Remember Me 2

by Ian C. P. Irvine

  In some ways, it made sense.

  It was a remote location, far from anywhere else.

  The ideal place to hold a hostage.

  McKenzie had left his car outside the portacabin in Portobello, hopefully giving the illusion to the tracker device that he and his team were still there.

  He had also requested the use of the helicopter, but at the time it was on the west-coast near Arran.

  It was now on its way, just in case it was needed to ferry Fiona straight to a hospital, and was due to arrive shortly.

  The first part of McKenzie’s plan was just about to come to fruition.

  It was in fact, the only part of his plan. What they learned in the next fifteen minutes would determine what happened next. If anything.

  “Is there a problem?” McKenzie asked, standing beside the two large drones which sat on the ground, with their handlers playing with their remote controls and occasionally bending over the drones and tweaking something or other.

  “No, they’re both ready to go. We’re only going to send one up, though. The other’s the backup.”

  When McKenzie had called Fettes to arrange everything he hadn’t appreciated just how large the drone – or ‘Remotely-Piloted Aircraft System’ as he was politely informed by its handler – actually was.

  The drone had two separate cameras, one optical and one fixed-mounted thermal imaging camera: one would give them high definition clear sight of what they could see normally, and the other would pick up any thermal images, potentially showing them anyone inside the farm buildings, depending on their construction.

  They had already viewed images of the farm on Google Maps, but now they needed to see live detail. Was there a car there? If so, they could maybe get its number plate and then use ANPR or CCTV to track its movements earlier that morning and to see if they could identify any passengers. Although most likely, it would be a van, or a car with a large boot in which Fiona would have been hidden.

  Was there activity on the ground they could see?

  Would they be able to see Hamish Hamilton?

  Or Fiona?

  “We’re ready,” the drone’s handler announced, stepping towards McKenzie.

  “You can see everything the drone sees on the screen in the van. It’s slightly larger, and everyone can watch that one together.” The drone man continued.

  “Will the people in the farm-house hear it?” McKenzie asked, having last minute nerves and wondering if the plan was going to work.

  “I doubt it. We’re initially going to be flying it really high until we get an idea of what we can see on the ground. If it’s looking good, we can fly the RPAS down lower so we can get a better view with the thermal camera.”

  McKenzie nodded.

  “Just be careful… we mustn’t alert anyone we’re watching.”

  The man nodded.

  McKenzie felt a little guilty. A quick passing thought about grannies, eggs and sucking, came to mind. He hurried away to the van.

  At the door, he turned and saw the drone steadily rise into the sky, tilt, and then head forward towards the farm.

  The image on the screen was surprisingly detailed. And bright.

  For now, it was zoomed out so they could see the geography passing by underneath as the drone headed towards its pre-programmed SatNav coordinates.

  It only took a few minutes to get there, and suddenly it slowed, came to halt and hovered above the farmhouse.

  The image on the screen then zoomed in slightly, now showing details of a large bungalow style farmhouse and several outbuildings surrounding a courtyard.

  Everyone spent a moment checking for signs of life but found none.

  “How do I tell the drone handler what to do next?” he asked one of the technicians sitting in front of the console in the van.

  “Just close the door behind you, and speak aloud. The RPAS handler has headphones on now, and he can hear you.”

  McKenzie nodded.

  “Okay, can you zoom in on the courtyard first please? What’s that black stuff?”

  As soon as they’d established there was no one visible on the ground, the next most obvious feature they were looking at was a large black mass in the courtyard, surrounded by several other black items around it.

  The drone camera zoomed in.

  As they were watching, the door to the cottage opened and a man stepped out, carrying some more black stuff. He dropped it on the ground and disappeared back out of sight.

  “Shit… did he see us? Do you think he saw us?” McKenzie asked loudly.

  The technician immediately reached up to one of several consoles in front of him on the wall of the van, and switched it on.

  He then typed away on his keyboard and manipulated a command interface on the screen.

  Suddenly the other screen jumped to life and they could see the recorded imagery of the man opening the door and stepping out.

  They saw him drop the black material on the ground, and then turn around and walk straight back into the cottage without looking up.

  “Nope. He didn’t see us.”

  “Can you replay that and blow the image of his face up, and then print it or send it to me?”

  “I can do both. No problem. What’s your email address or phone number?”

  “Never mind. Just print it off and give it to me. You can send it to me later.”

  As instructed, the technician enlarged the image of the man’s face on the screen.

  “Hamish Hamilton!” McKenzie shouted, alarming everyone else in the van.

  Brown nodded.

  “Yep. It looks like we’ve got him.” She said. “But what’s all this black stuff?”

  “It looks like plastic sheeting,” the operator said, zooming in as far as he could go. “Maybe the stuff you use to wrap haystacks in for the winter?”

  McKenzie leaned forward, screwing his eyes up to get a better look.

  The courtyard was littered with the stuff.

  It only took a moment, but he suddenly realised what it was for.

  His pulse started to race, and he forced himself to take several deep breaths.

  “I know what he’s doing.” McKenzie said monotonically. “He’s sealing off one of the rooms in the house. He’s turning it into a big bag. And when he’s finished, when he’s sealed it all off, he’s going to fill it up with gas!”

  Brown exhaled loudly, and involuntarily raised her hands to her mouth. She looked across at McKenzie and shook her head.

  McKenzie reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “Elaine, don’t worry. It’s not going to happen.” He reassured her.

  He turned back to the technician and spoke loudly so the drone operator could hear him.

  “Can you give me a thermal image of the inside of the house?”

  “We’ll try, but it depends on how well insulated the house is.”

  “Try.”

  The image on the screen changed, and now they could see a greyish ghost-like image of the structure of the building.

  “THERE!” McKenzie shouted excitedly, pointing to a second image in the middle of one of the rooms. It was stationary, and from the angle the drone was looking down through the side of the cottage, they could see through the cold wall and discern a human form in a sitting position, with arms wrapped behind its back.”

  “She’s probably tied to a chair. You just can’t see the chair,” the technician said.

  The other image was standing on the side of the room, reaching up with outstretched arms.

  “He may be carrying or trying to fix some more plastic sheeting to the wall. You just can’t see the sheeting.”

  “And he can’t see us either. The windows are probably covered over.”

  McKenzie looked at his watch.

  It was three-twenty. One hour and forty minutes to go.

  “Okay, resume a monitoring position higher up, and keep me informed of any sudden changes.”

  McKenzie opened the door and steppe
d out of the van.

  He and Brown walked across to the head of the armed response unit who had travelled down from Edinburgh and joined them soon after McKenzie had arrived.

  “How’re the preparation’s going?” McKenzie asked the lead officer, Sergeant Galbraith who had helped them out only a few days before in the tunnel at the school.

  “Good. I’ve got ten officers in the team. Eight of the team are now almost in place at different places dotted around the farm. We’re going to come in from all sides, making sure we’ve got all the exits covered, and ensuring maximum possibility to access the property undetected. We’ll probably be set and ready to go in ten minutes?”

  McKenzie looked nervously at his watch again. Only a few minutes had gone by since the last time he’d looked.

  “Good, thanks.” He said to Sergeant, almost absentmindedly. Something was beginning to bug him at the back of his mind.

  A thought. Something. But McKenzie knew it could be important.

  He thought back to what the last phone message had said.

  “They’re both going to die,

  Automatically blown sky-high,

  When the clock reaches five…”

  Then he realised what it was.

  Hamilton was going to blow her up remotely. When the clock reached five.

  “Elaine. Please. Over here a moment,” he said, walking her away from the armed response unit.

  “What is it, Guv. Are you okay?”

  “Yes. Listen, and don’t judge. Just listen. I got a message from Hamilton. About an hour ago.”

  Brown’s face went blank.

  “And what did it say, Guv?” she asked, excitedly.

  McKenzie told her.

  “The thing is. I think he’s going to do this remotely.”

  “Which is good, because the moment he’s leaves, we go in.”

  “Possibly.” He said. “But it could also be bad. If he gets any wind of us being onto him, he’ll blow her up immediately. And take us out too.”

  “Yes, but that’s only if he does it remotely via a phone message or text, or phone signal. He may just do it the old-fashioned way with a clock or electronic timer… In which case we just rush in and disarm it quickly… ”

  “He could. But for some reason I don’t think he will.”

  “Then if you think it’s going to be a phone message, you’ve got no choice but to jam any mobile signals so that no message can get through to the detonator no matter how hard he tries.”

  “Or have the phone network switched off. That would work too!”

  “Can you do that, Guv?”

  “Yes. It’s not easy. But it’s been done before. My only worry is that it might take a while… and we haven’t got much time.”

  “When is Hamilton going to leave?”

  “How do I know? Maybe right at the last moment.”

  “Unless we can get him to leave earlier?”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. It was just a suggestion… ”

  McKenzie stared at her. Maybe it wasn’t such a stupid idea after all.

  “We’ve got another problem, too, though… ” McKenzie carried on.

  “Which is?”

  “He’s making a gas bag. When he sends the signal the bag of gas will blow up. If we go in too heavy-handed we might create a spark that ignites the gas.”

  “True, but I think we can get round that. But that’s not what worries me most, Guv.”

  “So what does?”

  “The gas. If we don’t get in there quickly, Fiona won’t be able to breathe. She’ll be poisoned and die. And even if she doesn’t, the baby might be harmed from breathing in the gas.”

  “Shit, I hadn’t thought about that.”

  “And there can be no shooting. Maybe they can use rubber bullets, or tranquiliser darts, or something, I don’t know. But no metal bullets. The heat of the bullets will ignite the gas and blow everything up.”

  McKenzie stared at Brown.

  For a moment, he just carried on, staring at her, thinking furiously.

  “You okay, Guv?”

  “I’ve got an idea. It might work. It might not. But we’re running out of time and we’ve got to do something.”

  “So what’s the plan, Guv?”

  “Like you just suggested, the way I see it, we’ve got to get Hamilton out of the building as soon as possible. That way maybe we can get in there and burst the bag and let the gas out before it reaches toxic or combustible levels.”

  “True, but I’ve got another idea Guv. Why don’t we switch the gas off?”

  “How?”

  “Get the gas-board to switch off the whole area. Stop the supply.”

  “But Hamilton will notice it.”

  “Not if we time it right. We get him to leave the building. As soon as he does, we switch the gas off, block the cell network and go straight in as soon as he’s clear. We have to do all three, just in case he’s not using the gas from the taps. Maybe he’s using canisters? Or maybe he’s using some of the TNT he’s stolen, and he’s going to set that off with a signal from his mobile. Like I said, Guv, we have to do all three. The big question is how do we get him to leave the building and leave her alone? Do we just wait until he’s ready, or do we force him out of there early? Maybe even before he’s ready?”

  “The latter, if possible.” McKenzie decided. “And I think I may know how we can do it. Or do you think this sounds too crazy…? ”

  McKenzie told Brown his idea.

  Chapter 55

  Wednesday

  Portobello High School

  McKenzie’s Car.

  16.35

  The helicopter had landed in the Figgate Park, and McKenzie and Brown had sprinted across the grass, up into the street and round to the front of the school.

  McKenzie was scared.

  Was it too late?

  The helicopter had taken longer than McKenzie had expected to arrive, but he’d used the time while he’d waited to make all the necessary arrangements and ensure everything was in place.

  McKenzie had been torn.

  Every sinew in his body had cried out to him to stay and be there when the Tactical Team went in to the cottage, but McKenzie knew that his plan would only stand a chance of working if he was here now, back at the school, and in the car.

  So, he’d left everyone else behind, hidden close to the farm and with strict instructions not to use weapons in the open, and not in the direction of the cottage.

  However, McKenzie had made sure that Sergeant Galbraith and the rest of the Tactical Team were fully briefed as to the risks that Hamish Hamilton posed. They knew his sole intention at this time was to kill Fiona McKenzie and that he had already killed four others. Given that a major concern was that Hamilton would be intending to remotely detonate the gas explosion within the cottage, and that he would almost certainly trigger this immediately he suspected that he was being watched or had been discovered, it was decided that should he emerge from the cottage and obviously react in a way which suggested he knew he had been detected, then a Critical Shot was required. This would immediately destroy his brain stem and induce instant flaccid incapacitation, with the result his fingers would relax on any remote controls being held, and remove the danger of him sending any signals remotely to a detonator.

  If, on the other hand, they did not believe that Hamish Hamilton had suspected anything, then they were to allow him to get into his car and drive away from the farm, thus allowing the Tactical Team to go in and rescue Fiona.

  The rest of the plan was so far, touch wood, all going to plan – if you could call it a plan. McKenzie knew he was flying by the seat of his pants. Winging it. Making it up as he went along. But every time he closed his eyes and thought of Fiona and Little Bump, he knew he had no choice. This was the only plan.

  If it worked, they all had a chance.

  If it didn’t…

  The telephone companies had not been happy. McKenzie and his team didn’t know
how many phones Hammy Hamilton had. He could have one for each network, as far as they knew… so they’d had to switch them all off.

  All of them.

  He’d promised it would only be for thirty minutes. No more.

  McKenzie had had to lie. He’d said it was part of Operation Crown. He’d sworn blindly that the drastic action was needed to stop the terrorist who was threatening to kill the Queen. He’d been careful with his words. But it was essentially true: whilst he’d been waiting, an important call had come through from the forensics team in Fettes. It had been confirmed that the TNT which McKenzie had sent over for analysis, was from the same type and batch which had been recovered from locations targeted by the terrorist threatening the Queen. So, McKenzie was telling the truth. What’s more, McKenzie knew that this knowledge was explosive in its own right. As soon as he told DCS Wilkinson, the case would be taken off his hands and all the police and army in Scotland would descend on North Berwick and almost certainly, Hamish Hamilton would kill Fiona. For now, that news could wait.

  He’d spun the same story to the gas company, instructing them to shut off all the gas supply in the area. They’d complained. Kicked back. But McKenzie didn’t need a warrant to ask them to do it, and existing protocols and his authority were enough to make them comply.

  The telephone company also had little choice but to agree.

  They both agreed to switch off the local phone network and the gas supply instantly, as soon as McKenzie called them and gave them the command to do it.

  “Stay by the phone. Wait for my call!” he commanded.

  “Any movement with Hamilton?” McKenzie checked with the technician in the van in North Berwick, who now also had Wishart and Anderson in the van with him.

  “Nothing significant yet. We think we know where his car is now. It’s in the outbuilding across the square from the house. He came out of the cottage about five minutes ago and was carrying a suitcase and a rucksack which he took into it. I think it’s the garage. A few minutes ago, he came back across the square, picked up some more black plastic and disappeared back into the cottage. From what we can see with the thermal imaging, he’s still working on making the room airtight to keep the gas in.”