Soft Target 04 - The 18th Brigade

by Conrad Jones

  The passenger door opened and the cold night air swept over him clearing his fuddled mind for a second. His head hurt. Jay fumbled about on the seat looking for his cell phone, as instinct told him he had to contact the Brigade.

  “Armed police! Put your hands above your head or we will shoot you, do it now!” the policemen were surrounding the vehicle, one at each door and two pointing Glock-17 automatics through the windscreen. Jay tried to put his hands up in the air, but they wouldn’t move. He was still facing the driver, although he knew that he needed to look at the policemen, he couldn’t move his neck.

  “Move and I`ll spray your brains all over that windshield,” the closest policeman snarled. He fastened a steel handcuff around Jay`s left wrist. Jay was too dizzy to resist. He felt a warm trickle of blood running from his forehead into his eyes.

  “Get your hand over here,” the policeman shouted and roughly shook Jay. Jay felt wobbly and nauseous. His body slid down slightly and his head rocked backward onto the headrest. He was now facing the windscreen and could see the armed policeman to his left out of the corner of his eye. The policeman stared at him and lowered his gun.

  “Keep very still,” the policeman said. Jay detected a change in the policeman`s tone, but it didn’t register why. He isn’t shouting anymore, he thought.

  His right hand was cuffed to the left one in front of him. They flopped in his lap when the policeman let go of them. Jay was aware of a warm wet sensation around his groin area as urine soaked into his trousers. He knew that he was pissing himself but couldn’t do anything about it. Jay wanted to move his hands but he couldn’t. The policemen pulled the driver from the van and held him face down in the grass. Jay could hear harsh directions being shouted to him as he was cuffed and then searched. The policeman next to Jay opened the glove box.

  “There`s a nine millimetre in the glove box serge,” Jay heard the policeman shout. He tried to focus on the gun but his head felt strange.

  “Keep still mate, don’t try and move,” the policeman said.

  Jay was aware of several bodies being close by to him, coming and going. He thought he`d heard someone being sick, a distinct retching sound and then vomit splattering on the grass. The urine on his trousers was starting to cool, making him feel uncomfortable and cold. The Welsh mountain air had a bite to it. Jay wanted to turn the heater. He wanted the radio on too, but he was feeling concussed.

  He wanted to speak but couldn’t. Jay felt more blood soaking into his eyebrows, and it felt like something lumpy was sliding over his skin. Like rice pudding he thought, strange because the sensation made him feel hungry too.

  “There`s an ambulance on the way,” a voice said. Jay wondered who was hurt, probably the driver.

  “Better get one of our boys to give it an escort, he`s in trouble,” another voice said.

  “There`s identification in his wallet, his name is Jay Blythe, he`s an officer in the 18th Brigade, a mercenary.”

  Jay knew his wallet had been in the front pocket of his trousers. He thought it was funny that he hadn’t felt them take it out. A blob of something gooey plopped onto his cheek and he tried to look at it. His hands wouldn’t move and he was straining his eyes to look at the greyish blob on his cheek.

  “You better find out where that ambulance is,” a voice close by said.

  “Fucking hell, take it out,” someone else said.

  “Don`t touch it, you`ll kill him,” another voice said anxiously.

  Jay wondered who they were concerned about, and he wondered why they hadn’t pulled him out of the van yet. The driver had been dragged away kicking and shouting. One of the police cars sped away from the scene with its lights flashing. The blue strobe light lit up the interior of the van momentarily. He thought it was odd when he saw his reflection in the glass. It looked like there was a man with a mobile phone stuck in his forehead. Grey brain matter oozed around the handset and dripped down his face. Poor man, Jay thought as he died.

  Chapter Fifty Three

  RAF Valley/ Anglesey

  The Chinook bumped on to the helicopter landing pad at RAF Valley and the engine noise started to subside as the pilots slowed the rotors ready to stop. The airbase was the home of advanced flying instructors of 208-squadron, and tactical weapons experts in 19-squadron. It was also less than ten miles by road to both South Stack and the old quarry leading up to North Stack. The big doors slid open and the Regiment men stood to disembark. Waiting on the tarmac were the data analysts from the Terrorist Task Force, Chen, and their information guru, David Bell, affectionately known as the fat controller.

  Brief greetings were exchanged as the crisis unit were ushered into a low roofed building close by. Inside the building was lit by harsh fluorescent tubes. There were two lines of plastic chairs set out into semi-circles, facing a tripod which held a large flipchart. The Regiment soldiers and Task Force members took their seats in silence, as everyone was feeling the pre-mission nerves which kick in before any big operation.

  The fat controller walked to the flipchart and turned the first page. Beneath it was a blow up section of an ordinance survey map of the mountain. He was wearing his trademark suit and tie, which made him stick out like a sore thumb amongst all the combat clothing. His trousers were altered to fit his round figure, and they were pulled up well above his bellybutton in an attempt to appear slimmer. He took off his spectacles and polished the lenses with his tie before replacing them.

  “I`ll keep this brief as time is of the essence,” he began. “Satellite information shows us that as of an hour ago there were two people in the target building.” He pointed to Rashid Ahmed`s mountain residence.

  “There were five x-rays positioned along this cliff line, we`re assuming that they`re sharpshooters, and half a dozen or so x-rays below the cliffs on or around this access road.”

  “So there`s no one monitoring an incursion across the mountain itself?” the SAS leader asked.

  “As of an hour ago it was unguarded,” the fat controller kept caution in his voice, an hour was a long time when you were surveying a possible target, and assumptions got people killed in this line of work.

  “That`s excellent, any joy with the acquisition of a Unimog?” Tank asked. The Unimog was a military vehicle that looked like a cross between a tractor, a dump truck and a troop carrier. The wheels are six feet tall and have tyres that look like they could climb up a building. The huge ground clearance beneath the truck meant that it was equally at home up mountains as it was crossing deserts or ploughing through jungles and rain forests. They also run almost silently, and are the state of the art vehicle for transporting Special Forces close to their targets when helicopters couldn’t be used.

  “Our friends in the Royal Air Force have donated us two of theirs, on the assumption that we return them undamaged of course,” the fat controller joked.

  “Of course, we wouldn’t want to upset the Ruperts would we,” Tank said laughing. Rupert was the not so flattering nickname used by soldiers for air force officers.

  “Okay, that puts Grace Farrington and her team here at South Stack, covering the Regiment`s withdrawal, should anyone be persuing you back across the mountain,” the fat controller carried on the briefing in a light hearted vein, last minute nerves often materialised as humour.

  “My team will be here covering the exit from the quarry, and that`s where we will remain unless we see muzzle flashes coming from below the cliff line, in which case we`ll presume that you are in trouble, and we`ll move into the quarry flanking the railway embankments,” Tank ran his finger down the old railway line. He didn’t envisage having to move into the quarry. To do so would definitely result in the loss of life. It was clear that Brigade snipers were covering that area in order to protect their primary. It was a standard close protection technique to surround your primary with a ring of steel, or in this case a ring of 7.62 millimetre high velocity sniper rifles. The plan to extract Rashid Ahmed revolved around sneaking in the back door across the mountain
and taking him from under their noses.

  “Don`t underestimate the Brigade men, they`re no mugs, but I`m expecting to be in and out in no time, without alerting those snipers. It appears they`re positioned to defend against an incursion up the mountain, not across it,” Chen added pointing to the cliff line.

  “That`s it, any questions before we leave?” Tank asked. The room stayed silent and the soldiers stood in unison ready for action.

  Chapter Fifty Four

  Omar

  Constable Thomas shivered as a blast of wind came off the Menai Straits and chilled him to the bone. He swore under his breath as he carried a triangular traffic warning sign down the dual carriageway and placed it fifty yards behind the Brigade van. The van had been left on the grass verge where it stopped when the police interceptors forced it from the road. Constable Thomas arrived at the scene to coordinate the traffic, and was caught up in a maelstrom of different law enforcement agencies that were tripping over one another to take charge.

  The armed response units were trying to maintain control because someone had been killed during their operation, and because weapons had been retrieved. Internal affairs were sniffing around because a civilian death had been caused by the armed response unit running a vehicle off the road, armed or not, a fatality was a potential media nightmare for the police force. The crime scene investigator on call that night had taken a quick look over the scene and decided that nothing could be done until first light. The traffic police were there to ensure that the coast road remained open, and no further accidents were caused by the police activity.

  The chaotic scene that confronted him when he arrived had soon been transformed into an abandoned van, some flashing lights and one lowly police Constable left to oversee it until the morning.

  “How the fucking hell did I get to draw this duty?” Constable Thomas asked himself. The wind blasted again freezing him to the core. He blew into his hands trying to warm them up, and rubbed them together vigorously.

  “I`ll tell you why you got this duty shall I, because you breathalysed the Mayor, that`s why. You bloody idiot, you could have let him go, given him a lift home so that he wasn’t a danger to anyone else, but oh no, not Constable Thomas, he knows best doesn’t he. Let`s nick the Mayor and see what happens to your career,” he answered his own question and began to remonstrate himself out loud. There was a role of yellow crime scene tape stuffed into his pocket, and he removed it and began to tape off the area to prevent unwanted intruders contaminating it.

  “The crime scene team will be there first thing in the morning officer Thomas, can`t do anything in the dark can they, so you`ll be responsible for the vehicle until they arrive Constable. Well thanks a fucking bunch sergeant sir, responsible for an abandoned van up on the coast road, in the middle of bloody nowhere, fucking marvellous,” the policeman ranted at himself in the darkness, only the flashing warning lights offered any illumination.

  He stuck a five yard length of yellow tape between two striped traffic cones, and then snapped the tape with his teeth. The headlights of a vehicle twinkled in the distance. It was heading in his direction. The incident with the Brigade van had closed the dual carriageway down to just one lane.

  Constable Thomas had parked his police car behind the van, leaving the blue lights flashing as a warning to approaching traffic. The last thing he needed now was someone running up the arse of his vehicle in the dark. He was in enough trouble as it was since he had inadvertently arrested the local Mayor for drinking and driving. The Mayor was related by marriage to the Chief Constable, who had taken great pleasure in making sure that he got every shitty job that there was to do, and some.

  The oncoming vehicle slowed as it approached. The driver and his passenger were swan necking the accident as they passed. They waved at the lonely Constable before speeding off into the darkness.

  “Goodbye, had a fucking good look have you? Why don’t you stop and take a fucking picture? Pity you weren’t here earlier there was some poor bloke with a mobile phone stuck in his head, you could have had a good look at that couldn’t you?” Constable Thomas shouted after the vehicle, knowing full well that they couldn’t hear him anyway, but venting his anger made him feel better.

  “I`m Constable Thomas by the way, once a fucking Constable always a fucking Constable, that`s who I am. Responsible for this entire crime scene I am, instead of catching criminals I`m catching a fucking cold,” he kicked the base of a traffic cone hard, only to find that it was full of heavy sandbags. He stubbed his toe painfully which led to another tirade of abuse being hurled across the dark lonely coast road. The constable hopped to his vehicle and opened the door. He needed to climb inside out of the piercing wind for a while. Headlights lit up the interior of his car as he slammed the door closed and reached for his cigarettes. The vehicles slowed as they approached, and one seemed to stop just for a moment. He lit his cigarette and drew in deeply on the comforting smoke. One of the vehicles passed at a crawl and two black males stared into his vehicle. One of them nodded and grinned at him. The constable grinned back bitterly and waved.

  “Hello, and fuck off,” he said still smiling. The hatchback indicated to move left and pulled over on to the hard shoulder twenty yards in front of the abandoned Brigade van.

  “What are you playing at you silly fuckers?” he said under his breath as he reached for his hat. Now he was pissed off. He couldn’t even finish a cigarette in peace and quiet. Constable Thomas opened the door of his police car and climbed out of the vehicle. He put on his hat and angrily tossed the burning cigarette away, red sparks flickered from the end of it as it landed on the dark tarmac and the wind hurtled it across the road. A second vehicle passed at a crawl, and the policeman noted the occupants were black too. He was about to become concerned when a crushing blow to the back of his head ended his torment.

  Chapter Fifty Five

  The Quarry

  “Hello Sergeant,” Terry Nick said as he cocked the Remington.

  “Terry?” Mel Hickey said straining to see in the darkness.

  “What brings you all the way down here Sergeant?” Terry asked sarcastically.

  “Oh, I don’t know, I`ve always liked the sea, and the mountains. I can`t say I`ve come to stretch my legs now can I, because I lost them working for you. What about you Terry, are you here on business or pleasure?”

  “I think you know why I`m here Melvin, and you left your legs in Iraq because you let your guard down didn’t you Sergeant. You came home Melvin but your men didn’t, so whatever it is you think you`re going to achieve here you need to forget it, turn around and go home,” Terry stepped closer to the white haired veteran, still pointing the shotgun at his chest.

  “I don’t know what you mean Terry, how could I be of any harm to anyone?” he tapped his metal legs.

  “You did a lot of damage with your little stunt at Westbrook Sergeant, pity you killed his missus instead of him though. Just another Sergeant Hickey fuck up to add to all the others really, Nisour Square, and then losing all your men along with your legs, and to top it all you blew up the wrong person with an improvised roadside device, well done. You`ve caused me no end of trouble. Did you think you`d start a war on Islam all by yourself, a one man crime wave evening things up and settling a few scores?”

  “Like I said before, I don’t know what you mean. I wanted to see you about some compensation that`s all,” Mel said with an acid tone.

  “Of course you did Sergeant. Well here is your compensation,” Terry shook the shotgun for effect. “Now get back into your car and go back to the funny farm until you calm down. You have no idea what you`re stepping into.”

  “What, after I`ve driven all this way, that`s not very nice is it Sir?”

  “Last chance Sergeant, leave now. I don’t have the time to fuck about with you right now,” Terry stepped closer still.

  “I wouldn’t come any closer to me if I were you, or you could end up with a pair of legs like mine if you`re not careful,” Mel
took his hands from his pockets and revealed an electric key fob. A tiny red light glowed in the darkness.

  Terry Nick stepped back instinctively, realising that Sergeant Mel Hickey had wired his vehicle up to explode at the press of a button. The snipers behind had been watching events closely and one of them tried to buy the Brigade leader a few seconds. He flashed a powerful laser sight directly into the albino Sergeant`s very sensitive eyes. Mel Hickey cried out in pain and instinctively put his hands to his eyes to protect them from the piercing laser. At the same time Terry Nick pulled the trigger and the Remington roared. The EREMP round smashed into the sergeant`s chest, knocking him clean off his prosthetic feet.

  Chapter Fifty Six

  Constable Thomas

  Constable Thomas thought about his estranged wife for the first time in years. He hated the bitch, or that`s what he had convinced himself that he thought. The truth was very different. They had married when he was just a few years into the job, a young and enthusiastic policeman with great expectations. His ambition then was to become a sergeant in the uniformed division, earning his stripes and the respect of his peers through hard work and determination. The next step would be a secondment into the Criminal Investigation Department before becoming a full time plain clothes detective.