Red Notice

110

A small flock of gulls that had been disputing possession of a stolen sandwich crust suddenly took flight, soaring skywards, then settling once more above the tunnel’s entrance.

Moments later, the long, sleek nose of a Eurostar locomotive glinted in the sunlight beneath them. At no more than walking pace, the rest of the engine slowly unsheathed itself from the tunnel. Through the tinted-glass windscreen, Gavin spotted the pale, frightened face of the driver. His head was half turned. His lips were moving. He was speaking to the man directly behind him. Gavin guessed there was a machine-gun rammed into his back. A hand gestured at the Chinook, as if the driver couldn’t see it, or had suddenly developed the magic power to steer straight off the tracks towards it.

‘Alpha has an X-ray in engine — brown bomber jacket, short dark hair and beard. He is carrying.’

The snipers would have eyes-on, but not the Blue and Red teams down the service tunnel. And they didn’t have monitors.

Carriage by carriage, the Eurostar inched out of the tunnel. The gentle rumble of its engine carried as far as the hangar.

Gavin dominated the net. ‘Coach One clear… Two… clear. Coach Three — bodies in carriage… wait… wait… twenty to thirty…’

The snipers would be locked on Coach Three. They didn’t need to be on the net: their job was behind their weapons. Gavin was the only one who had to talk.

‘Four, clear… Five, clear…’

Gavin felt a knot of tension in his stomach, but kept his voice flat and even. ‘Slowing…’

The seventh coach emerged from the tunnel.

‘Slowing… slowing… Stop, stop, stop. That’s Eurostar static. Coach Three, closest to the Chinook.’

A figure appeared at the open doorway and clambered down.

Gavin scrutinized the man. He didn’t look like any of the X-rays Tom had photographed, but it was hard to be sure.

Another figure emerged, then a succession of them. They huddled next to the train. Someone was controlling them. Another couple jumped down. The driver’s legs almost gave way beneath him as he touched the ground.

Next out was the one who’d been standing behind the driver.

‘Alpha has the driver’s-cab X-ray now in the killing area. Sierra Nine and Ten confirm.’

Two reds.

‘Roger that.’

One of the Slime ticked the board beside their names. They had a target.

Another figure emerged.

‘Alpha has X-ray One now in the killing area.’

Sierras One and Three red lit.

‘Confirm, Eurostar uniform and grab bag. He is in the middle of the pack.’

Sierra One’s light suddenly went back to green as the grab bag was lost in a sea of bodies.

The Slime held up a number count for Gavin on a whiteboard.

‘Alpha has twenty-eight in the killing area, still static by the train. No more movement in Coach Three.’

The strips of mine tape were flapping. The sky had darkened. A gust of wind blew rain across the Folkestone compound. The hostage group squinted into it. Someone near the centre of it said something. All of them began to shuffle slowly towards the Chinook.

‘Stand by, stand by… the group is mobile.’

Gavin checked Sentinel. He wasn’t concerned about Sierra Nine and Ten’s target as their lights flickered between red and green. It was Sierras One, Two and Three he had to worry about.

One red… then two…

Gavin pushed the radio pressel, ready to send.

Back to just one light.

Then none.

He looked at the monitor. The group was halfway to the Chinook. If he got one red, then that Sierra would have to take the shot.

Sierra Three flashed red.

He pushed the pressel. ‘All stations, I have control. Stand by, stand by…’

Sierra One went red.

‘Go.’

He heard two high-velocity cracks from the other side of the hangar. The snipers’ weapons recoiled and their rounds ripped through the air, each carving its track through the huddle and severing its target’s brain stems at the same instant. The two bodies crumpled.

There were a few beats of silence, broken only by the squawk of seagulls as they took to the sky once more. Then the hostages realized what had just happened in their midst. A woman screamed.

Simultaneously, two call-signs made entry into the train and the Blue and Red teams poured out of the service tunnel. The air crew, too, were out and running.

The single scream soon became a chorus as Laszlo’s men drew down their weapons. They stood their ground, knowing they were about to die, but determined not to go without a fight. The snipers dropped the ones they saw.

Jockey, Bryce and the rest of the team raced forward, throwing flash-bangs as they went. A bunch of Yankees broke ranks and ran towards them in blind panic, grabbing the assaulters, like drowning swimmers clinging to the closest available life-raft.

The Blue and Red teams pushed, punched and knocked them out of the way as they surged towards the main passenger group. The snipers continued to drop any threat they detected. Some Yankees took rounds in the chaos. Flash-bangs exploded with deafening, blinding force.

The assaulters reached the middle of the killing area. Any Yankee left standing was forced to lie face down on the ground by a combination of boots, fists and weapons. Everyone had to be gripped as if they were an X-ray, because some of them would be.

Gavin watched Ashton take a long, hard look at the body with the Eurostar uniform and the grab bag. He lifted what was left of the man’s head, checking the face against a printout of the picture Tom had taken. From the way he let it fall back to the ground and stood up before he got onto his radio, Gavin knew it wasn’t good news.

‘We do not have the initiation device and we do not have X-ray One. I say again, we do not have the initiation device.’

Gavin acknowledged.

Now that all the train group were zip-tied or dead, Jockey checked the casualties.

‘Alpha, roger that. Blue One, what you got for me?’

Jockey checked one last corpse before turning to face the camera. Gavin felt his eyes drill through the monitor.

‘We have eleven dead, seventeen breathing. We need to go back in the tunnel and find X-ray One.’

He didn’t have to spell it out. It wasn’t just Antonov and the device they wanted. Tom and Delphine were still in there somewhere. If they could stop Antonov, they might be able to save their friends.

Jockey remained staring into the camera as police vans raced into view.

‘Alpha, roger that. Wait out.’

Gavin spun round to Woolf. ‘Get on to COBRA. Get permission. We need hot pursuit. We need to stop this fucker.’