CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
MI5 Headquarters, Home Office
Thames House
12 Millbank
Westminster, London
The team was soon in black tactical gear, strapping on Kevlar vests and securing M4 assault rifles to their backs.
Once Mike was fully armed, she tucked a pair of sticky gloves in her tactical belt, then stashed both a small first aid pack and three extra thirty-round magazines into her bag. No one knew what they were jumping into, so they were prepared for everything. She felt focused, calm, adrenaline on a low simmer. She was saving the big burst of energy for the jump. She was ready to get Isabella back. Mike prayed she was still alive.
Once everyone was geared up, they gathered around Adam for a briefing.
“I found the plans from Ardelean’s last renovation. The lab is on the third floor. There’s an attic that opens onto the roof on the fourth. If that’s where the falcons flew from, I suppose it’s the aviary. There is an entire suite of rooms on the second floor, I can’t tell if it’s a guest suite, or this is where the mythical brother lives. Maybe servants, too, it’s roomy. The first floor is reception, kitchen, dining room, and several large, open spaces, living room, den, I suppose. The backyard opens to a pool and gardens. The path down to the river comes off the east side of the house.”
Gareth picked it up. “Should something happen, bolt for the river. We’ll have Zodiacs waiting. Air reconnaissance will be monitoring for drones and those birds, too. They aren’t back yet. The sky door is still open. The chopper is at Battersea heliport and ready when you are. Faster than taking you out to Northolt. We’re going to put you in a Gazelle—it’s quieter, less chance of being spotted too early. They’ve plotted a path down the H4 to the house that keeps them in the London heli lanes but allows for a last-second deviation out toward Twickenham. Heathrow ATC has been notified we’re doing a training exercise.”
Nicholas said, “Too bad it’s dark. Flying a helicopter down the Thames can be quite romantic.”
Mike rolled her eyes. “You have a bandage over a gunshot wound in your side and you’re thinking about romance? Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s go do it.”
Nicholas and Gareth burst out laughing.
“I meant, let’s go get Isabella, you idiots.”
Adam called out, “I’ve sent the schematics to your comms. You’ll be able to see what’s what on your wrist cams, and I’ll be here with Ian—we’ll be in your ears. Good luck.”
The Gazelle was cramped compared to other choppers she’d been in. Only the two pilots and Mike, Nicholas, and Gareth could fit. But the benefit was the Gazelle was indeed substantially quieter, as advertised.
Since they were wearing helmets with headphones, she could hear the pilots’ technical talk as they lifted off and started their run down the Thames. She tuned them out, tuned in her father’s deep, calm voice. You know what you’re doing, you’re ready to move. Now make sure you’re ready mentally. Focus, Mike, make sure you’re focused. She didn’t tune in what her mother, the Gorgeous Rebecca, would say.
The pilot said in their ears, “Ten minutes to drop,” and Gareth gave them a thumbs-up. They were approaching their target fast, the river a shining ribbon in the darkness below them.
Mike said, “I can’t get my bearings. I barely know the city in the daylight. At night, from the air, I’m lost.”
Gareth said, “We’re over the botanical gardens.”
Nicholas said, “Let’s run through once more. Mike will go first and cover me as I come down with the explosives. We’ll set them on the window hinges and blow them inward, then rope in. The chopper will bank back to the river and be waiting for our call to get us out, hopefully with Isabella.”
Gareth said, “It sounds so easy when you lay it out like that.”
“It’s exactly how things will go. Trust me.”
The pilot said, “Three minutes to jump.” The copilot said, “Five minutes to explosives, if you please.”
“Copy that,” Nicholas said, and Mike heard the banked excitement in his voice. He was even a bigger danger junkie than she was. She checked her weapon once more, tightened the straps of her Kevlar vest, then pulled on her gloves.
The pilot said, “One minute. Take your positions.”
Nicholas opened the door, and the cool night air rushed into the cabin.
Mike felt the helicopter slow, then hover. She looked down to see the roof glowing white below her. She grabbed the thick black coil, got a good grip thanks to the sticky gloves. She thought of her father, and smiled. All set, Dad.
“Ready,” the pilot said. She leaned toward the door. Gareth patted her arm and said, “Luck.”
The pilot said, “First jumper, fast-rope on my mark—three, two, one—jump jump jump.”
Mike went straight down and landed lightly on the roof. She felt the rope tug, saw Nicholas come out the door behind her, fast. She pulled the weapon off her back and began scanning for trouble. With no warning, the helicopter lurched to the right, hard, its nose dipping, the rotors twisting counterclockwise, pushing for air.
Nicholas whipped past her head, only one hand on the wildly swinging rope, yelling, “Move, move, move!”
The chopper was burning, red and orange flames shooting into the sky above her. She heard the boom, realized it was about to land on her.
Everything happened in an instant—Nicholas’s horrified face, Mike sprinting hard across the roof, the helicopter tail lashing wildly around toward her. She couldn’t get away, so she went down flat on the roof, hands over her head, and prayed. She felt the harsh wind as the tail rotor passed only a few feet above her and smashed into the concrete ramparts on the roof. She smelled fuel, looked up to see the helicopter tip over the edge, the metal screaming, and fall, upside down, out of sight.
The fire on the roof was burning fast and hot. Please, the pilots got out, please. Wait, where is Nicholas?