Ria screams as she runs through. Her rifle held poorly, but her finger on the trigger and the safety already clicked off. The noise hits her first. The sheer cacophony of her house being fired at by chain guns and missiles. The whole building shaking and trembling. Chunks of plaster falling from the ceiling. Bodies on the floor. Blood smeared on the walls. In a split second of utter realisation she knows she has made a terrible mistake. As that realisation hits, she sees her mum kneeling on the floor and being held by two black-clad men. She sees one of them pushing a knife into her mum’s stomach. She sees that look of pure terror on her mum’s face and squeezes the trigger of her assault rifle.
Time slows like it did when he was seventeen and walking home down a country lane. Like it did when he was on the platform at Holborn Tube station and when he fought in the bunker against the guards with Safa and Harry. Like it did in the ocean and in this same house. Everything in perfect clarity. Every move laid out in front of him. There is no panic, only calm. Ben is smart. He doesn’t panic. I need that.
Ria kills her mother. Firing blanks was easy. She never needed to aim but just fire. She sprays the landing with rounds. The soldiers and operatives are trained for such a thing and drop to roll or burst away. Her mother doesn’t. Susan stares fixed at the gateway to hell from which her daughter runs as the rounds slam through her chest and neck.
Time slows. Everything in perfect clarity. The Barrett already handed to Safa. The rocket launcher already pulled round. Ben sees Ria firing the assault rifle, wild and unfocussed. He sees the plaster falling from the ceiling and the dust particles hanging in the air. He sees the soldiers recover quickly to bring aim at Ria as the air on the landing glows with red lasers seemingly drawn of the same hue shining behind the girl screaming out as she sees her mother drop dead and bleeding.
Time slows. Everything in perfect clarity. He squeezes and fires. The missile launches with a bright burning trail from the front door into the space between the men and Ria. The explosion is instant and huge. A booming detonation of fire and noise that only adds to the carnage in Cavendish Manor. Ria is taken off her feet, sprawling out on the floor.
Time slows. Everything in perfect clarity. Ben drops the missile launcher and reaches back to take the Barrett from Safa, swinging the weapon over as he brings it up to brace in his already sore shoulder.
‘Leave the bazookas . . . Go now . . .’
He braces and readies to stare down the scope through the dust and smoke billowing in the house. He spots a camouflaged figure moving and fires. He spots a black-clad figure and fires. He fires quickly into bodies and into the middle of them. He fires the enormous weapon as Safa, Harry and Emily run for the stairs.
Ria has to be protected, but more than that, more than anything, the Red has to be protected. This is the level of what we must do, Mr Ryder. The safety of the device will always be the priority.
Ben pulls the trigger. The recoil slamming into his shoulder. The noise is immense. The solid whump of the sniper rifle marking their presence. Marking their arrival.
‘GET THROUGH IT.’ Alpha screams the order while hunkering down behind several bodies. Using their forms as a shield. Others scream in panic, but he is Alpha. He does not panic. Through the smoke and debris, he spots Ria sprawled on the floor. His right hand brings the pistol up. The Barrett fires again, killing a man rising up near Alpha. Hot, wet blood spatters on Alpha’s face, but he pays no heed as he aims and fires. Men rise to charge at the red glowing light, only to be shot down by Ben twitching to aim and fire while he waits.
Safa takes the top of the stairs and runs down the landing with her own pistol out, firing into the mass of soldiers and agents. Harry and Emily do the same. They run past the Red to go deep into the attackers. Everything on instinct. Everything on reaction. Safa held five on her own. You ever see anyone do that? I need Safa.
‘MINE, BEN,’ Safa screams into the mic. Ben drops the Barrett.
Safa slams her knee into a head and twists to flip with a high kick, striking the side of a skull. Harry smashes two through the ruined bannister that land with a sickening crunch of bone next to Ben, who draws his pistol and shoots both before hefting the two remaining missile launchers up. Emily grabs a head from behind and snaps hard, severing the spinal column.
Miri smokes and holds the radio taken from the soldier. She listens to the sounds coming from the house. She looks up to the sky, as though towards the satellite, then checks her watch.
The three on the landing twist and spin to block, to snap arms, sweep legs and stamp on throats as Ben strides from the lobby to a back room. He lowers one missile launcher, lifts the other, makes ready and fires at the back wall, removing it from existence.
Miri smiles and presses the button on the side of radio. ‘Hello, Mother . . . My name is Maggie Sanderson . . .’
Ben walks to the gap in the ruined wall and stares up in awe at the sight of two military gunships firing both sets of chain guns. Spent casings spew in long trails from the side. Glinting as they fall to scatter unheard on the ruined lawn.
In a control room in a building in central London, on the banks of the River Thames, Mother freezes as the room becomes instantly quiet.
In a bunker under Downing Street, every aide and minister ceases what they are doing at the new voice coming through the radio network and a name they all know from a person that was meant to have died many years ago.
Washington and Moscow grow silent. They all know that name. Anyone who ever worked in intelligence and security knows that name.
Miri holds the radio and the attention of the world in her hand. ‘I need you to understand who is in control here . . .’
Harry’s heavy 1943 boot drives into a soldier. He swings a fist into the face of another. Someone hits him. He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t flinch. He slams his head forward, dropping the attacker instantly. A kick, and the body sails over the edge to land on the lobby floor. Alpha and Bravo see Tango Two. She is upstairs. But she is also here. Time travel. Doesn’t matter. They go for her. The two best agents in the country aiming for the woman as she fights on.
In the glade next to the Blue, Miri draws breath and checks her watch. ‘Look at your gunships . . . Watch what happens . . .’
Ben lifts and aims. He flicks the sight up and adjusts. No rush. No panic. He blinks slowly and presses the trigger. The missile swooshes. A glowing trail of bright light marking the trajectory as inside the top room Tango Two sees the arc while fighting for her life without a clue as to why.