One Way sa-5

by Tom Barber

  A silence fell. Archer saw the brooding expression on Barlow’s face across the room and guessed what was on his mind.

  Or who.

  ‘He wouldn’t have known anything about it,’ he said. ‘It was instant.’

  Silence.

  ‘I can’t believe they killed him,’ Barlow said. ‘He was invincible. Our boss. Shit.’

  ‘It was quick,’ Vargas said.

  Pause.

  ‘We can’t stay here,’ Barlow said. ‘Whoever these guys are, they’ll find us.’

  ‘Can we force our way out?’ Helen asked.

  ‘With a wounded man and a small girl?’ Vargas said, holding Jennifer close. ‘They’ll cut us to pieces. And we don’t even know who these men are, or how many of them are here. There could easily be a squad of them for all we know.’

  ‘So what do we do?’

  ‘We wait for reinforcements,’ Vargas said.

  ‘So where the hell are they?’ Barlow said.

  ‘They’ll come.’

  ‘But what if they find us first?’

  ‘This is a big building,’ Archer said, with more confidence than he felt. ‘We could be anywhere. It’ll take them time to clear it.’

  There was a pause. In the silence, Carson opened his mouth like a child, staring up at the ceiling, wonderment in his eyes.

  ‘And we’re still alive,’ Archer said, looking over at Jennifer. ‘Let’s keep it together and ensure it stays that way.’

  Barlow went to reply, but suddenly there was the same noise from outside as earlier, a distant familiar thumping.

  It was increasing, getting louder and closer, coming from downtown.

  The group looked at each other; Vargas turned to Barlow and smiled.

  ‘You wanted back up, Jared? Here they come.’

  Down on the street, Shepherd, Marquez and Josh were standing beside Hobbs, who’d set up a command post beside his Department-issue vehicle. Dalton had stopped his protestations for the moment, joining them. Although this was a Federal operation, his people didn’t have immediate access to a chopper and ESU did. They were also drilled and professionally trained for an aerial assault, whereas the Marshals were primarily a ground entry team. As much as Dalton disliked this being in someone else’s hands, Hobbs had a point. At the end of the day, they all wanted the same thing.

  Hobbs grabbed his radio. ‘Briggs, give me a sitrep.’

  ‘Twenty seconds, sir. Roof is clear.’

  Looking downtown, Shepherd, Josh, Marquez and Dalton saw the black shape in the early evening sky moving over the Upper West Side, coming closer and closer. Hobbs nodded, turning to Shepherd, one NYPD man to another.

  ‘Here we go.’

  On the 16th floor, Castle was clearing an apartment alone when his earpiece suddenly went off. He was one of the two guys who’d set up some equipment on the roof, in charge of dealing with an aerial assault.

  ‘Chopper coming!’ Joker said. ‘It’s ESU!’

  Turning, Castle raced out of the apartment and down the hallway.

  He sprinted up the north stairwell, taking the stairs two at a time.

  Sweeping through the clammy night air, the ESU chopper slowed and hovered over the West 135th tenement block, the rotors whirring in a whumping blur, mirroring what the other chopper had done less than thirty minutes earlier. Up front, the pilot spoke into his radio as Hobbs’ ESU team sat in the back, ready and raring to go. All of them were dressed in the standard police-issue navy blue combat fatigues, helmets strapped to their heads, AR15 assault rifles slung across their backs and black gloves on their hands.

  Their side doors were open, coils of rope ready to be thrown out to be used as entry points. They would start from the roof and work their way down floor by floor, taking out the enemy, locating and securing the group of Marshals and the child.

  ‘Lieutenant, we’re in position,’ the pilot said.

  Down on the street, Hobbs looked up. Beside him, Shepherd and Dalton didn’t speak, watching in silence.

  ‘OK. Go!’

  Hooked up to the same transmission, the ESU Sergeant in the back gave the thumbs up to his men. Throwing out the ropes and checking their harnesses, they all abseiled down onto the roof, two sets of six, twelve men sliding down the cords in smooth and immaculately-drilled fashion. It took less than ten seconds, mirroring the entry of the anonymous response team earlier, and soon the entire task force were grouped on the roof of the building.

  They each unslung their AR15s and knelt in firing positions, covering each other’s backs.

  ‘First Team is on the roof,’ the Sergeant said into his radio.

  As the helicopter rose, pulling back from the building with the ropes still hanging down from its cabin, the twelve man ESU team took a moment to take stock, aiming out in a circle, letting their senses calibrate, their eyes protected from swirling dust and grit by protective goggles.

  As they did so, the officers noticed something that hadn’t been visible from above.

  There were six small black blankets placed around the roof, surrounding the men in a large circle.

  The blankets were concealing something.

  Castle burst through the entrance to the stairwell.

  Running up the stairs, he peered over the wall and saw the circle of ESU officers.

  He dropped down and picked up a clacker he’d left on one of the steps.

  Staying low behind cover, he closed his eyes and squeezed it.

  Down on the street, Josh was beside Hobbs when the helicopter suddenly reared up. There was the sound of smashing glass from windows on buildings nearby, glass raining down to the street as people ran and ducked for cover from a sudden hail of deadly shrapnel.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ he said. ‘What the hell was that?’

  ‘What’s going on? Briggs, report!’ Hobbs said into his radio, as debris continued to rain down on them.

  ‘Sir, First Team is down!’ the pilot said. ‘I repeat, First Team is down!’

  ‘What? How many?’

  ‘All of them!’

  By the stairwell, Castle peered over the wall again. The clacker had been rigged up to six Claymore mines he and Spades had set up when they arrived, the same weapons as those aimed at the front entrance. With black blankets draped over them, the mines were pretty much invisible from above on the dark tarred surface. Shaped in a boxy curved rectangle, each convex mine contained seven hundred steel balls buried in an epoxy resin and C4 plastic explosive. When detonated, the balls were projected into a firing line at just under four thousand feet per second. There was a reason many dirty-bomb makers imitated the design.

  One Claymore could cut down an entire group of people with one push of a clacker.

  Six of them daisy-chained together in a circle could shred an entire platoon.

  He saw what was left of the ESU task force spread out on the roof. Twelve cops, the NYPD’s finest, dropped in one moment with not a single bullet fired.

  Their AR15s and equipment were scattered everywhere, a sea of bodies, weapons, blood, radios and ball bearings.

  He smiled. Seeing as his own team controlled the lobby, there’d been only one other way into the building available to them and they’d acted exactly as anticipated.

  Looking up, Castle saw the ESU helicopter still hovering, the pilot inside most likely reporting what had just happened and what he could see. Laying down his M4A1, Castle swung a circular tube from a holster by his left shoulder and pulled it out, the sights flipping up into place as the launcher extended. It was an M72 LAW, a light anti-tank weapon made up of two tubes. When drawn open, the launcher armed itself, a 66m HEAT warhead primed and ready to be fired. It was easily portable and unguided, meaning whoever was firing needed to hit their target first time.

  Castle lifted it to his shoulder and aimed at the vessel, narrowing his eyes as the rotors kicked up dust and grit from the roof.

  It was still well within range.

  He put the sights on the underbelly.

/>   Down on the street they were brushing glass and other debris off themselves, still trying to grasp what had just happened, when there was a sudden whoosh in the sky and a large explosion.

  Ducking for cover again, they all looked up and saw the ESU helicopter take a massive hit, a large fireball erupting from its undercarriage.

  Recoiling from the impact, the vessel started to spin, smoke pouring from the rotor, the chopper shaking as it turned.

  ‘Pull up, Briggs!’ Hobbs screamed into his radio. ‘Pull up!’

  The chopper wheeled away to the left but the vessel was heading for the other side of the building towards Riverbank State Park.

  Shepherd, Josh and Marquez watched as it dropped out of sight, going down fast.

  They didn’t see it land but they heard the explosion.

  Up on the roof, Castle heard it too. He walked over to the west side of the building. He saw the burning wreckage of the chopper in Riverbank State Park, fifty yards or so away by the Hudson River, the flames a bright and harsh orange in the dark night as thick smoke billowed up.

  A helicopter and an entire ESU task force dropped in less than twenty seconds.

  So much for the rescue effort.

  ‘Castle, report,’ came King’s voice.

  ‘ESU is down, sir,’ he said, pushing his pressel. ‘So is their chopper.’

  ‘Excellent.’

  Tossing the LAW launcher to the concrete, Castle scooped up his M4A1 from the stairs and moved back down to the door, a smile on his lips and twelve dead cops laid out on the roof behind him.

  TWENTY

  Down in 8A, the group had heard two explosions. Moments earlier, they’d heard the helicopter moving in close, the windows reverberating slightly as it hovered either nearby or above them. Unnerved and confused, they glanced at each other, literally alone in the dark.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ Barlow said.

  They waited. Listening.

  ‘Maybe they’re engaging them?’ Vargas said.

  Together, the pair of Marshals headed towards the window facing the Hudson side, Archer moving across the room and joining them. It was more than unlikely that another sharpshooter would be covering this side, considering he’d have to be hundreds of yards away the other side of the River. Nevertheless, the trio looked down through the side of the curtains, not standing front on, sneaking quick glances at the west side of the building below.

  ‘Holy shit,’ Barlow said.

  There was the burning wreckage of a helicopter in Riverbank State Park, the vessel engulfed in flames, smoke billowing up into the night. They could just make out distinctive white lettering on the tail of the wrecked burning vessel.

  ESU.

  ‘No, no,’ Barlow said. ‘Not good.’

  The trio looked at each other, realising what had just happened. Vargas then turned to Helen, who was standing near the apartment phone. ‘Is the landline still cut?’

  Helen picked up the receiver from a phone on a desk and lifted it to her ear. She pushed a few buttons then nodded.

  ‘It’s dead. What’s down there?’

  ‘An ESU chopper. It’s been hit.’

  Helen’s eyes widened. ‘What? You said they were our rescue? Were there men inside?’

  No-one responded; the trio withdrew from the curtains, making sure they were fully back in place. An uneasy silence filled the room. All of them were feeling increasingly trapped and increasingly worried. This was getting worse and worse by the minute.

  ‘We need to talk to people outside,’ Vargas said. ‘Inside here, with no communications, we’re sitting ducks.’

  She nodded at the window.

  ‘And they’re not getting to us any time soon.’

  ‘So how do we communicate?’ Barlow said. ‘The phones are dead.’

  Archer turned to Helen. ‘Are there any other phone lines in the building? Anywhere?’

  She thought about it. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Anything.’

  ‘I think there’s an old emergency line up on 22. Don’t know if it works though. Or if it’s even still there.’

  ‘An emergency line?’

  ‘It’s a fire phone, next to an extinguisher. But I don’t know if it’s connected. I don’t think it’s ever been used. It’s been there for years.’

  Archer glanced at Vargas, who nodded.

  ‘Whoa, wait a minute,’ Helen said, reading their minds. ‘You can’t go out there. We need to stay put. You don’t know who these people are, or what kind of weaponry they have.’

  ‘We have to do something. And the ESU team might have made it onto the roof before the chopper took the hit. We can meet up with them.’

  ‘But those other men appeared out of nowhere. You don’t know how many of them there are. You just said that yourselves.’

  ‘We stay here, it’s only a matter of time before they find us,’ Vargas said, as Archer nodded, pulling the USP from the back of his waistband and checking the clip. ‘And we’re running out of options.’

  Helen stared at her, the red and blue lights from below flashing through the curtains covering the south-facing window behind her, not liking the plan. Barlow didn’t speak. Whispering something to Jennifer and hugging her, Vargas scooped up the M4A1. She pulled out the magazine, a round gleaming back, then slotted it back into the weapon and looked over at Barlow.

  ‘Can you hold the fort here?’

  ‘Since when have you started giving orders?’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘OK Jared, we can swap. You can head up to 22 and I’ll stay.’

  He shook his head. ‘No way. I’ll watch the kid. I don’t fancy dying tonight.’

  Checking his own M4A1, Archer turned to Helen.

  ‘Whereabouts is this phone?’ he asked. ‘Be specific. We won’t have long up there.’

  ‘22, middle of the corridor. Red box. You can’t miss it.’

  Down on the street, Hobbs was in a state of shock. Including the chopper pilot, thirteen of his people had just been killed in a matter of seconds, their rescue effort annihilated, the chopper swatted aside like an irritating fly. All of his angry defiance and hostile attitude towards Dalton had evaporated. He was sitting by his truck, several of his remaining men with him, on the phone with one of his superiors and trying to explain what the hell had just happened. In their entire history, ESU had never lost a team like that so easily. All of those officers had been standing here ten minutes ago.

  Now, they were all dead.

  Standing in the street, Dalton, Shepherd, Marquez and Josh watched him in grim silence. They could hear distant sirens of several fire trucks approaching; the group caught a glimpse of the vehicles racing up Riverside Drive a street over, headed towards the burning wreckage of the chopper. Several NYPD blue and whites had pulled round to the scene soon after it had happened, and their reports confirmed that the helicopter had been totalled, landing in the stretch of Park adjacent to the Hudson. Thankfully, no members of the public had been killed; the same couldn’t be said for the pilot.

  ‘This is unreal,’ Josh muttered.

  ‘They knew we’d try the roof,’ Shepherd said. ‘Hobbs’ team landed right in their trap.’

  Watching the shell-shocked ESU Lieutenant explaining himself on the phone, Shepherd turned to Dalton.

  ‘No more bullshit. Men from my team just died. Time you told us who this witness is. Why are people so desperate to kill her?’

  Dalton stared up at the building.

  He didn’t say a word.

  Easing the door of 8A back almost painfully slowly, Archer checked the hallway.

  It was empty. He slid out, the assault rifle locked into his shoulder. Vargas followed, doing the same. She pulled the door shut behind them gently, and heard Barlow replacing the refrigerator the other side of the wood, shunting it back into place, the underside scraping across the floor. Barlow had his Glock, USP and two spare mags for each so Jennifer would have sufficient protection for the time being. Helen was staying c
lose to Carson, keeping close tabs on him. Her resistance to Archer’s and Vargas’ course of action had continued all the way until they stepped outside.

  However, the pair now outside the apartment knew they had to do something. Rescue wasn’t coming anytime soon. If they were going to get out of here alive, they’d have to figure it out themselves. If they waited, they’d be found.

  If they were found, they would almost certainly be killed.

  The stairwell to their right, the main corridor stretching away to their left, the two of them stood there, waiting, listening. Archer glanced over his shoulder at Vargas, who motioned with her head. She took point, the pair moving into the south stairwell, Archer keeping his M4A1 trained on the long corridor behind them as Vargas took the lead. Keeping their movements slow and quiet, they checked down then looked up through the gap in the railings. Everywhere their eyes went, the M4A1s followed. There was noise coming from the building but it was muffled shouts and rap music from somewhere, nothing threatening.

  She went to start moving up but he grabbed her arm.

  A few floors above, someone had just pulled open a stairwell door and stepped out.

  They were coming this way.

  After his work on the roof, Castle had hooked up with Spades and they’d just cleared the 10th floor, moving from the north side to the south. They’d been assigned 10 to 16, but so far, no luck, no sign of these assholes anywhere.

  Heading down the south stairwell, they came to a halt on 8, the door pushed back and held in place by a door wedge. Spades looked down the corridor. It was long and empty, a couple of apartments left open from the sudden evacuation of the building, although most of the doors were shut. Spades was a guy whose temper was always simmering, waiting to boil over.

  Staring down the hallway, he hawked and spat, pissed off.

  ‘They could be anywhere,’ he said. ‘They could have doubled back on us somewhere and be in a room we’ve already checked.’

  ‘We’ll find her,’ Castle said. ‘Relax.’

  He pulled a pack of smokes from his overalls and offered one to Spades, who declined. Drawing one into his mouth from the pack, Castle pulled a lighter and sparked it.