Secret Combinations (37 page)

“Thank you,” said Kenyon.

Lady Beatrice sat back. “But we were also curious as to the coincidence of her association with
TEQ
and her nephew Jack Kenyon's involvement in the San Francisco theft. We assigned commander Harold Twiggley to place you under observation.”

“Twiggley?” Kenyon turned toward Harry, who was grinning widely. He returned his attention to Lady Beatrice. “So, you didn't even know Lydia was murdered?”

“My apologies for downplaying the manner of her death,” said Arundel. “We were, of course, grateful you had made the discovery, but we didn't wish to tip the cabal off.”

“Because you didn't even know who they were,” said Kenyon.

“Guilty as charged,” replied Lady Beatrice. “We had our suspicions of the man whom you knew as Hadrian deWolfe, but we correctly assumed he wasn't acting alone. We needed to learn more, and quickly.”

“So, you kept me in play as a stalking horse, just like deWolfe.”

“Correct,” said Arundel. “We wanted to round up the senior conspirators and regain control of the virus.”

“Then why did you try to arrest me?” said Kenyon.

“You can thank assistant
US
attorney Deaver for that,” said Lady Beatrice. “When he appeared in London with his accusations, we were compelled to go through the motions, as it were.”

Kenyon turned to Arundel. “That's why you didn't put up a fight when I escaped.”

“You were far more useful on-the-prowl, as it were,” Arundel said, “than in jail.”

Kenyon stared out the window. They were back in London, approaching the center of town. They passed Waterloo Station, then headed east along a major road. Kenyon caught sight of a road sign that read “Southwark Street.”

Harry eased up on the accelerator and consulted a monitor in the front of the car. “She's slowed down, ma'am,” he said. He tapped a hot key on the console, and the monitor flashed an enlarged map version of the neighborhood. There was a soft buzz as the console spit out a printed version of the map.

“Her destination appears to be in the warehouse district,” said Arundel, studying the map

Lady Beatrice glanced at her son, nodding. “Prepare an assault.”

The Bentley eased forward through
the dark street. The neighborhood had an empty, hollow feel to it. Except for a few large trucks trundling past, the streets were deserted.

Southwark Street was flanked by long, low, two-story brick warehouses, many of them dirty and rundown. A brightly painted billboard advertising Woolwright's Guild, a condominium development, was nailed to an abandoned warehouse. Kenyon could smell a salty, tidal odor; they must be somewhere near the Thames, he concluded. Every minute or so, the air was filled with the roar of a large jet passing overhead, making Kenyon think that they were under the approach to Heathrow.

Harry dimmed the headlights and crept forward. Keeping a careful eye on the
GPS
console, he turned down a lane. Through the gap at the end of the street, the distinctive dome of St Paul's cathedral gleamed in the distance.

Harry finally came to a halt. He pointed to a warehouse directly ahead. “She's in there, ma'am.”

The warehouse was two stories tall, made of cut stone and thick oak beams. It appeared to be abandoned. The front door was boarded-up and the windows on the second floor were broken. The interior was dark.

“Are you certain this is the one?” asked Arundel. “I don't see her car.”

Harry pointed to several sets of double wooden doors covering archways at the front of the building. “You could fit a lorry through one of them,” he said. “It must be inside.”

“Right,” said Arundel. “Where are the lads?”

Just as he spoke, three small buses with their lights out pulled up behind the Bentley. Each was painted flat black, had heavily tinted windows and the thick, knobby tires often seen on assault vehicles.

Kenyon, Arundel, and Harry got out of the Bentley and joined two dozen troops as they poured out of the vehicles. The men were all dressed in black and looked like they could snap a lumberjack like a twig. A Scotsman with strands of flaming red hair poking from under a dark cap stepped forward. “
SAS
Lieutenant Farnham here, sir. Fox, Viper, and Wolf units reporting for duty.”

“Excellent,” said Arundel. He spread the map out on the trunk of the Bentley. One of the men leaned forward with a flashlight, hooded so that it only cast a tiny light on the map. “Alert Thames patrol not to approach closer than Southwark bridge. Have them patch into communications band three. We'll call if we need them.”

“Air support, sir?” asked Farnham.

“Bring in the helicopter, but keep it above three thousand metres,” said Arundel.

“Right, sir.”

As Farnham conveyed the commands through the radio, Arundel turned to the rest of the men. “Anybody familiar with the building?” he asked.

The men glanced at one another, then shook their heads no.

“I can have city planning check archives, sir,” said Harry.

“I'm afraid we can't dally,” replied Arundel. “Does anyone have a nightscope?”

One of the soldiers drew out a large pair of binoculars. Arundel lifted them to his face and peered at the building for several moments, before turning to Harry.

“Commander, what's your opinion on the second-story window to the right?”

Harry took the night scope and stared at the building intently. “Half-inch iron works held on by bolts, sir. Looks like the window's busted out behind it. Piece a cake.”

“Right,” said Arundel. “Wolf unit guards the rear and Viper stations out front, ready for assault. I shall lead Fox on the infiltration.”

Kenyon took the nightscope from Harry's hands and peered at the building for a second. “Anybody know computers?” he asked aloud.

Several men turned back, blank looks on their faces.

Kenyon pointed to the roof. “See that dish? That's a satellite uplink.”

“What of it?” asked Arundel.

“You don't put a fifteen-thousand-dollar dish on an abandoned building for nothing. They're going to launch Cyberworm from here. I'm going in with you.”

Arundel glanced at the dish for a moment. “We'll secure the building, then we'll let you in.”

“You want to take that chance?”

Arundel stared at Kenyon for a moment, then made up his mind. “You wear full body armor. No weapon. Keep to the rear. I don't want any heroics. Agreed?”

Kenyon smiled. “You got it.”

The men quickly suited Kenyon up in body armor and a helmet. The helmet was made of light steel. The body armor was a long vest with a flap that extended over the crotch. It was much lighter than he expected. He pulled a plate out and hefted it. It appeared to be made of some resinous material.

“Graphite laminate,” explained Harry as he walked past. “Stop a titanium-tipped bullet, it will.”

Kenyon tucked the plate back into the flap and joined Fox unit as they crowded into the first bus. Arundel closed the door, then tapped the driver on the helmet. The bus moved slowly forward.

The driver eased the vehicle over the curb and pulled it up adjacent to the building. Arundel waved his hand once, and two men slipped out the rear door and took up positions clutching automatic pistols. The rest of the soldiers exited the front and waited beside the vehicle.

Farnham lifted a small, dual-tank torch mounted on a backpack and slipped the straps through his shoulders. He then grabbed the top of the rear door and vaulted onto the roof of the bus. Keeping against the wall, he lit the tip of the portable torch and quickly burned the heads of the main bolts holding the rusty grille over the window. He waited until a plane was passing directly overhead providing sound cover, then jerked the grille off its mounts.

The men below waited for a second, their guns ready, but no one appeared at the window.

“Right,” said Arundel. “In we go.”

The lead man quickly scaled the bus and clambered through the window, careful to avoid the red-hot bolts. He turned on a flashlight and examined the room. It was empty except for a moldering pile of carpet. He stuck his arm out the window and gave the all-clear. The rest of the soldiers entered the building, Kenyon following last.

The upstairs of the warehouse consisted of several large rooms connected by a wide hallway. Fox unit moved quickly down the hall, the large men astonishingly quiet on crepe-soled boots. When they got there, Kenyon was relieved to see that, except for some rubble and discarded machinery, the upper rooms were empty.

The hallway ended at a large steel staircase. Arundel crept to the top of the stairs with the nightscope and peered down. He returned a few seconds later. “No sign of anyone moving about,” he said. “There's light coming from a room at the far end. I think they're inside.”

“Should we call in Viper unit?” asked Farnham.

Arundel shook his head. “No, we'd just end up shooting each other in the arse.” He glanced down the steps, then turned to his men. “Follow me.”

One by one, the men advanced down the steps. Kenyon came last, careful not to make any noise.

The main floor was one large open space, supported by thick wooden beams. At the end of the main room was a smaller alcove. The alcove's door, a thick steel barrier that moved horizontally on rollers, had been drawn back, and they could faintly hear voices coming from within.

A shallow steel dyeing vat set into the floor about twenty feet from the alcove made a convenient point of concealment. Kenyon joined the rest of the men behind the vat and crouched down. The reek of ancient scum emanated from the empty container.

Arundel tapped Kenyon on the shoulder and motioned him forward. Bent low, the two men crept ahead until they had a better view of the lit room.

Inside, Kenyon could see a dark, swarthy man hunched over a computer terminal, busily typing on the keypad. Garbajian stood behind him, his eyes transfixed on the monitor.

“Does it work, Basid?” asked Garbajian.

Basid turned to Garbajian. “It is decrypting now. In a few moments, we shall have the virus.”

A woman stepped into the light. “Excellent,” said Ilsa. “You will transfer the funds, now.”

Arundel stood up and trained his weapon at the trio. “You are all under arrest,” he said, in a clear, loud voice.

The effect was like an electric shock. Garbajian, Basid, and Ilsa simultaneously spun towards the door, their mouths wide open in surprise.

Suddenly, Garbajian's guard Hazzim stepped into the doorway.

Arundel stopped in his tracks and pointed his gun at the one-eyed man. “Put your hands up,” he ordered.

Hazzim's hands rose slowly from his side. Instead of raising them over his head, however, he turned the palm of his left hand forward, and a small, cylindrical object rolled out onto the floor of the main room.

Kenyon grabbed Arundel and pushed him backwards. They both tumbled into the large dye vat just as the grenade exploded.

His head ringing, Kenyon eased
himself up onto his knees and peered cautiously over the lip of the vat, just in time to witness Hazzim swing the heavy door shut.

A barrage of gunfire erupted from Fox unit, ricocheting off the thick steel.

Almost simultaneously, a side door burst into splinters as Viper unit forced their way into the warehouse.

“Hold your fire!” shouted Arundel.

Fox unit instantly silenced their weapons.

“Viper! Take holding cover!” commanded Arundel.

The men from Viper unit joined Fox behind the vat, several men keeping their weapons trained on the door.

“What's the status, sir?” asked Farnham.

“We've got four suspects barricaded behind that door,” said Arundel. “They've got hand grenades and God knows what else.”

Farnham peered at the door. “Heavy gauge steel, by the looks of it. Probably cement core. Take a twenty-pound directional charge to budge it.”

“Do it,” said Arundel.

Farnham signaled to one of his men, who ran out the door under cover. He then turned to Arundel. “We'll have to evacuate this room.”

Arundel nodded. “Right. Everyone out.” The men quickly filed out the splintered entrance, until only Arundel, Farnham, Kenyon, and Happy Harry remained.

“Let's go, mate,” said Harry. “Last one out buys the round.”

“Wait,” Kenyon said, turning to Farnham. “How long will it take to blow the door?”

“A few minutes,” said Farnham. “Maybe three, at most.”

“Shit,” said Kenyon. “That's too long. They're almost ready to transmit. Once Cyberworm is out, it will destroy everything.”

Arundel pointed at the imposing door. “There's no other way to reach the computers.”

“What about the dish on the roof?” asked Kenyon. “We take that out, we stop the transmission.

“Good point,” said Arundel. He turned toward the door. “We'll detail someone to take it out.”

“No time.” Kenyon grabbed Harry by the arm. “We'll go.”

Two soldiers wearing thick gloves returned carrying a black metal box.

Arundel glanced at his watch. “We blow the door in three minutes. Stay off this end of the building in case the roof collapses.”

“Piece a cake,” said Harry. He synchronized the timer on his watch.

Harry and Kenyon sprinted back up the stairs, stopping at the top. They scanned the upper floor.

“You see any way out to the roof?” asked Kenyon.

“Gotta be a trapdoor somewheres,” said Harry.

Using Harry's flashlight, the two men raced from room to room until they found a steel ladder bolted to the side of a wall.

They advanced cautiously until they were adjacent to the roof access. The small trapdoor was open, and they could see the landing lights of a jumbo jet blink as it passed above.