by Tim Jopling
Bognor rushed down, taking two stairs at a time and reached the bottom, keeping his pistol out in front of him throughout. There was no sign of Olsen now, just an empty house.
From the staircase, the living room was ahead, with the kitchen and dining room beyond.
The Hungarian could see no sign of an exit out the front door. With too much debris on the carpet, the noise would have been a giveaway. Olsen’s profile and history told Bognor he was not one to back away from a crisis, especially in his own home. It was a certainty he was still around. Possibly still armed as well. Bognor started to move towards the kitchen, determined to crush the resistance and hear praise from Jozef on a job well done.
Olsen caught sight of the intruder through his obscured view from the storage area under the stairs. Although he was very tall himself, the attacker appeared several inches taller and twice his size. There could be no shying away though and Olsen made his decision. Giving a few seconds to steady himself, he burst through the door and bear hugged the intruder from behind, trying everything he could to disarm him.
Bognor was having none of it and tried to shake off the attack. He broke free and slammed one of his huge fists into Olsen’s forehead, knocking him back onto the floor.
Olsen tried to clear his blurred vision. At the sight of the target running with his gun not far behind, he had just enough time to launch himself upwards and kick the weapon out of his hand with a classic Akido move; it flew back and landed in the kitchen doorway. Olsen stretched out his hands and sized up his opponent, waiting for the right moment to inflict his first attack. As he lunged ahead, he wasn’t ready for such stealth and was punched hard into his stomach. Olsen fell back against the stairs but he still had some reflexes and kicked his attacker away again.
The men came to face each other and an eerie silence engulfed them.
Bognor’s gun was closer to him but he didn’t attempt to reach for it. He moved first, swinging at Olsen who saw it coming and issued a double blow to the chest.
The terrorist cried out in pain, Olsen moved in to take the weapon but Bognor recovered quickly, throwing himself on top of his target with speed.
Olsen didn’t react well to the fall and felt a large pair of hands seize his neck on impact. The grip was like a vice. Gasping as he struggled for breath, he attempted to break free with one final effort by slamming his fists upwards into his opponent’s ears. Bognor let go instantly and grabbed his own head. Olsen rolled free but had no chance to move for the weapon as another punch smashed into his side.
With alarming power, Bognor pounded his brick-like hands down onto the back of Olsen’s neck, causing him to shudder under the intense pain. Bognor seized the initiative, threw Olsen halfway across the living room and watched him crash into the window and collapse onto the floor.
Olsen stirred; there was blackness all around his vision. He tried to stand but his body refused and he dropped to the floor.
Bognor picked up his weapon from the nearby kitchen and turned in Olsen’s direction with a look of joy etched on his face.
Olsen looked around for something to delay the attack, anything to give him a reprieve but could see nothing. In his mind, his wife’s image took hold, silently hoping that Rachel had by now escaped by some other means and would at least survive the attack.
Bognor wiped some blood from his face and grinned. ‘You fought well, Sam. A little rusty though, hmm?’
Olsen stared at the owner of the huge smile. Victory was his. Of all the things he had been expecting in his future, the scene ahead of him had been totally unforeseen.
BOOM!
Bognor’s grip on the weapon faltered as he clutched his shoulder and dropped to the floor, leaving Olsen looking at someone in the doorway.
Ahead of him was young William Hawk, one of the many Agents who had been blazing his way through the MI6 ranks, the last Olsen had heard. His mind couldn’t take in all the events as he lay still on the floor.
‘Are you ok, sir? What happened here?’ He noted the look of confusion ahead. ‘It’s ok, we’re going to get you out of here.’ Hawk helped Olsen to his feet.
Olsen held onto his saviour and tried to take in the events of the last half an hour. He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘What’s all this about? Another one’s upstairs, I took him out. My wife, I have to get to my wife…’
An ironic smile came over Hawk’s soft features. ‘I’ll let my boss explain when we get back to HQ. Let’s get you to the car first, eh? I don’t know about you but I don’t fancy waiting around.’ He helped the battered Olsen out of the back door but his grip was broken.
‘No, no, no we have to get to my wife. Now!’ Olsen stumbled up the stairs, to where his wife was standing. He dropped into her arms and kissed her softly, so grateful that she was ok.
Rachel Olsen caught sight of her husband and a mixture of relief and shock took hold of her. ‘Sam? Are you ok? Look at you!’
Olsen summoned some strength from somewhere inside him and spoke as best he could. ‘I’m ok. A little beaten up but I’ll survive.’ He pulled his wife back and looked at her worried face. ‘This has something to do with my…former employers by the looks of things.’ He saw a look of dread on his wife’s face. ‘I know, I know, I don’t understand it either. Just understand that this is going to be ok. I promise.’
Rachel wasn’t convinced at all. Such a personal and vicious attack had completely stunned her and scared her so much. ‘I know baby, I know.’
Hawk stepped forward. ‘We really need to get moving. I’ve got my orders.’
Rachel noted the looks that were exchanged between the Agent and her husband, almost as if an agreement had been made, yet nothing had been said. ‘Where are we going?’
Olsen turned around. ‘You’re still going to Hampshire. I think I should go with him back to MI6.’ He noted the sudden panic on his wife’s face. ‘Rach, believe me, I know what you’re thinking but you have to understand that this was no coincidence. We were targeted. I have to-’
Rachel couldn’t believe what was happening. She shook her head and backed away, as if someone had just erased all the happiness and joy of the last few months. Tears welled up in her brown eyes and her heart ached with pain. How could he just switch back to the old Olsen so quickly? Go back to the man she had hoped with all her heart had become a figure of the past? Her voice was tinged with anger as she spoke. ‘Let the Police handle this, I don’t see why you have to go back with them, you left that place and they treated you so badly!’
Olsen could understand the anger he was seeing, his wife was in no way used to such acts of violence and the trauma of it all but he knew he was right. The attack had been personal and he was only considering returning to MI6 to ensure they could live their lives out together safely. But how could he convince her? ‘Listen to me Rach. This was planned for weeks, I’m sure. They wanted both of us dead and it’s probably all because of who I was. I can’t begin to tell you how that scares me. I don’t want to lose you ever-’
‘Then stay with me, it’s that simple!’
‘And do what? Wait to be killed? Sit back and be caught off guard and fail in the one thing I swore would never happen.’ He stepped closer to his wife. ‘When I proposed to you, I swore to myself I would never let my work come between us or worse, put you in danger.’
Nobody said anything for a while until Olsen spoke again.
‘I simply have to go back and at the very least find out what this is all about. You just have to believe me when I say I’m doing this for us. I am not going back to MI6 and picking up where I left off.’ He saw his wife consider this and then look away. He glanced at Hawk, waiting nearby and looking on edge, clearing wanting to leave as soon as possible. ‘I want the other car to take my wife to Hampshire as we were originally going to do. Is that clear?’
Hawk looked uneasy. ‘My orders were to bring you both back to MI6.’
‘Your orders have changed. I’m coming back with you and your partner is going
to take my wife to Hampshire. I’ll clear it with whoever’s in charge. Trust me.’
Hawk didn’t look comfortable but agreed.
Olsen turned around to see his wife walking out of the front door towards the other agent and his waiting car. ‘Rach! Wait up!’ As he ran after her, he was truly surprised to realise that he really didn’t want to go back to MI6 at all but wanted to stay with his wife and protect her. A voice inside kept reassuring him though that his choice to return to MI6, however hard, was the right one.
Rachel turned around with tears streaming down her face. She loved her husband with every inch of her heart but at that moment she was unsure if they had a future together. Was she wracked with fear over what had just happened and what might happen to Sam? Definitely. No matter how hard she tried though, she simply couldn’t forgive him for deciding to go back to MI6 so quickly and couldn’t for one moment think of her own safety. Her voice was hard and full of pain. ‘Just leave me alone Sam.’ She saw him reach out to her. ‘No! I’m going to my sister’s.’ Her soft eyes locked onto those of her husband and she felt pity for him. A man addicted to terror and she was married to him. ‘Just be careful.’
Olsen watched her go and saw the Range Rover car pull away. He waited for her to look back at him but it never came. Without realising it, he followed Hawk to the other car and tried to piece together the last hour. The fight, the fear and the realisation that his marriage to Rachel may be in serious trouble.
Ramsey entered Operations Command at MI6, three floors below the basement and found his assistant on the phone to one of the mobile units. ‘Status?’ There was no time for anything but the facts.
The assistant replaced the handset and addressed the new Chief of MI6. ‘Olsen was attacked by two assailants in his home. No answers on his home number or his mobile so Mobile Unit 1 has been dispatched. Olsen’s injuries are not severe; concussion and heavy bruising. One of the attackers is down; the second is being brought in. He was injured during the attack and I don’t know his condition.’
Ramsey was stunned and didn’t speak. As his assistant answered another ringing phone, he wondered how and why Olsen had become a target during the call up period. He looked away with the notion that someone may possibly be working against him and the service. One named instantly came into his mind. Burton! He pondered a possible link between Olsen being attacked and Burton deliberately withholding his files on the team. It was only circumstantial evidence - unless proof could be found. He looked again at his assistant.
‘The rest are in Briefing room one. Mobile Unit 2 is on its way with Carter and Gibbs and Jordon is on his way here from Scotland Yard, sir.’
Ramsey considered this, wondering whether the same group that attacked Olsen had the resources for a second assault. ‘How long until they get here?’ He asked in a state of alarm.
The assistant looked at the visual map on the large view screen. ‘About 20 minutes, maybe less, depends on the traff-’
Ramsey interrupted. ‘Have Mobile Unit 3 ready and waiting for me in the car park. I want them armed and ready to go.’ The MI6 Chief didn’t want to take any chances, knowing that Mobile Unit 2 could be a real target if there was someone working against MI6.
The assistant looked stunned at the news that her boss was leaving the building. ‘Waiting for you, sir?’ She ran after him. ‘Protocol dictates that you should stay here at all times sir, surely it would better if you-’
Ramsey was already running to the emergency exit doors. There wasn’t any time for a debate. He wasn’t about to lose two more S.U.C.O. agents without a fight. ‘Just do it!’ Ramsey left Operations Command and started running in the direction of the car park.
Upon reaching the car, he informed the driver to contact Mobile Unit 2, notifying them they would be offering additional support. ‘Damn the traffic, just get us there as soon as you can!’
Ferec took off the seat belt and got out of his car. A black baseball cap covered his blonde hair and he started to walk down the Albert Embankment, very close to MI6 headquarters, making sure of his surroundings. Ferec was dressed in black, with a long dark trench coat flapping in the wind. He could see the cream and sea green building of the Security Service ahead of him and crossed the walkway to sit down on an empty bench.
Half an hour before, he had been with his close friend Jozef. Together they had decided to expose Burton as the mole inside the Security Service. He remembered his friend’s rage at finding out that his former employers had saved Olsen and that Burton had failed in his task to prevent MI6 from reactivating S.U.C.O.
Ferec had never met Burton but from what his friend had told him, he was ineffective and now, subsequently, a liability. The assassin had been given the arduous task of framing Burton without implicating himself, Jozef or any others from their trusted group. Ferec lowered the cap on his head, raised the lapels of his trench coat and watched some of the workers he had identified from the previous day as MI6 workers. He had already decided what he was going to do and was now waiting for the most suitable pawn to use.
Several people passed him as his steely blue eyes inspected each individual. A medium sized woman in her forties walked by and a man of the same age in a smart looking suit. Both were ignored. Then, a young man of around 20 years of age strolled by. From his position, Ferec inspected every inch of the boy’s appearance and manner and took his chance. His slim but agile frame rose from the bench and followed the boy. Ferec’s instinct told him he did indeed work for the Security Service but he continued to follow him to be sure.
Ahead, the young man looked at his watch and saw he was running late. He fumbled in his pocket for his ID card and closed in on the entrance of MI6.
Ferec smiled to himself, felt the cold steel of the pistol in his lower trench coat pocket and within a few steps was right behind his target. He placed his free hand on the slender shoulder of the boy and led him away. The excitement and adrenalin rushed through his body, feeling like he was taking the ultimate risk in being just several metres away from the MI6 building. ‘Do as I say and I won’t drop you into the Thames like a stone’ said Ferec, in his deadly whisper of a voice.
The boy laughed, thinking a friend of his had set up a prank but then looked at the glaring face and felt his body go cold as he realised it was for real. He shrugged off the hand on his shoulder and tried to sprint away.
Ferec was far too quick for him, smashed into his neck with the side of his hand and then dragged him to the edge of the embankment, taking them both out of anyone’s viewpoint. ‘You will listen to me, or pay the price with your life.’ His powerful grip dragged the hostage to the edge of the embankment. ‘Promise to help me and I will let you go. Understand?’
The boy had now turned as white as a sheet and was attempting to call for help but he was so wracked with fear that he couldn’t make a sound. He nodded back at his attacker, desperate to convince him. Hearing the waves smash against the walls below, he didn’t feel confident of surviving the fall, let alone the swim.
Ferec could see the terror etched on the boys face and spoke again. ‘I’ll pull you back up now. Make a sound and you will regret it.’ He dragged the boy back to the embankment and pushed him against the dark green lamppost that was nearby. Ferec pulled out a brown envelope and stuffed it into the boy’s jacket. A rubber glove was held out in front of the hostage’s face. ‘The wallet I’ve just given you is to be placed into the internal post system of your office. Put it in any tray and it will reach its recipient. This rubber glove is to be worn when you hold the wallet, otherwise your finger prints will be detected.’
Now back on solid ground, the young man regained his composure slightly. ‘Yeah, so?’ he said in a cocky tone.
In a flash, Ferec whipped out his gun and shoved it into the boy’s mouth with deadly purpose. ‘Carry out my instructions to the letter. If you don’t…I’ll be waiting here for you every day until you die. You understand, yes?’ Ferec’s right hand trembled as he held the gun in the bo
y’s mouth. With every passing moment, he wanted to fire just for the sick thrill of the kill.
The terrorised look came over the boy again as the gun was taken away. He took the glove. ‘Ok, ok, ok! When do you want me to do it?’ Patting his jacket as he spoke made him turn an even whiter shade. ‘It’s not a bomb is it?’
A slight glimpse of compassion could be seen in the eyes of Ferec. ‘No bomb’ he said calmly. ‘Just photographs, of great importance. Put the envelope in the post system as soon as you can, in the lowest profile area.’
The boy tried to get a look at the attacker without showing it. The shadows given off by the baseball cap, together with the first drops of a rain shower, prevented him from obtaining a clear image.
Ferec saw the boy move away and felt the need for one more display of control. His right hand moved incredibly fast and wrapped itself around the target’s neck. ‘Do not fail me. Otherwise, I’ll be waiting. Crossing me will be the last thing you ever do.’ His light blue eyes watched closely and Ferec felt convinced he had chosen wisely. He pulled down on his black baseball cap and quickly walked away from the Security Service headquarters, merging with the foggy shadows that surrounded the area.
Nearly two hours later, Dan Carter looked at the rain pouring down on the window. Wearing black jeans, a dark purple shirt and a dark blue jacket, he watched the thick rain come down and wondered how things had changed so quickly. In the past ten minutes he’d been bundled into a Government vehicle with Nigel Gibbs, his former S.U.C.O. colleague from the Military base in Lambeth where they had both been based. Over the past few months, they had both been running specialist courses for the elite troops at the barracks and Carter had been happy to pass on his vast experience. The 29-year-old former S.U.C.O. agent had joined MI6 years before. He had enjoyed a brief spell at MI5 after some years with the Police Special Branch, where he gained valuable experience in surveillance and undercover work.
