The Transamerica Cell: A fast paced, gripping, action adventure, conspiracy thriller, with a superb, breath-taking ending (Hedge & Cole Book 3)

by Kevin Bradley

  With his right hand, Oxley made a grab for the ring, and pulled as hard as he could. It came away from the Iraqi’s chest with ease, tearing a long piece of skin off at the same time.

  The Arab screamed in pain. The knife was forgotten about for an instant, as his eyes stared in horror at the blood pouring from the hole in his chest. A large flap of skin was hanging loose, and his nipple had completely detached itself.

  That fraction of a second was all the time Oxley needed. He grabbed his rifle, casually aimed it towards his assailant, and fired. The bullet entered the man’s jaw from underneath, and the top of his head disintegrated instantly. Oxley pushed the body to one side, took a few deep breaths, and turned his attention back to where it had been a few moments ago.

  Oxley ducked down just in time. The bullets were close. Several whistled by a few inches over his head, but most of them thumped into the wall in front of him. He was sweating, partly because it was a hot day, but also due to the adrenalin. He was on his own and pinned down. More bullets slammed into the wall.

  He was desperate for a drink. His throat was parched. He had long since used up his last water, so he would have to wait. Where were the rest of his team? They should have been here half an hour ago. He was running out of time.

  More bullets whistled overhead. This was not an unfamiliar situation for him, so he remained calm. He also knew his weapons. What he was being shot at with were RPK light machine guns. He could tell by the sound they made. They were Russian designed, first developed in the 1950’s. They were effective to a point, but in the hands of the Iraqi rebels shooting at him, not very accurate.

  He checked over the M16 rifle he had with him. Not his usual weapon of choice, but all that had been available for this mission. He looked to make sure it was still set to single shot, and took a deep breath. Jumping up straight, he rested his arm on the top of the wall, and levelled his rifle at the house where the rebels were shooting from.

  Holding his breath, his eyes were flashing from left to right. He could feel his heart pounding. This was a dangerous time. If several of the men opposing him shot at once he would be in danger. The same would be true if they had any high quality snipers in the area.

  His eyes were still searching. His heart was beating loudly in his ears. He was still holding his breath. Then there was a movement, the second floor window. A dark shape, followed by a glint of light as the sun’s rays bounced off the barrel of the machine gun. Then there was a flash from the muzzle of the RPK.

  Oxley fired once, aiming at the flash. There was a loud shrieking noise, and the man went down. It was the last thing Oxley saw before he ducked down below the safety of the wall once more.

  He nodded to himself. It would have been disappointing if he’d have missed that shot. It was only about fifty yards. The guy didn’t really stand a chance. Advanced weapons instruction and marksmanship was available to all members of Her Majesty’s intelligence services, and Oxley hadn’t missed a single lesson.

  But right now Agent Oxley was bored.

  The trip to Baghdad had been several weeks ago, and with nothing better to think about, he had been reliving the excitement of it.

  For the last three days though, he had been watching people go in and out of the elevator on the fifth floor of the Mayfair Hotel. Admittedly, they were not just ordinary men and women. No, these were high ranking politicians and businessmen, coming to meet with the Chancellor of the Exchequer – the man who effectively controls the finances of the United Kingdom.

  The Chancellor had good reasons to hold his meetings here rather than his official government residence of number 11 Downing Street. He wanted to keep the meetings secret, and certainly didn’t want the press to be snooping around.

  Agent Oxley had been assigned to protection duties for as long as the meetings went on. He was hoping it wouldn’t be for much longer. It was all pretty mundane. His previous assignment had been as part of a team which had travelled into the heart of Baghdad to extract a well-known BBC correspondent. The man had been kidnapped by a group of relatively unknown Iraqi militants. The operation had been over very quickly, and with complete success, although there had been that brief exchange of gunfire. Luckily, there had been no casualties on the British side.

  Oxley had enjoyed the experience immensely.

  His train of thought was interrupted as he heard a gentle ‘ping’ noise, and the lift door opened.

  A short man, with a light brown complexion walked slowly out of the elevator. He wore a long, black coat, well pressed dark trousers, and elegant, black shoes. Agent Oxley noticed that he had a bad limp. He must have injured his left leg at some point in time.

  ‘Can I help you sir?’ Oxley tried to sound authoritative.

  ‘Good morning. Yes, actually you can. I’m looking for room 412. I believe it’s just down this corridor?’

  The man with the limp pointed with his left hand. His right hand was holding a small tablet computer device. Oxley studied the man, taking in as much detail as he could. He had been trained to do that, of course. He thought the man was probably about sixty years old, his hands were slightly wrinkled, and there was some greyness starting to appear in his hair.

  ‘I’m afraid you have the wrong floor,’ said Oxley. This is the fifth floor, you need to go one down.’

  The man with the limp opened the tablet as he replied. ‘I’m sure it says on my reservation that the room is on the fifth floor. Let me see.’

  ‘I can assure you that you need to go down sir, the room you want is ...’

  ‘Yes, here it is, take a look, Agent Oxley.’

  Oxley was taken aback.

  For one thing, how did this complete stranger know his name? But, more worrying to him was that on the computer tablet in front of him appeared to be a video of his wife and children.

  ‘What the hell is this exactly?’ Oxley had sensed danger and quickly drawn his pistol- a Walther P99. Then he had taken a step back from the older man.

  ‘My name is Solomon. What you are looking at here is a live feed from a camera in your home. You will recognise your wife Elizabeth and your two daughters, Holly and Sarah. Out of camera shot we also have your mother, who I understand always visits your home on a Wednesday. In addition, you will also shortly see my loyal accomplice.’

  At that precise moment a man walked into view on the tablet screen. He was dressed in blue jeans and a black sweatshirt. He looked very casual, and he appeared to be quite relaxed. He had a thin, wiry physique, and some of his front teeth were missing. All in all he looked quite harmless.

  Except for one thing.

  In his right hand he carried a silenced handgun.

  Chapter Two

  ‘I need a code,’ said the man on the tablet screen.

  He was looking directly into the camera.

  ‘Thirty two,’ responded Solomon.

  The man in agent Oxley’s house nodded and moved away, out of camera shot. The headset he was wearing allowed him to listen to what Solomon was saying, although the other people in the room would not be able to hear.

  Oxley raised his pistol and aimed it directly at Solomon’s chest.

  ‘I need to know what this is all about, and I need to know right now.’

  He started to take a small communications device out of his jacket pocket.

  Solomon pulled out a hotel keycard and walked towards a room just down the corridor on his left. He swiped the card and opened the door. Clearly he knew that this room had been left empty.

  ‘Before you do anything foolish, please step inside and I will explain further. Put your gun and radio away, they are of no help to you. Come.’

  Oxley put the radio back in his pocket, but held on to the Walther.

  ‘You need to explain fast. I can alert my team with one press of a button. What are you doing with my family?’

  He tried to stay calm, but he was angry as hell inside. Who was this guy? What was he doing here? How much danger was his family in?

&n
bsp; Solomon sat down on the side of the bed. He placed the tablet next to him. On the screen the woman and the two girls sat quietly. They had now been joined by an older woman, presumably Oxley’s mother.

  ‘You’re family will be safe, as long as you do as you are told. I have only two requests of you. The first one is fairly straightforward. I need to know the home address of Agent Cole. You will know this of course, as he is a colleague of yours. I understand he works closely with the Prime Minister, which is why it appears his address is so difficult for me to get hold of.’

  He was interrupted by the man wearing the black sweatshirt who had reappeared on the screen.

  ‘I need a code.’

  ‘Seventy five,’ replied Solomon, turning his head towards the tablet on the bed.

  He looked back towards Oxley.

  ‘Yes, I had better explain that. Every sixty seconds I have to provide a specific code to my colleague. If I fail to provide the correct code at the exact time, then one member of your family will be killed. This will happen each time we fail to provide the number. Anyone can provide the code, even you. In fact you can do the next one. It’s nineteen. All I need you to do is to fulfil my two requests. So firstly, please provide me with the address that I have requested.’

  Oxley pulled out his small radio and held it up to his ear.

  ‘If you alert your colleagues, then I will not give out any more codes,’ Solomon said calmly.

  Oxley held up the Walther again and aimed directly at Solomon.

  ‘The same applies if you harm me in any way. Of course, you could shoot me and then attempt to rescue your family. However, they would all be dead within the next four minutes. Trust me agent Oxley, you have nowhere to go with this. The man in your house is very highly trained and extremely loyal to our cause. He will not hesitate to carry out his instructions. Just do as I say please.’

  Oxley was confused. He was trying to think logically, but he was struggling. He was an expert in his field, a true professional, who had managed to get himself out of all kinds of dangerous situations. Now though, he was worried, very worried. What were his options? He surely had to comply with this lunatic otherwise his family would be in danger. He knew Cole’s home address, of course. They were good friends and had trained together in the army. That was in another life though, and a long time ago.

  ‘How do I know you won’t harm them, even if I comply with your requests?’

  ‘Agent Oxley, I am a man of my word. You may not like me, but I can guarantee your family’s safety if you fully comply with my requests.’

  ‘I need a code.’

  The man had reappeared on the screen. Time seemed to be ticking away quickly. Solomon looked across at Oxley and nodded.

  Oxley moved towards the screen. He said nothing but just carefully watched the scene before him.

  The man with the sweatshirt turned towards the screen. He spoke calmly and clearly, but with a hint of menace.

  ‘I need a code, final warning.’

  Oxley stayed quiet.

  The man on the screen moved around to stand just behind the older lady. He raised his gun, jerked back the loading mechanism, and aimed it squarely at the back of her head. One of the girls in the room started to scream, just as Oxley’s wife jumped up and shouted out loudly.

  ‘No, get away from her. Help us someone, please help us.’

  She sounded hysterical, her voice turning into a high pitched screech.

  ‘Nineteen,’ shouted Oxley. ‘The code is nineteen.’ He had started to sweat heavily and there was panic in his voice. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and watched as the man on the screen lowered the gun and moved away from the older lady.

  Oxley raised his Walther P99, cocked it this time, and pointed it directly at Solomon once more.

  ‘Right, you bastard, this is how we are going to play this. You will write down the next thirty codes in sequence and pass them to me. If you don’t then I will shoot you dead right now.’

  He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a silver plated ballpoint pen. He threw it towards Solomon.

  ‘Start writing.’

  Solomon ignored the pen. He looked back at Oxley.

  ‘Nice try agent Oxley, but you and I know that won’t work. I won’t be giving you any more of the numbers. I certainly will not do so if I’m dead.’

  He laughed at his own small joke.

  ‘No, what we need is for you to comply with my requests. So firstly, what is the address please?’

  Oxley lowered his gun. He felt like a beaten man. He was an expert in problem solving. It was one of his specialities. He was a master in all areas of so-called Game Theory, where seemingly impossible situations can be satisfactorily resolved. He was well used to evaluating his options. He was also an arithmetic genius. He had taken all kinds of abuse from his work colleagues when they had discovered that he had been president of his university mathematics club.

  All of that didn’t matter now. His only option was to do as he was told. He would sort everything out once this man had gone, and his family were safe.

  He reluctantly told Solomon the full address of his friend, agent Cole.

  Solomon nodded, as he made a mental note of the information.

  ‘Now release my family as you promised.’

  ‘Ah, but you forget. I have two requests that need your action.’ A thin smile flashed across Solomon’s face as he spoke.

  ‘So what next?’ said Oxley.

  Solomon stood up and took a step forward. He leaned close to Oxley.

  ‘Next? That’s easy. I just want you to kill yourself. One clean shot to the head should do it.’

  Chapter Three

  Oxley looked like he had seen a ghost.

  ‘You must be fucking nuts if you think I’m going to shoot myself,’ shouted Oxley.

  He pulled out his radio again and pressed the ‘speak’ button. He was about to talk into the device but was interrupted.

  ‘I need a code.’

  ‘Sixty six,’ said Solomon.

  Oxley had now become enraged. He moved close and grabbed hold of Solomon by his throat, thrusting his pistol into the side of his head as he did so.

  ‘You need to release my family, right now, you son of a bitch. I’ve had enough of this. Call off your man or you die in the next few seconds.’

  Solomon said nothing, just stared back at Oxley.

  ‘Release my family, now,’ Oxley screamed.

  Solomon remained inert.

  He let go of the older man and walked slowly away. Oxley was sweating heavily and there was panic in his voice.

  ‘Ok, so you’ve had your fun. You’ve beaten me. You win. Just go now and leave me and my family alone. Please.’

  Solomon sat down on the bed and looked at the terrified MI5 man.

  ‘Agent Oxley, I am so sorry but this has only one way to end. I promise you that your family will be safe. This can be achieved quite quickly as I can simply issue what we call a “release code”. This is a three digit number and once it has been given, my man in your house will simply pack up his things and walk away. Your wife, mother, and children will be fine. I know what I ask is difficult, but if you fail to comply, then I will issue the “terminate code”. This means that your family will be eliminated. I need you out of the way as you can now recognise me, and you will warn Cole of my intentions. So please, sit down in the chair over here and do as I request.’

  Oxley was listening intently. He now looked desperate and, to his horror and embarrassment, he felt quite tearful.

  ‘Please, please, not this. It doesn’t have to be like this. Please. I will keep quiet about you. Let’s forget today ever happened. Just go on your way. Please...’

  ‘I need a code.’

  Solomon had picked up a piece of the hotel notepaper. He looked at the address at the top of the sheet. It read – Hotel Mayfair, 75 Grosvenor Street, London.

  ‘Seventy five,’ said Solomon as he spoke into the screen.

/>   He allowed himself a small smile. Well he could hardly remember a string of specific two digit numbers. No, he had only memorised the three digit codes. They were the important ones. However, Oxley would never know that any two digit number would be sufficient to keep his family safe for one additional minute.

  Solomon had picked up the silver pen and passed it back to Oxley, along with the piece of hotel notepaper.

  ‘Please write down the following. “Sorry, but I just can’t go on”. Let’s start with that.’

  Oxley picked up the pen. He was shocked and confused. What the hell was he supposed to do? He started writing, but only managed to scribble down the first word.

  He stopped writing and laid the pen down. It suddenly occurred to him that he didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to leave his family. How would they cope?

  ‘Please, not this, please.’ He looked desperately at Solomon.

  ‘I need a code.’

  ‘Ten,’ shouted Solomon quickly. He turned back to Oxley. ‘Agent, that’s the last two digit code I will reveal. The next number will be three digits. You need to decide which it will be. The ‘release code’ or the ‘terminate code.’

  ‘Please, no. I promise I won’t say anything. Please.’ Oxley was now crying. He loved his life. He would do anything to hang on to it.

  ‘Please.’ His voice was now a whisper.

  Solomon just stood and watched him. His face showed no emotion.

  The man in Oxley’s house had come back onto the screen. He looked like he was about to say something.

  The MI5 man sat down. He took a silencer out of his pocket and started to attach it to his weapon. It wasn’t easy. Tears were running down his face and obscuring his vision. Finally he secured it in place. He pushed the pistol up under his chin. He wiped his face with his free hand, and spoke calmly.

  ‘Please don’t harm my family. Keep your word. Tell them I love them.’

  The man on the screen had started to ask for the next code, but he was cut off by a muted bang. The noise reverberated around the small hotel room, but anyone outside the room would be unlikely to have heard very much. The man in Oxley’s house had finished talking. He had obviously heard the silenced shot and knew what had just happened. His face creased into a smile.