Planet Genocide I (Galaxies Collide Book 3) by Andrew McGregor Page A
Authors: Andrew McGregor
Ads: Link
intensity in the distance.
Headlights from cars moved through the darkening streets, the bright lights of a waterside restaurant sparkling across a car park below and onto the Normandy Museum, the black outline of a World War Two field gun sitting outside the entrance. Several figures in the streets below seemed nervous, moving quickly along the pavements as they headed home, their suspicions mounting. Kurt glanced round, sensing the person approach, his breath caught in surprise as the middle aged American nodded grimly, ‘What do you see?’ The man was in shorts and a T-Shirt, a Budweiser beer in one hand.
Kurt shrugged, staring back over the lights below as the siren wailed, ‘Nichts…erm, sorry…nothing. What do you think it is…why the siren?’
The American shook his head, ‘I dunno…maybe some sort of French drill…something they add for the tourists?’ The man leant forward, glancing over the thick hedge grinning as he raised his arm to point, ‘See, the Gendarmes are about…it should be ok!’
Kurt stared at the two police vehicles, one van and a car, their blue lights flashing as they sped along the main street, then he spun round, his excitement rising once more, the distant drone of rotor blades approaching from the south, ‘There is something going on…let’s see what kind of helicopters they are…perhaps a police operation?’ He stared into the American’s eyes solemnly, ‘Let’s get everyone near the vans…it may be even an anti-terrorist operation.’
The American’s grey eyes widened, realising the tourists from across the Atlantic would possibly be a high target, ‘Good idea…I am Mitch by the way…I will go and get them together!’
He stepped back as Kurt’s wife reached them, thrusting the small pair of binoculars into her husband’s hand, her eyes wide with shock, ‘What is going on Kurt? Why the noise and sirens?’ She glanced round as the throb of rotor blades got nearer, black dots appearing in the distant dimming evening sky.
Kurt shook his head, looking fondly at his robust wife, her blonde hair swept back in a bow as she warily nodded for him to talk, ‘We don’t know…maybe it’s an anti-terrorist operation…’ He indicated to Mitch, ‘Can you take my wife back to our van please…I will have a look to see if I can see something.’
The American nodded solemnly, indicating for the woman to return with him as he stared, squinting his eyes towards the black dots approaching from the south, the whir of blades getting nearer as the six helicopters broke formation, three banking sharply and heading away to the east. Mitch’s voice lowered before he went after the woman, ‘They are military…I will get the vehicles together and tell the men. I think its best we all stay in the carpark until we know more…if we leave we may head into trouble…I am sure the police will be along soon to assist.’
Kurt nodded, raising the binoculars to his eyes as he turned away, panning the glasses across the town below. He smirked to himself briefly and ironically, his thoughts not unaware of the potential historical comparison and significance of his actions.
Passing the battered intact remains of the Mulberry Harbour, numerous black armoured figures swam through the deep water, their smooth muscled and scaled frames causing little disturbance beneath the surface of the English Channel as they approached the coast, the town’s glinting lights seeming to beckon them invitingly.
2230hrs: St Petersburg, Russia:
The Russian naval sentries braced their bodies against the frozen searing gale, snowflakes swirling around their hunched figures as they stamped their feet, the bitter night temperature seeping through their greatcoats and padded combat uniforms. With thick leather gloves and facial masks, they trudged along the sea wall of the naval base, their eyes occasionally straying across onto the thick ice beneath the dense stone and steel structure.
The
Headlights from cars moved through the darkening streets, the bright lights of a waterside restaurant sparkling across a car park below and onto the Normandy Museum, the black outline of a World War Two field gun sitting outside the entrance. Several figures in the streets below seemed nervous, moving quickly along the pavements as they headed home, their suspicions mounting. Kurt glanced round, sensing the person approach, his breath caught in surprise as the middle aged American nodded grimly, ‘What do you see?’ The man was in shorts and a T-Shirt, a Budweiser beer in one hand.
Kurt shrugged, staring back over the lights below as the siren wailed, ‘Nichts…erm, sorry…nothing. What do you think it is…why the siren?’
The American shook his head, ‘I dunno…maybe some sort of French drill…something they add for the tourists?’ The man leant forward, glancing over the thick hedge grinning as he raised his arm to point, ‘See, the Gendarmes are about…it should be ok!’
Kurt stared at the two police vehicles, one van and a car, their blue lights flashing as they sped along the main street, then he spun round, his excitement rising once more, the distant drone of rotor blades approaching from the south, ‘There is something going on…let’s see what kind of helicopters they are…perhaps a police operation?’ He stared into the American’s eyes solemnly, ‘Let’s get everyone near the vans…it may be even an anti-terrorist operation.’
The American’s grey eyes widened, realising the tourists from across the Atlantic would possibly be a high target, ‘Good idea…I am Mitch by the way…I will go and get them together!’
He stepped back as Kurt’s wife reached them, thrusting the small pair of binoculars into her husband’s hand, her eyes wide with shock, ‘What is going on Kurt? Why the noise and sirens?’ She glanced round as the throb of rotor blades got nearer, black dots appearing in the distant dimming evening sky.
Kurt shook his head, looking fondly at his robust wife, her blonde hair swept back in a bow as she warily nodded for him to talk, ‘We don’t know…maybe it’s an anti-terrorist operation…’ He indicated to Mitch, ‘Can you take my wife back to our van please…I will have a look to see if I can see something.’
The American nodded solemnly, indicating for the woman to return with him as he stared, squinting his eyes towards the black dots approaching from the south, the whir of blades getting nearer as the six helicopters broke formation, three banking sharply and heading away to the east. Mitch’s voice lowered before he went after the woman, ‘They are military…I will get the vehicles together and tell the men. I think its best we all stay in the carpark until we know more…if we leave we may head into trouble…I am sure the police will be along soon to assist.’
Kurt nodded, raising the binoculars to his eyes as he turned away, panning the glasses across the town below. He smirked to himself briefly and ironically, his thoughts not unaware of the potential historical comparison and significance of his actions.
Passing the battered intact remains of the Mulberry Harbour, numerous black armoured figures swam through the deep water, their smooth muscled and scaled frames causing little disturbance beneath the surface of the English Channel as they approached the coast, the town’s glinting lights seeming to beckon them invitingly.
2230hrs: St Petersburg, Russia:
The Russian naval sentries braced their bodies against the frozen searing gale, snowflakes swirling around their hunched figures as they stamped their feet, the bitter night temperature seeping through their greatcoats and padded combat uniforms. With thick leather gloves and facial masks, they trudged along the sea wall of the naval base, their eyes occasionally straying across onto the thick ice beneath the dense stone and steel structure.
The
Similar Books
