Neighbourhood Watch Ch. 02

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The makeshift screen showed that the military had scrambled several helicopters and aircraft to locate the intruder and were pursuing it back towards Beckbury. The air of the town hall was filled with the radio communications between the authorities and their land based counterparts. Everyone was in uproar, rightly pointing out that this could lead to unwarranted attention -- until they realised that the pursuing military aircraft had suddenly lost the drone from their radar, with a similar problem afflicting the ground based equipment too.

The drone simply hovered there, holding its location as the military aircraft swept past it. They continued to search for the unidentified intruder for several more minutes before breaking off and heading back to the RAF base. Mark closed down the laptop and stood before his peers to a stunned silence. Not only was Beckbury off the grid as far as any ordnance survey map was concerned, it was now completely invisible to any means of electronic detection.

Since then, Mark had become the person to talk to about any equipment that people may need in their day to day affairs -- whether it was a new satellite TV system or a stealth boat to get in and out of a harbour without being noticed.

The doors to the garage opened and a figure clothed in industrial welding gear walked out into the daylight. Mark lifted up the mask to reveal a beaming smile on his face.

"You alright Ian?" He asked. Ian nodded.

"Yes, you?"

"Sound as a pound mate," Mark answered. "You want a drink?" he gestured for Ian to follow him into the garage.

"What have you got?" he said as he followed Mark to a fridge in the corner of what was nominally Mark's workshop. Ian took note of the large sealed unit that dominated the centre of the floor.

"Beer, coke, Jack Daniels, vodka," Mark muttered. "As well as the usual air stewardess options of tea, coffee or hot chocolate."

"Tea will be fine. It's a bit early in the morning for alcohol." Ian commented. "Please tell me that toilet is not functional." Ian said, looking at the device in the corner of the room.

"Oh that. No, it's not," Mark laughed. "But I always do my best thinking sitting on the loo, oddly enough. Whenever I hit the wall I go and sit on the kermode there and ponder the grand mysteries of life."

"I can see you've been busy over the last couple of days."

"Oh yeah, the cage." Mark said as he switched the kettle on. "Follow me, I'll give you the tour." He led Ian across to the steel box. "So, we have two chambers," he said as he opened a pressurised door. "First chamber is for the operator -- you go in there and control everything that happens in the second chamber from either this terminal here or with the remote arms there." Ian saw the large multi-screened terminal sitting in the first room and a large glass wall with two holes bored into it, through which there were two heavy-duty robotic arms that protruded into the sealed section. "You pop the sample in through the slot over there..." Mark indicated to a small slot in the sealed area. "...and Robert is your Mother's Brother, you're good to go."

"What's with the robotic arms?" Ian asked. Mark smiled.

"Funny you should mention those," he picked up a glass jar from a work surface. "The acidic compound I need to use to breakdown the virus is too strong for any conventional biohazard gloves -- it'll eat through that stuff like a knife through soft tissue -- so I want to be as far away from it as possible when I'm using it."

"Sounds like you've got everything covered." Ian replied as Mark stepped out of the metal cubicle.

"Not quite," Mark said as Ian followed him towards the kettle. "Screamager has some particularly peculiar properties from what I understand." He knelt down and picked up a small, black container and handed it to Ian. "You'll need to give this to the ladies for later on."

"What is it?"

"It's a biohazard container with a liquid nitrogen shell, a bit like a flask," Mark replied as he scooped up a small telephone-type device and passed it to Ian. "They need to transfer the sample to it within three minutes of shutting down the containment unit, otherwise the sample will start to vaporise as it warms up and they'll be dead before they know it. If they get any problems, they can call me directly on that two way unit -- I'll be listening out for it all night."

"Okay," Ian sounded slightly nervous. "Look, I need to know just what the hell is this thing that Hamilton wants us to steal? It sounds worse the more I hear about it."

"Oh the joys of the cold war," Mark muttered. "Screamager was the last of the Big Bad NBC weapons that either side developed in the race to trump one another to achieve the most effective way of wiping out the enemy. It was the brainchild of Wolfgang Blicke, a German scientist working for NATO -- although officially, they'd never admit to that, what with the ban on developing this type of technology."

"Unfortunately, Screamager was deemed to be too effective -- once deployed they just couldn't control it." Mark continued as he finished making the tea and passed a mug to Ian. "It was an indiscriminate killer that worked by turning the body's immune system against itself -- they theorised that the only folks left alive would be those without an immune system, and they probably wouldn't survive long in a post apocalyptic world anyway." Both of them pondered the point for a moment. "Then the Berlin Wall came down and we all made like friends. It was supposed to have been destroyed." Mark paused for a minute. "Until now."

"Wow." Ian said. "How the hell do you know so much about it?"

"Well, that's another story," Mark said, his mood lifting slightly. "I did a little work for the Ministry of Defence a few years ago and I...liberated some files that contained details of all their dirty laundry that they didn't want the world to know about." He took a drink from the mug. "But you probably already knew that."

"Actually, I didn't," Ian answered. "There are a couple of holes in your file that I've been keen to fill in, that's covered one of them."

"Oh yes, you and your files," Mark leaned against the counter. "Each to their own."

"Well, I consider it my insurance policy -- I know enough things about critical people to ensure that I'm safe from any...reprisals, let's just put it like that," Ian said with a rueful smile on his face. "Plus I have my uses to folks here in Beckbury, just like you."

"We all have uses Ian," Mark said as he finished his tea and pulled the welders mask back down over his face. "It's just a question of whether we outlive them or not."

******

"Did you see the tits on that Canadian bitch?" asked Corporal Thomas, whose ancestors might be Welsh but whose accent was definitely London.

"That would be Major Howard," said Sergeant Porter. "No sexist remarks in the modern army thank you, Corporal! Although I'll concede Captain King is pleasant on the eye."

Actually he wondered if the Major had her hair back so firmly and wore glasses to distract attention from her appearance. He still had doubts about women in the army, but King was the sort of woman officer he respected: she knew her stuff and didn't hide her femininity. Some of the butch ones were a pain! On the other hand it couldn't be much fun for Howard looking like a supermodel. He wondered why she had chosen the army over the catwalk.

****

The company adjutant however knew that regardless of their appearance the two women were a pain. Admittedly a pleasant one, but snap security inspections were always trouble. Still by arriving the day before the two women from CARDE -- the Canadian Armament and Research Development Establishment, one of the various joint operational units that kept appearing and disappearing - had shown how they intended to play the game. He had twelve hours to make sure the unit looked good. Undoubtedly they'd find enough things to justify the inspection, but given that much warning nothing that would put a black mark on his record. He wondered for a moment what the British one would be like in bed! Speaking of which he'd have to be up early to do a detailed round of the research base before the inspection started.

****

Abbie looked smart in her British army uniform, with a signals flash as well as the CARDE tag. She slid the silenced pistol into her waistband beneath the uniform jacket and then picked up the MP5, checking that the training ammunition magazine was the one inserted. She looked at her watch and smiled at Lady Ash. "Well we did tell him the inspection was today!" It was three minutes after midnight. She'd spent the evening with the junior officers in the Mess. Since she was there to inspect them they had kept away from anything like talking shop but she'd still managed to confirm the details from her abortive previous attempt were still valid.

Ian's documentation had passed muster with amazing ease.

Ash was less prepared and so had kept to her quarters all evening.

****

Ash picked up the gasmask and pocketed half a dozen tear gas grenades. She had the job of diverting the bulk of the defenders while Abbie went for the Pendle Hill Laboratory secure storage building. They had agreed to keep casualties to the minimum, but a few people had to die to prove the thieves' determination.

"I'll give you five minutes to get in position," She told Abbie. "And then I'm going to make our hosts very unhappy."

Steph had been dozing in the Bentley. People didn't realize how unpleasant diplomatic duties could be in some less advanced countries, so it wasn't the most uncomfortable position she'd been in, but it still took a few moments to gather her senses when Ash's text arrived. The MP5 and the wire cutters were both beneath the driver's seat so she was en route in less than a minute. She drove past the laboratory gate, noticing the two soldiers on duty, and stopped around two hundred yards further along the perimeter. Despite Ash's quiet reconnaissance the previous day she still made a careful scan through both low light and infra-red glasses before she got out of the car and set to work cutting a gap in the fence. She was still not finished when the night exploded with flashes and sirens.

The young Second Lieutenant's eyes widened as Major Howard entered and he registered the silenced MP5. His training held and he hit the alarm button as she fired. He felt three light thumps on his chest and looked down at the fluorescent dye.

"This surprise inspection is now underway and you are dead, Lieutenant! Now sit there until you are told you can come back to life." She smiled at him. It was quite a production. "Good reflexes with the alarm by the way," she added and then disappeared.

Quarters here were pretty good, and Sergeant Porter had his own small room in the barracks. He awoke instantly as the alarm went off and rolled out of bed. Ignoring his state of partial undress he ran into the main room of the barracks block. Other NCO's were also appearing.

Then the room lit up. Immediately after there was a small explosion and gas started to fill the room.

"This is an inspection and you are all fucking dead!" screamed Ash. She pulled the gas mask on and proceeded to move around the room, shooting bewildered soldiers once in the chest or back of the head. She tossed another flash grenade and then retreated outside. She quickly attached the cord she'd just tied to the gas grenade fixed to the other side of the doorway. Then she jogged towards the officer's quarters. The CO and the adjutant lived off base but the junior officers were all available as targets. Moving as fast as she ever had Ash quickly disposed of two of the three with blank rounds and a quick explanation. The third appeared holding a rifle. Obviously a veteran. He registered his colleagues sitting on the grass in dye-spattered pyjamas and paused. Then he stiffened as a warm muzzle lightly touched his neck.

"Good try Lieutenant, but I'm afraid not quite quick enough," said Ash quietly, a slight mid-Atlantic tone to her voice. "This is a surprise inspection and you are now a terrorist victim. Give me the rifle and sit down please."

Grudgingly he handed over the rifle. Ash noted that it was a personal weapon.

"I'll make sure to keep it safe for you," she promised. Then the MP5 sent three dye bullets against his chest.

"Damn!" he muttered as she disappeared round the building.

****

Carrying the small Biohazard container Abbie walked openly towards the secure storage facility. There should be two soldiers on duty.

"Halt, who goes there?" said a voice from the darkness surrounding the building.

"This is an unscheduled readiness inspection," announced Abbie. "Announce yourself soldier."

"Ma'am. Private MacAllister," said the soldier stepping into view and bracing to attention. Then he stared as Abbie brought up the silenced automatic from behind her back and fired into him.

"Oh shi..." he managed before collapsing.

"Jock? What's happening?" said another voice, this time with a Geordie accent. Behind her Abbie heard the siren start. The other soldier ran up, fiddling with his rifle.

Phutt! Phutt! Phutt!

The soldier screamed once and then collapsed. Quickly Abbie removed his and MacAllister's weapons and piled them beside the main entrance. She placed two small charges against the hinges and then stepped back before triggering them. The explosions were small and drowned by the noise at the barracks. She pulled on some night vision goggles and then quickly pulled the damage door open and entered. She walked down the corridor to the fourth room and proceeded to blow the door off that as well.

When she removed the goggles and turned the light on she could see that the pressurized room contained several working tops and a half-dozen large refrigerators. Walking to the fourth of these she attached a small device and used it to brute force the combination. When it beeped a minute later she pulled the door open. The wash of cold air was invigorating. The vials she sought was in a small safety container already, just labelled 'Batch 1164'. She quickly placed it into the container and then carefully resecured the refrigerator before leaving. She brought round the sling supporting the MP5 and dumped the pistol. In emergency she had a magazine of armour-piercing bullets for her automatic weapon as well as the dye rounds. But hopefully no one else need die tonight. Of course if containment failed she and everyone around her would be dead within four days!

****

Steph waited in the cover of some bushes by the gap in the fence, her MP5 ready. The siren had by now stopped and she heard the sound of quiet running from inside the fence.

"Pocahontas," said Abbie's in a quiet voice.

"Come ahead," said Steph.

Another three minutes passed as they both waited alertly. Then more running feet approached.

"Pocahontas!" Steph noticed that Ash's voice still had the slight accent she had adopted. It was a reassuringly professional touch.

"Come ahead," she replied once again.

Once reunited, the women headed for the Bentley. Abbie slid into the back with her precious cargo, while Ash added the cosmetic touches to the car before getting in beside her. Steph returned her weapon to beneath her seat and started the engine before rotating the number plates to the newly made Danish licence.

Once they were ten miles away, Ash contacted Mark on the unit he had provided. Everything now depended on him. There was no way Hamilton was getting the virus, she vowed to herself once more.

*****************************

It was the early hours of the morning by the time Steph pulled the Bentley to a halt outside Mark's house. She flashed her headlights twice, triggering an automatic response with the internal security system to open the gates. The stately vehicle glided up the drive, gracefully stopping outside the doors of the garage.

Ian stepped out as the doors swung open, signalling for the car to enter the cavernous expanse. Steph guided the Bentley inside as Ian shut the door behind them, securing it from the outside world.

The doors opened and the occupants stepped out, Abbie carrying the precious cargo in her hands.

"Evening ladies," the voice was distorted and uneven, shortly followed by heavy footsteps on the hard stone floor. "I understand you have something for me?" Mark was wearing a bright orange hazmat suit, his face encased in a complex mask with breathing apparatus attached to his back. Abbie stepped forward, holding the biohazard container with outstretched hands.

"Here you go, Dr Freeman," she joked as he took it from her.

"Oooh, Candygram for Mongo," Mark replied. "You okay?" He asked. Everyone could hear the concerned tone in his voice.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Abbie replied as she followed him across to the steel cage in the room. He shrugged as he opened the door to the second part of the makeshift lab. After he had placed the container inside and secured the door again, he took a moment to address his guests.

"Okay people," Mark said. "I'm going to be abit busy for the next few hours -- there are drinks in the fridge, food in the kitchen and beds in the spare rooms if anyone wants to have a kip." The door sealed behind him as he stepped inside, leaving the room silent.

"Well," Steph said. "I don't know about you folks but I could do with a drink." Ash and Abbie nodded.

"I'll do the honours." Ian said.

"Fantastic," Ash said. "Something strong and long will do." She then looked over at Abbie. "So, what's going on with you and Mark?"

"Nothing. Why?" Abbie answered.

"Oh, no reason." Ash said.

****

Three hours into their night time vigil, she wasn't sure how long she had been watching him inside the cage -- the narrow slots of Perspex that doubled up as windows only afforded Ash a restricted view of his activities inside the sealed metal construct -- but his current behaviour was beginning to fill her with dread. He had been moving about erratically now for several minutes, his arms and legs flailing around in an uncoordinated manner as he randomly moved about the compartment.

"Please tell me that everything is okay." Steph's question alerted Ash to her counterpart's present. "Or has he overstretched his reach and killed us all?"

"Not sure -- he's been moving around like that for a few minutes now," Ash said. "I guess the only way we'll find out is to press the intercom." Her finger hovered over the button for a second, almost like she was dreading the response she was about to receive. Steph reached over and pressed down on Ash's finger.

"...Blue Canary in the outlet by the light switch; who watches over you; make a little birdhouse in your soul; not to put too fine a point on it; say I'm the only bee in your bonnet; make a little birdhouse in your soul..."

"He's singing." Ash said as she failed to contain the smile on her face while they watched Mark shuffle and jig around the confined room, his arms moving wildly as his head bounced up and down. "And that must be his idea of dancing." Steph almost baulked at the suggestion.

"Then he'll need lessons before the county ball," Steph snorted. "I can't possibly have anyone behaving like that in public."

"Hey, Sparky!" Ash spoke into the intercom. Mark seemed to freeze in place. "How's it going in there?" He shuffled over to the intercom on his side of the sealed room.

"Oh, just great." He said, sounding slightly out of breath. "I finished up about twenty minutes ago. It's all ready."

"Great," Ash said. "Get out here then and tell me how to operate your cappuccino machine." The door seal hissed for a second, allowing stale, recycled air to escape. Mark stepped out of the room, closed the door behind him and then removed his helmet. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a glass vial that was about the size of a test tube that he handed to Ash.