Red Notice

68

Gavin jumped out of his seat as rubber squealed on painted concrete and the first of the Blue team’s Range Rovers surged into the hangar. All he had to do was point where he wanted it to go. With another chorus of squeals it pulled a three-point turn, faced back towards the entrance and stopped. Its four occupants had scarcely left the vehicle and begun to unload when the next Range Rover screamed in and pulled up to its left.

When the Transits arrived, they’d line up about fifteen metres behind them. The space between was the Blue team’s admin area, where they’d sort themselves out and sleep. The Range Rovers were always in front, in case they needed to rig them up as ops vehicles.

Every item of kit was taken out of each wagon and laid out on grey blankets: sleeping cots; ladders; extra ammo; sledgehammers; axes; boxes of flash-bangs, and specialist weapons such as Federal riot guns and suppressed 9mm machine-guns.

The moment Gavin had given his orders and the assaulters were tasked, they’d go and pick up whatever was needed. Until then, they’d haul their black party gear out of their ready-bags and put it on, then head over to Gavin’s patch to see what he had in mind for the ER.

The first of the Transits arrived. The signal guys tied black bin liners to its back doors as soon as they’d swung open. Otherwise the ocean of white paper cups would become a tsunami.