Soft Target (Major Crimes Unit Book 2)

by Wright, Iain Rob

  “What we looking at?” Mattock asked.

  “Bradley managed to compile a list of all properties registered to Hamil Hamidi.”

  They all took a moment to examine the list. Sarah spotted the Oxfordshire newsagent as well as multiple other businesses, ranging from a florists to a Halal slaughterhouse. Whoever Hamil Hamidi was, he was well-heeled with a seemingly endless list of investments. One item on the list particularly caught Sarah’s attention: a listed building, described as derelict. It wasn’t so much the building that caught piqued her interest, so much as the address: Thornton Cross Station House (Derelict, Class 2 listed building), 1 Station Road, Redditch.

  “He owns a property next to a train station,” said Sarah. “The videos all had an unstable light source, like a bulb swinging.”

  Howard looked at her knowingly. “Caused by the vibrations of trains coming in and out of the station.”

  Sarah nodded. “It’s likely where Hesbani is making the videos.”

  “Then that’s where we’ll find him,” Mattock said. “And we can finally kick his bloody arse.”

  “That’s going to be all me,” Sarah said. “And God help anybody who gets in my way.” The truth was that she was scared shitless, but she knew that the only way she would ever get any peace was by finally facing Hesbani, and then taking the son-of-a-bitch down.

  Palu folded his arms and moved back in his chair. “So you’re back with us then, Captain?”

  “You’re damn right I am, and it’s Sarah.”

  Palu smiled. “Glad to have you with us, Sarah.”

  “Well,” Mattock said, “guess that’s the team talk over. Shall we make a move?”

  Sarah stood up. “I’m driving.”

  NEW HOPE

  Despite the town of Redditch being close to her flat in Moseley, Sarah hadn’t visited before. It was just another Birmingham satellite town, patches of parkland shoved up against industrial sections to disguise them, and residential estates built around small shopping hubs called ‘centres,’ but despite the annoying amount of roundabouts and ring roads, the town was actually quite pretty. Sarah spotted signs for both a lake and an abbey, and they passed several playing fields full of children.

  It was now Wednesday morning and Sarah couldn’t believe how little sleep she was able to operate on. It was like having cotton wool inside her skull, but somehow she felt more alert and focused than ever.

  She pulled off the highway and onto the ring road that would take them into Redditch’s town centre. There were signs indicating that the rail station was ahead. Sarah took the opportunity to report in, fiddling with the steering wheel’s controls to get Palu. “We’re in Redditch,” she told him. “Just heading to the station now.”

  “I’ve put the local police on alert,” Palu informed her. “They’ll be nearby if you need backup. They’ve been informed that you’re an anti-terrorist task force working under the purview of the Met.”

  “Roger that,” Howard said from the passenger seat. “Permission to use force if necessary?”

  “Lethal force granted, but be aware that you will be operating in the centre of a civilian area. There can be absolutely no collateral damage. I want every bullet accounted for at the end of the day.”

  “I’ll beat Hesbani to death with his own shoes if I have to,” said Sarah. “No need for bullets.”

  “Keep me updated.” Palu signed off.

  Mattock was chuckling to himself. “You know, Sarah, you have quite the sick sense of humour. Reminds me of someone I know.”

  Sarah clenched the wheel. “If you mean my father, I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Howard looked at her, but she refused to make eye-contact. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. I just can’t get into… that.”

  They came up by a courthouse and a glass-fronted college, and continued following signs for the rail station. Eventually they found it, opposite an open-air bus depot.

  “That must be it,” Mattock said, pointing to a large Georgian house right next to the station. “It’s a derelict building, right? That place looks pretty derelict to me.”

  Sarah pulled into the station’s car park, and they got out the moment the engine died. The station was practically empty, no doubt because of the terrorism alert.

  Sarah, Mattock, and Howard were all wearing the luminous yellow jackets of workmen. People paid workmen no mind, especially when it came to derelict buildings.

  The new rail station had been placed directly in front of the old one. They couldn’t enter the fenced-off area of the derelict station without crossing over the tracks. The front of the building was blocked by the elevated ring road.

  Howard cleared his throat. “Any ideas on how we get in?”

  Sarah looked around. “If Hesbani is using this place, there must be a way in and out. He wouldn’t climb the fence in front of a station full of people.”

  “What about there?” Mattock pointed at an office block adjacent to the rear of the derelict station house.

  Sarah nodded. “Let’s check it out.”

  They found a footpath and headed around the new train station towards the old. Eventually they came out around the opposite side and were heading towards the office block. When they got there, they found that it was abandoned also. Not derelict, but vacant and FOR RENT. The office block was empty and private.

  “This must be it,” Sarah said. “Let’s keep our heads low and find a way through.”

  They crept up to the office building, looking about themselves for the slightest movement. There were people working in other offices across the road, and there was a driving test centre nearby, but nobody was paying any attention to them. The yellow workmen jackets were doing their job.

  “What about here?” Mattock said. He was standing by a gated alleyway at the side of the vacant office building.

  “Is the gate unlocked?” Sarah asked.

  Mattock grabbed the lock and twisted it. The metal gate creaked open.

  Sarah and Howard looked at one another as Mattock slipped into the alleyway and disappeared. Things were going more smoothly than expected.

  They kept their heads down and followed the pathway lead into a yard. A chain link fence separated the office plot from the derelict station house. There was a wide tear in the bottom of the steel mesh.

  Sarah was sure no one on the platform would be able to see them. “Okay,” she said, “guns out.”

  Mattock took point. His gun was the biggest and he looked the least likely of them to die from a gunshot wound to the face. He stepped through the gap in the fence and moved into the grounds of the old station house. Sarah went through after him, followed by Howard. They all watching the boarded windows, wary of anything lurking behind them.

  Was Hesbani inside? Sarah wasn’t sure how she would react if he was. The man had haunted her dreams for six years. The thought of meeting him face to face was like meeting the bogeyman.

  The derelict station’s doorframe was rotten, brown, and splintered. When Mattock shoved up against it, the door swung aside easily, scarping across the stone floor as it hung from warped hinges.

  There was nothing inside but darkness.

  Sarah stepped inside and flinched as fallen masonry crunched underfoot. There were old fare tickets and route maps fading against the stone floor, almost like carpet.

  “Looks like it’s ready to fall down any minute,” Howard whispered. “Why haven’t they demolished it already?”

  “Because somebody owns it,” Sarah said. “Whoever this Hamil Hamidi is, he obviously wants the place standing.”

  They checked out all of the side rooms, but found nothing. Now they needed to check the upper floors. They congregated in front of the house’s grand staircase and looked upwards.

  “I’m not sure trying to climb that thing is a sound idea,” Mattock said. “Bloody thing’s falling apart.”

  Sarah shook her head. “It’s just a bit of peeling paint.”


  She took the first step, SIG pointed up the stairs. Howard and Mattock followed closely behind. Dust puffed out from beneath their boots as they disturbed thick piles. It looked like nobody had come through here in years, but there were tell-tale signs that that wasn’t true. Sarah noticed a few places on each step where the stone showed through the dust. Recent footsteps.

  At the top, the rooms on each side were open-fronted and wide. The interiors had been gutted and there was no way to tell what had once stood inside them.

  Mattock tutted. “This floor is a bust.”

  Sarah ground her teeth. They couldn’t afford not to find anything here. It was the only solid lead they had.

  She made for the next set of stairs and started upwards. Howard and Mattock hissed at her to be cautious, but she left them with no option but to follow.

  When they reached the third and final floor, Sarah grinned. “Found you.”

  The entire third floor was open-plan. It’d been completely cleared of debris, and in its place was a line of desks and wall-mounted corkboards. The corkboards were covered with detailed drawings of bombs, maps, and letters. It was an empty hive, left behind by its evacuating worker bees.

  In the centre of the room was a video camera, perched atop a tripod and pointing at a bare desk with a single lamp plugged into a double power outlet. As a train departed the nearby station, Sarah looked up and saw a bare bulb swinging back and forth.

  “You were right,” said Howard, coming up behind Sarah. “Hesbani was here.”

  Sarah went to the nearest desk and plucked a photograph from the corkboard. It was a psychiatric report on Caroline Pugh, with Dr Cartwright’s signature on the bottom. Paper-clipped to the back was a flyer for the pub she blew up. Sarah found similar files for Jeffrey Blanchfield and the people responsible for blowing up Dartmouth and Aborfield.

  Howard examined the files as well. “We should get these to the local police,” he said. “They’re still trying to identify the other bombers.”

  The Dartmouth bomber had detonated on the ferry and sunk beneath the waves. The police couldn’t distinguish between the bomber and the victims. “We’ll call it all in once we’re done,” she said. “First I want to —” Her eyes settled on the far end of the corkboard. “Oh no.” She ripped four pages off the board and held them up for Howard and Mattock. “These places haven’t been hit yet.” She leafed through the papers quickly. Four more medical histories of seemingly normal people, four more villages yet to be devastated.

  Howard grabbed the papers from her and took a look. “I’ll call Palu. We need to move.”

  Blam!

  Everyone hit the ground at the sound of the gunshot. Sarah ducked beneath one of the desks and aimed her SIG, but couldn’t find a target.

  Blam!

  The desk above Sarah’s head splintered. She dove out from beneath it and rolled to her feet.

  Then she found a target.

  Emerging from a defunct bathroom was a man in a baseball cap. He held a pistol in each hand and was pointing them both at Sarah. Mattock and Howard leapt from cover and fired just in time to send the man running.

  Sarah wasted no time going after the assailant. The man in the balaclava raced down the stairs, leaping the steps three at a time, but Sarah threw herself down four at a time. The man was fast, but something had possessed Sarah that almost made her take flight. Blood pulsed in her temples and her whole body shuddered as her boots furiously pounded the ground.

  Howard and Mattock gave chase behind Sarah, but they had no chance of keeping up. Ahead, the balaclava man sped across the first floor. Sarah was gaining on him, but was forced to fall back when he let off a couple of shots. Sarah ducked inside one of the gutted shop fronts and fired back three times.

  The balaclava man grunted

  Sarah’s last round had hit home, catching the target in his leg. He clutched at his thigh and cursed, but before Sarah could line up another shot, he straightened out and let rip with both guns. Howard and Mattock were forced to retreat back up the stairs. Sarah leapt inside the empty shop and waited.

  Blam Blam Clink!

  One of balaclava man’s guns went dry and he threw it to the floor. He still had ammunition in his other weapon, but instead of emptying it at Sarah, he limped off in a hurry.

  Sarah slipped out of the store front and followed the man down the final flight of stairs. In his desperation, he was still able to keep up a decent pace. She chased the man out of the building and into the yard. There was panicked screaming coming from the nearby train platform. The handful of people waiting there had heard the gunshots.

  “Don’t fucking move,” Sarah shouted. She’d caught up enough to take balaclava man’s head off if she wanted to.

  The man stopped, put his hands in the air, and faced Sarah. He still held his gun, but it was pointed at the sky. She kept her SIG ready as she spoke. “Get down on your knees.”

  The man chuckled. “On a first date, lass?”

  Sarah growled. “Do it!”

  The man got down on his knees, hands still raised in the air.

  “Drop the gun.”

  “But then what would I have to shoot you with?”

  Sarah glared.

  “Alright, alright, I hear yer.” He dropped his gun and Sarah kicked it away.

  She stood in front of the man, wondering why he gave her such a strange feeling. Almost like they’d met before. Perhaps it was the accent. “Who are you?” she demanded.

  The man shrugged. “See for yerself.”

  Sarah grabbed the top of the man’s balaclava and ripped it away. The face that looked back at her was a ghost. “Hamish?” she spluttered.

  “Aye,” Hamish said, saluting. “Good to see yer again, Captain. It’s been a wee while.”

  Sarah was so shocked to see Hamish that she was completely taken by surprise when he leapt up and clocked her in the jaw. Her vision was spinning as he snatched her SIG and made a run for the alley.

  RETURN OF THE JEDI

  Sarah fell as Hamish escaped into the alley. There she remained, not because of the blow to her jaw, but because of the paralyzing shock. That couldn’t really have been Hamish. Sarah had watched him die; she’d let him die.

  Howard and Mattock sprinted into the yard and helped Sarah to her feet. Howard grabbed her by the shoulders. “Sarah, are you okay?”

  Sarah stared blankly and tried to speak, but couldn’t. Mattock slapped her. “Wake up! The wanker’s getting away!”

  “He headed into the alley,” said Sarah, suddenly snapping back into focus.

  They took off into the alley, and were just in time to watch Hamish jump into the side of a black van with a rear spoiler. Sarah could see a woman inside wearing a burkha. She was kneeling behind something mounted inside the van.

  “Get down!” Sarah dove back into the alley, dragging Howard and Mattock down with her.

  The woman in the burkha fired a mounted PK machine gun at them, releasing a torrent of bullets so quickly that the noise became an incessant drone.

  “Bleeding ‘ell,” Mattock growled. “Who’s firing a goddamn bulletchucker at us?”

  Sarah peered around the corner and tried to make out who the woman was, but the burkha hid her identity completely. When the woman spotted Sarah, she pivoted the machine gun at her. The brickwork next to Sarah’s head exploded.

  “Unidentified woman. Belt-loaded PK,” Sarah yelled over the din.

  Mattock spat. “Sod it. She could have a thousand rounds before she runs out.”

  “We’re pinned down,” said Howard.

  Sarah knew that a PK was a heavy piece of machinery from the soviet era. Pivoting it from one side to another was a slow, arduous affair. If she could draw the woman’s aim, she might be able to afford an opportunity for Mattock and Howard to return fire.

  “I’m going to break cover,” she said. “Soon as I start running, you’ll have a couple seconds to take her out.”

  Howard grabbed her arm. “D
on’t be a nutter. You’ll be cut to ribbons.”

  “Not if you do your job.” She shrugged free of his grasp and sprinted out of the alleyway. There was no cover, no place to go. The machine gun fire hit the ground behind her like a rainfall of lead. If Howard and Mattock weren’t quick enough, it would catch up to her and tear her to pieces.

  The two men leapt out of the alleyway behind her and let rip. Sarah kept on sprinting, trying to keep ahead of the stream of death.

  The machine gun stopped firing.

  Sarah spun around and watched the woman in the burkha dive down inside the van for cover. Then she saw Hamish sliding the panel door shut behind them both. They were going to make a break for it.

  The van backed up quickly, its tyres skidding on the pavement. The unknown driver shifted into gear and swung the vehicle around. Sarah had no weapon, but she couldn’t help herself — she ran after the van.

  Howard and Mattock fired until their clips went dry.

  There was no way to stop the van, it was going to get away. Sarah gave her legs everything she had, sprinting for the vehicle as it circled towards her. It was getting close enough to flatten her, but she kept on running.

  As the van got closer, Sarah spotted the driver inside. She stood her ground, rooted to the pavement. Her jaw clenched, eyes narrowed.

  Hesbani.

  Hesbani glared back at her, picking up speed. His face held a mixture of anger and surprised. He was obviously stunned to see her, but not displeased.

  As the van sped towards her, Sarah continued to stand her ground. She raised her right hand and extended her middle finger.

  Just in time, she leapt aside and landed on her stomach, forced to watch as the van took off past her and escaped. She would destroy Hesbani if it was the last thing she did.

  Hesbani had probably thought he hadn’t been identified by the authorities; he’d been using Al-Sharir’s name, after all. He would realise now that he was known and wanted. There would be no more clandestine plotting, no more hiding in the shadows, and no more self-indulgent videos. His face would be in the hands of every law enforcement agency in the UK. This would only make him desperate and more dangerous.