To Kill Or Be Killed (22 page)

Airport
security was raised to top level terrorist alert and every gate
entrance and exit was guarded by armed men and women.

Once on the
runway the three cars drove to likely locations, but not to the
control tower as there was a unit there already, which came as a
shock to Cobb as he rounded the hedge to face two armed police with
MP5 submachine guns, held at waist level, standing in front of a
neon striped Land Rover.

A moving streak
of pure instinct Cobb side dived to the ground as the faster of the
two men facing him presented the MP5, set at two to three round
burst, at waist level and pulled at the trigger. As the ten
millimetre rounds, wasp like, buzzed over his body, missing him by
a couple of centimetres, he aimed and fired the PSS. His first
shot, fired in mid fall shot the shooting man through the groin;
its upward trajectory sent it through his testicles in a burning,
agonizing sweep upwards through his lower bowel and lodged it in
his buttock. The second closely followed shot, aimed better from a
firm position on the floor, punched through the second man’s eye in
a diagonal across the brain cutting communication and disabling him
ready for death by bleeding. Both men strangely hit the ground
together.

Cobb, rapidly
on his feet, stepped over, took away all weapons, ripped radio
mikes from the uniforms, and took the dying man’s utility belt, as
he did this he mused on the fact that the body armour had covered
none of the points he’d aimed for. He was about to leave when a
thought struck him. He stepped back to the first man, curled up in
a foetal ball of agony. Cobb ejected the empty clip, slid in the
full one from his pocket and pressed the short barrel to the back
of the wounded policeman’s neck.

“You’ll be
paraplegic, not dead, unless you tell me your call sign now.”

“X Ray Delta
three.” The man breathed out through gritted teeth.

“Good man.” He
removed the wig and the duffle coat, put on the man’s chequered
peaked cap and donned a black nylon rain coat from boot. He
strapped the belt on over it. It was sparse, but it made him less
noticeable, at least from a quick look or a distance.

Holding his
groin the policeman felt the sticky hotness of blood on his hand.
He heard the engine of the Land Rover start, there was a rush of
air and metal as it passed near his head and then it faded to the
distance. He began dragging himself along the ground to the
entrance of the control tower where he knew there would be armed
security, locked inside, but the door was glass and one look at him
would get him help and set alarm bells ringing.

Cobb drove
along quickly following signs for the Cargo area. He called in on
the radio declaring a sighting of himself near the terminal sending
the searching units that way.

Driving
straight across the cargo area he saw an exit, not blocked, but
guarded. He rolled up, PSS pistol on his lap, knowing that the
height of the window gave him perfect advantage.

The two
policemen guarding the cargo area exit to Larkins Road saw what
they thought was a colleague approaching. The Land Rover drew up
and both men stood aside waiting to speak to the driver. It was too
late that they saw the unknown face in the adjacent car window and
were just too late to raise weapons and fire as two deadly silent
7.62 millimetre rounds killed each man stone dead with a shot each
to the heart.

Cobb
accelerated onto Larkins Road and was a rapidly moving blur on
Perimeter Road, unstopped because of the vehicle, along with his
use of lights and siren, and unrecognisable because of his speed.
He was at the Gatwick exit to the London Road when the felled
officer crawled into the view of a colleague behind the locked door
of the control tower entrance and by then he was weak through blood
loss and pain. His wounded form and the subsequent discovery of his
dead colleague alerted them to the stolen vehicle and calls to the
cargo exit guards unanswered led them to understand the mode and
direction of Cobb’s escape.

In the stolen
police car he listened to the calls coming and going and the extent
of their search, waiting to hear of the downed men, but it wasn’t
until he was hammering a groove up the London Road, siren blaring,
lights painting a blue streak, that he heard anything on the radio
and then it was a bit of a shock; followed by his harsh laugh.

“You listen to
me Cobb, you murdering bastard it’s shoot to kill as far as you’re
concerned, but my god we’ll make it last so you run…. We’ll be on
you in a minute…"

Cobb flicked
the radio off. The first thought that entered his head was to dump
the vehicle.

It took the
police ten minutes to get a chopper to the scene and by then Cobb
had entered Horley. He parked up in a street near the station,
driving onto an empty driveway and under its covered car port. He
took the black nylon gun bag out of the boot, put the MP5 and some
ammunition in, along with the contents of his own bag, the
assassin’s bag of tricks, and walked quickly, but calmly to the
railway station. He had a bare five minute wait for a train and
DIC, unaware of his near police uniform look, desperately scouring
the CCTV around Gatwick, missed him.

He then took a
short trip as far as Merstham, detrained and following enemy
evasion tactics decided to head some distance on foot. He headed
for the sound of the motorway and finding the M25 disappeared into
the shrubbery around its edge. He began following the M25 knowing
that it would lead him closer to central London.

The police
helicopters searched a grid of ever increasing circles yet in spite
of thermal imaging equipment they weren’t successful as Cobb had
gone beyond the outer circle of their search and not every hot body
image amongst trees, near the motorway or not, could be
investigated.

Chapter
60

London Euston Tower

12 Noon

April 18th

Jack Fulton
watched the midday news in the screen banked room. It was a horror
story of failure and foolishness.

The BBC news
was awash with bodies and massed armed security. The Manchester
Arndale bomb alert, news of the morning, and the subsequent alert
at Manchester Airport was eclipsed by the Gatwick high security
alert, which, with the added drama of the shootings, was the main
story. In addition footage of police at Hamilton Race track
removing the body of the truck driver, grisly scenes of the covered
body removed from the refrigerated van in Inverness and police
divers bobbing near a boat on the Moray Firth as a crane pulled a
taxi, bleeding seawater, up and around to land were only eclipsed
by the sight of the wrecked traffic police Volvo pursuit car buried
nose down and police struggling to lift a bagged body up the wet
muddy sides of Beech Bottom Dyke.

When it came to
Glasgow Buchanon bus station there were pictures of blood on the
floor and interviews with witnesses. The news reader turned to
screen.

“These suspects
are leaving in their wake a trail of bodies. Security services have
accounted for two of the five hunted men whose aim and objective is
as yet unknown. We are expecting a statement from Tarquin Robinson
Home Office Minister, within the next ten minutes, we’ll bring you
that live when it begins.”

Fulton was
pulled from his entranced viewing of the news by the ring of his
phone. Shadz, Jaz and Tony had finally landed, after obvious
delays, at Gatwick. Jack told them to get to Euston and report to
him in his office.

Chapter
61

London MI6 Offices

12 Noon

April 18th

“We have very
little information at the moment regarding the intentions of the
possible terrorists and their intended targets. Needless to say we
are very concerned about the number of deaths related to their
entry into the country. I cannot at this time say how many of them
there are nor obviously give any more information about those we
are aware of. We have three that we know about and pictures have
been released to the press. We warn member of the public, if they
see these men, to keep well clear and contact the police. The men
are armed and dangerous. Our sympathy goes out to the families of
those who have been so callously murdered and rest assured we will
bring these men to justice. That’s all.” Tarquin Robinson, home
office minister ended his press statement.

Sternway
switched off the small portable television in his office after
watching Robinson and turned to the two men in front of him. He
leaned elbows on his desk and put his two neatly manicured hands
together in what looked like prayer, resting his nose on the
steeple of finger tips, his eyes clearly focused on the gap between
the two standing men.

“You bloody
well chose them and they’re committing mass murder out there. There
are dead police, dead civilians and one dead DIC operative, not to
mention thefts of cars, money and shoplifting; oh and one dead
police dog.”

“We weren’t to
know it was going to go this way.” Joe said quietly

“No. They do
seem keen. You don’t think we’ve offered too much?” Sternway
asked.

“No men like
these come at a price and when the first or last man so to speak,
if it comes to that, hears the details of the job they’ll expect a
lot.”

“I’m going to
have a hard time making good this damage if it comes to light.”

“Only DIC could
possibly get any evidence and we’ll make sure they don’t.” Joe said
firmly.

“Good point. No
more talk over phones, in fact no more talk within possible range
of any kind of radio mike and have a team sweep my house and our
office section for bugs.” Sternway looked at each man in turn.
“This had better work. As for that maniac Cobb I’d rather he didn’t
make it. His capture or death will at least satisfy DIC and the
public. He’s near London, so he may get to the contact point first.
Have the contact set him up in a hotel and then when that’s done
let the police know where he is. That’s all, you can go.” Sternway
turned to the window and his men left the room. The extermination
or E order had been given on Cobb

CHAPTER
62

London

HOME OFFICE

1 p.m.

April 18th

“Yes Prime
Minister. We are making progress. DIC do seem to be a step behind
though as far as I can tell. I’ll keep you posted. I’ll prepare to
make statement.”

Robinson put
the phone down and reached into the inside pocket of his tailored
suit. His permanent secretary often joked that Robinson’s tailor
charged overtime rates for the making of the suits.

Robinson pulled
out the Bic ‘disposable’ cell phone and rang the only number in the
memory.

“Hello sir.”
Before Robinson could speak the voice said sharply, “No names
please.”

“Hello. I’m
extremely unhappy at the way things are turning out.”

“I was sure you
would be hence the item you are at this moment holding and the
current conversation. As far as I’m concerned it’s going well.”

“The publicity
is appalling and the….top man has just spoken to me and he’s
unhappy.”

“Is he unhappy
with you?”

“Not any more I
pointed out who he ought to be unhappy with.”

“Good then the
purpose is being served.”

“There are a
good too many …. Bodies…”

“Collateral
damage as our friends across the Atlantic have so beautifully named
it. In my business that’s usual.”

“Are you sure
you don’t want to stop now?”

“Such a waste
if we do and ultimately it’ll give more power to those who desire
it and an end to such an inconvenience.”

“I’m still
unsure.”

“Think of it as
you being the manager of the winning team. We are a team aren’t we
sir?”

Robinson sighed
and thought hard. It was an outcome he’d be pleased about, it was
the process that was bothering him.

“Yes.”

“Hang on to the
item, but dispose of it if it becomes necessary. Feel free to chat
again, though not too frequently.”

“I will.”

The lined went
dead.

At his end
Sternway looked at the orange Bic disposable cell phone and his
mouth twisted in distaste. They all had a lot to gain with this. He
felt sure that his plan would work. The old boy ought to have more
guts. Sternway suddenly laughed, one of his rare laughs, very rare,
but the unintended pun really tickled him.

Back in his
office Robinson put the orange coloured Bic cell phone back in his
inside pocket. He remembered Cole. He suddenly felt like a rabbit
that had fallen into a snake pit.

Chapter
63

Motherwell Glasgow

1-30 p.m.

April 18th

Stanton had
slept well and felt refreshed. His old friend had the good grace to
feed him and let him rest. Stanton took himself to the bathroom and
had a cold shower. His friend hearing the shower began cooking
bacon, eggs, fried bread, Scottish sausage, black pudding and fried
tomatoes.

As he came out
the shower Stanton smelt the food and felt good. Clarky was much
the same build as him and Stanton dressed in the Khaki camouflage
trousers, the thick black leather belt pulled tight, a stretched
white T-Shirt over his muscular upper body and that was covered
with a chunky beige sweater. He put on thick socks and happy that
Clarky had the same size feet laced up the worn brown walking
boots. The clothes were comfortable and durable. The boots felt
good. He felt like a new man, a better man from yesterday. Clarky
called him down to get something to eat.

Chapter
64

Glasgow, Motherwell

1–30 p.m.

April 18th

David sat in an
armchair leaning back. His father sat opposite holding the Sig 220
rail, turning it over in his hands. They’d sat and had lunch, small
talk had passed between them, but the ‘elephant in the room’ had
remained un-remarked upon until they had sat down together in the
lounge after lunch and David’s father had asked after the weapon he
was carrying.