Chapter 36
The command room was silent except for the radio transmissions coming from the soldiers in the helicopters, their radios linked with the speakers so that their voices filled every pocket of air in the large room. Strong, Truro and Wallace stood on the floor in front of the screens as they watched the footage from the drone as it observed from a distance. Strong had his knuckles in-between his teeth and was biting down on them whilst Truro had his arms crossed over his chest and Wallace simply stood steadfast with her hands clasped behind her back. The telephone resting on the ledge behind them crackled as the line remained open with the prime minister, who was watching the same thing across London.
With the drone footage set to night-vision they could clearly see the helicopters on the far left of the screen and the many heat signatures that encompassed them which could only be Langdale, his team and the children, but on the opposite corner of the screen there was another large group of body heat signatures heading towards them which could only be insurgents. They appeared less than a hundred metres out.
The air in the room felt charged with electricity as they heard the helicopter pilots reporting over their radios, "Control, this Bird 1," The pilot digressed his call sign, "We have the package and are exfiltrating now."
Wallace and Truro physically relaxed beside Strong as they heard that the "package" - a.k.a. the prime ministers niece, Jasmine - and main target of the operation, was safely in the first helicopter which was lifting off and exfiltrating the danger zone. Their main objective had been successful but whilst Strong was happy that the young woman and the children were being airlifted out he was still anxious to hear about his team. He could see that the second helicopter was still on the ground until a few moments later when the pilot of that aircraft informed control that they too had indeed lifted off with full capacity on board. The tension in the room began to lessen as everyone heard the news as two out of the three helicopters were almost away to safety.
The voice of Bird 1's controller, a calm female voice, came over the speakers providing him co-ordinates and orders when the pilot replied they had a casualty on board and were requesting emergency medical attention upon landing. When he heard this Strong dropped his hand from his mouth and turned to look at Wallace and Truro.
Wallace saw his concern and after a moment of judgement lifted her hand from behind her back to reveal a black transmitter which she held to her lips and said, her voice echoing out around her over the speakers, "Bird 1, what is the identity of the casualty, over."
There was a moment of silence before the reply came that it was Marc Langdale and Strong clamped his jaw shut in anger.
"He's not looking too good ma'am. He's lost a lot of blood, over." The pilot added.
"Thank you," Patricia licked her lips, "Over." Her eyes conveyed sympathy to Strong but her lips would never say it as she turned around and spoke to someone behind her, "Make sure the medical team at the base are informed and standing by."
Strong saw this and nodded his head in thanks to Wallace before they all turned back to look at the screen. There was nothing they could do for him now and whilst they knew he was safely in the air the third and final helicopter wasn't.
"Why aren't they taking off?" Patricia asked as she raised the transmitter to her lips to ask Bird 3 for an update but they called it in first.
"Control this is Bird 3, everyone is accounted for and finally taking off. Over."
On a normal day the room would have erupted in a chorus of cheers and exhilaration as another mission was completed but not today. The attacks that had taken place over London were weighing heavily at the backs of everyone's minds and so instead of cheering there was a collective release of air around the room as everyone let go of the breath they had been holding.
Strong wanted to relax but he knew he couldn't, not fully, until his team were back on British soil and he could see them for himself.
"There," Wallace let out a deep sigh as she stepped back and turned to Strong and Truro with a steel-like gaze, "Now that that's dealt with-" She strutted past them towards the telephone from which the Prime Minister was listening and raised the receiver to her ear, "Mr. Prime Minister your niece is safely on board our aircraft and they will shortly be entering the safety zone. Do you wish for us to proceed?"
Strong and Truro shared a look as well as everyone else in the control room. People had stopped what they were doing and were watching apprehensively. They had not known about a second stage to their plans.
Wallace seemed to be listening intently, the corners of her lips pulled tightly inwards before she gave a nod of her head, "It shall be done, sir." She placed the receiver back in the cradle, walked back to the centre of the floor and turned to address everyone.
"As of one minute ago everyone in this room who doesn't need to be here must leave," She ordered them, "Please turn off all mobile devices and wait outside. You will be called back in shortly."
It took a few moments for her words to sink in but the commanding tone of her voice made everyone get to their feet and almost march out of the room single file without a second blink. Strong and Truro looked to Wallace for guidance on whether they ought to stay or leave when she answered the question for them.
"You two may stay but Commander everything from here on in never happened, are we clear?"
"Perfectly Ma'am," Strong found himself almost clamping his boots together and saluting before he caught himself, "Can I ask wha-"
"-No," Patricia interrupted, not turning from the room as she watched everyone leave, "You may not ask anything."
Strong felt as if he had been chided until he heard the distant buzz of the only door into the control room locking, leaving them the only three people in the room. Truro looked around at the empty control room in confusion- he couldn't remember the last time he had seen it this empty.
"This is in the strictest confidence from the Prime Minister," Patricia divulged to them now that they were alone, "And, as I said before, this never happened."
"Okay, but what is it?" Truro asked but Patricia just turned away and didn't reply. Truro and Strong exchanged a look of disconcertion. Wallace lifted the same black transmitter she had just been using a moment ago to her lips and spoke into it.
"Ghost1, what is your ETA, over?" Patricia asked as she arched an eyebrow, staring at the screen where the drone was still circling the compound. The speakers had been turned off so their conversation only came over the radio and only they could hear it.
Looking to the screen like Patricia was Strong saw the dozen or so heat signatures of the insurgents that were left were dotted about the screen. He assumed they were probably looking for Abbas's body to bury as well as scavenging their weapons. He wondered what these men would do now that Abbas was dead; would they disperse and fade out of the radical lifestyle but Strong's training told him differently. His training told him that there was already somebody beneath Abbas preparing to step up and take his place which was why they always tried to capture, if they could, and not to kill the leaders. They were no good to them dead, but alive they were a wealth of knowledge, knowing far more than a foot soldier that had just been recruited to blow themselves up. But all the knowledge Abbas had known was lost to them, and Strong did not mind that too much this time considering what Abbas had schemed and done. Turning his head a fraction to the left he could see the lone screen which had been set to the local news station where a repetitive stream of images and amateur footage of the crisis unfolding in London was being played and he found himself immediately standing straighter and trying to imagine being stood next to Jules when she shot the mastermind behind this. He wished he had been the one to pull the trigger.
A static reply over the radio drew Strong out of his reverie.
"Thirty seconds to drop zone," The monotone voice replied.
"Drop zone," Truro repeated as he stared at the screen and the dozens of small blips that indicated a living person. They were going to bomb the compound, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. They did not know how those people came to be at the compound, whether they had gone there willingly or if they had been forced from their homes. Before they could take extinguish life they had to go through a strict protocol to see whether it met the criteria which Truro did not think this met. Their teams and civilians were now out of the area, there was no immediate risk to their lives.
Patricia could see his uncertainty and turned to him, "This order comes straight from our Commander in Chief, Truro," Wallace said and Strong could hear the underlying tone of voice which almost dared him to challenge her or the Prime Minister.
"I understand ma'am but-"
"-You said it yourself, Truro," Patricia interrupted, her eyes darting to the screen as the thirty seconds counted down in her mind, "We shouldn't have even been there and if the local government finds out then our relations with them could take a drastic nose dive which is not what we, or their country, needs right now. This is better for everyone."
Truro might have wanted to say something but he didn't. The logical side of his mind was winning and in any case she was his superior and it had already been approved. There was nothing he could do except pray that this one deed benefited them in the long run.
"Ghost1," Patricia closed her eyes briefly before she opened them again, "You are clear to drop the package, over."
"Received and understood," The voice replied almost instantly, "Package away in three . . . two . . . one. Package away and two minutes to target. Ghost1 turning back, over."
The three of them stood in the empty room and watched the floor-to-ceiling screens anxiously. Truro stared at the swimmers watch on his wrist as he counted down the seconds. The wait was gut-wrenching until Truro started to count down from ten. He had only reached the number two before the screens all flashed white as the package landed on target and the compound was engulfed in the explosion, obliterating the tiny heat signatures that had been there a moment ago.
* * *
"Come on Marc, stay with me," Twitch said as he squeezed the saline bag above Marc's head, trying to push more fluid into his body but it wasn't the correct fluid he needed. Twitch could push all the saline solutions in the world but it wouldn't do him any good. Marc needed blood and soon as Twitch watched as his friend's head lolled to the side.
"You have to hang in there Marc," Twitch slapped Marc's cheek with his other hand as he tried to keep him conscious, "If you die then Jules will kill me. You don't want her to kill me do you?" He asked but Marc remained silent.
"How much longer!?" Twitch shouted over the sounds of the helicopter to the pilot in panic.
"Twenty minutes," The pilot replied.
Twitch could punch something as he heard that. "He doesn't have twenty minutes!" He exclaimed before he turned to look down at Marc. As a medic he hated not being able to help someone and having to rely on hope. In most cases Twitch knew that hope didn't do them any good, but that's all he had right now and he hated it.
"What does he need!?" Someone suddenly shouted from behind him and he turned around to see Ridgeway sat on the edge of his seat, his elbows resting on his knees.
Twitch wanted to smack him for asking such a stupid question but he refrained himself, Marc was more important, "A whole lot of blood!" He snapped.
"What type?" Ridgeway asked as Twitch had been about to turn back to Marc whose eyes were rolling into the back of his head and Twitch started to worry about his brain. Marc had lost a lot of blood which carried oxygen to the entire body to keep it functioning, including his brain and right now it was being starved of vital oxygen.
"He's AB positive," Twitch replied instantly. He knew each of their blood types off by heart just in case.
As the words left his mouth Ridgeway's eyes seemed to glint a little more brightly and Twitch did not like the way he had started to look at Marc when Ridgeway said, "I'm AB positive." He was looking at him as if he wasn't saving Marc's life but rather Marc was saving his, which Twitch could not quite believe nor understand.
Twitch knew enough from Carlos to understand that everything Ridgeway did was to benefit himself in some way or other but Twitch did not have a choice when he looked around the helicopter in dismay when he remembered that this wasn't a medical aircraft. "I don't have the equipment I need for a blood transfusion!" Twitch exclaim, kicking the seat with his boot in frustration.
"Third compartment on the right!" The pilot shouted back as he overheard them, "It should have everything you need. It might be a bit crude but it should do the job!"
Twitch scrambled up as best he could and reached for the compartment behind Wright, almost shoving her out of the way when she did not move fast enough. Yanking the heavy duty plastic case out Twitch fell back to the ground with it on his lap. Wrenching the lid open he stared in at the needles and plastic tubing. It was very crude indeed but it was exactly what he needed and might just save Marc's life.
Twitch squeezed his friend's shoulder as he started to set up the equipment, "Hang in there, Marc."
As he set up the equipment he looked up at Ridgeway and saw the way he was slowly rolling his sleeve up as if he had all the time in the world and he was doing Marc a favour which he would have to repay him for one day. Twitch hoped that Jules and Carlos would forgive him and that the price Ridgeway set wouldn't be too much one day.