by Jo Black
‘We are the Islamic Brotherhood of al Shabaab. We claim this life in the name of Allah in our jihad against the imperialist oppression of our brothers by the French colonialists. All those who oppose us shall be put to the sword by servants of Allah. Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!’
The man was executed with two bullets to his head before being decapitated with a sword. They stopped the recording and quickly packed up the film equipment before returning the body and severed head to the car, placing it in the driver’s seat. One of the crew doused the body in petrol before liberally coating the interior and then the exterior of the car.
Vincent finished dressing as they packed up the film equipment before walking over to where Alex was waiting.
‘You have any last words to say, it’s your funeral.’ Alex handed Vincent a box of matches to set the car alight with.
‘Cremated in a Renault. It is like a Gallic Viking’s end.’ He took a match, lit the entire box with it and tossed it through the open car window setting it ablaze.
The team returned to their cars. Alex and Vincent got into the middle car. They sped away leaving Vincent’s burning Renault behind. Vincent looked in his mirror. ‘The end of another one of my lives. I wonder how many more I must live before the end.’
64
Vane watched with discrete interest as the roller shutter door opened. ‘I think we’re on,’ he told his men over his helmet intercom radio. A pair of French police motorcycle outriders emerged. They made their way across the car park and stopped the traffic in both directions. A pair of plain cars sped out, staffed with counter terrorism officers, followed by a secure prison transit van then two more cars followed by two more police outriders. As the rear riders exited, the first two sped to catch up with the convoy and clear the path ahead. Vane nodded at his men at the end of the street to follow. As the convoy passed they pulled out of the spaces and took up pursuit at a discrete distance. The rear two riders came from the other end of the street and joined behind. Vane took out his phone and punched a short dial code. ‘They’re leaving now. En-route.’
‘We’re on our way to position,’ Alex replied.
Vane got on his bike. Pressed the ignition switch to fire the bike into life, kicked up his bike’s stand, put the bike into first gear, gave it a twist of throttle and dumped the clutch pulling out in a slide before pulling a small wheelie as he gunned the bike to speed to catch up with the convoy.
Vane’s team caught up with the convoy as it reached a congested junction. As the front police outriders shouted at obstinate French drivers to clear the junction, Vane slowly made his way alongside the convoy, filtering between the lines of traffic. He slowed as he reached the security escort and noted their numbers and weapon types before he reached the van. He tucked into the side out of sight of the front and rear car’s occupants. He watched via the front security detail’s driver mirror to check he wasn’t being observed before he quickly placed a magnetic G.P.S tracker into the rear wheel well of the van. He then moved off casually as if impeded by the adjacent cars until he reached in front, one of the police outriders noticed him and put his hand up indicating him to stop. Vane nodded in deference, the police outrider nodded back.
Sat in the rear seat of the convoy’s middle position Audi S8, Nish checked on his laptop as the G.P.S signal tracker Vane had placed fired up into life. ‘Tracker is active. Target is eighteen kilometres out, en-route.’
‘How far are we from the A.P?’ Alex asked.
‘Four point three kilometres. E.T.A seven minutes.’
The convoy continued to thread through the country back roads at speed, the Quattro all wheel drive system keeping grip through the light powdered snow over ice dusting the road with only occasional corrections from the drivers to cancel out a four wheel power drift as they rounded the corners at speed. The deep bassic hum of the 4.2 V8’s in an orchestrated concert as all three cars stayed in a perfect line, as if magnetically connected in a train, their wipers working overtime as the snow flurry picked up into a blustery squall. Alex calmly hummed a tune to himself as he drove, casually adjusting the heated seat temperature. Vincent looked across at him and smiled a little. ‘Tell me Alex, what do you want for Christmas?’
‘I already got it. She’s about five six to five seven, brunette...’ Alex gave a knowing smile and a wink.
Vane followed the convoy as it made its turn onto the AutoRoute, fighting with his bike to maintain grip as it struggled to get its power down in the cold conditions. The bikes fell back a little as the convoy pulled into the middle of the carriageway’s three lanes.
Further up the AutoRoute, Alex’s convoy reached a road bridge running over the dual carriageway. They came to a rapid halt as they reached the centre of the bridge, A.B.S working hard to bring the trio of German super saloons to a halt before the brakes steamed off the condensation, ticking cool as the engines settled to idle with a soft growl. Alex and Vincent dropped their electric windows to clear the snow that had built up then raised them before too much of the cold blast of icy air blowing down the exposed AutoRoute was sucked into the perfectly warm cabin.
‘They’re five kilometres out. Get ready,’ Nish reported.
The radio crackled and fizzed. ‘Approaching position,’ reported Vane.
‘Remember. Serbian,’ Alex replied.
Vane closed up on the convoy and started looking for targets. He turned round and made a discrete signal to his rear riders to fall back. They checked in their mirrors and spotted two articulated trucks following in the lanes behind, they began to slow to let them catch up. Vane nodded at his paired rider and they accelerated towards the convoy, lane splitting either side of it to catch up with a pair of articulated trucks elephant racing ahead. They split either side of the trucks until they were level with the rear of the tractor units. They each removed a small limpet charge from their vests and pulled in close before throwing their charges under the connecting pins to the rear trailers. The rear two riders, having slowed to let the trucks following pass, caught back up and deployed their charges in the same fashion.
‘Charges are deployed,’ Vane reported in Serbian over the radio.
‘Good job! Let’s teach these French bastards not to mess with Radic’s crew!’ Alex reported back in Serbian, hamming it up for effect.
Nish tapped in some commands on his laptop and brought up four flashing signals in addition to the main red dot tracking the van. ‘Charge’s are connected. Now one point five kilometres out. E.T.A is thirty seconds and counting down. Get ready. We are go at fifteen.’ Nish started the timer on his laptop. Vane and his partner rider fell back out of range of the trucks as the rear pair sped ahead of them. ‘We regret to inform you the road is now closed due to a serious road traffic incident,’ Nish said as he pressed the detonation command. The red lights flashed on the charges as their wireless modems received the commands before switching green. The detonation wasn’t huge, but the shaped charges were sufficient to completely shear the retaining pins from their tractors to their trailers, sending debris flying through the air hoses for the braking system’s compressor. On the snow covered road, the rear trailers quickly lost traction, swerving violently before jack-knifing into each other. In one seemingly orchestrated ballet of movement, all four trucks’ trailers collided at the same time, slipping sideways before smashing against their tractor units, the kinetic weight and wind resistance took over as they toppled over before slamming hard down into the ground — shattering their curtain frames and sending their loads across the carriageway in a huge debris field. The surprise of the impact caught several of the following drivers unaware as they skidded headlong into the debris, causing multiple accidents. Alex and the team watched from the bridge as the entire scene of mayhem and carnage unfolded a hundred metres from their position, and the front trucks slid to the base of the bridge they were waiting on. By the time the trucks came to a halt, both the fore and aft access to the carriageway was completely blocked on both sides
. Radic’s prisoner escort convoy came to an emergency stop in the middle lane of the sea of cars: penned in between the debris now blocking both exit routes. The outriders stopped at the lead car before speeding off ahead to try and deal with the problem.
‘Go!’ Alex commanded. In unison all the teams from the three Audis spilled out from their cars and onto the bridge in a line facing both the blocked ambush site and the opposite side of the bridge. The police outriders looked up to see a line of counter-terrorism officers and started calling out for their help in French. The response came in the form of a hail of precision automatic gunfire, cutting them all down where they stood. Two of Alex’s crew produced R.P.G’s and aimed them at the lead security cars. Rockets whistled down into the cars, exploding against their armoured glass windscreens. The explosion shattered the vehicles, setting them alight, as they rapidly filled up with smoke the occupants spilled out. Alex’s team opened fire pinning them behind the burning wreckage as the R.P.G’s were reloaded. ‘Finish them!’ Alex ordered in Serbian. A second volley of R.P.G’s pierced the now-shattered windshields and each of the vehicles exploded, sending the sheltering occupants flying in all directions, leaving behind several body parts en-route. In a panic, the rear security team exited their car and brought guns to bear on the bridge as Vane and his team came from behind and executed each of them with clean headshots. Vane reached the prisoner truck. His two lead motorcyclists took up flanking positions. They fired a piton gun each into the windscreen — the titanium hook piercing through the reinforced glass. They connected a steel wire to each and accelerated, rear tyre smoking as it struggled against the snow and ice covered tarmac before the bike’s sheer energy propelled it forwards, the lines tensioned and pulled the windscreen clean out of its reinforced frame. Alex’s scope equipped designated marksmen dispatched both the driver and the passenger with 7.62 rounds from their D.M.R’s that punched straight through their Kevlar vests.
Vane got off his bike.
‘Prepare for evac!’ Alex yelled at his men in Serbian. With all current threats contained, two of Alex’s men retrieved an electric portable winch from the trunk. They attached a canvas harness to it and took it over to the side of the bridge. They took out a compressed air bolt gun and fired four bolts into the tarmac to anchor it in position before throwing the line over the bridge and spooling the harness down to ground level.
Vane attached a shaped charge to the rear of the prison van as his fellow riders returned and made ready at a safe distance. Vane retreated from the door and fired the detonator. The charge blew with a bright flash, taking both rear doors clean off their hinges. His outriders quickly moved in and emptied several rounds of automatic fire into the two guards inside. One of Vane’s men handed him a high powered portable angle grinder and he jumped into the back of the van, where Radic was sat calmly, chained to a steel bench inside a locked steel mesh prisoner cage. Vane started up the angle grinder and began attacking the door lock, cutting the metal around it. Up on the bridge, Alex’s men prowled around firing warning shots at any curious motorists who came to investigate the commotion, sending them quickly scurrying for the cover of the embankment bushes. Vane completed the cut and yanked the door open around the disconnected lock assembly. He quickly entered and set to work on Radic’s chains, first disconnecting him from the floor, then the chains connecting both feet and arms together. Once freed, Vane grabbed Radic by the scruff of his overalls and dragged him out of the van, throwing him towards his two waiting colleagues. They quickly dragged Radic to the harness dangling under the bridge then attached him. Alex nodded at the winch operator. He pressed a button and the winch quickly hauled Radic up onto the bridge. Alex gave Vane the thumbs up. Vane acknowledged and signalled his men to evac. They ran to their waiting bikes as Alex’s men bundled Radic into the back of the middle Audi. The remaining team covered Vane’s men below as they powered up their Super Motos then made their way up the banking towards the exit of the bridge, sending plumes of snow in their wake as the tyres span looking for grip on the incline.
‘Evac!’ Alex ordered. ‘Let’s go!’
Alex’s crew on the bridge folded back into the cars and got in. Alex punched his Audi into drive and floored the throttle, all four wheels spun up as the differentials worked to find the optimum grip to each wheel before all three of the Audi S8’s propelled forwards. As they passed them, Vane and his men folded in behind Alex’s convoy. They reached the end of the lane and executed a wide four-wheel drift, speeding quickly away from the scene of utter devastation they had left behind.
Thirty minutes later, the Audis powered into the access road leading towards the farmhouse in a neat line. As they retreated, two of Alex’s waiting guards fired up a snow blower to cover the tyre tracks from the road leading up to the farm. The convoy reached the courtyard before pulling into the cover of the slaughterhouse. All the engines shut down in unison. The team sat and waited in silence, listening intently for any hint of approaching police sirens or helicopters.
Finally, the radio crackled. ‘You’re clean.’
Alex leant back into his seat and drew a deep breath. He shook Vincent’s hand before they got out and removed Radic from the back, walked him over to a chair in the middle of the room, and started securing him to it with new chains.
‘Hey, what the fuck. This isn’t the deal. You get me free not take me prisoner. Fuck this shit!’ Radic protested.
Alex pulled off his balaclava. ‘You get your freedom, when I get what you promised me.’
‘So what the fuck are we doing here? Let’s fucking go! This place stinks of pig shit.’
‘You should feel right at home then,’ Nish said with a sneer as he pulled off his balaclava.
‘Hey Scottish,’ Radic said with a grin. Come suck Radic’s cock like a little bitch.’
‘How about a handjob?’ Nish walked over and grabbed Radic by the genitals and twisted them hard.
Radic yelled out. ‘Hey fuck you! The Russian promised me deal!’
‘Sorry Radic, thought you wanted a hand job...’ Nish said sarcastically before letting go.
‘Secure the perimeter,’ Alex ordered. ‘We move out after nightfall.’
65
Dusk was falling over the farmyard. Alex and the team were sat round a table eating dinner from M.R.E’s when a red landline phone on a desk rang. They all stopped eating and looked at each other. ‘Anyone expecting a call?’ Alex asked quizzically.
‘We’re all here,’ Nish replied with a shrug. ‘Except Zara. And Hunter.’
‘Zara doesn’t have the red phone number,’ Alex replied. They all looked blankly. Vincent and Alex looked at each other. Vincent shrugged. Alex put his meal down and walked over slowly. He stared at the phone for a minute before picking it up and listening.
‘Three little piggys went to market; two little piggys went home. One little piggy went squealing Wee! Wee! Wee! All the way back to the C.I.A...’ came the familiarly childish tones on the other end of the line.
‘Smythe...’ Alex hissed in a voice loud enough to be heard by his men in earshot. They all looked at him. He made a circular gesture with his finger indicating around the building. His men quickly and quietly picked up their carbines and moved low and slow to form a complete perimeter.
‘It seems your friend Hunter, is now my friend Hunter. First Merriweather, now Hunter. I wonder how many more of your little band of brothers will change sides before the day is done. Some of them might be in there now. Can you guess which ones? Have a look at their faces.’ Alex looked at his men suspiciously. ‘How many more of them have realised they’re on the losing team and decided to swap sides before the final whistle.’
‘What do you want?’
‘I’m giving you a chance to parley, before...’
‘What?’
‘Come and parley, and see for yourself. Outside in five minutes.’
‘You think I’m going to put my head in front of a sniper’s scope?’
‘Come now,
it’s too early in the fight to be killing generals, isn’t it? Don’t worry. When the time comes you won’t be left out. Five minutes then. Toodle-pip.’ The line went dead.
‘What have we got?’ Alex asked.
‘Nothing,’ Nish reported back as he looked through the gaps in the dirty cracked windows. ‘What does he want?’
‘Parley outside in five.’
‘If they’re out there, we can’t see them.’
‘Break out the thermals and night vision. I want a full sniper compliment. Get someone covering the front drive, and a second covering position.’
‘How did he know we were here?’ Nish asked. Alex looked at Vincent. Vincent sensed there was some reason Alex didn’t want to reveal Hunter’s betrayal at this juncture so declined to offer any explanation of what he knew.
‘Does it matter? They’re here,’ Alex replied. Alex removed his weapons and put them on the table. Vincent walked over to him.
‘Was it?’ Vincent asked.
‘Yes,’ Alex replied softly.
Vincent nodded. ‘I cannot understand why he would do such a thing.’
‘He’s not one of us Vincent.’
‘You don’t want to tell them?’
‘I don’t want to make them suspicious of each other. We need unity right now.’
‘I understand.’
‘I need to go and talk to Smythe. If you can’t get him out,’ Alex said nodding at Radic. ‘Make sure you put two in his head. He’s got an insurance policy in the form of the deliverables. I assume he’ll sell them on to the highest bidder. Zara may be able to get them.’
