Going back tom novak boo.., p.28
Going Back: Tom Novak Book Three, page 28
‘Okay I’m forcing it now. Hold up. Powering now. Jesus, Tom they’ll see this.’
‘No, they won’t.’ Tom’s voice was flat and eerily calm.
There was an interminable pause that felt like an hour but, in reality, was probably less than a minute.
‘Bingo. GPS. Wait a second,’ Pet tapped furiously at the keys, desperately trying to isolate the signal.
All of a sudden, there was chaos over the net, from the other units at the substations.
‘Drone sighted, drone sighted, hold up, contact.’ The bellowing voice of Lin, one of the team members, came over the net followed by the boom of a shotgun and the rattle of automatic gunfire.
More units were shouting but Tom tuned them out. There was nothing he could do; he knew Jane and Tiny would be listening and directing local resources. He had to focus on what was immediate and what was now.
‘Got them,’ Pet screamed. ‘Half a click away, north on the beach. Back onto the A1 and go south. We will run parallel with them; you will then have to cross the field to intercept.’
Buster spun the wheel and sped off, directed by Pet. They drove parallel to the coast until Pet shouted, ‘Here now! They are three hundred metres in that direction.’
Looking at his map with the neon pulsing dot of Cerović’s phone dead central on the beach, Tom shouted into the radio over the howl of the BMW’s engine. ‘Remaining units close in, I’m sharing location now on your screens. Alpha six move south of the signal, we will come in from the north. Stealthy approach, shotguns ready to engage. Don’t let those drones get off the fucking ground.’
When they were adjacent to the signal, Buster pulled off the road bouncing onto the soft verge grass.
‘They’re straight there, Tom. Three hundred metres.’
Tom and Buster dived out of the car and went to the boot, opening it and unlocking the vehicle safe. Tom pulled out the Sig Sauer MTX carbine whilst Buster grabbed the Remington 870 and racked the action, injecting a shell into the barrel. Tom slapped a magazine into the Sig and cocked it. He stuffed a further couple of magazines into his patch pocket on his combats and buttoned it up, securely.
He smiled at Buster. ‘Ready?’
‘No, am I fuck. You always get me in these shit situations you twat,’ he grinned widely back. ‘Let’s do this.’
‘Pet, monitor the computers. Straight in if anything crops up.’
‘You got it. Be careful.’
Buster and Tom turned and began jogging along the rutted, ploughed field between the A1 and the beach. As they moved everything went just a shade darker, as all the lights in the houses nearby and the distant town lights all went off simultaneously. Suddenly it was almost pitch black, apart from the nearly full moon and the distant glow from Torness with its independent power supply.
‘Looks like some of the drones hit home at least.’ Buster said, over the continued chatter on the radios. Some reports were beginning to filter in, but it was hard to make any sense of them and concentrate on the task in hand. Jane’s steadying presence on the net was comforting as she directed resources. One positive was that neither man had heard the fatal words, ‘Officer down’, yet.
As they closed towards the beach Tom saw the dark outline of a large pickup truck casting a shadow against the moon’s reflection in the sea. He pointed at his eyes and then pointed at the truck and Buster nodded. Both men dropped to their knees and took cover against a scraggy gorse bush.
‘Alpha six report?’ Tom whispered.
‘Just south of the signal,’ came the hoarse reply.
‘Okay, we are moving up now. Three figures by the Ford, parked on the beach. Do you have it?’
‘Yes, yes. We are moving up.’
‘Received. Wait for my signal.’
‘What will your signal be?’
‘Lots of big bangs,’ Tom said. Now wasn’t the time to piss about. Those drones could not leave the ground.
‘You ready Buster?’
‘I’m always ready, you twat. But I am gonna stop hanging around with you.’
‘Let’s go.’
They ran at a crouch, getting to within forty metres of the truck where they ducked down by the scant cover of a small depression in the ground.
A deep, intense buzz and humming sound suddenly became audible despite the breeze in their faces. Suddenly two bright torches flashed on in front of them, illuminating the two drones that sat on the beach, their blades whirring and blowing the coarse sand in all directions.
Out of nowhere what had been a background hum became a loud roar as a helicopter roared into view overhead from behind them at a perilously low altitude. The words “Police” could easily be read, being emblazoned on the underside in white writing. The side door of the helicopter was open, and a lone uniformed officer was sat in the doorway clutching a long-barrelled firearm of some variety. The dark figures extinguished the torches and darted out of sight ducking down behind the side of the pickup. The helicopter flew low over the truck, moving out so it was in a low hover over the sea, the jet wash chopping up swirling waves in the still water. A powerful nightsun spotlight burst into life and bathed the truck in blinding, white light as the marksman brought his weapon to bear on the pickup.
One of the figures on the ground darted to the rear of the pickup and emerged clutching what looked like a long, bulky weapon which he hefted onto his shoulder.
Tom’s blood ran cold. ‘No, no, no! Police helicopter, back off, back off, suspects in possession of an energy weapon. Back off back off,’ he yelled against the deafening roar from the helicopter.
A solitary spark was the first evidence of any effect; just a small, lone spark that was visible through the open door. All of the sudden, the nightsun exploded in a hail of sparks. The helicopter then went into complete darkness, all electrical circuits fried by the powerful blast of electromagnetic waves. The engine cut out, as dead as if a cut-out switch had been flicked. It spun wildly out of control before rearing onto its side and hitting the water with a resounding and deafening crash, where it disintegrated in a swirling foam of black water.
‘Crash, crash. The helo has crashed, we need all emergency services, now. Multiple casualties,’ Tom bellowed into his radio. His earpiece burst into life in his ear in response.
A crackle of gunfire and muzzle flashes erupted from the rear of the pickup, and the sand at their feet danced with the impact of nine-millimetre parabellums. There was hardly any noise from the silenced weapons as Tom and Buster dived to take cover. Tom crawled into a firing position, shouldering the Sig. The pickup was still in total darkness, all torches extinguished, as Tom stared down the optic which fortunately had a low-light capacity which intensified the bright moon. He fired a strafing burst at the vehicle, the loud cracking report from the Sig announcing firmly that there was a new player in this game.
The lead drone lurched into the air unsteadily hovering close to the sand as it skirted away from the pickup. A hail of withering automatic fire forced both Tom and Buster to shrink into the depression they were using as cover.
‘The drone, Buster. Don’t let it get away,’ Tom shouted.
‘Fucking hell, Borat, I’m gonna make you pay for this shit! Cover me,’
Tom aimed at the muzzle flashes and let out a further long burst of the high velocity ammunition, Buster jumped onto his haunches and fired a deafening blast from the Remington. The shot smashed into the skimming drone making mincemeat of the rotors. It bucked and rolled and crashed into the sand in a tangle of twisted metal, useless and destroyed.
‘Good shot. Just one more to go, Buster.’
‘I can count, you cheeky bastard. Get ready,’ Buster said pumping another slug into the Remington. Three MP5s opened up on them simultaneously, the sand almost seemed to come alive as the bullets peppered all around them.
‘Jesus fucking Christ!’ Buster shouted as he tried to clear his eyes from the sand that had been blown into them. ‘This is the least fun ever!’
The sharp, high-pitched wail of the remaining drone erupted from behind the pickup, and it suddenly shot upwards at a remarkable speed. Tom could only watch as it climbed rapidly. Buster pointed the Remington upwards and let loose a barrage of shots, semi blindly, but the drone glided away, untouched, upwards at a staggeringly fast rate and out of their range.
‘Shit!’ said Tom. ‘Shit.’
A stocky figure stood up at the rear of the pickup, his MP5 raised to his cheek, and began firing wildly at them. A sharp crack of a Sig came from further down the beach and struck the man square in the centre of his chest, knocking him backwards with a cry. Tom knelt up and peppered the pickup with a further long burst of automatic fire as Buster rushed forward, racking the Remington as he went. A tall and powerful looking man emerged from the back of the pickup firing wildly at Tom. Buster paused and fired the Remington, catching the man full on from just twenty metres. The man flew back, blasted to bits by the terrible force of the heavy shot, landing in the sand in a crumpled heap.
Tony from Alpha six appeared south of the pickup, a Sig in his shoulder, screaming, ‘Armed police! Put your hands up!’ as he advanced.
Tom also began to advance, weapon in shoulder, towards the pickup. He, Buster, and Tony circled the pickup. Cerović was lying on the floor moaning and holding his leg.
‘I’ve been shot, I’ve been fucking shot, help me,’ Cerović wailed. Two other figures were in the sand nearby. Tom advanced carefully, but both men lay absolutely still, clearly dead or dying.
‘From Alpha one, ambulance required, multiple casualties.’
‘Alpha one, received. Locals are on way,’ Jane’s voice was calm, as normal.
‘We have one drone away and currently heading towards Torness; please advise those on site,’ Tom said.
‘Acknowledged. Security is on site,’ she said, icy calm.
Two smashed remote-control units lay broken and useless on the sand, both a twist of plastic and mangled circuitry.
‘I’m hit, man. It hurts so much,’ Cerović moaned from his position on the sand.
‘Shut up Cerović, you have a flesh wound,’ Tom said. ‘How do we stop that drone?’
‘You can’t,’ Cerović replied. ‘The course, altitude, and detonation are locked in. Babić smashed the controllers and then he drove off, he just abandoned us. I can’t do anything now; you need to get us away from here.’ He paused and blinked up at Tom. ‘Why the fuck are you here?’ His face was fixed in a mask of confusion and pain. ‘You’re a cop? You’re a fucking cop. I thought you were an arms dealer. Ah man, no, no, no,’ Cerović began to wail, understanding flooding in.
Tom stared at him. ‘Buster, lock him up.’
‘Fine, but what are you going to do?’
Tom picked up the EMP weapon that had been used to down the helicopter. It was heavy and cumbersome. He hefted it into the back of the Ranger, climbed into the driver’s seat and gunned the engine. ‘I’m going to try to take down that drone before it explodes. You and the others sort this out, I’ll be back soon.’ He slammed the door and roared off along the sand towards the power plant.
52
Tom drove as fast as the sand would allow in the big truck, the engine roaring. He bounced up onto the adjacent field and within a minute was back on the A1, heading north.
Pressing his transmit button, he spoke. ‘Jane, I need to get into the site, urgently. I am travelling along the A1 and I will be at the main gate in about two minutes. I am in a dark Ford pickup. I have something that may be able to disable it. The same thing they took the helo out with.’
‘I have the ACC on the conference line; we are following this together. Hold up.’
‘Hurry, this thing has its course locked in and it is set to auto-detonate any time. We have no idea what it will do.’
‘Okay, the ACC is calling Torness now; you should be able to access as soon as you get there. Will this weapon work?’
‘I have no idea, Jane, but it took a great big helicopter out, so we have to be in with a chance.’ Tom accelerated as fast as the heavy Ford would allow. As he surged up to the plant’s entrance, the gates were already opening in front of him, like the parting of the Red Sea. Two uniformed constables at the gates, armed with Heckler and Koch G36 assault weapons, waved him on. He drove straight through the still-moving gates and into a clearing, in between a group of heavily fortified buildings and a large steel shipping container.
An impossibly young-looking uniformed sergeant, also clutching a G36, ran up to meet him. ‘DS Novak?’
‘Yes, have you seen it?’ Tom said, getting out of the Ford.
‘Yes, it’s hovering at about one hundred metres straight above us now. It’s too far for shotguns to be effective. Can it cause damage?’ He pointed upwards, and the red, flashing light was clearly visible: as he had said, about one hundred metres above them, its high-pitched buzzing clearly audible.
‘What’s your name, mate?’
‘Jerome,’ he said, looking puzzled.
‘Well, Jerome, to be perfectly honest, I don’t have a clue. But the alternative is we sit here and wait for it to go off. Now, I have no idea what will happen once I use this thing. Get all your people to take cover somewhere and you may want to think about finding somewhere to hide as well.’
Tom hefted the heavy weapon out of the truck as Jerome busied himself on his radio, relaying Tom’s message.
The weapon was about a metre long and had a roughly fabricated, hard vulcanised plastic covering, giving it the shape and feel of a large, bulky firearm. It had a crudely fashioned trigger assembly that led out to a long barrel with what looked like a black spotlight at the end. There was a rudimentary sight mechanism, with an optic that seemed to have been made using a monocular that had been bolted on to the side of the unit. Tom heaved it onto his shoulder and fixed his eye to the eyepiece. There was some image enhancement on the monocular and, as he raised it to the sky, the stars beamed brighter than normal as the low light capacity harvested all the available ambient light. He began scanning the sky above him. He saw it immediately: the small flashing light from the mobile phone shining brightly enhanced by the night vision.
Looking to his side he saw Jerome staring open-mouthed at him. ‘What the fuck is that?’
Ignoring him, Tom depressed the trigger, which moved easily with a satisfying clunk. The whole unit vibrated with suppressed electrical energy, and Tom’s hair felt like it was standing on end. He felt a distinct and palpable heat emanating from the weapon, but there was no beam, no flash: nothing. Just a humming and a feeling that the very air around them was being positively charged.
Tom’s eye stayed glued to the hovering drone. A small spark emanated from the form, akin to a small firework, and the drone bucked in the air. The buzzing of the beating rotors suddenly stopped and they were enveloped with an all-encompassing, deafening silence.
‘Fuck, it’s worked,’ said Jerome, wonder in his voice.
The drone began to fall, like a stone from the sky. Tom ditched the weapon and shouted at Jerome, ‘Take cover! It’s coming down, fast!’ They both ran and dived behind a short, squat concrete building.
There was a further millisecond of absolute silence and then a mangled crash as the drone hit the ground. Looking tentatively from their hiding place Tom saw a twisted pile of metal thirty metres away from the truck. There was no smoke, no beeps, no noise. Just dead, inert metal and wires, devoid of power.
Tom walked hesitantly up to the destroyed drone. It was dead. No lights, no noise, just a pile of metal and circuitry. Tom had enough knowledge of explosives from his military days to know that an electrical detonator required a power source to initiate. Without that, it was safe.
He breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
‘Is it okay, I mean is it going to blow up?’ Jerome asked, tentatively.
‘I hope not. The fuse is an electronic one activated by a mobile phone electric current. No electricity, no detonation. It’s over.’
‘Fucking hell, mate. Good skills,’ Jerome said, a trace of wonder in his voice.
‘Call it in, Jerome. I can’t guarantee how safe it is. It contains explosives, so there is still a chance it may blow up,’ said Tom.
‘Erm, yeah sure. I will call it in as a Hazmat incident; the world and their wife will be here soon.’
‘Awesome. Nice to meet you, Jerome. Good job.’ Tom shook the man’s hand and jogged over to the Ford. He heaved the energy weapon back into the truck and climbed in. The big V8 engine roared as he drove out of the site and back towards the beach, his radio earpiece still buzzing with reports and directions flooding in.
As he drove, Tom couldn’t help but feel that something was wrong. It all felt too easy, and Babić had clearly fled the scene. It just felt wrong. He shook his head and headed back to the beach.
53
The scene at the beach had developed since he had left. There were two ambulances, two fire tenders, and what seemed like dozens of police cars along with a coastguard rescue vehicle. Strobing blue lights everywhere; it was a scene of utter chaos and confusion.
A lifeboat was trawling the area where the helicopter had ditched into the sea, the crewmen looking forlornly into the black water.
Tom got out of the Ford and approached the clutch of uniformed police officers. Buster and Tony were stood talking to a uniformed inspector, a middle-aged woman who looked a little overwhelmed at the catastrophe that she was at the centre of.
Tom approached the small group wearily, a wave of total and utter exhaustion beginning to overwhelm him.
‘DS Novak?’ The inspector said, panic etched across her features.
‘That’s me,’ Tom said.
‘I’m Inspector Fraser, duty officer. DC Rhymes has updated me, but can you confirm that the weapon at Torness has been disabled?’ she had a soft Edinburgh accent and her eyes were wide with concern.
‘Yes, Ma’am: the nuclear site is safe as far as I can be sure, but CNC are calling it all in and they are implementing their Hazmat procedures now. I think you can leave it to them. My team are going to adjourn to a police station that has power and wait for the relevant Police Complaints Authority. We are now in a post incident procedure and we will be preparing our witness statements in order that an investigative team can deal with the aftermath.’ Tom turned to Buster. ‘Any news of the team, Buster? Any casualties?’
