re in Uxbridge, or maybe as far out as High Wycombe.”

  Howard’s lip twitched, which let Sarah know she was right – or at least close enough. For once, she was the one smirking at Howard.

  Howard quickly changed the subject and ushered her forward. “I suspect everybody is in the briefing room waiting for us.”

  Unlike the rest of the facility, the following room was high-tech and in obvious use. Paper-thin flat screens lined the walls, and blinking apparatuses sat on side desks all around.

  Three people sat around a glass table in the centre of the room, but stood when they saw Sarah. The largest of them was a middle-aged Asian man with a shiny, bald head. From the steel bracelet around his right wrist, Sarah made the quick assumption that he was Sikh. Beside him was a diminutive brunette, with impeccable make-up and a clean, white lab coat. The third person was a mousy-haired bag of bones. He had the gleaming, bright blue eyes of a child, and didn’t seem much older.

  They all flinched subtly when they saw Sarah’s scars, but she was so used to the reaction that she didn’t even let it worry her anymore.

  The Sikh offered his hand. “Ms Stone, thank you for coming.”

  Sarah shook the man’s hand but didn’t say anything.

  “I can’t say she came entirely willingly,” Howard said, “but we got there in the end, didn’t we, Sarah?”

  Sarah watched the Sikh man, clearly the one in charge. “Why am I here?” she asked him. “I’d like some answers.”

  “My name is Director Palu and I am in charge here at MCU. I assume Howard has shared at least a little about why you’ve been brought here.”

  Sarah shrugged. “He just told me we were somewhere outside London, near High Wycombe.”

  Howard spluttered. “I… I never — she guessed.”

  Director Palu waved his hand dismissively and smiled at Sarah. “Your guess was correct. We’re located beneath some fallow farmland owned by the Government. It’s considered a patch of wasteland to the public, so we’re relatively undisturbed.”

  Sarah was astounded a place such as this could exist, but she wasn’t about to reveal her surprise. These situations were all about power. The more she could keep them off their game, the more power she would have.

  “Please, take a seat, Ms Stone. Officer Hopkins and I will conduct a quick debrief and be right back with you. In the meantime, please fill out this Official Secrets Document. I’m sure you’re familiar with one. I’ll leave you with Agents Jacobs and Bennett.”

  Howard and Palu left the room.

  Without being asked, Sarah took a seat at the table opposite the skinny kid and quickly scrawled a signature for one Basil Fawlty on the OFS document before swatting it aside.

  “So, are you here for some work experience?” she asked the kid.

  His bony cheeks went red. “N-no, Captain. I work here. Well, sort of. I leave today.”

  “Leave? Bit young for a career change, aren’t you?”

  “I’m twenty-four.” He glanced down at the table. Sarah wondered if he couldn’t face her scars. “I’m not really cut out for this place,” he muttered. “I tried, but…”

  “But what?”

  “But he screwed up,” said the pretty brunette in the lab coat. She had an American accent that reminded Sarah of her late husband’s Floridian drawl. “He screwed up lot.”

  The kid blushed a deeper shade of red.

  “What’s your name?” Sarah asked. For some reason the kid interested her.

  “His name is Bradley Jacobs,” answered the American woman.

  “And what’s your name, sweetheart?” Sarah asked the American woman.

  “My name is Dr Jessica Bennett, not sweetheart.”

  “Oh, so you’re Bennett. Look, doctor, I understand that being a git is all the rage in medicine thanks to Hugh Laurie and Dr Becker, but I’m trying to have a conversation with Bradley here and all I can hear is your yap.”

  Dr Bennett shot up from her chair and slapped her palms down on the glass table. She glared at Sarah, but couldn’t keep her gaze for more than a few seconds.

  Sarah scowled, to make her scars that bit uglier.

  The doctor stormed out of the room, leaving Sarah to fix her gaze on Bradley. The kid struggled to keep eye contact with her. “Do my scars frighten you?” she asked.

  “What? No! Why would they?”

  “Because it looks like someone lit my face on fire and then wiped their arse with it.”

  “No, it doesn’t. You just look…different. Anyway, your scars don’t bother me, but they obviously bother you, though.”

  Sarah sniffed, a little surprised by the comeback. The kid had deflected her button-pushing and prodded back at hers. “So, why are you leaving?” she asked, trying a different tact. “Did you really screw up that badly?”

  Bradley nodded. “I froze in the field. I was with Agent Hopkins, trying to find intel on a target. We were investigating an old warehouse when a group of men drew on us. I froze and was too late shouting a warning. If it wasn’t for the strike team with us, Howard probably would’ve got shot.”

  Sarah shrugged. “It happens, kid. Especially the first time.”

  “It was my second time. I’ve frozen twice when it matters. I’m going to get someone killed if I don’t leave. I’m just waiting for the clearances; today should be my last day.”

  Sarah almost felt sorry for Bradley. The kid had a moral centre clear for all to see, but obviously lacked any confidence in himself. Maybe his father was an overbearing bastard as well. “How did you ever end up in this place?” she asked him.

  “My father.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “I figured.”

  “He was a physicist, worked on some of Britain’s first nuclear power plants. He wanted me to do physics, too, so I did – even got into Cambridge. I specialised in nuclear physics and wrote a paper on the application of nuclear components for the purposes of terrorism. Long story short, the paper raised some questions with the Government’s counter-terrorism officers and I was headhunted to join MCU as a theoretical consultant. At first I thought I was going to be like James Bond, but it soon became pretty obvious that the last thing I am is a hero.”

  “There’s no such thing as heroes,” Sarah told him. “Heroes exist in storybooks to convince us that humanity isn’t made up of selfish pricks.”

  Bradley shook his head. “I don’t believe that. Deep down, I don’t believe you do either, Captain.”

  Sarah stared at the kid and couldn’t help but laugh at his defiant positivity. “All I have deep down is an ulcer. You should stop trying to find the best in people. An attitude like that won’t do you any favours.”

  Bradley shrugged. “You’re probably right. At least I’m getting out of here soon. You’ll make a good replacement.”

  Sarah blanched. “What?”

  Bradley shrugged. “I assume Howard brought you here to replace me. Today is my last day and they’ve got you here. I don’t imagine it’s a coincidence.”

  “I came here to help out with a single matter. I don’t plan on giving you people more than an afternoon of my time. You’ll have to forgive me if working for the Government isn’t exactly an appealing prospect to me.”

  “Maybe I’m wrong,” said Bradley. “To tell you the truth, nobody’s told me anything since I decided to leave.”

  Sarah’s expression softened, at least as much as her scars would allow. She knew how it felt to be abandoned by superiors.

  Director Palu and Howard re-entered the room, taking a seat at the table. When Palu realised someone was missing, he frowned. “Did Dr Bennett introduce herself before leaving?”

  “Yes,” Sarah said, “she showed me pictures of all her cats.”

  Palu chuckled. “Yes, Jessica certainly does love her cats. Her little children, she calls them.”

  S
arah grinned. “So, are you going to tell me why you dragged me here like a bunch of cold war spies, or am I going to have to beat it out of someone?”

  “Don’t think that worked out too well for you last time,” said Howard, mocking her. “How many times did I knock you down?”

  Sarah chuckled. “I like to go a few rounds before knocking the other guy out. You’ll learn that about me, Howie.”

  Palu let his meaty hands drop to the table, capturing their attention. “Perhaps we should get to the main thrust of things. You’re no doubt curious as to why we brought you here, Ms Stone.”

  “Your powers of deduction astound me. I can see why they put you in charge.”

  Palu sniffed and a brief glimmer of frustration shimmered across his face. Sarah smiled, pleased that she was getting on his nerves so easily. She couldn’t help but prod at authority.

  “You’re aware of the explosion in Knutsford this past Sunday,” Palu said.

  Sarah nodded.

  “The man responsible is an ex postal worker named Jeffrey Blanchfield. It is believed he had some sort of grudge. He was recently widowed, losing his wife to a massive heart attack. Police reports suggest Jeffrey and his wife were having ongoing issues with their neighbours and local youths. There were reports of vandalism, threats, and regular noise complaints.

  “After Jeffrey’s wife died, he blamed the local youths for her death and confronted them. They responded by cracking his jaw and leaving him with a broken hip. Six months later Jeffrey blows up a village fete two miles from his home.”

  “Good for him,” Sarah said, but immediately regretted it. It was a stupid thing to say. Even Bradley moaned at the insensitivity of it.

  Palu stared at her. “Forty people dead, Ms Stone. Another eighty injured. It was one of the worst terrorist attacks in our country’s history.”

  Sarah almost apologised, but decided there was little to be gained from it. “An old man with a vendetta does not a terrorist make,” she said. “He wanted to cause pain and suffering, not invoke terror. He had no agenda other than revenge.”