Red Mercury

by M. W. Fletcher

  He squeezed the trigger, he immediately noticed how the single-stage trigger pull was light, and crisp, Max held the trigger back for a few seconds, before releasing it.

  The round left the rifle and in a micro-second had found the target, a six-foot high and nine inch thick wall that it penetrated with ease, as the round exited the wall it exploded and as it proliferated, the round smashed into the secondary target; a life size mannequin filled with red dye.

  Everyone observing the target area immediately observed the secondary large wall behind the hidden mannequin, which was instantly streaked in the red dye.

  Max thumbed the safety on the weapon and removed the magazine; he checked the chamber was clear and said aloud, “clear! Weapon safe!”

  Along with Colour sergeant Johnson, they stood up and Max said, “well sergeant; it appears you have come up trumps with this rifle, it gives great feedback just like driving a sports car!”

  Johnson replied, “Yes sir, it’s some beast.”

  The group behind them walked over to them, Max handed the rifle over to Roy Smith operational code name Eagle 4.

  Sergeant Johnson said, “Let me introduce you to Mr Neil Clayton, from Accuracy International.”

  “Neil; this is Colonel Storm.”

  Max extended his right hand and both men shook hands.

  Max said, “Nice to meet you Neil, you have certainly created a superb weapon.”

  Neil Clayton was a short man in his late fifties, with a nearly baldhead, he replied, “Sergeant Johnson was the brains behind it, we just provided the materials and technical support.”

  “So; what’s the story on the 50 calibre round Neil?”

  Neil Clayton replied, “It’s designed for hard targets including armoured personnel carriers; however it will rip apart a soft target, as you have just seen the soft target behind the wall was hit. As the round exits in this case the wall, the secondary target is hit by the shot just like a shotgun round.

  “When will we have them available Neil?” Replied Max.

  “We are ready to produce, todays evaluation will endorse the product Colonel.”

  Strayker had been listening to the conversation and said, “well you have our approval, shall we now retire to the canteen for a hot drink, Mr Clayton.”

  “That would be most welcome sir,” replied Mr Clayton.

  Strayker said, “you too Max, we will leave the men to have some practice with the rifle.”

  “I will follow you over sir, I will just have a word with them,” replied Max.

  Strayker and Mr Clayton walked away and Max walked over to the team leaders.

  Roy Smith eagle 4 was five-foot eight inches tall with broad shoulders, his light coloured hair was shaven to a number one cut and he spoke with a Geordie accent he was a good friend of Max’s.

  Colin Bishop eagle 5, who was 24 years of age; he had a boyish face and blonde hair in a short back and side’s style.

  At a height of 5 foot 9 inches, his slim body did not do his physique any justice when in his cloths.

  Before moving to the OSC, he had been in the Parachute regiment for five years, starting his career in 2 Para after three years he was selected for 1 Para who form the Special Forces Support Group (SFSG).

  The SFSG provides specialist infantry support to Special Forces, such as the SAS, anywhere in the world. The basic skills required to serve in 1 PARA are those that will have been gained in training and during time in 2 or 3 PARA.

  Those selected received further training on additional weapons, communications equipment and specialist assault skills.

  Vas Dembo eagle 6, was a sixth generation Namibian bushman originating from the Bushveld region along the North eastern border with Angola the Caprivi Zipvel region.

  He had come to England at the age of seventeen nine years ago, for the first few years he managed to take on labouring jobs until his British citizenship was approved. He then applied for the army where his skills with languages was quickly noted, fluent in Portuguese, Afrikaans and his native language of Oshiwambo. He quickly entered the intelligence corps.

  Strayker had met him on a few occasions relating to the Northern island conflict and had earmarked him quickly when setting up the new unit.

  Manny Gall eagle 7 stood all of five feet five inches in height he was the smallest of the OSC team, his complexion gave away his native heritage jet-black hair and very dark brown eyes he was built like a whippet, lean and sinewy.

  Manny’s skills as a tracker were infamous earning him a place on the original selection of members for training.

  Like his father before him, at the age of 6 years he had been sent back to the homelands in North Dakota from Manchester to learn the tribal skills.

  Five years ago at the age of eighteen he had returned to his home in Manchester and had immediately joined the Army.

  Dave Schofield eagle 8 aged thirty-three and had joined the Royal Air force Infantry at the age of seventeen.

  He had a fresh face boyish look with fair hair and stood at a height of five foot eight inches.

  After his initial training, at RAF Honington he joined Two-squadron RAF regiment. He moved through the rank structure to a sergeant.

  Three years ago, he was selected to join the RAF intelligence corps with the rank of a Warrant officer.

  An unusual move, however he was fluent in four languages, Russian, Arabic, Chinese and German.

  He had discovered that he had a gift to learn languages at a posting in Germany, where he picked the language up with ease.

  He then found some time to learn the other three languages.

  It was this; that had brought him to the notice of the intelligence corps.

  When Strayker and Max had looked for men to become part of the OSC, Schofield’s name would not normally have made it into the reckoning except, he was a remarkable sharpshooter and gifted in the use of any weapon you gave him coupled with his time in the intelligence corps all added to his inclusion within the OSC.

  Max addressed the group, “you will have two hours to familiarise yourself with the weapon, under the supervision of colour sergeant Johnson, he has five more AX-500’s secured in the container, any questions?”

  No one replied, Max looked at his watch that was showing, Zero ten hours and twenty-two minutes.

  Max addressed Sergeant Johnson, “Sergeant; we have the range until thirteen hundred hours, lunch is available from then and our transport lifts off at fourteen hundred.”

  Sergeant Johnson replied, “Yes sir!”

  Max turned to his men and said, “I want a complete package of firing ranges and elevations listed down in our manual for the weapon, have fun with the new rifle.”

  Each of the men gave Max a grin before he walked away towards the canteen.

  Max had asked them to fire the weapon from a variety of distances and angles in order to compile a list; this is referred to as dope the scope an acronym for Data On Personal Equipment that is entered into a book.

  This data usually comprises of the following, temperature, wind speed/direction, humidity and altitude and should similar conditions be encountered again, the data is available to assist in making an accurate shot.

  10

  MI5 Headquarters

  140 Gower Street

  London W1

  Lat = 51 degrees, 30.5 minutes North

  Long = 0 degrees, 8.7 minutes West

  Tuesday 5th September 1989 (same day).

  Fifteen twelve hours BST

  Gower Street is located within the exclusive Mayfair district of London. The street is located entirely within the W1 postcode district and is 400 yards to the North West of Green Park tube station.

  It is within the City of Westminster, running from Park Lane to Berkeley Square.

 
Military Intelligence section five HQ or more commonly known as MI5, have been based here since 1976 and previously at nearby Leconfield House, Curzon Street from 1945 to 1976 and currently they were looking for new premises to relocate too.

  Jonathan Troy was the current head of MI5, he was 48 years of age and had spent all his life in the intelligence community, a short robust figure with light brown thinning hair, and he had become head of MI5 nearly two years ago.

  Around the table with him were several analysts, whom had been piecing together the evidence from the ill-fated BA-323 flight.

  Jonathan Troy had just completed reading the report and looked up at the analysts around him.

  The operation had been headed up by Samantha Lockhart, Sam as she was known was thirty-nine, long blonde hair which she normally wore up in a bun whilst working and she stood at five foot six inches, she was divorced from an army captain six years ago, currently with no one of the opposite sex on her radar.

  Sam had spent ten years with army intelligence where she had met her husband; seven years ago, Sam left the army for a job within MI5, a year later the inevitable happened, as the couple were now hardly ever together, their marriage began to crumble and they just parted amicably.

  Jonathan Troy placed the file on the desk and spoke, “So; Sam summarise for us please?”

  “Initial thoughts were that the plane had caught fire possibly by accident, however our evidence shows this may not to be the case.

  Sam paused for a moment, took a sip of water, and continued.

  “On page three of the report is the aircraft investigation report. The flight Data recorders were located at a depth of 2,900 feet along with three wreckage sites spread over three miles, suggesting the fuselage broke up before impact. Eleven bodies were found in the water, all suffering from extreme trauma, and all showing traces of soot in their tracheae. At least four of the passengers died from smoke inhalation.”

  Sam paused again before continuing, “From the voice recordings of the crew, the investigators linked the fire to possibly one of the pallets that mostly comprised of computers in polystyrene packaging. The investigators said that the localized fire likely came in contact with the packaging and produced gases that accumulated near the ceiling. They also said that gases ignited into a flash fire that affected the entire cargo hold. Firstly they have concluded that the fire weakened the structure and the tail separated leading to impact with the ocean and secondly concluded that it was impossible to allocate blame to anyone for the fire.”

  Jonathan Troy said, “Your report includes some passengers of interest that were also on the flight Sam?”

  “Yes sir; on board the plane, evidenced by the passenger list were two CIA operatives, I have spoken with our counterparts in Washington and they say the two men were on a routine flight back to the USA.”

  Jonathan Troy interjected, “having read the report and your conclusions, it appears they may have been on the flight for other reasons Sam!”

  Sam replied, “We have possible evidence to support that theory sir. Also on board was a Russian named Ivan Balagula a Russian KGB officer from Chechnya, he had flown in from Russia the day before. We have found out from the cargo handlers at Heathrow that he had showed interest in one particular crate loaded onto the aircraft, which had been transferred from an Aeroflot flight the same one Ivan Balagula had arrived on the day before.”

  Jonathan Troy replied, “Do we know what was in that crate Sam?”

  “The American salvage team we have hired have advised it will be another three days, before they recover it and return to New York port, bad weather has hindered their efforts so far.”

  “All right; I smell something bad with this one and I want to know exactly what the contents of that crate contained. Sam as soon as you have an ETA for the salvage ship to dock, take your team to the port and examine this crate; let’s get to it!”

  11

  Central Intelligence Agency

  Langley, Fairfax County

  Virginia, USA

  Lat = 38 degrees, 57.2 minutes North

  Long = 77 degrees, 8.8 minutes West

  Wednesday 6th September 1989 (next day)

  Eleven hundred hours local time

  The CIA’s primary mission is to collect, evaluate, and disseminate foreign intelligence to assist the President and senior US Government policymakers in making decisions relating to the national security.

  The CIA does not make policy; it is an independent source of foreign intelligence information for those who do. The CIA may also engage in covert action at the President’s direction in accordance with applicable law.

  “So what have the British discovered?”

  The man asking the question was Walter Smith the Deputy Director of Central Intelligence.

  Aged fifty-eight, stocky built and five foot seven in height, with a short buzz-cut grey hair, he had served within the CIA for the past thirty-eight years and became the DDCI four years ago.

  The man being asked the question was Harrison Thomas the senior analyst for the Counterterrorism Centre, established three years earlier in 1986 under the Directorate of Operations to help combat international terrorist threats.

  Thomas replied, “they have recovered the flight Data recorders from the aircraft and have a salvage team bringing up the cargo topside, my sources say this should happen within the next couple of days.”

  “Do we know the cause of the fire on-board?”

  Thomas replied, “there appears to be no evidence to support the cause, at this moment it is a mystery, sir.”

  The DDCI said, “Any chance the cargo will have survived the crash?”

  “At the moment it is hard to say sir, but they have found some of the cargo pallets so they have something to possibly go on.”

  DDCI Smith said, “Have they anything else to go on?”

  “We had an enquiry regarding our two operatives whom were on board the flight, they were given our standard explanation, and again our sources have discovered they have made enquiries into the Russian KGB agent Ivan Balagula, whom our two operatives were following.”

  The DDCI replied, “Okay Harrison; I think you know what needs to be done, should any cargo be salvaged?”

  “Leave it with me sir.”

  12

  Strayker’s Home

  Wells road

  Bromley, Kent.

  Lat = 51 degrees, 24.3 minutes North

  Long = 0 degrees, 3.1 minutes East

  Friday 8th September 1989 (Two days later)

  Zero nine twenty hours BST

  Strayker’s home was a five bedroom, two bathroom period home set in stunning grounds of over one acre with a swimming pool and tennis court.

  Strayker had just come down the spiral staircase where his Butler Bentley was waiting with a cloths brush.

  Strayker stood as Bentley quickly and proficiently gave the Majors uniform a once over.

  Bentley had been a regular soldier in the light infantry when his path crossed with Strayker some years ago in Hong Kong.

  Strayker’s batman had just retired and he was looking for a replacement, he had been impressed with Corporal Bentley and had put in a request for the Corporal to be transferred to him.

  Bentley had been with him since, three years ago he had retired from the army, but Strayker had kept him on as his butler.

  Bentley was aged fifty-five having served thirty years in the army.

  He was a thin wiry man with a close-cropped hairstyle that was sandy in colour.

  Bentley had a healthy respect for the Major and the remarkable career path the Major had carved in the Army.

  Mick Strayker had joined the army as a boy soldier at the age of sixteen and had come through the ranks, he was now Forty-six years of age.

 
He had never married although he had, had his fair share of women.

  Strayker was a good six-foot three inches tall with wide shoulders and a close-cropped haircut, which was now showing signs of greying around the sides.

  He was the youngest Major General in the army; and was a natural soldier having seen service during the Mau-Mau uprising in 1960, the Indonesia-Malaysia confrontation in 1963, Aden 1965, several tours in Northern Ireland and the Falklands in 1982 along with postings in Gibraltar, Hong Kong, Belize and Brunei.

  He was a keen collector of antique handguns and had amassed some very rare pistols.

  When Bentley had finished he said, “Will you be back for evening meal sir?”

  Strayker replied, “what’s on the menu, Bentley?”

  “I thought some roast pork with crackling and the usual trimmings, sir.”

  “Too good an offer to refuse let’s make it for nineteen hundred hours.”

  “Certainly sir,” replied Bentley.

  Strayker walked out of the front door to the large circular driveway with a maroon coloured 24 valve 3 litre Vauxhall Senator waiting, the back door was being held open by his driver, corporal Edwards.

  Edwards had been Strayker’s driver for a few years; he was not only a highly competent driver but also had an astute instinct, he was what you would call very surveillance conscious and had been on many courses to enhance his driving skills, including counter evasive measures,

  On a number of previous occasions, this instinct had saved the day.

  Edwards said, “Good morning sir,”

  Strayker replied, “good morning corporal, first stop Downing Street then to the office.”

  Edwards closed the rear nearside door and went around to the driver’s door, a minute later the car was exiting Wells road on route to the capital, thirteen miles away.

  Strayker said, “how are the roads today corporal?”

  “It’s the first day back for the school children after the six weeks summer holidays, It will be back to the normal bedlam sir.”