Every police station in the world has preset responses for various emergencies. This one had a folder labeled "Terrorism," and the superintendent pulled it out. even though he had the contents memorized, just to make sure he didn't forget anything. The top emergency number went to a desk in the Home Office, and he reported what little he knew to the senior civil servant there, adding that he was working to get more information and would report back.
The Home Office headquarters building, close to Buckingham Palace, housed the bureaucrats who had oversight over nearly every aspect of life in the British Isles. That included law enforcement, and in that building, too, was a procedures folder, which was pulled from its slot. I n this one was a new page and a new number.
"Four-two-double-three," Alice Foorgate said, on picking up the phone. This was the line used exclusively for important voice traffic.
"Mr. Clark, please."
"Yes. Wait, please."
"Mr. Clark, a call on double-three," she said into the intercom.
"This is John Clark," Rainbox Six said, lifting the receiver.
"This is Frederick Callaway at the Home Office. We have a possible emergency situation," the civil servant said.
"Okay, where is it?"
"Just up the road from you, I'm afraid, the Hereford hospital. The voice which called in identified itself as Patrick Casey. That is a codename that the PIRA use to designate their operations."
"Hereford Hospital?" John asked, his hand suddenly cold on the phone.
"That is correct."
"Hold for a second. I want to get one of my people on this line." John put his hand over the receiver. "Alice! Get Alistair on this one right now!"
"Yes, John?"
"Mr. Callaway, this is Alistair Stanley, my second-in command. Please repeat what you just told me."
He did so, then added, "The voice identified two hostages by name, a Nurse Clark, and a Dr. Chavez."
"Oh, shit," John breathed. "I'll get Peter's team moving, John," Stanley said.
"Right. Anything else. Mr. Callaway?"
"That is all we have now. The local police superintendent is attempting to gather more information at this time."
"Okay, thank you. You can reach me at this number if you need me." Clark replaced the receiver in its cradle. "Fuck," he said quietly.
His mind was racing. Whoever had scouted out Rainbow had done so for a reason, and those two names had not been an accident. This was a direct challenge to him and his people-and they were using his wife and daughter as a weapon. His next thought was that he would have to pass command over to A1 Stanley, and the next-that his wife and daughter were in mortal danger… and he was helpless.
"Christ," Major Peter Covington muttered over his phone. "Yes, sir. Let me get moving here." He stood and walked into his squad bay. "Attention, we have some business. Everyone get ready to move immediately."
Team-I's members stood and headed to their lockers. It didn't seem like a drill, but they handled it as though it were. Master Chief Mike Chin was the first to be suited up. He came to see his boss, who was just putting on his body armor.
"What gives, skipper?"
"PIRA, local hospital, holding Clark's and Ding's wives as hostages."
"What's that?" Chin asked, blinking his eyes hard.
"You heard me, Mike."
"Oh, shit. Okay." Chin went back into the squad bay. '`Saddle up, people, this ain't no fuckin' drill."
Malloy had just sprinted to his Night Hawk. Sergeant Nance was already there, pulling red-flagged safety pins from their plug points and holding them up for the pilot to confirm the count.
"Looking good, let's start 'er up, Lieutenant."
"Turning one," Harrison confirmed, as Sergeant Nance reboarded the aircraft and strapped on his move-around safety belt, then shifted to the left-side door to check the tail of the Night Hawk.
"Tail rotor is clear, Colonel."
Malloy acknowledged that information as he watched his engine instruments spooling up. Then he keyed his radio again. "Command, this is Bear, we are turnin' and burnin'. What do you want us to do, over?"
"Bear, this is Five," Stanley's voice came back, to Malloy's surprise. "Lift off and orbit the local hospital. That is the site of the current incident."
"Say again, Five, over."
"Bear, we have subjects holding the local hospital. They are holding Mrs. Clark and Mrs. Chavez as hostages. They've identified both of them by name. Your orders are to lift off and orbit the hospital."
"Roger, copy that. Bear is lifting off now." His left hand pulled the collective, climbing the Sikorsky into the sky.
"Did I hear that right, Colonel?" Harrison asked.
"You must have. Fuck," the Marine observed. Somebody was grabbing the tiger by the balls, Malloy thought. He looked down to see a pair of trucks speeding off the base, heading in the same direction as he. That would be Covington and Team-1, he thought. With a little more reflection, he took the Night Hawk to four thousand feet, called the local air-traffic-control center to tell them what he was doing, and got a transponder code so that they could track him properly.
