***
Mason had persuaded Garside to allow him to brief Boyce and he was to simply press the button on an electronic device he would install in his house as soon as contact with the rebels was made. This would alert the waiting snatch squads when the terrorists left the premises. Boyce would be instructed not leave with them because he wanted a bit of time to sort his affairs out. If they come in force, then there will be sufficient resources to deal with them once and for all. Mason assured his boss about the safety of his banker friend and Garside was reasonably confident that this would work.
At dawn, the next morning the two young men dressed in their commuter garb made their way to the banker’s house. Brendon noted that there were plenty of gardens in the area and waited at the top of the road while Kenny rang the doorbell of number 415.
Kenny waited some time for the door to be answered. Eventually, it opened and a rather rotund man asked ‘yes? What do you want?’
‘We understand that you are interested in joining forces against the current establishment Sir and I’ve come here to escort you to our headquarters.’
‘Yes I am interested but I’ve got far too much to do that would make it impossible for me to leave right now. Give me a couple of days to sort my affairs out. Please do not let anyone know that you have spoken to me.’ Beads of sweat started to appear on the bankers face.
‘We are concerned that the Stapo will come for you if we leave it much longer Sir, all that you need will be provided once you are with us.’
Boyce paused and said I’ll just get my coat and some papers, wait there.’ He slammed the door shut and quickly reached the device. The button was pressed and the Stapo started to emerge from behind buildings, out of parks and gardens, from behind trees.
Brendon was the first to spot the hoards of Stapo descending on Kenny. ‘Get out of there now they’re on to us.’ He screamed into his wire. Drawing his Glock pistol from inside his coat, he started to fire at the advancing police striking one of them as he aimed a shot at Kenny. Several police officers trained their automatic weapons on Brendon shooting him numerous times. His body jerked and lifted from the ground with the impact of each strike eventually rendering him motionless on the ground in a pool of blood.
An officer shouted to Kenny ‘put your hands on your head and do not move or you will be shot.’ Many weapons were trained on him so he had no option but to obey. Officers were quickly upon him, handcuffing his hands in front of his body. He was forcibly pushed into the back of an arrest vehicle and driven off.
Henry Mason had been alerted that the capture had been made and while he was pleased about it, he was disappointed that only one other was involved and had been shot dead. At least he had something to work on.
As the police vehicle trundled through the streets of London, Ken Vernon or Kenny as he liked to be called pondered on his life. He was 20 years of age when he joined John’s fighters and in 7 years he had learned so much. He had become a soldier. Now, he knew he was to face his biggest test.
The vehicle screeched to a halt and the rear doors opened. ‘Get out’ a harsh voice commanded. Kenny was in no hurry and was grabbed by his jacket and dragged out of the police van. He fell to the ground and unable to maintain his balance scraped his face and hands as he contacted the rough surface of the road. One of the policemen seized him by the hair, raising him to his feet. ‘Now move when you’re told to and move quickly or you’ll be helped along if you get my drift.’
The side of Kenny’s face was severely scraped and bleeding. His hands and knuckles had also been cut as he tried to cushion his fall. So he looked in a sorry state.
He had been taken to the main police headquarters and was frogmarched to the reception desk. ‘Name?’ the desk sergeant snarled. ‘No comment’ Kenny replied.
‘Smart arse eh. Well, we have a way to deal with smart arses. Holding cell 7,’ he said nodding to the escorts standing either side of their prisoner. They dragged and partly carried Kenny to the holding cell. The two burly Stapo’s bundled Kenny into the cell and closed the door. They remained in the cell with him.
‘Now, you really don’t want us to get angry with you son so just give us your name.’
‘No comment’ Kenny replied.
One of the Stapo walked behind Kenny and cracked him forcefully across the lower back with a truncheon. The force of the blow caused Kenny to lurch forward into the other Stapo, who caught him and at the same time raised his knee into his groin. Kenny gasped for air as he fell to the ground clutching his groin. The pain in his back was like nothing he had ever felt in life. The Stapo grasped the prisoner’s hair and hauled him to his feet. Kenny cried out in pain. ‘Your name, shithead or you’ll get more of the same.’
Kenny could only whisper through gritted teeth, ‘no comment’.
‘You stupid bastard.’ A loud thwack came from another blow with the truncheon again across his lower back. This was delivered with venom and once again Kenny was thrown forward falling to the floor. Blows now rained down on him from every angle and he could feel he was losing consciousness.
‘We’re going now but when we come back you had better cooperate or there’ll be more of what you’ve just had, arsehole.’ The Stapo delivered a kick to Kenny’s stomach as he left.
Kenny was violently sick and didn’t see that his vomit was bright red. He lost consciousness at that point.
Henry Mason arrived at the police HQ. I want to collect the prisoner you brought in earlier.’
‘I’m sorry sir but who are you and what authority do you have?’ The desk Sergeant asked.
Mason showed his ID card and said that if necessary he will speak with the duty officer.
‘I’ll get Detective Inspector Johns down here straight away sir, I’m sure he will sort things out.’
Graham Johns appeared after a few minutes. ‘What can I do for you, Mr Mason?’
‘You have arrested a suspected terrorist this morning and have brought him here. I am now required to collect him and take him to our specialist unit.’
‘On whose authority because in my view this is a police matter?’
‘I have the authority of the First Minister. As this is considered to be a matter of national security I think you’ll find that he will not be pleased if we are delayed in any way.’
Graham turned to the desk sergeant, ‘where is he being held. Has he been processed and read his rights?’
‘Holding cell 7 sir. He refused to give his name so we were unable to process him.’
Nodding to Mason, Graham said ‘let’s go then and see if we can find out who he is.’ Mason and his two heavies walked behind Graham and a Constable with the cell keys.
The Constable looked through the peephole at the cell door and said ‘Oh my God’ and quickly unlocked the door. Graham and Mason moved in quickly behind the PC, who was now leaning over Kenny checking for a pulse in his neck. ‘We need an ambulance now, he’s only just alive.’ Paramedics and a doctor were summoned.
Graham was incensed ‘Who the hell has done this to this prisoner? No one is to enter or leave this station. I want it locked down. Get that message to the desk Sergeant now.’
Mason was white with rage. ‘Whoever has done this has destroyed a significant source of information that would have helped us locate and destroy the terrorist group. I want to know who is responsible for this Detective Inspector.’
‘Do not worry Mr Mason I will find out who is responsible and they will be dealt with by the police. But before you leave us to get on with our business, you might like to remember that this is not your domain. So kindly go now and I will keep you informed as to the outcome of all this.’
A doctor and two medics came into the cell as Mason and his escort left. The doctor examined Kenny and very soon stood up and looking at Graham solemnly shook his head. ‘I’m afraid his injuries were severe and we will probably find that there was significant internal bleeding. I’m sorry.’
John knew that Brendon
had been killed in the failed attempt to get Boyce. The operation about the banker was clearly a setup but it wasn’t until he was contacted by Graham that he learned of Kenny’s death. The end of the year 2033 was not a good one.
John Judge Page 37
