Red Notice

67

The sound still seemed to echo in the hangar air, long after Laszlo cut the transmission.

Gavin watched the colour drain from Woolf’s face.

‘As delaying actions go, that wasn’t wholly successful, was it?’ The MI5 man was trying to sound his normal, imperturbable, slightly cynical self, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him.

Gavin shrugged. He neither liked nor disliked Woolf, but he had to feel a little sympathy for him in this predicament. ‘Mate, I really don’t think there was anything you could have done to change that.’ He passed his paper cup of brew to Woolf as a comfort offering. ‘That cunt had already decided he was going to shoot another Yankee way before he started talking to you.’

Woolf thought about it for a few moments as he took a sip or two of the hot sweet liquid. ‘You might be right.’ He passed the brew back. They were bonding. ‘It certainly fits his profile. But that knowledge doesn’t make me feel any better. I bloody hate this part of the job.’ He stared into space for a few moments, then made a conscious effort to rally himself. ‘What’s your best estimate of casualties if the powers-that-be decide to pass control to you as soon as the team is ready to go?’

‘Given the linear nature of the Channel Tunnel, and the lack of int…’ Gavin closed his eyes as if expecting the number to appear magically on the screen inside his head ‘… I reckon up to forty per cent of the hostages will be history in an emergency response. However, if we were given some additional time to work up a deliberate option, we should be able to reduce that number significantly.’

‘How long would that take?’ Woolf said.

Gavin shrugged. ‘At least a couple of hours to allow the snipers to get into position and the assault team to do a close-target recce. But I suspect we won’t be allowed anywhere near that amount of time.’