Flamingo Podnyalsya Ch 10a
By Phil Miller
Chapter
10a
S.W.A.R.M
was in conference. Admiral Stark shuffled his notes before the assembled heads
of the mighty allied military machine. Major Singha sat, poker-faced, awaiting
any news from Donyevsky. The Admiral stood to deliver his final address.
“Gentlemen,
as you know, we have a networking issue, at the moment, which could potentially
jeopardize our operation and so, should the need arise, I will have no
compunction in initiating HADES. We are now in phase two. Her Majesty has been
informed of our progress and is now making her way, along with her entourage
and family, to the launch site via Bletchley. The U.S. President has initiated
DEFCON 1 with command at Asia Pacific on red alert and in battle mode. S.S.A.D’s
(satellite search and destroy) are in line. Now! We know the Russians have
Arkhangel M-2 but that is not an issue; MOBY has her and is ready to drop her
to the bottom of the shelf. Trojan 1 has been activated and is on standby in Beijing. The recent Sino/Iran
arms agreement coupled with satellite imagery shows previously undetected
Iranian nuclear missile launch sites. Trojan 2 is now established at
Parchin. Major Singha, Sir! I understand
Flamingo will be ready by end of play,” he looked down and shuffled his papers
again before sitting down.
The Major
stood, loosening his tie, then cleared his throat. He looked around and was
puzzled when he realized that Cody and Tom were not in the room. He turned his
head slightly towards Moreau, “Where are Cody and Tom?” Moreau shrugged, “I’ll
go and check.” The Major nodded, “I need them and our Flamingo here, now.”
Moreau left the room and contacted security. “Can you do a trace on Cody and
Tom. Seems they have gone AWOL. Highly unusual for them to drop off.“
Major
Singha took a sip of water and began his update. “As mentioned by Admiral Stark, Flamingo will
be despatched within the coming hours. UF45-D’s from 201 squadron are aboard
HMS Regina Ignis, awaiting the arrival of Flamingo. Okhrana is set. Time to
prepare Gentlemen. This is the last meeting before Strike 1.”
Moreau
had stopped off at the Major’s office to collect his reading glasses and was
just about to help himself to some more of the Major’s favourite tipple when he
received a call. He froze, open mouthed, and cursed as the light amber whiskey
spilt onto the floor. “My God! No, I don’t believe it. How the fucking
hell did he get out!” he shouted down the phone, quite out of character, “get
your arses into gear. I want them found now, right now, you hear me? Get Donyevsky online.” He hobbled as fast as
he could to security and was confronted by two armed soldiers and a Sergeant.
“Sir!”
“Don’t,
Sir! me. What the hell happened?”
“They
managed to by-pass security as bio is down.”
“Really!
You mean to tell me they managed to get past three layers of physical security
and armed guards! How could they use the lifts? The systems are paralysed,” he
started to pace up and down, biting hard on a knuckle of his closed right fist.
The
sergeant muttered something under his breath, “magna-rail, Sir.” Moreau thought
he heard wrongly. “Excuse me? I thought you said magna-rail, soldier,” he
placed his hands on his hips, taking
in a deep
breath. His body was taking a long while to heal from the beating he had taken
at the hands of Mika and Kaspersky, “That is correct, Sir! magna-rail operates
under a completely isolated system.
It automatically switches to an old UPS which
was used during the very early stages of Command Centre build, Sir! it is the
only thing operational down here right now”
Moreau’s
complexion went from healthy and tanned, with flushed cheeks, to ashen grey. He
clutched at his chest and dropped to his knees, rolling to his side. He never
thought that his life would end staring at the black jackboot of a military
man. He prayed to God; the first time ever.
Cody, Tom
and Craig jumped off the magna-rail shuttle as it slowed to a gentle
stop beneath the old sidings of the once half-timbered, gothic looking, Fenny
Stratford railway station, a short distance from Bletchley. They made their way
up to the disused railway station platform via the emergency staircase. Tom
took the lead. Cody and Craig followed. They didn’t have long; only a matter of
time before they were hunted down by the Elite forces that would shortly be in
pursuit.
“Where
are we going Tom?” asked Cody. Craig was
puffing and panting heavily, slowly falling behind, and within the space of 300
yards, pulled up abruptly, clutching his calf muscles and holding his head; the
intense pain that had been bugging him ever since he first discovered the dead
body of Ruberov, was back. “Wait!” he shouted. Cody and Tom stopped in their
tracks, turned and ran back to him.
“What’s
up?” asked Tom.
“I don’t
feel too good,” he held onto Cody, his vision blurring.
“We need
to get hold of a car, some wheels, anything,” said Cody, an urgency in her
voice.
Tom
looked Craig up and down with a degree of disdain, “Watling street is just along here. We
need to get out of here, double bloody quick before they track us.”
There was
an awkward silence before Cody shook her head looking at the
floor, “We need somewhere safe. They’ll find us,” she said, softly. “What’s the
point of running then?” exclaimed Tom. “You know why,” said Cody.
“Ok! We
run and hide, but they'll come. Eventually, they'll come for him. I’m not
talking a few days, more like hours,
if we're lucky.”
“We have
a good head start. We can just meld into the mainstream. They’ll never find
us,” Craig stood upright.
“We have no cash, no weapons. We cannot go to
friends or family,” said Cody, an edge of
frustration creeping in.
Craig
looked at Tom, “you were family, Tom.”
“Forget
that. You have no idea do you?”
“What do
you mean?”
Tom was
just about to reply when Cody stepped between them, “Look, all this is doing is
delaying us. We need to move”
“Nowhere
is safe,” barked Tom.
“I know
someone who can help,” said Craig, wincing at the pain in his head, “We need a
car, let’s go.”
They kept
to a slow pace, so Craig could keep up, finally arriving at Watling Street car
park, where they split up to try and find an unlocked vehicle. Just as it
looked like they were running out of luck, Cody tried the driver’s side of a
rather well kept, 1993 Ford Mondeo; bingo! They were in.
Cody and
Craig sat in the back and watched as Tom popped the casing under the steering
column and attempted to hotwire the car.
“Where
did he learn to do that?” asked Cody,
“Mis-spent
youth,” said Craig.
Tom
jolted back as he took a small shock, “Shit! That hurt. Come on! come on!”
The old
saloon spluttered as it grumbled into life; They were away.
“Soon as
this car is registered, you know it’s just a matter of time before ANPR grabs
us,” said Craig, as he searched for his seat belt dock.
Tom
looked in the rear-view mirror, the car park’s cameras panning round to them as
they exited onto the high street.
“Should be there in about ninety minutes, if we’re lucky. Archway you
said, right?”
“Yeah! KC
should still be there, hopefully.”
Cody put
her hand on Craig’s knee. It startled him slightly and he checked to see if Tom
was looking, which he wasn’t. She looked at him in an almost pitiful way before
laying her head against his shoulder. Craig tensed up for a second and then
shot a glance at Tom who was staring straight at him. For a moment, Craig felt
unnerved. Tom had a look in his eye. One that he’d never seen before; hate or
anger or both, he couldn’t tell.
They
headed straight down the M1 to M25 turnoff. Tom was concentrating on the road;
things had changed since the last time he'd entered London from the North. They all sighed with
relief when they finally reached Forest
Road, Hackney. They parked at the back of the
arches near the top of the road and behind a local Rastafarian fast food joint.
An old 60’s reggae tune was blaring out and the aroma of spiced food hung in the air. There were quite a few people milling around as it was
market day, so Cody, Tom and Craig made their way to the old purple arch that
was KC’S lair.
Craig was
surprised to see the window had been smashed, remnants of shattered glass still
lay on the floor. He looked through the shutters and was shocked to see the
state of the place. It looked almost derelict.
“Weird!”
said Cody.
“What’s
weird?” asked Tom.
“The
glass door is still intact. You would think anyone trying to get in there would
go through the front door, smash that first, in and out,” she replied, as she
sussed the place out.
Craig
casually walked up to the entrance, feeling around the frame, “It’s
re-inforced, and bulletproof, no one can get in there unless KC wants you in
there,” he touched the ballistic glass and it slid open.
He
tentatively stepped in, Cody and Tom following closely behind. The cleansing
pod was inactive. No sign of life at all. They walked in, the toughened glass
door locking behind them. Craig stood staring at the abandoned desks and
monitors when a voice came out of nowhere.
“Who do
you have with you?”
“It’s Ok!
KC, they are with me. They got me out. This is Cody and Tom. Tom’s my bro….was... Cody is his wife. It’s fine, KC,” Craig was looking around
wondering where the voice had come from.
There was
only silence. No answer from KC. Tom walked over to a monitor and checked it
for power.
“Come on
KC, we need cover. I need your help again.”
“You can
come down, Craig. The other two have to wait there,” the voice was low but
stern.
“Ok!”
Cody
glanced over at Tom, who kept looking out through the shutters every now and
then, when suddenly, a segment of wall moved forward then sideways to reveal a
metal staircase.
"Just you." Craig turned to Cody and Tom, “I won’t be long
guy’s,” he moved swiftly down the dimly lit staircase till he reached a solid
steel door. As he went to touch it, a metal panel dropped either side of him
and out popped the nozzles of two machine guns, aimed directly at him. He held
his breath as he heard them engage.
“Don’t
worry, just a precaution, sensor-activated but fire on command. Come in,” said
KC, as she released the entrance to her sanctuary.
“Hello
darling. Didn’t think I’d see you again and I can’t believe my little plan with
the virus would prove so destructive. You did very well indeed Craig,” KC
remarked as she sat, tapping away on her keyboard, checking the screens that
offered a discreet view into the old office above.
“It’s
only a matter of time before they find me,” said Craig resignedly.
“I know.
That is why we need to get you to a place where no-one would dream of looking
for you, ever.”
Tom
seemed nervous. He was pacing in front of the window, checking the odd
passer-by every now and then.
“Just
chill for a minute Tom, you are starting to worry me a bit,”
Tom
ignored her, then turned and held his hands up, as if surrendering, before he
dived to the floor. The next few seconds felt like slow motion to Cody; The
initial blast took out the entire brick enclosure surrounding the front
entrance to the building, throwing Cody up and over the monitor desk. She
smashed her head on the floor face first, breaking her nose in the process as
she hit a small broken cabinet on her way down. The room was filled with dust
and debris. She couldn’t hear anything, just a very high pitched sound. Her
body felt paralysed, she was trying to roll over, but couldn’t. She started to
cough as the brick dust and debris flew around her. “Tom! help me, Tom!” she
screamed, spitting blood as it dropped down the back of her throat. Suddenly, she was grabbed under the arms and
dragged along the floor to the staircase. Cody looked toward the gaping hole
that was the bulletproof doorway and could just about make out the figure that
was Tom, his eyes firmly fixed in her direction, as she was pulled into the stairwell.
He ran towards her, followed by half a dozen armed Elite Force soldiers, but
the reinforced door slammed shut as he reached it. Cody and Craig rolled down
the stairs and Cody screamed in agony as the thumb on her right hand snapped
back as Craig trapped her against the bottom step. The two machine guns locked
on instantly and Cody looked up in horror as she noticed an infrared light on
Craig’s head, realising that she must also be a target, and so held Craig’s
hand, squeezing it tight and looking at him fearfully. She was just about to
speak when the fortress door unlocked and they both clambered in.
Copyright
Phil Miller
She was sitting in the church listening to the service of her estranged
husband’s funeral. It had been a peculiar death, Paulo had been found, in his
flat, with a knife sticking out between his shoulder blades.
