Mark Chadbourn - The Burning Man

As they pushed past the cases and rucksacks, ripples of anxiety ran throughout the milling crowd. Overhead their faces looked down, frozen in the guilt of their horrific actions.

Soon space was opening up so they could run, but that made the situation even worse for it isolated and identified them, and brought even more pointing hands and shouts of alarm. When they were two hundred feet from the doors, ten members of the Elite Firearms Unit surged in, guns at the ready.

‘Split up,’ Church said. They scattered in different directions. The volume of travellers would have made it easy to fade into the background under normal circumstances, but the blue splashes of the armed police were moving in from all sides, their numbers swelling by the second. As Church hurried to the stairs to the upper floor he lost sight of Shavi and Ruth, but he saw Laura surrounded by four officers. She dodged, and when her way was blocked mouthed something clearly unpleasant. A gun butt came down hard on the back of her skull. Church wanted to rush to her aid, but knew there was nothing he could do.

On the upper floor, he slowed to a walk and tried to merge into the crowds, but he could see the CCTV cameras moving to follow his path. The police closed in on him not far from the open-plan bar. The crowds mysteriously evaporated and he was surrounded with seven guns trained on him.

‘Kneel,’ the police commander barked, ‘or we shoot.’

Beyond the circle of police, the faces of the airport users watched him, filled with equal measures of hatred and fear.

The holding cell in the Heathrow Security Annexe was painted magnolia, even the reinforced steel blast door. There was one bench and no windows. The strip light glared, and there was a faint electronic hum that set the nerves on edge.

‘Any other good plans, Church-dude?’ Laura nursed the back of her head where blood caked her blonde hair.

‘Stop whining. I don’t hear you suggesting anything constructive,’ Ruth snapped. A puffy bruise was growing just beneath her left eye.

‘Ah, shut up. Let’s face it — we never had a chance. A handful of people against the world? Like we were actually going to achieve anything.’

‘Why don’t you join Shavi? Do us all a favour.’ Ruth nodded to Shavi who sat cross-legged in one corner, deep in meditation.

‘Stop fighting,’ Church ordered. ‘If Mallory, Sophie and Caitlin did their job, we still have a chance of getting away.’

‘You’re expecting a last-minute rescue?’ Laura said sullenly. ‘I don’t want to burst your bubble, but I wouldn’t trust those three to find their own arses in a dark room.’

Ruth sat next to Church. ‘This might be the last we see of each other,’ she said quietly. ‘They’re going to split us up, ship us off to Belmarsh, the full terrorist route. It’s not fair. We only just found each other again.’

Church took her hand. He was still searching for some meaningful words when the heavy lock rang out and the door swung open. Two armed and helmeted policemen flanked a senior officer. He still wore his flak jacket, but he had left his helmet behind. He was in his forties with silvery hair, and though his gaze was cold and steady, occasionally a tremor disturbed his features, an involuntary facial tic that Church had seen before. There was a faint disconnectedness about him, too, the result of his mind trying to process twin thought-tracks — his own and that of the spider that was doubtless embedded somewhere in his body.

‘Get up,’ he said. ‘You’re going on a short ride. We need to get you fitted for cuffs and leg-irons.’ Though there was no obvious sign in the officer’s words, Church was certain that none of them would be reaching their destination.

The men levelled their weapons for emphasis. Church and Ruth stood up. Laura gently stirred Shavi. When he stretched, he turned his good eye to Church and blinked slowly, a knowing sign that puzzled Church.

Ruth and Laura looked to Church. He nodded to them to proceed.

‘That’s right, be clever,’ the officer said.

Behind the police, a figure loomed. ‘All right, stand down. I don’t know — give boys guns and there’s always trouble.’ Hunter flashed his credentials to the senior officer, who was clearly taken aback.

‘Commander Hunter? This is a police operation-’

‘Of course it is. That’s why it’s about to go pear-shaped.’ He nodded to the two armed men. ‘All right, clear off.’

The two men looked uncertainly at the senior officer. He was confused, but quickly tried to regain his authority.

Hunter cut him off. ‘Let’s not do this in front of your boys.’

The senior officer motioned for the men to leave and Hunter shut the door behind them.

‘What’s all this about?’ the senior officer asked.

Hunter pressed a small black box against the senior officer’s arm. There was a blue flash and the senior officer fell to the ground, unconscious. Hunter held up the box. ‘Government-issue taser. Good for every occasion.’

‘Found your conscience, then?’ Laura said.

‘Funny, when I pictured this in my head it involved you throwing your arms around my neck and smothering me with kisses of gratitude.’

‘Get us out of here and I might just do that. But don’t start thinking it actually means something.’

‘Heaven forfend.’ He dragged the senior officer into the corner, out of sight of the door. ‘Do exactly what I say. We’ll pick up those guards in the corridor and go out through security, where we’ll collect your sword and spear. Then to the vehicle compound where there’s an armoured prisoner transit waiting. Don’t look at me. Don’t talk to me. Act sullenly — should come natural to you lot. We’ve got to move fast. We won’t have much time to cover the trail.’

‘Okay,’ Church said. ‘And thanks.’

‘It’s a job. I always do things to the best of my ability.’

Hunter’s credentials commanded surprising weight as they breezed through security. In the vehicle compound, the guards herded Church, Ruth, Shavi and Laura into the back of the armoured transit and Hunter drove it past the final security checkpoint towards the M4.

‘I’ll expect those kisses shortly,’ Hunter shouted back through the wire mesh between the driver’s cab and the back of the van.

‘It’ll be a life-altering experience. Hope you’re up to it,’ Laura replied.

‘What changed your mind?’ Church asked Hunter.

‘The realisation that I really have no choice.’

‘You are very cool under pressure,’ Shavi said. ‘To walk into the heart of the Enemy’s territory … amazing.’

‘I don’t expect I’ll be able to get away with that again. Next time my charismatic and sexy face will be alongside your mugshots.’

‘Where are we going?’ Ruth asked.

‘To swap vehicles so we can’t be traced. Take a breather, it’s not far.’

Church settled back next to Shavi. ‘You knew something like this was going to happen.’

‘I feel myself awakening, like an orchid in the sun.’ Shavi gave a faint, warming smile. ‘Within me, there are vast depths. Once before I tapped them, and I will do so again.’

‘Do what you can. You’re our seer, Shavi. You can see things that we can’t. We need that advantage.’

Soon after, Hunter pulled the transit into Heston Services where he abandoned it for a brand-new white van.

‘I know they can still track us, but I’m not going to make it easy for them.’ He urged Church to sit in the front with him. Once they were back on the motorway, he said, ‘What’s the strategy?’

‘We need to get to Scandinavia.’ Church described his encounter with Robin Goodfellow. ‘But that’s all I’ve got. Now that we’re officially terrorists I don’t see how we can even get out of the country.’