Night of the Black Bastards (An Action-Packed Thriller)
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Night of the Black Bastards
By Casey Christie
COPYRIGHT
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Version 1.0
Published by Casey Christie, 2012
Copyright © Casey Christie, 2012
All rights reserved
Casey Christie has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patent Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work
This novel is a work of fiction
In some cases true life figures appear but their actions and conversations are entirely fictitious. All other characters and descriptions of events are the products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons is entirely coincidental
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser
First published in Great Britain in 2012 by
Casey Christie
About the Book
A trio of incorruptible cops--A veteran Sergeant, a former army commando, and his two cohorts, a Zulu giant and an expat Russian Spetsnaz operator--wage a ruthless war against the modern criminal gangs who ravage the city of Johannesburg with bank robberies, ritual murders, rape, torture and cash in transit hijackings. Reader discretion is advised.
This tough police action thriller lifts the lid on South African life as three hard cops launch flat-out war against a Satanic crime-czar.
Night of the Black Bastards is a vivid crime thriller set in the dangerous streets of Johannesburg and the vastness of the Karoo Desert. It has the punch of reality because this dynamic new author draws upon his own experiences..
The book provides unique insights into police procedure and the savage reality of the high energy lifestyle of the grindingly poor and the obscenely wealthy inhabitants of the multiracial metropolis of Johannesburg.
The trio's principal adversary is a Zimbabwean colonel who has established a criminal empire based in the black township of Alexandra, where he is fearfully known as uSathane--the Zulu expression for The Devil. uSathane uses black magic and cannibalism--he drinks the blood of raped women--to keep him alive although he is riddled with Aids.
About the Author
Casey Christie is an international security consultant and the founder and managing director of Concept Tactical Worldwide. He is a former reserve member of the South African Police Force where he served in crime hot spots in Johannesburg, winning numerous police awards for outstanding service. He is SWAT certified, accredited in First Aid and government licensed in the United Kingdom as a bodyguard. Casey was trained in close protection and surveillance by former members of the British Army's elite Special Air Service (SAS).
Casey has a proven track record, having provided security for Royalty, politicians, corporate executives, Hollywood and television celebrities and private individuals.
He is the author of the non-fiction self-help title, Be Your Own Bodyguard in South Africa, and regularly contributes articles on security related matters to various newspapers and magazines globally.
Casey is based in London.
Visit the Concept Tactical Worldwide website http://www.concepttactical.com
Dedicated to the men and women of the emergency services and armed forces everywhere.
For God. For Honour. For Brother. For Loyal Hound.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
CHAPTER ONE
Friday 11:02
“Any November Whisky vehicle for a 32 Alpha come in for Control.” The voice of the Controller erupted on the police vehicle’s radio.
“Yeah Control, send for November Whisky 50” replied Sergeant Night.
“Thank you November Whisky 50. We have reports of an armed robbery in progress at the Metropolitan Bank in Orange Grove on Louis Botha Avenue, are you wide or can you respond?”
“Yes we can respond Control we are about five Mikes away”.
“Ok, we have reports that 14 Bravo males, all in balaclavas and blue overalls, have just entered the bank carrying AKs and 9MMs – proceed with caution November Whisky 50” warned the radio Controller.
“Ya, thanks Control, will do” said Sergeant Night.
“Control, November Whisky 21 also en route.”
“Roger that November Whisky 21.”
“November Whisky 14 also responding.”
“Thank you November Whisky 14.”
“Control this is Yankee Nine and I am with Yankee 25, we will provide the November Whisky boys with some back up and are also en route.”
“Copy that Yankee Nine. I was wondering when you were going to join the party” said the radio Controller.
“We have just booked on duty, Control, and wouldn’t want November Whisky getting all the glory. Besides we have been posted to their sector this morning and fully expect to break first for you at Alpha Complaints Control.”
“Ha-ha, thanks Yankee Nine but I am sure the November Whisky boys will have something to say about that!” said the Controller.
“Control, November Whisky 50, permission with all responding vehicles?” asked Sergeant Night.
“Permission granted, go ahead.”
“Thank you Control. Listen up guys let’s all meet at the corner of Louis Botha and 2nd Avenue and proceed in tactical convoy to the bank from there?”
“November Whisky 21 copy that.”
“November Whisky 14 copy that.”
“Yankee Nine and Yankee 25 roger that!”
“Copy that guys – we will break in about four Mikes. Yankee Nine, I hope you ladies brought extra ammo with you today if you are posted to our area!” said Sergeant Night.
“Ya Night, we know your area is run by the Zimbabwean crime lords and you need all the help you can get, and don’t worry about us needing extra ammo, we could invade a small country with the amount of firepower we have in our vehicles today!” said Sergeant Snyman.
About three minutes later all of the responding police vehicles arrived at the designated rally point, got out of their vehicles and were being briefed by Sergeant Night.
“Ok guys I have confirmed with a source of mine inside the bank that this 32 alpha is positive and I think it’s a better idea, because of all the civilians in the bank, to let these guys finish the job inside first, exit the bank and get into their vehicles to leave and then we can blast them and their getaway cars to high hell!”
Three hours earlier:
It is 0800 and Sergeant Night and his crew Constable Stanislov and his driver Constable Shaka have just booked on duty for the day shift at their police base, Norwood Station.
Norwood Station is the local South African Police Force representation for a five square kilometre region of some of South Africa’s most dangerous neighbourhoods. It’s not that the residents of these suburbs are criminals or dangerous themselves, rather the opposite; it is because these areas are affluent and occupied by people with a lot of wealth. The problem with this is that all these prosperous residents are surrounded by some of South Africa’s poorest inhabitants who had been abused by the old Apartheid regime and now seemingly forgotten by the new government.
Mix in the fact that South Africa’s borders are porous and large amounts of African refugees have flooded into the neighbouring squatter camps – the largest being Alexandra Township – where in particular, former and rumoured current, well-armed Zimbabwean soldiers have set up a criminal empire -- robbing banks, hijacking vehicles, blowing up cash machines and committing cash-in-transit robberies. Enough mayhem to keep the police officers of Norwood Station very busy indeed.
Sergeant Michael Night, a white South African of British descent, is a good looking man of average height with striking features and raven black hair, powerful heavy set shoulders, a deep chest and formidable arms. He is known for his eyes though, striking, fearsome eyes that seem to burn straight into the soul of whoever he is talking to. His best friend and driver, Constable Daniel Shaka, is a black South African giant, standing over six foot six inches tall and weighing in at over 160 kilograms, from the African warrior tribe, the Zulus, and is simply known as “Zulu”. He is also the strongest human being Sergeant Night has ever known. It was he who gave Night a typical Zulu nickname – (izinyoka iso) snake eyes.
Constable Nickolai Stanislov is a powerful man with dark features and an endomorphic body type and a large bald head. A former Russian Spetznaz operator, he immigrated to South Africa ten years earlier and is one of the most respected combat shooters in the country. Together they make up the three man crew notorious throughout Norwood as the Black Bastards.
Constable Stanislov always thought this nickname was strange as Zulu was the only black man in their crew. But they got their nickname from the combat gear they wore, not their skin colour.
Sergeant Night is personal drinking buddies with General Amos Arosi. And General Arosi happens to be the South African Police Force’s Provincial Commander for Gauteng and Johannesburg. About three years previously General Arosi gave special permission to Sergeant Night and his crew to wear all black combat gear and uniform, unlike the majority of the South African Police Force who wear blue uniforms and combats. Permission that Sergeant Night won over a bet to see who could drink the most shots of tequila in an evening, or something. Night couldn’t quite remember.
Earning the nickname of the Black Bastards followed after only a couple of shifts on duty in their all black uniform and gear. Three hardened South African cops, all with level three body armour casing Kevlar vests, trauma packs and ceramic plating. Each with a 9MM pistol strapped to the webbing on his chest with five extra magazines of ammunition, Sergeant Night with a 12 gauge pump action shotgun, Constable Stanislov with a 7.62 R1 assault rifle and Constable Shaka with his weapon of choice for close work --a massive killing knife he straps down his right leg that he refers to as his assegai (the Zulus’ traditional iron-tipped spear, known in modern South African political-speak as a “cultural weapon.”) The trio wore Black Berets proudly displaying the SAPF blue and yellow badge.
Constables Shaka and Stanislov would stand like mountains on either side of their leader who commanded definitive respect and interrogated criminal suspects with an almost priest like manner, apparently knowing instantly if someone was good or evil, telling the truth or lying.
What also helped distinguish the Black Bastards was the extreme violence they meted out to known criminals when confronted with violence themselves. And the criminals simply had to put a name to the only three cops in all of Norwood that they knew didn’t take Cho-Cho, the South African slang word for bribes.
The Black Bastards were born combatants and never questioned the reason for their existence on God’s great earth. Their collective purpose in life was to take down South Africa’s most violent criminals by whatever means necessary. Constable Shaka believed in the rule of an iron fist, a tenet of faith quite commonly held in Africa. Constable Stanislov believed in the letter of the law and Sergeant Night believed in a healthy balance of both. Sergeant Night was their commander and leader, Constable Shaka was the muscle and linguist and Constable Stanislov was the law and weapons expert. Together they made a formidable team and were known throughout Norwood as lawmen of old in a new corrupt age.
11:05
As the various police officers were about to get back into their vehicles to head off to the bank their police radios collectively came alive once more.
“Control this is Metro Ten. We have been monitoring your radio traffic and heard the 32 Alpha call. We are about to break at the Metropolitan Bank.”
“That’s a negative Metro Ten!” said Control forcefully. “My SAPF vehicles are responding to that call headed by one of the Norwood Sergeants. You do not have clearance to break at that scene. More importantly you do not have the sufficient firepower, backup or experience to respond to this call! STAND DOWN Metro Ten!”
“Sorry Control we are here now, it’s too late…” And with that the Metro officer ended the radio transmission.
At that moment Constable Shaka looked at Sergeant Night as though he had just seen a ghost and said: “That’s my little brother in that vehicle Mike, I know because it’s his first shift as driver and he brought Metro Ten home with him last night.”
In South Africa there is the South African Police Force that has complete and full jurisdiction and police officers and stations throughout the country and local smaller Metropolitan Police Forces that enforce municipal by-laws in all the major cities. However because of the escalating levels of violent crime -- 50 murders a day and 50 armed robberies a day -- Metro units throughout the country were starting to try and tackle the more dangerous common law crimes. This was a worrying trend as these Metro officers, albeit well intentioned, were not experienced enough or tactically trained to deal with South Africa’s hardest armed criminals, most of whom themselves had military backgrounds and were veterans in the use of AK 47s. In both forces the officers on duty would take on the call sign of whatever law enforcement vehicle they were working in for that shift. All police vehicles have their own call sign.
“All right guys let’s mount up and double time it, that’s Zulu’s brother in Metro Ten! Let’s move” said Sergeant Night, his voice harsh with urgency.
Many times in the past had November Whisky 50 responded to armed robberies in progress and faced the enemy in battle. Whether the robbers got away, were caught or killed, the Black Bastards had done it all before. This time however Sergeant Night felt that something was different. He intuited there was a special resonance in this call. At some deep level of his spirit he sensed that this call was ushering in a new age for him. A wholly new experience.
“Zulu, do you feel it?” asked Sergeant Night.
“Yes my brother, I feel it. Look at the sky, the clouds, the wind, the rain.”
Looking out the window Sergeant Night noticed a storm was brewing and saw tree branches of lightning forming in the di
stance.
“Are you ready?” asked Constable Shaka.
“Yeah I’m ready. What about the old Russian bear in the back, Stani, are you ready?” grinned Sergeant Night while looking at Constable Stanislov, sitting in the back seat of their response vehicle with his 7.62 calibre R1 assault rifle affectionately in hand.
“I came out of my mother’s womb ready for moments like this, Mike” said Stanislov coolly.
At that moment the convoy of police vehicles arrived at the main entrance to the large parking lot of the new Metropolitan Bank on Louis Botha Avenue. Normally the vehicles would be parked a block away and the men would tactically move in on foot to the Alpha Call location. However because of Constable Shaka’s younger brother’s unwanted involvement in this call they had to break best tactical practice and go straight in. They found the Metro Ten vehicle parked right outside the front door of the bank on the other side of the parking lot with blue lights still flashing and driver and passenger doors wide open - Rookie mistakes.
The huge modern building contained many offices and up-market shops. Night knew that right now in the stark modern architecture of the bank scores of civilians were on the floor. The South African public knew the drill when robbers raised their AK47s in the air and they hit the deck hard, some cowering there in terror, others fuming with anger, weeping, hyperventilating, thinking “For God’s sake, not again!”
As Night sat in the passenger seat of NW50, flushed with adrenalin, a recent conversation flashed like a ticker-tape across his mind. It was Suzanne, a visiting Aunt from the UK talking. She was telling him she went to her favourite shopping mall in the upmarket leafy suburb of Bedforview, Johannesburg and parked on the first floor area. As she got out of the car and headed to an entrance a guard lifted his hand to her and said: