Miri wears the same as them. Sinister in black. Her greying blonde hair scraped back into a ponytail. The lines on her face that could be scars show livid and deep. Her cold grey eyes are hard. She pushes the pistol into the holster and hefts the assault rifle to check and make ready.
The doctor bustles back and forth. Caught up in the energy. One of the rooms in his section is ready with an operating table and side units full of equipment. He cleaned it last night. He cleaned it this morning. He’ll clean it again when they deploy. He wears a white lab coat. A stethoscope hangs round his neck. Surgical scrubs worn underneath.
Bertie is on the island with strict instructions not to bloody move. Do not bloody move. Do not come to the bunker. Stay there. Do you understand? What did I just tell you? Say it back to me. The doctor made sure he understood. They did consider holding him in the bunker but didn’t trust him to not stroll out and wave at the nice soldiers.
Ria hides the fear inside and watches them getting ready with that dread growing inside. She has hardly slept. She looks like shit. Bags under her eyes, her face drawn and tired.
‘Fucking thing,’ Ben mutters, hefting the Barrett to make it ready. Harry pulls two missile launchers on to his back. Emily takes one. Ben straps an assault rifle to his. Everyone loaded with kit, but this is how they have trained and drilled. What they do now is nothing different to what they have done many times.
‘Harry,’ Safa groans, glaring at his boots. ‘You had the new ones,’ she adds, shaking her head.
Ben looks round to see him in his 1943 boots. Miri hates them. She told him not to wear them. He is Harry. He will wear what he bloody wants. Emily grins at him. Loving him for it.
‘I’m ready,’ Safa says, pushing the magazine in her assault rifle and yanking the bolt back. ‘Shithead?’
‘I take it that’s me,’ Emily says. ‘I’m ready.’
‘Beardy?’
‘When you’ve been in a war,’ he rumbles, earning a round of grins.
‘Ben?’
‘Yep.’
‘Good,’ she says, the woman in charge, the team leader. Ben thinks about last night and can’t help but smile. She smiles too. Sensing the thoughts before looking round. ‘We’ve drilled for this. We’ve gone at it from every side. No matter what happens, we have planned for it. They won’t have anywhere near the opposition Ria threw at us. If anything, the whole fucking thing might be an anti-climax. Harry, remember to shout if that thing jams up. Ben, be ready to cover Harry if it jams.’
‘Got it,’ Ben says.
‘That’s it then,’ Safa says. ‘Miri? Anything from you?’
‘Negative. Stick to the plan, but stay fluid.’
‘Fuck it then,’ Safa says. ‘We’re ready for this. We’re better than they are. We’re the good guys. We’re going in hot, but we’re going in ready. On me.’
She takes the lead. She is Safa. She always takes the lead.
‘Good luck,’ the doctor booms.
‘Good luck,’ Ria calls out, her voice sounding flat and strained.
Through the doors to the portal room. Miri takes the tablet as final kit checks are done.
‘Can we eat cheese and crackers tonight?’ Emily asks, trained and experienced, but still feeling that last-minute burst of tension.
‘Aye,’ Harry says softly, reassuringly as deep and calm as ever. ‘Watch a holo.’
She nods. ‘Sounds good.’
He holds the Browning one-handed and rests an enormous hand on her shoulder, bringing an instant calm to her mind. No words needed.
‘Ready?’ Miri asks, her thumb hovering over the pre-set destination on the screen.
Ben stiffens. Gripping the heavy sniper rifle. Safa looks at Emily, at Harry, at Ben, then moves to stand in front of the gap between the two poles. She flicks the safety off and brings her rifle up ready and aimed. ‘On three,’ she says to Miri. ‘One . . . two . . .’ Miri presses the screen. The Blue comes on instant and live. ‘Three.’
Safa goes first. Walking through to an instant change in air, in temperature, in light, in environment. Her assault rifle up and aimed. The grass and trees are so different to the clearing they drilled in, but the sound effects created by Ria match the noise of the rotor blades from choppers thudding overhead and the gunshots in the distance. She takes it all in with a sweep round before sticking her hand back through the Blue with a thumbs-up.
Emily goes through. A look round. A scan of all sides. The choppers overhead. The heli she came in on with Alpha and the others. The two gunships. The time in the bunker melts away. It’s as if she was here yesterday.
‘Clear,’ Emily snaps. ‘Move out.’
Safa paces a few strides. Trees blot the view ahead. The foliage is dense. She takes a knee, holding position.
Harry comes through. The Browning gripped and ready.
‘Harry clear,’ Emily reports.
Emily’s hand goes in. Ben comes out. His eyes showing the split second of adjustment to the new environment. A scan round to a terrain so different to the clearing they drilled in. A glimpse of the house in the distance. Trees all round them. A canopy overhead covering the Blue from the satellite they know is monitoring the area.
‘PEOPLE IN THE HOUSE . . . LIE DOWN WITH YOUR ARMS OUT . . . PEOPLE IN THE HOUSE . . . LIE DOWN WITH YOUR ARMS OUT . . .’
The voice is huge and one they all remember. A surreal second. Emily was on the other side when they first heard it. The pilot in the helicopter repeats the commands. Safa visualises the soldiers running for the house. Emily visualises the agents and operatives inside and herself with the others on the landing.
Miri steps out and takes it all in without a flicker showing on her face.
‘PEOPLE IN THE HOUSE . . . LIE DOWN WITH YOUR ARMS OUT . . .’
‘On me,’ Safa calls out, waving a hand forward. She takes point with Emily. Rifles up and aimed. Safa checks her watch. Through the undergrowth they go. Feet lifting to avoid snagging on tree roots and fallen branches. Miri waits by the Blue. Her face a mask as she watches her small team deploy towards Cavendish Manor.
Remember. Mother deploys the soldiers as Bravo goes into the room. That’s the marker. You have to wait for the soldiers to go in.
Inside the house, bodies lie dead and injured. The battle is underway. Alpha glares over the bannister. Tango Two and the others with him. Pistols firing from the drawing room. Agents killed. A flash-bang goes in. Gunshots. Screams. Red laser sights shining. The noise is immense. The booming voice of the amplified helicopter pilot. The rotor blades of the gunships. Chaos unfolding.
‘Agent down . . .’
‘Fall back, fall back . . .’
‘DO NOT FALL BACK . . . Bravo, get down and lead them through . . .’ Alpha orders.
‘Be happy to oblige,’ Bravo mutters. ‘Anyone with a flash-bang can throw it in that room now.’
Emily worked them through it. Guiding them to what was happening on her side while they were taking cover on the servants’ stairs. They push on through the trees, working towards the house. Knowing they deployed further back from the soldiers forming the ring of steel.