“Cops,” Blue Dress said. With slow unexaggerated movements she opened her handbag, retrieving and showing the soldiers her badge.
Shaking his head in confusion, Jimmy opened his mouth, but no words came.
“Bent cops. Why else would the police do something like this?” Johnny said.
“Read about it in tomorrow’s paper,” Blue Dress said. “Now, you gonna bring us in or what?”
“Oh yeah,” Jimmy said. “Captain’ll want to have words with you two.”
“No,” Johnny said. “Their cronies are all over the city. If we want to get out of here without being” – he paused to search for the right word – “arrested, or worse, we can’t be keeping an eye on these two.”
“Uh-huh,” Jimmy said. “Then I guess we’ll have to get rid of ’em.” He raised his gun a little more, narrowing his gaze at Green Dress.
“What,” she said widening her eyes and raising her arms higher, “you– you– you– just gonna kill us?”
“No,” Jimmy said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “we’re not going to kill you. Maybe we should though. You sure looked like you was going to kill me a minute ago. Still, me mum brought me up never to shoot a girl. Now,” he said, pointing down the last street they had patrolled, “go down to the end of that street and disappear. Should go without saying, but don’t follow us.”
The girls started walking in the indicated direction.
Jimmy shot a few rounds into the ground near the girls’ feet. “Fast!”
The two women did as instructed, and were soon at the end of the street, disappearing around a corner.
“I know you probably did the right thing,” Johnny said. “I guess. Maybe. But it might ’a been better to shoot ’em. I mean, what if they bring some troops – or whatever you call cop soldiers – to catch up with us?”
“Then we’d better get moving.”
5 - Strike
“Please tell me those are firecrackers we can hear in the city centre!”
“I wish I could,” Jimmy said to the flustered driver of the Warrior armoured personnel carrier. “There’s a full-on uprising goin’ on over there.”
The Warrior, its dull grey paint absorbing much of the night-time street lighting’s amber glow, was at rest in the lay-by of the York ring road, while Jimmy, Johnny, the driver, and the gunner stood outside of it. The occasional car sped past on its way into, out of, or around the city.
“No surprise you haven’t been told nothin’. There’s no signal for mobiles. The police must’a disabled the masts, and it’s only been a–”
“Did you say,” the gunner said, incredulous, “the police?”
“Look, forget about that. Can you put us in touch with the CO?” Jimmy spoke quickly, with impatience.
The driver took out his mobile phone.
“What did I just tell you about the masts?” Jimmy said.
“Oh yeah,” the driver said. He tried the digital two-way radio that was attached to his shoulder. “Greyhound to Trap One, Greyhound to Trap One, do you read me?”
When a voice came back through the radio, it was so mixed with interference and compression artefacts as to be incomprehensible.
“Someone’s jamming the radios, too,” the gunner said. “I can try the satellite link, but it’ll take a minute to align the dish.”
Jimmy shooed him away. “Well what are you waitin’ for?”
The gunner turned and climbed into the Warrior by its open rear door.
Jimmy, Johnny, and the driver continued discussing the situation, but before the minute had elapsed the Commander’s vehicle drove up fast, breaking hard to a sliding halt no more than a metre away from the men.
The three soldiers stood to attention as the Commander bounded out of his vehicle. “At ease lads. Don’t have much to tell you except that fighting’s broken out in the city – led by the police it seems. None of our foot patrols in the city have–” He looked at Jimmy and Johnny, suddenly registering them and their patrol gear. “Oh. You lads are the first. You know what’s going on over there?” The Commander pointed in the direction of the city centre.
“Yes sir,” Jimmy replied.
“Well, approximately,” Johnny said.
“All right gents,” the Commander said, looking at Jimmy and Johnny, “get in the car. Tell me everything you know. Full debrief.”
The two foot-soldiers complied.
The Commander turned to go back to his car, throwing his words over his shoulder to the waiting Warrior crew. “Keep trying any frequencies you can, as well as the satellite link.”
“Got it!” The gunner’s voice shouted from inside the APC while the roof mounted satellite dish, no bigger than a serving bowl, stopped moving and locked on.
“Good men. I’ll see you again as soon as I’ve circled the ring road and updated the rest of our Warrior teams. And stop traffic. We’ve got to blockade the city.”
The Commander sat down at the driver’s seat of his car and shut the door even as the APC driver was saluting.
Tyres squealing, the Commander’s car launched out of the lay-by and into traffic.
***
“We seem to be having a bit of trouble with the union,” General Montgomery said.
“I’ve never liked the unions much. Which one is it?” The King’s features were drawn, his eyebrows inclined, lips tight, worry lines spreading across his forehead, as he and General Montgomery walked along the corridor at Buckingham Palace. Behind them followed an entourage of several suited men and women – including Blair Lindsey, who was taking notes even as he kept up with the King’s brisk pace – and two armed soldiers. The King held a sheaf of papers in his hand to which his eyes shifted as he divided his attention between them and the General.
“AS-ONE,” Montgomery said. “The police union.”
“Of course. They’re the worst. Nevertheless, I am surprised they’ve moved so soon.”
“Are you meaning to imply,” the General said, blinking with surprise, “that you were expecting this?”
“I’ve had inklings,” the King said. “But now they’ve made their move, keep a close eye on your Captain Phillips.”
“Phillips? He’s one of my best men! I trust him implicitly.”
Without altering his gait, the King looked his General in the eye. “That is why he’s dangerous.”
Montgomery remained silent a moment, digesting this. “Very well. Thank you for the warning, Your Majesty. Now, with your permission, I must get to York. The RAF are laying on a chopper for me to Biggin Hill, and a plane from there.”
“You have my permission, Stewart. Go.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Montgomery turned down a branching corridor and, once he was out of the King’s sight, broke into a run.
***
Privates Finch and Fox kept their Warrior moving at a steady pace behind a Chieftan tank which formed a part of the offensive convoy. They left the ring road and joined one of the main arteries into the city of York, now devoid of civilian traffic, though there were numerous parked cars on the kerbs.
The convoy moved along at a brisk pace, and Fox noted their progress through the Warrior’s reinforced windscreen. They watched as the tank, finding the road too narrow at one point, bulldozed a parked car out of the way.
“Somebody’s not gonna be a happy motorist,” Fox said, hearing the squeal of the trashed car’s alarm system. “I think it was parked illegally anyway.”
The unintelligible radio chatter continued with increased fervour as the convoy ground to a halt. Having stopped the armoured vehicle, Finch applied the handbrake. “What’s going on now?”
Fox shrugged. “You’re asking the wrong guy.”
There was a rap on the window. Finch turned to see a Colonel pointing toward the back of the vehicle. He acknowledged the officer with a hand signal and got up, moving toward the rear of the vehicle where he operated a control. The hydraulic ram lifted the solid steel rear gate, revealing the Colon
el, General Montgomery, and three other officers, all dressed in combat fatigues, waiting to gain entry.
Finch stood to attention and saluted in the Warrior’s restricted vertical space, his helmet touching the ceiling.
General Montgomery returned the salute. “Permission to come aboard, private?”
Finch’s mouth dropped. “Er… granted, sir. But wouldn’t the General be more comfortable in his own vehicle?”
“Perhaps the General would,” Montgomery said, “but here I am. So allow me the honour of serving alongside you and making this my mobile HQ for the time being.”
“Yes sir!”
“Good. These are Lieutenant McGougan, Major Weldon, and Colonel Broadley.” The General climbed aboard. The seating in the warrior took the form of two padded benches arranged along the sides of the vehicle so that the men sitting on either bench would be facing one another.
The three officers, plus privates Jimmy Bennett and Johnny Spragg, entered after the General, arranging themselves. Three men sat on each bench. Finch climbed past the seated officers and operated the door control, closing it. “Excuse me, sirs,” he said as he attempted to avoid tripping over anyone’s feet and resumed his seat next to the driver.
“Now sir,” Lieutenant McGougan said, “I know you like to have your nose to the grindstone and all that, but are you sure you shouldn’t be on higher ground, somewhere a bit safer?”
Major Weldon nodded his agreement.
“I agree too, sir,” Colonel Broadley said, nodding. “My men and I can handle things here. The day a rabble formed from the policemen’s union can out-fight a battalion of British soldiers is the day I retire.”
“I agree with those sentiments, Harve,” Montgomery said. “Now, officially, we’re not here. Especially me. But for the moment I need to be on the ground with the men. A new situation is developing here, one that Britain hasn’t faced for hundreds of years, and I need to be here to get a first-hand feel of it. But this is your show, Harve. Consider me an observer, and a resource if you need one.”
“I understand, sir,” Colonel Broadley said. “I’m only concerned for your safety. Shots have already been fired – lots of them. If you want to see firsthand what’s going on, you could have watched it on your private feed at your HQ. We have cameras mounted on every tank, APC, and even many of the soldiers’ helmets. You could have seen everything as it developed, and with a better view than you’ll get where you are now. The same goes for you Lieutenant, and you Major.”
“Don’t tell an old soldier he can get a better view of the battlefield from his easy chair. True, I could have stayed perfectly safe at the Palace where nothing can touch me, but battle isn’t just something you see. It’s something you feel, as you know very well. In any case, you couldn’t have got those feeds to me; communications blackout, remember?”
The Warrior’s engine began working loudly again as the convoy resumed moving. “Er… General, sir,” Jimmy said, “is your HQ really at the Palace? Buckingham Palace? You work with His Majesty, don’t you? What’s he like?”
The General smiled. “King Alfred is a great man. He’s much wiser than most people give him credit for.”
“I wish I could meet him,” Jimmy said. “My mum says I met him once when I was a baby.”
“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” the General said, “and someday you probably will.”
“With respect sirs,” Broadley said, “but we’ll be in the thick of it soon. Is there any more information we need from these lads?” He indicated Jimmy and Johnny.
“I think we’ve told you everything we know.” Jimmy said.
“Those policewomen you dealt with didn’t volunteer anything, did they?” Montgomery asked.
“No,” Jimmy said, “and those two birds… women… insurgents… only really told us that the police have taken control of the city.”
“The police could just be trying to make a statement, I suppose,” the General said, “but it’d be a costly one. In any case, I believe their eventual goal is to remove the King from power. This union have always been an anti-royalist lot, at least under the surface, and now they’re showing their true colours.”
A sound and sensation of powerful thumps came from the wall of the Warrior. Everyone noticed it.
“There. See what I mean?” The officers stood to get views of the outside, either through the periscopic view-ports in the walls or the closed-circuit monitor screens near the front. “Now where did that firing come from?”
Fox slammed on the brakes, looking around excitedly. “I think it came from outside, sir!”
Everyone smiled, except Fox.
“Thank you, private,” Colonel Broadley said, “but we have been in battle before.”
“Sorry sir. I haven’t sir.” Fox took deep and fast breaths.
“You’ll get used to it soon enough, lad,” the General said. “Carry on, Harve. I’m not here. Do what you have to do.”
“Sir!” The Colonel looked at Jimmy and Johnny. “Lads, get that door open!”
The soldiers obeyed.
“Right, on me!” The three men stepped out into the night air. Colonel Broadley looked at the pockmarks on the side of the Warrior, and then up to the top of the building opposite.
Further along the road, within sight and directly in their path was Bootham Bar, one of the towers connecting the segments of the city wall, dating back to mediaeval times, and an irreplaceable component of the city’s World Heritage status.
They were flanked on the left with a row of terraced houses, dating from somewhere between Victorian and modern times, containing businesses and other institutions. Each building was three to five storeys high, with differing widths, roof styles, orientations, and colours of brick, mostly lacking conspicuous ornamentation. On the right a segment of ancient grey stone wall – retaining one of its mediaeval towers, and cutouts along the top for archers – faced the road, perhaps fifty metres long, bookended at each extremity with a row of more comparatively modern terraces similar to those across the street.
“Sir,” Jimmy said, “shouldn’t we stay to protect the General?”
“Good thought, son,” the Colonel said, “but he’ll be safe enough in there. Now, can either of you boys climb?”
Johnny stepped forward. “Yes sir.”
“Right. Get up there.” Broadley indicated a nearby building. Johnny moved quickly, but the Colonel caught him by the arm, pointing down a side alley. “Carefully. Go round the back. And quietly. There are enemy units up there. Just do a quick reccy and come back.”
“Sir!” Johnny dashed away and into the shadows.
More gunfire rang out, ricocheting nearby. “Take cover, son.”
The two men hunkered down next to their Warrior, but they were still exposed on one side.
“Some cover this is,” Jimmy said. “We’re in a crossfire.”
“Never mind that,” the Colonel said. “They’re not trying to shoot us. At least not yet. It’s just a warning not to proceed any further.” He stood up, testing his theory.
Jimmy followed suit.
Several more infantrymen appeared from one of the other vehicles.
Colonel Broadley acknowledged them with a nod. “Who’s in command of you lot?”
One of the new arrivals spoke up. “Captain Phillips, sir.”
Several shots were heard from the direction in which Johnny had gone. The men looked and took a step or two in that direction.
“Good evening sir,” Captain Phillips said, approaching the Colonel.
“Well, I’d say that was an open question at the moment, Captain.”
Phillips acknowledged this with a nod. “What’s the situation sir?”
“Enemy positions on the rooftops, and on the wall around the cutouts. They’re hoping to pin us down. We’ve got a man trying to get a fuller picture.” Broadley looked in the direction from which the shots had sounded. “I hope.”
“Very good sir.” Captain Phillips took a step clo
ser to the Colonel. “Have you any orders for my men and me?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. It may not be a bad idea to bait these renegades. See what their limits are.” The Colonel pointed a finger to the right. “Make out as if you’re trying to get behind this wall – ideally, spy it out and see how many men are back there. After all, our objective is to get inside the city walls.”
“Actually sir, the city wall is further on. This wall here is the boundary of the grounds of St Mary’s Abbey.”
“Like a monastery?” the Colonel said, looking worried. “If the enemy are holed up in there, what’ve they done with the monks?”
Phillips smiled. “There haven’t been any monks in the Abbey since the Reformation.”
“Then what’s on the other side of this wall?”
“Could be anything sir. Last time I was here a building site was behind this wall.”
“Fine. Scout it out. Stay visible – without looking like you’re trying to stay visible. I want to know at what point they think you’ve gone too far, and the extent of their eyes on us. Off you go.”
The Captain’s eyes narrowed. “Isn’t that a just a little dangerous, sir?”
“Not at all. We’re standing in the line of fire right now. We need to get some sort of picture of where they’re watching, and what they’re watching for. While you’re doing that I’m going to start the convoy moving again. We’re all armoured units. We’ll be alright against small arms fire.”
“Testing them, eh? Very good sir.” Phillips saluted the Colonel and turned to his men. “On me, lads.”
The Captain and his four men headed off down a side street, disappearing from view in a moment.
Johnny reappeared, spotting the Colonel and jogging toward him.
“Report, Private,” the Colonel said, facing Johnny with his hands behind his back.
“I went round the back of the building and climbed up,” the soldier said, breathing heavily. “When I was nearly at the top someone shot at me from the building beyond it.”
“Glad you’re not hurt,” the Colonel said.
“Thank you sir. I think it was just warning shots. They hit the bricks above me.”
A few more shots rang out from somewhere nearby. “And that’ll be some more warning shots,” the Colonel said. “Come on, lads, get back in the Warrior.”
Jimmy and Johnny complied.
After gesturing to the other squads who had disembarked from their vehicles further down the convoy, Broadley boarded his vehicle.