by John Kerr
A couple of kilometres from the rail track he set up some targets on the trees and re-loaded all his weapons. He waited… It wasn’t long before he heard an approaching train. The noise would mask any sound that Jake made. The MP5 was set to automatic for the one and only time. It was loaded with a full magazine and, as the carriages went past, he fired. The weapon burst into life and emptied itself into the nearest target; the sound was music to Jake’s ears. Within four seconds the gun was dangling on his arm by the short sling attached to his wrist and he had the Browning pistol in his hand. He fired at the other targets: target 1, one, two, three;… target 2, one, two, three;… target 3, one, two, three;… target 4, magazine off, magazine on, one, two, three;… target 5, one, two, three;… target 6, one, two, three;… target 7, one, two, three. Jake dropped to one knee… Fuck, it suddenly felt like he had never been away. He checked all the targets and counted the holes. He never let any go. Good shooting, boy! Jake congratulated himself. The MP5 was reloaded and this time it was set to single-shot, which was the way he always fired. The first burst was just to let him feel the weapon going off in his hands, and Christ, it felt good, but this time he would fire as he would in a hot situation. One, two, three – one; one, two, three - two; one, two, three – three; one, two, three – four. Jake spoke the target numbers out loud, as always. It was an idiosyncrasy of his. Whenever he knew he had four targets on a delivery, he would never leave a building until he had said the word ‘four’ out loud. That and the fact that counting meant he would never be out of rounds and hear a dead man’s ‘click’, and possibly end up with an armed target standing in front of him with a weapon pointed at his head. It was the way he always worked, and even now it was automatic. He did it every time without thinking and it had in the past saved his life.
The gear was once again stowed away and he bugged out of the area, travelling through the woods and up onto the crest of the hills that ran along side the forestry commission land. This ground was private and out of bounds to all, even Jake, but they would have to catch him first. He stayed on the hillside for an hour, then down into Glendale Valley and cover from any prying eyes that may have been in the area. Jake’s target was four hours away and he wanted to be there before 10 p.m., as he would have to recce the area and fix his attack plan firmly in his head. He pushed on. The clouds above were grey, and in the light it looked like there could be snow about. Shit, that was all he needed. It would slow him down considerably, so he upped his pace just in case. The going was easy enough though. It was rolling countryside - underfoot was quite firm and tonight he would be contouring the hills rather than going over them. It was always the easiest way to save energy; he may need it.
Coming round Jacob’s Cob, Jake could see the lights of Stamdock village. Just before the village there was the row of converted holiday homes that were let to people taking a break from the city rat race. In the summer months they were full most weeks, but tonight they would be deserted. Ideal for a group of people wanting to hide, plan and execute a bombing raid on London. Tonight though was going to be different. There was a need to stop these people… And death was on its way. Jake was going to end it quickly and be back into the night as the last body hit the floor. He was completely focused; he was tuned into what he was about to do. His equipment had been checked; test-fired, loaded and ready…
THIRTY-SIX
The snow that had threatened earlier had not materialised and Jake turned north, which would let him approach the house from above. It added about two kilometres onto his journey but it would be worth it and it would keep him away from the road. Jake could see the houses between himself and the long twisting road. He made his way up to the top of the hill behind the row of trees that gave him more than enough cover. His silhouette was hidden as the moon lit up the whole area. One hour and he would be in position… Jake’s nerves began to twitch… Was this because it was his first job in years or had it had anything to do with her?
‘Okay, Jake, let’s put everything else out of your head and switch on, son!’ he ordered. He fell on one knee, removed his pack, and soon his hands were full of weapons. In an instant both were quickly and quietly loaded and made ready. He didn’t apply the safety catch on his weapons - he never did; if Jake had a weapon in his hands then he was in killing mode and it was killing time, so there was never any need for a safety catch. Jake checked all around with the night sight and moved out; he was 500 metres above his target and was walking parallel to the road which was empty. He had not seen any vehicles, which was a bonus. He glanced left and right, listening for any noise, but all was quiet and still. The clouds had closed in overhead and the moon had gone. It was nice and dark, just the way he liked it.
Jake turned and started down the hill, his feet pushing forward into the toe of his boots which made him scrunch them up - it always did. The target house came into view. Jake stopped instantly and automatically went down again onto one knee. Adrenaline started to flow through his body and his pulse quickened. All was quiet. There was a small stone wall running left to right at the rear of the house and it gave excellent cover. One, two, three, four, five paces: he went down. The break in the stonework let him survey his target. It was a recently renovated house, standard, with two back windows either side of the door. There had sometime in the past been a loft conversion done, and the roof had dormer windows each side of the original skylight. Jake’s eyes fixed on the roof windows…The way in, he thought.
After removing his pack and stowing it in the nearest bush, he very slowly made his way down the side of the trees and turned sharp left. He found himself at the back corner of the house. Jake felt his breathing become very shallow as he crept along to the first window. The main room light was off but the small lamp sitting on top of the T.V. gave off more than enough light. The room contained two targets, both sitting on the small sofa, engrossed in the programme. All that he could see from his position was the backs of their heads. From the position they were in it was obvious that the one on the left had fallen asleep. His head was cocked to the side and had fallen slightly forward. Target two was sitting flicking through the T.V. channels, very much awake. But where was number three? The door out into the hall was ajar, and Jake could just make out the stairs leading up to the bedrooms. There were no more lights on in the house so it was fair to assume that number three was asleep, and if he were he would most probably be upstairs. That simple fact now made him target number one.
Jake removed two small charges from his right-hand pocket and placed the first against the window. It was the smaller of the two and was designed only as a diversion. It wouldn’t do any damage to the occupants of the room, but it would scare the shit out of them and buy him a little precious time. He moved along to the door and fixed charge number two against the lock. This was slightly bigger; it would blow the door open but wouldn’t remove it from its hinges, which was exactly what he wanted. He moved along the house to the corner and immediately saw the wall at the bottom of the garden. The wall itself was high enough to be his ladder; it ran all the way up to the front of the house and joined onto the front corner, Yes, he thought, my way onto the roof. In an instant his attack plan was clear in his head and he sprinted forward. The wall was only eight paces away so he was there in the blink of an eye. One, two, he launched himself at the wall… up… on top of the wall. He turned sharp left. A T.V. satellite pole made an excellent handgrip; he quickly grabbed at it and pulled himself onto the roof. Jake was at the front of the building. He turned left again, one, two, three, four paces and he was at the back of the house. To his right-hand side sat both dormer windows. He took another four paces and gently pulled at the first… shit, it was locked. He moved up and over the top making sure he cast no shadows inside the room. He moved along the roof in a crouched position, staying down below the roof apex. The second window was open slightly. He gave it a quick tug and it opened without a sound. Very quickly and silently, he dropped his head, shoulders and weapon inside; a sweep of t
he room told him it was empty and he effortlessly dropped inside. Without stopping he headed for the door, one, two, three, four paces, he was there. The door was open slightly. Jake stopped and listened…He could feel his heart racing and the adrenaline pumped through his entire body. He was 100% switched on and completely focused.
The sound coming from the T.V. downstairs was all he could hear and he knew he had the advantage of absolute surprise… it was fucking perfect. Jake tugged opened the door quickly; that way it wouldn’t creak. He stepped out into the hall and glanced left and right… Nothing. He quietly stepped across and placed his hand on the door handle. Pressing his ear hard against the wood he listened, knowing that within the next few moments, for the people inside this house, all hell was about to break loose. They were all going to die very, very quickly. Jake inhaled a large deep breath, pushed the handle down and stepped inside. Target one was standing at the dormer window with his back towards him; his body was in the process of turning and it was the last voluntary movement the man would ever make. As Jake pulled the trigger he simultaneously slammed his left hand on the stock of the MP5. The button on his explosive detonator was taped to the palm of his hand; charge number one on the downstairs window exploded. Tap, tap, tap. As the third bullet entered his body Jake, almost under his breath mouthed the word... “One”. The target fell to the floor lifeless and instantly Jake had turned and was back out in the corridor. He turned right and three metres in front of him he could see the stairs leading down. In the blink of an eye he was there. Jake stood there briefly and crouched down. The door to the room below that held two more targets was still ajar. Suddenly it flew open. Jake squeezed his left hand against his weapon and the front door exploded open. The two targets rushed into the corridor; one was carrying an Israeli Desert Eagle pistol and the other a Kalashnikov AK47. Both weapons were being fired at nothing. Jake stepped boldly into the light and pulled his weapon into his shoulder. Target two suddenly saw him and let out a fearful scream as he desperately tried to swing the 0.44 magnum calibre pistol to his right. He realised his life was about to end and it showed in his face…Tap, tap, tap. ‘Two,’ Jake said, as he swung his weapon a touch to his right he watched as target three stumbled straight into his line of fire. Jake gently squeezed the trigger three times and the MP5 growled at him, Tap, tap, tap. ‘Three.’ Both bodies crumpled onto the hall floor as the smell of cordite immediately filled the house. Automatically and methodically Jake checked the rest of the small house for any others… All was clear…It was over. He quickly left the house of death.
Outside in the clean air Jake took in as much of the life-giving oxygen as he could force into his lungs. He jumped over the small wall and almost landed directly on top of his pack. Without stopping he grabbed hold of the straps, threw it over his shoulders and gave it a quick yank. He felt the Bergen jump high up onto his back and settle. Jake’s MP5 dropped towards the ground and swung on the short sling strap. As the weapon came back up he grabbed at it and stepped away from the wall into the darkness.
After only four paces he pulled out the small pack of mini flares from his breast pocket, removed the firing mechanism and fixed a green flare. He spun round, facing the small house again but moving backwards, and in a single movement he extended his arm and fired the flare high up into the night sky. As it reached the top of its arc it was directly over the house, and as soon as he saw the flare begin to drop he turned and moved, knowing that every step took him further away from the road. Jake knew the clear-up team were somewhere nearby and would now be getting their shit together, making their way to the house to put it back together and clear it all away.
Jake kept moving and, without thinking, turned his head, listening for any noise emanating from behind him. He heard nothing… just the sound of his own boots as they carried him higher and higher up towards the summit. Within 30 seconds he could feel the comfort of the night flood over him. He increased his pace to almost breakneck speed; he had to leave the area very quickly and without any noise. Jake’s watch said 12.30 as he leaned into the steepening hill.
The next two hours passed very quickly and Jake went over in his head the night’s events. It had been clean, it had been quick and it had been very, very decisive. The two in the lounge downstairs had panicked; there was no other word for it… They had given up their lives without a struggle, without a whimper, and they had all died easily. He knew had done a good job - there had been no hiccups, no balls-ups, just a job well done. And now, on to the next…
THIRTY-SEVEN
Briar’s Hill was two full days away and it was fast approaching Jake’s bedtime. He had put enough distance between himself and his first delivery to slow down to an ordinary pace. He would find a suitable place and get his head down… Jake was fucking knackered.
Sleep came quickly and it gave much needed rest. He slept soundly, woke at dawn and watched some rabbits down by the small stream, doing what they do. They were completely oblivious to Jake lying motionless only a couple of metres above them. He lay there thinking of nothing, only wondering what the next few days would bring. By the time he had washed, shaved and had breakfast, the clouds had opened up and they were giving up their contents freely. Jake was just about to move when he heard the first clap of thunder; it was far in the distance but it was unmistakable. He made his way steadily to the top of the large hill to the south and as he came over the rise he couldn’t fail to see the very dark black sky directly in front of him. ‘You’re going to get a little bit wet, sonny boy,’ he said in the direction of the ever-blackening sky. Christ, it looked blacker than hell itself. Jake didn’t hesitate. The quicker you’re into it, the sooner it’s over. He tried to reassure himself as he dropped over the top and made himself ready for the storm that was fast approaching. Strangely, it held no fear for him and like the good professional he was he would take it in his stride…ignore it as best he could and just tab straight through it. Always with the thought in his head that the sun was most definitely shining on the other side. Let’s just go for it, mate, and remember, the skin is waterproof.
An hour later he was indeed in the middle of hell, and this hell was throwing hailstones that felt more like ice blocks, most of them hitting him bloody hard. He had his head buried in his chest and, with his weapons concealed; he was just another walker - maybe a crazy walker to be out in this weather, but a walker nonetheless. He pushed on through it. The changes that often happened when he was out in the hills never ceased to amaze him. Here he was walking in the most awful weather, knowing that within a couple of hours the clouds could clear and he could possibly even see some sunlight - you just never knew your luck. It kept on raining all through the day and continued to hammer down even when he lay in his sleeping bag deep inside an area of fir trees. Jake didn’t know when the rain stopped, he just knew it was off when he leapt straight out of his bag and pushed his arms directly out in front of him in a desperate attempt to stop the morning locomotive that was about to crush her. Fuck! Beads of sweat ran down his forehead. This was beginning to seriously worry him. One thing that he knew for sure was that he had never in his life had nightmares, let alone a recurring one, and this one made no sense to him. How could he possibly try and stop a train from hitting her?… Just blow the fucker straight off the tracks? He tried to put it out of his mind. This was made just a little easier by the job in hand.
The day was uneventful and he made better than average distance. There was a large range of hills that he couldn’t go round, so it was a simple case of up-and-over. It was a good steady climb, and by the time he had reached the summit he was completely dry and feeling good. At the top he made a hot cup of tea and some food. Then just as he was about to go over the top, he turned and saw in the distance a train slowly gliding along on a far-off track. Jake had never been one for involuntary outbursts of speech, so it came as a complete surprise to him to hear himself say quietly, ‘I hate fucking trains.’
The afternoon wore on and he stretched his legs
a little further and a little faster. There was another twenty-two kilometres to go till the farmhouse, and as he still had enough ammunition and other gear for this job, he would stay out till it was complete. There was no need to stop off anywhere else. He was self-sufficient. One hour after dark, he checked and loaded his weapons. He also had with him a couple of L2 grenades, which were primed and stashed in the small side-pouch of his belt kit.
Adrenaline and Jake were old and trusted friends, and when they got together it gave him an easy feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was 11.15, and his satellite navigation system told him the farmhouse was four kilometres directly over the top of Brier’s Hill, which was now ahead of him. Forty-five minutes later he lay in the prone position looking through his binoculars, with the farmhouse in the darkness only a kilometre or so below. Jake crawled forward before standing up; there was no way he would give himself away by showing his silhouette on top of the hill. He moved off the summit and made his way down towards his target.
The darkness gave all the cover he needed; although the cloud overhead wasn’t the heaviest, the ambient light was almost non-existent. He started to move downhill. The farmhouse was now only five hundred metres directly ahead. There was nothing between him and his target except rough grassland and a few innocuous-looking trees. The farm had been neglected and was in a pretty run down and somewhat pitiful state. There was an old barn fifty metres to the right, and as he moved closer to the main building he could just make out shadows moving behind the closed heavy curtains. There were at least two targets in the left-hand room. Jake dropped off his pack then raised his MP5 into the firing position, placing the butt in his shoulder. The weapon wasn’t fitted with any special sights, as he had always used it as a close assassination weapon. This meant he was almost always in the same room as his targets, so his weapon was always stripped to the bare minimum, making it lighter. He moved round to the side of the barn; he could see the front doors had long since fallen off or had been removed. He listened hard, heard nothing, and stepped inside. Jake quickly glanced left and right, and took five paces to the right-hand wall. With his face pressed against the broken window, the farmhouse came into view - all was quiet and peaceful. Jake paused and let the scene sink into his mind. After only a few seconds he turned and studied the contents of the old barn. It was almost empty except for a dozen or so bales of hay. He stretched his hand out and felt the tinder-dry straw…That would help. He moved back to the window and listened. Jake glanced back into the barn and then back to the house as the plan of attack began to form slowly inside his head. He left his hiding place and slowly and very cautiously made his way towards the building that held his targets. Jake’s heart rate increased and he breathed a little faster. He crept round to the back of the house and stopped at the first window. The room was in complete darkness. He tried the window. Locked. Shit. He moved on. At window number two there was a dim light coming from inside, but the curtains were made from heavy material and were overlapping. There was no chance of seeing anything through them, but they couldn’t mask the sound of voices from inside. Jake listened hard and could just make out three different people talking in what seemed like an Arabic dialect. It didn’t matter… Soon they wouldn’t be saying anything. Jake had only counted three. Shit, where the fuck was number four? He listened for a few seconds more to the conversation from within and then crept around to the front of the house. The windows had been boarded up and the front door was locked. At the far side of the house he could just make out the front edge of the barn. Good one, he thought, and without any more hesitation he headed straight back to the barn and stepped inside. Once there, he removed some rolled-up fuse wire from his pouch, cut about twenty centimetres, cleared a small area of hay from the floor and placed the fuse wire in the centre. He made sure the last couple of centimetres were touching the very dry straw; he checked his watch and worked out the timings in his head. Should be about right, he thought, as he lit his lighter. The darkness momentarily disappeared. Jake quickly took the opportunity to check that his weapon was set to single-shot. He could feel it with his thumb, but always liked to see it with his own eyes. This wasn’t always possible but tonight it was. He looked back to the very small light from his lighter, took a deep breath and lit the fuse. One and a half seconds later it burst into life and he was off…