by David Whaley
By
David Whaley
© Copyright David Whaley 2014
All characters and events in this work are fictitious, thought up by the author, portraying his own imagination.
Any resemblance to people, living or dead, are coincidental and bear no relationship.
Please also think of this principle in regards to locations, towns and structures. Most of these areas are, again, fictitious but some real places are named to help add a sense of reality to the work.
Chapter 1
The man with the briefcase, five foot ten inches in height, slim build with wavy blonde hair and dressed in an expensive grey/silver suit with matching tie, walked through the streets of the city of London. He completed similar journeys throughout most of London and blended into the crowd of professionals on their way to work whilst observing every building for access routes and ventilation points.
Finding various plausible locations, he settled on Liverpool Street. The mass of people arriving on a daily basis in consistent intervals proved the most likely to lead to objective success. This research was important and he was being extra meticulous due to the desired outcome of the plan to be implemented. That day had arrived for the United Kingdom and its government would recognise the capabilities of the exclusive group to which he was acting for, called: The British Equivalent.
On this particular cold and wet Monday morning, the people of London went about their normal day to day routine whilst making their way to work. The train was hot despite the outside temperature and he stood at the foot of the stairs embracing the people that ascended. They had no idea what was going to happen.
Joining the herd that were cramming themselves up to street level, he picked up a free newspaper from the stand just outside and he pretended to read. In actuality, he was glancing at the alley he settled on.
The commuters’ starburst in all sorts of directions and just before the next train arrived, he found his chance as the density thinned. Now or never, he thought.
Traffic was halted by a red light, the road of which he crossed diligently and with confidence, a smile on his face.
Between two large business buildings, one being a hotel and the other being a restaurant that he believed were part of the same company, was the alley in question. It was dark enough to provide discretion to his activities but not dark enough that he needed a flashlight to see what he was doing.
Towards the back of the alley was a high metal fence with a gate chained and padlocked shut but easy enough for anybody to climb over with the amount of footholds that were unintentionally present, being precisely what he did. He climbed the top and began his descent along the reverse side, the briefcase slipping from his hand.
Precious cargo, such as what was contained within the briefcase, hitting the floor with a jolt could cause him to suffer its effects with an intentional pre-release. It was still falling, his muscles tensed and his hands became clammy with such a sensitive task being compromised before his very eyes. As his heart pounded against his ribcage, he leapt from the fence taking hold of the handle once more just as the bottom grazed the floor.
He laid on his back allowing the pain caused from the fall and the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach to subside. Thanks to his reflexes, owed to his time in the army and the sporting activities he’d been involved in, he was safe. Schoolboy error, he thought to himself. Rule one, day one. Always secure the package first.
Nursing his back with a free hand, he crawled behind the industrial type bin. The only thing that could compromise him now was a member of staff coming out of the neighbour doors to dump their waste.
Next to the bin was a square, concrete and diagonally set air duct tunnelling under the hotel that had a large fan at the top. The fan served to draw air into the hotels ventilation system and was protected by a metal wire mesh cover, a perfect place to set his plan into motion.
The man with the briefcase crouched down next to the fan so the bin shielded him from the view of the public should their eyesight be good enough, when he felt the mobile phone he’d been provided with vibrate in his pocket indicating he was receiving a telephone call.
“Delta four receiving,” he answered ensuring the caller knew they had contacted the intended recipient.
“Delta four. Deltas one, two, three and five have introduced their packages. What’s your status? From Zulu leader one,” the gruff male voice enquired.
“Forty five seconds. Standby for completion, from Delta four.”
With the phone set down to his side, he placed the briefcase carefully next to it and entered a three digit code before slowly opening the lid.
Foam completely filled the interior besides two cut outs, one big and the other small. These spaces contained two items inserted to a perfect fit.
The man donned the gas mask securing the straps at the back of his head securely and gloved both his hands with the a gloves he bought from his own money as an optional precaution. Using his protected hands, he picked up a small 30ml vile of mostly cloudy liquid.
Delta four held the vile with both hands, although small, to ensure it didn’t fall and slowly unscrewed the lid by twisting it anti clockwise between his thumb and forefinger.
He glanced into the tunnel that bent out of view, the fan at the top spinning at a moderate speed.
The time has come for the world to change and, sometimes, it needs the help of people like me, he thought. This really is for the greater good.
Tipping the vile slightly into the wire mesh cover, the liquid began to trickle down the shaft, some catching on the blades but not causing a backlash. He tilted it more, easing it slowly until the entire contents were introduced, watching it travel down the tunnel and out of view.
Delta four picked up the phone.
“Delta four complete,” he said, muffling through the gas mask.
“Excellent work Deltas. Extract and report for payment at your specified locations. Confirm instruction, from Zulu leader one.”
“Delta one confirmed and out,” a muffled male voice replied.
“Delta two confirmed and out,” another muffled male voice replied.
“Delta three confirmed and out,” a muffled female voice replied.
“Delta four confirmed and out,” he replied realising he was on a conference call.
“Delta five confirmed and out,” a muffled female voice replied.
“Zulu leader one out.”
A dead tone met his ears as the call was terminated and Delta four replaced the on the lid vile before putting it back into its designated space and shut the briefcase. He climbed back over the fence eventually removing the mask before a member of the public noticed him replacing it also from where it came, stuffing the gloves inside and sealed in the briefcase.
In the final stage of his task, he palmed the mobile phone and made his way back to Liverpool Street station walking casually along with no one giving him a second look. As he passed a bin nearing the entrance to the train station, he dropped the phone inside with a soft clunk falling onto minimal rubbish that had been placed within it that morning.
Entering the station, he disappeared into the next wave of commuters to begin his journey out of the country.
Chapter 2
“On the floor, now!” said Natalie Marshall
Natalie was a police officer, proud of her status and very career motivated. It was hard not to be career motivated in her chosen occupation with the amount of sacrifices she often had to make: missed birthdays, celebrations and general nights out.
The man they were trying to apprehend had caused criminal damage to a shop window and assaulted a member of staff following an argument over pricing and a violent man he was indeed. Historically, he�
�d been arrested for an array of offences including the possession of drugs, violence, burglary and assault on police. The latter became an added offence they were trying to arrest him for.
“Get down!” said another of the struggling officers.
“Down!” said another.
Such was the difficulty in their objective, and it was considered that someone would soon be injured, Natalie pressed the emergency button on her police radio resulting in a further three officers responding to assist. Finally, with their help, Tom Claxton was detained in handcuffs on the floor.
Natalie proceeded with the formality of actually arresting Tom and he was transported to the boroughs main police station, Lakeford.
She had been a police officer with the Metropolitan Police for eight years and during her time worked in various different departments, the most recent of which was the response team in the London borough of Lakeford, borough code AO. She valued the life experience she’d gained from her time in service.
However, her dedication to ‘the job’ is what ended her long term relationship of five and a half years with Marcus Coombes, part French, who had then gone away on business to Argentina. Before this business trip, Natalie decided to end the relationship reasoning that they both wanted different things.
Marcus instigated the argument because, in her opinion, he couldn’t understand why her career was so important to her and why they couldn’t simply start a family on his say so. She often suspected that he was also jealous that she earned more than him but he argued about the amount of hours she worked, including overtime, and he failed to see how the money was helping. Inevitably, the argument always came back to her never being at home and to them starting a family.
Natalie was frustrated with the arguing, and had been for a long time surprised that it had taken this long for them to go separate ways, but she wasn’t satisfied by her decision. Too often, she saw her colleagues separate from their loved ones, some with children involved, and the silent depression that followed. She didn’t want to be another statistic in a long line of those who have ended up alone as a result of ‘the job.’
Of course, the service couldn’t be blamed and she settled on the reason being a lack of understanding of what police officers do, along with shift work and fatigue. Unfortunately, it came with the territory.
Natalie finished booking Tom into custody and continued with the arduous amount of paperwork that followed. As she completed her arrest notes with her fellow colleagues, despite everything, she did miss Marcus.
Hours later, and with writers cramp, she was finished and met up with her posted partner Daniel Sewell who had only a year’s service to his name after being a special constable for three, an unpaid version of a regular constable with all the powers. He was eager, however.
Here, they ordered food just as a crackle came out over the radio.
“A call now on an immediate response to outside 23 Chaucer Lane where LAS have been sent to a male coughing up blood. He is described as being irritable and aggressive towards his friend. A unit to assist please?”
“Should we take that?” asked Daniel.
“No. What’s everyone else doing? Besides, we’re on refs.”
Another crackle was heard following a hesitant silence
“A unit to assist on this ‘I’ graded call?”
“Standby, Alpha Oscar,” came the voice of a familiar female sergeant. “I’ll do a roll call.”
The sergeant, PS Jo Shire, then proceeded to call various officers by their call signs, all allegedly tied up with other calls or stops, until it came to them being called. This shift was reminiscent of others in similar circumstances.
“2-3 receiving, 76,” said the police sergeant.
“Damn it,” said Natalie prior to replying on the PR. “Sarge, we’ve just sat down to hot refs.”
“Yeah, I’m afraid you’re the only available unit.”
With a sigh and a muttered moan, Natalie accepted the call and withdrew their order of food.
Searching the flock of marked police vehicles in the yard to find their own patrol car, Natalie determined that they were not the only units available judging by the amount that were present. Ignoring the urge to march up to the supervisors’ office, she located their Hyundai and pulled out of the automated gates.
Natalie drove at high speeds with the sirens sounding all the way. The blue lights ignited the reflective signs on the dark night and she weaved in and out of traffic safely as per her police driver training. Daniel held onto the roof handle of the vehicle, knuckles as white as the moon whilst attempting to control his breathing.
“Off the phone!” Natalie screamed as she narrowly avoided a collision with a Megane emerging from a side road with the drivers hand to his ear. The driver was quite embarrassed that he failed to hear the sirens and see the blue lights, partially deafened by the bull horn Natalie used to exert her annoyance. The driver didn’t have to remain red faced for long as the police car whizzed by at 78mph on the 30mph residential road.
Some would say she was driving too fast, maybe due to the conditions, but she would strongly disagree partly due to the fact that she had never crashed; she has had plenty of near misses though.
Soon enough, they arrived on scene with Daniel still very much intact.
As was mostly the case, the attendance location was not accurate and it was in fact outside number 87 Chaucer Lane found by them conducting a mobile area search and seeing a rather chubby lady flailing her arms about in an effort to make herself known to the officers.
Daniel and Natalie hurried out of the vehicle having parked in the smallest of spaces, in order to prevent themselves from blocking the road, to find paramedics not yet on scene and a young male writhing around in pain. Besides the pain, he was itching his skin and moaning in tones the sound of ecstasy with blood spatters surrounding him from where he laid still coughing up blood.
Knowing from experience that the ambulance service had put themselves on standby somewhere within a 1 mile radius whilst waiting for police to arrive, Natalie transmitted a message over her PR.
“Alpha Oscar receiving 666. Can you get LAS to come forward?”
“Received. I’ll send a message up to them now.”
She knelt down besides the male in pain whilst ensuring she did’nt kneel in blood and asked for his name in a calm and soothing voice.
“Fuck off!” came the reply.
Rather than argue with the irritable male, Natalie turned to the distressed chubby female for his name hoping she was in better shape to answer. She was, but barely. Having found out his name and the fact that they were no more than friends, she momentarily turned her attention to Daniel to discover he seemed to be merely observing having no input into the situation they found themselves in.
She then focused on the male and called his name, again in a soft tone.
“Harry? We are police officers and have been c-“
“Go away!” Harry interrupted.
Natalie then proceeded her feeble attempt at conducting ‘DRS ABC’ and ‘SAMPLE,’ in line with her first aid training, and if she wasn’t being verbally abused, Harry would lash out with a clenched fist as he tried to connect with her jaw. Each attempt was unsuccessful due to Natalie strategically positioning herself to avoid such a violent outburst.
“Harry! We are here to help!” she said more assertively as she tried to get her message across. “Do you have any allergies?”
“He’s allergic to Penicillin,” his Friend advised.
“Thank you, but can you tell that to the paramedics when they arrive. I need to be able to communicate with Harry.”
Meanwhile, Daniel began to get involved failing to notice that he’d knelt in a blood pool of saliva, kneeling by Harry’s legs. Daniel correctly thought that the patient may respond better to another male’s voice.
“Harry, tell me how you’re f-“
“Fuck off!” Harry sputtered as blood projected from his mouth.
Harry shifted his position by rolling onto his side, his back to Natalie with his knees curled up to his chest.
Sirens rang out in the distance but sounding as though they were approaching also a signal of the impending arrival of the London Ambulance Service.
“The ambulance will be here soon,” said Daniel as Harry looked up at him with a mien in his eye that Natalie had seen before.
From the farthest end of the road, the high visibility ambulance appeared and sped towards them whilst Harry continued his stare fixed on Daniel, coughing less frequently as his concentration had been shifted from the pain he was in.
Natalie knew what to expect next, not quick enough to intervene.
In a flash, Harry extended both of his legs so his feet connected with Daniels abdomen and face causing more blood to decorate the ground this time from the nose bleed the officer sustained as a result.
Daniel fell onto his back where he remained in a daze until Natalie snapped him out of it.
“Well? Go on then!” she said, trying to encourage him to utilise his powers as a police officer.
Natalie took hold of the upper body, handcuffing Harry’s wrists in a front stack position and Daniel tackled the instruments used to inflict his injury whilst the paramedics, parked up and out of the ambulance, assisted by providing leg restraints. This wasn’t an easy achievement and certainly not a task they wanted to resort to considering it appeared as though Harry required medical attention, but he gave them little choice.
With the leg restraints applied and Harry restricted in his movements, Daniel proceeded to arrest him barely able to recite the caution, maybe due to still being in a daze or down to his level of service; Natalie guessed it to be the latter.
The paramedics then took control in order to assess him and decide on an initial form of treatment. They expertly lifted Harry onto their trolley, with the assistance of Natalie, and loaded him into the ambulance.
Within, Harry continued to struggle but his attempts were futile, the officers and paramedics’ conscious that he could do himself more harm whilst being restrained but it was too dangerous to remove them.
