They each unslung their AR15s and knelt in firing positions, covering each other’s backs.
‘First Team is on the roof,’ the Sergeant said into his radio.
As the helicopter rose, pulling back from the building with the ropes still hanging down from its cabin, the twelve man ESU team took a moment to take stock, aiming out in a circle, letting their senses calibrate, their eyes protected from swirling dust and grit by protective goggles.
As they did so, the officers noticed something that hadn’t been visible from above.
There were six small black blankets placed around the roof, surrounding the men in a large circle.
The blankets were concealing something.
Castle burst through the entrance to the stairwell.
Running up the stairs, he peered over the wall and saw the circle of ESU officers.
He dropped down and picked up a clacker he’d left on one of the steps.
Staying low behind cover, he closed his eyes and squeezed it.
Down on the street, Josh was beside Hobbs when the helicopter suddenly reared up. There was the sound of smashing glass from windows on buildings nearby, glass raining down to the street as people ran and ducked for cover from a sudden hail of deadly shrapnel.
‘Jesus Christ!’ he said. ‘What the hell was that?’
‘What’s going on? Briggs, report!’ Hobbs said into his radio, as debris continued to rain down on them.
‘Sir, First Team is down!’ the pilot said. ‘I repeat, First Team is down!’
‘What? How many?’
‘All of them!’
By the stairwell, Castle peered over the wall again. The clacker had been rigged up to six Claymore mines he and Spades had set up when they arrived, the same weapons as those aimed at the front entrance. With black blankets draped over them, the mines were pretty much invisible from above on the dark tarred surface. Shaped in a boxy curved rectangle, each convex mine contained seven hundred steel balls buried in an epoxy resin and C4 plastic explosive. When detonated, the balls were projected into a firing line at just under four thousand feet per second. There was a reason many dirty-bomb makers imitated the design.
One Claymore could cut down an entire group of people with one push of a clacker.
Six of them daisy-chained together in a circle could shred an entire platoon.
He saw what was left of the ESU task force spread out on the roof. Twelve cops, the NYPD’s finest, dropped in one moment with not a single bullet fired.
Their AR15s and equipment were scattered everywhere, a sea of bodies, weapons, blood, radios and ball bearings.
He smiled. Seeing as his own team controlled the lobby, there’d been only one other way into the building available to them and they’d acted exactly as anticipated.
Looking up, Castle saw the ESU helicopter still hovering, the pilot inside most likely reporting what had just happened and what he could see. Laying down his M4A1, Castle swung a circular tube from a holster by his left shoulder and pulled it out, the sights flipping up into place as the launcher extended. It was an M72 LAW, a light anti-tank weapon made up of two tubes. When drawn open, the launcher armed itself, a 66m HEAT warhead primed and ready to be fired. It was easily portable and unguided, meaning whoever was firing needed to hit their target first time.
Castle lifted it to his shoulder and aimed at the vessel, narrowing his eyes as the rotors kicked up dust and grit from the roof.
It was still well within range.
He put the sights on the underbelly.
Down on the street they were brushing glass and other debris off themselves, still trying to grasp what had just happened, when there was a sudden whoosh in the sky and a large explosion.
Ducking for cover again, they all looked up and saw the ESU helicopter take a massive hit, a large fireball erupting from its undercarriage.
Recoiling from the impact, the vessel started to spin, smoke pouring from the rotor, the chopper shaking as it turned.
‘Pull up, Briggs!’ Hobbs screamed into his radio. ‘Pull up!’
The chopper wheeled away to the left but the vessel was heading for the other side of the building towards Riverbank State Park.
Shepherd, Josh and Marquez watched as it dropped out of sight, going down fast.
They didn’t see it land but they heard the explosion.
Up on the roof, Castle heard it too. He walked over to the west side of the building. He saw the burning wreckage of the chopper in Riverbank State Park, fifty yards or so away by the Hudson River, the flames a bright and harsh orange in the dark night as thick smoke billowed up.
A helicopter and an entire ESU task force dropped in less than twenty seconds.
So much for the rescue effort.
‘Castle, report,’ came King’s voice.
‘ESU is down, sir,’ he said, pushing his pressel. ‘So is their chopper.’
‘Excellent.’
Tossing the LAW launcher to the concrete, Castle scooped up his M4A1 from the stairs and moved back down to the door, a smile on his lips and twelve dead cops laid out on the roof behind him.
TWENTY
Down in 8A, the group had heard two explosions. Moments earlier, they’d heard the helicopter moving in close, the windows reverberating slightly as it hovered either nearby or above them. Unnerved and confused, they glanced at each other, literally alone in the dark.
‘What the hell was that?’ Barlow said.
They waited. Listening.
‘Maybe they’re engaging them?’ Vargas said.
Together, the pair of Marshals headed towards the window facing the Hudson side, Archer moving across the room and joining them. It was more than unlikely that another sharpshooter would be covering this side, considering he’d have to be hundreds of yards away the other side of the River. Nevertheless, the trio looked down through the side of the curtains, not standing front on, sneaking quick glances at the west side of the building below.
‘Holy shit,’ Barlow said.
There was the burning wreckage of a helicopter in Riverbank State Park, the vessel engulfed in flames, smoke billowing up into the night. They could just make out distinctive white lettering on the tail of the wrecked burning vessel.
ESU.
‘No, no,’ Barlow said. ‘Not good.’
The trio looked at each other, realising what had just happened. Vargas then turned to Helen, who was standing near the apartment phone. ‘Is the landline still cut?’
Helen picked up the receiver from a phone on a desk and lifted it to her ear. She pushed a few buttons then nodded.
‘It’s dead. What’s down there?’
‘An ESU chopper. It’s been hit.’
Helen’s eyes widened. ‘What? You said they were our rescue? Were there men inside?’
No-one responded; the trio withdrew from the curtains, making sure they were fully back in place. An uneasy silence filled the room. All of them were feeling increasingly trapped and increasingly worried. This was getting worse and worse by the minute.
‘We need to talk to people outside,’ Vargas said. ‘Inside here, with no communications, we’re sitting ducks.’
She nodded at the window.
‘And they’re not getting to us any time soon.’
‘So how do we communicate?’ Barlow said. ‘The phones are dead.’
Archer turned to Helen. ‘Are there any other phone lines in the building? Anywhere?’
She thought about it. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Anything.’
‘I think there’s an old emergency line up on 22. Don’t know if it works though. Or if it’s even still there.’
‘An emergency line?’
‘It’s a fire phone, next to an extinguisher. But I don’t know if it’s connected. I don’t think it’s ever been used. It’s been there for years.’