In the event, we decided that a little more chaos wouldn't make any difference so the chopper dropped us directly in the street.
We were wearing our distinctive flack jackets, which was our way of telling the police to stay out of our fucking way. As this was an unusually public situation for us, we were also all wearing shades and baseball caps – I know, fashion nightmare but we can't become publicly known faces, especially Arthur.
The goons had at least done a reasonably efficient job of clearing the street and surrounding buildings but were unable to prevent a large crowd amassing at the barrier. Luckily, the street was a dead end and the lorry was some distance from the main road, so we were able to use the chopper as cover and disembark in a hopefully anonymous manner.
I saw one of the goons stifle a laugh at me with my hair tied back and flowing from a baseball cap. I suppose I may have looked a bit like a blonde bimbo out for a jog, except for my jacket and rifle. Normally I wouldn't be seen dead with a baseball cap or out jogging.
We scanned the vehicle and found no signs of life. I had a quick look underneath and Arthur couldn't detect any obvious traps. The safest thing to do would have been to blow the door off from a distance but we couldn't risk destroying vital evidence inside. With our headset mics on, all our comms were being relayed to base camp.
“It looks like a normal lorry,” I said, “just a rolling back door with a simple padlock.”
I knelt down and examined the lock and door with a magnifying glass.
“No sign of any tamper-proof devices, I vote we shoot the lock off and get on with it.”
“Agreed,” said White.
“Stand back,” I said, letting my Kalashnikov dangle by its strap and taking out my trusty Gloch pistol. “Much quicker than pissing about with skeleton keys,” I said as the lock disintegrated and fell to the ground.
I pushed up the door, alert for movement from within but it was as empty as we had thought. Empty of people anyway.
White signalled to the chopper pilot to keep an eye on the street and we all got in the truck and closed the door.
“Apart from the laptop, I've no idea what any of this stuff is,” I shrugged.
“Me neither,” said White, “Arthur?”
Arthur looked around at the various metal boxes festooned with knobs, dials and switches.
“I couldn't name any of the individual items but this dial has sound frequencies labelled on it, so I think we can guess what it's all used for.”
“We need Steve,” I said.
“He'll never get here in this traffic,” said White, “I'll send the chopper back for him.”
“What about forensics?” I said as the boss made to leave the truck. “Surely our priority now is to get this thing turned over and get a lead on these people?”
He paused for a moment, churning over our options. Meanwhile, Arthur had obviously been busy with his implant.
“Actually, the traffic is beginning to clear.”
Combining the power of his implant with his phone he'd brought an up to the minute display of traffic density in the surrounding area up for us to see.
“It's only the few streets around here that are seriously congested,” he said.
“And most of that is probably because of us and the chopper,” I added. “If you send Clive back to base camp for Steve, I'm sure the crowds will lose interest and by the time Fiona gets here by car the cops should have cleared the streets.”
White smiled.
“I knew there was a reason I pay you both so much. Good work.”
He ran to the chopper, which soon began to throb with the sound of take off, before liaising with the head cop.
Once we'd borrowed some of their handy white tents and cordoned off the lorry, the crowd did lose interest and, forty minutes later, Fiona, our forensic scientist, was able to make an unimpeded entrance.
While she worked her magic in the truck, White, Arthur and I sat in the back of the forensics van talking with everyone back at base camp.
“What puzzles me most,” said Hannah, “is why they left the lorry behind.”
“They obviously worked it remotely so they wouldn't themselves be affected and intended to collect the equipment later,” said Adam. “If it wasn't for Agent 4's implant we'd never have got onto the source of the signal so quickly.”
“Which means they may well have come back to the area as soon as the signal stopped,” said Hannah. “They may be hanging around now.”
“I doubt it,” I said, “I think we blew that by storming in with the chopper.”
“Sorry, couldn't help over hearing,” chimed in Steve, who was with Fiona in the truck. “There is another possibility. Our implant managed to identify and counteract the signal in a couple of seconds, so it's obviously not a technically complex thing to do. They may well have designed themselves some sort of blocking device so that they could be in the signal area without being affected.”
“I've checked the footage from the time of the signal to your arrival and nobody left the lorry,” said Adam, “I'm going back now to find when it arrived and when the occupants left but it'll take a while.”
“It can't have been there for long,” I said, “or it would have had a parking ticket or been clamped. I checked for that when we arrived.”
“I don't suppose there's any point in leaving the lorry where it is?” said Tim.
“What do you mean?” asked White.
“Well, even if they had a device to block he signal, I doubt they would have stayed within the area anyway. Agent 4 said that the man in the shop turned violent. That may have been the intended purpose of the signal. Even if it wasn't, they could have no way of knowing how people subjected to this signal would behave, assuming that this was a test and they haven't used it before. So if they cleared well out of the area they may well not have been able to get back in due to the general chaos. We managed to stop most of the news crews broadcasting anything of your arrival and the police pounced on anyone taking their own photos. There's a slight chance the perpetrators don't yet know we've found their equipment.”
“Or,” added Hannah, “they may just be so arrogant or convinced of their own invulnerability that they haven't even considered that anyone could trace the signal. Or perhaps the people driving the lorry weren't the people who designed the gear and really aren't that clever – maybe they were just told to deliver the equipment and leave it there. Maybe someone without much in the way of brains is waiting until this evening or even tomorrow to collect the lorry.”
We all pondered these new possibilities in silence for a while.
“I think it's a gamble well worth taking,” I said. “We clear out of here as soon as possible, tell the police to keep schtum, maybe even tell them it was a false alarm or something, and then do a stake out.”
“7, how long will forensics be?” asked White.
“Nearly done. Amazingly there are fingerprints everywhere in the cab, but nothing whatsoever on the equipment.”
“I told you,” said Hannah, “amateur drivers and equipment design pros.”
“Steve,” I asked, “you haven't done anything to the equipment that they could detect remotely, have you?”
“Not unless there are very sophisticated trembling devices in it,” he replied, “there's definitely no form of alarm or surveillance in here. If they closely examine the equipment they'll see traces of the forensic examination.”
“That doesn't matter,” I said, “we'll have the bastards by then.”
“Well, boss,” I said, “do we go for it? There's nothing I can contribute to analysing all the data or the tech stuff, I may as well stay put here for a day at least.”
“I agree. It'll be dark soon, they'll almost certainly wait for that, if they are waiting at all. It'll take us about fifteen minutes to clear out, what do you need, Jen?”
“Arthur, are you up for a night vigil? If they get away you'll be invaluable in tracing them.”
“I'll phone Barbara and make my excuses.”
“Great. Hannah, bring me yourself and... three agents with a car, along with 53 and... 74, five pairs of night vision goggles, the thermal imaging kit, the usual stakeout supplies and extra buckets of coffee.”
“You're really enjoying this, aren't you?” said White.
“That's why you pay me so much, boss,” I grinned back.
An hour later we were all in place, five of us in the street and a back up car a few hundred yards away just in case. I would have preferred a second car in the street itself but there was nowhere we could park it that wouldn't draw attention.
We'd hacked into the CCTV system and had every inch of the street displayed on three laptops. Hannah, being our long range specialist, was positioned on a roof-top covering the lorry with her favourite rifle. Luckily for us all the buildings were offices which would soon be closed for the night. As it didn't lead anywhere, there would be no reason for anyone to be in this street after 7pm. We'd checked out all the buildings and none had any night security staff so the street should be deserted until the morning rubbish collection at 6am.
After a while we observed the last of the office staff locking up and heading off towards the main road.
From the prints found in the cab (no ID yet) we knew that only two people had driven it there but there was every possibility that a larger team would be returning. However, I was confident that the five of us and the three in the backup car would be more than a match for whoever showed up. Or, of course, we could all just be wasting our time.
I was in a handy underground car park that only had one of those barrier arms with a swipe card system and a flimsy rolling plastic grill secured with a padlock (but not for long). I put the grill back down, leaving an inch gap so that it could be quickly opened. The grill was of a lattice work design with plenty of gaps big enough to fire though. We were some distance from the truck but by standing at the left hand side of the grill we had a clear line of sight so that 74 or myself would be able to blow the rear tyres out, as well as seeing anyone getting in or out of the back (there was no connection from the cab to the rear compartment).
I hadn't worked closely with 74 before and he wasn't much of a conversationalist but he did have great powers of concentration. Eschewing caffeine for chocolate bars and extra strong mints, Jason could stand or sit for hours at a stretch seemingly in a world of his own but alert to the tiniest sound or movement. This being the case, and doubting very much that anything would happen in the early part of the evening, I left him at the entrance and retreated to a flask of coffee.
Arthur and 53 were in the rear room of a ground floor office we'd purloined for the night with the laptops.
“All clear,” said 53 in response to my question. She was only about twenty five, one of the youngest T14 agent by some years. Rather quiet and mousey in personality she was incredibly strong for her slight frame, like Hannah. She apparently ran a marathon every fortnight and seemed to spend all her spare time running, swimming or doing something athletic, and ate a very strict vegetarian diet. She worked well with Arthur because they were both quite reserved yet highly efficient and she had had some unfortunate trouble with a couple of younger male agents (now very much ex-agents). I think she was a lot more comfortable around Arthur and White than younger men. I know for a fact that Suzy disliked being around Adam, though I've never told him that. On one assignment she was shocked to see how ruthless and brutal he had been with two men, despite the fact that he was perfectly justified in beating a confession out of the two bombers to save dozens of lives. I know that that side of him is entirely absent except under very specific circumstances but 53 was still very wary around him. I had appraised White of the situation and, with almost a hundred agents, it was easy to keep them apart without hurting Adam's delicate feelings.
Hours ticked by and nothing continued to happen. I was increasingly sure that this was going to be an embarrassing waste of time.
Hannah was the one with the clearest view of the whole street so it was her who finally broke the silence.
“Rubbish truck now entering the street.”
I looked at my watch.
“It's not even three thirty, they're a bit keen, aren't they?”
I thought for a moment.
“Arthur, what colour are the garbage trucks in this district. What markings do they have?”
With his implant it took only a few seconds to find the requisite information.
“This is wrong,” he said with a sense of mounting urgency, “it should be a recycling collection. No, it's completely the wrong type of vehicle.”
I had already put down my coffee and run to the car park entrance.
“96, are you getting this?”
“Already on our way,” he replied.
“Park just out of sight and stay in the car. 53, alert A1 and record all cameras. 4, get yourself to the door and be ready to exit. 6,1 keep on the truck and be ready to blow the tyres if it moves. 74, prepare to exit on my signal, 4, hold back.”
I quickly double checked all my equipment and weapons and held a position just behind the plastic grill, ready to shoot through it if necessary.
Sure enough, the erroneous rubbish vehicle pulled up next to the truck. From our position they were now out of sight.
“Three occupants,” hissed Hannah. “two exiting, driver keeping engine running and appears to be preparing to turn around.”
“Both men casual dress, no visible weapons,” said 53, obviously having zoomed in on the CCTV footage. “One approaching rear of target vehicle.”
Indeed I shortly observed a middle aged man who didn't look like any kind of threat, or tech genius, amble around into sight and give the padlock I'd replaced a cursory look.
“Okay, prepare to advance,” I whispered. “61, do you still have the driver in sight?”
“Yes, he's just idling, waiting for the others to move off is my guess.”
“Good. He's yours. If he gets out with a weapon shoot to disarm, no weapon give him a warning shot.”
“Roger.”
“Man unlocking driving side of target vehicle,” said 74, “ready to take him.”
“I have target passenger in site, ready to take.”
“Okay, on three.”
I grabbed the grill and braced myself.
“One, two, three.”
I threw the light, flimsy barrier upwards without difficulty as 74 crawled underneath and covered the target driver.
“Stop, hands on the vehicle,” he shouted, having fortunately moved his mouth mic so as not to deafen the rest of us. The guy seemed terrified and all but threw himself against the now open door of the truck, making no attempt to resist or reach for a weapon.
“Target one secure,” shouted 74 as I ran around the other side of the truck to join Arthur. Although approaching his mid-50s and no marathon runner he was still in reasonable shape and as sharp as any of us. The second man just stood there, his face frozen in utter confusion. I quickly cuffed his hands behind his back and threw him against the truck.
“Target two secure,” I said, my mic still being on, before running towards the front of the other vehicle.
“61, what's he doing?”
“He's jumping out of the cab. He's left the door open, I've lost...”
She didn't need to finish the sentence. Moving quickly and taking a wide arc around the back of the rubbish truck with my kalashnikov in front of me I saw the driver running towards me. He raised a handgun in a manner which suggested that he knew what he was doing. I let go a short burst and rolled over on the ground in case he managed to get off a shot. He did squeeze off one shot as my rounds virtually severed one of his legs but it stuck harmlessly in the tarmac. The bullet, not his leg. He slumped to the ground but was still holding the gun in one hand and began thrashing around violently, squeezing off one shot into the air, so I shot off that hand. You can't be too careful in this job. With a final spasm he stopped moving.
“Target three eliminated,” I said. Even if he lived he wasn't going to be doing any more shooting.
“Come down, 61. 53, start packing up the gear. 96, keep the end of the street clear and get rid of any spectators.”
I unlocked the back of the truck and we put the two men in there with Arthur and Jason guarding them. I then moved the rubbish truck and, with great difficulty, managed to park the huge thing in front of the lorry. The third guy was already dead so I dragged him and rolled him under the rubbish truck. Now all anyone passing the end of the street would see was a deserted side road with a parked lorry and a car near the entrance. Hannah and I then went into the office to help Suzy pack everything away. With no residences near by I hoped we'd been lucky and that nobody had heard the shots.
White had been sleeping in his office as a precaution and I now appraised him of the situation.
“Pity about the driver, sounds like he was the senior man. The others may know almost nothing.”
“Yes, I'm sorry boss but he'd already starting squeezing the trigger when I opened fire, another half a second and I'm sure he would have hit me in the head.”
“And from the angle he parked the lorry and the open door I couldn't get off a shot to disable him,” said Hannah.
“He looked like he had a very good aim,” I added, “and I've just checked his gun – dumb dumb bullets and the gun looks custom made.”
“Shit,” muttered White, “that's not your average criminal. Okay, can't be helped. Hopefully the other two can at least give us a decent ID on him. Do you need me to send a car for you?”
“No, Arthur can drive the lorry with the others in the back and Suzy and I can go in the backup car. What shall we do about the rubbish truck? Is it worth preserving it for forensics?”
“No,” said the boss, “I'll inform the police and they can deal with it. I'm sure these were the same guys as dumped the target vehicle so we've got forensics on them already. Besides, we can get three sets of finger prints off them tonight.”
“Two and a half,” I corrected.
“Highly amusing, 45. See you soon, I'll put the kettle on.”
“Fucking hell, he's in a good mood considering we've just woken him up.”
“Well,” said Arthur, “we're making relatively good progress. Less than twenty four hours after a major incident we've captured two of the perpetrators and all their equipment.”
“Yes,” I conceded, “but we're a long way from solving the case. We still don't know who built the equipment and why, or how many other trucks like this there may be.”
“Ever the optimist,” said Arthur.
“Ever the realist,” I said.