Designated (Book 1): Designated Infected (34 page)

Baker nodded, 'I know, but your boys are still on leave
and the rest are all off on other operations. My boys are a man short
so no choice here; besides they know what they're doing, their Three
Para cousins are specialising in this sort of thing.

'So to give them a leg up, we slipped them into the mix
down at the Rock Barracks in Wood Bridge, so they should be fine'

Davies stayed mute on the subject. He knew there was no
way he could refute the training they had received, it was a first
class training centre and a place he knew all too well.

'R.R.T be advised there is a large civilian presence in
the centre room, and a uneven spread throughout the first and second
floors, infection reported on second and third floors, strain
unknown. Recommend detainment of all persons above first floor.
Ground and first floors to be dealt with as you see fit.'

Dreamers
Night Club

South
West London

They moved as one, their boots thumping on the dust and
grit littered concrete floor. Woodwrow motioned with a gloved hand
and watched as Williams and Brooks moved forwards weapons raised.

Dropping to one knee, they panned left and right. Their
eyes searched, pushing through the darkened gloom, of the underground
club. The thumping bass rattled the paper cups littering the floor as
the team moved onwards, Kerr looked down and watched as the cup
bounced in time to the pounding vibrations of the tower speakers only
a few feet away trapped behind the double swing doors.

'Right boys. We do this by the numbers, keep switched on
and watch your corners. Kerr, Clarkson, I want you two to sit tight
on the entrance here and watch for anything coming down those stairs.
If it ain't us or a civvie, drop it.'

They both nodded and hunkered down in the entry hall as
the rest of the team moved off up the stairs. The doors rattled,
thumping in their frame. Kerr and Clarkson exchanged a look of
tension filled confusion as the doors rattled once more. Their
weapons wavered slightly as they took aim at the slabs of steel-shod
wood before them.

The door began to swing open. Kerr and Clarkson rose to
standing, their aim set squarely on the door ahead of them. Swinging
open the smiling, flushed, blurry eyed face of a flaxen haired
twenty-something stumbled through, the cacophonous thumping of the
music rising to an almost painful level. She gazed about her for a
few seconds as she took stock of where she was, she scratched at her
head the small clutch purse in her hand ensnaring her hair as she did
so.

An indecipherable stream of alcohol slurred cursives
rolled off her tongue as she fought with the sequin encrusted
accessory. Both men watched her struggle as the doors slid to a close
silencing the din once more. The woman eventually extricated herself
from the offending purse and tottered away towards the exit and much
to the bewildered amazement of the two troopers not once did she even
hint upon noticing either one of them.

Kerr and Clarkson looked at one another in unison, a
semi subconscious grin formed on Kerr's face as he watched the blonde
woman pass them by completely oblivious to their presence.

'Top, we got a civvie coming out, appears intoxicated
and unharmed, she exited the dance floor on the ground level.'

Mobile
Operations Centre

The
Van

Baker sat perched on a half back chair, his booted feet
resting on the steel edge of the table bolted to the side of the
van's interior. Davies leant against the dividing partition, a string
of cables snaking its way past his head to the cluster of antennae on
the van's roof.

A cigarette hung limp from Davies' lip as he stared at
the grey steel sheet above him.

'What happened in Kabul?'

Baker's eyes remained closed as he leant back in his
chair. Sighing he scratched at his head as he laced his fingers
together and leant into the cradle they formed against the back of
his skull.

'A lot of things, and some of them not very good, others
worse than that.'

Davies smirked as he pulled the cigarette from his lips,
tapping the ash from the end he drew on it deeply. Blowing the smoke
from his lungs he watched as it circled and pooled against the
ceiling before being sucked up through the small gap around the
cables.

'Don't fuck about Derek, tell me what happened.'

Derek snorted derisively as he opened his eyes and
stared at the ceiling.

'Okay you asked for it. It was in '05, a year after my
indoctrination as the unit commander for S.A.U One, replacing
Pottergate, the former unit head and the original commander appointed
there by her Majesty herself. Anyway, as I was saying, Pottergate had
died the year before, with me as his second in command at the time, I
was jumped up to the head spot.

'Kabul was a shit storm waiting to happen, and the SFTG
had been chomping at the bit to get in there and wipe the floor with
the situation.

'Well, top got a whiff of the virus being in the area
and went over their heads and called us in instead. The same thing
had happened the year before, and believe me the SFTG were pissed.'

Davies smirked as he flicked the cigarette butt at the
bin in the far corner of the van.

'Heard about that, some of the lads in my old squad were
tasked to them.'

Baker nodded as he carried on.

'Anyway, the contingent passed over was a unit we had
all known pretty well run by a stuffed shirt Colonel named Ridgmont.
He was a mean fucker when he was my commander in the Marines, despite
that, he had always played it straight with the Intel, until he ended
getting his kid killed along with fifty other guys from Charlie
company. After that...well...' Baker shrugged, 'I heard that over the
course of the three years following my transfer to Broadhead, he went
off the deep end.

'Although no one would dare to cross him he gambled with
deployments and Risk Evals, ending up with some of his missions going
off a little less than perfectly.'

Davies nodded, and twirled his hand motioning for Baker
to carry on.

'We were doing a standard sweep and clear operation,
nothing fancy, and it was going pretty well until, that is, we found
ourselves in a situation that shall we say didn't match our Intel.'

Davies just shrugged, 'So when does it?'

Baker smirked at him, 'True, but this...well.'

Baker chuckled darkly as he dredged up the memory.

'We found out that Ridgmont and his team had received
classified intelligence files detailing drone, aerial surveillance
and the thermal scans from the C130's, none of which ever made it
into our hands.

'This is despite Ridgmont being under orders to share
all and any intelligence in his possession pertaining to our
operational area.

'Needless to say it fucked us right up, and well, I
found out recently he had done the same thing to us the year before
when we were called into Russia.'

Davies looked at Baker slightly askance.

'So let me get this straight, this prick has got the pip
because his team got passed over for a couple of jobs simply because
we are the more logical choice, and if I am getting the jist of this,
has caused the deaths of dozens of our own men by being a tight arsed
twat.'

Baker stifled his laughter as he listened.

'Eloquent as always John, but one thing you should know
is; the mission two weeks ago?'

Davies nodded, 'Yeah, the one that almost got me killed,
thanks for that by the way.'

Baker merely raised an eyebrow at Davies' flippant
remark. 'That was him!' Davies cursive filled tirade was drowned out
by the crackling hiss of the radio speakers as Kerr's voice boiled
out of it.

'Acknowledge, John get out there and secure the
civilian, oh and forget about Ridgmont, he'll be dealt with.'

With a muffled curse and grumble, Davies stepped from
the back of the van and made his way towards to the staggering and
drunk form of the female party-goer.

With a wave of his hand he called over one of the
waiting metropolitan police officers, 'Constable please escort this
woman out of the area and ensure she is screened by the Biological
Contamination Team.'

The man stared at Davies, the contempt swimming in his
eyes as he grasped the woman's elbow a little to tightly making her
whine at the pain dancing through her alcohol soaked mind.

'Oi, dick head!'

The officer spun his anger spilling from him as he
snarled at Davies.

'What do you want now?'

Davies smirked at the posturing show from the
twenty-something constable in front of him.

'A little courtesy would be nice. I know we're on your
“turf” but remember, you called us and secondly,' he
paused, willing himself not to smile, 'Do you really want to leave a
hand-print bruise on the young lady? You wouldn't want her lodging a
complaint when she's sober.'

The officer blanched slightly at the minor threat.

'Also, what is up with you, did I do something to you in
another life, piss in your cornflakes or something?'

The officer said nothing as he relaxed his grip and
walked away leading the young woman to the yellow and white van of
the B.C.T. unit currently on site.

'Fucking prick,' Davies muttered as he climbed back into
the matte-grey van. Baker looked up, 'What the hell got your panties
in a bunch?' Davies chucked a thumb in the direction of the
retreating police officer as he mumbled a reply. Shaking his head
Baker spoke, 'I know the plod in the area are a little pissed that we
were pulled in, they seem to resent not being able to sort this out
on their own; well the rank and file do at least. They seem to be
under the impression that it can be sorted out by their CO19
officers, although while they're highly skilled and capable, we both
know this is something out of their league and that's what's got
their knickers in a knot; so John when it comes to the kids kicking
up a fuss for us being in their sand box just let it slide.'

Davies chuckled and sat back down on the steel topped
stool opposite the radio unit.

38

Dreamers
Night Club

First
Floor

The first floor opened out before them into a maze of
interconnecting rooms and cubicles surrounding a central atrium like
dance floor.

Woodwrow moved forwards cautiously, the rhythmic thump
of the music below vibrating up through the Vibrams soles of his
combat boots. A short, sharp wave of his hand sent Williams and
Brooks left, silently scurrying like rats in a crouched run through
the twisted turns of the maze that stood before them.

A soft moaning gasp drew Woodwrow's attention. With a
silent caution only equalled by a cat stalking its prey, he
approached the corner.

His armoured back thunked into the cool hardened plastic
wall with little more than a hushed whisper of sound. With his rifle
pulled tight to his shoulder, he leant in and slowly peered round the
corner. His eyes scanned the gloomy interior of the four foot by six
foot cubicle, his eyes slowly adjusting to the semi-ambient light; a
soft muffled chuckle escaped his lips as he watched the scene inside.

The groaning increased as he watched their movements
intensify, clamping his lips tightly together to stifle his laughter,
he pulled away from the edge and motioned for Sheperd to follow him
on. As they moved, the groaning turned. A sense of unease was
settling in, tickling at him, making Woodwrow stop mid stride.
Turning on his heel, he motioned back to Sheperd as he set off moving
back to the corner of the cubicle.

Glancing in his eyes widened sharply as he watched the
scene unfold, his mouth moved forming the words he so longed to say,
but nothing, not even the whisper of a word ushered forth.

The long reflective strands of platinum hair spilled
over the girl's shoulders as he watched her head descend. To any
other person passing by the copulating pair would have seemed like
any other set of lovers in the throes of a passionate sex filled
embrace.

To his eyes though it was a far more deadly tableau, he
watched as the young man's eyes widened in shock, the glazed look of
lust wrung dry by the sheer terror that had gripped his mind as he
pounded at the woman's back with his clenched fists. His panicked
thrashing slowly growing weaker as the seconds ticked by. The
writhing buxom female astride him dove in once more, her mouth
closing on his collar bone as she bit deeply into the tender flesh
encasing his form. She tore her head free, fingers sliding over her
chin as she pushed the cascading river of blood into her slime caked
lips. She sucked at her fingers relishing the taste of her former
lover's blood. Her jaw churned the lump of flesh, pulverising the
limp chunk of human dermis as she drank in the sharp tang of sweat
coated skin. Woodwrow spun round the corner reaching outwards, his
hand entwining in the long silken strands of her hair; with a vicious
yank he wrenched her from her pedestal; a slick, wet, pop issued from
between her thighs as she was dragged free of her former lover's
member.