Hunter was in position, waiting for Jago, as he walked up to him through the slow-moving crowd.
The pair leaned inconspicuously against the railing on the quayside, like many others around them. They peered over at the moored-up Seabreachers.
“How many do you see, Hunter?”
Hunter stared hard. “I see four, like you. Why?”
“Why are we not seeing three, as there should be?”
“Oh, I see. We’ve found our man, have we? Let’s take a closer look.”
“Let’s wait a few minutes. The crowd might disperse a little more, as there’s another demonstration in ten minutes.”
“Okay, sounds good. I’ll move over to cover the quayside entry.”
“Fine, I’ll head over to the quayside for a closer look.”
The four craft were lined up as if in some kind of formation, and a balding man in dirty overalls and a baseball cap was attending to one. He was on his knees and leaning into the canopy of the craft when Jago approached, startling him.
“Hello, you’re Dan, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I’m Dan.”
“Your man in the main display said that I’d find you here. I was interested in these little beauties.”
“Yeah, they’re great, aren’t they? Have you tried one?”
Jago was walking up and down, inspecting the four vessels.
“I haven’t tried one, no. I’d like to, but I’m on duty at the moment – you know, on the quiet.”
“Oh, I see. I see what you mean. Perhaps we can arrange a time when you’re off-duty?”
“That would be good. I’d love to. Listen, I thought that your mate said that you had three spare? How come there are four?”
“Oh, the one at the far end belongs to a fan of the group. He’s mad keen on joining, but can’t because his work takes him away a lot on business. He’s recently come back from somewhere called the Maldives, wherever that is. He’s joined us a couple of times now. He must be loaded. He bought the exact same model as ours and had it painted the same. He also donated some money for the local youngsters to have a go for free.”
Jago examined the Seabreacher at the far end, and sure enough, it had a few more holes than it needed.
“Sounds like a nice guy. Is he around?”
“No, not now. He was here about ten minutes ago. And then he went to meet his helicopter pilot mate for a drink in the Sail and Anchor bar.”
“I’d like to meet him. Perhaps he can help us with our outreach programme?”
“Perhaps he could. You can’t miss him. He’s an Asian fella, Indian or something similar, and he speaks great English – well, better than me, that’s for sure. Calls himself Bo. The bar is in that direction, near the market on South Terrace.”
“Thanks, Dan. It was good talking with you. And I might just take you up on that ride when I’m off-duty.”
Jago walked over to Hunter at pace.
“Get your men to spilt up. Half of them go to the Sail and Anchor bar and maintain observation only, and the other half scout round for helicopter landing sites. Call the chopper and ask them to assist.”
“Will do.”
Hunter got to work making his radio contact and calls while walking behind Jago, who was striding out towards the bar.
Chapter 5
As they reached the market, Hunter reported, “We’ve got three men in position and all report no movement in or out from anyone fitting our description. And it’s heaving in there.”
“How many exits are there?”
“There are three on the street and one behind.”
“And that balcony on the first floor, does it go all the way round to the other side? Is it joined to the adjacent building?”
“Hang on, I’ll check.”
Jago wandered around in the multitude of visitors, all the while observing the bar.
Hunter came back to him. “No, on the street side the balcony finishes at a service alley, and on the market side it finishes at the connection to the other building. With us here, we can cover all the exits plus the balcony.”
“But we have to sit and wait then, do we? Can we get extra officers?”
“No, they’re all over at Mandurah, helping out over there.”
“I thought you would say that. Where’s our helicopter?”
“He’s on the edge of town. Why?”
Jago explained what he needed, and Hunter arranged it. Within minutes, the helicopter was descending and hovering over Essex Street, facing the bar.
Jago turned to Hunter. “Now we have extra eyes. Come on, let’s flush him out.”
The helicopter’s draught was causing people to give it a wide berth and it had attracted the attention of those in the bar. So much so that most of the clientele had come over to the windows and main doorway to watch what it was doing. Meanwhile, Jago and Hunter entered the bar via the other two entrances. They paused, looking around the bar for their man, and Jago caught sight of feet scurrying up the stairs.
“Up there,” Jago called out, pointing towards the stairs.
Hunter was nearest and sprinted across the bar in pursuit, leaping up the first few stairs. When Jago reached the top of the stairs, all was still. The passage split left and right. Left would take them to the rear of the building, which was covered by one of their men, and right would take them towards the balcony, also covered. They went right.
They listened at the first door and entered, finding nothing. Jago looked out of the window at the windows and balcony of the adjoining rooms. It was all clear. They left the room, and Jago counted four more to go. There were too many rooms, and it was too risky. Their target would have time to plant anything.
They entered the next room and again found nothing. Before they left the room, Jago said, “Let’s contain them here. We’ve got the balcony covered by the road; one of us can watch the balcony from the window and one of your guys can cover the passageway. Are we sure there’s no other way out?”
Hunter reassured Jago, “They’re the only exits.”
“Okay, let’s hold for a few minutes. I’ll take the window here. You take the passage.”
“Okay.”
Hunter edged towards the door leading to the passage. He ducked low and peered around the architrave. It was clear and quiet, save for the background noise of the bar downstairs and the helicopter outside. Then a door opened, and a couple exited the next room, arm in arm. While maintaining visual contact with the couple and waving them past him to safety, Hunter reported to Jago over his radio.
“Couple exiting the next room. Over.”
Just as Hunter heard Jago acknowledging his message, another door opened and a grenade was thrown into the passage behind the couple. Hunter sprang to his feet and pulled the couple down and towards the room he had come from. The explosion rang out.
Amid the dust and debris, Hunter called out in agonising pain. He’d taken shrapnel in his left leg. Still, he continued to train his weapon down the hallway, protecting the couple from harm. Searing pain racked his body, and it seemed that perspiration oozed from every pore.
Jago ran up and pulled the unharmed couple into the room and dragged Hunter to safety. He turned to the man from the couple.
“Take off your belt and apply a tourniquet to his upper thigh. Pull it tight, and ignore his screams and protestations. He needs it.”
Then Jago heard loud banging.
“Hunter, what call sign is our man outside?”
“Err, Romeo 1, it’s Romeo 1.”
“Romeo 1, this is Control. Give me a sit-rep. Over.”
“Nothing to report. Repeat, nothing to report.”
“Damn, they’re going through the roof.”
“Hotel 5, Hotel 5, this is Control. Please observe the roof. Repeat, observe the roof. Over.”
“Wilco. Out.”
Within seconds the helicopter responded as Jago expected: “Control, this is Hotel 5. We have two males running over the rooftops, one of which is wearing
a pilot’s flying suit. We are maintaining visual. Over.”
“Negative, knock them off. I repeat, knock them off. Over.”
Surprised at the instruction, the pilot responded, “Did you say knock them off the roof? Over.”
“Affirmative,” said Jago. “I assume that you have no weapons to use, but what you can do is knock them off that roof. And I’ll pursue them. Over.”
“Roger that. Out.”
The helicopter crew spent a moment planning a pursuit that would avoid cables and lighting. Their targets were dipping in and out of sight as they negotiated the varying levels of rooftops and exterior stairways. Descriptions of the visuals were conveyed by the co-pilot for the benefit of the team on the ground, giving them directions.
The crew saw an opening, free from obstacles, and they went in close. One man was down below the roof parapet, while the other was just about to drop as the helicopter swooped low, just metres above the rooftop. The man toppled, off-balance, and fell downwards into the dark abyss between two buildings.
The crew reported this as they passed and then lost visual contact. As they turned to revisit the scene, they took incoming small-arms fire on their broadside, and the helicopter’s instruments made some alarming patterns and noises.
“Control, this is Hotel 5. We’re taking heavy fire. Have to abandon pursuit. Repeat, abandoning pursuit. Over.”
Jago was on a rooftop following the helicopters pilot’s dialogue. “Roger, Hotel 5, understood. Out,” he replied as he watched the helicopter bank right to leave the built-up area on a course for the outskirts of town.
The small-arms fire continued sporadically, and Jago spotted the shooter. It was the drone operator. He was standing on the railing of a fire escape and leaning against a tin roof. Jago took aim with his gun, controlled his breathing and squeezed the trigger, then rapidly fired a couple more single rounds. He observed his target and saw small sparks fly, distracting the shooter enough to leave the helicopter alone and go to ground. Jago thought, I must have hit his weapon for sparks to flash like that.
Jago slung his weapon over his shoulder and heaved himself up and onto the rooftop. He ran at pace across the slanting surface, his feet fleetingly making contact with the roof, as if he were a scree runner. The roof Jago was on was lower than the next, with a gap in between. Jago paused on bent knee about three metres short of the jump. He stood, observed, saw nothing. Then he ran, and leapt.
His hands grasped the roof edge, and he swung his legs up onto the roof. He fixed his gaze ahead. There was no one in sight. He glanced back and down the gap to see the crumpled body of the man the helicopter had put off-balance. A baseball cap-wearing member of the TRG was in attendance.
Jago called down, “Go three buildings farther up. We’re getting close to the end of the street. He has to emerge from somewhere.”
“Will do.”
Jago turned to see his target training his weapon on him. Instinctively, Jago rolled while holding on to the edge of the roof, and ended up hanging on by his hands three floors up. He lifted himself, and his view of the roof expanded. Seeing that his target was coming towards him, Jago had no time to heave himself upwards or bring about his weapon. He looked about him and saw the fire escape of the building he had left moments ago. It was a floor below him and about one and a half metres behind him. He brought his feet higher and arched his body slightly to create enough inertia to drive himself back towards the fire escape. As he pushed off with all of his strength, he twisted and grabbed the railing of the fire escape with a jolt.
He composed himself and brought his weapon to the ready position. His target appeared – head and then torso – and edged closer, as if he expected Jago to be clinging on by his fingertips. The man stepped closer to the edge and his eyes locked on Jago – who was looking down his sights. Jago fired as the man turned, hitting him in the upper legs and buttock area. The man scrambled away, sliding down the metal roof.
Jago reached for his radio. “Romeo 1, this is Control. Over.”
“Go ahead Control. Over.”
“Access the last building you saw me on. Our man is on the roof. Be cautious; he’s wounded. Over.”
“On my way. Out.”
Jago flew down the fire escape and leapt from the last few rungs to the ground. He looked upwards as he rounded the corner of the building and could see his target on the edge of the roof. Jago burst through the first door into the building, a gift shop. He looked for a door that would take him upwards, but the walls were covered with product displays. He turned to a flustered shop assistant.
“Where are the stairs?”
“Who are you?”
“Look, I haven’t got time to explain, but there’s a bad guy on the roof with a gun, and I don’t know what he’ll do next. I’ve got to stop him before he hurts anyone else.”
Fearful, the assistant pointed to a display of scarves. “There, behind there is the door to the stairs. Should we leave the building?”
“No, it’s safer inside. Call the TRG and let them know that Jago and Romeo 1 are on the scene.”
He didn’t give her time to check the message, but opened the panel and burst through the doorway, weapon at the ready.
“Control, this is Romeo 1. I am on floor three on the west side of the building. I have an open skylight above me. Over.”
“Conceal yourself and maintain a visual on the skylight. I’ll try to drive him towards it. Try to take him alive if you can. Over.”
“I’ll try, Control, but there are no guarantees in this game. Out.”
Jago rapidly ascended the wooden staircase, its walls bare to the plaster. All the rooms above the shop housed stock, with boxed products from floor to ceiling. He arrived on the third floor and looked for a skylight and found it blocked by a mountain of boxes. Stopping to listen for noise from above, he heard a shuffling sound on the tin roof. It was moving down towards Romeo 1’s position.
In a low tone Jago alerted Romeo 1. “Hello, Romeo 1, the target is on the move, shuffling towards your location. I’ll be with you directly, coming from the east corridor. Over.”
“Message received, Control. Over and out.”
Jago moved swiftly down the corridor. He passed one room that had a locked skylight and made a mental note of this as a possible entrance. But he knew that the target wouldn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to himself.
Jago reached Romeo 1’s location. He was a small unshaven man wearing a police armband and TRG baseball cap and he’d chosen a position behind some stock from where he could cover both the partially open skylight and the room down the corridor with the closed skylight. Jago nodded in acknowledgement to the man. The packed room was cool in the shade, and both Jago and Romeo 1 took advantage of the break. They momentarily relaxed and steadied themselves.
Then the shuffling from above became louder, closer. They waited, concealed from view from the skylight, for their target to drop down a few feet in front. They heard the clicking noise of the window catch and the squeak of the hinge as the window opened fully. There was a pause – the man was scanning his landing area, Jago assumed. Then, sure enough, he dropped into the space before them, and groaned in agony after landing badly on his wounds.
Jago and Romeo 1 emerged from the shadows, and Jago instructed, “Put the gun down.”
The man eyed Jago and Romeo 1, standing either side of him, slowly moving his head left, then right. Then, just as Jago repeated the instruction, the man turned the gun on himself and shot himself under the chin, splattering the surrounding stock with blood and bone splinters.
As the body fell to the floor, Jago moved in. He removed the man’s weapon and checked for signs of life. There were none.
Chapter 6
Jago sat beside Hunter. They’d dosed him up on morphine and he wasn’t making much sense. A nurse was recording his vital signs on a chart when two uniformed men entered the private room. The elder of the two men politely asked the nurse for some privacy and she left
.
“You must be Jago. I’m Major Creswell, operational head of the TRG for Western Australia, or plain old WA if you like.” He extended his hand to shake Jago’s.
Jago stood and, with a firm handshake, replied, “I’m glad to meet you, sir.”
“Look, Jago, I’m very sorry to hear your friend didn’t make it yesterday. And I understand that you might not like what I’m going to ask you, but ask I must. I mean, you and Hunter here pursued your targets relentlessly and we appreciate that, but this is just the beginning. We’d like you to come on board to finish the job. But I also understand if you want time to grieve and—”
Jago interjected, “I’m on board, but I need my team with me, and we all need access to what you have. We’re used to working together unhindered, and we get results. We’ll share everything we get with you along the way, and maybe we can get to places that your folks can’t, for whatever reason. If you allow my team to work with me, I’m on board.”
“And if I say no to your team?”
“Then we’ll carry on without you and get those responsible.”
“When you say ‘get those responsible’, do you mean apprehend them?”
“It means what it means. It’s up to them and the circumstances. I’m not particularly bothered which way they choose, to be brought in or taken down, as long as they can’t hurt anyone again.”
“I see. Then you’ll do whatever it takes to achieve our common aim?”
“Yes, I promise you that we’ll get those responsible.”
“That’s one hell of a lethal promise, Jago. Are you prepared for that?”
“Yes, I am, sir.”
“And your political masters, what restrictions have they imposed upon you? What are your limitations? You must have some.”
“My team and I are effective because we have no restrictions. We only have protocols and procedures, but no imposed rules; we have no rules of engagement or anything like that. We do whatever it takes to reach the end, professionally. We normally get paid well for what we do – you know, other people’s dirty, deniable work. But this job is personal and won’t cost anyone anything, except a little professional courtesy and the sharing of information.”
Lethal Promise Page 3
