Code Name Firestorm by Simon Cheshire

A suspect had been identified, and tracked to an address in London, owned by a relative of his. An aunt, I believe.”
    “Where did this information come from?” said the prime minister.
    Drake smiled to himself. “For the moment, sir, that must remain confidential. But the intel is good. I’d like permission to override … whatever this secret SIA section is called, and launch a full-scale raid on the address in question.”
    The home secretary turned to the prime minister on the other screen. “It’s your call, Prime Minister.”
    “Why haven’t the SIA come to us with this?” asked the prime minister. He turned to Drake. “More to the point, why didn’t you take this to the section heading up the investigation?”
    “Forgive me, sir,” said Drake smoothly, “but officially I don’t even know they exist, do I? Time is a factor here. Far quicker to come directly to you than to waste hours arguing about who should do what and when. We have to act fast.”
    The prime minister shifted nervously in his seat. “Yes, I see. You’re sure of your facts? This raid will end the Firestorm threat?”
    “I am absolutely certain of it, sir,” smiled Drake.
    “Very well,” said the prime minister, “thisFirestorm business is an emergency. The world is looking to us for results. We’ll sort out the protocols later. Get it done.”
    “Yes, sir,” grinned Drake.
    “Right, you have your orders, Mr Drake,” said the prime minister. “Carry them out.”
    “Yes, sir.”

6:20 p.m.
    “Interesting,” said Nero. “Detailed sensor sweeps of this garage reveal that Blackwater has got hold of some classified MI5 equipment. Drake must have given him a number of gadgets, which he’s adapted, added to and built upon. He’s created his own, more advanced, devices out of existing technology.”
    “I think the phrase Agent J used earlier today applies here,” said Morph. “Curiouser and curiouser.”
    The robots were still safely hidden inside the speaker. Nero had now managed to cut Herculesfree of the circuit he’d been fused to. The broken stag beetle lay on his side, his legs curled up beneath his body.
    Henry Blackwater was clattering around the garage, loading gadgets, papers and tools into a large metal trunk. As usual, he was muttering endlessly to himself.
    “He doesn’t trust Agent Drake,” said Nero. “He suspects that Drake may betray him to the authorities.”
    “We know for ourselves that Drake isn’t trustworthy,” said Chopper.
    “Blackwater is probably preparing to put his Firestorm plan into effect, no matter what Drake says,” said Nero.
    “Right, stuff packed…” muttered Blackwater to himself. “Now then, let’s see what happened to this speaker.”
    “Alert,” said Chopper. “Blackwater will find us as soon as he opens up the back of the speaker. Sabre, prepare a memory sting. He must not be allowed to discover that we’re robots.”
    “Logged,” said Sabre calmly. “Flight path calculated. I’ll fly out as soon as there’s a gapwide enough for me. When his recent memory has been wiped, I’ll also inject a freezer sting. Then he’ll be immobilized.”
    “The Firestorm plot will be at an end,” said Nero.
    “All we’ll need to do is get out of this garage and contact HQ,” said Morph. “Blackwater will be captured, and we’ve gathered enough evidence to have Drake arrested.”
    “Get ready,” said Chopper.
    Blackwater sat on a tall stool in front of the table. He pulled the speaker and a set of screwdrivers closer to him. Then he reached across and grabbed a long pair of thick black rubber gloves. He pressed a sequence of keys on his PC.
    Suddenly, there was a hum of power. A shimmering transparent dome slowly appeared over the speaker.
    “It’s a containment field,” said Chopper, “very similar to the one used in the SWARM laboratory, when that briefcase was opened this morning.”
    “Then we’re trapped,” said Morph. “Sabre won’t be able to get out to