Red Notice

101

Where the fuck was Ashton?

Gavin charged out of the holding area and scanned the outside of the building in both directions before deciding to head right, towards the tunnel entrance.

‘Boss! We’re back on. The train’s coming out, and we’ve got a sniper option…’

Ashton spun round, pocketing his mobile.

Gavin exploded — the major bending his ear was the last thing Tom needed right now. ‘I said not to call him, for fuck’s sake. He’s got enough on his plate!’

Ashton stood his ground. ‘When I want your advice, Warrant Officer Marks, I’ll ask for it.’ He turned and stormed back towards the entrance to the hangar.

Gavin followed, close on his heels. Something wasn’t right. If Ashton hadn’t made the call, why was he being so defensive? And if he had, why didn’t he have the kind of up-to-date int that Tom would know was vital to the formation of a plan of attack?

Gavin made himself a promise. One way or another, he’d find out what Ashton was up to. And if the boss had put Tom’s life in danger, he’d be in severe shit. Gavin would make sure of that.

They went through the shutters together. Gavin got straight on the net. ‘Hello, all call-signs, this is Alpha. Sit-rep. A Chinook will be landing in plus ten. And soon after that the train will exit the tunnel. The X-rays will exchange from the train to the heli.

‘This is a warning order for a sniper option. All Blue and Red Sierra call-signs, return to the holding area now. All other Blue and Red call-signs to remain in the service tunnel for orders over the net. You are to detain all of the Yankees in the service tunnel. I say again, all Yankees to remain in the service tunnel until after the option. Blue One, acknowledge.’

‘One, roger that,’ Jockey said.

Gavin could still hear screams in the background. He glanced through the window. Emergency vehicles were being hurriedly moved away from the killing area. He saw Ashton striding towards the Transit van. He kept one eye on him as he started to write a quick set of orders for the sniper option. Something definitely wasn’t right…

The sniper option was a co-ordinated shoot, all weapons firing simultaneously at multiple targets. Blue and Red marksmen would both be on the ground, as close to the killing area as they could be without compromise. The normal distance was about three hundred metres. They’d position themselves at as many different heights and angles as possible. Each X-ray would be allocated at least two snipers, to increase the odds of at least one hit.

Keenan would place both teams’ snipers as soon as he’d done a quick recce and been shown the killing area — the twenty metres that the X-rays would have to cross between the train and the Chinook. Keenan would then go and tie bits of tape to fences unless there were enough wind markers already — a flag maybe, fluttering on a flagpole. There usually were some in places of strategic importance for exactly that reason. He’d put a series of indicators at different heights, so the snipers could judge and compensate for the varying strengths of wind. They had to get it right first time. The objective was one round, one kill.

Since X-ray One was carrying the initiation device, Gavin wanted Keenan and two other snipers on him. He’d normally have commanded and co-ordinated, and not taken a shot. But Gavin wasn’t sure how many X-rays were going to be coming out, and it was all hands to the pump.

The objective — to drop every X-ray a split second after Gavin had given the ‘go’ — involved a major feat of co-ordination. The Yankees would take a second or two to assimilate what had happened, like deer caught in oncoming headlights. Bodies would have tumbled to the ground, blood spurting and splattering all over the place. Some would go into shock and stand frozen to the spot; others would scream, shout, run around, drop to the ground. There would be absolute chaos.

Also on the ‘go’, at the moment the snipers fired, the assaulters would pour out of the service tunnel and swamp the killing area. They’d aim to control the Yankees and take on any X-rays who hadn’t been dropped or were just wounded. The theory was simple, but Gavin knew these options rarely went according to plan. The X-rays didn’t always do what you wanted them to do. Sometimes they were too well covered by the Yankees for a sniper to get a clear sight picture on them. Which meant the assault team had to deal with them. And fast.

The Sentinel SCS (sniper co-ordinated shoot) device helped Gavin give the ‘go’ at exactly the right moment. It looked like a fat laptop. A series of green and red lights — three rows of eight — sat side by side beneath the lid. The call-sign it represented could be written alongside each pair. Gavin could therefore have twenty-four snipers on one co-ordinated shoot. He wished he had more than half that number today.

When each marksman had a clear sight picture on his allocated X-ray, he’d take first pressure on his trigger. A transmitter in the weapon’s butt would signal the Sentinel’s console to switch the light from green to red, telling Gavin that he could take the shot.

If the sight picture was lost, first pressure would be released, and the light would return to green. No individual sniper had any idea of anyone else’s readiness. It didn’t matter. They weren’t co-ordinating the shoot. All they had to do was concentrate on their own perspective and wait for the ‘go’.

Gavin’s eyes would be glued to the screen as the X-rays exited the train and crossed the killing area. In a perfect world, he’d be looking at ten red lights. In the real world, they blinked from red to green and back to red. If he waited too long for a complete set, he could screw up and lose the shoot. If he went too early, they might leave too many X-rays alive. The result hardly bore thinking about: more dead hostages as the team came out of the service tunnel; more dead team members; and a South Ossetian madman with an initiation device they had to assume would detonate the pipeline charge.

As far as Gavin was concerned, as soon as he had two red lights on X-ray One, he was going to give the ‘go’.