James Acton 01 - The Protocol (24 page)

Gentle ambient lighting gave the illusion of being above ground. Sitting in his chair, he put his feet up on the ottoman and closed his eyes, the drink balancing in his right hand on the arm of the chair.
Don’t worry. Once this crisis is over, we’ll be back. You won’t lose the council’s home of four hundred years on your watch.

Montague Place, London, England

Rodney’s phone rang again. He listened then hung up. “We are going to retrieve Professor Palmer,” he said to Acton. “It would be beneficial if you were at the Triarii headquarters to meet her upon her arrival.”

“Why are you taking her?” asked Acton, suddenly feeling very protective of a woman he had only met earlier that day. “Why not leave her there? Surely she’s safe in a police station?”

“The men we are dealing with have all of the resources of the United States government at their disposal. And clearly no qualms about killing. Do you really believe they didn’t intercept the radio call telling the station that they were bringing her in and why?”

Acton thought for a moment. “I suppose you’re right,” he agreed. “Assuming you’re telling me the truth,” he added.
Man, I hope he is.

“You’ll just have to trust me. Now come with me, we’ll go to the council chambers and wait for her arrival.”

Acton nodded and followed Rodney out of the alley. He shivered, chilled to the bone after having spent so much time in the cold. A police car cruised by, the officers inside looking at the two men closely, then continuing on. Another car pulled up in front of them a moment later and Rodney opened the door.

“After you.”

Acton climbed into the car, suddenly unsure if he had made the right decision.

RAF Lakenheath, USAF 48
^th
Fighter Wing

Dawson sipped on a bottle of water, watching the men play pool. The door to the rec room opened and Red walked over, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “I made those calls, it will take some time.” Dawson nodded as Red rose up and raised his voice. “You’ve got a call in the communications center, Sergeant Major.”

Dawson stood and headed over to the room where they had set up their secure satellite communications equipment. “Bravo One here,” he said into the microphone.

“Bravo One, this is Control. A Professor Palmer is being held at Scotland Yard. Details are being sent now. Retrieve her, alive. She may know where the item is. If not she can be used as bait for Professor Acton. Try to keep casualties to a minimum, make it look gang related.”

“Roger, Control, Bravo One, out.”

He shook his head.
Attack Scotland Yard? This is getting ridiculous.
He left the communications center and returned to the rec area. His team stopped what they were doing and looked at their commander.

“Gear up gentlemen, gangland cover, briefing in five.”

New Scotland Yard

Laura sat in the interrogation room, staring at the mirror then the acoustic tiles in the ceiling. She yawned and started to count the holes.
I hope James is okay.
She looked back at the mirror. She knew it was definitely one of those two-way mirrors, and someone was probably on the other side watching her. The WPC assigned to watch her so she didn’t “hurt” herself stood by the door, staring at the floor. Sipping the tea Reading had brought her earlier, she waited.

She hadn’t waited long before the lights went out. Emergency lighting immediately kicked in, dimly illuminating the room. “What’s going on?”

“Wait here,” said the constable. She opened the door and looked into the hallway.

Reading heard snoring on the other side of his office door. He looked through the glass and saw his two American guests, who had been waiting for hours, sound asleep in their chairs. He slapped Chaney on the chest and pointed. Chaney smiled as Reading threw open the door, loudly hitting the doorstop and rattling the glass.

“Good evening, gentlemen, or rather good morning I should say,” said Reading in an overly loud voice. Jasper and Lambert scrambled up in their chairs, jarred awake by the slammed door. “How can I help our American allies today? Tea?”

“Coffee if you’ve got it,” said Jasper, straightening himself up. He looked at his watch and frowned.

“Same,” said Lambert, rubbing his eyes. Reading nodded to Chaney who left the room to find a PC to fill the order.

“So, how may I be of service?”

“We’re looking for this man,” said Jasper, leaning forward and handing a file folder to Reading. “His name is Professor James Acton. We were told you were looking for him as well.”

“Yes, he’s wanted in connection with several investigations.” Reading opened the folder, which only contained a photo. He handed it back. “Why, may I ask, are you looking for him?”

“I’m afraid that’s confidential,” replied Lambert.

Jasper looked at his underling with a slightly exasperated expression. “We’re looking for him in connection to an investigation we’re working on – the slaughter of his entire archaeological team in Peru. He was the only survivor and has stayed in hiding.”

“Professor Acton seems to be a very popular man. And busy,” said Reading to Chaney as he re-entered the room. “Our colleagues here are looking for him in connection to killings in Peru.”

Chaney raised his eyebrows in surprise. “He certainly does get around. Is he suspected of being involved?”

Jasper shook his head. “Right now, he’s just a person of interest. We've been tasked to bring him back to the United States for questioning.”

“Why didn’t the State Department just contact our Home Office? Why the personal visit?” asked Reading.

“Our orders come from the highest authority.” Jasper leaned in and lowered his voice. “Look, we nearly had him in New York, but lost him. Basically my career is on the line here. I was told to come back with him or not come back at all.”

Reading nodded. “Well, I’ll certainly keep you informed if we find him. He’s not suspected in any of the murders so after questioning we will probably be able to release him into your custody.”

“That would be acceptable.”

There was a knock at the door. Chaney opened it and a PC entered with a tray containing a tea service and two coffees. As he walked toward the desk, balancing the shaking tray like a waiter on his first day, the lights went out, and he lost any equilibrium he may have had. In the dark there was a yelp and a crashing sound as scalding hot coffee and tea splattered across the floor. When the emergency lights kicked in, Lambert stood, covered in coffee and tea, trying desperately to get the hot liquid off his hands and lap.

Ooh, that’ll boil the bollocks.

“Constable, show the Agent to the loo so he can clean up,” said Reading, who then looked at Chaney. “Find out what’s going on.”

Chaney nodded and left the room, dodging a bow legged Lambert as he gingerly walked his boys toward the bathroom, a grinning Police Constable directing him from behind.

Dawson activated his comm from the SUV’s passenger seat.

“Bravo One to Bravo Team. Remember, these are our allies. Keep casualties to a minimum, non-lethal force wherever possible. We don’t need an international incident here. Bravo One, out.” They waited at the side prisoner transfer entrance of New Scotland Yard. This entrance was the closest to the interrogation rooms where Professor Palmer was probably being held. Red was at the main entrance waiting to create a diversion.

Marco was in an underground access point, ready to cut the entire power grid for New Scotland Yard and the surrounding area. “Bravo Nine in position,” he signaled.

“Bravo Nine, proceed on my mark in three, two, one, mark.” The power went out all around them. It was the middle of the night, and it was now pitch black except for a few emergency lights on the outside of the building. “Bravo teams proceed.”

Dawson pulled the ski mask down over his face and the rest of his team followed. A few seconds later, the alarm rang inside the building and explosions and gunfire erupted from the front entrance. Dawson’s team exited the vehicle. They ran to the prisoner transfer door and tried the handle. It was locked. Dawson pointed to the lock and Clint immediately placed a small C4 charge on it. They turned their heads away and he hit the remote detonator. The small explosion made quick work of the locking mechanism. Dawson pulled the door open and two of his men took up position on either side of the entrance as the rest of the team rushed in.

Chaos reigned. Most of the reduced nightshift staff had run to the front of the building to see what was happening. One lone desk officer was left and when he saw the heavily armed men enter he ran for cover. Dawson Tasered him in the leg and motioned for his team to bind him. They blew the inner door, then Dawson and Smitty entered the next corridor, leaving the final two team members to guard their escape route. As they trotted down the corridor looking through the windows, half way down the hall a lone constable stuck her head out a door.

“What is it?” asked Laura.

“I don’t know,” replied the Constable. “There seems to be—oh my God!” She fell backward into a heap on the floor, shaking from the electric shock of a Taser that had just hit her. Laura jumped out of her chair as two men wearing ski-masks entered the room.

“Come with us, Professor Palmer,” the bigger of the two said. She shook her head and started to move toward the back of the room. He raised his weapon and pointed it directly at her. “Now, Professor Palmer.”

The smaller one, who was by no means small, approached her and grabbed her by the arm. She immediately kicked him in the groin and kneed him in the face as he doubled over.

Reading jumped from his desk and ran out into the hallway when he heard the explosions, telling his guests to wait.

“What the hell is going on?” he asked one of the constables who was running away from the shooting.

“We’re under attack! We have to get to the weapons vault!” He continued down the hallway with Reading in pursuit. They descended a flight of stairs and rounded a corner. As they neared the vault, some of their colleagues passed them with weapons in hand as they ran to the fight at the front of the building. Reading and the constable arrived as Chaney was loading his weapon.

“Hello, guv! I was just coming to get you. Any idea what’s going on?”

“No, just that the main entrance is apparently under attack.”

“Sounds like a diversion to me,” said Chaney.

“Me, too,” agreed Reading. “There’s only one person here that I can think of who would attract this kind of attention.”

Chaney nodded. “Professor Palmer.”

Reading loaded the weapon he had been given and chambered a round. He was still putting on his body armor as he followed Chaney out the door and up the stairs. He grabbed two armed constables along the way. “You two, come with us.” The men fell in behind them.

Dawson chuckled to himself as he watched Smitty trying to nurse his now tender balls.
Should’a worn a cup!
He wasn’t about to underestimate this lady. He approached her from around the table. She tried to kick him, but he caught her leg, leaned in and pistol-whipped her on the side of her head. She went limp, out cold. He put her over his shoulder and headed toward the door, Smitty limping behind him.

Reading and Chaney burst through the door that led to the interrogation rooms. As they ran toward the room the professor was being held in, they saw two men exit, one carrying what looked like a body over his shoulder.

“Stop!” yelled Reading.

The man without the body whipped around and opened fire, spraying bullets along the wall, the impacts approaching their position. Reading raised his weapon and shot. The man collapsed, a tiny hole in the front of his head, a much larger one in the back. The second man turned around and shifted the body to use as a shield. It was the professor.

“Let her go!” ordered Reading.

No response. The man continued toward the other end of the hallway. Reading raised his weapon again and shot the man in the shoulder. He dropped the gun he was holding, then the professor. Reading and Chaney, followed by the two constables, rushed him and brought him down to the floor. Chaney picked up the professor and tried to revive her.

Dawson grunted in pain as they searched him for weapons.
Any time now guys!
Suddenly a burst of gunfire erupted over his head. One of the constables fell to the floor. The other started returning fire, but was soon cut down. Dawson looked down the hall and saw two of his men running toward them, rushing their position with a steady stream of gunfire. He elbowed the guy who had shot him out of the way and retreated along the hallway, hugging the wall so his men had a clean field of fire.

Reading winced at the sudden pain in his nose. Momentarily disoriented, he didn’t know who had grabbed him by the shoulder and was now dragging him to his feet. When he regained his senses, he saw it was Chaney who had pulled him up and was now running toward the other end of the hallway with the professor in a fireman’s hold, all the while shooting behind him. Reading glanced at the two dead constables at his feet then ran after Chaney. Bullets sprayed all around him. He kept crouching and firing blindly behind him, hoping their aim would be as bad as his if they had to keep finding cover. Just as he reached the end of the hallway he felt something like a two-by-four slam into his back. He flew forward and hit the ground, the wind completely knocked out of him.

Dawson retrieved his weapon and grabbed Smitty’s body.

“You two, go after them and get the fucking target.” He made his way toward the exit dragging the body of his fallen comrade toward the SUV. As he went through the inner doors he saw that his two men from the main entrance had redeployed to cover both doors when he had fallen under attack.

“Take him,” he said to Spock, now guarding the inner door. Spock's eyes widened, but he grabbed the body, hoisted it over his shoulder, and double-timed it back to the SUV.