Soft Target (Major Crimes Unit Book 2)

by Wright, Iain Rob

  “Are we sure about that?” asked Howard.

  Bennett shrugged. “Your figurehead is dead. Who else could it be?”

  “I suppose you’re right,” agreed Howard, “but how? The Prime Minister is the most protected woman in the country.”

  Bennett shook her head vehemently. “I disagree. In America there’s a small army protecting our President, but your Prime Minister is virtually defenceless. There are no Secret Service to take a bullet for Breslow, or armed convoys taking her from one place to the next. Your Prime Minister is a soft target.”

  “She’s right,” Sarah said. “We don’t plan for assassination attempts like other nations. With our gun ban and political system, the ramifications of executing a Prime Minister aren’t worth the risk. The party in power would just put someone else in charge and all of the current policies would continue. The only reason to kill our Prime Minister is to make a statement. This whole thing has been about an eye-for-an-eye. We helped take out Saddam, Bin Laden, Gaddafi… now Hesbani wants to take out one of ours.”

  Palu stood. “I’ll put through a call to Breslow. We have a prerogative to warn her directly.”

  Sarah leaned back and tried to think like Hesbani. Killing Breslow would be primetime news all over the world, but somehow it didn’t quite fit. Breslow had only been in power for two years, and had been behind a concerted effort to pull troops out of the Middle East. Her recent tax hikes and cutbacks on education had made her an unpopular leader, unlikely to get a second term. Killing her wouldn’t crush the people of Great Britain. It wasn’t grand enough. Hesbani wanted to be immortalised, but killing Breslow wouldn’t gain him the everlasting notoriety that Bin Laden had achieved.

  Howard’s mob-sat rang, and by the end of the call he looked relieved. “Mandy’s okay,” he said. “His surgery was a success and he’s awake. Mattock is on his way to check on him right now.”

  “Good. Mandy promised to start a band with me, so he’d better be okay.”

  Howard smirked.

  The sudden good news made Sarah think of things less fortunate. “What have we done with Bradley?”

  “He’s comfortable,” Bennett said. “I wrapped him in blankets and laid him inside his dorm until we can have his body sent to his family.”

  “He had a room here?”

  Bennett nodded. “There are dorm rooms in the rear of the head section. I can take you to him, if you’d like.”

  Sarah nodded.

  Dr Bennett took Sarah on the five minute walk to the dorms. “I’ll leave you alone,” she said when they reached Bradley’s room.

  “No. I’d like you to stay.”

  Bennett cleared her throat. “I… er… okay.”

  Bradley’s body was wrapped in a bundle of white sheets on a small cot bed. A bible had been placed on top of his chest. “You’re a Christian?” asked Sarah.

  “Not really, but it seemed like the right thing to do. I don’t know whether or not he believed. Seems like he was only around for a short while.”

  Sarah looked around the room, finding it cluttered. Bradley had tried to make it a home. A large black and white print of Trafalgar Square hung on one wall. On the other side of the room, an image of the royal crown hung above the inscription, Keep Calm and Carry On.

  “What did you know about him?” Sarah asked.

  Bennett shrugged. “He was a sweet boy, and smart. Loved his country, loved his queen; just wanted to do some good. I’m ashamed to say I underestimated how brave he was. In the end he proved he was more than just a sweet boy.”

  “He loved the Queen?” Sarah found that a little odd.

  “He loved everything about this country. Tell you the truth, I was never that happy about being posted here, but Bradley’s enthusiasm was infectious. Brits can be rude and vulgar, and your roads make no sense at all, but deep down y’all are about the most accommodating people on the planet. This country tries to please everybody all the time, and it probably comes about as close as any country could. America always prides itself on being free, but I’ve never been anywhere that’s as free as Britain. You can be poor, sick, uneducated, or even from an enemy nation, and this country will look after you. That’s why I’m happy to be here. I think this country is a place worth fighting for.”

  Sarah nodded. “Somehow I lost sight of that.”

  “You weren’t fighting for your nation before, Sarah, you were fighting for your government. It’s not the same. MCU is fighting the good fight, for no other agenda than saving lives. We don’t care about oil, political favours, or International sanctions. The only thing we care about is stopping the bad guys. I think that’s what you care about too. Perhaps it’s the only thing you have left to care about.”

  Sarah looked at the doctor, and for the first time admired her. “Let me guess, you threw in a couple of psychology courses when you studied for your medical degree.”

  Bennett smiled. “Most doctors do. How else are we supposed to screw with y’alls heads?”

  Sarah chuckled. “Thanks for not being the bitch I thought you were, Dr Bennett.”

  “Likewise.”

  Sarah heaved a sigh. “I need to say goodbye to Bradley, now.”

  Jessica nodded and left the room. Sarah knelt down beside Bradley. “Hey kid, it’s Sarah. I just wanted to let you know that you were right. The problem wasn’t with how other people saw me, it was about how I saw myself. If I hadn’t met you, I might never have learned that lesson. “I’m sorry I never got to be nicer to you. It’s my fault you’re dead, but I promise I’m going to get Hesbani and make him pay. God save the Queen, Bradley.”

  INDEPENDENT WOMAN

  “I informed Breslow,” Palu told them. “She was dismissive. The Prime Minister is to remain in Downing Street until the current crisis is averted. People have rioted overnight in Birmingham and Bradford, with more trouble expected. She’ll be holding conferences all day, so there’s not going to be any opportunity to take her out. She was originally scheduled to attend the VE Day river parade, but she’s cancelled.”

  “She should have cancelled the whole parade,” Sarah said. “We’re in the midst of a terrorist campaign and people are packing their sandwiches to go and stand by the river.”

  Howard was frowning. “Hesbani has this all wrong. He’d know that Prime Minister would remain at Downing Street after all these attacks. Why would he not assassinate her first, then explode the suicide bombs?”

  “Something about this doesn’t add up,” agreed Sarah. “I don’t buy Breslow as a big enough target for Hesbani. He wants to become a hero to the terrorist community. Breslow isn’t important enough.”

  “I dare say I agree,” Bennett said. “No disrespect, but your Prime Minister is a fairly benign figure in world events today. Assassinating Sir Ian McKellen would probably hurt the country more.”

  Howard winced. “Nobody wants to see Gandalf die.”

  “So what are we thinking, then?” Palu asked. “Who’s a bigger target than the Prime Minister? Who’s the ‘figurehead’ Hesbani plans to assassinate?”

  “The Queen,” Sarah said, knowing it to be true. Bradley’s unashamed love for the royal family was indicative of a large portion of the country. The Queen was the very embodiment of British pride. She was the symbol of the British Empire. “Hesbani wants to punish us for our imperialistic past. What person represents the British Empire more than the Queen?”

  “There’s no way for knowing for certain,” Howard said, “but I buy it. The Queen would be the jewel in a terrorist’s crown, excuse the pun.”

  “How could Hesbani hope to assassinate the Queen?” Bennett said. “She’s hardly ever in public.”

  “Except for today,” Howard said. “It’s May eighth, VE Day. The Queen is scheduled to travel via barge down the Thames. She’ll be awarding veteran medals on the stretch of river in front of Westminster at the end of the River Parade.”

  Sarah shook her head. “How the hell can we be having a parade when half-a-dozen vil
lages have been bombed?”

  “That’s exactly why,” Palu said. “The Queen has already spoken out against the terrorists, making clear that her plans will not be altered by fear or demand. Today is about remembering the men and woman who fight for our freedom. It would be a great disservice to cancel because of monsters like Hesbani.”

  “I can see why Bradley loved the old dear,” Sarah commented. “She’s got balls.”

  “We should warn Her Majesty,” Bennett said.

  Sarah shook her head. “If we do that, Hesbani might disappear. Our best chance of getting him is out in the open. He doesn’t know what we found at the station house. As long as he remains in the dark, we have the upper hand.”

  Bennett folded her arms. “It’s unethical not to warn her.”

  “So is letting Hesbani escape.”

  Palu motioned for silence. “We’ll hold off on warning the royal household for now. We don’t know what other threats Hesbani might be planning. We need to take him alive and before any more bombs go off. The speech mentions that our capital is in ruins. I believe there are more targets we don’t yet know about.

  Howard bashed his fist down on the desk. “Christ! Where does this end?”

  “I think he’ll be focused on hitting Westminster,” Sarah said. “Hesbani will want something iconic. What would be a more lasting image than the Houses of Parliament burning?”

  Palu nodded. “We need to get bodies on the ground. Howard and Sarah, get to Westminster and find Hesbani. Dr Bennett and I will coordinate from here. The Scotland Yard swoop is in progress as we speak. Soon as I hear anything, I’ll let you know what we have.”

  Sarah nodded. “What about Mattock’s team? We need everyone we can get.”

  “Agreed. As soon as Mandy is here, I’ll send Mattock to assist you. Get yourselves armed, I want you on the road in ten.”

  “Good work, partner,” Howard told Sarah as they left the conference room.

  “We’re not partners yet.”

  Howard frowned.

  She patted him on the back. “I still need to earn that honour.”

  Howard took her to the armoury again, where she replaced her stolen SIG with another. They both strapped on Kevlar vests beneath their clothes, and then left.

  Sarah knew her way around the Earthworm well enough by now that she made it out into the derelict farm only a few minutes later. The MCU was beginning to feel like home.

  She and Howard started up the remaining Jag and got going. By the time they reached the highway, the lunchtime rush had started. Despite all of the devastation, people still had to earn a living.

  Once upon a time, the people of Britain would have banded together in a crisis like this, lining the streets in solidarity. Nowadays, people acted like nothing happened. They lived life as individuals, where once they had been a community. Sarah wondered if the country would ever get back to those days of unified spirit.

  The lunchtime rush hour resulted in the drive being more than an hour. By the time they managed to park on Great College Street, opposite Big Ben, it was 1.30PM. The Queen was due to appear at 3PM.

  Howard rummaged in the boot of the Jag for his jacket while Sarah surveyed the area. Westminster seemed ancient in the soft sunlight. The sharp spikes of the Parliament buildings seemed to catch the light and sparkle like a castle out of Camelot. The nearby river only added to the fantasy. What ruined it was the endless lines of beeping traffic and photo-snapping tourists. People were already lining the banks of the Thames, investing hours of their time to get a decent spot for the short-lived festivities. Sarah hoped they didn’t end up getting a show they weren’t expecting. If the Queen was shot, the whole world would see it live. Even now, there were news helicopters hovering. Their cameras wouldn’t miss a thing. It was the grandest place in the city, making it the grandest place to assassinate a monarch.

  “Where do we start?” Howard asked, closing the boot. He handed her a small radio, which she attached to the lapel of her jacket.

  “The officers killed in front of Scotland Yard were hit by a sniper, right? My guess would be that Hesbani is planning to hit Her Majesty as she comes down the river.”

  Nearby, a gentleman smoking a cigarette gave her an astonished glance. He’d obviously heard her.

  “Hey,” Sarah shouted at the guy. “Go smoke that somewhere else before I stub it out in your eye.”

  The man hurried away.

  Howard frowned. “I thought you were going to go with a different attitude.”

  “I am. Did you hear me use any bad language?”

  Howard smirked. “Well done.”

  “Thank you. Now, if I were a sniper, where would I perch?”

  Howard looked up at Big Ben. “How ‘bout up there?”

  Sarah considered the bell tower behind the giant clock and knew it looked right out over the Thames. If for nothing else, it would be a good place for Sarah and Howard to survey the area.

  “Okay, make a call or something. Get us inside.”

  Howard called Palu, who got them clearance right away. There was a security guard at the front entrance who was expecting them, and they were shown inside immediately.

  “How easy is it to access Big Ben,” Sarah glanced at the guard’s name badge, “David?”

  “Technically Big Ben is the name of the bell, sweetheart. The tower itself is called the Elizabeth Tower. To answer your question, though, there are sporadic tours, usually arranged by local MPs trying to impress their constituents, but during special occasions the tower is completely off-limits. Bomb threats tend to be the greatest concern, especially on days like today. What are you, MI5, Special Branch? I was going to apply to join the Met, but got myself a dodgy knee. So what are you looking for? You can tell me, I’ve signed all the confidentiality forms.”

  “What about snipers?” Howard asked, ignoring David’s babble.

  David shrugged. His shoulders were wide but his belly was fat. It didn’t look like the guy had ever made the trip to the top of the tower himself. “It’s a good spot, I guess, but this place is never empty. I think a sniper probably wants to be hidden, don’t he, so this wouldn’t be a good place.”

  Sarah was disappointed. Hesbani wasn’t going to be so easily predictable. She wondered if he was the sniper, or was it Hamish, or the woman in the burkha? She didn’t remember Hamish having any particular skill with a rifle and Hesbani’s fondness for knives made her pretty sure he wouldn’t be found behind a sniper’s scope. That left the women in the burkha. Who the hell was she?

  “Can we go to the bell tower?” Sarah asked the guard.

  David nodded and led them to the top. “I’ll be back at the entrance,” he said. “You need anything just holler.”

  From inside the tower, Sarah could see the sunshine gleaming off the river, bathing the city in an orange halo. From up so high, the city noise disappeared. It was truly beautiful.

  “Don’t suppose you can see anything?” Howard asked.

  Sarah shook her head. “It’s like an ant farm down there. We’ll never spot anything from up here without a telescope.”

  “Try these.” Howard handed her a small, sleek set of binoculars.

  “Where did you get these?”

  “Out of the boot. You didn’t think I’d come on a surveillance mission without anything to surveil with, did you?”

  Sarah snatched the binoculars. “Knew you would come in handy someday.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who has to keep being rescued.”

  “Those days are over,” said Sarah, “and as I remember it, you’ve been a damsel in distress yourself since we met, too.”

  “Maybe our odds would be better if we stuck together.”

  Sarah frowned. Howard stood like a boy asking a girl out on a first date. “If you’re asking me to be your partner,” she said, “I’m afraid I already promised myself to one of Dr Bennett’s cats.”

  Howard punched the air. “Those damned cats! Always in on my action.”


  Sarah giggled, and then suddenly remembered why they were there. She looked through the binoculars and suddenly London came back to life. The ants had become people and cars again.

  “There are people everywhere,” she said. “I don’t even know what to look for.”

  “The parade is set to begin soon,” Howard said. “We need to look out for anybody acting outside of expected parameters. Commuters should be moving, and tourists should be spectating and taking pictures. Is there anybody doing something different?”

  Sarah scanned below. Just as Howard had predicted, there were several lines of suited business people, trying to get where they going as quickly as possible. Their main obstacles were the dawdling groups of tourists taking photographs, or standing and pointing. It was like watching a river flowing around boulders.

  Various boats, mostly small outboard vessels, lined the width of the Thames, all of them emblazoned with Union Jacks and other patriotic symbols. There were also Nepalese, Cypriote, and several other national emblems for those who had aided Britain during the Second World War.

  To Sarah’s left was the London Eye. The city’s giant Ferris Wheel could make a good spot for a sniper, but while it was moving it would require a lot of on-the-fly adjustments. It couldn’t be ruled out as a possible location, but it wasn’t ideal. There were many other buildings on the opposite side of the river, but none were particularly tall. They would also be extremely busy during a working day, which would make the likelihood of discovery very high.

  Where would I want to be if I was going to set up a rifle? I would want to be high with a nice long approach, the target coming towards me, not across me. I would want to be invisible.

  Sarah scanned with the binoculars but kept coming up empty. The best place to snipe a boat coming down the river was from atop Westminster Bridge, but the road was flat and low. There were no elevations or interior spaces in which to hide like Tower Bridge. Sarah hated to admit it, but she didn’t think they would find the sniper at this section of the Thames.

  Howard was silent behind her, obviously sensing her frustration. If she didn’t find a clue, they’d be forced to warn the queen’s security. The parade would be cancelled and even more panic would descend the country. And Hesbani would disappear into the woodwork.