by Ted Tayler
He needed to tidy up before the rest of the gang arrived in just over fifteen minutes. Hayden and Kelly formed an expert clean-up crew, this just one of many messy tasks they had encountered since joining up with Olympus. Kelly was already by his side handing him his kit. They got to work in no time.
Time was running out. Phoenix pressed the talk button on his walkie-talkie, “Phoenix to Finch; start the fires now. Make as much smoke as you can.”
“Check,” came the reply.
Phoenix turned to Rusty.
“Did Mellish make the call? Are they on their way?”
“He made the call; he sounded as if he’s hitting the bottle. Maybe he started before he picked up the phone. The guy on the other end was not happy,” said Rusty.
The fires in the drums at the back of the building started to blaze fiercely. Then Des Finch and his team worked on maximising the volume of smoke. The grey-white plumes of smoke soared high into a cloudless blue sky. The team felt satisfied with their work. They retreated and split up to take their defensive positions fifty to sixty metres from the outbuilding. Seconds later they disappeared from view. Their sabotage equipment would no longer be needed, so they stashed it in any spare shed or box available. The three agents were armed, locked and loaded.
Earlier in Maidenhead, Dimitar Marinov woke from a deep sleep disturbed by an insistent ringing in his ears. He had been in his own bed since just before five. Dimitar thought the person on the other end of the phone must have a death wish.
“What.” he barked.
“It’s on fire, you need to come.”
“Who is that? What’s on fire?”
Christopher Mellish had started drinking from a bottle of scotch after Rusty left him. He had opened the door to a man-mountain with a face covered in war paint. His clothing didn’t resemble those that he’d ever seen an undercover policeman wearing. What happened to the TSG and their Kevlar vests and helmets he saw so frequently on TV?
After Rusty left, he had continued drinking. He rang two or three minutes later than he’d been ordered to, he needed a few sips more reassurance from the fast-emptying bottle. Now, as he made the call, he became tongue-tied. Why didn't the fool understand what he tried to tell him?
Mellish took a swig of the scotch, then took a deep breath. He tried again.
“It’s me, the farmer from Eton Wick. At least one of your outbuildings is on fire. I can see the smoke and flames from my window. What you have inside is none of my business, but you need to move anything valuable fast before you lose it for good. Do you understand?”
The farmer heard a grunt at the other end of the line. Followed by swear words in a language the farmer didn’t understand.
“To help you out, I won’t ring for the fire brigade for another fifteen minutes. By the time they arrive, you should have had time to get your stuff clear. I’m doing you a favour, you know. If the buildings are destroyed, the insurance will help me get over the pain of losing your rent money.”
“Okay,” said Dimitar, “we’re on our way. Now get off the phone.”
Dimitar sent texts to the various gang members. He ordered Iliya Todorov to pick up four and he would pick up the rest. As he got dressed and went outside to his car, the return texts started pinging on his phone. Every one of the gang members was ready to help out; except Georgi Bonev.
“Where the hell is that useless swine?” roared Dimitar, and he thumped the steering wheel with a huge fist.
The two drivers picked up their passengers and drove as fast as they could towards Eton Wick. Dimitar and Iliya knew that although time was of the essence, they needed to get there undetected. Everyone talked at once, asking how the fire started; which outbuilding was it? Where had Georgi got to? Why didn’t he answer his phone? Nikolay Iliev called him every couple of minutes during the journey.
“Look,” cried Andrey Pantev, “is that smoke from the fire? Shit, that looks serious. What do we salvage first?”
“We need to get the weapons and ammunition away. I have money stashed there too. We can try to fill as many vehicles as we have drivers with things we don’t want firemen or coppers to find. The other vehicles we will just have to abandon. We can always get more.”
The gangsters had almost reached the farm. Dimitar Marinov thought about what the farmer said. The fire could do a lot of damage to the buildings for sure. But he didn’t have to let him know, so he had a chance to salvage things. Why do him a favour? Nobody did something for nothing; not in Bulgaria, not in Britain from what he’d experienced so far.
Marinov mistakenly jumped to the conclusion that the farmer must have started the fire deliberately. The bastard was going to claim on the insurance. Dimitar smiled grimly as he looked at the smoke still billowing over the farm at Eton Wick.
“Sorry, my friend,” he muttered, “you won’t live to enjoy the money.”
Even though it had been an innocent mistake caused by the volume of alcohol he had drunk; that last comment he made on the phone could well have been Christopher Mellish’s downfall.
Kelly and Hayden continued cleaning up the ground in front of the outbuilding. Jack Mould kept watching from his position, with his binoculars, for any sign of the gang’s arrival. He spotted the two cars moving at speed along the lane towards the farm.
“We’ve got company. Ten seconds.”
Kelly and Hayden gathered together their kit and ran for cover. The large door was still partly open. Georgi Bonev’s body lay on the dirt inside and small signs remained that a bloody scuffle had occurred. Phoenix cursed under his breath.
Any advantage of surprise had been lost.
CHAPTER 14
Phoenix rapidly reviewed the situation.
Two cars meant they had probably only eight or nine gang members left to confront. They had taken one out; that was good.
The doors to one of the outbuildings were open; that was bad. It gave the gang extra places to take cover and offered them access to any vehicles, weapons, and ammunition inside.
Phoenix wasn’t aware that Bonev had opened the doors to the building being used as a garage. Apart from the vehicles and items inside them associated with maintaining and altering them, there was nothing particularly useful to the gunmen.
The building next door held the arms, cash and other items that Dimitar Marinov desperately needed to recover. The plan Phoenix and Rusty put together had been to let the gang park; wait for them to get out of their vehicles and once the leader was identified, ‘Jelly’ would deliver his speciality. Two taps to the head from his hide one hundred metres away in the trees on the edge of the property.
From that distance, he could have taken the wand from the hand of a fairy on top of a Xmas tree. Jack Mould always said that provided he saw the merest twinkle of the star, it was history.
The plan had been for Des Finch and his two agents to clamber onto the roof so that they appeared above and behind the gang; then, with the firepower of the Phoenix team at the front, they hoped to finish the job quickly.
Phoenix and Rusty always prepared a Plan B. No worries, they had to slug it out for a few rounds with these gangsters before delivering the knockout blow.
After the quick dash from the outbuilding, Kelly Dexter prepared for her next role in today’s action; she unpacked two drones and made ready to launch them. The drones would provide camera shots of the gang’s positions and this would aid agents on both sides of the buildings.
Hayden Vincent’s task was taking part in the firefight. Kelly would be held in reserve and only brought forward if things got sticky. If the gangsters took out both her drones, then she would pick up her weapons and join the fight. Kelly was ready for whatever the next few minutes might bring.
Rusty watched the cars drove through the gate. The lead car shot past the open door of the first building. The second car spun around in a tight circle so that the car pointed back towards the gate. When the driver’s side of the car blocked the gap, the driver and his passengers exited the car
on the driver’s side and Rusty counted four men darting through the door. They quickly ran inside and hid from view.
The lead car executed the same turn by the second outbuilding. The driver got out and went to unlock the doors.
“Do you have a headshot?” Rusty asked Jack.
“Negative; the height of the vehicle and the driver’s door being open is blocking my line of sight,” replied Jack Mould.
The drones buzzed overhead. The man in the doorway looked at the sky.
“OK, Des, get busy with those ropes; two and one. Good luck,” Phoenix ordered
Des Finch sent an agent to the further outbuilding to start climbing. He and his colleague began to get to the top of their building, one at either end leaving the still smoking bins doing their now pointless job in the middle.
The driver who Phoenix had identified as the gang leader was inside the barn. The door was open, but the gap was minimal. The three remaining occupants started getting out to join him via the driver’s side.
“Jack? Leave your position and come forward. We’ve lost the chance to cut the head off the snake. We need more firepower closer to the action now,” said Phoenix.
“Check. I’ll have to break cover from this stack of trees. I’ll be visible to the enemy for four to five seconds until I find another hiding place in the old milking parlour. A little cover would be appreciated.”
“No worries,” said Rusty. “As soon as anyone pops their head out of those buildings we’ll give them something to occupy them.”
Dimitar Marinov had sensed trouble immediately he spotted the open door. There was what appeared to be remnants of blood spatter. Someone had tried to clean it off. He barked orders to the men in his car. Nikolay Iliev phoned Todorov and told him what to do. Both car drivers lined their vehicles up for the gateway to make a rapid escape.
Once both groups of four gangsters got inside the two buildings it was clear, there was no fire. There had never been. Certainly not inside any of the buildings. Todorov told his boss that Georgi was dead. His throat had been cut.
“Professional job,” he added.
“It must be SAS,” said Dimitar, “the UK police don’t kill anyone with a knife.”
“What do we do, boss?” asked Todorov.
“What we do best,” replied Dimitar, “we fight.”
Dimitar Marinov ordered his men to begin arming and take up defensive positions. Andrey Pantev was ordered to lead the way, heavily armed and providing covering fire so that Nikolay could move weaponry next door for the others. Konstantin Hristov and Dimitar would stay screened by the car in the doorway to spot the attackers as they began shooting and give extra covering fire.
“If I get a spare second boss, I’ll give those buzzing wasps up there a burst from my Uzi,” growled Hristov, “they’re not doing my hangover any good.”
“At least, you got more than two hours sleep,” replied Dimitar grimly as he stared across the open ground towards the other farm buildings and the wooded areas beyond them.
“And so it begins,” said Phoenix as he saw the two men burst from the furthest building. It was obvious what they planned to do.
Kelly Dexter checked the camera shots from her drones as they buzzed to and fro in front of the buildings. If she sent them over the tops, the gang couldn’t fire at them and she could take the opportunity to confirm the London team’s progress. Once the shooting started, there would be little time to have conversations via walkie-talkie.
“Three on top, Phoenix,” she relayed to her leader.
Phoenix ordered Jack and Hayden to keep the leader and his buddy busy while he and Rusty would try to take out the two running to the first building. During the first shots, Marinov was wounded, shot in the left wrist. Hristov hammered away with his Uzi, spraying in short bursts across the wide patch of ground that the supposed SAS men occupied.
Rusty and Phoenix successfully pinned down the two gunmen. As Andrey Pantev reached the back of the car by the open door, a hail of bullets penetrated the wall surrounding him; he was hit, but he reached relative safety. He crawled behind the car’s rear wheel. Nikolay wasn’t so lucky. He stopped running when Pantev fell and Rusty opened fire. Nikolay died instantly
Des Finch and his partner slid in a controlled fashion down the sloping roof above the doorway of the first building. They had secured the high ground, but it wouldn’t stop the guns reaching the men inside the building.
“One dead; one injured,” said Rusty.
“Des,” said Phoenix. “Make sure that gunman is finished; then stop anyone inside getting out to retrieve the weapons.”
“Got it.”
Des Finch decided to abandon the roof, and both men rappelled down the side of the building on the far west side. The remaining agent on the rooftop of the other building descended to the floor on the east side. He remained hidden, awaiting orders from Phoenix as to the exact position of the two men just around the corner.
Dimitar was still able to fire his weapon. Hristov kept a steady stream of bullets heading towards the Olympus positions. That annoying buzzing noise again overhead needed sorting out. Kelly Dexter was re-positioning her drones to pinpoint the enemy positions.
Hristov fired on the drones and hit one. Kelly Dexter aborted her mission and landed the other drone. She relayed the latest sightings to Phoenix and picked up her SA80 rifle and waited to be invited to join the action.
Phoenix kept watching the gunman behind the wheel of the car. He was badly wounded; so far nobody attempted to come out to help him indoors. Suddenly Phoenix spotted movement.
“Look out for the car, Des,” shouted Phoenix.
Todorov had crept to the door of the car. He reversed it to where his friend Nikolay lay dead. Guns and ammunition on the floor by his body. Five seconds later Todorov jumped out and quickly gathered up the vital equipment. If Dimitar and Konstantin got to them, they still had a chance of getting out of this mess. He looked at his friend’s body riddled with bullets and vowed to avenge him.
Des Finch and his partner ran around the side of the building. They became the first Olympus casualties as Andrey Pantev somehow lifted his body from the ground when he heard them approach. He was still able to fire his Uzi despite his terrible injuries. At that distance, he practically cut the agents in half.
Hearing the awful noise, the agent at the far east end of the fight arena rounded the corner of the outbuilding. Two gangsters in front of him fired at will towards the Olympus agents in front of them. He opened fire.
Both Hristov and Marinov were hit. The two men managed to crawl back inside the building. The agent received a hit too and slumped to the floor with his back against the wheel of a tractor. He could not see the gunmen who had left his building. The cars screened them from him. He could see two bodies in Olympus gear at the far end of the first building. What a bloody mess, he thought before he passed out.
Todorov edged forwards. The car took lots of bullets but he was close enough. Andrey Pantev was still breathing but Todorov knew the enforcer didn’t have long, minutes if not seconds to live. Todorov eased the Uzi from his grasp and beckoned for Boris Tsankov to help retrieve the weaponry he’d collected.
“Phoenix to Finch Squad B; we’ve got casualties at both ends of the buildings. Bring your medical team and firepower forward now. It’s time to end this.”
The remaining nine London agents moved forwards from their reserve position. As they neared the ground behind the outbuildings they saw ropes, smoking fires but no sign of their colleagues. The group split into sections of three. One group went left, one right, and the others waited for further instructions.
Inside the outbuilding, the two gangsters assessed the damage. Dimitar Marinov was a tough cookie; another couple of flesh wounds.
“Konstantin, are you still able to fight?”
“Yes, boss, it’s just a through and through; I’ve known worse.”
“Can you take two Uzis? I can only fire one gun. I’ll take an Uzi too a
nd we’ll try to get to the others. Anton and Boris will be feeling left out.”
Both men tried to laugh, but it hurt too much.
“Did you remember to pick up the cash you stashed here, boss?” asked Konstantin Hristov.
“I’ve been busy,” said Dimitar, “why do you want me to order a takeaway?”
This time, they laughed despite the pain. Both men knew the score.
They got to their feet with a struggle and collected as much ammunition as they could carry. Dimitar put a pistol in his belt and picked up one of the dozen submachine guns they had in their arms cache. Hristov lifted two to waist high and nodded.
“No problem. Let’s go,”
Phoenix watched and waited.
“Two thugs leaving the furthest building heading for their friends. Jack and Hayden, can you move forward and take them out? Rusty and I will give you covering fire.”
“Yes, boss,” called Hayden.
The two men emerged into the open and started to zig-zag their way to new positions of safety. Rusty and Phoenix opened fire on the open door. As he heard the sudden increase in the shooting Andrey Pantev struggled to raise his head, but he was finished; a few seconds later he breathed his last.
Jack Mould and Hayden Vincent lay in the prone position with the scopes on their rifles homing in on the running Marinov and Hristov. With the injuries they carried and the gear, their running appeared laboured and both men stumbled more than once. As they reached the doorway. Hayden Vincent had a head in his cross-hairs. He squeezed the trigger and Konstantin Hristov fell; his two Uzi’s blazing away wildly in all directions. For a few seconds, it was deathly quiet.
The agents at the rear had moved forwards stealthily and at the east end of the farthest building, the team of three found their wounded colleague. He had been hit several times but he would make it. Two agents moved him away to the rear of the building and treated him. The other agent trained his gun on the two doorways, Nobody in his line of sight ahead of him was still breathing.
