Soft Target (Major Crimes Unit Book 2)

by Wright, Iain Rob

  Sarah took one last look, wishing with all her damaged soul to find something. She checked out the ferry boats departing from Westminster Pier, the buses crossing the bridge, the carriages on the London Eye, and the office buildings on the opposite bank. She was just about to give up when she spotted something on the other side of the river. “Howard, what’s that building across the river with a big green tower?”

  “Er… County Hall. There’s a Sea Life centre there and some restaurants.”

  Sarah nodded and kept the binoculars to her eyes. “Well, right now there’s a black van with a rear spoiler, broken down at the side of the road.”

  Howard blanched. “You’re kidding. The same one we saw at the station house in Redditch?”

  Sarah studied the van and was certain. Its hazard lights were blinking and one of its tyres was flat. “Come on,” she said to Howard. “We’ve got the bastards.”

  They raced down Elizabeth Tower and bumped into the guard, David, at the bottom.

  “Everything good?” he asked.

  “Ask me in ten minutes,” Sarah told him. “If it looks like I just kicked the shit out of someone, then yes, everything is absolutely dandy.”

  FAMILY

  Sarah and Howard raced for the car. Sarah’s heart was thumping. Every second it took to reach the van was a second Hesbani could be getting away. When they reached the Jag, Sarah threw herself into the driver’s seat, ignoring the agony of her multiple wounds, and started reversing before Howard even managed to get fully in the car.

  Crossing over Westminster Bridge, Sarah had to fight the urge to batter the horn. Traffic crawled between pedestrian-covered pavements, but the last thing she could afford was to alert Hesbani they were coming. There was also a chance that she was racing headlong into danger, but there was no time to worry about that.

  Howard got on the radio. “Palu, we have a possible target sighting. North bank, outside County Hall. Black transit van with rear, roof-mounted spoiler. Alert authorities. Back-up needed.”

  “Roger that,” Palu came back. “Will alert local authorities. Mattock en route to provide back-up.”

  “Tell him to hurry his arse up,” she said. “I could really use him about now.”

  “Roger that. Engage target if necessary, but be careful. You don’t know what to expect.”

  “Don’t worry,” Sarah said. “The only people dying today are terrorists.”

  The radio clicked off and Sarah put her foot down as the traffic opened up ahead. She glanced at Howard beside her. “You ready, partner?”

  “Hell yes. Time to kick Hesbani’s arse.”

  She laughed. “You sound like me.”

  “Not necessarily a bad thing.”

  “Don’t get soppy on me.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, Captain.”

  “It’s Sarah. Now, let’s do this.” They reached the end of the bridge and raced into oncoming traffic, crossing the lanes and heading for the parked-up van on the other side. There was a cacophony of blaring horns and swerving tyres, but it was too late for Hesbani to get an early warning. The Jag skidded to a stop right in front of the van.

  “Police,” Sarah shouted, leaping out of the car. “Or something like that.” She pulled out her SIG and nearby pedestrians scattered. Mobile phones appeared out of pockets and went up in the air. Some dialled 999 while others captured video footage.

  Howard and Sarah each approached opposite sides of the van. Sarah took the passenger side with the sliding door. The windows were blacked out, but Sarah could see that there was nobody in the front seat. “I’m opening the side door,” she shouted to Howard. “I’m going after three.”

  “Roger that.”

  “One…” Sarah threw the door open, trying to catch any occupants unaware. The plan didn’t work, as she was the one taken by surprise. Hamish leapt out of the van, smashing his meaty forehead into Sarah’s face.

  Sarah staggered backwards as she felt her nose break. The blood came thick and fast, but she was determined. She blinked away the tears and wiped away the blood with the back of her sleeve. Then she growled.

  Hamish took off in a fast limp, the wound where’d she’d shot him was wrapped in a thick white bandage. As he ran, he fired wildly behind him, causing chaos in the streets.

  Sarah was about to go after Hamish, ready to chase him to the ends of the earth if necessary, but Howard stood in her way. He pointed to the van’s interior, his face stark white.

  Sarah looked quickly, then choked. “Holy shitballs! Is that what I think it is?”

  The van’s rear compartment was chock-full of plastic explosives. Bricks of the stuff had been piled on top of a wooden pallet. At either end of the pallet were dozens of glass containers filled with amber liquid. Whatever it was, there were enough explosives inside the van to wipe Westminster off the map.

  Sarah looked towards the bridge. Hamish was getting away. “There’s nothing I can do here,” she told Howard. “Call this in. I’m going after Hamish.”

  Howard shook his head, confused. “Who?”

  Sarah realised she hadn’t yet explained about Hamish, but there was no time to get into it now. “Just call it in,” she said, and then sprinted towards the bridge. Already, she was losing sight of Hamish, but she wasn’t going to let him get away. Not this time.

  Sarah sprinted, managing to reach a speed she’d not managed since her days in the army, before her thigh had been torn up by IED shrapnel. It felt good to feel her muscles moving in sync again, her entire body focused towards the single goal of momentum. It was like a rebirth. The tiredness and pain of the last few days had ebbed away and she felt strong and powerful, fully awake for the first time in ages.

  Sarah caught sight of Hamish and gained on him. He wasn’t in shape like he’d been six years ago and the wound in his leg was slowing him down. Several times, he glanced over his shoulder at her and saw that she was closing the distance between them. He was halfway across the bridge when he realised he wasn’t going to get away. He stopped and pointed his gun at her. It was the SIG he had taken from Sarah.

  “Stop right there, Captain,” he yelled at her. “Not another wee step, yer hear me?”

  Sarah slowed right down, but still strolled towards him casually. She had her own weapon out now, but kept it hanging by her thigh. “You’re done, Hamish,” she said matter-of-factly. “We know all about Hesbani’s plan. We’ve got your van full of explosives and we’ll find your stashed rifle. It was a stupid plan, you were never a marksman.”

  Hamish grinned. “Aye, you’re right there. I never was much cop with a rifle, was I? I only joined the Army to avoid the doll queues. Still, I was a loyal soldier all the way, straight as an arrow, for all the good it did me.”

  Sarah wasn’t about to get dragged into the past, not when she was finally ready to let it go. “You’re going to have much more to worry about than the unemployment line when this is all over, Corporal. What the hell were you thinking, working with Hesbani? He slit your throat, Hamish. I watched him do it.”

  “Aye, he did, but it wasn’t him what killed me, it was you, remember? You made the choice.” He lifted his head to show a swollen scar across his throat that almost put Sarah’s wounds to shame. It was a thick pink slug, slithering from ear to ear.

  “I’m sorry,” Sarah said, and meaning it wholeheartedly. “I made the wrong decision. I was afraid and it made me selfish. It still doesn’t explain all this, though. Killing innocent people doesn’t make anything better. It doesn’t make anything right.”

  The sound of sirens came from both sides of the river. Police arrived in squad cars and blocked both ends of the bridge.

  Sarah raised her SIG, pointing it right at Hamish’s chest. “You’re finished, Corporal. Stand down.”

  Hamish laughed. “A captain is supposed to protect his men. You chose your own well-being over mine. You turned your back on me, and then guess what?”

  “What?”

  “The goddamn government refused to
pay my daughter any money because I wasn’t confirmed dead.”

  Sarah hadn’t even known Hamish had a daughter. “I told them you were dead. I said I saw you die.”

  “Aye, I’m sure yer did. Didn’t stop ‘em welching on their obligation to look after my family, though. Fucking crooks.”

  “But you’re not dead,” said Sarah, reaffirming her grip on her gun. “So they didn’t owe you anything anyway.”

  Hamish growled, hatred seething from his pores. “I was left for dead and abandoned by my bloody captain, not to mention I was kept prisoner for a year. Believe me, that’s as good as dead.”

  “So what changed? When did you go from prisoner to terrorist?”

  “I’m not the terrorist, the UK government is the terrorist. I realised that when one of their bombs hit a school in the Afghani village I was being held in. Do you know what it’s like to see children on fire? It changes you. After that day, I begged Hesbani to let me help him get revenge. Six months later he finally trusted me enough to let me go back home, working for Shab Bekhier of course.”

  Sarah sighed and her gun lowered slightly. “Mistakes happen in war.”

  “I’ll never accept that,” Hamish spat. “Not if it means seeing more innocent children die.

  “Your bombs have killed children in this country,” Sarah said. “You’re a hypocrite.”

  Hamish sneered. “Our children aren’t innocent. They’re brats bred on consumption. Their sacrifice will help save the truly innocent.”

  “What happened to the man I served with?” Sarah asked. “You were never like this. You wanted to help the people of Afghanistan.”

  “You left him to die in the desert.”

  “What could I have done?”

  Hamish swallowed and looked like he might combust with hatred for her. “You could have done your job and protected your men. You could have saved me, but you chose yourself and that fucking baby inside of you.”

  Sarah swallowed. “You don’t understand anything, Hamish. You think I got away scot free? I died in that desert just the same as you did.”

  Hesbani softened slightly. “We should never have been there, Sarah. Don’t you realize that? Look what they did to you. Did they treat you like a hero for all that you gave? Did they apologise for what happened to your face?”

  Sarah thought about how she’d been discarded after her blow-up at Major Burke in her hospital bed. The Army liked to make out that an injured soldier only had themselves to blame. The report had said: ‘Captain Stone breached protocol by assisting an unidentified civilian.’ It went on to blame her for the death of her squad. The woman with the watermelons had ended Sarah’s life, but it was her own government who put dirt on her coffin. “No, they didn’t treat me like a hero,” she finally admitted, “because I wasn’t one.”

  “Then what are you doing?” Hamish said. “Why are you fighting for a country that doesn’t give a wee shit about you?”

  “I’m not doing it for my country, I’m doing it for twenty-nine dead children.”

  Hamish nodded thoughtfully. “Well, I suppose we have something in common then.”

  “I suppose we do.” Sarah raised her SIG and let off a shot. She hit Hamish in the shoulder, knocking her original SIG from his hand and throwing him against Westminster Bridge’s railing. As his sleeve rolled up, she spotted a dagger tattoo on his wrist which made her snarl with rage.

  Hamish gritted his teeth, starting to sag. “Fuck you!” he spat. “You don’t even know what you’re fighting for.”

  “You’re finished, Corporal. Stand down before I put you down.”

  Hamish laughed hysterically. “I may be finished, but Hesbani isn’t. You really think I’m the shooter? I couldn’t hit a barn door with a rocket launcher. You have the right plan, but the wrong player.”

  Sarah took a step forward, lowering her SIG. “Start talking. Who’s the shooter? And the woman with Hesbani, who is she? Where is she?”

  Hamish just grinned.

  Sarah fired off a shot into his knee. The sound of gunfire brought armed police hurrying up each end of the bridge. They approached cautiously, shouting warnings to stand down.

  Hamish slumped to the ground, clutching his knee and gritting his teeth as he continued refusing to give voice to the pain.

  Sarah pointed the gun at his head. “I’ll give you credit, you’re a whole lot tougher than I remember.”

  “Conviction does that to a man. Do what you want to me, my conscience is clean.”

  Sarah pressed the gun against Hamish’s forehead. “Might as well send you on your merry way then. Ready to see what’s waiting for you on the other side? I’m pretty sure there aren’t going to be any virgins.”

  “If you kill me, the police will take you down. Whoever you’re working with, you don’t have the authority to kill people in the middle of a London street.”

  Sarah saw spiralling helicopters converged above Westminster Bridge and the police at either end. Hamish was right. If she fired one more shot, the police would gun her down.

  The radio on Sarah’s lapel squawked as Howard’s voice came though. “Sarah, the bomb squad are on their way. The Met have called off the parade. The Queen is already onboard her royal barge, but she’s being returned to HMS Britannia under heavy guard. She’ll remain onboard there until the threat has passed. It’s over, Sarah. Let the police take things from here.”

  Sarah turned the radio off. She removed the muzzle of her gun from Hamish’s forehead and stepped back. “You’ve lost,” she said. “The Queen is safe. They’re taking her to safety right now.”

  Hamish spat blood on the pavement. “You think so? Far as I see it, Her Majesty is still out in the open. Doesn’t sound like she’s safe to me.”

  Sarah frowned. “Where is the sniper? Where is Hesbani?”

  “You’ll never get to him in time. Doesn’t matter where the Q

  ueen is, he’ll be able to get her.”

  The choppers overhead circled. Sarah knew now where to find Hesbani, but before she could ask more questions, Hamish leapt up on his good leg and shoved himself against the railing. At first, Sarah thought he was going to make a grab for her gun, but then he threw himself over the railing. By the time Sarah reacted, there was nothing below but frothing water where Hamish had landed.

  With the situation defused, the police started up either end of the bridge. They pointed assault rifles at Sarah and shouted for her to drop her weapon and hit the ground. Sarah held onto her SIG for the time being, though. It was the only thing keeping the police from rushing her. She opened up her radio so that MCU could hear her, but she also spoke loudly enough that the police would hear as well. She didn’t care who was listening, as long as someone was.

  “There’s still a terrorist threat,” she shouted. “The Queen is in danger. I think the sniper is in a news chopper.”

  “DROP YOUR WEAPON!”

  “There is going to be an attempt on the Queen’s life any minute.”

  “DROP YOUR WEAPON OR WE WILL FIRE.”

  Sarah released her grip on her SIG, but couldn’t bring herself to drop it. As soon as she did that, the police would rush her and she wouldn’t be able to fight anymore.

  “THREE SECONDS. THREE…”

  Sarah swallowed.

  “TWO…”

  A voice came over Sarah’s radio. “Sarah, I hear you loud and clear, mate. Looks like you could do with a lift out of there, sharpish.”

  It was Mattock. Sarah gushed when she heard his calm cockney voice. “Mattock. Shit, I could really do with a way out of this.”

  “Roger that. I’m here to drag your arse out of the fire, luv.”

  Sarah glanced around the bridge. “Where are you?”

  “I’m here!”

  Sarah was almost blown sideways as the Griffin helicopter swooped down beside the bridge. The police were taken by surprise and leapt down into cover by the railings. Sarah shielded her hair to stop it blowing everywhere and blinding her.
/>   “Stop pissing around and hop onboard,” yelled Mattock. “Time’s a wasting.”

  Sarah glanced at the police squads. They were already getting up and coming back towards her. She had to move now.

  Screw it!

  She hopped back, to get a run up, and then sprinted towards the railing. She leapt into the air, getting her foot up on top of the steel railing and launching herself off the bridge. For a moment it felt like she was flying.

  Voices of the police shouting at her seemed to fade away as she fell.

  Mattock grabbed a hold of her in mid-air and dragged her onboard. “You okay, Sarah?”

  She nodded.

  “What do you know? Where’s Hesbani?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but I think he might be in a news chopper.”

  “No place I’d rather be as a sniper,” Mattock said. “The Queen is en route east to the HMS Britannia.”

  “Then that’s where we head,” she said. “Wait, who’s piloting this thing?”

  Mattock nodded to the cockpit. “Mandy. No one I’d rather have at the stick than him, even with a bullet wound in his chest.”

  Sarah climbed into the co-pilot’s seat and looked across at Mandy. He was focused, jinking the helicopter left and right with unnatural skill. There was a bulge beneath his shirt where a heavy bandage no doubt covered his wound.

  “You okay?” she asked him.

  He turned to her, a blank expression on his face, and then said, “Just a flesh wound. Glad you’re still with us, Sarah.” Then he refocused on flying them over the Thames as quickly as possible.

  As Sarah watched the deep lines of focus on the big pilot’s face, along with the protective stares from Mattock in the back, Sarah couldn’t help but feel like she was among family.

  KICK OFF

  Sarah joined Mattock at the rear of the helicopter where he was adjusting the sights on an AR-15. “I didn’t bring anything bigger,” he apologised, “but Mandy can loose a couple of Hellfires if need be.”