Underground Murmurs (Akira and Deane Thriller Series Book 2)

by Tim Jopling

  Wheeler snapped a magazine into his Browning HP 9 mm MK3S pistol and signalled at the two other agents in the car to standby. Thoughts of his former S.U.C.O. colleagues flashed by in his mind as he noticed his deputy, a young woman, attempt to compose herself. Like most MI6 agents now, they were all lacking experience. We have to find an exit route and leave right now! Wheeler called the other Government car ahead. ‘Anyone, please respond!’ He looked up, saw three attackers pound the car with bullets and knew all was lost. ‘DRIVER! Get us out of here anyway possible; move this thing!’ As the car started to move, Wheeler locked onto Drake, who was now hyperventilating. ‘It’ll be all right sir, try not to worry!’

  BOOM!

  Fire engulfed the front of the car as it completely gave way under a heavy missile attack. Smoke filled the rest of the compartment.

  Wheeler came around quickly and saw that one of his agents was dead; there was no need to check, he had seen it so many times. The young woman nearby had a head wound and was frantically loading her weapon. Through the smoke, he could see the Police escort had been overcome but saw no sign of the attacker. Ahead, a sole surviving Government agent was doing his best to beat the odds. He locked eyes with the young woman. ‘Stay in the car and protect Drake and his aide. I’m going to help!’ Wheeler stepped outside and rushed to help his agent, immediately firing several rounds from his pistol. Straight away, cold fear swept through him and his senses registered every aspect of what he was facing. Screaming bystanders were running for cover, others were frozen to the spot, cars were speeding away and the sound of screeching tires, blaring horns and constant gunfire could be heard.

  It was utter chaos.

  Drake moved hysterically around in his seat as he watched the remaining agents attempt to fight back in vain. The sight of the nearby Police escort completely overcome turned his complexion a ghostly white and he grabbed the aide and the sole remaining agent and whispered with fear. ‘Please help me, oh god, please help…’

  Burton stood outside the Moon and Shine pub and looked up to the sky as he felt the rain begin to fall. He frowned to himself and wondered how much worse things could get. He considered darting into the pub for a quick drink but the sight of someone approaching made him think twice. Burton studied the individual and felt certain a weapon was concealed beneath the jacket. He was led around the back of the pub to a secluded alleyway.

  Burton made a point of giving the area a sweeping look, noting the only exit point was behind him. Ahead, another individual was standing around the corner but the Government agent could not make out who they were or what they looked like. To his surprise, ‘Harry’ stepped out of the shadows. ‘Harry’ was the man he had worked with just months before to get him out of the debt problems that were ruining him even then. Burton felt the memories come back to him as his family once again surfaced in his mind. Burton’s light green eyes studied the older individual. ‘What you doin’ here Harry? You behind this?’ Burton noticed for the first time that his former friend had a pale complexion and looked terrified.

  Harry stepped forward and raised his hands in apology. ‘Look Hal…I’m sorry about this ok? If I’d known they were coming here to the UK I’d be-’ Harry suddenly lurched back and screamed before collapsing on the floor.

  ‘Harry!’ Burton shouted out. Behind him, he heard a gun being cocked and saw smoke coming from a pistol ahead. Burton stepped forward to see who had killed his former friend but was held back by the tall, gaunt man behind him. His heart began to beat out of control as adrenaline flowed around his heavy frame. He tried to speak calmly. ‘Ok, I’m here. I’ve bought the information. What’s all this about? There was no need to kill my-’

  ‘Forget about your friend, he has served his purpose. What it is about does not concern you for now. Give the folders to my associate. For your sake, I pray that is everything you have. You will now work for us. Over the next days and weeks, your service may decide there is a need to recall some of the former S.U.C.O. agents. You cannot allow this to happen and you will be held responsible if it does.’

  Burton glanced up and to his sides and saw no others aside from the presence behind. ‘You’ve got your information, I expect that to be the end of it, you hear?’ Burton fell to the ground with a thud as he felt the butt of a gun impact on his back. As Burton struggled on his knees he decided to retaliate and reached for the pistol in his jacket. It wasn’t there! He frantically reached around in his jacket, telling himself it had come loose. Then he remembered. He had left the weapon on his desk. Burton cursed himself. Beside him, a wad of money dropped to the pavement. The voice from the phone began to speak again.

  ‘Here is £100,000 for your troubles. If you serve us efficiently, we will continue to pay you. Remember, your task is to stop any attempt by your Government to re-activate S.U.C.O.’

  Burton rose to his feet, holding the money in his hand. The strength had gone from his voice as he spoke quietly, feeling completely out of his debt. ‘Look, you don’t understand. I don’t have the influence to prevent something like that anymore. Maybe I can help in some other way, huh? I can get you a map of MI6 headquarters for another fifty grand, yeah?’ He heard no response. No one was behind him now and as he walked to the end of the alleyway he found that deserted too.

  Burton looked over at the motionless body of his friend and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t stop the thoughts of greed in his mind. Slowly he moved towards the body, lowered himself to the ground and carefully took the wallet from the body. He found the money he was looking for and quickly made his way back to the main street without any hesitation. Burton could feel the guilt forming but he pushed it away and made his way towards the Moon and Shine pub for a drink to steady his nerves.

  Wheeler finished firing, approached the remains of the second car and shook his head at the bodies that were sprawled out inside. He swallowed with regret as he saw one of his trusted agents slumped against the side door. The young man was only in his twenties and Wheeler couldn’t repress the guilt he was feeling.

  Turning back to the main vehicle, he just caught sight of a glimmering reflection on the scratched bodywork of the car as the sun continued to beam down. Wheeler spun around in time to see a wiry looking attacker carrying a large blade. His gun was out of his left hand without him even seeing the kick flash and he was pushed back against the wreckage. In the seconds that passed, Wheeler avoided the 10-inch blade repeatedly but his expression dropped further when a side door in Drake’s car opened. ‘No! Stay in the vehicle! Don’t get out, you stay put!’ Wheeler screamed at the top of his voice. Gunfire came from the location of the Police escort, blocking out his warning.

  The female MI6 agent panicked and made the decision to move Drake and the aide from the car as she watched her superior struggle with an armed attacker. A feeling of desperation took hold, as she wanted to help him but knew it was crucial to stay with the group she had been assigned to protect. The young woman noticed that the Police escort behind her had also been overcome but there were no signs of the attackers. She saw Wheeler continue to call to her but she forced herself to lead the others to safety. Drake and the aide were led down some steps leading to a nearby office block. A deafening noise filled the air as the nearby aide collapsed under heavy fire. The young woman wasted no time and grabbed Drake by the shoulder, rushed down the stairs and returned fire behind her, still not able to clearly see the attacker.

  Wheeler cursed loudly as he moved from the Scandinavian format of Glima to the French kicking style of Savate, wheeling his right leg around at such a pace that it slammed into his attacker’s hand, knocking the knife away. Wheeler didn’t let the moment pass and moved in quickly with several more crushing blows and then reached for his backup pistol, concealed on his right ankle. He hesitated for a moment; not wanting to take a life unless he really had to but the look of anger he saw made his mind up. He fired two precise shots and watched the attacker drop to the floor.

  With no time to spare,
Wheeler looked up sharply to hear the scream of his sole remaining agent as he fell to the ground under a hail of bullets. He rushed to his superior’s aid. Drake is on his own, goddamit!

  Ferec continued firing, making sure the female agent would not be getting up again. He moved from his crouched position behind one of the wrecked cars and rushed to the steps ahead as he heard Police sirens in the distance. Not much time; I have to finish this! During his short run to the nearby office block, movement just caught his vision.

  Wheeler approached the man who had moved so quickly from the car to the stairs. His pistol was out in front of him as he approached slowly. ‘FREEZE! Do it right now or I’ll blow you into next week!’ The man complied. ‘Throw the gun away!’ Wheeler watched the target stand still, a weapon still in his hand. ‘It’s over! You hear those Police cars? DROP IT!’ Wheeler shuffled closer.

  At the nearby office steps, Drake knelt against a window, shaking with fear. Just barely, over his rapidly beating heart, could he hear Wheeler’s voice. The gradient from the steps in his line of sight prevented him from seeing exactly what was going on but his pulse rate and stress level began to drop slightly as he could hear the nightmare situation being brought under control. The sound of Police sirens in the distance made him realise he would soon be safe and back at MI6.

  Chapter 2

  Tuesday, July 24th 14:00,

  Westminster, Central London.

  Wheeler fired a warning shot and controlled his fear. ‘I SAID GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!’

  Ferec heard the order as his eyes glanced around to see what he could do to change the situation. Before he completed his scan of the area, he noticed his ally behind the MI6 agent reach for a nearby pistol that was several feet away from the burning wreckage of the first car. His friend looked seriously wounded with blood all over his face and chest and was visibly shaking. Ferec desperately hoped he would get his reprieve. He willed his friend on.

  Ferec complied with Wheeler’s terms and slowly lowered himself to the ground, giving his friend long enough to steady himself. An anxious look was etched over his features as a single shot rang out and the sole remaining MI6 agent dropped to the floor, clutching his neck. With time running out, Ferec picked up his weapon and approached the stairs. He could hear the sirens growing ever closer.

  Drake continued to look around as he waited for Agent Wheeler to appear at the top of the stairs and take him to safety.

  Wheeler never came. Instead another man appeared. Drake immediately felt so sick with fear that his body began to uncontrollably shake.

  Ferec reached the top of the staircase and saw the realisation dawn on the Chief of MI6.

  Drake crawled back several steps and listened intently for something, anything, to save him. He kept expecting one of his security personnel to appear. After several seconds had passed, he got to his feet and put his hands out in front of him. His mind was racing so fast, he could barely speak. ‘I-I-I promise you deportation only, if you drop the gun.’

  Ferec listened to the pathetic attempt for mercy and felt a sick thrill at allowing it to continue. Only the Police sirens that were getting closer made him reconsider. He gave one shake of the head and fired several shots that landed right between the eyes of his next victim. Ferec watched the body flail in the air and then drop to the ground in a heap. The deadly killer smiled perversely to himself as he watched the blood slowly seep out of the body and spread across the concrete.

  Seconds passed but Ferec still didn’t move, as if the passing moments were feeding him energy and satisfaction. Slowly, he put away his weapon and turned around. He removed several parts of his black outfit and turned them inside out, revealing civilian looking clothes.

  Several feet away, a fading Agent Wheeler opened his eyes and felt the failure spread through him. The pain in his neck was brutal and was beginning to consume him as a pool of blood appeared around him. He made one more attempt to move but blacked out.

  Just under half a mile away and over an hour later, Prime Minister Jacobs could sense something had happened. The buzz of 10 Downing Street went with the territory but as he walked confidently down its hallowed halls, the atmosphere appeared to have an added edge. As he came to the door of his private office, his Chief Advisor and most respected spin doctor in the world of politics was waiting for him. He had seen the face a thousand times and could read it well, immediately detecting the importance of what he was about to hear. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘We need to leave right now.’

  ‘Leave?’ He felt his advisor grab his right arm but Jacobs was having none of it. ‘Wait! What’s happened?’

  ‘There’s been an attack not far from here and it’s too close for comfort, we should leave.’

  Jacobs shook off the guiding arm of his advisor and sat down at his desk. ‘With all the security in place, no doubt heightened with this attack, we are quite safe. I’m staying. Now, will you please tell me what’s going on?’

  Inside his private office the afternoon sunshine beamed in, illuminating the huge desk in the centre of the room. Several phones were spread out across the surface. In the adjacent corner, two large black leather chairs with a drinks cabinet in the centre sat alone, awaiting their next historic moment.

  ‘Very well, sir. The attack took place just a few minutes from here; a calculated attack. I’m sorry but Peter Drake was killed. Everyone in the party that visited here just an hour before is dead, with the exception of Drake’s Head of Security. An Agent…’ He ran a skeletal finger down the checklist in his right hand. ‘Wheeler. He’s been taken to the nearest hospital in critical condition. It doesn’t look good.’

  The words lingered in the air, some circling in Jacobs mind. Attack…Drake…dead…critical. He recalled his meeting with Drake just hours before, the smile he had seen and the trust he had felt. ‘Everything was under control though.’ He said quietly. ‘There was no danger, no chance of an attack. Drake was adamant.’ Putting his hands to his head he couldn’t help himself and thought of every individual that had perished because of his and Drake’s short sightedness.

  The Chief Advisor watched the anguish spread across his leader’s face and felt the need to say something. ‘Sir…we must do something. At least before-’

  A knock on the door revealed a senior aide whose gaze immediately locked onto the Prime Minister, who was slumped in his chair.

  ‘I ordered no interruptions!’ Snapped the gaunt looking Advisor.

  The aide nodded quickly and moved back towards the door. ‘I think you should check the news, sir. It may be for the best.’

  As the door closed, the Advisor did just that, turning on the large black 32-inch widescreen television that was in the far corner. He cursed silently under his breath at the images in front of him.

  BBC News 24 had somehow picked up on the attack and had already positioned a journalist at the scene who was giving a live and very detailed report.

  Listening closely to what was being said, he thought about the next move. There is still a chance we can cover this with a smoke screen and make it seem like a random attack. His mind raced through possible statements but stopped suddenly when the graphics changed and the word MI6 appeared on the ticker bar at the bottom of the screen. ‘SHIT!’ The Advisor threw the remote control at the set and turned around. ‘This is a serious situation sir, we have to put out a statement as soon as possible.’

  Prime Minister Jacobs was taking in the live report and looked up to see a determined face. ‘The moment they mentioned MI6, all the work that Drake and I have done in the last few months has been undone.’

  ‘Drake was just a number! An employee! Get someone in on a temporary basis, deny all knowledge of MI6 being involved and we’ll put out a statement saying it was political activists and that we’ve made an arrest.’ He stepped closer and had a look of drunken power all over his face. ‘Think of the Olympic games! You’re the Prime Minister. You can say whatever you want. We cannot admit this to anyone.’
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  The cold stare in his Chief Advisor’s glare didn’t surprise Jacobs. It was in times of crisis that he proved himself the most decisive of the cabinet staff, just not always the most considerate. ‘All the people we saw this morning, bar one, are dead. All of them murdered. I will not deny it.’

  ‘I’m not saying we deny what happened, just the very mention of MI6.’ He stepped forward again. ‘Do you want a second term? The next General Election is in 12 months! We need to think long and hard about what we make our priority-’

  Jacobs rose from his seat and silenced his Advisor with just a look. For the first time since he had entered he office, he looked like the Prime Minister he had been for the last three years. ‘It’s too late. Issue a statement that the Chief of MI6 and his aides have been murdered in a vicious and callous attack. Make it clear that we are now on the highest security alert and will stop at nothing to bring those responsible to justice. The statement will go out in the next ten minutes, I suggest you make each one of those count.’

  The Chief Advisor lingered near the desk. ‘Are you sure you want to mention MI6?’

  ‘Those people died for that Security Service, I will not allow them to die under a lie. It’s clear both Drake and I have clearly underestimated the threat that is facing us and the rest of Europe. I can’t be seen to be faltering in a time of crisis.’

  The Chief Advisor waited a moment and a thought of deceiving his leader came into his mind but he pushed it away, not wanting to make the same mistake twice in the space of a year. ‘As you wish. What of MI6, sir?’

  Jacobs sat back down and thought about the previous months and the attitude Drake had brought to MI6. Clearly an attitude that was behind the times and incapable of dealing with the terror we are facing. Instantly, one name came to the forefront of his thoughts. ‘Get Kevin Ramsey here in the next 15 minutes.’