For almost an hour the black helicopter had been stationed in an elliptical orbit above the city of London. A pair of dull red twin-lights mounted on the underside of the fuselage were the only faintly visible objects on the aircraft, which otherwise blended in perfectly with the darkening sky. The sliding passenger door had been pulled wide open and strong winds were buffeting a row of three human figures who were perched on a bench seat opposite. Below, a forest of lights sketched a confused outline of a city and defined the dark shadows of the tall buildings
The spotlight on a nearby police copter swept across the open door, revealing a haggard looking blonde woman, in her forties, dressed in a purple trouser suit. Flanking her were two young men who were both wearing light body armour.
“Jesus, whose side are you on!” muttered the pilot as the police aircraft suddenly banked in front of him, its spotlight diffusing on the tinted glass of the cockpit.
In the co-pilot’s seat, Rica finished reading the document on his PDA. He leaned around, and quietly addressed the three passengers, his voice somehow establishing itself above the noise of the rotors and the wind outside.
“This is a zero tolerance mission which means that we only want bodies. Once we’re on the ground I don’t want any games. Kill them quickly. If anyone attempts to surrender wait until their guard is down and then take them out. Satellite reconnaissance says they look like confused amateurs but I still don’t want the rank and file officers having primary contact with any of these individuals.”
“Well, somebody’s going to pay for making me call out the babysitter on a Friday,” said the blonde woman.
“Okay,” said Rica. “One more sweep while the police establish the perimeter, then we’re down in five.”
