“The Underground will provide decent targets, but if they want to make a scene, they’ll go for something bigger,” Oliver said, interrupting the oncoming argument. He stepped closer to one of the holoscreens and accessed the map. He narrowed it down to the most likely station that would provide the greatest loss of life and a chilling warning for the government and the royal family. “He’ll go to Victoria Station.”
Everyone stared at the map and the location on it that Oliver had highlighted.
“Fuck,” Liam ground out. “Archer is right.”
Victoria Station was a railway terminus that also connected to the London Underground. It was a hub of trains and commuters, a crowded maze of corridors and platforms that never had off-peak hours these days. It would be next to impossible to contain the location without using force if a Splice bomb was detonated in the midst of a busy Saturday morning commute.
“Should we stop the trains?” Abigail asked.
“If we do that, there’s no telling how many target sites we’d end up with. We need to let them get to their final destination.” Chapman’s gaze swept the room before locking onto Liam. “Knight, get your team into the field. We’ll notify Scotland Yard of the threat and start evacuating Victoria Station.”
Liam saluted. “Yes, sir.”
Oliver watched the Royal Legion leave the hub, gripping the command table with tight fingers. He wasn’t a metahuman, and while he was an MI6 agent with field experience, a gun was never enough against the threat of Splice.
A holoscreen opened in the center of the command table with an incoming call. Chapman initiated the uplink and the stern-faced image of Olivia Bailey, Chief of the Secret Intelligence Service, flickered into existence. She looked to be in her home office, not the one at MI6 headquarters overlooking the Thames at Vauxhall Cross.
“Chapman,” Bailey said in the cool, clipped voice that always made agents jump-to in Oliver’s experience. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”
Chapman didn’t look at her as he waved in an aide. “Trying to mitigate a disaster.”
“The Underground is still running.”
“Better to have a single target rather than multiple ones in the event a Splice bomb goes off.”
“I’d rather thatdidn’thappen. So would the rest of the government.”
“The Royal Legion has been deployed and we’re evacuating Victoria Station. If you don’t have any pertinent update to give me, I’m ending the call. A Splice threat falls under UMG jurisdiction, not yours.”
Bailey’s eyes narrowed before her gaze cut over to Oliver. “Agent Archer, I want you on the field.”
“Bailey—”
“I gave you an agent to act as a liaison for this mission. I won’t have my people standing on the sidelines.”
“He’ll be at risk from Splice in the field.”
“We’re all at risk from it whether we’re on the clock or at the market. Do not stonewall MI6, Chapman. You won’t like what happens if you do. We’ll deploy our own set of agents to assist.”
Bailey cut the uplink and Chapman shook his head in annoyance. “Agent Archer, you know where the ready room is. You’ll be deployed with Unit Four. You’ll use the code name that you were assigned previously when deployed with us.”
“Yes, sir,” Oliver replied before leaving the hub, heart beating fast in his chest.
* * *
The Thames Barrierand sea walls stretched the length of the river, imposing barricades that kept the water at a stable level through technological advancement put in place decades ago. Crossing the Thames was done by bridges or the Underground. Rarely was it done by boat, and by air only in an emergency.
The megatall towers that jutted up in the heart of London made flying a maze of possible crash sites if a pilot wasn’t skilled enough to handle the tight spaces. Oliver tracked the Royal Legion’s flight through London on the tiny portable tablet he’d been given. Sirens from the van’s system rang loudly in his ears as their driver careened through the London streets in a bid to make it to Victoria Station before all hell broke loose.
Oliver lurched in his seat as the van took a sharp corner. He switched the map from an aerial tracking view to street view. The chrono in the corner of the screen indicated Unit Four’s ETA was less than two minutes. Oliver locked the tablet and tucked it into the reinforced pocket on the front of his flak jacket. He wore the same black combat uniform as the dozen other UMG agents he’d been packed into the van with.
Oliver might not have ever been in the military, but he’d had training like all other MI6 field agents. He knew how to fight, but he was realistic about his capabilities. Close quarters combat was not his specialty.
Guns were something else entirely. Pistols and rifles were heavily regulated in the United Kingdom and had been for centuries. Government agencies had more leeway than regular citizens when it came to those kinds of weapons. Everyone in the van was armed, including Oliver. The UMG, unlike the Met, issued firearms to all their field agents. That didn’t mean they were allowed to walk about London carrying a gun in their off-hours. In situations like this though, public safety was best served by armed agents and police.
Oliver was used to espionage and infiltrating foreign targets. A ground fight of the magnitude they were driving toward wasn’t one he would normally be in the thick of. His liaison duties meant he was on the field representing MI6, not fighting beside the Royal Legion, which would honestly be a good way to die.
He had access to the general comms, but not to the restricted channel that Liam’s team communicated on. Oliver let the voices checking in and feeding updates back to the UMG drift through his ears. The updates were what he expected—that the District Line train Murphy was riding on was finally pulling into Victoria Station.
