Red Notice

93

Battered and bloodied, the Blue team regrouped and reorganized at the mouth of the service tunnel. The trauma team had their work cut out trying to stabilize the military casualties, who were still being brought in. Electric carts then ferried them back to the Transits for a covert exit to hospital through the massed ranks of media and rubbernecking onlookers.

Jockey stopped his sit-rep to Gavin mid-flow when he saw Ashton storm over, his face red with fury. ‘Blue One, wait out…’

‘What the fuck did you do in there?’

Jockey wasn’t in the mood for Ashton — or any other fucker — getting on his back right now. He took a pace towards him. ‘I’ll tell you what the fuck I did down there. We walked straight into a fucking ambush, and I tried to get everyone out alive. That cunt knew exactly when and where we were coming. And if it hadn’t been for Tom we’d all be fucking toast. Not just poor bloody Vatu, the whole fucking lot of us.’

‘Buckingham? He’s still alive?’

‘He was ten minutes ago. The gun was still firing — but he could have run out of ammo by now. And he won’t be leaving that train unless he’s taking Delphine with him.’

Ashton shrugged. ‘Which means they’re both coming out of there in a box.’

Jockey’s fists clenched this time. He stared at Ashton with absolute contempt. ‘You’d better order some more, then, because they’re not the only ones.’ He pointed across the tunnel to where the big Fijian’s body was being carried onto the back of one of the carts. Another three wounded soldiers were straggling alongside. ‘So, if you’ve finished, Boss, I’ve got a sit-rep to send.’

Keenan, his face flushed with anger, broke up the stand-off. ‘Boss, when are we going back in to settle things with those fuckers?’

‘Right now,’ Ashton said. ‘Get rehydrated, get bombed-up. I’m going to move up the Red team. Fuck sorting the hostages — the police will have to take care of that.’ Ashton jabbed a finger into the front plate of Jockey’s body armour. ‘You have fifteen minutes to brief them before you go back in. I want everyone up-front-and-bags-of-smoke. Make Laszlo history — now!’

Jockey knew the infantry saying. It meant simply: get all your men up front, no reserves; get the smoke down to cover them during the attack. No finesse, no sophisticated tactical manoeuvres: just get into the battle space and win the fight.

He kept his eyes fixed on the OC.

Ashton glared back. ‘Well, what the fuck are you waiting for? Get on with it!’

Jockey was tempted to give him a smack there and then, but jerked his head at Keenan instead, motioning him out of earshot. His eyes drilled into Ashton’s, but he managed to keep his voice as low and reasonable as a Jock with size issues could. ‘Boss, like I was trying to tell Gav when you charged in, Tom has seen a device on a gas pipeline somewhere up above here.’ He pointed to where the sky would have been. ‘If we go back in immediately, that fuck Laszlo might just kick the thing off. Then we’d all be in the shit. So right now I need to get the int back to the hangar, get COBRA to fuck about with it, then we’ll see. I trust Tom more than you, COBRA, even my own fucking mother. We need to regroup and rethink how the fuck we’re going to stop that cunt.’

Jockey turned away and got on the net. ‘Alpha, this is Blue One…’