Bearings: The Compass Trilogy Part One

by Mr Iain F Johnston

  I let out a sigh of exasperation,

  “How the frigging hell did he manage to do that…!” “I have no idea…”

  The rather weary Inspector responded and then continued…

  “Two pursuit vehicles are behind him with another less than ten minutes out. X-Ray 55 has now moved up from Northants and has relayed an ETA of three minutes… I’ve also tasked Oscar Hotel 88, the North Midland Air Unit, south too but they’re way off…”

  “OK… I’m a little concerned; we don’t want to start relocating assets from the search for Harraghy and McCauley…”

  “I appreciate that but we need to stop this guy. If air assets expedite the process, I’m all for it. I also think that Harraghy won’t make a move until dark, he’ll be aware of the search by now and no doubt, the demise of Crown…”

  I had to agree, if one aspect of this operation had been consistent, it’d been their ability to communicate…

  “True… I think it’s realistic of us to assume the unknown in the target vehicle has been in contact with Harraghy, if not McCauley too…”

  “Yes… That’s our take on it too…” “Righto Steve…”

  “I’ll keep you informed Chief…”

  This was frustrating. Here in Compass again all we could do was wait…

  *****

  Inspector Norris was listening intently. Officer Warwick had assumed the responsibility of Pursuit Commander as this had immediately jumped to the tactical phase. Resolution tactic decisions would now be made in realtime, their opportunity to form a rolling road block was now gone. The two chasing liveried police vehicles would give support only and act on Warwick’s say so. Norris was concerned. Firstly, the target had now fled, this changed the operational focus dramatically and secondly, SOP called for a liveried pursuit vehicle to be Commander. The problem they all faced with this…? There was not enough road space for them to change places; Mike Papa 23 was unable to fall back.

  O’Brien was accelerating. He was now upto speeds of 90-95mph. This along a motorway hardshoulder was extremely difficult for advanced drivers, far less a young panicky man…

  Officer Lewis was giving a constant commentary, watching the vehicle ahead, he was increasingly aware that the driver was becoming erratic.

  “Frank I think we should back off a little… The roadworks are building up again and any wrong move from him and he’s a goner. I don’t relish the thought of going with him…”

  “I’m not losing this murderous little fucker Paul, no way…”

  O’Brien was hoping for an exit that simply wasn’t there. It would be another two miles before junction 9 would appear, another two miles of heavily congested traffic leaving the emergency lane as his only escape route…

  The carriageways had at one point separated, this was to accommodate the new section under construction and they were now closing in again. As he glanced back to see the now brightly lit Ford Cosworth, the right hand curve became tighter, he could never have known an overheating Vauxhall Astravan was soon to be in his direct path. As he turned into the bend, the speedometer needle was beginning to nudge three figures…

  Officer Lewis tried again…

  “Frank he’s got nowhere to go, ease off a little… This is becoming unsafe…”

  Warwick could sense the tension from his colleague. Maybe he was right…? Dropping back thirty yards or so would make no real difference, the Sierra couldn’t sprout wings and fly off neither would there be an opportunity to initiate a PIT manoeuvre, a bump and run, which would push the fleeing car sideways… He eased off noticeably; his colleague relayed the fact over the RT for the official log.

  Rounding the bend, O’Brien saw the stationary vehicle; well it’s flashing hazard lights at any rate. His mind froze, using up precious reaction time.

  He slammed his right foot down hard on the centre pedal subconsciously pushing himself back into the car seat rather than allowing physics to move him forward. Unlike other modern cars of the time, the Ford Sierra was rear-wheel drive and also lacked the anti-lock brake assistance new technology was affording. He began to snake, the rear stepping out; his oversteering just compounded the problem. He also had to ease off the brake to stop the front wheels from locking up. Human nature dictated that he slammed on the brakes once more, causing the car to skid… His last desperate act was to slew the car to the left… The last conscious vision Francis O’Brien registered was the rear of the stricken van…

  The impact was as explosive as it was devastating. The already out- of-action van was pushed along the lane as the rear was obliterated. The Saloon lifted sideways, continuing on its destructive unstoppable path over the top of the Vauxhall, burying its offside wing into the tarmac. The car began to cartwheel, over and over in an incessant, violent display of flying glass, steel and flesh… Finally coming to rest, it was now a car in name only, what remained was a tangled unrecognisable steaming mass of bloodstained metal lying forlornly on the grass bank against a tree trunk to the left of the carriageway.

  The three police pursuit vehicles had stopped safely. Lewis was requesting assistance and response from other emergency services while Officer Reade, driver of Mike Papa 16, was consoling the shocked van driver sitting on the kerbside.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Inevitably it was Steve Case who informed Compass. We’d all congregated in my office as we had thought the news of the apprehension of an unknown might have given us fresh insight, at the very least a timetable for the remaining two terrorists. The atmosphere was now low key at best.

  All the positive results we had accomplished over the past ten days would be forgotten if arguably the biggest device of all was detonated. Many had thought there would now be a respite, a precious interlude allowing all the services to regroup but not a bit of it.

  Our conversation with Sergeant Mortimer had reflected what many were experiencing. The once ever positive EOD officer now sounded a little downbeat and weary, fatigue had definitely set in. Our ever ready and motivated team who had joined our fight without the need to ask, were beginning to creak… For these men it was their biggest enemy, fatigue meant mistakes and mistakes meant the ultimate price would be paid. I had to swing those odds…

  “Abby could you get me Frank Whatley please…?”

  A minute later my phone buzzed, “Frank…? I need something…” “I’m listening Chief…”

  “13’s bomb disposal teams have taken a bit of a back seat so far, I want to get them involved more…”

  “As I said, I’m listening…”, A rather suspicious SO13 Inspector answered…

  “I want two teams moved up from the Capital to cover Catthorpe in case EOD are a little late…”

  “EOD won’t be late… Ah I see… Yes I see your point, they have been stretched and a few hours down-time will do them the world of good. I’ll get on it now Chief and relay the news to Sergeant Mortimer. Do we have a timetable yet…?”

  “Nothing specific… We’ve spoken to Steve; his experience tells him they won’t move until nightfall at the earliest. They probably want the device in place for rush hour tomorrow. We agree with that illustration…”

  “It does make sense, it’s what I would do…”

  “Quite…”

  “Right… I’ll have the teams moving. We are beginning to cut down our manpower here. I’m beginning to move personnel into the target area. Three routes Chief, you never know we may get lucky and clock them on the move…”

  “Understood… Carry on Frank…”

  Back on the floor I relayed SO13’s movements to the group, marking the three routes their teams would be taking on the large map now fixed to the wall.

  I could see my secretary trying to catch my attention… “What’s up Abby…?”

  “I have a caller on line 4 for you… He wouldn’t give his name but he dialled direct. After the call Charlie received I thought I shouldn’t dismiss it, Iain I think he’s Russian…?”

  “Any ideas…?”

&nb
sp; “Off the top of my head…? I’d say Sergei Kutsarov., I met him a couple of times when I was at the Foreign office. Both Envoys crossed swords on more than one occasion…”

  That brought me to an abrupt halt… What did a Russian Middle East Envoy want with me…? What did a Russian Middle East Envoy think he could possibly do for me which would aid himself was more to the point.

  I crossed the office floor then closed my office door quietly.

  “Ok Abby put him through please…”

  “We must meet… Today…” “Really, where…?” “Nowhere…”

  Christ, I thought, here we go…. “Mr Ku’…”

  “No names…! I assure you this is not a riddle… I have been instructed to offer a chance to discuss matters of mutual interest but our window is very small. You are aware of our movements so you are aware of when I leave…”

  “I am… Today then…”

  “Very well… There is a basement entrance to your building which leads to the boilerhouse and the boilerman’s office… I will enter there…”

  It never changed; Kutsarov had to let me know he knew our building layout…

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes…”

  “Good, as you say fifteen minutes. Choose who you tell wisely, Vanya Stenliovich… I would suggest Charl’z and Kristofer only, before you take it to Robin…”

  Again the use of insider knowledge was to let me know he’d done his homework, the call was over. I walked from my office, passing Abby en route to Chris…

  “Don’t look so puzzled Ab’… Say nothing yet, I have a feeling this is serious…”

  Entering Chris’s office, I closed the blinds as well as the door, “You do that a lot lately…”

  “Chris, Sergei Kutsarov will be in the basement in fifteen minutes… Tell me why he wants you and Charlie down there with me…?”

  “Easy… Because he has, shall we say, assisted previously. The three of us have been low key conduits for our governments on two other occasions. It worked well and I’ll also add that he has never contacted us unless it’s been important…”

  “Ok, good enough for me… Let’s get Charlie and head down there…”

  A basement meeting was straight out of a Le Carre novel, dusty, noisy and steamy… The boilerman’s office would be perfect; we arranged three chairs around the desk and closed the blind fully on the glass door and small window. The black wrought iron gate leading from the alleyway and down the steep stone steps had been unlocked and left ajar, as had the fire escape…

  Kutsarov arrived briskly and headed directly to the office. He’d clearly done this before…

  There was no verbal tennis. He got straight to the point…

  “We have information in regard to the campaign currently underway in the United Kingdom…”

  “We’re listening Sergei…”

  The two short, sharp noises as he released the spring-loaded catches to his briefcase echoed off the walls. My hand unconsciously slid around my Sig Sauer, Charlie and Chris had evidently done the same… Kutsarov looked at us with amusement,

  “Ah, I can see you are under a lot of pressure…!”

  He brought out three brown, dog-eared files and two miniature cassette tapes and placed them thoughtfully on the teak coloured battered table before him… He then sat and adjusted himself for comfort, his body language suggested that he was armed but also that he was well at ease. Charlie and I joined him while Chris prowled…

  “As you know, in July of last year our country improved his eavesdropping ability extensively in the Black Sea area… A facility with a similar capability to your east coast establishment. Again, as you know historically we have always been a little concerned with regard to the military manoeuvrings of China, this was set up first and foremost for that purpose but also gave us the ability to be very capable in the Middle East. The chatter has been interesting to say the least…”

  He poured tea before continuing,

  “We firmly believe there is a concerted effort to destabilise the west using suicide bombing, strategically placed IEDs and more sophisticated ordnance also… Many of our disgruntled and, if I may say, disillusioned former comrades have been able to offer their services to political movements based in the Middle East region… Most of these individuals have a specific skill set, offering unique services which have never been available before. This is coupled with the extensive theft of armaments and the software which controls them…”

  “You have our full undivided attention Sergei…”

  He gave a satisfied nod,

  “You are aware that since the failure of our previous political outlook many of our stockpiles have been looted and relocated in more isolated regions ready to be sold on to the highest bidder regardless of their intended use. There are however only a few activists with the financial ability to take any advantage of this. As you, we monitor these individuals closely…”

  He stirred then drank some of his tea… I gestured with my hands for him to continue…

  “The other major issue is the oil. Regardless of what is said, written or even believed, it is the world’s biggest source of income. A country’s economy can just as easily rise to the heavens as sink into the sands because of its value. You know, of course, that many questionable countries are allowed a place at the top table due to their deposits. A blind eye is cast over their treatment of their countrymen; such is the world’s need of their liquid gold. We feel it won’t be too long before certain questionable African nations are offered a seat due to their vast mineral wealth also…

  Russia is now rapidly approaching a time when he too can offer the world the economic advantages of our vast oil fields and mineral wealth. We have been working in harmony with many of the UKs top engineers and those of the USA; it is of a mutual interest to exploit what we have…”

  “It’s very nice Sergei that your country’s economic fortunes are turning a corner, however how does this affect us…?”

  “We believe this is making many of the smaller, less powerful countries edgy. We sense a threatening mood toward the inevitable larger seat we will have at the top table. Believe me from a political viewpoint, their language is of the strongest tone…

  There is however one which has no affiliation to any nation, one which we believe has risen from the ashes of the Yemen and one which as a whole, we cannot pinpoint. We have no knowledge of their motivation or of their goals. Their capital is fluid and far- reaching.We believe they act as a broker of sorts to the smaller nations bringing them together to act as one…

  “Do you have anything of substance on them, anything at all…?”

  “Through eavesdropping we know this group is responsible for the attacks on your country. Many calls have been placed to high ranking former PIRA leaders. As we used to as a socialist republic, they have chosen carefully, focussing on the hardliners as you would call them. Those with the motivation to stop at nothing to bring chaos to your shores…”

  He placed his left hand on one of the thick files held together with red elastic bands,

  “As you will appreciate we have files on these activists. I’m sure ours will offer a differing insight, those not of an enemy you understand…? We also have copies of the communications plus further observations regarding certain German activists who were at one point in time politically aligned…”

  The offer was massive in terms of intelligence. The offer also told us that they, Russia, were as worried as us, the UK…

  “What do you want in return Sergei…?”

  “A reciprocal arrangement. I know this is not an answer to be given now, you must first digest what I have brought but I am confident that when you do, you will appreciate the depth of what we offer today. And what we can continue to offer through the usual back channels. If you eavesdrop or uncover anything which could be economically detrimental to the already fragile state of Russia, we would wish to know. I will be honest; we are desperate for a top table seat… I am sure a mutual unders
tanding would be beneficial to all parties both strategically and economically…”

  “Ok, politics aside, what’s your feel of it…?”

  He finished his tea, wiping his mouth on a handkerchief he removed from an inside pocket…

  “Nergal… We keep hearing the word Nergal… The name is for a Middle Eastern god of the underworld. As I said, we feel he is a broker, an individual with the wealth and resources to represent a group of the regions smaller mineral producers who are feeling undermined by our new worldly outlook…”

  He closed his briefcase, getting to his feet,

  “Vanya, I must leave now, please read all of this… Your two comrades will vouch for me…”

  “One last question… Why haven’t you approached the Germans with your INTEL on their subjects…?”

  “You have a new growing relationship with them. Your covert operations in the region are assisted by them, are they not…? We felt it would be politically stronger if this information came from you, a gesture of Goodwill…?”