by Ray Christie
“I’m cornered, I have a sniper firing bloody arrows at me from a building East of my position on Old Broad.” Jack makes a plan if Sam cannot make it, he scans the garage for a car easy to steal if needed.
***
Sam runs out of the building site and jumps into the bug out car placed there earlier, followed quickly by surprised overweight and sleepy security guards fumbling into their radios. He started the ignition and floored the engine, with wheels spinning in the damp tarmac he made his way down Copthall avenue towards Jack. “What is your position, I’m West one hundred meters from the entrance.”
“At the garage doors, the sniper is elevated along Old Broad, no exact location determined.”
“Copy that, wait out.” Sam knows what he needs to do, confirming his suspicion he reckons the sniper is working out of a room. Closer to Old Broad Street he moves out of the side street and pulls the car in about fifty meters from the garage entrance. Exiting the car, he takes with him his rifle, aimed at the rooftops and the windows of the top two floors of the suspect target location he inches his way along the street. As he rounds the bend in the street he takes in another column of windows. Checking the extra few meters along the rooftop is not his priority, Sam knows he would have seen their thermal signatures from the crane, ‘He’s inside one of these rooms, watching for the injured to reappear, stalking’. Rolling his feet onto the ground as he walks, he glides across the pavement with bent knees acting like shock absorbers stabilising his view, both eyes open for threats. Sam and Jack both watch as a car passes, a taxi, slowing down then taking off at speed. Both men know they do not have much time left before the Met’s firearm unit rolls up. Sam focuses on what he does best. Switching his thermal camera on he checks the rooms, one by one. From his position, he can see Jack against the garage door with his gun raised covering threats from his rear. With a raised hand and pointed finger Jack signals where he thinks, judging from its trajectory, the arrow came from.
Sam slows his breathing, a few more footsteps, the rifle scope balanced and steady, the illuminated reticle looking for its target. Rounding the bend in the street until he approaches another column of windows, starting from the top window he allows the thermal imager to adjust from the streetlights. There he is. A human form shines red somewhat brightly in the scope. The room is glowing patterns of orange around him, a heater must be on, the windows are open, and curtains are drawn.
Jack looks over and sees Sam frozen, his rifle fixed on a top floor window. He knows it is time to act. He kicks in the door of the cleaner’s room, grabbing a broom he rushes out towards the garage door entrance. Jack rips off his jacket and hangs it over the head of the brush, stepping closer to the street he slowly moves this pretend human out into the cold windy street. Within a second his hand is forced backwards, and a muffled pop is heard. Jack throws the broom down and looks across the road at Sam whose sight is still fixed on the room down the street. The arrow went straight through his jacket, throwing it back on he watches as Sam now runs along the street towards the building. Jack takes off at speed calling for him to forget the sniper. “Did you hit him?”
“In the face, the thermal showed the blood spray over the wall behind him, I want to check for intel.”
“We don’t have time, Trevor left, the cops will be all over this place.” Their sirens now clearly heard in the distance.
Running back to Sam’s car Jack uses the mic. “Foxtrot, this is Delta, are you receiving?”
“Delta, this is Foxtrot, go ahead,”
“Foxtrot stay alert, X-Ray is mobile, black BMW.”
Jean-Baptiste had been positioned in the back of a BT fleet Vauxhall van, a vehicle he keeps in storage and brings out only for surveillance jobs. Parked across from Great Winchester street covering the best route of escape. His sniper rifle pointing out the back window.
“Delta, the vehicle is stopped, I am approaching on foot, standby.” Jean-Baptiste had been listening to the communication between Jack and Sam, knowing the tide had turned he took a gamble that the fleeing BMW was Trevor, the X-Ray. Once he saw the subject in his scope he fired twice through the back window of the van sending glass spraying down the pavement. Stepping out of the van, with the glass cracking under his feet, he leaves his rifle behind and removes a Beretta M9A3 from his waistband. With the suppressor attached he approaches the vehicle quickly. The airbag has deployed due to the car veering off the road, mounting the kerb, crashing into a traffic light, and coming to a rest against the wall of the HSBC bank. Jean-Baptiste shot the target in both shoulders, wanting to keep him alive in the off chance it was a decoy. Stepping up on to the bonnet of the car and dropping to his knee Jean-Baptiste fires two rounds into the driver’s forehead through the shattered windscreen. “Delta, the driver is not X-Ray, I repeat, not X-Ray.”
“Foxtrot, copy last, set back and prepare for next.”
The news hit Jack hard, Trevor had played them, back at Sam’s car Jack jumps out and races towards the underground garage. With his weapon pointed into the darkness he runs inside at full speed but meets a car racing out with its lights turned off, the car does not stop as Jack leaps out of its way. Clipping Jack’s foot the white Porsche 911Turbo takes a left turn and with the engine roaring takes off at a lightning speed towards Threadneedle where it makes a right and disappears from Sam’s view.
Jack picks himself up and grabs his weapon which fell from his hand, Sam had brought his car to the entrance and was revving the engine to encourage Jack to hurry towards him. As he was making his way up the car ramp the blast hit him square in the back. Hurling him like a ragdoll against the car whilst blowing in the windows over Sam They both bore the brunt of the explosion.
TWENTY-FIVE
Jack could not hear anything, his ears were bleeding, it felt like he was lying crumpled on the hard pavement for hours. He could not respond, and he could not even recognise the face above him. A heavily bearded man with a turban was pulling at Jack, another was trying to pull Sam from the car. Jack looked over at Sam watching him as he put the stranger in a chokehold until the man lost consciousness. With no understanding of the situation, Jack copied Sam’s actions, within seconds Jacks stranger was also unconscious. Sam walked around the car and grabbed Jack by the arm and led him away towards one of the TX4 taxis’ idling in the street. Both men in the car it was now obvious to Jack that those two strangers were passing taxi drivers trying to help. The red and blue lights of emergency services lit up the sandstone buildings behind them. Sam put the taxi in gear and the engine thrust life into the wheels, heading towards the fleeing X-Ray they watched as the police and ambulances now raced to the carnage. Turning left onto King William street Sam reckoned they had three minutes before the stolen black taxi would be traced through London’s network of connected smart cameras. “Jack, Jack are you all right? I need you operating,” shouts Sam.
Jack had lifted a pack of cigarettes from the dash console and lit one, breathing in deeply he passed it to Sam and rubbed his hands over his body.
“How did we survive that? nothing was broken, a few holes but nothing serious,” wiping the blood from his ears he then pulled a phone out from his pocket. “Mics missing, must have blown off.”
Sam takes a puff of the cigarette to wake up the head, then he tries his mic to contact Jean-Baptiste but no reply, “Can you contact Julie? I think it’s time we called in her help.”
“Nothing to lose I guess, get this hackney carriage off the road, we need new wheels, see what Trevor was driving? he will be outside of London in minutes.”
Jack types the number in slowly, using every ounce of energy to activate his memory. Eventually, he manages to get the number dialled, feeling sick of the cigarette he passes it back to Sam who flicks it out the window.
“It’s ringing…”
Sam brings the taxi to a stop at the back of Trinity square and exits the vehicle followed by Jack who both takes off walking at a brisk pace.
“Good morning, Mayfair I
ndustries, how may I direct your call please,” the soft voice of a female operator answered on the fourth ring.
“November six one five six nine two one hotel,” Jack could barely make out the sound of his own voice and therefore could not hear his own laboured breathing.
The operator did, sensing urgency the operator quickly sprung into life, checking the ID against her computer she asked who Jack wished to speak too.
“Julie Ashton.”
“Hold there please.”
Jack followed Sam who appeared to know where he was going, one hand on the phone and the other making sure his pistol was tight inside his waistband. He removes his chest holster and throws it over the wall into the grounds of the Tower of London.
“Julie speaking, I was wondering when you would eventually call, are you injured?”
“Good morning Julie, sorry to disturb you, I’ve seen better days, must be old age I guess.”
“You didn’t disturb me, I am in the war room, it has been an interesting night.”
“Anything to do with me?”
“Is your phone secure?”
“It’s a burner, not secure, but that’s the last thing on my mind, I need your help, Julie, I am trying to end a rogue operator, one of yours, it’s a long story and I will come in and debrief but right now he is leaving London in a white Porsche 911, can you help?”
“Jack we have been following you for the past few days, the CIA tipped us off some time ago about the black operations, they wanted a part of it, all settled on our side but when Trevor started his killing spree we wanted to step in. However, the PM asked us to watch from above to see if your unit could finish what you all started. We did not want an international shit storm, Jack.”
Turning onto the docks Jack looks around covering Sam as he approaches the yacht Yuliana to check for threats. Jean-Baptiste should be back here soon.
“What does that mean? we were operating within guidelines, as grey as they come, but serving the crown nonetheless, Trevor, on the other hand, operated for personal rewards and I am trying to stop him, we were on the defensive and acted accordingly. Trevor has blood on his hands, and he will not stop until he wipes out everyone on the team.”
Julie gathers her thoughts quickly, a lump gathering in her throat. “I don’t know what he is planning exactly Jack, it is not financial loses I am fearing, what the CIA and our own intel suggest is that he has intelligence for sale or for blackmail. Information is taken from the Oxford men. I do not need to tell you that those old codes have secrets far beyond the vaults of MI5, SIS and even the NSA which is why the US are probing us. Secret deals and networks made with various international criminal organisations, mafias, royalty, politicians, all done with handshakes and a nod. However, someone took the liberty of documenting them as the decades passed by and stored them in the hallowed halls around Oxford.”
“That makes for a great history documentary Julie, but I just want to stop getting shot at, I need eyes on and any assistance you can provide, I trust you still can help with that!”
“I’ll need to clear it with the PM first.”
“The blood is leaking from me and Trevor is driving somewhere fast, we don’t have all day, how long will this take to clear?”
“Not long, the PM is beside me…, clearance has been approved, give the cameras a few minutes to pull up the vehicle, keep this phone on you so we can locate and direct you to him.”
Julie’s voice is hard and fast, “Jack I seen what Trevor did to Arthur in the field in Somerset, make sure you nail that bastard.”
Jack forgot that Julie Ashton and Arthur were old university friends, perhaps lovers. Annoyed as he was that the agency was using satellites and watching their movements but not getting involved, but nothing he could do, the intelligence side was not an area Jack wanted much to do with. It was giving him another headache, so many innocent people died. The agencies played a murky game, stepping in only when an outcome is not in their favour. It appeared to Jack that they were willing to sit back until everyone has been wiped, then step in. Now they have no option but to assist.
As Jack waited on a positive ID of Trevor’s car and location Jean-Baptiste jogs past and heads on to the stern of the yacht and makes his way up to the aft deck and enters inside followed quickly by Sam.
“By the way you need to get cleaned up Jack, you look like a car crash victim.”
Jack looks up toward the CCTV camera with the infrared light illuminated, with a smile and a nod he steps back under the cover of a low hanging tree, ‘Bloody spooks!’
***
Émilie had been listening to the communications and was worried they would not make it back. Her job was to ensure they could all bug out safely. The yacht was prepped to sail, stocked, and charged, however, this morning it was set up as a floating hospital and her skills were required. Plastic lined the floor to catch the dripping blood as the men took their turns for treatment. Sam was getting the glass removed from his face while Jean-Baptiste came back out to beckon Jack inside and to provide security. Sam made his way to the galley to make a coffee for the men after getting fixed up. Waiting on Julie to get back to him Jack sits down bare-chested to have his wound managed to avoid infection, flicking a couple of clindamycin pills into his mouth washed down with a sparkling soda he flinches as Émilie disinfects his shoulder.
He looks deep into her eyes as she is distracted by her duties, “You know what you are doing I guess?”
“Corporal Monaghan was attacked by Red Indians in Dakota in eighteen sixty-seven, he returned to duty in twenty days, I’ll have you operational in twenty minutes,” Émilie said with a wink as she checked his vitals and opened a pack of Derma Clips. After cleaning the wound and applying ointment she finished off with a field dressing and sits back to look at her work. “That should hold off infection for a couple of days or two, but you will need proper treatment…”
Jack holds up his hand to cut her off.
“We have him, Jack, white Porsche heading north, there looks to be a black Range Rover Sentinel following, providing security. Try to get past it without being noticed then hit Trevor, we will provide the route, the eye in the sky will follow you until the job is done, you got that?”
“Copy last, heading north, black Range Rover, listen can you guys provide a car and equipment, don’t want to be carjacking and having the local cops follow us up the A1.”
“Stay at your location, we will drop something round in ten minutes, we will check out the Range Rover and update.”
Sam comes back with a few glasses of fresh Sumatran coffee and a pack of dextroamphetamine, “Not my style but maybe you need a couple of these pills Jack.”
“As your treating doctor, I advise against them ok.”
Jack laughs as he cracks open the blister pack and swallows some down followed by the warm coffee.
Sam and Jack eat some food from the dining table, prepared earlier by Émilie, and stuff their pockets with nut bars as they wait for assistance by the technical teams.
A bag of fresh phones, batteries and mics are set up, the SIM card quickly changed over just in time as the message from Julie indicates the help has arrived.
The men prepare the lines and adjust the fenders as Émilie engages the throttle, once they step onto dry land the yacht leaves the dock.
Now the three of them stand there as the tech staff opens the boot of the Jaguar XJ, all three of the men are smiling. The weaponry that Julie has provided in the short timeframe was impressive. Three Heckler & Koch MP5’s, one L119A1, one AR15, two Sig Sauer P239’s, one Remington 870 Shotgun, one McMillan TAC-338 plus its cousin the Arctic Warfare Magnum sniper rifle, a case of M84 stun grenades, a case of M67 grenades, NVGs and finally a breaching kit complete with explosive charges.
“All we need is a Javelin missile and we are set,” laughs Sam.
Jack picks up the MP5 and tests the mechanism, completes a dry fire as Jean-Baptiste ensures his comms are working with Émilie as he watches t
he yacht depart.
The tech staff hands Sam the key, “Please look after the car, the airbags have been removed and the frame is reinforced to get you out of tight spots, navigation has been replaced with our own encrypted GPS military software, it is not completely soft-skinned, aramid fibre is added to the floor, ceiling, posts and doors, the glass will take a pounding, the fuel tank and battery case is fully armoured, run-flat tyres and finally, all the ammo is on the back seat.”
Sam nodding approvingly jokes, “You may never see this car after today.”
“Not my problem, oh and one last thing, the boss can hear your conversations in the car, so mind your language, switch the radio to channel one nine to listen.” With that said the man turns and jogs off into the night.
No time to waste Sam gets into the driver seat, Jean-Baptiste climbs in the back while Jack rides shotgun.
“Jack, the GPS is live, we entered in Trevor’s location and that of the Range Rover, you can see them marked if you zoom out.” Julie’s voice emanates from the twenty meridian speakers throughout the car. Jack plays with the GPS, finding their position as Sam thrashes the Jag through the streets of London. Each traffic light is set to green as they approach, the reach and power of the agencies are such that all policing commands will be ordered not to get into a pursuit with the vehicle.
“Is there a way you can slow down Trevor?” asks Sam.
“Working on that, what we do have regarding the Range Rover is quite surprising, Trevor has employed a handful of ex-Spetsnaz pipe hitters, they were all Spetsgruppa Alpha company before coming to London for the big money Russian mafia contracts, the one acting as Trevor’s decoy in the BMW was from the same unit.”
