by Conrad Jones
Shut up and get in the cold room with everyone else. If you are in charge here, one of my agents will come and speak to you shortly.” Tank gestured to an armed police marksman to take the man away. The officer pushed the supervisor through the clear plastic curtain into the cold room.
Tank followed them through the clear strips into the refrigerator and quickly assessed the situation in front of him. There were approximately sixty men dressed in heavy thermal jackets, gloves and hats, they were lined up along one of the walls with their hands above their heads. The armed response team stood menacingly in front of the frightened men with their guns pointed toward them. The brave one or two that questioned them about what was happening were silenced quickly. “Anyone of white European appearance can be taken outside. The officers outside will take your details and then you can leave. You will not be working tonight so go home.” Tank waited for a reaction from the men but none came.
Most of them are Polish,” said the supervisor. “They don’t understand English very well.” The little man repeated what Tank had just said in Polish and the men started to file through the doors, still looking frightened until they got outside.
A heavily built man from Estonia stopped beside Tank. “You are a fascist pig. Police officers in my country are like you also. They are fascist pigs too.” Tank took half a step forward and drove his knee into the man’s groin. The Estonian man crumpled at the knees and grabbed at his injured testicles, groaning in agony. Tank stepped closer to the man and swung his elbow into the bridge of his nose, and the Estonian man crashed onto the floor backwards, his face was covered in blood. An armed agent moved over the injured man and pointed his machine gun at his head. The injured Estonian raised his hands in surrender, pain and shock making him less confrontational. “Has anyone else got any comments to pass on to me? Any feedback you can give, no matter how negative, is always welcome.” The room stayed silent apart from the noise from the big condenser fans and the man groaning on the floor.
The Eastern Europeans were escorted from the room, leaving the workers that were of Asian or Middle Eastern persuasion behind. The long slow process of checking the identities of everyone in the refrigerator began. Many of the men in the room shared identities. False passports and duplicate national insurance numbers were commonplace amongst illegal immigrants. This did not mean that all illegal immigrants were terrorists, or that all terrorists were illegal immigrants, but it was a start. The lessons learned by the British security services from the 7/7 London Bombs indicated that the opposite was true; all the bombers were well integrated into the British community, most had employment, wives and children. Their conviction, however was strong enough for them to leave their families behind and become suicide bombers, never the less, all the evidence that Tank had, pointed to this Muslim community.
The TTF agents interviewed the men thoroughly one at a time, and if any of them had incorrect documentation, or if they could not be found on the electoral role, they were handcuffed and taken into custody for further questioning. There was only half a dozen left to be spoken to when Chen arrived. “The house is wired completely. I am concerned about the Scuba gear that we found; it has definitely been used recently. I can’t tell if it was used in salt water or fresh water yet. We have taken a sample to indicate which, but we will not know until tomorrow.” Chen noticed two of the suspects that were waiting to be spoken to, were arguing, their voices were hushed but tempers were fraying. An armed response member moved toward the two men and directed them to be quiet. The two Egyptian men moved as if they were one. One of them tackled the armed officer around the legs while the other grabbed his machine gun, a Panther AP4 Carbine and he fired a volley of shots into the refrigerator ceiling. Then he pointed the gun at the head of the disarmed officer. “Please point your guns at the floor and your colleague will not be hurt.” The two men pulled the officer close to them and slowly made toward the doorway. No one moved. Tank gestured to his team to stay cool; he did not want to lose a man during an operation, ever.
The two men walked through the plastic thermal curtain and headed outside toward the car park. They kept the officer as a human shield between them and any potential sniper. The gunman handed a set of keys to his accomplice and he climbed onto a blue Yamaha motorbike. The gunman climbed behind him, the gun still pointed at the head of the policeman. Tank and Chen edged slowly toward them, knowing that there was nothing that they could do without risking their officer’s life. The motorbike roared to life and the driver kicked the pedal, engaging first gear. As the bike pulled quickly away, the gunman squeezed the trigger. The hostage toppled forward as the bullets ripped through his chest. He lay very still on the floor as people around him sprang into action. Two men rushed to the aid of their injured colleague, but the close proximity from which the high velocity bullets were fired had rendered the Kevlar vest almost useless.
Bullets crashed off the road all around the escaping Yamaha, blasting chunks of concrete and hot metal all over the two Eygptian men as the racing bike screamed away from the scene. Tank and Chen sprinted toward Chen’s car; both men were shouting angry instructions as they opened the doors and jumped into the vehicle.
The motorbike skidded onto the Kingsland Grange at high speed; a rolling barricade of police vehicles with blue lights flashing and sirens blaring, followed it closely. The remote spy drone helicopter moved from its position above the cold room and joined in the chase. Chen drove the car in pursuit of the two men, as fast as the traffic would allow. Tank wound down the window and pointed his gun at the speeding bike. He fired twice but the oncoming traffic made the risk of innocent casualties too great. He banged his fist on the dashboard in frustration. The motorbike increased its speed as it hit the wide lanes of the Birchwood expressway, heading toward Hilden traffic island at over a hundred miles an hour; it doubled the gap between the Egyptian men and the taskforce officers in just seconds. The unmanned drone was directly above the motorbike; it was the only pursuit vehicle that was fast enough to keep up with the machine, the slower police vehicles were losing ground as the bike approached Orford Park.
The entrance to the park was only wide enough for pedal bikes and push chairs to access the wooded area beyond. The perimeter of the park was ringed with spiked metal railings. The Yamaha screamed through the narrow entrance without slowing and disappeared into the dark, only the tail lights could be seen. “We can’t follow them through there; we are going to have to go around.” Chen took the vehicle around the corner on two wheels as they tried to stay parallel with the speeding motorbike. They were two hundred yards from the park’s exit when the motorbike emerged from the dark tree line and banked sharply back onto the highway heading toward the town centre down the main Winwick Road. The bike screamed by the railway station as it neared the town centre, and took a sharp bend heading into the market multi-storey car park. The driver killed the motorcycle’s headlights and took the bike up the concrete ramp to the second level. It was late and so the car park was empty. The pillion rider jumped off and headed for the concrete stairwell. He opened the door and turned to his accomplice. “Get to the safe house in Liverpool. I will meet you there if God will allow it to be so,” he shouted as he disappeared into the darkness of the stairs.
Tank and Chen had lost sight of the racing bike minutes before they rounded the bend outside the multi-storey. They did not see it turn into to the dark building. “Where is that drone? Don`t tell me we have lost these two bastards,” Tank said into the radio. It was broadcasting on an open channel. A static voice came back.
The drone has lost them completely. There is no body heat or engine registering on the instruments. The only way this can happen is if they have gone underground. Could they have entered a tunnel?”
The multi-storey car park, they must have turned into that. The layers of concrete will have the same effect as being underground. They must be in there.”
Chen slammed the car into reverse and spun the vehicle around to face the
dark car park entrance. Tank opened the door and got out. He ran across the road and vaulted the low wall into the empty car park. He peered into the gloom, trying to adjust his vision to the dark. He could see only a few abandoned vehicles, their owners probably drunk in the nearby pubs and clubs. Tank could hear the bass lines of a dozen music systems coming from the town centre bars. Police cars screeched to halt forming a semi-circle of steel and coloured lights around the building. The officers got out of their vehicles and drew down their weapons on the multi-storey.
The Egyptian pillion rider had dropped the automatic weapon when he dismounted the bike. He had entered the dark concrete stairwell and headed down. The fire door at the bottom of the stairs, which exited the rear of the building, had resisted him only briefly. The door splintered and burst open with the third kick. The Egyptian removed his thermal jacket and crossed the road slowly, trying not to attract any attention. He walked toward the sound of music and laughter that was coming from nearby. He walked down a narrow alleyway and found himself on Bridge Street. He laughed as he stepped into the bright lights of the town’s drinking area. He mingled into the crowds of drunken revellers that staggered up and down the street going from pub to pub. The street was packed with people. There was no way he would be found now. He was free.
The motorbike rider looked from the gloom at the armed police presence that was assembled around the building. He had little choice; surrender or die. He picked up the discarded weapon that his friend had left behind and then kicked the engine into life again. Tank was halfway up the first ramp when he heard the motorbike start its engine. He heard the tyres screech, but the noise seemed to be becoming more distant. The targets were heading up the ramps, higher into the building. He saw Chen in the gloom at the far side of the second level. He was standing next to the down ramps. Tank indicated to Chen that they would move simultaneously up both sets of ramps a level at a time.
Tank saw the bulking shapes of the Armed Response Team members climbing over the low walls to join in the pursuit; they were out for blood having lost one of their men. They split up, half joined Tank, the others followed Chen. They cleared the third level quickly, hugging the concrete walls in the darkness, trying to stay invisible. The upper levels were quiet, but for the sound of the Yamaha engine idling. The acoustics of the concrete structure made it impossible to distinguish how far away it was. The music from the high street was causing echoes around the building.
Tank held his hand up and the teams stood motionless. They were approaching the fourth level. Tank indicated to Chen to copy him. He pointed to his eyes then to himself, watch me, it meant. Tank put his Glock in its holster and took a Panther machine pistol from the agent next to him. He raised his head and shoulders above the ramp, allowing him to see the fourth level without giving his quarry a clear target. Tank took the safety off the weapon and sprayed bullets into the darkness, starting from his left in a wide deadly arc to his right. Chen immediately understood the tactic and followed suit at his end of the huge car park. Sparks flew in all directions as the machineguns released their deadly loads, the bullets slammed into the thick concrete walls. Ricochet bullets glowed red in the dark as they bounced around the cavernous concrete void. Suddenly the Yamaha engine roared, and the noise of screeching tyres combined with the deafening machinegun blasts filled the air. Tank saw Chen move up the ramp onto the fourth level and take up a shooting stance, and he heard Chen’s gun fired three times, the gun flash glowing white as he shot at a target in the gloom. The motorbike raced toward Chen and there was a blinding flash as a machine gun was fired from the bike, toward them. Chen’s three bullets hit the Egyptian man in the face, and his bone structure disintegrated beneath the force of the dum-dum shells. The bike continued, rider-less, for a few yards before crashing to halt in a shower of sparks. The volley from the Yamaha rider had caught Chen in the shoulder and chest. Chen spun round as the bullets pounded into him, taking him off his feet before he crashed to the ground.
CHAPTER 31
The Mosque
Grace Farrington pulled the Jeep she was driving to a halt and turned to her superior officer, Major Stanley Timms who was sat in the rear of the vehicle. Timms was monitoring the information that the spy drone was sending to his laptop computer; there were four people in the building’s main body and two in a smaller room at the rear. Sian squeezed Faz’s wrist in a nervous gesture of support from the front passenger seat. Sian had returned from her mission in Ireland just a half hour before the Armed Response Teams left the station in Liverpool. There had been little benefit from the trip to Dublin as the people that she needed information from were dead, and their associates had all gone to ground. The culture of silence that surrounded the paramilitaries in Ireland was still as strong today as it was during the troubles. No one dared speak to the authorities for fear of dreadful retribution.
How do you want to play this, Sir?” asked Faz.
You and the troops go in and see who we have in the mosque. I will take two men around the back in case anyone decides that they would rather be somewhere else.” The Major opened his door, climbed out and checked his battle vest. Happy that everything was in order he walked around to the rear of the vehicle. Sian and Faz followed him. Faz popped the lock with the electronic key. Sian opened the locked gun box and took out a Remington 870 pump-action shot gun. Faz picked up a similar weapon for herself and passed the third to Timms. The Remington 870 would stop a charging elephant at 200 yards. In a situation where a target may be in control of explosives, they had to be neutralised quickly so that they couldn’t activate any detonators. A wounded bomber could still possibly activate his explosive charge in theory. The Remington’s destructive power lessened the chances of a potential target still being capable of causing any damage.
Timms cocked his weapon and indicated to two uniformed officers from the taskforce to follow him. They headed through a small gateway that ran along the building to the rear exit. Sian and Faz headed toward the front door of the mosque followed by their team. They entered the unlocked mosque quickly and without any resistance. A startled Cleric was sat in the centre of the large area facing three young Muslim teenagers. The three young girls were wearing the traditional robes of Islamic women. They were obviously receiving some religious instruction from their shocked teacher.
This is a house of God. How dare you enter here with weapons in your hands? What possible reason can you have for this outrageous behaviour?” The Muslim Cleric spoke in a quiet voice, trying not to scare the already worried young girls. His accent was that of a local English man. “We don’t want to frighten you, Sir, and your students can leave. Officer, escort these ladies from the premises please.” Faz smiled at the girls in an attempt to calm them. She could see them staring at the silver pump-action shot gun that she carried before her. “We need to search the building, Sir. We have a warrant. We are investigating the whereabouts of an Iraqi man known as Yasser Ahmed. Do you know him?” Sian led the team further into the building whilst Faz dealt with the holy man. Faz saw the flash of recognition in the man’s eyes when she mentioned Yasser’s name. “I know of a man by that name but he would not be welcomed into this house of God. We are peaceful people, Officer; the man you are looking for is a terrorist. You will not find him here.” The holy man stood and looked to see where Sian and the armed men had gone. “We have received information that some of his supporters use this mosque for prayer. Do you know of anyone who might be giving shelter to this man? We know that he has bought explosives and is planning to use them in this country.” Faz pressed the old man; his expression was one of concern.
Where in this country does any man go to buy explosives? Why do you think that we are connected? The community here is made up of bankers and doctors, lawyers and teachers; we have no bombers here.” The man gestured around the empty room as if his congregation were standing in front of them. “I am afraid that terrorist cells don’t have `Bomber’ tattooed on their foreheads. We have someone from y
our congregation in custody. He was stopped driving a car full of Semtex from Ireland when we arrested him. His name is Usef Mamood. Do you know him?” Faz could tell that he knew Usef from the reaction on his face.
Sian appeared from the rear of the building followed by the officers in her team; they were leading two men in handcuffs through the buildings. “The building is clear apart from these two. They have no identification and they are refusing to talk”.
Take them to the station; we can interview them later on.” Sian walked toward Faz and the cleric. Major Timms entered through the front door with his two men. “I think we should finish this conversation at the station. You are not being honest with me are you?” Faz indicated to the two men who had entered with Major Timms, to take the cleric away with the others. “There’s an office and some living quarters through the back of the building. We might as well have a quick look around before forensics get here,” said Sian. They walked toward the rear of the building. Sian led the way down a narrow corridor. There were two doorways leading off the corridor to the left. She opened the first door and stepped into a small dormitory. There were six thin mattresses laid out on the floor, two of which looked like they had been slept in recently.
This is where we found the two unidentified men. They were sleeping when we came in,” Sian said. The three TTF members pulled on latex gloves and started to sift through items in the room. There were a few small sports bags containing socks and underwear but nothing of any great interest. At the far end of the dormitory was a small cupboard door. Faz opened it and looked at the two metal cylinders that were inside. “There are two Scuba diving tanks in here. Chen found some diving equipment at the house, there must be a link.” Faz turned the metal valve on the top of one of the tanks and compressed air hissed out noisily. “They are full too. They have not been used yet.” Faz checked the tanks to see if there was a supplier’s name anywhere. There was a small sticker on the side that displayed the date on which the tanks were last filled. There was also a company name and telephone number. “Carpenray is the name of the suppliers I think; there is a contact number on this tank.” Faz punched the number into her cell phone and dialled the number she had found. A voice answered on the other end and she left the room to take the call, she pulled out a pen and paper as she walked through the doorway.
