by KC McLaren
False sense of security? That’s one thing I’ve never had, false anything. Well, maybe a few wigs and noses. He walked into the road entrance of the apartment complex, his cap low on his forehead and headed to the underground car park. As he approached the barrier he spoke to Marks and said. “The barrier to the car park, can you do something with that, get it open before Roberts arrive? It looks card controlled.”
“Yes, I am approaching on your left, about twenty yards behind. I’ll have it open.” Marks replied.
Brad looked behind seeing the dark dressed figure of Marks closing up on him. He turned back and walked through the fire exit to the car park. It was two flights down to the bottom. There were more cameras placed in the corner ceiling of the stairwells so he kept his head down. He suspected eventually whoever was monitoring the area would be intrigued by the blurred ghostly images, so speed was of the essence. As he approached the door to the floor, he took out his Glock and its silencer. He held the gun for a moment feeling the cold blackness of death seeping through his gloved hand, a pleasant feeling. Then, checked to make sure a round was loaded into the chamber then attached the silencer and waited for Marks to catch up. As Marks descended the stairs, Brad turned around bringing his finger up to his lips, then crossing his throat indicated to Marks to turn off the comms.
“So, you’ll send me to the Taliban then?” Marks said arriving next to Brad.
“If they pay me enough, yes. Mind you, doubt I would get much for your skinny arse.” Brad smiled. “Either way, I’m annoyed, you should have known better.”
Marks replied, “You would only miss me. Have you got the other part of your plan sorted? We don’t want to be around when it all blows up.”
“They will arrive when I need them. Don’t worry, I have no intention of getting caught up when all hell lets loose, and Beckett is not getting away this time. Have you made sure everything is working as required in the van?” Brad replied.
“Yes, don’t I always? Not too happy about losing some of the kit in there, but needs must and all that good stuff. Roberts won’t know what is happening till the last minute.” Marks smirked.
Brad took on a menacing look. “Don’t fucking under estimate me Marks and don’t play me. There are many more out there that can take your place. In more ways than one. Right you little shit, let’s do what we are being paid for. Switch your comms back on.”
Marks brought out the iPad again and both of them studied the layout of the underground car park. The lift in the underground car park particularly interested Brad. Whilst there were two further lifts in the reception area of the complex running up the north face of the building, those were for general use. They didn’t stop on the penthouse floors, which were accessed with key cards via a private lift in the underground car park.
“Ok,” Brad said, “again, you take the left-hand side and I’ll take the right working our way up to the booth beside the lift. And, Marks, I mean what I say. If you can’t put the guy down using your pansy darts, shoot the bastard. We don’t have time to play your games.”
Brad opened the door to the car park, keeping low he watched Marks go to the left as he went to the right. There were plenty of cars in the area he could use for cover and avoid any cameras or people that may happen to be around. He crouched low behind an expensive looking BMW and took out a small pair of field binoculars and edged his body upwards and sneaked a look towards the lift area. He peered through the binoculars scanning the area. It was silent in the underground car park and no one around. As he turned to look at the booth, he noticed something unexpected. There were two men there, not just the one he had expected. One of them was in the booth and the other stood in front of it. It was the stance of this guy that caught his attention. The way he held himself, he focused more on the guy and saw he was holding something in his hand? It looked like a two-way radio. Although Brad could not see it, he could tell it was not a typical two-way, it looked military. And that stance?
“Marks, hold where you are," he said.
“Copy that,” Marks replied in a low whisper.
“There are two guys at the lift booth. I believe they may have had or have military training. Can you see them?”
“Yes, I can. And agree, they are not your run of the mill security guards. I can see that one of them is holding what looks like a military grade two-way radio. I can take the lights out, but it will only be for a few minutes before the emergency ones kick in.” Marks replied again.
“OK,” Brad said, “on my command, we need to get closer. I’ll flank to the right, get up towards the booth. You get close enough to take the guy in the booth. Roberts,” he continued, “get that van ready to move. The barrier is up, bring the van to the lift area on my say so.”
Brad wondered if Jonathan Beckett had somehow beefed up his security since arriving, but then again how could he have got men into place so quick? And these guys did not look like the typical protection just anyone could hire. Damn it he realised he should have brought a sniper rifle. They were too far away to use their side arms.
These guys were professionals. Taking both out at the same time would be difficult and those two-way radios were a worry. He put the binoculars back in the ruck sack and kept low using the cars for cover to get closer to the booth.
He got within twenty yards of the booth and took another peep above the car he was behind. The guard with the two-way stood closer to the lift entrance. Brad crouched down and took off his ruck sack laying it on the ground. Then opened it up and took out a pair of night goggles and placed them on his head, “Marks, you in place and ready?”
“Copy that, ready on your command,” came the reply.
Brad sneaked one more look towards the two guards and did another quick look around the garage, then put his rucksack back on. He knew they had the element of surprise on their side. “Marks,” he snapped over his comms, “cut the lights now. Go!”
As he gave Marks the command the lights in car park went out, his own sight replaced with an eerie green glow from the night vision goggles. Without hesitation he stood up with the weight on his back left foot. Knee slightly bent, his right leg out stretched in front of him, the optimum shooting stance instinctive and honed over many years. He brought the gun up with an in-line grip and gazed through the line of sight. The guard spotted him. With skill and perfect honed instincts, he lined him up and squeezed the trigger twice in quick succession. After all the years of practice and hunting down his targets, there was little need to think. The two bullets had already made their deathly short and almost silent journey to their target, one to centre mass, one to the head. No need to wait to see the outcome of the resulting impact, Brad was already on the move. The images already played out in his mind. The guard was down, dead and lifeless.
He was able see that Marks had also done his job, the guard in the booth was also down and out. Not that he had any doubts. When it came to it, he knew he could rely on Marks, even though he was hard on him. A necessity born out of years of trusting no one with anything, regardless of who they were. He looked around, Marks approached on his left. The Plexiglas of the booth laying shot out on the ground, Brad hadn’t heard the shots or the sound of any breakage. He hadn’t needed to; the job done. As Brad neared the dead body of the guard he took off his night vision goggles placing them back in his rucksack. The emergency lights flicked on.
“Those lights won’t last long,” Marks said as he approached the deathly scene in front of him. “The system in the main centre of the complex will register a fault and auto reset bringing the main lighting back on-line.”
“Ok, check the guy in the booth and then get to work on accessing the codes to the floors in the lifts, we don’t have a lot of time.” Brad replied. He knelt down next to the dead guard, looking at the deep red blood seeping through his chest. As he knelt, he spoke into the comms, “Roberts, get that van around here quick, when you get here there are two bodies. Make sure they are hidden from view.”
�
�Copy that,” came a simple dead pan reply.
“What are you looking at Brad, it’s not as if you’ve not seen a few dead bodies in your time.” Marks asked.
Brad looked back around up at Marks. “Something is not right here. This guy is not a civilian.” He opened the dead guard’s coat up bringing it across his chest and saw a butt of a gun in its holster. “That’s not good.” Brad said out loud to no-one in particular. He took the gun out of the holster, inspecting it. No security in the UK carried guns, not least men in suites unless they came from one place. He turned the body over, avoiding the ever growing patch of blood, searching for the man’s wallet and taking it from his trouser pocket he opened it up. And held up an ID card.
“That is not good at all!” Brad said through grinding teethe.
Marks picked up the two-way radio lying on the ground, the only thing that survived the four bullets. He turned it over in his hand, inspecting it. “This is on a government channel, Brad.”
“I knew it,” Brad replied, “we’ve just taken out security personnel that work for the UK government. This guy is on personal security detail. Not good.”
“What the hell is going on, Brad?”
“These guys,” Brad said as he stood up, “would have been assigned to protect one of two types of groups. Either an overseas diplomat, or worse, a UK cabinet minister. That means there will be more of them around, and I suspect they will be in the penthouse.”
Marks walked over to the booth, “Brad, this guy is not the same. He has no gun, just a driving licence. How many more personal bodyguards do you think there are?”
“That depends on whom they are guarding. If it’s a diplomat, maybe two. If it’s a cabinet minister, more.”
“Brad,” asked Marks, “do you think we should get out of here now, and cut our losses. It could turn into a right shit storm.”
“Cut our losses? Don’t be daft. We are, I am, here to do a job, a very well paid one. I’ve been tracking this Jonathan Beckett for over a year now. And I don’t cut out on operations, never have never will.”
Marks looked concerned and said. “If there are more trained security personnel up there, how the hell are we going to take them out? We planned this on assumption of low interaction, quick in, quick out.”
Angry Brad said, “And for someone so into your tech toys, you have no clue who Jonathan Beckett is. And more to the point you have no idea about the people we are working for. You don’t just walk away and cut your losses? They are not terrorists or some low life thinking big drug lord that want’s their competition wiped out. They have more infrastructure in place than any small country and have a lot more money to boot.”
Marks lowered his head, “I do know who Jonathan Beckett is, Brad. I am not as fucking stupid as you make me out me to be. I may not know why these people want him. But don’t patronise me. All I am saying is this looks like it’s getting out of hand. We should do a tactical retreat and gather more intel then decide on a better course of action.”
Brad understood Marks reasons but knew it was now or never. “You don’t get it, Marks. We can’t go backwards. There is no tactical retreat on the cards. This is the closest I’ve ever got to this guy. Dropping out now means we don’t get another chance. And not getting another chance means one thing. We are dead! Fucked up beyond all recognition and no one will know anything about it.”
“That doesn’t sound like the Brad I know. You’ve always been off the grid. No-one can get to you,” Marks replied with obvious concern in his voice.
“Maybe, but not with these guys. They’ve not told us why they want Jonathan Beckett, but it’s easy to work out. They want control of the UK’s security grid, ThornScope. You heard of that?”
“I’ve heard the rumours but I thought this Beckett guy had dropped out, off the grid, no longer around. Why now?”
“That is something I don’t know, but one thing is for sure. We don’t, and can’t walk away. And even if I had a choice to back off, I would not. Never. I may hide if all this goes tits up, but believe me even me, we, could not hide for long. These people would come after us. And before you know it, we would be buried in the ground without another thought. And if they get control of ThornScope, I suspect we would be two of the few people in Europe that won’t be on their radar. We’ve done enough time wasting, wasted too much of it. You in or out?”
“It seems you’ve bitten off more than you can chew. But I am in.”
“Good, get the lift sorted out.” Brad did another search of the dead guard’s wallet. He thumbed through the contents and took out a photograph of a woman and two children and looked at it for a few seconds. Silly bugger, he thought, no-one should have a family doing this work. There was another card, a plastic one like a credit card with a strip on the back of it. It had the Pan Peninsula complex logo on it. A swipe card.
“Marks,” he said as Marks approached the lift. Marks turned around. “I think I have something.” He walked over to where he stood and handed him the swipe card. “Is this something that will help?”
Marks took the card, rolling it over and looking at it. “It will. I think it’s a swipe card for the lift. It will save me time in doing a full hack of the systems to bypass security.”
“Good,” Brad replied, “you have five minutes. I want to be at the top of the building in ten minutes. It won’t be long before others will turn up, and they will come for us. Got it?”
Brad walked back over to the dead body and replaced the contents back into the wallet, then put it back into the back pocket of the trousers. Such a waste, he thought to himself. As he stood up, he could hear the engine of a vehicle approaching and turned around, gun already in hand. It was Roberts.
Chapter 30 | Everyone to Millharbour
EGIL REALISED HE NEEDED to get down to 1 Millharbour. Maybe take the tube? Nope, too many CCTV’s cameras around. And by now they the hounds will be out looking for him. Instead he strode back to the main road which lay just outside the complex. The effects of the drug subsided, albeit he could feel a thumping headache coming on like a nasty hangover from the night before.
It was easy enough to hail a black cab and asked the driver to drive as fast as he could. “Ok, governor, but I can’t go that fast. Too many speed cameras around here, mate.” The taxi driver replied.
“Just get me there as fast as you can please. Do you know if there is a reception area in the building?”
“Yes, mate. There is. You want dropping off outside it?”
“Yes. That will be fine thanks,” Egil replied.
He was in two minds to call in backup but till he got there he didn’t understand what to expect. And it wouldn’t be too long before some major questions were asked about the incident in the car park. The pieces of the jigsaw came together, but there were many parts still missing and the only people with answers were in that penthouse.
As he travelled, the thoughts about arriving and what could happen wondered through his head. If Brad had already arrived it could well be he was too late, then what? If he was still there, then what? And above all else, what the hell was going on that was so important a man was murdered in cold blood? A few minutes later the cab pulled up outside the reception area, Egil looked around and couldn’t help feel impressed by the design of the two tower buildings. Although he had seen them before he had never been this close. He paid the cabbie driver and entered the building. The two towers were connected by the reception area that contained a concierge foyer. As he entered, he could also see signs for a multi-floor gym, a private cinema and even a terraced restaurant. Damn it, he thought, he was in the wrong job.
The foyer was not too busy with just a few people milling around, most of them in gym gear minding their own business. He walked up to the concierge desk and decided the best course of action to get information quickly was to produce his MI5 security ID.
The concierge spotted him and with his best welcoming smile said, “Good afternoon Sir. How can I help you today?”
“Not at all, Sir. It seems there is a few of your type around today.”
As Egil raised a questioning eyebrow, he noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye. He could see another man approach, he turned towards him and felt his heart beat a little faster. It was Egil’s turn to look nervous and a worrying sense of great danger engulfed him, the sense of danger was not for himself. He recognised the man approaching him understanding the information he wanted may be harder to get than he realised.
“I’ll take it from here,” the man said to the concierge. “Hello, Egil, it’s been a long time. What are you doing here?” he asked in a blunt fashion.
“I could ask you the same of you, Carl. But I know the answer to that, and it makes me even more concerned about the circumstances that have brought me here. We need to speak, and we need to speak now,” said Egil with an edge of concern in his voice. The concierge looked at both of them and not wanting for him to hear anything he walked closer to Carl. He took him by his arm and moved him away out of earshot of the desk.
Carl, reluctant, complied. “Again, Egil. I have to ask. Why are you here?” He said lowering his tone.
Egil saw the warning signs and noticed Carl move his left leg backwards putting his weight on his foot, a classic pre-emptive defence movement taught to all security personnel.
Egil did the same but put his hand palm up, “Let me speak before you that gun out, Carl.” Egil had known Carl for many years. Both of them had gone through initial training and recruitment in the British Army and later had served together in the army intelligence corps.
“I’ll give you two minutes, Egil. You’ve pissed off a few people today it seems.”
“Not as pissed off as I am, Carl. I don’t have time to explain everything, but with you here, and now me?” Egil paused, hesitated just a little and said, “It means only one thing. The Prime Minister is in immediate grave danger.”
