Blackout

THIRTY ONE

Six weeks later, on a bright and sunny May morning, Archer stepped out from a black taxi outside the Armed Response Unit’s headquarters. Dressed in a simple white-t-shirt and blue jeans, his blond hair hung down over a white rectangular plaster on the upper left of his forehead, the strap of a black holdall bag looped over his shoulder. He paid the fare and thanked the driver, then turned and looked up at the newly refurbished building in front of him as the taxi moved off towards the exit behind him. From where he was standing, it looked like all the repair work was almost complete.

Since that day of chaos, funerals for all ten men who had died that day had taken place on both sides of the Atlantic. The entire Unit had gone to Clark's service at a church not far away, and Cobb had flown to Virginia the next morning to attend the service for Ryan Jackson. Porter went with him and insisted on paying out of his own pocket for the flight. Jackson had died in the line of duty, so there was an anonymous small star now on the wall for him inside the CIA's headquarters. Porter had told the rest of the team of Jackson's revelation as he died, that he was Jason Carver's cousin and of the immense guilt he had felt at what his cousin had done. It explained his behaviour and the look on his face Archer had noticed when Fletcher had told them what happened that night. As he lay dying, apparently he’d told Porter and Fox that he’d spent his whole life trying to make up for what his cousin did that night in Kosovo.

The star on the wall inside the CIA’s headquarters was forever proof that he had.

The medical team who had arrived at Hawkings Hall that night were surprised and somewhat taken aback to find a critically wounded police officer and five dead bodies of anonymous men all covered in strange and foreign tattoos, dotted around the property. Four had been shot in the head, and one had been suffocated outside in the mud. They removed the bodies from the site under Cobb’s orders, without asking too many questions, and the corpses were all disposed of, no record of their existence or any of the events that had happened that night finding its way onto any official report. Fox was rushed to the hospital by helicopter, the medical team already working on him on the way there. Later that night, news came in that he was going to be OK. The bullet had missed his femoral artery by a hair. If it had hit, he would have bled to death right there and then.

Eleanor Cobb's parents had returned to their family home from their holiday in Verona to find the floors freshly cleaned and some new panes of glass in the drawing room windows as well as some new mahogany panels on the walls both down and upstairs. They thanked her for the surprise maintenance, and even though her father sensed something else was afoot he chose not to pry or ask questions. The two boys were also recovering well from the ordeal. Rather than be traumatised, the youngest was already telling Cobb that he wanted to apply for his father's police unit when he was eighteen.

Kate Adams was coming to terms with everything that she and her boy had endured, including the death of her husband which she hadn’t been aware of until someone broke it to her gently at the ARU’s headquarters. She was a tough woman, made of similar mettle as that of her late husband, but the boy was still young, only six, and it was going to take a long time for him to recover, hopefully without any long-term damage. Nevertheless the two of them were still alive. On a day where countless innocent people had died, that was the most important thing.

Pulling open the front door, Archer walked into the ARU’s headquarters and nodded to the new officer on the front desk, a man he didn't know. He signed the form, showed his ID and passed through the barrier as it buzzed. He walked down the repaired corridor all the way to the locker room on the right. Walking inside and swinging a bag from over his shoulder, Archer opened his locker and took out a couple of spare t-shirts, some spare trousers and some other items, tucking them into the bag. He turned and took a good look at the room. He nodded, then walked out, heading along the corridor and out the door, turning right and heading up to the second floor.

The ARU's headquarters had been the victim of two separate gunfights in that twenty four hour period, and much of the building had been damaged by the rounds. Despite the cost, Cobb had been given the go ahead from the top to revamp the entire building. Maintenance crews had started work the following day, repairing and reinforcing the downstairs of the building, with a separate team coming in and replacing the glass of Cobb's office with fresh, equally bulletproof panes. A paint team had recoated the walls, a floor team re-carpeting the rooms, removing any outward signs that the day of terror had ever happened.

Arriving at the tech team's centre, Archer saw them working away, fingers tapping on keys, Nikki with her back to him taking charge of them all. She’d recovered well from that day, both physically and mentally, and they were all proud of her. It had even seemed to have made her more determined in her work, and they had all noticed she was attacking each day with a renewed vigour. Looking at her, Archer guessed the saying was true.

Whatever doesn’t kill you definitely makes you stronger.

He turned right and headed for the door to Cobb's office. The glass was looking good as new, and through the crystal-clear panes he saw his boss sitting there behind his desk, sipping on a cup of coffee. Archer knocked on the door and Cobb nodded. The young officer entered, closing the door behind him.

'Morning, sir.'

'Morning. How's the face?'

'It'll be OK. I just came from the doctor. He said it'll heal up well. Only a faint scar under my hairline, which my hair should cover anyway.'

'Good.'

Archer grinned. 'He asked me the cause of injury and I told him torture. Don’t think he knew if I was joking or not.'

Cobb smiled.

There was a pause.

Archer stood there, his holdall in his hand. Cobb took a drink of coffee and looked at him.

'So this is it then,' he said.

Archer nodded.

'Yes, sir. I guess so.'

'You're sure this is what you want?'

'Yes, sir. I'm sure.'

There was a pause. Cobb saw the look on Archer's face.

'Don't feel bad, son. I understand. Truth be told, I've seen it on your face ever since you got back last summer. You've got itchy feet.'

'It's not this place,' Archer explained. 'I love it here, sir. I love the team, everyone here. Being under your leadership. But I'm half American. I can't deny that. That's my home too. I want to work there whilst I’m still young. I have to. Right now feels like the right time.'

Pause.

Cobb nodded.

'You know that I'll always have a spot for you here, no matter what,' his boss said. 'All you need to do is pick up the phone. I mean it. Any time of day, month or year. You've earned that with everything you've done, everything you did for me and my family and the rest of the men.'

He nodded.

'I knew the moment you walked in for interview during selection that you were special. And you've outdone every expectation I ever had for you. You've done some amazing work here, Archer. I've watched you grow up, literally, in front of my eyes these past two years.'

'Thank you, sir.'

'Are you sure I can't convince you to stay?'

Archer smiled.

'I'll be back someday. If you'll take me, of course.'

'You know I will. I look forward to it.'

Pause. Archer stood there, his bag in his hand, ready to go.

'So where next?' Cobb asked.

Archer smiled. 'Honestly?'

'As always.'

'I was thinking New York City. I was thinking the NYPD.'

'That sounds perfect. I know some people over there. I'll provide my recommendation and see if we can get things moving for you. You’ll have to retrain of course, but that should be a breeze for you.'

'Yes, sir. Thank you.'

There was a pause. Then Cobb rose from his chair and walked round his desk and offered his hand. Archer shook it.

‘Good luck, Arch.’

Archer nodded. Then he turned and walked out of the freshly repaired office.

He walked into the briefing room and saw his team-mates there, all of them save for Fox and Chalky. He said goodbye to them all one by one, embracing and shaking hands, then turned and headed downstairs to the exit. By the stairs, he saw Nikki was waiting for him. He walked forward and stood there in front of her, both of them looking at each other silently. Then Nikki moved forward and hugged him.

‘Thank you,’ she said, quietly, into his ear.

After a few moments they parted and she wiped tears from her eyes.

‘Shit. This is embarrassing,’ she said.

‘It’s OK. I have this effect on most women,’ he joked. She laughed, then her smile faded and she looked at him.

‘Come back soon, you hear?’

‘I will.’

He smiled and reached forward, taking her hand and squeezing it. Then he released it and headed down the stairs towards the lower floor and the exit.

He took a last look down the corridor, then pushed open the main door.

And ran into Chalky, leaning against the wall outside.

He was standing there alone in the morning daylight, dressed in jeans and a navy blue polo shirt.

'There you are,’ Archer said. ‘Thought I'd missed you,'

Chalky shook his head and kicked off the wall, standing there beside his best friend. There was a long silence, the distant sounds of early morning London filling the air. Chalky broke it.

'So you're really leaving?'

Archer nodded. 'Yeah. Afraid so.'

'When will you be back?'

'I don't know. But guess I'll have to come back sometime soon. You need someone here to keep you out of trouble.'

Chalky grinned.

'Tell you what, I think that guy with the knife did you a favour, Arch,’ he joked. ‘I always told you your face needed some work done to it.'

There was a pause as Archer smiled.

Then the two best friends stepped forward and embraced. They parted, stepping back, and shook hands.

‘And thanks,’ Chalky said.

‘For what?’

‘For everything.’

Pause.

'I'd better head up. Don't want to piss off Cobb or Porter or I’ll be joining you,' Chalky said.

He nodded.

‘Take care, Arch.'

'You too.'

Archer nodded as his best friend turned and headed into the building, moving up the stairs and disappearing out of sight. Slinging his holdall back over his shoulder, Archer took one last look at the police station, the Armed Response Unit, his home for over two years. He smiled and took a deep breath of fresh air. He felt good.

Ready.

Excited.

Then he turned on his heel and started walking through the parking lot towards the exit. Suddenly, he heard a voice call after him.

'Your girl never did meet someone else, did she?'

He turned and saw Chalky back at the front door.

Archer looked at him for a moment.

He grinned.

Chalky shook his head.

‘You always were a bad liar,’ he called. ‘Ask her if she has any hot friends.’

Archer smiled and waved. Then he turned and walked across the parking lot. He turned right down the street, and headed off into the morning London sunlight.

His bag slung over his shoulder and his eyes looking straight ahead.



THE END