Capture or Kill

by Tom Marcus

  Once the A4 surveillance teams realize what’s happened and Stormy Weather is nowhere to be seen, the operations centre will pull all the feeds from any local assets they have. We have to assume most of the operators on the ground will remember some if not all of the registration numbers on the vehicles in the area, so we’ll have to obscure our number plates. We need to stay ahead by any means possible, but I can’t shake the feeling that even dirtying fake plates won’t put us enough steps ahead.

  ‘Stick them on now and when you get close to the area I’d obscure the plates however you can – mud, black markers or a seemingly badly placed sign covering the plate – anything like that.’ Sometimes the easiest methods are the best ones to use.

  As we look through the registration plates, I can see the eyes of the team darting at the figures: with a marker pen a number 3 becomes an 8, E becomes a B at distance, and so on. It’s a crude method and one that won’t hold up to much scrutiny, but we won’t need to pass a police stop, just change the profiles of the vans enough to snatch this guy away from MI5 and get out of there.

  Claire flicks her wrist and holds up her watch. ‘If we leave now we should be on the ground before the A4 team starts plotting-up around the exit to the prison. We’ll have to just figure this out once we get there.’

  She’s right. To have any chance of pulling this off we need to get going. Then we’re going to have to pretty much make it up as we go along. Improvising and adapting to evolving situations – making split-second decisions that could mean the difference between success and total disaster – was all part of the job. But this is taking flying by the seat of your pants to another level. I’m confident Alex and I can hack it – but the rest of them? Well, I’m about to find out.

  Scooping up the various items from the bench, we move towards the vehicles. Alex nods at me, showing me the keys to her van. ‘We’ll go in the blocking vehicle.’ Craig takes a boy-racer Seat Leon FR, Riaz and Ryan walk over to their pick-up van – the one I’ll be hoping to push Stormy Weather into – and Claire jumps into a people carrier that looks like a stereotypical mum taxi, complete with baby-on-board sticker in the back window and a baby seat covered in biscuit crumbs. We might be about to walk into a giant clusterfuck, but I have to admit the level of detail is pretty impressive. You’d never guess this vehicle was about to play a massive part in a deniable MI5 operation.

  We file out of the base in a loose convoy – no need to try and disguise the fact that we are a team on an operation; it just isn’t an operation to track down a few people who haven’t paid their road tax. As soon as we’re rolling, we sort out our comms. In A4 we only refer to each other’s operational numbers, but we haven’t discussed that for Blindeye yet. I don’t know anyone else’s number apart from Alex’s.

  ‘Anyone give Ryan a test call on channel eight?’

  ‘Loud and clear to Claire, how me?’

  ‘Loud and clear to Riaz . . .’

  ‘Roger, Riaz, likewise to Logan.’

  ‘Logan you’re loud and clear to Craig, bro.’

  ‘And everyone is loud and clear to Alex.’

  ‘Roger, Alex, That’s Ops on, too,’ Leyton-Hughes adds from the base. ‘Just to update you all, Stormy Weather is due out shortly after 1300 hours.’

  The next few hours, driving south-east towards the area of the prison, is straightforward. Alex and I enjoy the calm before the carnage that is about to take place, not feeling awkward. Alex takes a detour down a wooded track, disappearing into some trees to allow me to change the look of our van – amber flashing lights on the roof, magnetic highway maintenance signs on the sides and back – before accelerating hard towards the area of the prison so we can get ahead of the A4 team.

  We’d spotted Craig blasting past us a while ago, so it’s no surprise he’s first to our target. ‘Craig, in the area now, no sign of another team yet. I’ll hold close in to the west until everyone’s here.’

  Leyton-Hughes responds. ‘Ops, roger that. For information, the closest Western Union transfer point is to the west of your position, in Gillingham.’

  That confirms what we thought. The A4 team will be set up with the assumption that Stormy Weather will likely be travelling west towards Gillingham to make his money transfer. The prison is actually on an island, separated from the mainland by a thin stretch of water with only one route in and out, which I’m hoping will provide an advantage later on.

  ‘Guys, from Craig, there is a bus route just to the south-west of the prison exit, within walking distance on Brabazon Road. Ryan and Riaz, when you get to the area give me a shout and I’ll come to you, so you guys can jump in the back of your van ready for the pick-up. I’ll just need dropping off later to pick my vehicle up.’

  ‘Roger, thanks Craig. We’ll be in the area in figures four.’

  There is so much said on the net between team members that we usually precede any time references with ‘figures’, to make them clear and distinct from any other messages flying around. So far, so good. Everybody seems to understand their part in our improvised plan. But I know from studying the map that finding a gap the A4 team had left for us to exploit is still going to be massively difficult. ‘Just pull over for a minute, Alex.’ Alex stops at the side of the road. I get out and open the sliding side door of the van, grab some kit from the back and pass it over the seats before sliding the door shut again.

  ‘Hard hat, glasses, wig and hi-vis jacket in there, mate. Just don’t throw me about too much with your rally driving, yeah.’

  The disguises aren’t designed for long-term deployment, but soon we look the part of road workers here to assess some repairs, complete with paperwork and clipboards in the dash of the van. With our amber lights and signs, we’re good to go, and I see we even have cones in the back if we need to push our cover deeper.

  Five minutes later, we’re getting close. Claire shouts up on the radio that she’s in the area now, and Craig lets us know he’s with Ryan and Riaz, driving their van. ‘How we looking, Alex?’

  ‘Yeah, all good, just coming past that bus stop to our offside now. Prison is up in front, two hundred metres away . . .’

  Just as I’m about to reply through the gap in the seats from the back of the van, Alex speaks again.

  ‘Fuck. Logan . . . A4 surveillance team is already here.’

  8

  The stress is obvious in Alex’s voice as she passes on the bad news on the net.

  ‘All stations be aware, the A4 surveillance team is already here. They have one on foot on his own at the bus stop, and a grey BMW 3 Series close in to the south on the junction of Alexandra Way.’

  I’m not surprised Alex has managed to spot them so quickly. It was just a case of looking at the location and figuring out where we would have put people – then seeing if we could recognize anybody. I was mentally prepared to find them already in place. It’s what I would have done. A4 teams are extremely good at getting things like this right, we do this day in day out. No point in losing the game before the kick-off.

  Even though I trust Alex’s observational skills, it’s frustrating not being able to check them out myself, but my field of view from behind the seats is not ideal, and the fact that I’m bouncing around like a pinball doesn’t help. We pass the bus stop but I can’t verify her identification.

  ‘Did you see what team they’re from, mate?’

  ‘Not sure. I think the guy at the bus stop is from Green Team. The BMW driver I’ve seen in Thames House before. They’re fucking quick off the blocks, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yeah, if they already have one direct at the bus stop we might have to put this blocking vehicle in between him and Stormy Weather and get Claire to fire off one of the incendiary devices. I hope she finds the right cover to make it work. But look on the bright side – at least they’re taking the exact positions we reckoned they would.’

  Leyton-Hughes agrees with my assessment. ‘Ops, roger the last.’

  As the last of the team make it into the
area, we start to spot more of the opposing operators. What makes MI5 surveillance teams the best in the world is the constant anti- and counter-surveillance methods used to avoid being seen and to prevent a target slipping the net. And yet here we are, trying to defeat the very people we learned our craft with.

  On any other day, we’d be classed as traitors. But everyone in Blindeye knows the bigger picture.

  ‘From Craig, we’re holding out to the north-east. There’s an A4 surveillance car in front of us, facing towards the prison exit about two hundred metres from the junction. Black Toyota Avensis, one up only, male driver. Don’t recognize him but caught him whispering into comms.’

  Even if all the members of the A4 team weren’t known to us, if we’re very sharp we’ll be able to spot those telltale signs. We just have to make sure we don’t replicate them and get made in turn. And the best way we can do that is to stay on the outside of the surveillance ring, leaving one person inside, close in – which would be Claire – to tell us when Stormy Weather is out in the open. When he is, we’ll try and move in quickly before the A4 team has a chance to organize themselves . . .

  Luckily Claire chimes in, bringing me back to the task at hand.

  ‘Guys, I’m going to get out on foot, close to this direct position.’

  ‘Roger that, Claire,’ Alex responds. ‘I’m dropping Logan in close by, then I’ll be holding further north-east towards Craig’s van. May as well have cover in numbers.’

  She’s right. We have to hide in plain sight. One van might stand out on its own, especially covered in highway maintenance signs. But park it next to another van disguised the same way and it blends into the environment. As Alex rounds a corner to pull in behind Craig’s van, with Ryan and Riaz in the back, I slide out the back doors in full work gear. Hard hat, hi-visibility jacket, carrying some spray paint, ready to do some on-site inspections.

  I know I can’t hide from the A4 team in this area. There’s no point in even trying. But the hard hat and sunglasses will hopefully prevent any of them recognizing me. And me being out in the open gives us another advantage. I can help identify other team positions in support of Claire, just before we go in for the kill.

  I walk away from the vans, inspecting potholes in the pavements and spraying a few red circles around the ones deep enough to need repairing. It looks like I’m intent in the task, but I’m actually sweeping my surroundings for anything that makes my antennae twitch. I quickly spot another surveillance car nestled in between other vehicles, but facing away from the road junction. This was one of the close-in cars for sure, the telltale sign being the wing mirror pointed at a slightly different angle from normal, suggesting the operator in the driving seat is using the mirror to keep a keen eye on this junction. He or she isn’t being sloppy. In fact, I like the way they are hiding their profile with the high seat. Even if the target has been properly trained, they probably wouldn’t notice the detail with the mirror. Russians might be the exception, but the A4 don’t have to worry about them on this operation.

  The sun is high and the day is getting hotter – luckily a perfect day for wearing shades, but with all my layers, I’m already starting to sweat like a fat man in a sauna. I cross over to the other side of the junction as if I’m looking for more potholes. I glance at the squat grey concrete mass of the prison, looming to my left, but I can’t see the exit clearly because of the glare bouncing off the security signs. I figure it must be something like 150 metres away. Hopefully Claire’s got it covered. Then, as I lean down to spray paint a hole in the pavement, I hear her whispered tones over the radio.

  ‘Standby, standby. That’s Stormy Weather out, out and walking south-east towards the bus stop now.’

  Something isn’t right. It feels like everything’s happening too quickly. I suppress my instinct to look towards the prison. Instead, I take my phone out and start casually taking snaps of my potholes. It’s 1245 hours. Fucking typical, he’s out early. Putting my phone back in my pocket, I keep my movements smooth and unhurried, but I know I need to get a shift on to be alongside the prison exit in time for our vans turning up. I decide I’m going to deploy Alan’s incendiary device, still not completely sure how strong this thing is, and need to make sure I’m not going to cause a massive fire, just enough to cause a distraction. Hopefully the A4 team will pass it around there is a fire and if we get the timing right they’ll be too busy talking about that and give us the seconds we need. I need to ditch it. Spotting a bin, I know this is the perfect place. If I drop it in here it should be close enough to draw the attention of that surveillance car I identified.

  Taking a napkin left over from my McDonald’s breakfast, I cross the junction again and walk towards the bin. Holding the napkin, I reach inside my pocket, neatly wrapping the dummy iPhone while flicking the mute button to on. I know I have about ten seconds before this thing starts burning.

  Dropping the napkin-wrapped phone into the bin on the corner of the junction, I pray Alan’s device is strong enough to turn this bin into a big smoking mess, but not so strong that it sets the whole place alight. With a bit of luck, the local residents will call the fire brigade too. By the time we lift Stormy Weather, the place will be swamped. Well, it’s done now. Make or break. I smile to myself as I think back to my setting fires in bins as a kid. The bin starts to smoke heavily, with the odd flicker of a low flame, and soon there’s a very obvious plume of smoke charging higher into the sky. This needs to work; either we lift Stormy Weather or we all end up in the same jail he’s just come out of.

  For surveillance operatives like us, total silence is our worst nightmare, especially after a stand-by is given out. Normally the net would be exploding with acknowledgements and constant movement updates of the target, but the lack of information pouring into my radio is unnerving. I move away from the bin and start walking purposefully towards the prison while still looking as casual as possible. In my peripheral vision, I see the flashing amber lights of Craig’s van flicker on as it passes me on the other side of the road. Fuck, I have to speed up, however conspicuous it makes me. Still nothing on the comms. Maybe Claire is in a black spot too.

  Rounding a slight bend in the road, I can see Craig’s van half-mounting the pavement, keeping the back end on the road, as a single-decker rolls past me. This could be our chance.

  ‘Anyone read Logan?’

  No one’s answering me.

  For fuck’s sake, please let the comms be back on!

  ‘Yeah, loud to Alex, I’m going past you now. Craig, I’m going to block the view to the north from behind you. I can see Stormy Weather crossing the road now west to east, continuing south towards the bus stop.’

  ‘Yeah, roger that, seen too,’ Craig responds calmly. ‘Stormy Weather walking solo, full dark-grey shalwar kameez, relaxed.’

  Hearing their voices does wonders for my heart rate. I’ve managed to close the gap to thirty metres from Storm Weather, and can see the bus slowing to a stop behind Craig’s van. But we still need more time. I see Craig get out of the van and start placing cones across the road. I smile to myself. Smart move. That could buy us the time we need. No word from Claire, though. I guess she must be staying close to the A4 foot surveillance. But Alex has driven past Stormy Weather to create a sandwich, and with the bus blocking the view from north and south, the prison to the west and tall hedges lining this pavement on the east side, once Stormy Weather makes it into our little box, we’ll have our opportunity.

  ‘Alex is in position.’

  Just as Alex finishes transmitting, I hear the low rumble of a motorbike. Taking a moment to bend down and mark another bit of damaged pavement with my spray paint, I see the black bike cruise past and pull up on the other side of the bus, presumably to check if Stormy Weather is about to get on board.

  ‘Guys, we have a biker, offside of the bus.’

  ‘Roger that, Logan,’ Alex came back. ‘I can see their helmet through the bus windows; he’s stopped on the other side of the bus now.’ />
  Fuck. This surveillance biker could be the thing that fucks us up – A4 surveillance bikers are normally the cream of the crop of operators.

  Craig comes back on. ‘I’ll sort this out.’

  From my angle, I can just see him in his hard hat and high-vis jacket, moving some of the cones, holding his hand out to the bus and beckoning with his other hand to the biker. ‘Come on mate, you first. Come on, come on!’

  I’m starting to like the way this guy operates. Craig knows this will put the biker in a difficult position. Basically, he has to ride out the area now, otherwise he’ll draw too much attention to himself. We’re using the very things we used to try and avoid like the plague against this surveillance team. He revs past Craig and accelerates down the road, no doubt cursing all the way.

  ‘Thanks, Craig. Biker is forced pass,’ Alex acknowledges.

  ‘Ryan and Riaz, roger that, we’re ready for Logan to pass Stormy Weather to us when he’s ready.’

  Perfect. I can see him now, a white male in a dark-grey shalwar kameez, checking his surroundings exactly like someone who’s been in a cell for a while and isn’t used to open spaces with people and traffic. I let the team know. ‘Logan, roger that. I’m fifteen metres behind him now, he’s almost at Alex’s van, about to walk past.’

  Both vans have their orange lights flashing on the roof. Craig is playing his part well, apologizing to the bus driver as he painstakingly moves the cones to let him through. This is it. Our perfect opportunity. If we snatch him now, while we have a normal-looking situation of highway vans about to do some road work, we can totally confuse the A4 surveillance team. Stormy Weather would have briefly been out of their sight as he walked in front of Alex’s van, and the operators will have seen the bus sitting there for just long enough to think that their target could have got on. If we get the next bit right, they could be checking the bus long enough for us to get out of the area.