by P. S. Bridge
He knew something was coming, a lifetime of military exercises with Special Forces had provided him with instinct and reasoning. He knew the storm prevented anyone who would attack them from doing so. Now that the storm was over, they would attack before another storm front moved in.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Agent Williams sat staring at the vast array of computer monitors while blowing hard on his coffee as he pondered the patterns he was seeing. Someone kills a bunch of terrorists in a London container terminal and then the same thing happens, days apart, in Bremerhaven in Germany, with the same precision kills, the same motive and the same untraceable weapons used. His forensics department had spent weeks trying to trace the weapons used but what frustrated him most was that they were no clearer to identifying either the weapons or the killer. CCTV had a partial image but nothing that would amount to reasonable to use and wouldn’t stand up in court.
It was true; he admitted to himself as he got up to grab another coffee and head out for a cigarette which previous to this case, he had given up, it was virtually a cold case. Then a call came in requesting his presence in the office upstairs. He huffed at the thought of having to wait for his cigarette break. He made his way upstairs and used the laser eye scanner to enter the room. There he found a file and a young female investigator waiting for him. He read through the paperwork hoping it was worth cancelling his cigarette break for, or this girl would be reprimanded. His eyes shone as two plane tickets and hotel reservation paperwork fell out. He picked up the tickets and read out the destination whilst looking up at the young girl who would accompany him and with whom he would meet their CIA counterparts:
‘Bremerhaven, Germany?’ he questioned thoughtfully.
El Toro ‘The Bull’ stood rigid, rooted to the spot with his fully automatic machine gun, pump action shot gun, Uzi 9mm and knife as he watched the disturbance in the water out of the window. He had been trained well enough to know when he could spot something that wasn’t right and he was convinced he had spotted two or more divers in the water and, after checking the island schedule, had realised there was no dives booked today so it could only mean one other thing: whilst they were blissfully planning to locate Thomas Lundon, HE was planning to attack THEM. Big mistake in a fortress like this, it was impenetrable, and he had made a few ‘unofficial’ modifications to its defences. El Toro reached under the window frame and found the black panic button. He pressed it and listened for the sound of crunching gears as the steel blast proof window protectors slid down over every single window in the house. The room went dark and then a red light lit up the room, the computers instantly switched to every single CCTV camera on the island and another bought up a radar screen. From the concealed speakers, El Toro heard the female voice he had programmed.
‘Attention all personnel. The castle is now in lock down.’
Another monitor advised ‘intruder alert in sector seventy-nine’, bringing up a 3-D map of the island divided by a grid overlay. El Toro ran to the fireplace and flicked the concealed switch unlocking the door to the priest-hole; he had also taken upon himself to have modified with a large steel blast door. Mark appeared at the door with his rifle already locked and loaded along with his other weapons from his room. He and El Toro ran to the window and, peering through the fire slats, spotted two helicopters flying low across the water directly towards them. Mark quickly slid his rifle through the firing hole and used his telescopic sight to scan the horizon. He cursed.
‘Shit! Two fully armed, Black Hawk helicopters.’
‘Armed?’ El Toro questioned.
Mark could see the M134D-H rotating machine gun mounted on the sides of each of them, along with the thermal imaging camera mounted on the nose.
‘Er, yeah, you could say that. M134D-H rotating machine gun mounted on the sides of each of them!’
El Toro and Mark started at each other. El Toro explained, ‘There is no way they can access the castle. They need a really big a gun!’ Mark wasn’t convinced. ‘Doors are a blast proof!’
So he would just pick them off, one at a time. Mark rushed to another window.
‘The first things to hit are the choppers!’ Mark shouted.
They both chased up the winding stone staircase, which lead to the roof. On the way there, El Toro stopped at a wooden door and pushed it open; in the room was a wooden cupboard built into the wall with a control panel on it. El Toro punched four numbers into the control panel and his fingerprint and the door sprung open. He reached inside and pulled out probably the finest OICW (Objective Individual Combat Weapon) gun Mark had ever seen. El Toro loaded her up with ammo and grabbed the rest and put them in his pockets. Mark just stared as El Toro smiled.
‘Señor?’ he said calmly and matter-of-factly. ‘If you are a, ’ow you say, kaboom with a ’elicoptere, you need a big a bombs right?’
Mark laughed out loud
‘Haha yeah, a big a bombs.’
They both laughed and clinked gun barrels before both rushing to the roof. El Toro was first through the door and let of two or three grenades into the air. Two waiting choppers lowered ropes down to allow two men each to slide to the ground. Initially one missed, but the other caught the nose of a chopper and took out the thermal imaging camera mounted on the nose. The chopper beached sharply to the right sending the two men swinging on the rope before dropping them to their inevitable deaths on the rocks below. Mark’s DAN .338 sniper rifle was already in the air as the two men clad in black were falling from the chopper’s ropes. Mark, in a moment of mercy, fired off two shots and the flailing bodies now slumped as they fell. El Toro patted him on the back for his act of kindness, and to celebrate two of the most fantastic sniper shots he had ever seen. El Toro was breathless.
‘Good man,’ he huffed to Mark as he smiled, pleased with himself at his quick thinking.
They may have been out to kill them but that didn’t mean they had to die a horrible grisly death on rocks.
El Toro was already on the other chopper, firing off shot after shot after shot of grenades which were bursting on impact but it didn’t seem to do any good. They heard a loud explosion on the rocks and realised it must have been the first chopper eventually crash landing. Out of nowhere, a hail of bullets ripped the ground under Mark’s and El Toro’s feet as the inexperienced passenger of the chopper got the M134D-H rotating machine gun working and tried to fire it straight. As El Toro and Mark both ducked for cover, Mark realised that, if they were having trouble using this gun, they weren’t perhaps as experienced as he had first thought and THIS was a weakness. The ropes descended and three men clad in black combat gear and helmets held their weapons up as they ran around the roof top. Mark was the first to reach one, kicking the weapon away and aiming a punch with a Kevlar glove to just under the chin guard of the helmet. The soldier let off a scream as blood shot out and onto Mark’s black Kevlar vest. Mark landed a full weight kick to the soldier’s knee, and he crumpled under the weight of the injury. Mark used the soldier’s gun to smash him in the face whilst a shot rang out from Mark’s left. He froze to the spot, moving only his head as he looked left and right. To his right he saw a dead armed soldier and to his left he saw El Toro standing with his OICW still aimed. Mark nodded to him in gratitude and El Toro raised his hand to his head in a salute of acknowledgement. Then he was gone and Mark realised he had seen no one vanish like that, but the rooftop was now crawling with bad guys in combat gear so he really didn’t have time to stop and think about it. He dispatched the soldier he had fought with by a kick to the oesophagus, killing him instantly, and ran to the next one, this time with his weapon up, but it was too close quarters to use a sniper rifle for this style of fighting.
‘Eh Señor,’ El Toro cried.
Mark spun round just in time to catch El Toro’s 9mm Uzi which had yet to be used. El Toro had figured out Mark didn’t have the weapon for the fight, but he still had his OICW and was firing it off relentlessly while bad guys dropped all around him in splashe
s of blood and carnage. El Toro still had his cigar, and it was a real sight to behold watching him blasting away using this highly powered machine gun whilst laughing and taunting those he was killing AND sucking on a large cigar. For a large guy, he couldn’t half move fast when he wanted to. Mark caught the Uzi and instantly spun round firing it as he did so, taking out at least four guys on the run towards him. A hail of bullets from above sent Mark scurrying for cover as the gun above them roared into action a second time.
The rapid thump, thump, thump of bullets hitting concrete, flesh, metal and whatever else was in its path was deafening and Mark sat behind a low wall panting for breath. Suddenly it was as if everything had gone into slow motion as Mark spotted a body of a bad guy lying near him. He hauled it up and over his shoulder, using it as cover as he walked across the body-strewn rooftop towards El Toro. He stopped in the middle and felt the thud of what seemed like a thousand bullets hitting the body he was holding. As he heard the whir of the gun’s motor grind to a halt, he realised that was his moment; he dropped the body, took aim and emptied the entire Uzi’s magazine into the chopper above.
Thomas Lundon was sitting at the control tower of this long abandoned military base which once belonged to the UN, anxiously awaiting news of the assault on Cabrera Castle. He had three or four radio and communications operatives around him and Roman Vose was forever at his side. He heard the crackle of the radio as he jumped forward to hear news of Mark King’s death.
‘Control, control, this is Black Widow,’ the radio buzzed, ‘Alpha and Bravo teams are down. Repeat. Alpha and Bravo teams ARE down. Reques… immedi… assist… ret… con.’
There was an explosion over the airwaves. The radio let out one long, high pitched ‘beep’, and then fell silent.
Everyone was speechless and silent. The colour dropped from Thomas Lundon’s face as Roman Vose gripped his machine gun even tighter with rage. The radio operator tried repeatedly to get a response over the radio but it was no use. Lundon screamed and stormed out. It was now down to Charlie team to carry out what was left of their mission to kill Mark King.
‘Charlie One, this is control, SITREP!’
Charlie One witnessed Bravo team’s chopper crash into the rocks as they came ashore. Charlie One replied slowly, ‘Roger that, control. Just come ashore from our amphibious assault. Bravo team is down. Repeat, Bravo team is down. Alpha team sustaining repeated heavy weapons fire. We are moving to assist.’
Roman Vose winced as he heard this, as there were only four men in Charlie team and it seemed like Lundon had seriously underestimated Mark King. He had worries of his own and decided now was the time to leave. He made his way to his locker where he kept his personal items and thought it was about time he made preparations for a swift exit, should the worst happen.
Mark’s hand was sore from squeezing the trigger of El Toro’s Uzi 9mm and the vibrations of what seemed like a constant supply of bullets. At one point, Mark thought the ammunition would never end. He turned his head skyward again toward his bullets and saw the underside of the chopper riddled with bullet holes. The bullets must have caught the fuel tank as smoke poured out of the side as it veered off to the right in the same direction as the first chopper. Mark watched it dip low over the water, and then its nose turned upwards as the pilot tried desperately hard to gain altitude to put out what was now the makings of a nice little fuel tank fire. There was a pause, and then it exploded, sending bodies and twisted burning metal down to the waves below. The rotors hit the water and there was another explosion which sent a massive plume of water and smoke towards the sky.
On the rocks below, Charlie team shielded themselves from flying debris, as they watched in horror as the second chopper was downed. The lead, Charlie One, was on his radio to relay the message back to base.
‘Control, this is Charlie One. Both choppers are now down. Just Charlie team remaining.’
The other members of Charlie team looked helpless, wondering what to do. Once Charlie One had finished his desperate radio message, he waved them onwards and up the rocks towards the castle. Alpha team was down, now Bravo too, this really was turning into the mission they hoped it wouldn’t. Just four people remaining; what were four men against whatever was inside that castle? They had no idea about what kind of hell they were just about to enter.
Back on the rooftop stood Mark and El Toro, cut, bruised, injured but alive, amongst all the other dead and unconscious. Not all of Lundon’s soldiers were dead, some were injured and Mark made his way towards the survivors to question them. He held one at gunpoint and asked him repeatedly who sent them and where did they come from. This one spat at Mark as best he could so Mark took out his suppressed Glock and shot him in the chest before moving over to the next one.
‘Eh señor. So mucha for the mercy eh!’ El Toro commented.
Mark nodded and smiled, grabbing another by his throat. This one was slightly less injured and Mark shouted joyously to El Toro, ‘Hey, I think we got ourselves a talker!’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Williams was about to light his fifth cigarette of the day when the report came in. The admin assistant who came rushing toward him nearly tripped and fell in her rush to provide Williams with something which she thought would make his day. He looked up at her and smiled, almost laughing as she came tumbling towards him, her hands full of papers, trying desperately hard to stay upright in her heels.
‘Agent Williams,’ she puffed as she got closer to him.
‘Careful there, Vanessa,’ he warned, jumping to break her fall, ‘what’s the problem? I’m sure it’s not worth breaking your neck over. Or preventing me from having a cigarette break, come to think about it.’
She tried a smile, unamused by his comment but determined to be the one to break the news. He helped her by taking the papers from her and looked inquisitively at her as she tried to speak.
‘Agent Williams, we have the latest satellite imagery from our Algerian contact. Ain M’lila Airfield seems to be active and fortifying its position.’
‘You what?’ he exclaimed, looking stunned at her as she spoke. ‘You’re joking right, is this Rachel trying to take the piss?’
‘I don’t know what you mean sir, but these are the images just in,’ she said sternly as she directed Williams to the relevant page.
‘My god, what the hell are they doing?’ he asked, shocked.
‘We don’t know yet.’ Rachel’s voice from behind them made them both turn to look. ‘Looks like they are preparing for world war three from what we can gather. This place has been demilitarised for some time now so we’re curious about what they’re up to.’
Williams looked, horrified through the series of satellite images as he looked to Rachel for answers.
‘Come on,’ she said, grabbing the cigarette from him, ‘I’ll fill you in on the way.’
They both walked towards the ops room and Williams’ eyes widened as she explained.
‘Twelve hours ago, some heavy weapons were spotted by out Aerial Reconnaissance Drone after the locals complained of building noise coming from the airfield. Naturally this information reached our ears, and we conducted an over flight. Several armoured vehicles and a large number of troops were seen entering the base under cover of darkness. Intel suggests several large garrisons seem to be fortifying their positions.’
‘Yeah, but fortifying them against what?’ Williams asked.
‘We don’t know yet. We’ve checked with local intelligence and nothing seems out of place, no fall outs, no gang issues, and no political differences we know of.’
‘You think this has something to do with Azidi?’ he asked her, looking suddenly interested.
‘Possibly. He was sighted in Algeria last year, in fact, he spent three days there before returning to Syria, and then we lost him for a while.’
‘Well I have to get out there now, this could be our only chance to get him,’ he insisted, making a move towards the direction of his office to pick up his w
eapon.
‘Hold your horses, Nathan,’ Rachel said, holding his arm, ‘we have to wait for authorisation from the Algerians first. Until we know exactly what they are up to, our orders are to stand down and await further intel.’
Agent Williams was not a fan of ‘waiting for authorisation’. He was more swayed towards acting on information received, especially if time was a factor. And he WANTED Azidi, and he wanted him badly. He would not pass up an opportunity to take him out, even if it cost him his job.
‘Listen, Rachel,’ he placated, putting his hand on her shoulder patronisingly. ‘I know you and I have had our differences, but I have been after this guy since before you came here, I KNOW him, I know how he thinks, how he acts, what he does, everything.’
She pushed his hand off her shoulder, glaring at him with a look that reminded him whatever had happened between them before this job meant nothing now, and she was still his superior.
‘Agent Williams,’ she said quietly but firmly, staring at him all the while, ‘may I remind you I am your senior agent and superior; you will NOT try to undermine my authority!’
Williams gulped, realising he had pushed her too far. But he still would not back down.
‘I want answers,’ he hissed at her, his body language suddenly changing as he stood taller, shoulders back, back straight, almost in a defensive stance.
‘I understand that,’ she replied in a slightly more relaxed tone, ‘but it won’t get us anywhere If we burst in there, guns blazing and not asking questions.’
Williams sighed. He knew she was right, but it didn’t make him feel any better.