“Okay Mark. I’ll trust you my friend. But please do not betray this trust for it could mean my life, my career, my family. I don’t know how you know or what you know but for the time being I am going to treat everything you say as genuine solid intelligence on an imminent terrorist attack.”
John could not believe the words he just spoke to his friend, the fat banker, Mark. But he continued to speak as calmly as he could.
“But before I sound the alarm and risk my career and the lives of other undercover operatives I need more information – to be sure. Okay?”
“Okay, ask me and I’ll tell you what I can but please be quick, time is running out.”
Mark put his head in his hands and began to laugh ironically.
“What’s so funny, are you taking the piss Mark?” Asked an angry John.
“No mate, I’m not. It’s just in my vision you were the one trying to convince me to believe you! And we’re always running out of fucking time. Again I’m sorry, everything will become clearer – either making me right or bloody barking mad. But ask your questions. Please Just ask.”
A still angry John replied through gritted teeth.
“Do you know how many there will be and what do they look like?”
“12, there will be twelve at least – maybe more. They dress in all black and use AK47 assault rifles – and I only know that because you told me – how else would a banker know – I thought they were machine guns..”
“Anything else?”
“Yes, they are small and slender. Like children or women..”
These were the words that convinced John that Mark was telling the truth or at least his version of it. Captain Tailor’s unit had been monitoring a suspected terrorist cell based in East London and all of the observation and surveillance reports noted the diminutive size of the suspects.
“Okay Mark. Stay where you are and get your head down. I will alert the people who need to know, Organise an evacuation and will deploy a Quick Reaction Force. Just keep out of trouble and we’ll...”
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
It was too late. London and her citizens were under terrorist attack and the only man who could save them was banker Mark Andrews.
“This time I’m ready for you bastards. And this time I’m having that pint!”
THE END
Book Two - SAS Para-Ops: Shadow Sniper
Chapter One
Somewhere off the coast of Somalia near the Horn of Africa, heaving on the choppy waters of the Arabian Sea, the crew and un-armed security team of the Shining Star, a 300,000 metric ton, oil tanker look on as three small ships approach her from the starboard side.
“Pirates?” said an able seaman.
“I think so.” replied the third mate.
“What the hell are we going to do! This ship has been taken before” said the able seaman
“Why did the captain sail us so close to the coast, against my explicit recommendations” said the team leader of the unarmed security team - now trembling with fear.
The third mate said nothing. Daylight dimmed and was turning to night. The already choppy waters became more violent. Large, dark clouds formed above them.
“Oh God, that’s all we need!” said the able seaman who promptly ran inside and towards the relative safety of the crew quarters.
The two remaining men stood in silence watching the three distant pirate dhows get closer and larger. The pirate ships were making slow time against a moody sea.
“Well what are you waiting for man! Sound the alarm! I’m instituting a Red Alert. Let’s get everyone into the Citadel” said the security team leader.
“That’s not your call to make” came a steady, authoritative, voice from the officers gangway. “This is my ship and I am the only man who can make that call.”
“But Captain, retreating to the safe-room and calling for help is our only hope. They will take this ship otherwise and we’ll be held for months, maybe years.”
“No my friend it is not our only hope.”
At that moment a second man appeared behind the Captain and walked beside him and stood shoulder to shoulder.
“Who is that? I demand to know, as Head of Security of this ship I demand to know who is that man!” said the team leader who was growing increasingly more hysterical.
“Relax, young pup. All is well here. My name is John, Captain John Taylor. But you do not need to know that. Now take your men and the rest of the crew, or those who wish to follow you, and go lock yourself in the Citadel - You’ll be safe there.” said the mysterious man with broad shoulders and an even broader grin.
Chapter Two
Saturday Night. A concert at the O2 Arena in London. The biggest female pop star on earth is about to take centre stage and perform to a capacity house of 20,000 people.
Excited fans stream in from the Thames River on the high speed clippers also known as water taxis. People arrive from the London Underground’s Jubilee Line or soar across from the adjoining Royal Docks on the Emirates Air Line Cable Cars. North Greenwich is an absolute hive of activity – excitement soaks the air like an early morning winter mist.
Cheryl and her very best three BFFs are all dressed up and have somewhere to go. They have been waiting for this day for eight months, since the tickets went on sale and they secured theirs. Sold out in minutes, but they got theirs.
They’ve made the journey in from trendy West London, they don’t usually travel this far South. They’re on the Jubilee Line and their train has just arrived at North Greenwich station.
They giggle and scream with delight. Exit the train and walk to the escalators.
They’re attracting much wanted male attention. As the automated stairs take them to the top they see the station exit and feel the vibe and hear the joy. They’re happy and they know that tonight will be a very good night.
Chapter Three
Arabian Sea, Horn of Africa.
None of the crew or any of the security team or its team leader have retreated to the citadel. In fact as the news of the imminent pirate attack spreads, human nature takes over and curiosity gets the better of them. Slowly, nearly all the crew of the hulking vessel make their way to the ship’s deck to get a better look at the approaching Somali pirates.
In fact it was as much out of interest in the mysterious man standing next to the ship’s captain as it was the news of a looming attack. Who was he?
By now the marauding dhows were just close enough for the Shining Star’s crew to see the pirates brandishing their weapons – AK47 Assault Rifles and Rocket Propelled Grenades. Boarding ladders in clear view.
“Captain, now I implore you , we must get everyone into the citadel, now, please” said the third mate -- the man, according to the ship’s chain of command, whose responsibility it is to ensure the safety of the crew.
The security team leader nods silently and in exaggerated agreement.
CRACK.
CRACK.
The pirates fire warning shots into the water, signalling the tanker to slow down.
For the first time the ship’s captain looks nervous and glances at the gentleman standing next to him.
“Fear not, my friend. My man will get to work soon enough” said John Taylor.
“Who will get to work? What are you talking about?!” demanded the security team leader.
“A man under my command – he will begin work shortly. You need not worry.”
“Captain, what is this man talking about?” blurted the security team leader. “Who will get to work? What’s going on. We have a right to know.”
“Yes, you do have a right to know. The man standing next to me is a …”
“Contractor” said John Taylor.
“Yes, a contractor. And he and his..”
“Colleague.”
“Yes, his colleague are working for us, for the shipping company. As a favour from the United Kingdom to the Saudi Kingdom. You see, I am a bit tired of worrying about pirates and being kidnappe
d so I asked our King for assistance, assistance in seeking a more robust and permanent solution to these bastards of the sea. And here he, here they are.”
Chapter Four
The O2 Arena, London.
Michael Coote exits the North Greenwich Underground station. He’s with his best mate, Giles, and they’ve just arrived to see the world’s greatest pop diva in action. Well that’s their excuse anyway – in reality they’re out on the prowl looking for some beautiful girls who are up for a good time. It was Mike’s idea to come to the concert. He told Giles it would be a sure thing with the ladies.
“Concerts like that are always bursting with loose women looking for a bit of fun” he said.
And so far so good. As the pair exit the station he makes eye contact with four gorgeous girls. A wink and a smile and he’s in.
“I told you!” he says to Giles as he elbows him playfully in signal to follow him over to chat up the new birds.
He doesn’t know it yet but he’s about to meet Cheryl and her very best three BFF’s.
Chapter Five
Arabian Sea, Horn of Africa.
Choppy seas. Heavy driving rain and sporadic lightning in the distance.
“Sniper! A sniper! Your plan is that a sniper will kill those pirates, all 20 or so of them on all three vessels that are speeding towards us right now as we waste time standing here waiting for some unknown magic sniper to eliminate a very real threat!” exclaimed the security team leader.
“Exactly” said John Taylor with a wide grin.
“I don’t know what type of a clown you are sir or what your background is but I can sure as hell tell you one thing: I am a former Royal Marine commando and I have worked all over the world and I can categorically tell you that there isn’t a man on the planet that can kill 20 men on three different moving ships firing from a moving ship with any sniper rifle known to man! It’s simply too difficult, in this weather, on this vessel, in this light.. It’s absolutely impossible.. Now as Head of Security for the Shining Star I order everyone into the Cit..”
PHWOOP. PHWOOP. PHWOOP. PHWOOP.
PHWOOP. PHWOOP.
“What the hell was that!” said the security team leader as he looked behind himself and up high somewhere atop the Shining Star as did the rest of the crew members now standing on deck searching for the source of the strange and eerie noise.
Only Captain John Taylor still looks straight ahead, out to sea at the pirate vessels.
“You see. He’s begun.”
In unison the seamen swing around once more and look out to the Arabian Sea. They immediately notice that the lead pirate ship is slowing to a standstill and the six pirates on board it now lie motionless on the dhow’s floor - They’re all dead.
“Six shots, six dead. Your man is impressive, John” said the ship’s captain.
“Well if he had used any more rounds he wouldn’t work for me. I am surprised though, he usually opens with a ‘two for one’ deal. It must be the unusual weather.”
“That’s impossible, simply impossible” insisted the security chief. “You must have more than one man hidden on this ship. The odds of six kills in six shots in that time is a billion to one. It’s just impossible!” Hysteria was invading his voice.
The dozen odd pirates on the remaining dhows pull alongside their fallen friends in the lead vessel and assess the damage. They are now only a few hundred yards from the hulking oil tanker. After some discussion two of the pirates in line one behind each other raise their AK47 assault rifles and take aim at the Shining Star.
PHWOOP.
The two pirates drop dead - A two for one deal.
A third pirate hastily raises an RPG to take aim.
PHWOOP.
Before he can raise the weapon to shoulder level a bullet strikes his right wrist, instantly causing his index finger to squeeze the Rocket Propelled Grenade Launcher’s trigger.
BOOM.
The RPG fires into the floor and the dhow explodes.
The remaining pirates on the final vessel look dumbfounded. They stare at the merchant ship, dazed and confused, unsure of what to do next, knowing they could be next at any second, completely at the mercy of an unknown army of sharp shooters.
“Well what’s he waiting for John? He must finish them, he must kill them all.”
“No, captain. That’s not what we do. If they halt their attack and turn around then they will live another day. He will only fire if they continue their assault on this ship. If however they turn around he will let them live.”
“But John I was assured you would kill them all! I was assured of a robust response.”
“Is that not robust enough – 10 men dead in a couple of minutes!”
“I demand that you kill them all, now!”
“No. No captain. That is not how we operate. We follow a strict code.”
The remaining pirates finish a brief discussion. They’ve made up their minds. They start their engine once more and turn around. They’ve had enough. Or have they. The dhow and it’s powerful outboard motor circle round gathering speed, now heading straight at the merchant ship. And this time all the pirates lie flat against the vessel’s floor, AK47s and RPGs barely visible but pointed at the Shining Star.
Chapter Six
The O2 Arena, London.
Joy is in the air. Excitement builds as the star of the show arrives – making her trademark high profile Hollywood last minute entrance in a large convoy of high powered black SUVs with tinted windows. The O2’s parking lot is cordoned off with dozens of police officers in vehicles, on foot and on horseback. Dozens of security officers in high-viz bright yellow jackets line the way from the vehicles to the star’s entrance to the arena, creating a human corridor and guard of honour.
Fans line the megastar’s pathway behind crash barriers, taking photos, screaming hysterically, pushing, shoving - some faint. All want to see, to touch, to feel their idol. Nothing else matters. To them, nothing else matters.
In the middle of the uproar, standing there, silent and out of place is Mark Andrews. He’s wearing a suit, a dull and boring, nondescript suit. The type a banker would wear to work on a Monday morning.
He’s fully aware of what’s going on around him, where he is and who the superstar is but he is clueless as to how he got here. His eyes are closed.
Fireworks light the night sky.
KABOOM.
KABOOM.
The lightshow is magnificent. So magnificent that the fans look up. Look up into the night, light filled sky. Except for one man – Mark Andrews. His eyes open. He now stands on the red carpet only feet from the Lady and her entourage of managers, press relations people, bodyguards and hangers-on.
Mark feels a sensation of wind whizzing past his face. He does not move. He keeps looking straight ahead and he sees one of the Lady’s entourage fall to the ground. Then another, and another and another. One by one he sees them fall, lifeless, motionless, deathly still.
Time slows.
Mark sees the Lady’s entourage die one by one. And slowly the fans look away from the light, from the light in the sky and they cast their gaze at the star on the red carpet and they also see. They see what is happening.
Lady and her entourage are being cut down one by one. Small entrance wounds and speckles of blood appear on the victims’ foreheads and on their shirts. The bodyguards begin to react but as they react they are systematically slaughtered, one by one. One by one the bodyguards die.
The crowd begin to panic, to stampede. All hell is about to break loose.
Snipers.
Chapter Seven
Arabian Sea, Horn of Africa. Ten minutes prior to last pirate contact.
The man most other operatives only know as the final shadow, takes position on board the Shining Star. He and Captain John Taylor came aboard the ship the previous morning under the cover of darkness, flown in by chopper from a nearby special operations UK sea vessel, a state of the art nuclear attack ship.
He can see and hear his captain and the ship’s captain below him standing in the officers’ gangway. Some of the ship’s crew members are further below on deck. He is securely in position at the highest point of the massive cruiser – the radio tower.
His nanite suit is activated, connected to his weapon. To the naked eye he is almost completely invisible. The farther away one is from him the more difficult it is for him to be seen, from a reasonably close distance he is visible, not as a human figure, but more of a shadow. The nanites built in to the suit are anti-light, they are not dark, not black either but they actively work against absorbing, reflecting or attracting any type of light source. The result is an eerie form of shadow – the few military brass and the inventors of the technology both agreed the result was perfect for an active combat sniper. The suit creates an almost demonic appearance for its wearer or in more mundane terms it turns the person wearing it into a shadow.
For many months after the technology was created the great debate was who would use it – what infantry and which unit? The suit was far too expensive to roll out in any great numbers, so the inventors of the technology turned to the head of a very specialised covert operations group for assistance. Soon afterwards the suit, its creators and any trace of its existence vanished from the British MOD’s records. The accepted wisdom was that the tech and any prototypes of it were destroyed. The major factor behind the decision was the finding that the technology was completely scalable – it could be applied to any equipment of any size, including buildings and large weaponry, including WMDs. The timing of the technological breakthrough also came at a time when the discovery of WMDs was crucial to a war effort. So the tech was deemed too dangerous at the time and was ordered destroyed.
SAS Para-Ops: MEGA SET - SAS Para-Ops Books #1, #2, #3, #4, #5 & #6 Page 5
