Soft Target 02 - Tank

by Conrad Jones

  The Saudis moved their crude oil price up and cut back production sharply, leading to diplomatic condemnation throughout the Western world. Since 1960 crude oil prices were governed by the OPEC nations. Prices had historically been affected by conflict in the Middle East, but the unilateral price increase from the Saudis seemed to have no justification. The OPEC cartel is made up of Algeria, Angola, Ecuador, Indonesia, Iran, Iraq, Kuwait, Nigeria, Libya, Qatar, Venezuela, the United Arab Emirates and Saudi Arabia. The Saudis oil production counts for over thirty percent of the world’s crude oil. If they increase the price then everyone else has to follow suit. OPEC’s principle aim is to safeguard the collective interests of the oil producing nations, with a view to eliminate harmful and unnecessary fluctuations. This unilateral price rise had caused chaos to international business. Air travel and product transportation costs doubled overnight forcing many small businesses across the globe into bankruptcy.

  The interrogation of the Russian Mafioso Yuri had delivered the name of the man behind the plot, and also the probable whereabouts of Jeannie. Even though they knew where she was being held the Saudis were reluctant to use their military forces to attempt to recover the Princess, because she was being held in Soviet territory. Tension between the southern Russian states and their Middle Eastern neighbours was fraught for centuries. The Soviets had always supported and supplied Syria with arms and armour, which caused ill feeling amongst other Muslim countries. Military forces across the Middle East were on amber alert following the Saudi airstrike on Syrian land. An additional incursion into a Soviet satellite state would be seen as an act of aggression and political suicide.

  The Saudis had decided to hand over both the perpetrators and the information that they had recovered to the British government. The bomb, which had killed so many young people on the River Dee, was an act of international terrorism on British soil. The fact that it had no political justification attached to it was irrelevant. If the British moved on the information that Roman Kordinski was involved, then the Saudis could not be blamed for outing the plot. British Special Forces were far better equipped to deal with a possible incursion and rescue attempt than the Saudi military. The decision was made; the Russian Yuri was to be handed to the British along with the recordings of his evidence under interrogation. The only way to carry out the plan without alerting the Russian Mafia was if Yuri was already dead.

  Chapter 21

  Newborough Preparatory School/ Woolton

  The old school building stood on top of a hill overlooking Liverpool, in a part of the city called Woolton. The area was once the main provider of red sandstone in the country, and the school was made from the local rock. It towered above the other buildings on Quarry Street, looking more like a Victorian lunatic asylum than a derelict prep school. The school was built from dark red-brown sandstone blocks each one at least three foot square. The black slate roof rose to a steep point four storeys above the overgrown playground, where children once played kiss and chase, and conker tournaments were as important as the World Cup final. It was decades since the dark stone had echoed with the laughter of children playing, and the brass bell ringing to call an end to playtime. Huge rusted iron gates stood between the empty playground and the road, the old school crest hung from the metal bars at an odd angle, its fixings long since rusted away. To anyone passing it was just a derelict preparatory school. No one ever saw anyone entering or leaving the building.

  Inside the broken facade the school was the most sophisticated surveillance facility in Europe. White tiled walls and polished marble floors were incorporated into this hi-tech listening post which was the nerve centre of Britain’s security agencies. The old school descended deep beneath street level to a warren of corridors and facilities. Access to the bunker-like regions below ground was via an underground tunnel, which ran from the Canning Place police headquarters building next to the River Mersey. The construction companies that built the public road tunnels beneath the river were also contracted to build the secret subterranean structure under the city and the old school. It was a top-secret project sponsored by the government, so that they could hide the cost of the nation’s secret spy centre in the building of the River Mersey tunnels.

  Major Stanley Timms was holding a video conference with the directors of MI5, MI6, SL19 (Armed Response Unit), the Organised Crime Unit and the Minister of Defence. The Major was trying to explain that the evidence that was recovered from the riverboat bomb did not support the theory, that an Islamic extremist cell was responsible for the explosion. It was much more likely that it was a cover for a kidnap plot. The evidence recovered from the Manchester Piccadilly bomb pointed to the fact that an individual called Patel was linked to both scenes by a transit van that he owned, however the Task Force didn’t feel extremists were to blame. The use of a fertiliser bomb at the station, which was much less sophisticated than the river bomb, supported the extremist theory, but the Major had serious concerns about it.

  “I believe that Imran Patel has been used as a puppet,” the Major explained, “a van owned by him was found burned out at the river, and there is no doubt that he was in the bin wagon that exploded at Piccadilly station. We have matched his DNA to human remains found in the driver’s seat of the vehicle.”

  “That sounds conclusive to me. I don’t understand why you are chasing shadows. This is obviously an Islamic extremist attack,” said Agent Garden from MI6. Garden was promoted to a level way above his capability by the old boy network. This meant that he frequently looked like a total asshole. He wanted the attacks to be laid at the feet of Islamic extremists to justify asking the government to increase his department budget. Politics were far more important to snakes like Garden.

  “The opposite is true Agent Garden,” the Major interrupted, “we recovered chemicals from the charred remains of the driver’s seat that are consistent with superglue.” Garden’s face flushed red, and not for the first time he wished he had kept his mouth shut. He had no military or law enforcement training; he was essentially a civil servant, a pen pusher with important friends. He could pick up a grammatical error in a written report no problem, but if asked to provide a solution to procedural inadequacies he didn’t have a clue. His mentors had realised that promoting him so far was a huge mistake, but it was too late to alter the situation. MI6 were known as spooks, undercover spies, although their operatives had military backgrounds, their directors did not.

  “There is also an elastic substance melted into some leg bone fragments, which would indicate that Mr Patel was secured to the driver’s seat by some type of bungee cord. Combined with the glue residue I have to conclude that Patel was forced into that seat under duress and he is a smoke screen. We aren’t sure why yet, but we have some leads which are being followed,” the Major explained.

  “What is the link to the 18th Brigade?” asked the Minister of Defence.

  “We know that they were at the riverboat and that there could be a kidnap incident which took place before the explosion. Until we can confirm the facts then I don’t want to speculate,” answered the Major dismissively. If the kidnap became the key issue then the Terrorist Task Force investigation would be hindered by the involvement of the other agencies. He needed to keep them at arm’s length for now. The Major was not however aware of the depth of knowledge that MI6 possessed.

  “I think that the Major is withholding information Minister,” blurted Agent Garden seizing what he saw as a chink in the theory and relishing the opportunity to ruin someone’s career to further his own. He had made backstabbing into an art form to speed his own progression up the ranks.

  “We have information from our Middle Eastern agents that the alleged kidnap victim is part of the Saudi Royal family. If the situation remains static, and this is in fact an international kidnapping, then this investigation is MI6 jurisdiction and I must insist that Major Timms discloses all the information that the Task Force has.”

  “We are investigating that eventuality Agent
Garden,” the Major countered, “however I would not have disclosed such information about the Saudi connection during a routine update conference call, on an unsecured frequency, you bloody idiot.” The Major raised his voice for the delivery of the last three words.

  “Minister I must protest! I assumed that we were using a secure link,” Garden protested stuttering, his face was a crimson colour. The Major picked up a telephone handset from the desk and dialled.

  “Switch off the link to MI6,” he said briskly and Agent Garden disappeared from the screen. Garden’s expression looked like he was about to learn the hard way what it felt like to get shafted.

  “There is an encrypted update of the situation being delivered to the Ministry as we speak Sir,” the Major said, “once we have dealt with the 18th Brigade interrogations I will update you immediately.”

  The Minister of Defence disappeared from the screen looking flustered and embarrassed. One of his key security directors had made a schoolboy error, which was unforgivable. In the cynical world of espionage there was no room for mistakes, he was already thinking of the name of Agent Garden’s replacement. The Major spoke briefly to the remaining directors from SL19 and MI5 to update them on the casino situation. The director of the Organised Crime Unit gave them all the details about his undercover officer who had infiltrated the Brigade ranks, and was now inside the casino. His undercover name was Simon Pinn, an excellent officer prior to being deployed as an infiltrator. There were some concerns that he had become too comfortable in his position as a Brigade member, and his recent Intel was sketchy at best. The OCU director sent the officer’s secure pager number. If the Terrorist Task Force could contact him inside the casino, then it would change the logistics of the hostage situation dramatically. The Major bid his goodbyes and took the pager details to the communications room.

  “Pull up the building plans and the subterranean infrastructure details for the casino please,” the Major ordered, “split the screen and show me the pictures from the remote drone too.” The screen flickered and the aerial image from the unmanned helicopter appeared. Greenish human forms indicated body heat radiating from where the occupants of the building were currently. A plan of the casino and the land it was built on materialised on the opposite half of the screen.

  “What are these lines here running through the casino?” the Major asked.

  “They are service shafts built for the River Mersey tunnels. They run under the casino and the River Mersey to the ventilation towers on the far riverbank.”

  The Mersey tunnels were built in the late 1960’s to accommodate road traffic crossing from the Wirral and North Wales into Liverpool city centre. There were three tunnels in total and a labyrinth of access and service shafts. Huge exhaust fans worked 24-hours a day to remove the toxic engine fumes from the tunnels.

  “There is an access hatch to the shaft, which is at the rear of the casino in a utility room. It could be a cellar,” the technician said.

  “Page the undercover OCU officer and give him the details of that ventilation shaft. He can use it to get out, or we could possibly use it to gain entry, but we need to know if it’s accessible,” the Major said. The Major was aware that there were concerns about the OCU officer, but he had no idea just how far across the line Simon Pinn had gone.

  Chapter 22

  Tank & JCB

  Tank leaned against the huge yellow JCB digging machine and listened to the Major in his earpiece. Chen was to his left observing the casino through night vision glasses, and listening to the Major on the open channel. Major Timms explained that the Organised Crime Unit actually did have an officer on the inside, and that there was a possible entry point through an access tunnel at the rear of the casino. He also explained that the OCU director had expressed concerns about the integrity of the covert agent who was called Pinn. The Major had passed on all the Intel available, including the positions of the casino’s occupants. Tank considered the access tunnel but quickly ruled it out. They did not know if the shaft’s hatch was accessible. It could be covered with carpet or laminate flooring. If it was a utility room or a kitchen back-up area it was probably tiled over. Then again if Pinn was untrustworthy there could now be half a dozen Brigade members pointing their machineguns at it, waiting for a head to pop up.

  “It’s your call Tank,” said the Major, “what’s your next step?”

  “Kill the power in the casino Major and order Faz to follow me in with two units. Tell the remaining units to secure the perimeter and wait for my signal,” Tank said.

  “What do you mean follow you in? How are you going to get in? I think that you really should consider the tunnel as an entry point. Are you ruling it out?” the Major asked in a frustrated manner.

  “If there is the slightest chance that the Organised Crime Unit’s agent is bent, then the tunnel is out of bounds Major. I am not leading my agents into an ambush,” Tank said tapping Chen on the shoulder to get his attention. He pointed to the big yellow machine and Chen’s eyes lit up as he realised the nature of Tank’s entry plan.

  “Two snowmen stood in a field and one said to the other, ‘can you smell carrots? ‘” Tank said climbing into the giant digger. Chen burst out laughing although he didn’t get the joke, his English was excellent but he did not have the English sense of humour to match.

  “What the bloody hell are you talking about Tank?” the Major spluttered. There was laughter on the airwaves as the other agents listened to the conversation.

  “It’s a joke Major, but sometimes the answer is right under your nose,” said Tank as he pressed the huge diesel engine into life. The neon signs outside the casino blinked out and the interior went into darkness a second later as the power was switched off. Tank engaged drive and the yellow machine lurched forward toward the sidewall of the casino, there were no windows there, and the heat and motion trackers displayed the area was clear of humans. The giant digger bounced over the kerbstones into the casino car park picking up speed as it went. The sound of gravel crunching beneath the machine’s wheels mingled with the roar of the diesel engine. Chen was still laughing to himself when he asked, “The snowmen were stood in a carrot field, right?”

  “No my little friend they were not. It was just a regular field,” Tank said wishing he had never started the subject in the first place. Chen frowned confused and held on tight as the JCB accelerated.

  Grace Farrington signalled two units in readiness to attack. She indicated that infra-green vision was to be utilised inside the dark casino, and the agents snapped down night vision visors, which were mounted on their helmets. Faz smiled as she watched Tank hanging onto the controls of the giant machine as though his life depended on it, as it roared across the parking lot. It was now clear to all how they were going to breach the building and maintain the initiative. The element of surprise was essential in hostage situations. She could see Chen shifting levers that were to his left and the huge yellow bucket at the front of the digger lifted up twenty feet into the air. Its massive metal teeth gave the approaching digger the appearance of an animal as it roared across the car park toward the casino wall.

  Chapter 23

  Yuri/ Yusuf/ Saudi Embassy

  Yuri woke with a start when he heard the cell door slam shut. He heard the sound of a metal cup scraping as it was placed on the floor close to him; a similar sound came as a tin plate was placed next to it. He tried to move his limbs but they were numb. Pins and needles racked his hands and feet as he encouraged them to function. His black hood was removed roughly by the Saudi guard, and his eyes closed tightly against the harsh light.

  “What day is it?” Yuri asked hoarsely reaching for the metal cup of water. The guard ignored the question and left the small room closing the door behind him. Yuri had tried to keep a track of how long he was held captive. It was a basic military tactic learned by Spetsnaz forces, learning escape and evasion techniques. They were taught to gather as much information as they could whilst being held captive. Who had captur
ed them? ; How many the enemy numbered? ; What were the names he had heard used by his captures? ; How many days was he in captivity? ; The longer a soldier was in captivity the less likely he was to escape. Poor nutrition and the pain of interrogation would weaken even the elite special force operatives. Yuri estimated that he had been held for less than a week. He was tortured for the first three days and deprived of food, water and sleep. Yuri had witnessed enough torture sessions to realize that everyone breaks eventually, and that there is nothing to be gained from futile resistance except more pain. He had told the Saudis what they needed to know in the hope that they would kill him quickly or release him, but he was subjected to a brutal male rape. Male rape is a tactic often used to destroy the self-esteem of an enemy captive especially in the Middle East. The rape had left him with internal injuries and despite his best efforts he couldn’t stop the bleeding. He had torn a strip of material from his bed sheet and plugged the wound but it only slowed the bleed. Yuri knew that if he didn’t get medical attention soon he would die. The last two days were a haze. He had slept fitfully for long periods at a time waking only when the pain from the electric shock treatment and his internal injuries reached a crescendo. The Saudis had brought him food and water and there was no further torture. Yuri knew that this indicated that the information he had given them was confirmed. He also knew that he was of no further use to them. Death or freedom would come to him soon. He had lost too much blood to put up much of a fight, and he realised escape was not an option.