The world was awash in flickering green light as Geldof lay on the damp grass, peering through night-vision binoculars at Scholzy and James snipping the fence at the far north corner of Faslane. Beside him lay Mick, patched up but unable to walk without assistance, which meant Geldof was still knackered from bearing half his weight on the slog up the hill. The Irishman was positioned over a long sniper rifle fitted with a night-vision scope, which he’d already used to dispatch two guards at the north gate. Geldof swept the binoculars across the base, looking for any patrols. At the moment, all was still.
Mick nudged him. He lowered the binoculars. “What?”
“I’m not really a sociopath, so. I just say that to seem harder. I’m actually perfectly well adjusted and a nice bloke. When I’m not killing people.”
“Why’re you telling me this?”
“Well, you know. Now that me and your mum are an item…”
“You and my mum are temporary fuck buddies.”
“Ah, come on. I like your mum more than that. There’s something special about her.”
“Are you looking for my blessing?”
“I suppose I am.”
“Now’s not really the best time.”
“When would be the best time? When we’re all dead?”
“Fine,” Geldof said. “If it’ll shut you up, you’ve got my blessing. Just try not to let her shag you to death.”
“Now that,” Mick said in a dreamy voice, “would be a grand way to go.”
Geldof shook his head and looked through the binoculars again. The fence now had a large semicircular hole in it, wide enough to accommodate the cows that would shortly be let out the nearby truck. They would then chase a remote-controlled spy car, fitted with a video camera and a microphone. Strapped around the neck of each of the ten cows like a deadly bell was an explosive charge. These bombs would be set off once the car, to which they’d fastened a rag rubbed in the pits of every uninfected member of their party, had led the animals down to the dock to plunge into the water. Individually, the explosives wouldn’t cause significant damage to the sub: collectively, they would be powerful enough to send it bubbling to the bottom of the loch. At least, that’s what Peter said. If it all went to plan, they would melt away into the night with their lives intact.
Geldof had three jobs: help guide the car, which had a narrow field of vision, to its target; spot for Mick, pointing out the location of any guards he didn’t see through the equally narrow focus of his scope; and, if they failed, call the number Lesley had given him, tell the person who picked up what was in those missiles, and get the hell out of there before bombers rumbled overhead.
Scholzy and James retreated to the bushes while Fanny and Scott unlatched the door and lowered the ramp. A few cows poked their heads out but didn’t venture down until the little car scooted past. The cows clattered down the ramp, in hot pursuit of the car as it skittered toward the gap in the fence. Even from up on the hill, Geldof could hear their moos and bellows. The soldiers would hear them, too, but that was the insane beauty of the plan. They would think a stray herd had got in somehow rather than make the gigantic mental leap necessary to realize they were facing a cowmakaze squad.
The car had to stop briefly on the other side of the fence as the cows all tried to squeeze through the hole at once. For a moment, Geldof thought they were going to get stuck, but once the first two squirmed free the clog cleared. They stampeded across the empty car park, heading toward the massive white rectangle of a hangar by the water’s edge. Beyond the hangar were squat buildings of various shapes and sizes, and still farther Geldof could make out the outline of the moored sub. They had a long way to go across the sprawling base. Just as the cows reached the first hangar, two small figures emerged from a guard post.
“Soldiers,” Geldof said.
“Where? Mick said, his eye glued to the scope.
“Left a bit.”
“Give me it in time!”
“Twenty-four-hour or normal?”
“Just tell me!”
“Eleven o’clock.”
Mick shifted the rifle. “Got them.”
He didn’t pull the trigger immediately. The soldiers were clearly bemused by what they saw, just staring at the cows stampeding toward them. However, as the toy car zipped past one of them gave it a long, hard look. The cows were close behind, and one of them lost its footing and thumped into the guard post. It paused, just a few feet from the soldiers, before rejoining the tail end of the pursuit like a racer after a pit stop. The soldiers ditched their confused stance. One of them hauled up his weapon and ran out after the herd.
“They must have seen the explosives,” Mick said, pulling the trigger before he’d even finished speaking.
The first soldier went down. Before Mick could let loose another round, the other soldier dived back inside the building. Klaxons began to sound.
“Bollocks,” Mick said. “This is going to get messy.”
The cows disappeared behind the hangar for a few seconds and then reappeared, heading down the narrow road that hugged the water’s edge. Tiny figures came running out of a low house a few hundred meters ahead.
“More soldiers ahead,” Geldof said into the radio. “Can you see them on the camera?”
“I see them,” said Tom, who’d been handed control of the vehicle thanks to his professed proficiency at Scalextric. “Is there another way around?”
Geldof panned the binoculars across the base. The soldiers were blocking the road and there were no turnoffs before them. “No.”
“What do you suggest I do, run over their toes with my tiny little tires?”
“Let me try to clear a path,” Mick said.
He began to pull the trigger methodically. Three of the soldiers dropped before the rest ran for the cover of another hangar, opening up the road for the car and its wake of cows. The car whizzed past the corner of the hangar. For a moment Geldof thought it was going to make it, particularly since Mick was pinging shots off the side of the building to keep the soldiers hemmed in. Then he saw sparks fly off the concrete around the car as the soldiers fired at it. The car tumbled and came to rest. The cows swiftly caught up and clustered around to rip at the rag.
“There goes plan A,” Mick said.
* * *
Lesley peered over Tom’s shoulder, feeling nauseated in equal parts by the bouncing ground-level view on the video screen and the possibility that they may have to enter the heavily guarded base themselves if the cow plan failed, which she fully expected it to do. She’d seen a lot of crazy shit since the onset of the virus, but exploding cows? That was just ludicrous. Given half a chance, she would have sneaked into the computer room and sent an e-mail to the UN. However, James, who clearly didn’t trust her, wouldn’t let her near the building. That meant she’d been unable to check for a response from Terry. If she survived, she could pick up the conversation. If she died, at least she’d said what she had to say.
As she watched, the display stopped moving. Hooves appeared. The display veered upward, and she got a close-up of a cow’s long tongue. The screen cut to static.
Tom tossed the controller aside. “The car’s down.”
“What happened?” Scholzy said into the radio.
“Somebody shot the car,” Geldof said. “The cows have stopped to munch on the rag.”
“One of us poor uninfected sods is going to have to go in and lead them down,” Peter said.
“That’s not going to fly,” Scholzy said. “We’d have to get all the way to the cows, avoid getting shot by that large group of gun-toting soldiers, and outpace those big fuckers down to the dock. Fat chance.”
“Then what?”
“We make the best of it. Are they close to the soldiers?” Scholzy asked Geldof.
“Maybe ten meters away.”
“That’ll have to do.”
Scholzy nodded at Peter, who was holding the remote detonator.
“Are you ready for a big cow-boom?” Peter said. “You get it, right? Explosions normally go kaboom but I said…”
“I think I preferred you with the mask on,” Scholzy said. “Just press the bloody button.”
“Fine,” Peter said, and did so.
A massive fireball bloomed in the middle of the base. As the shockwave reached them, everybody save the mercenaries ducked instinctively. A whole cow, still unexploded for some reason, soared into the air above the expanding flames like a lump of rock spewed up by an erupting volcano. The flames died out, sucked into a roiling black cloud of smoke that obscured the cow just as it reached the zenith of its climb. Lesley, her ears ringing and heart pounding, came out of her crouch. The sheer force of the blast must have killed a good number of the soldiers, but the submarine remained undamaged. That meant only one thing: they were going in, God help them.
* * *
The bang blew away the last remnants of sleep clinging to Tony, who had only just woken in alarm with the blare of the Klaxons. He hauled on his trousers and ran outside in his bare feet. Glen had emerged from his neighboring room, and together they looked at the cloud of smoke rising above the buildings.
“It’s started,” Tony said, switching his gaze to the sky to see what was dropping out of it. He saw nothing against the dark sheath of clouds.
Glen had his radio out and was talking urgently into it. “Is it an air raid?”
Tony didn’t catch the reply.
“Car bombs?” Glen said.
“No, cow bombs,” the crackly voice on the other side said, more loudly.
Glen and Tony stared at each other incredulously.
“What the fuck is going on?” Tony said.
“I have no idea. But we’re clearly under attack.”
“We need to get the sub out now.”
Glen got on the radio again, giving orders as the screams of wounded men reached Tony’s ears. This had to be the first phase of the attack. While he couldn’t see the warplanes, he was sure they were tearing overhead somewhere and about to follow-up on the ground assault. And if they were here they would also be over London. All of his carefully laid plans were shattered. It was too late for a deterrent, and Piers would never answer his calls now the attack was underway. He was too cowardly for that. The rage came on, so strong that he didn’t even think of Spock. Margot and Vanessa would be safe in the bunker, for the moment at least. He wouldn’t survive this first wave, but that no longer mattered. All he knew was that the moment he’d thought so much about was upon him. He didn’t rehash all of the moral arguments, didn’t think of the lives that would be lost, didn’t think of anything except the one action he could take. It wasn’t too late to keep the promise he made to Vanessa. Even if they launched their neutron bombs, there would be no reason to continue with the next wave once the virus was out. Margot and Vanessa could emerge from the bunker in a few weeks, into a new world where nobody would try to kill them because they were different.
“Tell them to fire the missiles as soon as they get to open water,” he said, his voice low and guttural.
“Gladly,” Glen said. “Now let’s get to the control room.”