by Hatchett
The pilot turned on the weapons system and selected a hellfire missile, its name coming from the term ‘heli-borne, laser, fire and forget missile’. He turned the Apache’s running lights off before placing his finger on the trigger and aligned the laser beam towards the curve in the road.
The pilot knew that it would only be a matter of seconds before the truck came around the curve and, as he was thinking this, he saw the headlights appear, lined up the laser and pulled the trigger.
58
Day 7 – 21:45
Tower of London, Tower Place East
The snipers had agreed amongst themselves which guards they would target; they had effectively agreed that they would take two sides of the Tower each, Alpha snipers would take the Western walls closest to them and the Northern walls while Bravo snipers would take the Eastern walls closest to them and the Southern walls. That way, their arc of fire was as narrow as possible.
The guards, or ‘Tango’s’ as the snipers referred to them, were in pairs; two on each side of the outer wall and two on each side of the inner wall, all of them looking inwards, more interested in watching the party, moving in time to the music, chatting, laughing and smoking. Their guns were slung over their shoulders and they had no thought of anything outside the Tower. After all, who would be foolish enough to try and gain entry? They’d be dead before they got within a hundred yards, and even if they did manage to get close, they could hardly walk through the portcullis or the walls.
Although the snipers had been watching the guards for some time, there was a very slight possibility that there could be others shielded by the lee of a building or internal tower. Therefore, once they had taken out their targets, they would all scan the rest of the ramparts for any movement and provide cover for the teams on the ground.
So, they had sixteen tangos between the eight snipers, two targets each. Straightforward, apart from the odd guard getting a bit exuberant with their dancing and making the shot a bit more of a challenge. There was only a light breeze, so this was not a factor. They could take their time lining up their first shots but would need to be a bit quicker for the second. They didn’t think there would be much reaction from the guards, but you never knew.
“On a count of three. Three, two, one, go!”
Eight shots were fired, all suppressed and unheard from within the castle. The first four shots from the Alpha snipers took out the two tangos on the outer Western wall and two tangos on the inner Western wall, all clean head shots. At the same time, Bravo snipers took out the four tangos on the two Eastern walls. There were small clouds of blood before the tango’s dropped like puppets with their string cut.
A guard on the Southern wall thought he saw brief flashes of light on both sides of his peripheral vision. As he turned to look Eastwards towards the source of the light it was already too late. An 8.59mm round entered his forehead before exploding out of the back of his head, taking half of it away in a spray of brain, blood and bone.
Both Alpha and Bravo snipers quickly scanned the area, looking to see if they had missed anyone, or if anyone had noticed.
“The deck is clear,” came the confirmation through the earpieces, “I repeat, the deck is clear. We’ll provide covering fire when needed.”
59
Day 7 – 21:50
Stepney, East London
Mamba was driving the armoured truck and had been arguing with the others since they had left the Tower. With him in the truck he had the people he could trust the most, although that wasn’t saying much. Ahmed sat next to him with Dodge on the other side of him. Skelly, Bird and Smiley were in the cabin behind, sharing the space with weapons that Mamba had liberated from the gang’s stash at the Tower.
“I still don’t understand why we’re doin’ this,” Skelly moaned from behind.
“I’ve fuckin’ told you a thousand times, I’ve just got a bad feelin’ and I don’t trust that fuckin’ Danny Boy! Too fuckin’ smug for his own good.”
Mamba turned into Butcher Row from the South. ‘Nearly there’ he thought to himself.
“The Judge will fuckin’ skin us alive,” Bird suggested.
“Of course he fuckin’ won’t you idiot. If everythin’s ok, we go back tomorrow and just say we were checkin’ on the families.
As he was finishing the sentence Mamba eased the truck around the curve in the road and saw something coming towards him. He instinctively jerked the steering wheel to his left, and thankfully just missed a large oak tree and some bollards. He was aware of a massive explosion and the truck somersaulting into the air and hitting something hard before everything turned black.
*****
“Armoured truck down,” the Pilot of the Apache advised, “repeat, armoured truck down.”
He turned the running lights back on before taking the Apache back up and forwards in the direction of the crippled truck, switching to the cannon just in case it was needed. He flew over the railway bridge heading for the smoke and flames, being careful not to get too close to the branches of the oak tree which was partly shielding the stricken vehicle.
“I can’t see anyone surviving that,” the co-pilot commented, as he looked at the mangled wreck of the truck under the harsh glare of the heli’s spotlight.
“Even if they did, they’re zombie fodder,” the pilot replied before taking the Apache higher, banking towards the West and flying back towards the Tower, ready to provide cover.
60
Day 7 – 21:50
Green Park Estate, Stepney, East London
The Lynx heli carrying Bear, Irish and four soldiers descended slowly towards the roof of the Green Park Estate. The Lynx didn’t have night vision equipment like the Apache, so it was difficult to see the roof and where to land. The occupants were all looking down and around carefully to try and work out the lie of the land and determine how many guards were up there. After all, they’d not had the chance to do a pass and they’d never been there before, plus the lighting was shambolic. The only good thing was that the guards were used to seeing the other Lynx and, as this one looked the same, they would assume it was Mamba and be off their guard, giving Bear and his Charlie Team the element of surprise. Well, that was what Bear was hoping. At least they hadn’t started shooting.
The Apache co-pilot had earlier suggested that there might be four guards and the consensus in the Lynx was that this was correct. Two men could be seen talking together near what appeared to be the entrance to the staircase and the other two were on different parts of the roof, scanning the ground below them. All of them were smoking something and all were silhouetted by the odd light source. Their attention had switched to the Lynx as the heli descended.
As the wheels touched down, Samata came through on the comms, “We’ve located eight other guards and I’m on the way to the roof to guide you.”
“Thanks, Samata,” Bear replied, “we’ve just arrived. There’s four up here and we’ll deal with them first.”
As the engine was turned off and the rotors slowed, Charlie Team switched off the safeties on their MP5’s and Bear allocated the tango’s.
“Let’s go,” Bear ordered, and the doors on either side of the aircraft were opened simultaneously. Bear and Irish quickly got out on either side and moved a few steps towards the front of the aircraft. As they went, they heard four quick shots behind them, muffled by silencers, but followed by the sound of bodies hitting the concrete floor and guns clattering across the hard surface. The noise alerted the two guards by the staircase and they had dropped their smokes and were fumbling for their weapons as Bear and Irish took them out.
“Make sure,” Bear ordered as he walked up to the two guards and stabbed his Bowie knife into each of their heads. He heard the soldiers behind him doing the same thing before trotting to catch up with him.
The six of them waited, MP5’s pointed in the direction of the staircase.
“I’m here,” Samata spoke through their earpieces.
“Come out slowly. If the
re’s anyone with you who shouldn’t be, cross your arms as you come out,” Bear ordered.
“I’m alone,” Samata replied as she stepped out of the doorway onto the roof. She looked around and took in the bodies a few feet away. “Never did like them two,” she added, before turning and moving in Bear’s direction.
Bear stepped forward to shake her hand and introduce his Charlie Team. “So, where do we stand? We have eight tango’s left?”
“Tango’s?” Samata asked, clearly puzzled.
“Targets. The remaining guards,” Irish explained.
“Oh, right,” Samata murmured. “Well, four of them are in their rooms and I have people watchin’ in case they come out. The other four are down by the front gate outside, in what we call the Dead Zone.”
“It will be before we’re through,” Irish remarked.
Charlie Team moved across to the front wall of the building and cautiously peered down. There were quite a few people down there, lit by the flickering flames of several fires. Despite the poor quality of the light, it was not difficult to pick out the ones carrying guns as the metal was glinting in the firelight. Samata glanced over the wall and confirmed Bear’s suspicion that these men were gang members.
“Look at all those fools. I tried to warn people to stay indoors, but will they listen?” she commented.
“Don’t worry, we’ll take the rooms first. Hopefully they will be asleep. Lead the way.”
Samata took Bear, Irish and the four soldiers into the stairwell and down the staircase. “The people we trust know that you’re comin’, but there’s a lot that don’t. So, we need to be careful that no one raises the alarm.”
They carefully made their way down the darkened staircase until they reached the ninth-floor landing, where a young African man was waiting for them.
“This is Micky,” Samata advised. “He’ll guide you to the first flat while I stay here. I can’t be doin’ with violence.”
Charlie Team nodded to Micky who nodded back and quickly led them along the deserted open-air corridor. “We’re goin’ to number 923. I’ve been watchin’ for the past few hours and, as far as I can tell, he’s in there alone.”
As they approached flat 923 Micky pointed towards the door and carried on walking before disappearing into another flat further along.
“I guess we’re now on our own,” Irish remarked as two soldiers readied their MP5’s and Bear knocked on the door.
There was no answer, so Bear knocked again, louder this time. There was some noise from inside the flat before they heard someone shouting, “Who the fuck is bangin’ on my door? You betta have a fuckin’ good reason at this time, man!”
The door was swung open wide to reveal a large black man in his vest, boxers, and nothing on his huge feet. As he raised a hand to his mouth to stifle a yawn two bullets hit him in the face and he crashed backwards onto the floor. Bear moved forward and plunged his Bowie knife into the gang member’s head to make sure, before returning to the corridor and closing the door behind him.
“Five down, seven to go,” he remarked to no one in particular, before heading back in the direction of the stairwell and the waiting Samata.
The next two gang members were taken out the same way; Samata took them to the relevant floor and there was someone there to guide them to the right flat. Seven down, five to go.
As they descended the stairs to the fourth floor they heard the footsteps and voices of a group of people on the stairs or on one of the corridors below, it was difficult to tell which with all the echoing off the concrete. The team stopped and listened, weapons at the ready, but the sounds slowly faded as the people moved away. Samata let out the breath she had been holding before continuing down the stairs. “Not doing my heart any good at all,” she commented before introducing the next guide.
The guide moved off with the team following, “He’s in there with his girl,” the guide noted before pointing to the door and making himself scarce.
Charlie Team could hear music coming from inside the flat so this one was obviously wide awake.
“What about the girl?” one of the soldiers queried.
“Not a tango,” Bear replied, “unless she gets in the way.”
The team lined up as they had for the previous flats and Bear once again knocked on the door.
“Fuck off, I’m busy!” came a shouted response from inside.
“Charming!” Irish muttered.
Bear knocked harder and they heard more swearing, but no one came to the door.
“Kick it in,” Bear ordered.
“I’ve got it,” one of the soldiers advised confidently. He took a pace back while the others got out of the way then he launched forward with a hard side kick. The door was cheap and thin, and the soldier’s leg went straight through the panel and left him dangling and off balance. The door was rattling a bit but was still closed as the soldier rolled onto the floor and pulled his leg back out of the hole he had created. His colleagues struggled unsuccessfully to keep themselves from laughing.
“Motherfucker, you’re dead!” they heard from inside the flat as a bullet came through the door a foot or so above the soldier’s head. He instinctively ducked and quickly crawled to the side of the doorway for cover before getting back up to his feet.
The team heard footsteps coming towards the door and quickly got into position either side of it. The door was flung open and a black hand appeared holding a shiny silver revolver. Bear grabbed the man’s wrist and forced it straight up into the air in one smooth motion as another shot was fired into the concrete ceiling of the corridor above their heads before ricocheting out over the balcony. The soldier crouched on the other side of the doorway from Bear already had his MP5 ready and let off two quick shots as the gang member’s head came into view. The first bullet hit the man under the jaw before travelling up through the roof of his mouth and into his brain before taking off the top of his head in a splatter of blood, brain, and bone, which stuck to the ceiling then started dripping back down to the floor. The second bullet was largely irrelevant except to create more mess. The dead body crumpled to the stained brown carpet and for the first time the team noticed that the man had been completely naked.
There was no need for Bear to use his Bowie knife on this occasion as there wasn’t a great deal left of the head to stab. He looked into the flat and could see what looked like a naked young woman grabbing for something to cover herself as she started screaming.
“I guess that’s the element of surprise gone,” Irish muttered sarcastically as he took a quick look over the balcony. In the area below, people were running in all directions like headless chickens before Irish spotted the gang members and their guns aimed roughly in their direction.
“Down!” he screamed and dove to the ground as the first shots were fired. The bullets thudded into the walls either side of the flat’s door, chipping away bits of masonry which exploded outwards like shrapnel from a hand grenade.
“Spread out!” Irish ordered as he started crawling down the corridor, swiftly followed by the others. “Back three, stay here!”
Irish and two of the soldiers who were right behind him crawled all the way to the cover of the stairwell where Samata was now cowering. Irish stood up and ran straight past her into the corridor opposite, and the two soldiers with him followed suit. They all crouched before entering the other corridor, so they could not be seen from the ground. After a dozen steps they stopped and turned to check that Bear and the other two soldiers were where they left them. Irish showed three fingers to the two colleagues with him and began a countdown. On zero, they all lent over the balcony, their MP5’s trained on the Dead Zone below. The area had cleared during the past couple of minutes except for a couple of the gang members who still had their guns trained in the direction of the flat where the screams were still coming from. Irish and his two colleagues opened fire and the two gang members crashed to the ground in an explosion of red before the sub-team quickly made their way back to
the stairwell.
As Bear and the other two soldiers stood up and walked to meet up with them, Irish saw that Bear looked to be bleeding heavily. “You ok?” he asked as the big man arrived. “Where’ve you been hit?”
“Flesh wound,” Bear replied with a grim smile. “Just got nicked on the arm, but its bleeding like a bugger.”
Irish turned to the four soldiers. “Cover the lifts and the stairs, both up and down in case they’re smarter than we give them credit for and tell the heli pilots to be on guard in case they go back up there.”
Irish led Bear back towards Samata, who was watching events unfold with fascination. “Where can we get some water?”
“My flat is on this floor,” Samata replied, “follow me.”
Irish and Bear followed Samata to her flat, keeping a close check on the Dead Zone below. The flat was full of Samata’s friends and relatives, many of them looking out of the windows trying to see what was going on outside. Samata pushed past everyone, ignoring their questions, and headed straight to the bathroom. She grabbed a cloth and ran it under the tap while Irish used his knife to cut away the sleeve of Bear’s clothing. Samata then wiped away the blood, revealing a nice angry red furrow along the outside of his biceps and triceps. “You betta go,” she said to Irish as she opened her medicine cabinet. “I can deal with this.”
Irish left the flat and quickly looked over the balcony before running back to the stairwell to catch up with the four soldiers standing guard.
“Anything?” he asked as he arrived.
“Nothing,” replied one of the soldiers.
“Ok, two to go,” Irish advised.
61
Day 7 – 21:50
Tower of London, Inner Ward
Issy had been watching two guards on the inner wall and saw them fall and disappear from sight before she received confirmation from the snipers that she was clear to go.
