The Hurst Chronicles (Book 1): Hurst (28 page)

“Yessir. Quiet night all round after your lot left. No sign of Briggs. Looks like he high-tailed it out of here. The good news, sir? The tracker is active. We have a strong signal and show the convoy heading north back towards us, now on the main road, about three clicks away from our position.”

“How’re our new friends from the Royal Navy doing?”

“We’re having quite a tea party. Looks like the rest of the men are enjoying what they call a ‘Full English’. Real eggs and bacon sir, fried tomatoes, toast and mushrooms. Beats powdered egg and beans any day. It’s quite something, sir.”

“You’re making me hungry Sergeant and not a little jealous,” smiled Peterson. “Listen up. The UAV is en route to locate that convoy and we’re sending a helicopter to Hurst to tend to their wounded. They had quite a night too, but looks like the good guys came through.”

“Good to hear sir. We’ll wait for further instructions and a ride back to the ship when you’re good and ready sir.”

“Very good Sergeant. 
Chester
 out.”

Back on the screen, the UAV had crossed a beach and was heading inland over the Isle of Wight. To the right of the UAV feed appeared a digital map with the location of the convoy as a white dot moving slowly north. The tracker signal was pinging loud and clear from the transmitter, hidden underneath Briggs motorcade.

Jack’s eyes flicked from the video feed to the map and back again as the distance between the two closed rapidly on a conversion course. There it was. In the extreme distance on the viewfinder, they could just make out the motorcade. There were four, no, five vehicles bumping along the road from Newport heading back towards Cowes. At the head of a convoy, was a baby Humvee Briggs had requisitioned. Probably stolen and adapted for his own purposes with a large cattle grill on the front, a bank of spotlights on the cabin roof and what looked like metal plates welded to the front and sides.

“Chances are they’re heading back towards Osborne with reinforcements sir. Finish what they started. What are your orders?”

“We may not get a better chance at this Sergeant. Recommend we take them out here and now. CO to fire team. Prep a Tomahawk for us, can you please?

“Fire team, aye. Programing coordinates now, sir. Coordinates locked and ready. At your command.”

“Fire when ready.”

A forward missile hatch on the 
USS Chester
, levered slowly open, its hydraulic piston whirring in the morning peace on deck. On the big screen in the stateroom, the image switched to a camera showing the missile hatch now fully open. The ship’s bow crested through the waves sending spray twenty feet either side. There was a pause before the rockets fired. Out of an eruption of smoke, the missile accelerated vertically into the grey morning sky, leaving a vapour trail behind it. The column of smoke drifted to the starboard side in the breeze.

Jack jolted, his whole body shaking, as if he’d been woken from a dream: “Wait, wait…”

Peterson and Sam glanced sideways at him, as if he’d lost his marbles.

“Call off the attack Lieutenant. How do we know Terra’s not with Briggs? She could be sat right next to him in that convoy.”

Peterson’s eyes flicked from Jack and back to the screen. He was considering this new information, weighing his options before seeming to nod, his mind made up. “I can’t do that, Jack. This may be the only chance we get to take out Briggs. He’s the biggest risk to Camp Wight we have right now. Lives at Osborne are at stake. We need to take this.”

“There must be another way? Please. I’m begging you.”

“I’m sorry Jack. There’s no way to stop the missile. There’s nothing I can do now.” He clasped his hands together, to impress upon Jack the finality of his words.

The missile had only five miles to run and stayed relatively low. It tracked northeast, speeding south of the Needles. Accelerating towards its maximum velocity, it arced over the island and just as suddenly started its descent. The screen in the stateroom alternated between the view from missile back to the drone, keeping pace with the convoy at about five hundred feet. The missile raced towards the convoy, its nose dipping down as it reached terminal velocity, zeroing in on the heat signature of the lead vehicle carrying the tracker.  Jack found he was holding his breath. The screen went completely white, followed by static as the missile struck its target.

The operator switched views back to the drone. It showed a massive explosion and mushroom cloud of smoke. It took a couple of minutes for the smoke to clear sufficiently for them to make out the scene of destruction. A huge crater emerged in the roadway. One vehicle was a tangled mess. Bodies lay motionless nearby. Two other vehicles were on their sides. The last car, further behind had its four doors open, figures standing gawping down the road.

“Can we zoom in at all Jenkins? Would be good to get a look at those guys.”

The drone dropped altitude and zoomed right in. The four figures hove into view. Peterson squinted and blinked, not quite believing his eyes. “Isn’t that…?”

“It couldn’t be, could it?” added Jack, leaning closer.

“It most definitely is,” Peterson said shaking his head. He lifted the grey green handset to his lips and said: “Jenkins, let the XO know that we have a miss. Repeat, we have a miss. Briggs is still alive and it looks like he’s got a new friend.”

“I didn’t even know those two knew each other. Perhaps they’ve been in league all this time?” said Jack.

The camera zoomed in further and sure enough, standing next to Briggs was Victor, the first officer from the 
Charlotte Maersk
.

“The double-crossing rat,” spat Jack. “I wonder if Anders knew about this?”

Chapter Fifty-two

Riley reversed the Land Rover up to the main entrance to the hotel and opened up the boot for Mila to load the rest of their gear. Other than minor burns and watery blisters on her fingers and forearm, Riley had nothing more to show for her suicidal dash through a burning building than some singed hair and scorch marks on her trousers.

Riley hurried back into the lobby area and helped Zed to his feet, levering himself up from a large leather sofa where he had been playing cards with Adele. One of the guards watched the Hurst group suspiciously as they manhandled Zed across the gravel driveway to the front seat of the Land Rover. Zed swung his legs up over the sill as he slumped back against the headrest, beads of sweat forming on his brow. He was gradually getting his strength back, but the strain was clear for all to see. He masked his pain well, but Riley knew him too well to be fooled so easily. It would be a while yet before he was back to his normal world-weary laconic self.

With Joe gone and Zed back on his feet, there was nothing left for them here. Riley was desperate now to get back to Hurst. Despite the efforts of the whole group to persuade her otherwise, Stella was adamant that she was staying put at the hotel.

Riley gave Stella a long farewell hug before stepping back to look into her eyes that were already welling with tears. She held her shoulders at arm’s length.

“Are you sure this is what you want, Stella? I know these are your friends. I get that. But living here, it’s basically a convent, yeah? You know you don’t have to live like this. You know that, right?”

The sun appeared from behind a cloud, blinding the group with brilliant sunshine. Stella squinted back, irradiated by the light. To Riley, she looked almost angelic, her skin radiant and beautiful. Through her tears, Stella’s passion and conviction was clear.

“I can’t explain it. I just feel like I belong here. You have to see beyond the Sisterhood with all their rules and religion. The way of life they are espousing here is pure. It’s what I want Riley. I think all of us secretly crave that simplicity, don’t we? A life with purpose and structure.”

“Well, not me sister, but I hear what you’re saying. I do. But is this really what you want, to live like a nun, to dedicate yourself to who knows what higher purpose? If it is, then I won’t try and dissuade you.”

“It is Riley. It really is.” She paused, looking at her shoes and then back at the hotel and the trees beyond, composing her thoughts, choosing her words carefully.

“I know you think that this whole place is false, that it’s not sustainable. That we’re all burying our heads in the sand and ignoring what’s going on in the real world out there, but I’ve made my choice. I don’t want to go back out there. I’m safe here now. I don’t have to wake up and worry about where my next meal is coming from, to live in fear, to watch my back all the time. Life here is pure and simple, free of violence and struggle. I like that.”

“But is survival enough Stella? Isn’t it up to us all to help rebuild what’s out there? Don’t you want to be part of that, to play your part?”

“Honestly…?” she scrunched up her face. “No. I’d prefer to live out my life right here.” She patted her belly, which was just beginning to show signs of swelling. Though anyone who didn’t know she was pregnant would have had a hard time spotting it. “I’ve got another life to think about now. I need a safe environment to bring up my baby and the Sisters can give me that. It’s not much, maybe, but it’s enough for me.”

Riley smiled and hugged her again. “I’m happy for you, really I am. I’ll come back and see you as soon as I can. We all will.” As they were talking, the nurse appeared in the doorway holding Adele’s hand. She ran towards them with a small rucksack bouncing on her back. She attached herself to Stella and Riley, hugging them both, before heading towards the Land Rover, with a dismissive wave over her shoulder. She slammed the car door and pressed her face to the glass looking back at Stella, her breath hot against the windowpane.

There were voices behind them, footsteps crunching on the gravel. A small posse of women rounded the corner of the house, walking swiftly and purposefully towards them. Sister Theodora was at the head of the group, flanked by the two other Sisters.

“You there, yes you,” she jabbed her finger accusingly at Riley, her voice was shrill and contorted. She reminded Riley of the wicked witch in the
Wizard of Oz
all dressed in black. All she was missing was the hat and the long pointed nose. Right now, Riley wished she had a bucket of water to throw at her. She came to a halt right in front of Riley, breathing heavily.

The Sister pointed at Riley again and bellowed instructions: “Seize them and take her into custody.”

The squat guard grabbed Riley from behind, painfully forcing her arm behind her back before she had time to react. Mila jumped out of the backseat of the Land Rover and raced round to wrestle with the woman, ripping her hand from Riley’s arm, releasing the pressure momentarily. “Get your hands off her.” The guard pushed Mila out the way and twisted the arm back into a lock.

“It’s alright Mila,” said Riley through clenched teeth. She stared back at the Sisters defiantly, ignoring the pain for a second. “Perhaps you’d be so good as to tell me what I’m being accused of?”

“We have reason to believe that the fire was no accident.” She annunciated each syllable of the word ‘accident’ slowly and with particular emphasis.

Riley’s mind was racing. Why would anyone have started the fire deliberately? For what possible reason? She suddenly thought of Joe and their escape. Could the two events be connected? But how? From the way the Sisters were behaving, they clearly had evidence that supported this conclusion. Although she had no idea how she was implicated in all this. 

“Considering you had all of us locked up when the fire broke out, I find it highly unlikely that you could think we had anything to do with it,” said Riley.

“So it was purely coincidence that your friend escapes on the same night we have a fire to fight?” said the Sister dismissively. “Rather convenient wouldn’t you say? We only have your word that you were where you say you were when the alarm was raised. Did anyone see you? Can anyone corroborate your version of events?” She shook her head waiting for an answer. “I thought not.”

Riley tried to wriggle her arm free of the guard’s grasp. She had terrible pins and needles, but the guard only twisted her arm tighter to stop her fidgeting. The Sister seemed to enjoy her discomfort and continued.

“You could have smashed the garden window any time that night. There were no witnesses.”

“Hold on a minute, you left us in there. Your guard locked the door. What else were we meant to do? Stay there and die of asphyxiation? Zed would have died too, had we not acted when we did. Anyway, why would anyone deliberately start a fire and be responsible for the murder of so many?”

“Why indeed?” Sister Theodora let the question air for a few seconds. “We hold you and your party fully responsible. Those deaths are squarely on Hurst’s shoulders.”

“That’s preposterous. So you’re staying that you have no other suspects? Are all the other residents accounted for?”

Sister Theodora whipped her head round at Sister Mel. It seemed a reasonable question, but in her mind, there was only one plausible explanation. “You held the roll call this morning, Sister Immelda. Are all the residents accounted for?”

Sister Mel hesitated. Suddenly she looked uncomfortable, a seed of doubt germinating rapidly in her mind. “All residents are accounted for, Sister. Except one.”

Sister Theodora looked irritated by this new information and disappointed that no one had thought to mention this earlier. “And you waited until now to inform me of this? Well, go on Sister. Who is it?”

“It’s one of the girls, Sister. Jean Farley. She’s been taking food to the prisoners every day. It’s possible…” She looked down at the ground, afraid of the consequences of what she was about to say. “It’s possible that she could have helped the men escape.”

“Nonsense, why would she do such a thing? No, I refuse to believe that one of our own could…” her voice trailed off. “I have every confidence that it was the group from Hurst who are responsible for this outrage, not one of our own girls.”

Riley shook her head. “You believe what you like, but I’m telling you, my group had nothing to do with this.”

“I propose we take them all into custody until the truth can be determined.” She gestured for the two guards to tie their hands behind their backs, but Riley struggled and wriggled free. In one fluid movement, she pulled the concealed knife from her belt and held it threateningly in front of her. There was no way they were going quietly.

Stella stepped forward and tried to intercede on behalf of the Hurst group placing her hand lightly on the guard’s shoulder. Sensing Stella’s approach, the guard swung round wildly with her elbow, striking Stella hard across the face. The blow left a red welt that took Stella’s breath away. She gasped in pain, as the guard stuttered an apology. Sister Mel rushed to her side to comfort her.

A sharp wolf-whistle from behind them silenced the group and they turned as one to find Zed, index finger and thumb to his lips. In the other hand he was grasping a shotgun resting the barrel on his hip, pointing squarely at the nearest guard.

“Let’s everyone settle down, shall we.”

Zed had watched the arrival of the Sisterhood from inside the vehicle with a weary shake of the head and guessed what would happen next. He had retrieved the shotgun from its hiding place strapped under the front passenger seat, where he liked to keep it, in case of trouble.

Using the Land Rover’s tailgate as a prop and a shield, he leant round, keeping both guards in his field of view. He was feeling a little shaky, sweat beading on his upper lip despite the cool ambient temperature. He was trying his damnedest to look like he meant business. Riley and Mila distanced themselves from the two guards, who were watching Zed carefully, acutely aware that he might lose his grip on the tailgate and topple over at any second.

“You two. Lay down your weapons and back away. No-one needs to get hurt here,” said Zed, his voice thin but authoritative.

Sister Theodora stared back at Zed, her eyebrows furrowed, motionless, like a gunslinger in a spaghetti Western. Sister Mel looked sideways at her imploringly.

With a deep sigh of frustration, accepting she was outmanoeuvred, Sister Theodora reluctantly conceded defeat. She signalled for the guards to lay their rifles on the ground and take two steps backwards, re-joining the rest of the group huddled together.

“Thank you,” continued Zed. “You did the right thing. Now listen up. You have our word that none of us had anything to do with the fire. Nothing. Anyone who believes otherwise is even crazier than I thought.”

Zed adjusted his grip on the tailgate and nearly fell before grabbing hold again. Mila hurried over and slid her slender frame underneath his shoulder, supporting his weight, taking the gun from his shaking hand. She peered down the barrel menacingly and trained the sights on the two Sisters, who shifted uneasily. It was perhaps the first time in their lives a gun had been pointed at them.

“What’s going to happen next is that we are all going to get in our car, drive right out of here and you’re not going to try to do anything to stop us. Are we clear?” asked Zed.

There was silence.

Zed repeated, inclining his head: “Are we clear?”

“We are clear,” echoed Sister Theodora. “May God forgive you what you have done. All of you have blood on your hands. All of you.”

“You can believe what you like. It doesn’t make it true,” said Riley defiantly.

She climbed in the driver’s seat and inserted the key in the ignition, looking back at Zed and Mila in the rear view mirror, just standing there, showing no signs of moving. Mila let out a deep sigh, like she had been holding her breath all this time and lowered the shotgun towards the ground. Mila motioned towards Stella. “You coming or staying?”

Stella was still nursing her cheek with her hand, where the guard had struck her, tears streaming down her face. She studied Adele and Riley’s imploring looks from inside the vehicle, forcing a smile. “Thanks, but I’m staying.”