by Ian Redman
“HERE THEY COME! PREPARE TO ENGAGE!” As Piper shouted his order, all hell broke loose, the explosion ripping away the very fabric from the front of the Safehouse as its occupants took cover. Splinters and debris crashed everywhere, the dust making vision difficult, except for one man. Tracer fire scythed across the hallway. It was a muffled sound as Piper and his team wore their earphones, deadening the sounds of combat, but the concussive effect from the blast itself was intense, and deafening!
Communication was impossible. The gunshots upstairs could not be heard, nor the screams of the two Dutch police officers. Although they had managed to kill one grenadier, they were not prepared for such a brutal attack, both men losing their lives within seconds, the speed and efficiency of the roof assault taking them by complete surprise.
As the shattered front entrance of the Safehouse gave way to an intense attack, tracer hit a grenadier square in the chest area of his body armour. He hurtled back into another of his colleagues, while two others kept firing. “GIVE ‘EM HELL!” shouted Van Burren. She fired again, this time the rounds from her M16 smashing into the grenadier’s skull, splitting his brain in two. More firepower! More screams! More blood! The assault felt like it was all around them.
Martin Roemer yelled as he fired off several rounds, not from fear, but from anger. He found his target! Another grenadier fell to the floor, screaming in agony, his kneecaps blown away.
With his blood red vision, Piper scanned around the hallway and ran to the stairs. In the cacophony of sound now assaulting everyone’s ears, Nikki Van Burren did not hear his heartfelt words of warning. “NIKKI, WATCH OUT!”
Too late! The enemy came down the stairs, hurriedly!
Piper fired, the M16 spitting flame and death. The first grenadier was hit, but only wounded. The second, found his target. Nikki Van Burren’s chest exploded, her body blown apart and thrown against the wall. It was an assault shotgun! She didn’t stand a chance.
“BASTARDS!” yelled Piper.
Erik Karlson was taken by surprise as Jochen leapt up. “FUCKING IDIOT!” the German shouted. Kicking the MP5 out of Karlson’s hands, he smashed his heavy boot straight into his opponent’s groin. Karlson went down groaning and began to vomit. With a look of sheer hatred etched in his eyes, Jochen pulled out a large combat knife. Grabbing Karlson by his hair, he hauled him back up, quickly plunging the knife into his enemy’s stomach. As Karlson went down again, a vicious kick smashed into his head. Again, again and again! It was an orgy of blood and violence, with Jochen Kreutz relishing every second of it. “FUCKING BASTARD!” Again Jochen kicked out, savagely, mercilessly, leaving Eric Karlson brain dead within seconds.
Now, thought Jochen, I have to get away!
KILL! KILL! KILL! The Wolf craved revenge. Ash Piper leapt like no human being ever could, up the stairway, his powerful, adrenalised form lunging into the two grenadiers, smashing the butt of his M16 into the wounded terrorist’s solar plexus. Grabbing him by the throat, Piper heaved him back up to his line of sight and head butted, straight across the bridge of the man’s nose, smashing him into the second grenadier. There was a sickening crunch, the man’s nasal bone instantly piercing his brain tissue. Behind his black balaclava, the second grenadier’s eyes widened with terror. He heard the roar from Piper’s throat. Again, the butt of the M16 made its mark, straight across the man’s jaw. “YOUR TURN, SHIT HEAD!” Savagely, Piper’s knee came up into the man’s groin. He screamed, a high-pitched wail telling of immense agony. Piper’s right fist smashed into his opponent’s face, again, again and again, transforming skin and muscle into bloody jelly. Grabbing the grenadier in a fit of rage, Piper hurled him over the stair banister. He fell, screaming onto the hallway floor. He was dead on impact, his neck thoroughly broken. With his chest heaving, his body shaking in guttural rage, Piper leapt over the stairway. An acrid smell of cordite, sweat and blood now assaulted his senses. In total, seven grenadiers had been fully accounted for. He turned to Martin Roemer who had fought well, his well-placed rounds, finding their targets. But Roemer was clutching his left shoulder, his face racked in pain. A piece of glass had opened up a deep wound, probably from the initial explosion. “Are you alright for the moment?” asked Piper.
“Yes,” replied Roemer, breathing heavily, “I’m okay.”
Quickly surveying the carnage around him, Piper heard police car sirens and most importantly, the sound of helicopters. Walking briskly over to one of the dead terrorists, he leaned down and ripped the bloodied balaclava off his head. “So much for Muslim Fundamentalists! This bastard is as European as I am.” Turning around, Piper heard the whimpering voice of Michael De Groot. He had wet himself with fear.
“Seven…only seven,” whispered Piper, “an assault fire-team usually has eight members.” He looked again at Roemer who had moved to the plaster dust covered dining room sofa, or what was left of it. “Help has arrived,” Piper said quietly, his focus of attention quickly moving to the whimpering man in the corner. “De Groot, you’re coming with me, get up!” He did so.
Across the street, Monika Karlson started to tremble as she quickly walked through the mass of people gathering around the shattered building. As she watched two Dutch AH-6 helicopters off loading their Rapid Response teams, a sense of nausea overcame her. Nervously, Monika’s gaze moved from the confusion all around, to the house across the canal and up to the bedroom window where her husband was located. But something was wrong! She had tried desperately to talk to Erik on his mobile phone, but there was no reply. Oh Erik, she thought, tears welling up in her tired eyes, please be alive…please! Monika, her face now drenched in tears, looked slowly down at her mobile phone and tried once again to contact her husband.
“Red Haze, do you copy, over?” It was Colonel Mann’s voice in Piper’s ear.
“Go ahead Control.”
“Thank God you’re alright. We’ve been monitoring the attack by satellite. Your assailants were definitely professionals.”
“Agreed!” Piper moved down the smashed hallway as a medical team rushed in. He pointed to Roemer, “he needs help.” The team moved quickly and began administering first aid as Michael De Groot stood by Piper, shaking uncontrollably.
“We have three fatalities from our team Control! What about Pillow Talk One and Two, any news?”
“Bad news I’m afraid,” The Colonel’s tone was troubled, “we are presuming we have lost Pillow Talk One. We cannot make contact.”
“Shit…Control,” Piper spoke urgently, “I need to move our guest to a more secure location.”
“Affirmative. The Dutch Rapid Response Team are now on standby with you. I don’t think there will be any more trouble.”
“The information I gained before the attack, I presume it is all recorded?”
“Correct Red Haze.”
Piper grabbed De Groot by his lapel, “right, let’s get you into safer hands.”
“Yes, oh yes, thank you.”
Piper didn’t reply, he just cast another gaze around the shattered Safehouse and nodded to Roemer. Quickly, he and De Groot moved into the smashed, broken doorway of what had once been a beautiful house.
“Red Haze, we have a car waiting two streets down. Your colleague will guide you, as usual.”
“Thank you Control.”
Just a few seconds later, Nick Lucas’s voice entered Piper’s earpiece. “Okay, take the left from outside the house, then….”
Piper wasn’t listening. “SHIT!” he yelled, the hairs on the back of his neck now fully rigid.
The Sniper Rifle’s optical sight zeroed in. Check wind-speed, thought Gerhard, now, distance to target, yes, perfect! Now is the time! The whimpering man’s head was clearly magnified. It would smash open like an over-ripe melon. “Now you traitor,” whispered Gerhard Maas, “kiss the fucking birdie!”
To Ash Piper, the next thirty seconds or so seemed to move in slow motion, the wolf’s hearing deftly locating the bullet leaving the barrel and the hiss of air moving rapidly
towards him. Piper looked around. Nothing! Damn well nothing! Then he heard the sickening, squelching crack of an egg splitting open. “FUCK!” he yelled, “SNIPER, GET DOWN!” Now, for Ash Piper, chaos and confusion once again reigned supreme.
Michael De Groot’s head had exploded, his skull and brain tissue splattering across the broken brick and plaster of the front of the house, the Dutch Rapid Response Team members quickly taking cover. Nothing was worse in time of war thought Piper, than being out in the open with a sniper at large. Quickly utilising the wolf’s senses, Piper rolled to the right taking cover by a car, the USP held tightly in a two handed grip. “Just where the hell are you, you bastard?” he whispered.
Across the canal, high up on the roof of one of many houses, Gerhard Maas sniggered and zeroed in his sniper rifle’s scope once again. There, he thought, the man with dark blonde hair! A new target, he must kill him before he made his escape. “Your turn,” he whispered, “for the Fuhrer!” Instantly Gerhard’s shoulder jolted back as another round left the rifle’s chamber, the bullet speeding rapidly towards Ash Piper’s skull.
8
RED LIGHTS…RED HAZE
To Ashley Piper and the wolf inside him, the oncoming projectile immediately brought about a sense of inner terror. DANGER, MOVE, QUICKLY! Piper did so, his body dropping and rolling swiftly to the right, moving like no ordinary human being’s. Then came the cracking sound behind him, the bullet shattering plaster and brick. NOW, QUICKLY, SEEK BETTER COVER! Piper leapt up and ran to another nearby vehicle, his heart pounding, his senses fully adrenalised. “WE NEED SUPPRESSING FIRE,” he yelled to the eight newly arrived, body armoured men nearby. “THE HOUSE ACROSS THE CANAL,” Piper pointed, “WITH GREEN PAINTED GUTTERING! THE SNIPER’S ON THE ROOF!”
Sergeant Jan Vinke of the BBE, Dutch Counter Terrorist Unit spoke through his Com-Link, his voice calm, assertive, “you heard the man, suppressing fire!” Weapons were raised and spat lead. People screamed and ran.
Keeping low, Piper ran across to the Sergeant whilst speaking directly to CEATA Headquarters, “Red Haze to Control.”
“We hear you Red Haze.” Colonel Mann’s lowered tone of voice confirmed his grave concern at this new turn of events.
“Link my communication directly with all the BBE team members, quickly!”
“You got it Red Haze!” With his glasses reflecting the bright colouring of the screen in front of him, Nick Lucas typed quickly. “Okay…you’re through! The team’s leader is Sergeant Jan Vinke.”
Piper was now at the Sergeant’s side, his clothing, face and hair still covered in plaster dust from the assault on the Safehouse, the USP gripped tightly as a hail of suppressing machine gun fire scythed across the canal. He spoke briskly, “Sergeant, we need this bastard alive. Get the choppers down. I want a marksman on each one. We shoot to maim, not to kill. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” Sergeant Vinke nodded his helmeted head in agreement. “From now on,” Piper continued, “you follow mine and a colleague’s instructions.” Again, came the nodding of the head.
“Alpha One, pick up!” As the chaotic maelstrom of suppressing gunfire continued, Vinke spoke to the first helicopter pilot, now hovering some five hundred metres above the rooftops.
“Affirmative”. The AH-6 turned smoothly to the right, its rotors whirring like a demented insect.
“CHOPPER LANDING, CEASE FIRE!” The Dutch BBE troopers were ready!
Ready for the chase of their lives!
For those same few minutes, Gerhard Maas felt a sickening feeling in his stomach. With plaster, brickwork and mortar showering him from the incoming firepower from across the canal, he dropped his sniper rifle, his breathing heavy, erratic. Fucking shit, he thought, gazing up at the AH-6 descending over to his right, his thinking now in turmoil. How could his target have moved like that? The bullet was straight on target! He should be dead, but, the way he moved, no…it’s not possible, he can’t be… ONE OF THEM!
Keeping low, Gerhard crawled quickly to the fire escape ladder set to the rear of the building, his body now shaking with both adrenaline and fear. Shit, he thought, I’ve got to get away…fast! Jochen will be waiting for me, somewhere!
As the German Neo Nazi gripped the rungs of the ladder and began sliding down to ground level, the look on his face rapidly grew to one of intense hatred and loathing. One thing is for certain, he thought, THE SHITS WON’T TAKE ME ALIVE!
“Nick, we need your help!” There was panic all around as Piper spoke to his CEATA colleague.
“No problem Red Haze, I’m already monitoring the inner section of the city. Your man is running like crazy. Get your unit across the canal and split into two groups, I’ll guide you to him.”
“Affirmative!” Piper quickly gave instructions as both AH-6 helicopters, codenamed Alpha One and Two took to the air, a marksman on each. “OKAY, LET’S MOVE!” With Nick carefully, continuously relaying information, Piper and the BBE troopers ran across the small canal bridge, their weapons reloaded and ready for further use. “Unit Two, we split from here,” he ordered, his powerful voice distinct and commanding, “follow the directional orders from our control centre. Do you copy?”
“Unit Two Leader, affirmative.”
“GET OUT OF THE WAY, OUT OF THE WAY!” shouted Sergeant Vinke, the general public running everywhere, screaming and shouting in sheer panic.
There are far too many people thought Piper, the bastard will target them, I know it! “Okay, you need to turn right, your man is heading towards the Red Light district,” Nick’s instructions were relayed with precision, “Unit Two, turn right, then sharp left…”
“Affirmative!” The gruff voice of the second unit leader crackled through the loudspeakers in CEATA’s Communications Room, his panting breath heard clearly amidst the background sounds of panicking Amsterdamers.
Worriedly, Charles Mann looked quickly across at Maurice Hertschell whose gaze was focused intently on the screen in front of him. “A pincer movement,” he said, “they’ll cut him off around the Red Light area.”
The Commander nodded, his eyes awash with troubled thoughts, for like Ash Piper now in combat in Amsterdam, he knew the terrorist could cause mayhem at any time. And that was exactly what Gerhard Maas intended to do!
“HEY, YOU,” Maas shouted in perfect English, “YOU FUCKING BLACK SCUM!”
The dark skinned man, handing out leaflets turned quickly as the noise and commotion grew nearer. “Hey man, what the hell…” his eyes opened in stark terror! The blonde haired man running down the busy, crowded street toward him had a gun, and it was pointing straight at him.
A petrified woman’s voice swiftly started the panic. “He’s got a gun. OH MY GOD! HE’S GOT A GUN!”
“STINKING, FUCKING UNTERMENSCHEN!” Gerhard Maas opened up with his SIG P226 handgun, the dark skinned man never standing a chance as his body exploded in a hideous pelting of red hot ammunition. But that was exactly what Gerhard wanted.
It was time for terror!
The man screamed in agony as his bullet-ridden body hurled backwards, crashing through a window where a scantily clad, dark-skinned lady sat behind the pane. She screamed! Further bullets passed through the man, scything into her body, cutting the petrified woman down like corn in a tornado as blood and shards of glass flew into the air.
Gerhard kept running, firing indiscriminately across the windows of the Red Light District, his targets being chosen carefully, for most were foreign prostitutes. More Untermenshen! The slaughter was brutal and shocking. Still screaming obscenities, Gerhard deftly changed his clip. His weapons were working well. Not just the SIG, but terror itself! “GET OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY,” he yelled, his body high on adrenaline, his eyes full of hatred, “FUCKING MOVE, YOU STINKING, PISS RIDDEN, FILTH!” Chairs crashed to the floor as people screamed, leaping into doorways, dropping to the floor, rolling on the ground, anything to escape the murderous mayhem now enveloping them.
“The bastard’s opening fire on innocents,” Nick’s voice was panic stric
ken.
Piper and the BBE troopers were moving quickly, and more importantly, gaining ground. For Piper himself there was no loss of stamina, no feeling of fatigue as he continued running, for at this very distinct moment in time there was only the feeling of the hunt, and the smell of the prey.
“He’s causing chaos Red Haze; you have to get to him, quickly!” Charles Mann’s icy voice intervened through Piper’s Com-link.
“THIS IS ALPHA TWO, I HAVE THE TARGET! I CAN TAKE HIM OUT RIGHT NOW, OVER!” Just over seven hundred metres in the air, the BBE marksman, perched on the right outside rung of the second AH-6, spoke clearly through his headset. “I REQUIRE CONFIRMATION CONTROL OR I’LL LOSE THE CHANCE, DO I TAKE THE SHOT?”
“NO!” Piper’s voice cut loudly through the sniper’s earpiece, “DO NOT ENGAGE ALPHA TWO! WE NEED HIM ALIVE; CAN YOU TAKE A WOUND SHOT, OVER?”
“THAT’S A NEGATIVE, ONLY CLEAR FOR THE HEAD. SHIT! I’VE LOST THE CHANCE, REPEAT, LOST THE CHANCE! HE’S MOVED DOWN A BACK STREET. OVER!”
Gerhard Maas sniggered to himself. How he loved the feeling of power, of terror, to be the one in charge of life and death! But now police sirens were seemingly everywhere, and right behind him, the man who had cheated death. No, he wouldn’t be taken alive, Jochen could not help him, he knew it; the situation was far too volatile. He would take them on alone, in the true spirit of his training, for his loyalty and honour. In the courageous traditions of the Leibstandarte, Das Reich, Totenkopf and Wiking, he would bring the war forward, to help further the Fuhrer’s cause. Yes! It was time for more bloodletting! Cafés with suitable targets, THE UNTERMENSCHEN!
Still running swiftly, Gerhard turned a corner out of the Red Light area. There, he thought, a wretched, devilish smile sitting plainly on his face…plenty of cafés!
