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Chapters (124)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Acclaim for Frank Gardner’s Luke Carlton thrillers
  4. Also by Frank Gardner
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. 70
  77. 71
  78. 72
  79. 73
  80. 74
  81. 75
  82. 76
  83. 77
  84. 78
  85. 79
  86. 80
  87. 81
  88. 82
  89. 83
  90. 84
  91. 85
  92. 86
  93. 87
  94. 88
  95. 89
  96. 90
  97. 91
  98. 92
  99. 93
  100. 94
  101. 95
  102. 96
  103. 97
  104. 98
  105. 99
  106. 100
  107. 101
  108. 102
  109. 103
  110. 104
  111. 105
  112. 106
  113. 107
  114. 108
  115. 109
  116. 110
  117. 111
  118. 112
  119. 113
  120. 114
  121. 115
  122. Epilogue
  123. Acknowledgements
  124. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

Luke nodded vigorously. Play the part, learn everything, then get the hell out and raise the alarm as fast as you can.

Niamh was still speaking, flanked by the two men who looked at Luke, their faces set in grim determination.

‘So when we began to plan this we looked at a lot of different targets. A mosque, a synagogue, a shelter for migrants. Our friends in Moscow and Vilnius preferred the last one. But that’s all old-school, right?’ Luke nodded, not wishing to interrupt her at this critical moment. ‘And we’re looking for impact. Real impact. Something that will change the course of history. You see, Steve, everything up until now – Christchurch, Oslo, all the other small victories on the journey we’re taking – these are just warm-ups for the final act. This …’ again, the dramatic pause ‘… this is going to be the big one.’

Enough preamble. Just tell me the bloody target.

‘The target,’ Niamh said slowly, ‘is King’s Cross station. At 0830 hours tomorrow we’re releasing the virus, right in the middle of rush hour.’

98

Great Notley Country Park, Essex

Sunday, 20 March, 2140hrs GMT

FOUR VANS, TWO teams and some extra muscle and firepower provided by the Directorate of Special Forces in Regent’s Park Barracks. Metropolitan Police Gold Command were throwing everything at this one, deploying two of the UK’s full-time operational teams of Counter-Terrorism’s specialist firearms officers. Lines were being kept open with constant running updates provided to the home secretary, the director of the Office of Security and Counter-Terrorism, the Met Police commissioner, the director of Special Forces and the director-general of MI5.

It had already been dark for some three hours when the convoy of unmarked vehicles drove through the entrance of the deserted park just off the A131. Armed with an assortment of MCX carbines, Glock 17 pistols and Benelli M3 shotguns, the thirty-one grey-uniformed men and women were parked up next to the deserted children’s discovery park, engines running, ready to move at a moment’s notice. With Luke’s last-known location being the Crown and Anchor pub at Great Notley, this site had been chosen as their forward operating base, a springboard from which they could pounce the moment they got a bead on the people he was with.

In the front of the lead vehicle sat Firearms Inspector Gwyneth Newbold, her earpiece linking her to Gold Command in Cobalt Square, just south of Vauxhall Cross. Next to her was a man with an open laptop and headphones, a comms specialist on attachment from GCHQ in Cheltenham.

‘Anything yet?’ asked Inspector Newbold.