‘Well, be thankful for small mercies,’ Mother says, closing her eyes to decipher the words. Two new friends will be Malcolm and Konrad. The mission was to wait for them to come out, then intercept before they could give warning or go back. Very quiet means they are dead. ‘Just a thought, Alfie. But do your new friends know of any other shows you can see?’
Alpha processes her words in the blink of an eye. Dead bodies cannot talk. He frowns for a second as the penny drops. Dead bodies cannot talk, but they do yield information. ‘Ah, I am so glad I called you now,’ he says, smiling under his balaclava to make his tone match the content of the conversation. ‘That is a great idea. Yes, we’ll ask them. There must be somewhere round here we can take them for a nice meal and a drink . . .’
Mother taps the tablet on her desk, which brings a 3D, perfect-quality hologram operating system glowing in front of her. She swipes through the icons. Double-tapping and flicking to get the information she needs.
‘Shall I have a look for you, dear?’
‘Great, thanks,’ Alpha says. ‘Dad okay, is he?’
‘Oh, your father is fine,’ Mother says, typing, reading, processing and speaking all at the same time as the air in front of her face fills with pages of information. ‘Oh look – yes, there is somewhere. I can text you the details, if that’s any good? Shall I contact them and book for you?’
‘Mother, I don’t know what I would do without you. Er . . . I was thinking about our other friends here. I mean, we did bring a lot to this show.’
‘Oh, Alfie, darling. Now don’t be silly. They can’t go with you . . . They should have made sure the show went on, and you need to move fast to catch the next one with your two new friends.’
A split second of a pause as Alpha looks at Bravo. ‘Okay, Mother. I’ll do that.’
‘Speak soon, Alfie. Take care.’
‘Yes, you too, Mother.’
Alpha puts the phone away and glances round. A fire this size will draw the authorities. Emergency services will already be scrambling towards this location. He looks from his position to the warehouse and counts three operatives still alive. Another four are inert. Either dead or unconscious.
‘Them?’ Bravo asks Alpha, having tracked what Alpha was looking at. He already knows the answer. They all do.
‘Staying here,’ Alpha says. He lifts his submachine gun and fires at the first writhing figure. Bravo and Delta negate the others. Bullets fired into heads and centre of masses. Charlie fires into the inert bodies to ensure death is given. Injured people talk; dead people don’t.
‘Exfil,’ Alpha transmits through his covert microphone as the last operative is shot.
The other agents with the truck at the far end by the junction stare at them, and even with faces covered, they telegraph shock at the executions they just witnessed, and to the last they take a step back as the five start running towards them.
‘Fire in the hole.’ Echo’s arm hurts like hell, but he squeezes the detonation switch that sends the signal to the receiver in the charges set in the houses they used as observation points. A split second later, the front walls blow out so hard the bricks sail across the road to smash through the wall of the warehouse. The noises are immense. Windows breaking. Wood splintering. Gas mains flaming.
‘POLICE ARE HERE . . .’ An operative at the junction shouts the warning through the radio as the first sirens warble down the main street. A single police car forcing a path through the heavy traffic as the people going by try to snatch a view at the fire raging down the side street. Bystanders gather near the junction. People running from shops, stores and cafés in response to the explosions. The disguised workers who erected the screens that blocked the view draw weapons from tool bags.
‘Hold them off,’ Alpha transmits.
A second later, the windscreen of the police car is peppered with holes created by the rounds fired from the junction. Screams sound out. People that were running towards the explosions stop to yell, and either duck or start running away. More guns open up. Pouring fire into the police car with metallic dinks as the bullets strike the engine block. The two officers are killed outright. Control of the car is lost as it ploughs into the back of a taxi. The airbags inside the police car deploy as the already dead occupants slam forward. More sirens coming. More police cars with officers inside who heard the shots fired over the radio transmission from the first vehicle. The local police control room dispatches all units. Every officer on duty across the city bursts away from what they are doing and runs to vehicles that come to life with lights and sirens. Helicopters and drones are scrambled as the police control room staff move into emergency procedures.
Alpha reaches the truck with the four operatives at his side. An unmarked heavy goods vehicle used to block the junction and bring the operatives and the screens needed to seal the view. Now all that matters is getting the bodies away. Mother will not be pleased at the aborted mission. Alpha has to claw something back, and failing again is not an option.
He takes the front with Bravo. Charlie, Delta and Echo get into the rear with the corpses as the two uninjured agents work to apply a dressing to Echo’s bleeding arm.
‘Keep them back, then bug out . . .’ Alpha transmits to the operatives in the street, knowing each is wearing lightweight clothing under their black covert kit and can strip down before running to blend into the chaos.
Two police cars pull up twenty metres away from the first one – now wedged in the back of the taxi. The officers draw pistols as automatic weapons open fire from the junction. A black-clad figure darts out to throw a flash-bang down the street. The officers return fire, plucking single shots with nine-millimetre rounds that lack the punch and range to be effective. The flash-bang explodes with a wall of sheer bright light and a huge detonation of noise. Alpha takes the chance to egress, pressing his foot down on the accelerator to move the truck out into the now-jammed road. Cars, bikes, trucks and delivery lorries everywhere. He rams them aside as he builds speed.
More police cars slew to a stop on both sides. The officers stunned by the flash-bang cover their ears and blink the retina burn away as they duck from the barrage of incoming fire.
Alpha builds speed as Bravo cocks his weapon and leans out of the passenger-side window to strafe down the street towards one of the police cars. People run screaming. Police officers fire handguns at the truck, heedless in the panic of the moment to the rounds pinging off the hard metal sides and slamming into the crowds of people trying to flee.
The operatives at the junction know they will be hemmed in, and start working to punch out and make a run for it, covering each other as they strip the black outer layers off to reveal normal street clothes. Smoke grenades and flash-bangs are made ready for release to create the distraction needed to bug out.
Bravo drops back inside the cab to change magazines, and uses the wing mirror to check the gap between them and the junction before glancing at Alpha. ‘I think we’re almost clear.’