James Acton 01 - The Protocol (19 page)

“How would you ever find them?” asked Laura, looking very worried about where this was heading.

Acton held up the skull. “I have bait.”

Scotland Yard Situation Room

“Professor James Edward Acton,” announced Reading. He handed the folder over to Chaney. “He had to register in Oman for an archeological dig six years ago which means his face made it into Interpol’s database. We know who he is, the questions now are, why is he here, who is following him and why was Monsieur Savard tortured and killed?”

“And how does the ambush on the van fit in?” added Chaney.

Reading nodded. “Nelson, I want you to find out where that van came from and where—”

“Sir!” yelled one of the men manning the Yard’s central communications system. “They’ve just found the first getaway vehicle!”

“Send armed response units immediately,” ordered Reading. “Surround them, but wait until we get there.”

“Yes, sir!” The man returned to his station and plugged back into the network, relaying the orders.

Reading was already heading toward the door, Chaney following him. Nelson stood there, not sure what to do. Reading, without looking back, called, “Coming, Nelson?”

Nelson smiled. “Yes, sir!”

Laura Palmer’s Flat, London, England

Acton looked at Laura for a reaction. Her expression wasn’t what he had expected.
She almost looks…horrified!
Acton couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t want to take down an organization that had killed so many innocent people.

“How are you going to ‘wipe them out’?”

“I’m not sure, but first we need to identify them,” said Acton, “and then try and get them on tape, I guess, admitting their guilt. After that, we could take the tape to the authorities and let them take action.” The more Acton explained his plan the more ridiculous it sounded.
There’s no way in hell they’ll admit what they did on tape!
“Okay, maybe we need a better plan.”

“We?”

“Well, I guess I just sort of assumed….”

“Of course I’m in,” said Laura. “Not necessarily for the same reasons you have, but for a more selfish reason.”

“What’s that?” asked Acton.

“Self-preservation. People around you have a nasty habit of turning up dead, and I don’t intend to be one of them.”

Fleet Street, London

“Is everyone in position?” asked Reading as he exited his car and approached the mobile command set up two blocks from the discovered SUV.

“Yes,
sir
,” replied the Armed Response Unit commander. “Just waiting for your orders,
sir
.” Reading could hear the disdain in the man's voice. He didn't blame him.
God knows there's enough glorified DCI's about that have never even shot a gun.

“Do we know if anyone is in the vehicle?” asked Chaney.

“Can’t tell,
sir
. Cameras showed people exiting the vehicle, but the windows are all blacked out so there could still be someone inside.”

“And the other team?” asked Reading. En route, word had come of the location of the second SUV.

“They are in position as well, awaiting your orders,
sir
.”

Reading chose to ignore the attitude.
For now
. “Proceed, Commander.”

The ARU Commander spoke into his mike. “All units, stand by, proceed in five… four… three… two… one…
GO! GO! GO!”
From down the street yelling erupted and ARU agents raced out from around the corners of buildings, surrounding the SUV.

“Occupants of the vehicle, armed police! Open the doors and come out with your hands in the air!” ordered one of the men over a megaphone. There was no response. “This is your last warning, come out with your hands raised immediately!” Again, no response.

He motioned to one of his men who approached the driver’s side door at a crouch, all the while aiming his weapon at the window. When he reached the side of the vehicle he used a small mirror on an extendable pole to check to see if the door was wired. Satisfied, he put the mirror away and with his back pressed against the vehicle, reached up with one hand to grasp the door handle and pulled.

The blast blew him into several pieces. The ARU officers surrounding the van were thrown backward as if tugged by ropes attached to their backs. The three closest on the sidewalk side hit the brick building with full force, breaking most of the bones in their bodies. They died instantly. Those on the other side landed across the street on the sidewalk, their body armor having protected them for the most part.

“Team Two, abort! I say again, abort!” The ARU Commander shouted into his mike. There was no response. “Team Two, this is Team Leader, what is your status!”

There was still no answer then a burst of static followed by, “Team Leader, this is Two, some sort of detonation has occurred. My men are down! I repeat, my men are down!”

Reading was already on his phone calling for medical support to both sites and a bomb disposal unit, while Chaney and Nelson ran toward the downed men.

“Be careful of secondary explosions!” yelled Reading after them. He turned to the ARU Commander. “Commander, set up a perimeter, half a mile in all directions. Nobody gets in or out without being spoken to.” The commander nodded, showing a bit more respect. Reading saw the change in attitude and smiled. “Falklands War,” explained Reading. “I’ve been around guns since you were popping pimples.”

“Yes, sir,” stammered the Commander. “Sorry, sir.”

“Execute your orders, Commander.”

“Yes, sir!” he snapped to attention and ran off to organize the arriving backup units.

Reading strode toward the flaming wreckage that was the SUV.
How many more have to die and why?

Triarii Headquarters, London, England

The chamber was rocked by an explosion. There was momentary panic until the noise died down and they realized they were still intact. The Proconsul looked to the man on his left.

“Find out what happened!”

The man rose and ran to the chamber doors. As he left, the phone rang. The Proconsul looked at his display confused.
Who would have this number?
He hit the intercom to put the call on speaker.

“Did you get the message?” a disembodied, electronically altered voice said on the other end.

“What message?” asked the Proconsul.

“I think you know what I’m talking about. My employer wanted to remind you that he knows where you are.” The phone went dead.

The Proconsul pressed the button, cutting off the dial tone. Everyone looked at each other in stunned silence. At that moment the doors to the chamber flew open and the previously dispatched member ran back in. “There were two car bombs, one over the road, the other a half mile away,” said the breathless man as he returned to his seat. “Apparently there are a lot of dead police.”

The Proconsul nodded. “I believe we have a bigger problem than we thought.”

Fleet Street, London

Six more dead.
Reading clenched his jaw, anger seething inside him, as he watched the ambulance personnel loading the injured men onto gurneys.
We need to find Acton!

“Guv,” said Chaney behind him. Reading turned. Chaney was covered in blood having saved one man by sticking his fingers in a wound and pinching a ruptured artery.

Sometimes Reading forgot Chaney had once gone to medical school then dropped out. After seeing so many bodies come through the E.R. he’d decided he wanted to be out on the street trying to prevent the crimes that sent the victims to the doctors.

“We found out where the box van came from.”

“Where?”

“The British Museum. We have footage of the vehicle leaving there ten minutes before they were hit. We’re still backtracking where they originally came from.”

“Okay, you and I will go to the museum and see what they were doing there,” said Reading. “Nelson! You take command of the situation here and keep me posted.”

“Yes, sir!” acknowledged Nelson from down the street where he was examining the wreckage of the SUV.

Chaney popped the trunk to their car and fished out a change of clothes. Quickly donning a fresh shirt and tie, he ducked into an alley to change his blood soaked pants. Not having a new suit jacket, he’d have to go without until he made it back to The Yard. He climbed into the car, Reading already waiting for him.

British Museum, London

“Look.” Clive pointed to the monitor showing a car pull up and two men exiting the vehicle. They watched the younger one approach the glass doors and peer through. He knocked on the glass as he reached in his pocket and pulled out his warrant card. He held it up to the nearby camera.

Rodney pressed a hand to his stomach. “Coppers!”

Clive glanced at his friend.
What’s eating him?
He leaned into the intercom system. “Who’s closest to the Great Russell Street entrance?”

There was a crackle then a voice responded. “Paul here, I’m about fifty feet away. What’s the problem?”

“There’s two coppers at the door. See what they want.”

“Roger, I’ll check it out.”

A few moments later, Clive and Rodney watched Paul trotting toward the doors. He inspected the cards through the window and lifted his radio. “They’re copperss, all right, and they want in.”

“Okay, just a moment.” Clive hit a few keys on the keyboard and they watched Paul open the door. The two men entered and Paul closed the door behind them. Clive reactivated the locks as he and Rodney watched the three men. They spoke for a few seconds then Paul lifted his radio, again.

“They said there was some sort of murder tonight that involves the museum and they want to review the tapes. I’ll bring them up to the control room.”

Rodney turned pale as he watched the three men disappear from the view of the camera. Clive noticed.

“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“No, nothing, I’m just feeling poorly. Maybe something I ate.” With that, he left the control room and headed for the bathrooms.

Clive chuckled and looked back at the monitors, watching Paul escort the police to the control room.
A murder?
He rubbed his chest where the Liverpool flag had hit him and was surprised at how much it still hurt.
How hard did he hit me with that thing?

Rodney ran to the bathroom and entered a stall where he knew there were no cameras. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed. When the line picked up there was silence. His heart was beating so fast he tried to calm his nerves.

He knew the system would only allow him two attempts to get the code right before it would block his number from ever calling again. As calmly as he could, he said, “Seventy-Four Sixty-Two Oh One.” There was a pause then ringing as the call was directed elsewhere. He breathed a sigh of relief. The next pickup had a human at the other end.

“Yes,” was all they said.

“I need guidance, something has gone wrong.”

“One moment.” Again, the call was redirected.

“Yes?” said the new voice.

“The police are here, something about a murder. They want to review the tapes,” said Rodney.

“Have you had time to erase them?”

“No, not yet. The plan was to erase them over the rest of the shift, but Clive hasn’t left his post yet.”

“Very well,” said the voice. “Our team was eliminated by outside forces after they left.”

“Eliminated?” asked Rodney in shock. “As in topped?”

“Yes,” replied the coldly calm voice. “There is nothing more you can do there. I want you to leave immediately.”

“Yes, miss.” The line went dead and he put the phone back in his pocket.
Now I need to get Clive to open the rear entrance so I can get out of here.

“Our agent at the museum reports that the police have arrived,” said the British Museum Member as she put down her phone. “He has not had time to erase the tapes therefore our presence there will be discovered. I have instructed him to leave.”

“It appears that we must take action now,” said the Proconsul. “Implement The Protocol without delay.” All of the members, with the exception of the Proconsul, stood and left. Remaining seated, he contemplated the situation. He had lost one skull under his watch tonight. He couldn’t risk any more. They had to be taken into safekeeping for now, until this crisis could be defused. He feared, though, what that might involve.

As Rodney entered the control room he saw the two policemen and Clive looking at the monitors.

“Oh, hi, Rodney. Feeling better?”

He nodded.

Clive motioned to the two guests. “This is DCI Reading and DI–. Sorry, I’m terrible with names.”

“Chaney.”

Rodney shook the proffered hands. “Rodney Underwood.”

“Apparently a truck left the museum tonight and was attacked,” Clive said to Rodney. “I told the detectives that they must be mistaken as we haven’t had any deliveries or pickups tonight. Here’s the footage for the loading dock.” The tape raced backward showing the loading dock. The time code in the bottom of the screen counted down.

“Stop!” said Chaney. “Back it up a bit.” Clive let the tape play forward a little more slowly and they could see a cube van exit the loading dock. “There it is.”

“I’ll be—” Clive looked at the time code.
That was when I was out cold!
He rubbed his chest and glanced at Rodney, who looked nervous.
What is going on here?

“Let’s see the rest of the footage,” said Reading. “I want to know what they were doing here.”

“Yes, sir.” Clive turned back to the monitors. He brought up the footage and they all watched as it played out in reverse.

“What room is that?” asked Chaney as they watched the men disappear for several minutes inside a room. “Are there any cameras in there?”

Clive shook his head. “No, sir, it’s a storage room for the archaeology department. The only way in or out is that door so we have no cameras in there.”