First Response

WELLINGTON BARRACKS (12.02 p.m.)

The Chinook did a slow circle two hundred feet above Wellington Barracks, then slowly descended to make a textbook landing in the centre of the parade ground. The twin rotors continued to whir as the back ramp lowered and eight SAS troopers came out, toting black kitbags.

Major Haydyn Williams was standing at the edge of Tarmac Square, a line of four black SUVs behind him. The men jogged over and formed a line in front of him, then dropped their bags beside them. All eight were part of the SAS’s special projects team, specialising in anti-hijacking and counter-terrorism.

‘For those of you who haven’t been watching the news, there’s been a spate of hostage-taking incidents across London this morning,’ said Williams, who had lost most, but not all, of his Welsh accent during his eight-year stint with the SAS. ‘The hostage-takers appear to be linked to ISIS and are wearing suicide vests. In each case the terrorist has handcuffed himself to a member of the public. It’s a delicate situation, to put it mildly.’

The Chinook’s engines roared and it lifted off, heading back to Hereford. The men kept their heads turned away from the rotor blast and the major waited until the deafening roar had faded before continuing. ‘This is how it’s going to work,’ he said. ‘You’re to be attached to the various armed police units attending the four incidents around the capital. You will be acting under the orders of the local Silver Commander in each case. For those of you not familiar with the way the cops operate, a Silver Commander is in charge on site. Usually an inspector but not always. He in turn reports to a Gold Commander, who in this case is at the special operations room in Lambeth. The Gold Commander decides overall strategy, the Silver Commander makes decisions on the ground. You do what the Silver Commander says. But I also want you using our own comms to stay in touch with Captain Alex Murray. He’s in the SOR so he’ll always have the big picture.’

The men nodded. Most of them were chewing gum, the only sign of the building tension.

‘Under no circumstances are you even to think of firing your weapon without being ordered to do so by the Silver Commander,’ said the major. ‘At the moment the cops are running the show so we have to play by their rules.’

‘What about if we come under attack, boss?’ asked a trooper. Ben Peyton was one of the youngest members of the group, though he had already seen plenty of action in Afghanistan and Syria. He was the linguist specialist in his four-man patrol, fluent in Arabic and French.

‘The intel we have is that the targets are only armed with suicide bombs,’ said Major Williams. ‘No guns, no knives, just a vest full of explosives. They won’t be attacking you. The risk is that they self-detonate and take out everyone close by. At the moment the police are containing them and are preparing to negotiate. Our task is to support the armed police units as they are now stretched thin. We’re in a support role in the first instance, but my personal feeling is that will change fairly soon. But until it does, you follow the Silver Commander’s orders to the letter.’

The men nodded, their faces impassive.

‘As soon as you’ve deployed, I suggest you all grab some cop kit so that you blend in. We’re under orders not to cover our faces so no ski masks or balaclavas. Dark glasses are fine, but the best way of staying below the radar is to blend. Understood?’ More nods. ‘So, any questions or are we good to go?’ The major looked down at his clipboard and began reading out their assignments. As soon as their name was called the troopers would pick up their kitbags and jog over to the waiting SUVs. Five minutes later they were all being whisked across the capital.