by Ray Christie
THE OXFORD CODE
RAY CHRISTIE
The Oxford Code ©
Copyright © 2020 Ray Christie
All rights reserved.
All characters, locations, businesses, events, incidents, and any other content held within this fictional novel are simply a product of the authors imagination and not to be viewed as anything but. I have tried to produce events and characters with identifying characteristics with physical properties if there is a resemblance to an actual event, persons then this is coincidental.
First Edition Published June 2020.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of very brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Book design cover by www.bespokebookcovers.com
A catalogue record of this book is available from the National Library of Australia and the Library of New South Wales.
Dedicated to my wife Yuliana.
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
ONE
London, England
Jack’s heart never pumps this fast in situations previously, he supposes it is compensating for the blood loss which has made a spotted trail over the past few kilometres, or the fact that he was rumbled. Distance and time were the last details he viewed on google maps before unceremoniously dispatching his iPhone into the river Thames. Will the dew be strong enough to dilute that trail! He will have to hope so, the choice for Jack not to undress, clean himself and find new clothes can be delayed for now. Making such changes take time and he cannot afford sloppiness, not now.
The milk rounds should be due soon, looking up Jack observes the blackness of the sky, buildings faintly illuminated with the weak glow of streetlights. Someone will be without their milk this morning as they will have undecidedly shouted Jack’s breakfast. Getting liquids into his body should improve his cognitive state, also removing the partially dissolved Italian coffee granules which linger with every breath. The remaining single serve coffee sachets, that Jack carries with him, can be mixed in the milk soon, a more sophisticated method of staying alert. Swallowing contents of a coffee sachet is an old tactic that Jack discovered when laying for hours behind a sniper scope. This will keep himself focused and awake for the next few hours, giving enough time to get answers and to get out of the country.
A sitrep shows a complex maze of quiet inner-city streets, occasional blurry eyed shift workers coming and going and an unconcerned fox going about its early morning raids. Bunkered down behind a low wall on a soggy garden in a row of terrace houses is Jacks cover for now. Crimsworth Road, is within a stone’s throw of Vauxhall where he began his covert operation two days ago, doubling back via Westminster to give those in the transit van the slip. The occupants of such were an unwelcomed addition to the team, plan A, B and C all went up in smoke once that team arrived. Their identities are yet to be established. Although all that could be said of them is that they are well trained and operated with great speed.
A high number of first responders’ vehicles trawling the streets looking for work would take too much of an interest in Jacks current state. ‘People are just too caring nowadays, bleeding men moving with speed through a city should be left to their own devices’ thought Jack. ‘Darwin’s law of natural selection should be allowed to flourish in certain circumstances.’
A quick personal physical assessment shows a penetration of the Gluteus Maximus. Stabbed deeply in the ass makes him feel stupid, deciding to call it his upper thigh he considers it quite problematic. The blood flow has at least stopped unless he keeps rubbing and squeezing it too much. He decides to leave it alone for now as he realises the extend of the damage. From experience Jack knows it will take about five days for new tissue re-growth to commence, however this is not a worry for him at this point, for now and most importantly the blood platelets have gathered to plug the hole.
‘A leak in the body is bad, but when the leak stops it’s a happy sign that someone is watching over me,’ thinks Jack. ‘Perhaps God or being more realistic a droopy-eyed CCTV operator somewhere.’ Soon he will be able to clean up with a garden hose, none of which he can see, he guesses he could at least remove the stickiness and appear somewhat presentable for the purpose of passers-by.
All the while as Jack tries to piece together his condition, he scans the area with a case of déjà vu, there is something about this street that he cannot quite get his head around. ‘Shit’, Jack suddenly snaps out of his thought process. From his position inside someone’s front garden, out of view from the street, the porch light suddenly comes on.
The Porchlight slightly illuminates the front garden, with a three-foot wall hiding anything unusual from the street. Guessing it is about six am and judging by the cars and state of the gardens it appears to be a street full of blue-collar workers. Jack, sinking deeply into the moist soil, presumes it will not be long before the street awakens with the occupants preparing for work. Another light on, this time it is the bottom front window. In a suburb so close to the city centre with an abundance of work and high rents, multiple persons would share such a house. Usually, the living room would be converted into an additional bedroom. Several workmen boots will likely be cluttering the hallway and high vis construction waterproof jackets will probably be hung lazily on the wall after each working day. Something about this house interests Jack, although he cannot put a finger on it, throughout London there are similarly styled houses in which he had conducted surveillance on, used as safe houses and lived in during his training. Jack resumes his observation on the house trying to predict what is happening inside. His thumping headache limits how much he can remember, likely suffering from concussion, all the while he is concentrating on the events at hand. Jack studies the house and continues to predict what is taking place inside. The kettle would be switched on as a matter of muscle memory of weary and sleepy builders, a system of bathroom and kitchen coordination of possibly hungover men getting ready for the commute to work, no more than fifteen minutes and the door will open. It will be time to move position and start his own investigation of the previous few hours. His search for a front garden tap was unsuccessful however time was well spent assessing, stretching out, getting oxygen into his lungs and wound healing.
The sound of arguing in the hallway of the construction workers’ house could be heard plainly in the front garden. Not English, not Polish but some other type of Eastern European language breaks the quiet and calm dawn, their voices are not heavy or harsh with years of cigarettes scorching the throats and lungs. Jack decides to tactically slip over the slight wall into the neighbour’s unkempt garden next door and hunker down in the doorway. Careful of not rustling the leaves on the shrubs or breaking branches. Even the slightest snap from a single twig would be unprofessional in Jack’s world. The possibility of an opportunistic moment from this house may be exposed, n
o matter how small, anything can help in this time of need.
Unceremoniously the front door is swung open revealing silhouettes in the front path of one of the workers. Young, probably early twenties, cigarette in the mouth stomping his feet firmly into his boots with smoke billowing around his face prompting him to rub at his eyes. Soon he is joined by four others, all around the same age which could be friends from a faraway village or perhaps from their old units, reluctant to separate after years serving with each other. The first one was about one eighty-five and around ninety kilos, the others slightly bigger and carried themselves with purpose and confidence.
A key is kicked under a spare tyre leaning against a pile of red bricks as the door is slammed shut, the strong smell of tobacco lingers heavily in the air as the group makes their way down the street towards the buses and train station. Ten minutes pass with no other noise or activity coming from the house, Jack determines this is a perfect situation not to be missed. Break and enters on residential and commercial properties are something he was trained in, although with ‘Her Majesty’s’ permission. Within 30 seconds the spare key is retrieved and silently slid inside the keyhole, no sign of them setting an alarm, so he eases the door open, entry is made.
Jack remains crouched down in the hallway, silent, still and listening for any signs of activity. With thin walls he can make out the sound of a toilet flushing next door. After waiting for a couple of minutes he slowly makes his way around each room of the house. A full recce of the place determines all occupants have left for the day, there are lots of work to do, so Jack is not wasting time. Committing a break and enter is not something planned but this desperate situation requires ‘creativity’, and this moment of creativity will serve to wash, dress, and get himself back on the street within minutes. Getting on the pavement before the neighbours will prevent any unwanted incidents and making good ground away from here is highly required.
The rooms are bright enough from the streetlights shining through the cheap curtains in the front bay windows. Jack can make out a selection of polo shirts and jumpers of which he could use to change his appearance very well, but due to the bright colours he dismisses these choices and ventures back up the staircase to the two bedrooms he previously checked for occupants. The rooms are rank, heavy air with a mixture of smoke, sweat, stale alcohol, fast food wrappers and builders’ socks filling his lungs. Controlling the urge to open the windows he carefully prises open the wardrobe looking for clothing. Finding a dark coloured polar neck jumper from one room and a couple of plain T-Shirts from another, he then fishes out a pair of black trousers from a drawer and a pair of brown shoes that fit well enough until he gets better equipped. Feeling quite relieved for himself on this moment of luck he begins sweeping the area gently looking for anything that could assist him for the next few hours.
Careful not to show any signs of theft he only takes what is needed, leaving valuables behind and the missing clothes will perhaps be a case of the owners blaming each other. This house offers no help to someone wishing to leave the country at short notice. Most likely the accommodation is rented, a lack of security means any valuables would be well hidden or stored in other locations. Deciding not to waste his time looking for and checking the worthiness of passports or other critical documents, taking only the small change he found at the side of one bed.
A sharp knife and perhaps some food would be much better for Jack, as his identity has now changed considerably to the untrained eye, and well enough to get where he needs to go. Finding a sharpish knife, a can of corned beef and half a jar of sauerkraut he intends to leave via the back door. Collecting a tweed flat cap as he put his hand on the door handle, he hears a familiar sound. A young man speaking the same language as those who had previously left moments ago is now approaching the rear of the property. Jack stands in complete silence in the dark until the automatic sensor activates and illuminates a figure approaching the back door, the figure gets larger as he is viewed through the dusty frosted glass. The brightness of the sensor shines deep inside the rear of this property, giving Jack the opportunity to quickly think and slide into position. He presumes this approaching person is on the phone as he finds small periods of breaks between his conversation. Hoping the new arrival did not observe Jack through the door from the garden he waits for the threats next move. Guessing this unwelcome guest has been temporarily blinded by the outdoor lights which in turn provided Jack with some degree of limited invisibility. This allows him the glory of creating an element of surprise.
Waiting for the rear door to open gives Jack one option, quickly he unscrews the light bulb from the room he is standing in then crouches down next to the washing machine and what appears to be empty power tool cases and cartons of Carlsberg. The overpowering stench of stale beer fills the room as the sound of a yapping dog from next door drowns out the sound of the crumpling cardboard cartons. Slowly manoeuvring into a position of an Olympic one-hundred-meter sprinter waiting for the starting pistol to fire. Without wanting to leave a trace or destroy the newly acquired clothing, now little hope of that remains.
The sound of the key stabbing at the lock pierces the ears, all secondary sounds such as the hum of the fridge, passing vehicles in the street and the cheap wall mounted analogue clock ticking slower and slower all fade into the background. All focus is directly on the door handle whilst Jack’s feet test which part of these floor tiles are the least slippery, preparing himself to ensure he gets the line of attack correct. One strong determined and aggressive pounce from his starting position would cover the distance and allow him the best chance to get a head start on his plans for this obstacle.
The door opens with a fast swing banging off the brick wall separating this room from the room in the adjoining house. The unidentified man stomps into the house still consumed by the telephone call, the phone is held up to his right ear meaning his vision is blocked in Jack’s direction. Without missing a beat, the man slams the door shut behind himself and storms into the living area leaving the lights switched off.
The sound of keys is heard being dropped onto the sofa which may be his makeshift bed and the sound of belching followed by a hearty laugh. What can only be described as a drunk man coming home and preparing to get ready for work is what Jack has concluded. This threat may dissipate if he puts on his clothes and leaves by the front door just as his housemates did before him. Looking around in the partially lit room Jack can see no construction work boots, lunch bags, or anything resembling work-related implements. No reason for the threat to come back into this room.
Jack forms the impression that these guys are mainly manpower with a local construction company working in one of the riverfront apartment blocks nearby. Last night he remembers the lights from the four tower cranes shine brightly in the London sky all pointing in the same direction as if to tell himself to move elsewhere. Advising him to turn around and seek refuge in the upmarket area of London instead. Something about this area is confusing and yet interesting to Jack, likely it was a place he conducted surveillance at or used as safe houses. His memory has failed him ever since receiving that blow to his head a few short hours ago.
He guesses that being superstitious whether true or not means nothing at this present time, crouching in a stranger’s house is not somewhere he wants to be. His knees are beginning to freeze and the muscles in his quads are becoming tight, this position cannot be maintained much longer. Standing up slightly and moving his position slowly to adapt to the new angle that the threat presents allow blood to flow and he mentally prepares for a takedown should the man enter the room again. The sound of him rummaging through clothes and plastic bags is accompanied by him muttering incoherently either to himself or on his phone. About twenty seconds pass with complete silence which is unusual, Jack’s mental map of the house and contemplating his every move based on sounds emanating from the room is not consistent with someone becoming silent. Is he aware someone is in the house?
There it is; unmi
stakable, elegant, and mysterious a single red dot moving purposively across the wall at various heights following the eye of the operator. Jack cannot begin to think about what he has walked into or ‘who are these people and why do they have access to weapons!’ No time for that now he can only fix his concentration on the moment, his training will dictate his next move and Jack’s also. Knowing this is the next room to be searched and sweeping to the left Jack gets into a position allowing the best access to his firearm.
Slowly the point of a firearm emerges through the door frame, waiting until the arms get within range then a quick disarming and takedown will follow. Jack could plainly hear the heavy breathing before but now this threat is controlling himself, preparing for the unknown, or perhaps just being over-cautious. Cautious and prepared he should be as Jack launches his body up quickly and aggressively grabs the firearm to redirect and bladed his body away from its aim. His other hand then joined the gun to gain control whilst driving his knee into the threats thigh and using his weight to rip the firearm out of his weakened control. This movement put Jack in a better position to further strike at his open frame. Requiring an attack on his vitals and not enough time to focus on fine motor skills Jack depends on speed. The threat moves into a stance similar to an MMA fighter with his hands up and chin down, ready to strike with both hands. Jack, not wanting for this situation to last, drives the heel of his palm upwards hammering the threats nose into his face. His shattered nose will momentarily stun him which then allows a forceful jab punch into his throat. With just enough control not to break the trachea and preventing a break and enter homicide situation, Jack can now work on other options. Thinking quickly the most suitable tactic is ‘escape’, get moving, and do this now. Blinded, wheezing for breath, and shoved off his feet into the living area Jack grabs at his old clothes which he tied together into a ball. Careful to take his belongings with him, along with this new tweed hat he grabs the door handle, the door lightly bangs off the wall as Jack disappeared into the dirty alley like a cat after a mouse.
