Soft Target (Major Crimes Unit Book 2)

by Wright, Iain Rob

  Sarah leapt to her feet. Howard and Mattock were reloading their weapons behind her.

  “You okay?” Mattock asked her, running up alongside her.

  “I’m fine. We need to get back in that building and rip it apart for evidence. Hesbani’s on the run now. We only have a small window of time before he disappears.”

  The sound of police sirens filled the air. “You and Howard get back inside the station house,” Mattock said. “I’ll clear things with the Old Bill as best I can. They ain’t gunna like this.”

  Sarah patted Mattock on the shoulder and left with Howard, heading back into the alleyway.

  Outside the station house, there was a strange sound, like air escaping from a tyre.

  Howard stopped and looked around. “What is that?”

  Sarah shook her head. “I don—”

  The third floor of the station house exploded. The wooden boards flew from the windows as flames burst through the openings. Bricks and stones rained down on Sarah and Howard. A fist-sized piece of debris striking her shoulder, but she gritted her teeth and ignored it. Everything they needed was going up in flames.

  Howard hit the deck and took cover. Sarah marched towards the burning building. Howard shouted at her to get back, but she couldn’t be stopped. Burning rubble continued to rain down on her, but all she could think about was the fact that every clue to finding Hesbani was inside the station house, on the third floor.

  Sarah made a decision. She sprinted towards the building and burst through its front door. Clouds of smoke billowed at her, reminding her of the infirmary and Bradley’s body, but she covered her mouth with the sleeve of her workman’s jacket and made a beeline for the staircase.

  Every step she took became more difficult, but she wouldn’t let it stop her. She reached the next set of steps and felt heat from above. Fires raged everywhere, roaring as they consumed the rotten wood and super-heated the stonework. The right side of Sarah’s face started to sweat; the left side was incapable.

  Howard’s voice echoed from below, pleading for her to get out, but she couldn’t go back until she knew there was nothing salvageable.

  Sarah forced herself up the steps, battling the heat and smoke. She thought she might collapse a few times, but she willed herself to continue onwards.

  The entire third floor was aflame. Embers fell from the ceiling timbers and filled the air like firebugs. Sarah’s flinched as a burning splinter sizzled on her neck. The desks and corkboards were up ahead. Most of them were consumed by flames, but one of the desks was only smouldering. She raced towards it.

  Something hit Sarah on her back, knocking her onto her belly. She wheezed as a chunk of masonry pinned her to the floor, and choked as she tried to grab a breath, clawing at the floor wildly. Her arms and legs felt tingly and it took a concerted effort to move them.

  Sarah managed to roll out from underneath the masonry, but was unable to get to her feet. She felt like she was swimming, and any attempt to get up only made her sink lower, so she crawled instead of walking, dragging herself towards the smouldering desk, desperately trying to get there before it ignited.

  She made it to the desk, and standing up was her next challenge. The flames were already licking at the legs of the table, so she couldn’t use them for support. Her head flopped loosely on her shoulders and her hands clawed the air impotently, but her eyes were alert and she managed to spot something lying beneath the table. There was a sheet of paper on the floor, blown free of the corkboard by the explosion. She snatched at it and shoved the paper into her trouser pocket, grinning deliriously at her victory.

  But that was all she had. She was done.

  Sarah lay like a rock, unable to move as the flames closed in around her, consuming all in their path. She tried to cry out but all she could manage was a weak cough.

  “Sarah!”

  She couldn’t see Howard, but his voice was coming from the stairs.

  “Sarah, hold on.”

  Sarah waited, listening to the crackling of the flames. Then she felt herself hoisted upwards and dragged backwards through the smoke. She thought she might die, and if she did, she just hoped that the piece of paper in her pocket was useful.

  AFGHANISTAN, 2008

  As soon as Camp Bastion’s patrol found Sarah, they rushed her back to base. There, a pair of Army surgeons rehydrated her and stitched up the festering wound in her thigh, but they couldn’t do anything about her facial wounds. When she came around, they told her she’d been out for almost twenty-four hours. When she asked about her baby, they told her there was no baby, and nor would there ever be. She had miscarried during surgery and her uterus was shot. She hadn’t cried upon hearing that, even though she felt more wretched than at any other point in her life.

  At 0600 hours, Major Burke had come by to see her. He told her that he was sorry about the loss of her child, and if she’d told him she was pregnant he never would’ve sent her out. Sarah said it was okay and that it had been her decision not to tell him.

  Then Major Burke had got down to business. “Sergeant Miller?”

  “Dead.”

  “Private Owen?”

  “Dead.”

  “Privates Murs, Styles, and McElderry?”

  “Dead, dead, dead.”

  “Corporal Hamish Barnes?”

  Sarah swallowed a lump in her throat. She couldn’t look her CO in the eye when she spoke again. “Dead.”

  Burke sighed. “Christ, what a clusterfuck. We’ve blanketed the area in troops but the village has been completely abandoned. Seems like the Taliban had a stranglehold on the place and we didn’t even know it. We’ll find these men, don’t you worry, Captain.”

  But Sarah knew they wouldn’t. Al-Sharir had eluded the West long enough to know what he was doing. He wouldn’t be caught sleeping, and his right-hand man, Hesbani, was a rabid dog, born for war. He would never be captured alive, and killing him would just make him the martyr he dreamed of being.

  Sarah needed to talk to Thomas. He needed to know about their baby. He needed to know how sorry she was. “I need to speak to my husband,” she uttered weakly. “Please, Major. He’s at Camp Leatherneck. I need to see him.”

  Major Burke’s face fell. He knew Thomas well, had even attended their wedding. He looked at Sarah strangely now, though, as if she’d asked for something he couldn’t make sense of. “Sarah, I’m… sorry. I tried to reach Thomas as soon as you were brought in. American Command told me he was carrying out a spec op in the area, leading a team of local insurgents in an unmarked minibus.”

  “Okay, when will the op be over?”

  “That’s the thing,” Burke said. “One of our Apache patrols came across a bus in that area this morning. After what happened to your squad, we mistook it for hostile.”

  Sarah wanted to throw up. “I-Is Thomas okay?”

  “No. The Apache fired on the bus. There were no survivors. The bus was unmarked. We didn’t know. I gave the order myself. I’m sorry.”

  Sarah closed her eyes. One week ago, she was leaving the Army to start a family in sunny Florida with a man she adored. Now she had nothing.

  Burke stood at the foot of her bed, looking at her with concern. “Sarah, do you understand what I’ve just told you?”

  “Yes, I understand, sir. Now please get out of my fucking sight.”

  Sarah was discharged from the Army a week later.

  THE PHANTOM MENACE

  Firemen gave Sarah oxygen, and after several shaky hours, she managed to finally get her breath back. The Fire Service managed to deal with the inferno before it spread outside the building and they were now in the process of trying to make the burnt-out building safe again.

  Mattock was dealing with the police while Howard stood beside Sarah in silence. The nearby rail station had been halted for security purposes and gawping spectators had started to surround the area like ants around a biscuit. Another bomb had gone off in a small town and the public’s fear was tangible. British towns were
going up like fireworks and nobody knew where the devastation would hit next.

  Sarah was still dealing with the fact that Hamish was alive, and working with Hesbani.

  “You could have died going in there,” Howard chided her. “What were you thinking?”

  “If we don’t catch Hesbani, they’ll be more attacks. Maybe you should have been quicker following me in.”

  “We’ll get him, Sarah, and we’ll do it without you having to kill yourself. You’re no good to us if you’re dead.”

  “What the hell do you know about anything?” she snarled. “Hesbani ruined my life a long time ago and now he’s ruining hundreds more. The guy lives for this, he’s a monster. If you don’t have the stomach to get the job done, maybe you should go home.”

  “I’m just saying be careful. There’s a difference between risk and stupidity.”

  “Did they teach you that when you were a university lecturer? This isn’t a goddamn classroom, Howard. Theory goes out the window on the battlefield. You do what needs to be done or you lose. I won’t lose again, I can’t.”

  “Well, guess what?” Howard said. “You just did lose. Hesbani got away. The lone wolf routine isn’t working for you, Sarah. As for my time in the classroom, I used to think that predicting and preventing a terrorist’s actions was better than dealing with the aftermath, when people are already dead. But, after one of my colleagues was arrested for poisoning a tea urn at a Christian fundraiser, I realised that you can’t predict terrorism. It can’t be studied or formulated. After thousands of years of human history, we still don’t understand evil. My Uncle was at that Christian fundraiser, and he really loved to drink tea.” Howard swallowed. “Stop convincing yourself that being a bitch is okay just because you’ve lost something. You’re not the only one who’s suffered at the hands of evil. You’re not fucking special.”

  Sarah blinked and looked down at her shoes.

  Howard was still fuming, but after a minute he chuckled bitterly. “You know, the reason I brought you to MCU was because I thought we had something in common, but now I know that we don’t. I do this because I want to save innocent lives, but you’re doing this because you want to kill bad guys; and if you can’t do that, you’re happy to kill yourself. It’s not courage, acting the way you do, it’s cowardice. Face yourself in the mirror and decide you want to be a human being again, and then you’ll have my respect. Until then, you’re just a bitch.”

  Howard marched off before Sarah could respond. Even if he’d given her time, she wasn’t sure she could’ve said anything. After everything that had happened, Sarah’s head was a mess. She felt responsible for Bradley’s death, but also felt angry that she’d been brought into this goddamn situation in the first place. Howard had asked for her help and she’d given it, but instead of gratitude, she only got anger from him.

  Was everything really her fault?

  The truth was that she was scared. Scared of trusting, scared of finding out that she’s made it out of Afghanistan alive, while everyone around her had not. If she finally allowed herself a life again, would the guilt overwhelm her? Would the faces of Miller, Thomas, and her baby haunt her forever? Or would they come back from the dead like Hamish?

  Even if she wanted to let go of the past, what future could she even hope to have? She was a damaged freak.

  Like a wild animal, Sarah let out a yell. She screamed, kicked and thrashed. She wanted to explode, to claw out her own eyes so that she wouldn’t have to look at anyone ever again, but all she could do was flop to the floor in defeat as a flood of tears erupted from her.

  Mattock approached her casually. “Bloody hell, girl. If your old man could see you now.”

  Sarah glared at him. “He’d laugh at me, then walk away in shame, right? Don’t you think I fucking know that? You can tell Daddy all about this at your next poker night. Have a laugh on me.”

  Mattock chuckled. “I wouldn’t tell that miserable sod a damn thing. You’re right, he would leave his daughter lying on the ground in tears. That’s the kind of man he is. No wonder you’ve got so many issues, luv. My old man was a bus driver; lovely man. Would have given his right arm for me if I needed it. Your old man is a cold-hearted bastard, you don’t need to tell me.”

  Sarah choked on a sob. “I thought all the SAS loved my father. He’s a hero.”

  “You’re damn right he’s a hero. Don’t mean he’s not a total arsehole, though. There’re many things I miss about the forces, but Major Stone ain’t one of ‘em.”

  Sarah laughed so unexpectedly that she ended up drooling. She wiped the spittle away with the back of her hand and laughed again. “That makes two of us,” she said. “He was never able to forgive me for not having a cock between my legs.”

  Mattock offered Sarah his hand. “Believe me, any decent father would be proud to have a daughter like you.”

  Sarah didn’t take Mattock’s hand as she was too overwhelmed.

  Mattock shifted uncomfortably. “Bloody hell, girl, will you get your arse up? I’m a trained killer, not a bleedin’ nanny.” He grabbed her under the arms and yanked her to her feet. “Man up, soldier. There’re still arses to be kicked and, from what I can see, you still have both legs. Stop yer bawling.”

  Sarah nodded and wiped her eyes. “Okay, I’m done being a girl for today, and I’m also done losing. I think we’re overdue for a big fucking win.”

  “Amen to that, Captain.”

  Sarah smiled at Mattock. “My friends call me Sarah.”

  “Sarah it is, then.”

  DADDY’S GIRL

  Mattock talked with the police again while Sarah re-joined Howard. He looked like he was ready for a fight again as she approached him, but Sarah raised her hands to show she was coming in peace. “You were right,” she said. “I might have a slight attitude problem.”

  “A slight problem?”

  “Okay, fine, I’m a bitch, but I’m ready to play nice now. I know you’ve got my back. I’ve got yours too.”

  Howard smiled. “I know you do.”

  “We have nothing, Howard. Hesbani has planned more attacks and we have no leads.”

  “Yes we do.” He pulled a wedge of papers from his jacket pocket. “I held onto these after you gave them to me. It’s the files on the suicide bombers.”

  Sarah grabbed Howard and kissed him hard on the mouth. “You beauty,” she said. “We need to get these sent out right now.”

  Howard cheeks reddened. “Already done it. I photographed the documents and sent them to Palu. He and Bennett are sending the info to every agency in the country. Prime Minister Breslow herself has commended the MCU for its efforts. Whoever these disillusioned maniacs are, they’ll be swept up within the hour.”

  Sarah was so relieved that they’d finally done some good. No matter what Hesbani did from here, they had foiled at least part of his plan. If they could capture some of the suicide bombers alive, they would have suspects to interview, information to gather.

  “We’ll get Hesbani,” Howard told her. “Once we have his people, it’s only a matter of time.”

  Sarah nodded. “I just hope we find him fast. He’ll be desperate now; more dangerous than ever.”

  “And he still has people with him. We have no idea who the man in the balaclava was, or the woman in the van.”

  Sarah thought about telling him about Hamish, but didn’t quite know how to explain that yet. How could she tell Howard that she had let one of her men die in Afghanistan, but he was back from the grave?

  Howard looked down at his sleeve and wiped off a layer of soot. Then he tugged at his cuffs and straightened up his workman’s jacket. “Pity Hesbani’s hideout went up in flames. It might have shed light on who his accomplices were. We still don’t know if Al-Sharir is behind this.”

  Sarah’s eyes went wide. “Balls, I forgot!”

  Howard looked confused. “Huh?”

  She pulled out the piece of paper she’d grabbed inside the burning building, right before Howard had dra
gged her out. When she was finished reading it, she looked up at Howard and swallowed. “This isn’t good.”

  “What is it?”

  Sarah handed him the piece of paper. “It’s Hesbani’s script for the final videotape.”

  Howard read it, his expression growing grim. “We have to get back to MCU. We can’t let this happen.”

  Sarah raised her eyebrows. “No shit.”

  They left Mattock with the police and headed for the car. It had gotten late, the sun disappearing. Sarah put her foot down as she reached the M5 motorway, heading south towards London. If Hesbani’s plan was still active, London was where they needed to be. Within half an hour, they met up with Palu and Dr Bennett in the Earthworm’s conference room.

  Howard scanned Hesbani’s script with his mob-sat and brought it up on the television screen.

  People of Britain. Today your empire burns. Your capital city has crumbled and your figurehead is dead. Such is the will of Allah. Shab Bekhier has carried out its mission as promised. You might try to stop us, you might try to kill us, but what we have done today will serve as a stark warning to future generations. My name is Al Al-Sharir and all I have done, I have done for the glory of Allah.

  “Why is Hesbani still claiming to be Al-Sharir?” Bennett asked. “Unless we’re assuming that Al-Sharir might still be involved.”

  Sarah thought about Hamish, and how Al-Sharir had ordered Hesbani to slit his throat in the middle of the desert. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Perhaps everything I thought about Al-Sharir is wrong. I thought he lived by a certain set of rules; a moral compass. Now, I’m not so sure.”

  Howard tapped his fingertips on the desk anxiously. “Have we managed to bring in any of the documented suicide bombers yet?”

  Palu answered. “Scotland Yard are carrying out a raid as we speak. As soon as they have them in custody, they know that finding Hesbani’s whereabouts is top priority.”

  “We need to warn them that Hesbani’s planning to take out Prime Minister Breslow,” Bennett said.