by Dc Alden
Mousa’s pulse quickened. A deep-penetration agent in Number Ten? No, he knew of all of the high-level agents. Someone else then, a sleeper who had somehow gained access to the tunnel system. The chaos of the terror attacks could certainly produce such a scenario. So maybe the signal was genuine? He ran his hands over the cabinet, tapping, probing, feeling the joints for any abnormality. He summoned Karroubi with a loud bark.
‘I want this unit taken apart, now!’
Minutes later, Mousa watched with satisfaction as an ingeniously disguised crawl space was exposed at the base of the unit. Shortly afterwards, the engineering team reported the existence of a small room on the other side. Mousa ordered the crawl space cleared and turned to Karroubi.
‘Captain Haseeb has a request. Is there a penal squad close by?’
Major Karroubi had an answer within thirty seconds. ‘Yes, General. There’s one under guard less than a mile from here.’
‘Their crimes?’
‘Most are being held for looting. Some for rape.’
‘Have them brought over here immediately.’
Twenty minutes later, fourteen terrified Arabian soldiers trooped down into the generator room under armed guard. Their weapons and webbing had been stripped from them and they were forced to wear the black armbands and epaulettes of penal troops. Mousa could barely look at them, such was his contempt. He waved a dismissive hand. ‘They’re all yours, Haseeb.’
Several of the penal squad watched in barely-concealed horror as the big Afghan stepped out from the shadows. Haseeb picked out two men, gave them a torch each and ordered them inside the crawl space. One immediately dropped to his knees and began crawling. The other looked the Afghan squarely in the eye and refused point-blank, claiming his presence in the penal squad had been a mistake.
With amazing speed that surprised them all, Haseeb drew a short, curved knife and slit the man’s throat as he protested his innocence. A look of surprise came over the prisoner’s face as Haseeb holstered the blade and pulled him out from the group, shoving him roughly across the room. The man dropped his torch and reached up, his surprise turning to shock, then fear, as warm blood ran freely over his hands, splashing down the front of his combat jacket. By the time he crumpled to the floor, another volunteer had scurried quickly into the crawl space. Mousa tried to keep the look of surprise off his own face at the speed and skill of the knife attack. A shout from inside the cabinet refocused the General’s attention.
‘We’re in a small room,’ echoed the voice. ‘There’s another door here, a big steel one. Wait… I’ve found a light switch.’
The explosion rocked the floor beneath them, sending everyone diving to the ground. A cloud of smoke and debris billowed from the crawl space and filled the generator room. When the dust had settled, Captain Haseeb bundled another penal squad member inside. He reported back a few minutes later, covered in blood and what Mousa presumed to be pieces of human tissue.
‘A cavern?’ Mousa repeated.
‘Yes, General,’ the soldier stammered. ‘And more tunnels, large ones.’
‘Get down there, quickly!’ he ordered the Afghan.
As the remainder of the penal troops disappeared from view, another explosion rocked the floor beneath them. Mousa cursed the delay as Haseeb’s team were forced to drop flares down onto the cavern floor and rappel their way down on ropes. Mousa watched from above as the two surviving penal squad members, moaning in agony beneath the twisted wreckage of the gantry and staircase, were swiftly and expertly released from their pain. Next to Mousa, Haseeb listened to the team’s radio chatter through his headset. After several minutes he turned to the General.
‘It’s some sort of transport system. There are two small-gauge train tunnels, one heading north, the other west. The complex appears to be deserted.’
Mousa fumed silently. No doubt Beecham had been here, and recently; but the tunnel was far more complex than he’d imagined. Speed was what they needed now. Mousa fired off his orders.
‘Major Karroubi, get the assault teams down here now. Captain Haseeb, split your men into two groups and send one up each tunnel. Tell them to look for signs of recent passage. And get the engineers down there. I want power and light as soon as possible. I also want three companies of infantry on the surface at my disposal. Have them assemble in St James’s Park with their vehicles. I want to be able to cut off the Infidels’ escape once we find out where they’re headed.’ Haseeb’s headset crackled again. The Afghan listened intently for a few moments and turned to Mousa. ‘General, we have acquired another transmitter signal, broadcasting on the same frequency as the one in the generator room. It’s faint, but it’s there.’
‘Where?’ demanded Mousa.
‘The westbound tunnel.’
Mousa thought quickly. He turned to Karroubi. ‘My orders stand. Get it done immediately.’
‘Yes Sir.’ The Major limped away. ‘Captain Haseeb, send your men into the westbound tunnel as quickly as you can. We may be right behind them. Remember, the Prime Minister must be taken alive. Go!’
Battersea, South London
It had taken Danesh Khan almost half an hour to climb the fire escape stairs inside Park Heights. On seeing the trucks loaded with armed men approach the complex below him, it had taken him less than fifteen minutes to get back down to the lobby.
He took a moment to catch his breath, then made his way outside onto the mezzanine level, peering carefully over the railing. The armed men were already inside the mall, milling around the deserted shops and restaurants. Khan did a quick head-count. Twenty, maybe more, and in no apparent hurry to leave the scene. Their voices drifted up towards him, the sound echoing around the darkened complex. It wouldn’t be long before they began to move up to the mezzanine level, maybe check out Park Heights tower itself. He had to get out of there.
Keeping low, he made his way outside the building. His instincts told him he would be safer north of the river, to cross Chelsea Bridge and disappear into the streets beyond. It wasn’t the best plan ever, but it was all he could think of at that moment. He took a quick look outside and headed towards the security hut and the ramp beyond.
The approaching headlights blinded him, the roar of the trucks deafening as they thundered up the ramp towards him. Every fibre in Khan’s body screamed at him to run until the truck tooted its horn as it approached the barrier. In that instant, Khan knew that the driver had mistaken him for one of their own. He forced himself to relax. The trucks slowed, hissing to a stop. The driver in the first truck leaned out and shouted something to him over the sound of idling engines.
Khan could see the silhouettes of two figures on the back of the lead truck, leaning on the roof of the cab. The driver shouted again, beckoning Khan towards him urgently. Khan began to back away, very slowly. Although he spoke fluent Punjabi and Urdu, he couldn’t understand this man’s dialect. Now one of the men on the back of the truck joined in, beckoning Khan impatiently. Khan replied in Punjabi, telling them he was going to get help to lift the barrier, hoping the ruse would work. He’d almost reached the mezzanine entrance when a loud crack sent him hurtling through the doors, the bullet smashing through a glass pane less than three feet from his body. He slid along the floor on his stomach, scrambling for cover. He stood up and peered around the shattered door. The first truck had crashed through the barrier and was approaching fast. Khan looked along the mezzanine level to the staircase at the other end of the complex. Two hundred yards at least, and no cover – he’d never make it.
He took a quick look over the railing to the floor below. The men down there had scattered at the sound of the shot and Khan saw several running up the dead escalators to the mezzanine level. It left him with only one possible course of action.
He lifted his weapon and, as the first truck rumbled to a halt outside the glass doors, Khan swung around and fired at the men behind the cab. The long burst sent them tumbling from view and Khan switched targets to the driver, punching several h
oles through the passenger door and window. The truck lurched forward and stalled, the driver slumped dead over the wheel. Khan turned his attention to the second truck and fired several rounds through the windscreen. The driver ducked and pulled the wheel to the right, saving himself but exposing another man on the back of the truck, who held on with both hands as it veered across the road. Khan shot him and the man screamed, falling from the accelerating vehicle. The truck roared onwards and disappeared down an exit ramp. Khan fired a few more rounds to encourage the driver to keep going.
The darkness of the distant riverside complex beckoned. Khan kept to the shadows of the building, cutting across the moonlit car park just as the first bullets zipped past him. He turned to see a dozen bad guys spread out across the road in pursuit. Ahead of him, several large buildings squatted near the river, seemingly dark and deserted. And that meant lots of hiding places.
With bullets cracking overhead, Khan leapt over the hood of an abandoned car and headed north towards the River Thames.
Somewhere beneath St. James’s Park
In the westbound tunnel, Harry slowed from a reasonably paced run to a jog, then a walk. Finally he stopped, resting his hands on his knees while he took in huge gulps of air. He felt like vomiting. Despite his determination to keep up, despite the rumble of explosions behind them, Harry would rather face the prospect of capture than run another step. His head spun and he sank to his knees, retching loudly. Nothing came up except bile.
He heard Gibson order Farrell back down the tunnel to cover their rear. It was clear from the tension in the soldier’s voice that progress had been far too slow and Harry was in silent agreement. They’d only just passed the broken train carriage, which was less than a mile in. Still, once they got to the terminus beneath the Palace another train carriage should be waiting. Hopefully, that one would be in working order. If it wasn’t, they could all be in serious trouble. Harry stood up, cuffing his mouth dry as Farrell returned.
‘Sounds like somebody’s on our arse already. We’ve got to speed up,’ the soldier said, his eyes flicking toward Harry.
The PM raised his hand. ‘Didn’t realise how out of condition I was. I don’t think-’
Forsythe cut him off. ‘Let’s keep moving.’ He headed up the tunnel without waiting. Harry took a deep breath and followed on behind. Farrell disappeared in the opposite direction.
‘Where’s he going?’
‘He’ll try and delay our pursuers. Just keep moving,’ urged Forsythe.
They’d covered another few hundred yards when Gibson raised his arm for the group to halt. As Harry tried to catch his breath, Farrell returned.
‘Two claymores, all set,’ the soldier announced.
Gibson nodded. ‘Sweet. Let’s take point and recce the platform.’
It was only then that Harry noticed a pale light, its faint glow illuminating the curved wall of the tunnel ahead. Thank God, he breathed silently.
A few minutes later, they were jogging up a sloping ramp and onto the brightly-lit platform beneath Buckingham Palace. Harry noticed the cavern here was much smaller than the Downing Street complex, just one platform with several metal benches along its length and a single steel door built into the rough stone wall. Gibson observed that their footfalls created dusty footprints on the platform floor, which meant no one had been down here yet.
An open train carriage waited invitingly halfway along the platform and they piled in quickly, Gibson settling behind a set of uncomplicated controls that consisted of a few digital read-outs and a single lever. He slapped Farrell’s arm.
‘How many claymores you got left?’
‘One.’
‘Rig it in the tunnel behind us.’
While Farrell got to work, Gibson turned to Forsythe. ‘What happens if we get to Kensington Gardens and the comms equipment is buggered?’
‘If we’re unable to contact Alternate One, we may have to commandeer a vehicle and head west.’
‘Drive through London with all this going on? I wouldn’t give much for our chances.’
‘It may be our only choice. We have to get clear of the city while we still can.’ Forsythe checked his watch. ‘It’s after midnight. As long as we’re away by first light, we may have a chance.’
Harry pointed a finger at the ceiling. ‘What about the people up there? I know the King and his family are at Balmoral, but the Palace staff?’
The Brigadier shook his head. ‘We can’t save everyone, Harry. Our priority is getting you to Alternate One.’
After another minute or so, Farrell came running up the platform and scrambled aboard the carriage. ‘All set.’
‘Hold tight, then,’ warned Gibson.
He pushed the control lever forward and the carriage began to move slowly away from the platform. Comfortable with its action, he pushed it further, and the carriage accelerated into the dimly lit tunnel deep below Hyde Park Corner.
The Tunnels
General Mousa blinked several times, as the main cavern was suddenly flooded with light.
‘Power is restored, General.’
Mousa shot the combat engineer a look. All around him, engineering troops had exposed wiring cabinets and ducting panels, and were busy ferreting away inside them. Mousa stood and left the room. He’d only be in their way. Outside the control room, a company of his paratroopers were assembling on the platform area. Behind him, a continuous stream of soldiers abseiled down on nylon ropes rigged from the room above.
‘Captain Haseeb!’ The big Afghan was standing at the entrance to the westbound tunnel, a radio clamped to his ear. On Mousa’s command, he hurried over. ‘Well?’
‘My men have discovered a transportation carriage, General. They are inspecting it now-’
Two loud explosions reverberated around the cavern, sending everybody diving for cover. Only Mousa and Haseeb remained upright. Seconds later, a large cloud of dust billowed out of the westbound tunnel. Haseeb’s radio crackled. He nodded quickly as he listened to the report and then barked another order. He turned to Mousa.
‘More booby traps, claymores, this time. I have three dead, one badly wounded. Have we any more penal troops, General? I cannot waste more of my men.’
Mousa gave him a hard look. ‘There’s no time for that. The British Prime Minister may be just ahead. You are the experts at this type of warfare. Send your men on!’ Haseeb hurried away, barking orders into his radio.
‘Major Karroubi!’ bellowed Mousa, his voice echoing around the cavern walls. The Major, busy organising the rapidly growing number of paratroopers, limped over.
‘General?’
‘Send two platoons into the westbound tunnel to support the SERTRAK team. Stay out of their way and let them do their job, but tell them to secure any prisoners and send them straight back to me.’
‘Yes, General.’
‘What of the other tunnel?’
‘It heads north, more or less. Apart from the odd curve, the tunnel runs almost straight. I’ve sent a squad to recce it. No contact so far.’
For Mousa it confirmed what he already believed. ‘Call them back. Where are my surveillance drones?’
‘On their way, General. They should be here in minutes.’
Mousa took a few paces towards the mouth of the westbound tunnel, momentarily lost in thought. Al-Bitruji had set up his command post in Buckingham Palace. What was it about that place? He turned to Major Karroubi.
‘A map of the area, quickly.’
Karroubi snapped his fingers and a waiting orderly complied. Mousa unfolded the map and laid it on the floor, studying it carefully. After scrutinising it for several seconds, he tapped the document with his finger.
‘The westbound tunnel, it leads to Buckingham Palace, I am certain of it. If the Infidels would go to such lengths to evacuate a Prime Minister this way, the same would surely apply to their Royal family, which means that this system can be accessed from underneath the Palace. Get General Al-Bitruji on the radio. Tell him there
is a tunnel entrance somewhere beneath him. It must be found, quickly. We may be able to get ahead of them.’
Karroubi turned to a waiting signaller, who was already hailing Al-Bitruji’s command post. After a hurried three-way conversation, Karroubi reported that the surveillance drones had arrived and were being brought down to the cavern along with their operators.
‘I’m going to Al-Bitruji’s command post,’ Mousa announced. ‘Have transport waiting for me in Whitehall and call me when the drones are ready to fly. Stay close to the radio, Major. I may need you to move quickly.’
‘As you wish, General.’
Mousa secured himself inside a small harness and was winched up to the room above. There was still blood on the walls where the explosive light fitting had detonated, but Mousa was pleased to see that the false electrical unit and the wall behind it had been removed completely, allowing Mousa to pass unhindered into the generator room. Two paratroopers fell in alongside him as he made his way out into a rubble-strewn Whitehall. Smoke hung like a heavy curtain across the street and distant gunfire echoed on the night air. A Humvee waited, engine idling. Mousa hopped aboard with his escort and the vehicle swung around, heading towards Parliament Square.
The jeep turned right into Birdcage Walk. Mousa watched as hundreds of prisoners, their hands clasped above their heads, shuffled slowly forward towards Parliament Square, guarded by Arabian soldiers. By the look of most of them they were office workers, maybe government personnel. Many wore shirts and ties, and some wore clothes that were torn and bloodied. There were others mixed among them, wearing uniforms; soldiers, police officers, surrendered or captured. Mousa didn’t give much for their eventual fate.
The jeep hummed along the Mall, the driver weaving left and right to avoid the hundreds of discarded parachutes that drifted across the road. When they reached the gates of Buckingham Palace, Mousa saw that the black iron barricades had been wrenched from their concrete plinths and lay twisted on the parade ground. In their place, two armoured fighting vehicles had taken up position either side of the entrance. Mousa watched as their forty-millimetre guns tracked the Humvee as it approached. A soldier waved a fluorescent wand and the vehicle whined to a halt.
