The Armageddon Protocol

THIRTY-EIGHT

The fog was lifting but London was now shrouded in the full night of winter as the people of the city gathered to celebrate the turning of a new year. In the center of it all and yet somehow apart from the joy, the Shard stood like a sombre sentinel watching over the rest of humanity.

Stretching just over one thousand feet, the Shard was the tallest building in Western Europe, and its looming presence could be felt all over the surrounding area. Some liked it but others remembered when London’s tallest building was the BT Tower.

Thanks to the London Building Act of 1894 the city had avoided being turned into another New York or Tokyo, but restrictions were gradually relaxing allowing the construction of much higher buildings in many places, but not around areas of historical interest such as the Tower of London or St. Paul’s Cathedral.

With a look of steely determination on his face, Zalan Szabo noted the clearing fog with pleasure. At least now he would be able to view the culling of several million Londoners without obstruction. From here — his very own personal Eagle’s Nest, the clearing fog meant he had an incomparable view of the city, stretching from the Houses of Parliament in the west, right over the old City of London ahead of him and bending around to Canary Wharf in the distant east.

He was standing in his seventy million pound apartment near the top of the skyscraper, a large space taking up the entire sixty-fifth floor and surrounded by a three-hundred and sixty degree floor-to-ceiling window. Tonight, he surveyed the city from the highest residence in the country as he tried to calculate the casualties one final time. Then he looked at Steiner and snapped his fingers. “Bring me the laptop.”

The Austrian complied without a word, picking up a black Samsonite case and placing it carefully on a solid mahogany desk in the center of the room. He took a step back as Szabo rubbed his hands together and slowed his breathing. This was the moment he had always known would come, and now he made the most important telephone call of his life.

“This is the Prefect. We’re in place,” he said, working hard to control the nerves in his voice.

“Good. I give you the authority you require to proceed with the protocol.”

“Thank you, Minister.”

The Minister cut the call abruptly, and Zalan Szabo swallowed hard as he slipped the phone into the pocket of his cashmere jacket. So this was it, he thought. The idea of wiping out millions of people had seemed somehow different in his mind all those years ago when he had entered the Ministry. Now, staring at the computer that would activate the weapon and unleash hell on so many innocent, unsuspecting people he almost felt a pang of doubt… a vague wave of uncertainty about the morality of his mission flew through his mind like a lost swift.

No. The Ministry had prepared him for this, and he knew the fate of those who betrayed the core values of the order. What he was doing was for the good of mankind, wasn’t it?

Yes. The doubt was gone. Washed away by the cool tide of logic, like flotsam and jetsam on a beach.

He breathed out and steadied his hands as he ordered Steiner to open the control case.

As the Velar neared the plaza as the base of the Shard, Harry and the others studied the building they were expected to besiege and climb if they were to stop the nightmare and save London. Its tapering design made it look like it was much higher than it truly was, but its actual height was more than enough.

“And you say his apartment is at the top?” Niko said. He craned his neck inside the Velar to try and see the top as Leo brought the SUV to a juddering halt at the base of the tower.

“Almost,” Leo said. “Floor 65.”

Thanks to Leo’s earlier phone call, at least twenty police cars both marked and unmarked were now surrounding the skyscraper and as they jumped out of the Velar a senior officer from the Counter Terrorism Command, or SO15, approached them and introduced himself as they exchanged ID.

“This is Superintendent Eddie Rook,” Leo said. “We’re old friends.”

“Leo, good to see you,” Rook said.

“This is Harry Bane, former Pathfinder and SIS, Maja Eklund who’s Swedish Special Ops, and these guys are some of his buddies.”

“Well the buddies ain’t going anywhere near the Shard,” Rook said flatly. “It’s a high-risk area now and members of the public are verboten.”

“Sounds like a sensible policy,” Niko said, leaning his head into the conversation.

“No way am I missing this, Chief,” Zoey said.

Leo turned to her. “And what is your particular skillset?”

“I’m a thief.”

“A thief, eh?”

“A cat burglar if you must know. You might say I specialize in high-altitude stealth robberies.”

“That’s quite a talent.”

“And I used to work in a whiz mob as a dip.”

“You were a dip?” Leo said, giving Harry a devilish stare.

She nodded.

“A what?” Lucia said.

“A cutpurse… a finger, a wallet lifter… ended up being a cannon working single o, baby.”

“She means she’s a pickpocket,” Harry said, giving Lucia an apologetic glance.

Leo grinned at her. “You any good?”

She shrugged. “Not bad.”

“Then you can put your money where your mouth is. If you can take my wallet between now and sunrise, I’ll give you ten quid.”

Zoey cocked her head and smiled. “All right then, Slick,” she said. “Here’s your wallet back. Now you can give me the cash you owe me.” She pulled Leo’s wallet from her back pocket and tossed it to him over the front of the Velar.

“Well, I’ll be damned — when…”

“When I asked you if you were a swimwear model. Easiest distraction I ever did. And here’s your watch, too.”

She threw his wristwatch over the front of the Velar and he caught it with one hand.

“You’re good.”

“I’m the best, Junior.”

“I hate to break up this talent show,” Rook said, turning to Zoey, “but we need to get on, and you’re not coming.”

Zoey rolled her eyes. “Hey! I’ve been on this train since the beginning and I wanna drop some heat on those bastards!”

“Almost the beginning,” Lucia said. “And I’m coming too.”

Harry gave Eddie Rook a resigned glance and shrugged his shoulders. “You heard the ladies, Superintendent.”

Rook sighed and ran a hand through his black hair. “Christ.”

“That’s settled then,” Zoey said.

“Besides,” said Harry. “She’s a better shot than I am.”

“You got that, Chief?” Zoey said, staring at Rook. “And you…” she said, turning to Niko. “Do I have to kick your ass all the way up there, or what?”

“Damn it, Zoey! I’m the techie… I literally know nothing about anything except computers.”

“You said it, Nikky,” Zoey said. “And how do you think Szabo’s running this gig? We need you.”

Niko heaved a heavy sigh and dropped his head. “Fine, but I want one of those helmets.”

“I knew you wouldn’t let me down, Nikky,” Zoey said with a heavily sarcastic sideways glance.

“So what’s the plan?” Leo asked.

Eddie sharply drew in some of the cold air and exhaled slowly. “I’ve got regulars surrounding the building and Special Ops waiting in the lobby ready for the off.”

“Great,” Leo said. “Let’s get on with it. I’ve got somewhere I’d rather be.”

Harry and the others put on bullet-proof jackets and tactical helmets as they followed Rook into the lobby of the skyscraper. As he had told them, there was a team of Special Operations police waiting there and Rook wasted no time when he joined his men. Taking out his phone, he held a short conversation before cutting the call and slipping the phone back in his pocket.

“Home Secretary just gave me the green light. We’re going now.”

Leo turned and patted Harry on the shoulder. “Just like old times, mate.”

Harry grinned and nodded his head, and when he turned to look behind him he saw his new friends standing right there — Lucia, Zoey, Niko, Maja and Alain Baupin, each looking right back at him, ready to risk their lives with him.

“Let’s do this,” he said.

“You’ll need these weapons,” Rook said.

Harry took the gun from the Superintendent and weighed it in his hands. It had been a long time since he’d been issued formally with a weapon. He left the army a long time ago and despite what most people thought, MI6 agents did not run around with Walther PPKs in their dinner jackets. The smell of gun oil brought back memories of Iraq. Not good ones.

He checked it was loaded and slid a round into the chamber, making sure to keep the safety catch on.

“Into the lifts,” Rook said.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Lucia asked.

“If you prefer to climb all sixty-five storeys on the stairs, we’ll meet you up there.”

Lucia was first into the elevators, followed sharply by Harry, Leo, Maja and half of the Special Ops guys, while Rook, Baupin, Zoey and Niko and the other half of the team stepped into the next elevator along.

No one spoke a word as the elevator sped up hundreds of feet to the thirty-third floor where they had to change to another elevator. On their way again, they continued for a few more seconds until they reached their final destination on Floor 65, but when the bell pinged and the doors opened they were met with a burst of fire from Szabo’s men.

Last into the elevator meant closest to the doors, and within a few seconds three of the five SO15 officers were cut to shreds. Harry was first to react, raising the gun Rook had issued him with and returning fire at the men. The noise of the gun spitting fire in an enclosed tin can like the elevator was terrific, and Lucia screamed and dived for cover as she blocked her ears with her hands, but Leo’s reaction was to bring the Glock 17 sidearm Rook gave him into the aim and shoot back with as much rage as he could muster. Maja followed suit and unloaded an entire magazine of well-aimed rounds at the enemy.

At that moment the second elevator arrived and Eddie Rook and his men burst out and joined the fight along with Zoey, Niko and Baupin.

Zoey fired the hardest, raking the Ministry’s men with lead and fury. Visions of those who had trashed her childhood rose up in her memory like hideous phantoms as she blasted the powerful semi-automatic pistol at the men who were trying to kill her. “Die you sons of bitches!”

Szabo’s men returned fire taking out Eddie Rook and blasting him back inside the elevator, but with two fronts to fight, Szabo’s men started to retreat along the corridor leading away from the elevator section. They headed toward Szabo’s apartment, but then one of Zoey’s rounds struck a fire extinguisher bolted to the wall beside the elevator and the heat from the explosion set off the local sprinkler system.

She was disappointed that the entire sprinkler system hadn’t been activated, but that wasn’t the way industrial systems worked. Outside of Hollywood movies where the entire system is triggered, the reality was only the specific sprinklers that detected the increase in heat got activated. Now, Szabo’s men were outgunned and soaking wet, they turned on their heel and disappeared into the service staircase behind the elevator housing.

Harry watched the chaos unfold as the automatic sprinklers used water pumped up from the mains and sprayed it all over the corridor. “Keep going,” he yelled. “Szabo’s still in his apartment!”