Hot Zone (Major Crimes Unit Book 2)

by Iain Rob Wright

  Wilder nodded. “Mattock is already in pursuit. Special Branch snipers have been on the roof for the last hour. Major Stone has no place to go. He can’t escape.”

  “He doesn’t want to escape,” said Howard. “He’s ready to die and wants to take the whole world with him.”

  Wilder nodded as if he understood. “Then I saw ‘a new heaven and a new earth,’ for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea.”

  Sarah stared at Wilder in confusion until Howard explained. “This is no time for bible quotes, Wilder. The Book of Revelations can wait for another day.”

  Wilder nodded. “Amen, brother.”

  They headed back out into the hallways, leaving behind bloody footprints and memories of carnage. Even if they managed to stop Major Stone, nothing would ever be the same. Today would be a bloody entry forever etched in the history books. The Parliamentary Massacre of 2015, committed by her father, Major Jonathan Stone, father of Captain Sarah Stone. Now, Sarah would be ostracised for her lineage as well as her face. Her father was a worse man than she had ever thought him to be. She would be doing the world a favour by being the one to place the full-stop on his life.

  They headed out of the building and were met by a Police cordon held by countless officers keeping back the crowds. Blinking flash bulbs went off like disco lights, even in the bright afternoon sunlight. Her face would be on tomorrow’s papers — the disfigured daughter of a traitor — but none of that mattered right now. If Krenshaw’s virus got out, there would be far more for the papers to worry about than today’s bloodshed.

  Her father was walking through the crowd, pushing Breslow ahead of him, the briefcase held beside him. No one tried to stop him, for all the officers understood the risk of being the one to pull the trigger.

  Wilder let out a whistle. “There must be a hundred fingers on triggers right now, but not a single one brave enough to pull.”

  “Nobody wants to be the one to miss and hit the PM,” said Howard.

  Sarah kept back, wanting to see what her father was planning. Was his plan only to ensure the briefcase opened? Was Breslow his insurance to ensure he lived long enough to see it? Was the virus really so infectious that it would spread regardless of where it was released?

  Major Stone headed down the road slowly, moving his eyes in all direction and making no sudden movement that might prompt a deadly response.

  “Let the PM go,” Mattock bellowed from the front of one of the police units through a microphone.

  Major Stone turned back to answer. “Sergeant Mattock, you should know most of all what I am fighting for. You’ve seen.”

  “Too right,” he said. “And I much prefer it to watching innocent women and children dying. You knew the risks when you signed up. War is bloody, but we’re working our way out of it. It’s men like you and Hesbani who ensure we never get to wash our hands clean of blood.”

  Major Stone didn’t allow himself to be distracted further and started moving faster along the road. He was heading in the direction of Westminster Bridge. The traffic had been halted at the far end and the road and on the opposite bank of the Thames. The way was completely clear. Sarah broke free of Howard and Wilder and headed after her father. The two men went after her, but kept a few feet back, not yet knowing what she planned to do.

  Her father was almost in the centre of the bridge when she finally caught up to him, out of breath and still bleeding from the gunshot wound in her shoulder. Helicopters swirled overhead with the black silhouettes of snipers hanging from them. The tops of nearby buildings also sported the tell-tale flashes of long-range rifle scopes. Major Stone would be hit from a dozen directions if he let go of Breslow for a single second.

  It had to happen here, Sarah decided, in the centre of the bridge where there were no innocent bystanders.

  “Daddy, stop!”

  Major Stone stopped and turned around, dragging Breslow along like a rag doll. “Don’t force me to shoot you somewhere serious, Sarah. I may be many things, but I wouldn’t like to be the type of man who kills his children. Tell your men to back off, too, or I’ll execute the PM right here.”

  Howard and Wilder heard and kept their distance.

  “You don’t have to shoot me,” said Sarah, “and I don’t want you to. I just want this all to be over. I understand why you’re doing this. I’m tired of the way things are, too. It’s all wrong. The wrong people are getting hurt all the time, while the guilty get rich in safety. But don’t you see the hypocrisy of this? I don’t give two shits about Breslow, but if that virus gets out then a lot more children are going to die than in that Syrian orphanage. Have you even thought about that?”

  “I’ve thought about nothing else, but they will die to ensure a better future.”

  Sarah tried to straighten up, but her wounded shoulder would not allow her. She settled for taking a knee and facing her father from lower down. “You sound like a fundamentalist,” she said. “You sound like the type of men you used to hate.”

  “Perhaps I do. It’s probably because I discovered they are just men and nothing more. That is the great lie the government sells to its public, Sarah. They make the other side seem like monsters, and believe me, some of them are, but many are no different to us. The only thing different is the colour of their skin and the word they use to describe God.”

  Sarah shook her head. “You’re blind.”

  “My eyes have never been more open. Any moment now this briefcase will open and things will change forever. It’s your last chance to get out of here.”

  “Give me Breslow and I will. There are snipers everywhere, dad. Giving up Breslow is the only way you get to walk away from this.”

  “I don’t want to walk away from this.” Her father shoved Breslow in the back, but not towards Sarah. He sent the woman toward the bridge’s barrier, keeping his gun on her. There he ordered the PM to climb upwards and once she was perched precariously on the barrier, he vaulted up to join her. It had afforded the snipers the brief opportunity to shoot, but none had.

  Major Stone put the MP5 to Breslow’s temple and held the briefcase over the Thames with the other.

  Sarah got up off her knee and took a step forward. “What are you doing?”

  “Any sniper shoots me and the virus goes into the river, along with Breslow’s brains. People will be drinking it all in their tea by nightfall.”

  “If I have my way,” said Breslow, seeming to come out of her frightened stupor all of a sudden. “The snipers will leave you wounded so I can take you alive. Then I’ll have you tortured and your head put on a spike over Tower Bridge.”

  Major Stone grunted. “How draconian. Use my head as a football for all I care, once this is over.” He lowered his weapon for a second, and began fiddling with the briefcase’s dial.

  “I thought it was on a timer,” said Sarah. “You were bluffing”

  Major Stone clenched his jaw, still fiddling with the dial. “You thinking that this thing is set to blow is the only thing that has kept me alive. Don’t worry, though. I’m about to open it right in the river.”

  Sarah made eye-contact with Breslow, who understood immediately. The PM clenched her hands together and swung them like a hammer into Major Stone’s guts. He doubled over, more in shock than pain, but was distracted long enough that the Briefcase fell from his hands and clattered on the road. Breslow threw herself from the barrier, landing face-first on the hard surface of the road. “Shoot him,” she screamed. “Shoot the sonofabitch.”

  Sarah raised her gun and aimed it at her father’s chest, but she didn’t pull the trigger — couldn’t.

  Major Stone smirked at her. “You just can’t shoot your old man, can you?”

  “Give up.”

  “Not in this lifetime.” Major Stone pointed the MP5 at Breslow and pulled the trigger.

  But not before Sarah had pulled hers.

  The shot was close enough that the round went clear through Major Stone’s ch
est and left him tottering on the barrier of the bridge. He looked at Sarah in shock, his lips sliding back and forth soundlessly, his eyes flickering. He placed a hand to his bleeding chest and then removed it to take a look at his blood. With a chuckle he then spoke to his daughter, “Well done, man. Well done indeed.”

  Then the snipers fired from a dozen direction and sent Major Stone’s dancing body plummeting into the Thames where his body floated and went still.

  There was no time to think before scores of men came running up the bridge from both banks. Howard and Mattock came and took a hold of Sarah first, making sure she didn’t faint and that no one could take her away. But she was okay and waved them off.

  “You just shot your old man,” said Mattock, although he sounded more than a little supportive of the act.

  “Are you okay?” Howard asked her.

  “I’m fine.” She stood back while a group of space-suited gentlemen scooped up the briefcase and placed it inside a plastic crate with great big seals that clamped down around the edges.

  “Did the briefcase go off?” asked Howard. “Did it go off?”

  Sarah shook her head. “He was bluffing. The timer was never set after we left the airport.”

  Mattock huffed. “If I’d know that, I’d have taken his bloody head off myself an hour ago.”

  “Yeah,” Sarah said, walking over to the edge of the bridge and staring down at the water below. Her father’s lifeless body was being dragged into a police boat like the rotting carcass of a seal. His illustrious career ended in ignominy.

  Breslow approached her with a pained limp, rubbing dirt off her suit and combing stray strands of hair back behind her ears. “You’ve saved the day again, Miss Stone. Seems like I need to have you on speed dial.”

  Sarah didn’t smile at the comment. Her expression was blank as she spoke. “The men from my past seem to have a habit of causing trouble and dragging me into it. If you had any sense you’d lock me up and throw away the key.”

  “Nonsense. This country needs women like you to put men in their place. In the House of Commons, I can hold my own, but it’s good to know that when things get tough, there’s a bitch as tough as me who knows how to use a gun.”

  Sarah looked down at the gun in her hands and found it to be an ugly thing. “Half of Parliament is dead.”

  “Yes,” said Breslow, followed by another, more thoughtful, “Yes.”

  The PM was eventually ferreted away by her frantic servants, so Sarah went on over to Howard. She held her wrists out in front of her and said, “I’m ready to face the music. I was part of this.”

  Howard took her gun from her and placed it into his belt. Then he pulled a pair of handcuffs from under his suit jacket and held them over her wrists, but then he hesitated.

  “What are you waiting for?”

  He sniffed and put the cuffs away. “As I see it, the only crime you’re guilty of is shooting a member of the MCU.” He turned to Mattock who merely shrugged.

  “I don’t hold grudges,” he said. “Just buy me a couple beers and we’ll call it even.”

  Sarah chuckled. “How about a dozen?”

  “Then it’s decided,” said Howard.

  “You’re letting me go?”

  “No way. After all this, your arse belongs to me. You want forgiveness, then you can damn well earn it. You’re joining the MCU — permanently, this time.”

  Sarah didn’t even need to think about it. She knew where she belonged. “If the MCU can put up with my ugly mug, then there’s no place I’d rather be.”

  Howard surprised her then by grabbing her shoulder and pulling her in for a hug. “We missed you.”

  Mattock made them both laugh by murmuring the word, “Hippies.”

  It was all over, and for the first time in perhaps her entire life, Sarah felt wanted. She held Howard in the hug long enough for him to eventually drag himself free. “You’ve changed,” he said with a frown. “You weren’t really the cuddly type when we first met.”

  Sarah smiled. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you guys. Never let me get kidnapped by a deranged madman ever again, okay?”

  “No promises.”

  25

  Mattock took Wilder and re-joined the strike team outside the Houses of Parliament, while Howard and Sarah met up with Mandy and headed back to MCU headquarters on the outskirts of High Wycombe. The Earthworm had been half abandoned when Sarah had first visited it and had been in rubble by the time she left, but Howard assured her that the place had changed a great deal in the last six months. MCU’s recent successes had brought an influx of government spending and they were now close to being fully staffed. Their location was still secret, despite the MCU now being a household name in UK law enforcement.

  Mandy took the Range Rover off the main road and onto a field where a ten-minute bumpy ride led to a derelict farm. When she saw the big old barn, Sarah knew she was home. She got out of the car with Howard, while Mandy stayed inside and parked inside the cover of the old barn.

  The secret hatch inside the old shed opened upon Sarah and Howard’s arrival and she allowed him to lead her down the long staircase into the earth. At the bottom they reached the first inner hatch and stepped through into a room she no longer recognised.

  The Earthworm’s tail section was alive, unlike the previously dead and dusty space she had visited. The previously abandoned space, the size of a football pitch, was now staffed with dozens of young men and women, all of them typing at computers or chattering into headsets. Everyone was so busy that not a single one noticed Howard and Sarah’s arrival and they were free to walk right through the centre of the room.

  “Told you things had changed,” said Howard. “We have several dozen analysts working here now and Mattock has been moved to the senior team along with Jessica, Palu, and me. We have a new guy coming soon from the D.C. office to help us coordinate with US operations. I’m afraid Jessica has gone a little too native to be considered a liaison anymore.”

  Sarah chuckled. Her relationship with Dr Jessica Bennett had been strained to begin with, two independent women rarely got along easily, but towards the end they had begun to see eye to eye and had even began approaching the fringes of a friendship. “Is Palu expecting me?” she asked.

  “Yes, I called ahead. He was happy to hear we hadn’t lost you to the other side. Things looked a little hairy, there, for a while. We thought your father had brainwashed you.”

  “He did. I was completely lost, even before my father kidnapped me, but now I finally know who I am. This is where I want to be.”

  Howard nodded. “Good.”

  They headed through the Earthworm’s middle section, which had been a smoking ruin not six months ago, and headed straight for the head section. There, Howard used his thumbprint to open the hatch and they stepped through into the MCU command centre. Palu and Jessica sat there, waiting expectantly. They stood up when they saw her.

  “Captain Stone,” said Jessica in an accent far less American than Sarah remembered. “Glad to have you back with us.”

  “I’m glad to be back, and no ‘Captain,’ please. I’m just a new recruit now.”

  Palu smiled. He seemed smaller and wearier than she remembered, but the glint in his eyes was vibrant and alive. “You’re anything but a recruit, Sarah. Taking down your father can’t have been easy. Are you okay?”

  Sarah prodded the scars on her face and said, “I have a lot of demons in my past, but my daddy was the worst of them all. If I dealt with him, I can deal with anyone. Yeah, I’m okay. I’m actually feeling kind of good, in a way.”

  Howard patted her on the back. “Take a seat, Sarah. We can do the debriefing now and then get some sleep in the dorms. They’ll be more bad guys to fight tomorrow.”

  Sarah took the seat. “I just hope the next villain I have to take down is outside of my family.”

  “Before we begin,” said Palu. “I need to introduce you and Howard to our new Intelligence Officer. He arrived an
hour ago, having travelled from MCU’s newly formed D.C. branch. I’ll just give him a buzz and bring him in.”

  Howard took a seat next to Sarah and looked at Jessica. “What’s the new guy like?”

  “Handsome.”

  Sarah laughed. “Are you on the market, Dr Bennett?”

  Jessica chuckled. “A single lady is always on the market for the right man.”

  One of the room’s side doors opened and a tall man stepped into the command centre. Everyone stood up to greet him, but Sarah did so more quickly than the others. In fact, she leapt to her feet in shock.

  “Thomas?”

  Thomas stepped further into the room and smiled at her. “Hello, Sarah. I’ve missed you.”

  Howard glanced at Sarah. “You know this man?”

  She nodded her head slowly. “Yes, he’s my dead husband.”

  27

  It had been a long and tiring wait. Heathrow had remained on lockdown for forty-eight hours, which made the delay in Moscow almost unbearable. But he was a patient man and had been waiting for far longer than two days for the journey he was finally undertaking. His imminent plans had been ten years in the making and a delayed flight was inconsequential as a result.

  The Russian envoy stepped out of the airport and stretched their legs on the pavement, taking in great lungful’s of crisp British air. It was a glorious day, made even more glorious by their arrival. The city of London had been cowed, its hubris dismantled, first by Hesbani and then by one of its own soldiers turned rogue. The United Kingdom no longer trusted in its safety and there were scant few politicians left alive to provide the public the succour it needed. The rumours of a great, man-made disease currently being held at a Porton Down laboratory gave the nation nightmares and even the confident bluster of Prime Minister Breslow was not enough to give the country back its spine. The United Kingdom was no longer united. It was crumbling into dust. And very soon, it would be finished.

  Yuri was smiling happily. The Russian diplomat had visited the UK many times in the past and often spoke of his fondness for it. Peter was little different and wasted no time in ordering a Cornish pasty from a nearby vendor. It was disrespectful to love a nation more than one’s own and the two Russian diplomats were sickening in their display of affection for the country that was, in many ways, their enemy. It was no secret that Moscow despised the West as much as any Middle Eastern state, but its seat in the global assembly was precarious and came with shackles. As much as Moscow needed to play nice on the world stage, it was only a means to an end. There were more ways to topple the West than by flying Planes into buildings or battling over isolated oil reserves.