Blackout - By Tom Barber Page 0,73

building, and the most recent confirmation that McCarthy had just been killed, it had quite simply been a disastrous hour. They'd had the jump on the Panthers, but nevertheless they hadn't reacted in time, their officers and agents beaten to the trio by seconds.

And because of that delay, three more men had now been murdered.

Agent Wallace had called Jackson back and told him that Fraser's office building had been completely evacuated. The murder weapon had been located on a rooftop across the street and taken to the lab, along with the spent copper jacket from the bullet lying on the ground to the right of the rifle. They were checking security and street cameras to try and tag the shooter, and were searching for any witnesses. They had to follow procedure of course, and the lab could come back with something if the rifleman had made a mistake, but deep down Jackson knew he wouldn’t have. These men knew what they were doing. And this operation was a one off, not a serial attack like the two snipers back in 2002. The guy had left the rifle behind deliberately.

And Jackson felt as if all that effort in the lab would just be a waste of time. Fraser was still dead, his wife now a widow, his kids left without a father. It didn’t matter if they found a hundred fingerprints on the rifle and cartridge.

None of them would bring the man back.

News of both King’s and Fraser's deaths had been confirmed moments apart from each other, just as Cobb had been preparing to leave with his family. Two of the armed officers would deliver them to the house in one of the replacement MI6 Ford 4x4’s, ensuring they weren't tailed, then return to the station.

Before he left, Cobb had walked into the briefing room to speak to Jackson alone. Before he spoke, the atmosphere between the two men had been tense.

‘I'm sorry for giving you such a hard time earlier,' Cobb said. 'I was too tough on you. None of this is your fault.'

Jackson smiled. ‘No problem. We’re all strung out.’

A silence had followed. Cobb had walked over to the board, tapping the photographs of the three murderers, the men who started all this, Carver, Floyd and Fletcher.

'This kind of thing has happened before, hasn't it?’ Cobb continued. ‘Massacres. My Lai, in Vietnam. Haditha, in Iraq.'

'And those are ones we know about,' Jackson said.

He paused.

‘I met one of the soldiers from My Lai back in Virginia just before I went to The Farm. Just before he died. When he spoke about it, he had the same expression that I saw on Fletcher’s face earlier.’

Pause.

‘I asked him how many women and children died that day in the jungle. He said he lost count. There was never an official number released to the public, but we know the minimum was 347 civilians dead. Women and children. Babies.' He looked at the board. ‘The same exact shit that happened here.’

Silence.

'Come with us, Ryan,' Cobb had said. 'Until this is over. We can run the operation from the Hall. You'll be secure. None of the Panthers will have any idea where we are.'

Jackson smiled, and shook his head, looking back at him. 'I need to stay, Tim. To be honest, I don't fancy isolating myself. I need to be near the airports. Once someone realises the connection in these attacks, I'll probably get called straight back to Virginia. But until then, I need to be in the thick of it.'

He saw the look on Cobb’s face.

'Don’t feel guilty. You have a family to protect.’

He pointed at Cobb’s office and at the damaged glass.

‘Besides, no one's taken a shot at me today.'

There was a pause.

Both men looked at the board, the eleven photographs and names, seeing their own faces at the top of the pyramid.

Seven of the photographs now had a big X over them.

'Four of us left,' Cobb said.

At the doorway, an officer from Second Team appeared. 'Ready to go, sir?'

Cobb nodded. He’d turned to Jackson and offered his hand.

'You're sure you want to stay?'

Jackson shook it.

'Positive.'

'OK. I'll see you again soon.'

'Take care of your family, Tim. And keep your head down.'

'You too.'

And with that, Cobb had turned, walking out of the room, and disappeared down the corridor, out of sight.

Truth be told, standing alone in the briefing room and with a fresh X over the face of McCarthy, Jackson was beginning to regret not taking up Cobb’s invitation. Shaking his head, he took