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Authors: Tom Barber
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towards the door immediately.
Across the city, the Middle Eastern man with the broken nose was watching the webcam feed from a laptop inside a car, a detonator resting beside the keypad. Beside him, the South African was also observing the screen from the driver’s seat. Seeing the police task force turn and run for the door, they both smiled.
The trap had worked.
‘Goodbye,’ the Middle Eastern man said quietly.
And a split-second later, he pushed the detonation switch.
NINE
The two cars made it to the ARU HQ in just over thirty minutes; the journey should have taken longer due to the Saturday early-evening traffic but Chalky and Fox activated the police lights in the front and rear fenders of their two BMWs, clearing a path as vehicles moved out of their way. Archer and Josh rode with Chalky, Shepherd and Marquez with Fox, and the conversation in both cars was minimal, everyone saving their energy and focus for what was coming next.
In the lead BMW, Chalky eventually pulled to a halt in front of a white barrier outside the ARU headquarters in the north of the city. To the left of the barrier was a guard hut and the grey-haired man stationed inside pushed a button to lift the bar, giving Chalky a thumbs up which he acknowledged with a nod. With Fox close behind, the two cars drove in and parked side by side in a couple of empty spaces on the left, ten yards or so from the front of the building.
Everyone stepped out, slamming the doors, and then followed Fox and Chalky as they took the lead and headed towards the entrance. As Archer walked behind them, memories suddenly flooded back as he looked up at his old home, feeling as if he’d just found a stack of old photographs hidden away that he hadn’t seen for a year. He hadn’t been back since he left last May but the ARU HQ hadn’t changed. It was a two storey building shaped in a reverse L, the Operations area on the 1 st floor and the interrogation cells, locker room and gun-cage on the ground floor, along the long corridor that led towards the rear of the building.
Although the Unit had only been in existence for three years, they’d been attacked here in the past, so an urgent redesign of the building had taken place just before Archer had left which meant it was now more like a fortress, each section designed as an isolated unit. Every pane of glass was bulletproof, a guard stationed on both the gate and inside the entrance and a well-stocked armoury to provide sufficient firepower for the ten task force officers who worked out of the Unit.
Glancing up as he walked, Archer caught a glimpse of one of the rotors of the Unit’s black helicopter. The sight of the vessel stirred a memory from a rainy night in April the year before and he subconsciously touched a thin jagged scar hidden under his hairline that ran from the middle of his brow down to his left temple.
‘Home sweet home,’ Chalky said as they approached the door.
Behind him, looking up at the chopper’s rotor, Archer didn’t reply.
As Fox pulled open the front door and the group walked inside, Archer saw a Perspex glass panel had been set up between the entrance and the access to the rest of the building beyond, an extra precaution to prevent unwanted intruders. An officer he didn’t recognise was sitting behind a desk, protected by another layer of bulletproof glass. The man looked young and friendly but also brisk and professional, brown haired, somewhere in his mid-twenties.
Seeing the group, the man pushed a button and the panel blocking off the interior of the building slid back.
‘This is Lipton,’ Chalky said, the man raising his hand in welcome as the group nodded a greeting to him. ‘Any progress, Lip?’
He nodded. ‘You better all get up there. Something’s happened.’
‘In Brixton?’
‘I’m not sure. But I heard the commotion from down here.’
Without a word, the group walked up the stairs quickly, and after arriving on the second level they walked
Across the city, the Middle Eastern man with the broken nose was watching the webcam feed from a laptop inside a car, a detonator resting beside the keypad. Beside him, the South African was also observing the screen from the driver’s seat. Seeing the police task force turn and run for the door, they both smiled.
The trap had worked.
‘Goodbye,’ the Middle Eastern man said quietly.
And a split-second later, he pushed the detonation switch.
NINE
The two cars made it to the ARU HQ in just over thirty minutes; the journey should have taken longer due to the Saturday early-evening traffic but Chalky and Fox activated the police lights in the front and rear fenders of their two BMWs, clearing a path as vehicles moved out of their way. Archer and Josh rode with Chalky, Shepherd and Marquez with Fox, and the conversation in both cars was minimal, everyone saving their energy and focus for what was coming next.
In the lead BMW, Chalky eventually pulled to a halt in front of a white barrier outside the ARU headquarters in the north of the city. To the left of the barrier was a guard hut and the grey-haired man stationed inside pushed a button to lift the bar, giving Chalky a thumbs up which he acknowledged with a nod. With Fox close behind, the two cars drove in and parked side by side in a couple of empty spaces on the left, ten yards or so from the front of the building.
Everyone stepped out, slamming the doors, and then followed Fox and Chalky as they took the lead and headed towards the entrance. As Archer walked behind them, memories suddenly flooded back as he looked up at his old home, feeling as if he’d just found a stack of old photographs hidden away that he hadn’t seen for a year. He hadn’t been back since he left last May but the ARU HQ hadn’t changed. It was a two storey building shaped in a reverse L, the Operations area on the 1 st floor and the interrogation cells, locker room and gun-cage on the ground floor, along the long corridor that led towards the rear of the building.
Although the Unit had only been in existence for three years, they’d been attacked here in the past, so an urgent redesign of the building had taken place just before Archer had left which meant it was now more like a fortress, each section designed as an isolated unit. Every pane of glass was bulletproof, a guard stationed on both the gate and inside the entrance and a well-stocked armoury to provide sufficient firepower for the ten task force officers who worked out of the Unit.
Glancing up as he walked, Archer caught a glimpse of one of the rotors of the Unit’s black helicopter. The sight of the vessel stirred a memory from a rainy night in April the year before and he subconsciously touched a thin jagged scar hidden under his hairline that ran from the middle of his brow down to his left temple.
‘Home sweet home,’ Chalky said as they approached the door.
Behind him, looking up at the chopper’s rotor, Archer didn’t reply.
As Fox pulled open the front door and the group walked inside, Archer saw a Perspex glass panel had been set up between the entrance and the access to the rest of the building beyond, an extra precaution to prevent unwanted intruders. An officer he didn’t recognise was sitting behind a desk, protected by another layer of bulletproof glass. The man looked young and friendly but also brisk and professional, brown haired, somewhere in his mid-twenties.
Seeing the group, the man pushed a button and the panel blocking off the interior of the building slid back.
‘This is Lipton,’ Chalky said, the man raising his hand in welcome as the group nodded a greeting to him. ‘Any progress, Lip?’
He nodded. ‘You better all get up there. Something’s happened.’
‘In Brixton?’
‘I’m not sure. But I heard the commotion from down here.’
Without a word, the group walked up the stairs quickly, and after arriving on the second level they walked
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