in Germany?’
Carter shook his head. ‘No, not yet, I don’t like bad reviews.’
‘Something doesn’t add up. It doesn’t fit. Spiral seem to have no answers on how German Special Forces were infiltrated. And Feuchter - our friendly Spiral_H QIII coordinator - has disappeared and is presumed dead. They pulled the fried corpse of his niece - and the bodies of all the guests from the party - from the wreckage after the fire had been brought under control. Dog meat. But, mysteriously, no sign of Mr Feuchter himself. Strange, eh, considering you put a bullet in the cunt? I do find it disconcerting that our faithful employers have no answers for these questions - after all, their surveillance and technology budgets must exceed NASA’s.’
Carter shrugged. ‘They’re not God. They can’t know everything.’
‘You’re dead right,’ grunted Slater, busy picking pieces of bacon rind from his remaining teeth. ‘Go on, Jam, tell him about the Squads.’
Jam sighed, and Carter caught the resignation in the man. Strange, for sure, because they had survived some tough campaigns together. They had crossed the desert during the Battle of Cairo7, performed TankerRuns after a designer plague - the Grey Death - had wiped out 58 million people and devastated the economies, and of course populations, of Europe, North Africa and North and South America, and fought several pitched battles against the terrorist resurgence after the Anti-NBC Laws were passed.
Jam’s face was stern. ‘A DemolSquad, number 14, has been wiped out.’
‘I know,’ said Carter softly. ‘But things like this can happen. It is a probability in our line of work. Men and women die. Life’s a bitch, yeah?’
‘Yes, but what’s even worse is that Spiral have not published the information. I found out by hacking Cuban Special Circumstances computers, stumbled across the information by accident. So, me and Nicky set out to find out a few things, keep a few tabs on several of our other brother Squads, including members of the Core. Two more DemolSquads are missing, 77 and S-4.’
‘The sniper squad? Rex, Scope and Amber?’
‘Hmm,’ nodded Jam, blowing the room full of smoke. ‘Coincidence? I thought to myself. Then we get a real bad job in London; the sort that makes you regret ever even thinking about signing that fucking pink form by which you gave up your freedom. And guess what...’
‘Set-up?’
‘Yeah.’ Jam finished his cigarette, and immediately lit another. ‘They were waiting for us. I went in on foot to scope ahead; bastards almost tagged me. Six of them. Very professional: well armed, hard as fuck, intelligent, swift movers.’
‘And you also think I was set up?’ said Carter softly.
‘Did occur to me, old buddy.’
Carter scratched at his stubble, and accepted a cigarette from Nicky. ‘It’s funny ... I had a call from Nats this morning. She’s on her way up here. She sounded a little panicked.’
‘Be careful with her,’ said Slater. ‘She’s one of the TacSquads, a Tactical Officer. Old School. Crafty as a fucking bitch.’
‘I’ve known her for years. We’re good friends...’
Jam shrugged and reached across the table, patting Carter’s hand. ‘Natasha is a bird—’ Nicky gasped ... ‘No offence meant, love. You know, Carter, a bit of moist cunt and you always did think with your dick. Trust no fucker, my friend. Not Nats. Not even us. There are DemolSquads dead, others missing. You’ve been popped at, and we sure as fuck had a lot of high-velocity shots spat our way. Why do you think we came up here in the van? For fucking fun? Our ECubes have been compromised ... and if ECubes are the pinnacle of encrypted communication, then nothing is safe. You can’t fucking text me your descramble code and hope it doesn’t get compromised when the shit finally hits the very large fan ... Carter, Spiral know something and they’re not telling... you sure this place is not bugged?’
‘I’m sure. I have my
Carter shook his head. ‘No, not yet, I don’t like bad reviews.’
‘Something doesn’t add up. It doesn’t fit. Spiral seem to have no answers on how German Special Forces were infiltrated. And Feuchter - our friendly Spiral_H QIII coordinator - has disappeared and is presumed dead. They pulled the fried corpse of his niece - and the bodies of all the guests from the party - from the wreckage after the fire had been brought under control. Dog meat. But, mysteriously, no sign of Mr Feuchter himself. Strange, eh, considering you put a bullet in the cunt? I do find it disconcerting that our faithful employers have no answers for these questions - after all, their surveillance and technology budgets must exceed NASA’s.’
Carter shrugged. ‘They’re not God. They can’t know everything.’
‘You’re dead right,’ grunted Slater, busy picking pieces of bacon rind from his remaining teeth. ‘Go on, Jam, tell him about the Squads.’
Jam sighed, and Carter caught the resignation in the man. Strange, for sure, because they had survived some tough campaigns together. They had crossed the desert during the Battle of Cairo7, performed TankerRuns after a designer plague - the Grey Death - had wiped out 58 million people and devastated the economies, and of course populations, of Europe, North Africa and North and South America, and fought several pitched battles against the terrorist resurgence after the Anti-NBC Laws were passed.
Jam’s face was stern. ‘A DemolSquad, number 14, has been wiped out.’
‘I know,’ said Carter softly. ‘But things like this can happen. It is a probability in our line of work. Men and women die. Life’s a bitch, yeah?’
‘Yes, but what’s even worse is that Spiral have not published the information. I found out by hacking Cuban Special Circumstances computers, stumbled across the information by accident. So, me and Nicky set out to find out a few things, keep a few tabs on several of our other brother Squads, including members of the Core. Two more DemolSquads are missing, 77 and S-4.’
‘The sniper squad? Rex, Scope and Amber?’
‘Hmm,’ nodded Jam, blowing the room full of smoke. ‘Coincidence? I thought to myself. Then we get a real bad job in London; the sort that makes you regret ever even thinking about signing that fucking pink form by which you gave up your freedom. And guess what...’
‘Set-up?’
‘Yeah.’ Jam finished his cigarette, and immediately lit another. ‘They were waiting for us. I went in on foot to scope ahead; bastards almost tagged me. Six of them. Very professional: well armed, hard as fuck, intelligent, swift movers.’
‘And you also think I was set up?’ said Carter softly.
‘Did occur to me, old buddy.’
Carter scratched at his stubble, and accepted a cigarette from Nicky. ‘It’s funny ... I had a call from Nats this morning. She’s on her way up here. She sounded a little panicked.’
‘Be careful with her,’ said Slater. ‘She’s one of the TacSquads, a Tactical Officer. Old School. Crafty as a fucking bitch.’
‘I’ve known her for years. We’re good friends...’
Jam shrugged and reached across the table, patting Carter’s hand. ‘Natasha is a bird—’ Nicky gasped ... ‘No offence meant, love. You know, Carter, a bit of moist cunt and you always did think with your dick. Trust no fucker, my friend. Not Nats. Not even us. There are DemolSquads dead, others missing. You’ve been popped at, and we sure as fuck had a lot of high-velocity shots spat our way. Why do you think we came up here in the van? For fucking fun? Our ECubes have been compromised ... and if ECubes are the pinnacle of encrypted communication, then nothing is safe. You can’t fucking text me your descramble code and hope it doesn’t get compromised when the shit finally hits the very large fan ... Carter, Spiral know something and they’re not telling... you sure this place is not bugged?’
‘I’m sure. I have my
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