by Ian Andrew
The commander of the three SCO19 teams out at the New Start Resort acknowledged him.
With Tien’s phone having the maximum number of open lines in use, Kara pulled her mobile out and called Sammi and Eugene on a similar multi-way setup, “Heads up, they’re on their way. Illy in the Merc, with Thor.”
“You sure it’s not Professor Plum in the Ballroom with the lead piping?” Sammi replied.
“Pretty sure,” Kara said and gave a small laugh. “Guide them in.”
“Roger that.”
Chapter 36
Saturday Evening. Shield Wood, Waltham Cross
Tien had been correct in her description of Shield Wood. Two miles long by two miles wide at its extremities, it was shaped almost exactly like a medieval shield, even having a wishbone curve on its top, northern-most edge. That salient marked the entrance to the New Start Resort with its five-bar gate and western-ranch style arch.
The one road that led from the gate was about three hundred yards long and ended in an expansive concrete apron with an extended raised platform running three quarters of its length. It had once been used as the loading dock and turning area for supermarket distribution trucks. The space would have allowed an articulated lorry to swing round as easily as a London cab. Now it was a vastly oversized carpark that swallowed a fleet of more than a dozen cars, all high-end saloons, of various models but all dark blue or black. Butting up against the raised platform and running beyond it was the large warehouse whose structure, some one hundred yards wide on its northern wall by fifty yards deep, dominated the space. To the east, west and south sides the dense wood was separated from the large metal shed by cleared areas, also concreted, about ten yards in width.
Halfway between the gate and the apron on the eastern side of the road was what had been the administration block for the supermarket operation but was now, according to Chris Sterling, home to the on-site security staff. It was a long, brick-built rectangle, about forty by fifteen yards in size and depending on how the inside had been fitted, could have played host to a considerable number of personnel.
Although Illy used the camp as a practical but invisible prison and therefore the security personnel were employed inside the buildings and not along the perimeter, the fence erected when it had been a distribution hub was still present. Ten feet high and running through the woods about sixty yards back from the warehouse, it was in a relatively poor state of repair and boasted no sophistication or electronic alarm measures. It had taken Eugene and Sammi about two minutes to get through it and move to the woods on the eastern side of the warehouse, directly behind the security block.
In the first hour after arriving they’d established that the north wall of the warehouse, where it extended past the raised loading dock, had a small Judas gate that was the only entrance in use. The massive roller door that had been in operation during the distribution days didn’t look as if it had been opened in years. There were no windows at all in any wall of the structure and the six emergency exit doors, spaced at regular intervals to meet Health and Safety regulations, were now all heavily barred on the outside.
The separate security block had no windows along its rear, eastern facing wall either, but did have a non-barred emergency exit door set into the narrow southern wall. Eugene made the long trek around to the western woods, and observed from across the wide concrete apron that the front of the security block had eight windows, four either side of a centrally placed double door that opened inwards. He’d assessed it as probably having eight rooms, likely once offices that were now possible sleeping quarters but there was no guarantee. He couldn’t observe the narrow northern wall at all as the trees thinned considerably the closer they got to the front of the site and he didn’t risk being exposed.
Once he had rejoined Sammi they had reported all they knew to Kara, including that they had seen no sign of Brenda Sterling. However, for each working girl that went out one of the guards would leave from the security block, walk up to the main building, enter through the Judas gate, then shortly after they’d leave together in one of the cars. Just before Zoe made her call to Uncle Illy there had been twelve cars left in the large carpark.
Now, following Kara’s orders, Sammi and Eugene moved swiftly. Sammi went back through the hole in the fence she and Eugene had made earlier. She turned on the small GPS beacon that Tien had given to her. Less than a minute later the SCO19 detachment leader, who held the other half of Tien’s small locator system, emerged from the depths of the wood. He was followed by three squads, a total of twenty-four officers, all wearing full assault kit, including helmets and with their goggles pulled down into place. Sammi turned and led them back through the fence to where Eugene was waiting.
A squad member handed both Sammi and Eugene a tactical radio set of the type all the SCO19 operators had. Then Eugene led two squads off whilst Sammi took the commander and the remaining squad down to the trees that faced the rear of the security block. She knelt on the ground and the commander came next to her.
“I’m Mark Stroller.”
Sammi liked him already as he hadn’t bothered with rank.
“I’m Sammi. This is as far as we go until you’re ready to move. The trees get steadily thinner, so you’ll be spotted any further forward. You good to go?”
“Yep, all we’ve been doing is playing in the sand.”
Sammi gave a small laugh, understanding that the commander and his assault teams had been practising their drills over and over since the likely tasking had come through. Back in the day she had actually used sand tables to draw out operational scenarios and practise them. Now she knew they’d more likely used electronic tablets and screens but it was nice to know the phrasing hadn’t changed. She definitely knew that they’d studied the images that were available and with the information she and Eugene had passed back via Kara they would have been resolving their action-on plans until they’d been relatively happy with them. There was never a time they’d be completely happy, but the time available for planning always had to be balanced by the time for actually doing.
“What’s our call signs Mark Stroller?”
“I’m Sierra One, you’re two and your oppo is three,” he whispered.
Sammi’s trailing mic and earphone connected to the phone in her pocket. She keyed the mic button, “Kara, I’m in place, designate me Sierra Two. Eugene is Sierra Three. I’m now handing control to Sierra One.” Then she disconnected her phone line and switched the tactical radio on.
Eugene, slightly out of breath by his swift transit in escorting the other two SCO19 squads to the area of the woods directly behind the rear, south-facing wall of the warehouse called in, “Roger. Likewise. Confirm I’m Sierra Three and I’m going to site the recce position.”
Then he took a deep breath and set off on his own to get to the western side of the woods. He’d be the only one with eyes on the front of the security block.
“Sierra One this is Trojan Control. Confirm status,” said the female operator with the trace of a Scottish accent.
“Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, this is Sierra One, check in, over,” Stroller whispered into his throat mic.
The man just five yards behind where Sammi knelt, said, “Alpha One roger.”
The two team leaders kneeling in the southern wood also keyed their mics, “Bravo One roger.”
“Charlie One roger.”
“Trojan Control from Sierra One. Status Green,” Stroller said.
“Roger Sierra One. You have TacCon. Acknowledge.”
“Roger Trojan Control, Sierra One has TacCon,” Mark Stroller said and with that took full command authority to launch any action within the Resort area.
Sammi focussed on quieting her breathing and concentrating on her surroundings.
The woods were never completely silent. The faintest of breezes disturbed the summer fullness of the leaves and set up mutual and continued rustling. Sammi gazed upwards through the briefest of gaps in the foliage above. She glimpsed chunky
clouds bumbling their way across a deepening blue backdrop as the sky began to acknowledge the sun’s passage to the horizon. But it wasn’t the sight or sounds of nature that drew her attention. She was struck by the amount of fidgeting she could hear from the squad behind her. Used to a much more rigorous noise discipline, she glanced sideways at Stroller, but he seemed oblivious. She understood why the assault teams had arrived into the last staging point as late as possible. Had they come in earlier she was certain someone would have heard them. But now it wouldn’t matter, for she reckoned it was about to get quite noisy before much longer.
“Sierra One, from Trojan Two. One Mercedes, confirmed driver is Thor, no identification on passenger. Now west on small approach turning to Camp location. ETA Camp one minute.”
“Trojan Two, Sierra One. One minute. Roger.”
Sammi had a limited line of sight to the arched gateway at the entrance but she could see the Mercedes travelling at speed along the small lane that ran past the camp. As it approached the entrance point it slewed to a violent, skewed halt on the far side of the five-bar gate. Thor got out.
“All teams, this is Sierra One. Targets are on site. Standby. Standby.”
Sammi watched as Thor went out of view, masked from her sightline by the security block. She guessed he was opening the gate, for he was quickly back in the car and it was powering up the single road towards the security block and the warehouse. Almost immediately the Mercedes started blaring its horn.
“Sierra One, this is Sierra Three,” Eugene’s deep voice sounded mellow, almost relaxed despite his efforts to make his position in time. “Central doors on security block are open. I have four, check that, six personnel, all trying to hurriedly put jackets on and straighten ties. Be aware at least three of those are confirmed armed, pistols in shoulder holsters. Mercedes is braking hard… Thor is out of the vehicle… As is Illy. We have target confirmation. Copy?”
“Roger Sierra Three, we have target confirmation,” Stroller said.
Sammi reached out and put her hand on Stroller’s arm. They were shielded by the security block but in direct line they were only about fifteen yards from where the Mercedes sat on the other side of the building. It wasn’t far enough to attenuate the raised voice and almost hysterical raving in Russian of Illy.
Sammi leant in to Stroller so she could whisper, “He’s yelling about none of them answering their phones. He’s telling all of them that he will,” she paused, “Nice, he’s going to cut their cocks off and feed them to their wives or sisters or mothers if they do that to him again. Charming. More importantly he wants two of them to come with him, the rest are to get,” she paused again, “Nope, didn’t get that bit, but whatever he wants them, oh he wants four of them to go down to the gate and wait there for, ha,” Sammi laughed quietly. “He wants them to wait for some PI bitch and her friends who think they’re going to walk in here and take what’s his.”
“Sierra One, this is Sierra Three. You have a total of ten security now in front of the building. I guess some of them were asleep. The last four look somewhat dishevelled. Illy, Thor and two of them are heading up to the warehouse. The other eight are hustling back into the security block.”
“Sierra Three, are weapons drawn by target and his escorts?” Stroller asked.
“Negative Sierra One. No weapons visible at this time,” Eugene answered.
Stroller knew the walk from the security block to the warehouse was about one hundred and fifty yards. He had a clear line of sight on most of it. All he needed to do was wait a few seconds for Illy to come into full view.
“Bravo and Charlie teams, from Sierra One, move to jump off. Advise when in position.”
Unsighted by the bulk of the warehouse, Illy had no idea that as he was walking towards the building, sixteen heavily armed personnel were moving across the ten yards of open ground from the woods behind it over to the rear wall. Once there, Bravo team moved to the eastern corner and Charlie to the west.
“Sierra One, Bravo in position.”
“Sierra One, Charlie in position.”
“Sierra One this is Sierra Three. The four guys Illy is sending down to the gate have reappeared at the door to the block. They’re armed with assault rifles. Look like AK’s. They’re heading down the road on foot. Nil sighting of the other four. Assess they’re still in the block building.”
“Roger, Sierra Three.”
Stroller was watching Illy carefully through a set of small field glasses. He was about fifty yards from the Judas gate.
“Alpha Team, move to jump off.”
“Roger.”
The confirmation was hardly needed as eight people moved past Stroller and Sammi and made their way across the clearing to nestle up against the rear wall of the security block. Half went left and half went right. The leader of the squad looked back at Stroller and gave him a thumbs up.
Illy was almost at the small Judas gate.
“Bravo, Charlie, position two.”
From where Sammi was she could see the eight-strong Bravo Squad moving along the eastern wall of the warehouse to the northern most corner. She knew that Charlie Squad was doing the same on the opposite side.
Even from over a hundred yards away they could hear the massive thumping Illy had started on the metal frame of the warehouse wall.
“All call signs, standby, standby,” Stroller said. Sammi noticed the hand he was holding the small field glasses in was shaking slightly.
‘Good,’ she thought. ‘You’re about to send people into harm’s way, you should be nervous.’
Libby Cooper was designated as Bravo Two and as such she stood directly behind her squad leader with her left hand up on his shoulder and her right controlling the weapon she wore across her chest. The twenty-five year old Police Constable had been a member of the Met for seven years. Having grown up in rural Suffolk she had wanted to join the Force since visiting London with her parents during the Queen’s Golden Jubilee celebrations in June 2002. The then thirteen year old had been awestruck by the Police horses. She had fallen in love with the image of the beautiful female constable atop the jet black Irish Warmblood. The horse, standing almost seventeen hands high, had serenely guided the swarming crowd with the occasional nudge of its long head. It seemed so strong, yet glamourous and combined perfectly the young Libby’s love of horses with her sense of adventure.
She had joined the Met one month past her eighteenth birthday. After a two year probation she had spent a year and a half in the crime squad strategizing how best to work her way into the Mounted Branch. Then, because a colleague was nervous going on her own, she tagged along to a familiarisation day with SCO19. Having never fired a gun in her life it came as a revelation to her and a surprise to the Sergeant controlling the range that PC Libby Cooper was a natural. The lure of the Mounted Branch was replaced by the pull of SCO19. Now a three-year veteran of the unit, she had been deployed on more than two hundred operations but not once had fired either her Glock17 pistol or the Heckler & Koch MP5 sub-machine gun in anger.
She felt the tremor of anticipation flowing from her squad leader, through her and onto Bravo Three who held his hand on her shoulder. She focused on the actions she would carry out and the drills that she had practised time and time and time again. The soft hum in her ears from the small integrated headset in her helmet provided a static accompaniment to the rising tension and the flow of adrenaline that her training tried to control. She heard the banging of a fist on the aluminium of the warehouse and heard a raised voice shouting in a foreign language that she guessed was Russian. The tension notched up further, she could feel her heart beat increase and the hum in her ears seemed to buzz.
“Go. Go. Go.”
Her squad leader was moving by the end of the first word. He broke from her hand and she moved immediately after him. They came round the front corner of the building and raised their weapons into their shoulders. Libby moved slightly to the right to get clear lines of sight. Immediately to her front
she could see two men. Both wore dark suits and both stood outside the small open door that had swung inward to the warehouse.
Beyond them she could see the lead elements of Charlie Squad rounding the far corner of the building. Both Bravo and Charlie closed the gap on the door rapidly.
The two men, in the process of going through the open door, hadn’t noticed what was closing in on them. That lasted for another second. The one furthest forward was just about to step over the threshold when he turned his head to the left and seemed to look straight at Libby. She heard her squad leader yell, “ARMED POLICE. ARMED POLICE. STAND STILL.” The call was also taken up by Charlie Squad’s leader.
The two men at the door seemed to be caught in a comedic double take, looking from one side to the other. The one furthest back from the opening immediately raised his hands and stood very still indeed. The man to his front, stocky and wearing a pinstripe suit that Libby thought looked more appropriate for a banker in the city, finally decided that ducking in to the shed was a better option. But he’d left it a fraction too long.
Alerted by the calls of ‘Armed Police’ someone inside the warehouse decided to slam the door shut and did it with force. They would have succeeded had it not been for Pinstripe’s hand that was gripping the doorframe. He yelled out as three of his four fingers were fractured, let go of the frame and stepped backward. Libby’s squad leader caught the left hand flap of the immaculately tailored suit and unceremoniously flung him backward. The adrenaline filled power of the action caused the stocky man to crash into his partner and sent both of them spiralling backwards. Libby saw them fall but ignored them. Securing the men was someone else’s job.
Her squad leader pushed the swinging door back on its hinges and entered the bright, halogen lit interior of the large warehouse. He immediately stepped to his right and swung back around a full 180 degrees, thereby ensuring he wasn’t silhouetted in the doorway and checking that no one was nestled behind it about to take a shot at him or his squad. “Clear.”
