The Wrath of Shakira

by M. W. Fletcher

  Strayker turned to the Superintendent, “we are at war with these bastards Superintendent and in war casualties are incurred, and I don’t like it any more than you, I will be getting our press officer to furnish a press release, it’s time the British public were brought up to speed on this and lord knows maybe get some help from them.”

  Superintendent Attlee was having an internal struggle with this new concept and Strayker could perceive this.

  He spoke to Superintendent Attlee, “Look my team is damn good; no let me rephrase that, they are the best at what they do, nobody else can touch them and we will get these Bastards. I cannot make promises on the collateral damage nevertheless, I will wrap this up with the minimum of losses at our end but with maximum damage to these terrorists.”

  He turned to Max; “go do your stuff Max.”

  Max returned to his men, “we hit the house in ten minutes.”

  Max found Superintendent Attlee, “has the school been cleared?”

  “Cleared five minutes ago Max.”

  “Good were going in now; pull your men back.”

  “Consider it done,” replied Superintendent Attlee.

  Max touched his throat mike, “Eagle three to Andy what’s the eyeball on the target?”

  “Just one; repeat just one X-ray at home downstairs rear room.”

  “Okay Andy stand off from target were going in hot.”

  Five minutes later OSC units had surrounded the house in Wellington way. “Eagle three to all units, I want this one alive and kicking we go in front and back simultaneously on my mark; three, two one go!”

  Stun grenades were fired into both front and rear downstairs rooms, followed by the front and down stairs doors being kicked in.

  Max led the team in through the back door, which was the kitchen area; on his left was the back room with Abu Wael standing in a disoriented state.

  Max levelled the Taser gun with the laser sight targeting the upper torso on Wael’s body, Max fired and the two electrodes struck the target area causing Wael to violently shake from the fifty-thousands volt charge; he felt his muscles seize and within a second he had collapsed unconscious to the floor.

  Max spoke into his throat mike, “X-ray down repeat X-ray down, sweep and secure house.”

  Max walked over and looked down at the unconscious form “you and me are going to have a long good chat.”

  Three Months Earlier

  Three Months earlier.

  Monday 27th March 1988

  Embankment Underground station London

  Lat = 51 degrees, 30.4 minutes North

  Long = 0 degrees, 7.3 minutes West

  Vas Dembo Eagle Five walked up the staircase emerging from The Embankment underground into Victoria Embankment; he 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.

  As Vas walked down the road crossing over to Whitehall place, anyone with a trained eye would have seen the purposeful gait the one hand always free coupled with what looked like a casual glancing around at his environment that was in fact a very thorough environmental awareness scanning routine.

  As he had entered Whitehall Place, he skipped up the ten steps and had opened the door; having completed the security checks, he entered Strayker’s office.

  Strayker looked up from the paperwork on his desk, “Good afternoon Nelson pull up a chair,”

  Vas was wearing casual beige Chino trousers with a grey polo neck short-sleeved top; his hair light brown in colour was a close-cropped number one grade cut, his face complexion like the rest of his body was a light chocolate colour pigment.

  Both eyes had a permanent squint with crows lines extending from them to the cheek line, the most remarkable point about him was his height; five-feet five inches tall together with his slight build projected the appearance of a small man of no significance.

  He was a Martial arts expert In Hap-Ki-Do; Hapkido is a complete self-defence system, it incorporates the redirection of force found in Aikido and Jujitsu, the devastating joint locks and throws found in Chinese systems, and the kicking technique of Tae Kwon Do. Hapkido incorporates both “hard” and “soft” techniques.

  “Have you read the report on Max’s recent mission?”

  “Yes sir; Max came through again as usual, how is he recovering?”

  “He should be up and running within the next two weeks and fully operational in a further two.”

  “Sir; I see from the report that the leader Shakira escaped the camp during the raid.”

  “That’s right; I’m giving you the job of tracking him down and sanitizing him, I suggest you get over to Jalalabad and contact our man Sami.

  “Sami still taking care of Hussein.”

  “Correct; get over there and apply pressure on Hussein; pump him for information on Shakira.”

  “Leave it with me sir.”

  “I’ll contact Sami and advise him you’re coming over to see him, good luck Vas.”

  Nelson turned and walked out the office.

  Red Cross

  Red Cross Jalalabad

  Lat = 34 degrees, 26.1 minutes North

  Long = 70 degrees, 27.7 minutes East

  Sami Ramadini worked at the Red Cross and Refugee center in Jalalabad and was a one of OSC’s worldwide intelligence gathering agents; Max had placed Hussein in Sami’s custody following his capture and torture.

  Strayker was on the phone to him explaining that Eagle Five would be arriving to interrogate Hussein about the whereabouts of Shakira.

  “How well is he recovering Sami?”

  “Well he’s up and about using a crutch to get around; I

  keep him in the secure room at the back and allow him regular exercise in the back compound.”

  “Good man Sami; you can tell him he will be having a visitor.”

  “Any idea when Eagle Five will be arriving sir?”

  “He’s visiting ICIS’s first before flying out to Dubai with a transfer to a local flight into Kabul; I’ll get him to give you a ring from Dubai with an ETA into Kabul.

  Sami hung the phone up and walked to the back of the building where Hussein was in the compound taking his daily exercise.

  He opened the door and stood in the entrance watching Hussein who looked up at him; there was the usual contempt in Hussein’s eyes.

  One of Sami’s many skills was as a surgeon and he had replaced Hussein’s fragmented kneecap with an artificial One, Hussein had made remarkable progress in the twelve weeks of recuperation however; he would always have a limp.

  “You’re going to have a visitor in a couple of days; someone wants to talk to you about your buddy Shakira.”

  Hussein spat on the floor and turned limping back to his room on the opposite side to the compound.

  Hussein sat down on his bed and contemplated his future this news could only mean one thing; Shakira was still alive he looked down at his knee, the infidel had done an excellent job in repairing it he raised it from the floor to the horizontal position; there was still some pain and stiffness but his regular exercising and general fitness were winning the battle.

  He quickly made up his mind; “It’s time to escape before this visitor arrives.”

  The following morning at 07:30 hours Sami went to Hussein
’s room with his breakfast, he opened the door and observed Hussein sleeping he placed the meal on a nearby table and turned to leave; as he approached the door he felt a split second of unbelievable pain to his head followed by a loss of consciousness.

  Hussein had faked his sleep knowing his captors routine, as soon as observed him leaving he had sprang from the bed and swung his crutch at Sami’s skull, his captor hit the ground like a bag of spuds.

  He quickly searched Sami and removed some keys from a pocket and then tied and gagged him up using strips of bedding sheet.

  He went to the door and observed the courtyard and listened, all was quite. He made his way to the main office gaining access with the keys; it was obvious none of the other staff had arrived yet.

  A methodical search of the office revealed an automatic handgun and a sum of cash that he stuffed into his pocket, five minutes later Hussein had walked out of the Red Cross building and into the street, it was still cold from the overnight clear skies, it would take another couple of hours for the sun to influence the temperature.

  He found a local man loading a jeep up with hand-woven carpets; he spoke to the man and showed him a handful of American Dollar bills, the man nodded and the money-exchanged hands. Hussein pulled himself up into the passenger seat and a few minutes later was being driven out of the town heading west.

  It was just after 09:00 hours when Sami was found and untied; he had a large lump and open gash on the back of his skull, along with a thumping headache.

  He went directly to the phone and contacted Strayker with the bad news.

  Eastern Airfreight

  Eastern Airfreight offices Muscat Oman

  Lat = 23 degrees, 36.7 minutes North

  Long = 58 degrees, 35.4 minutes East

  Vas had flown out to Oman and was sitting in Paul Wings office when he received the news off Hussein’s escape.

  Paul Wing was in charge of logistics for the Eastern airfreight company, he was also an intelligence gathering Vas turned to Paul, “Look’s like I won’t be needing that flight into Afghanistan now.”

  “A change of plans,” Paul enquired.

  “Nope Hussein has escaped. He could be anywhere now.”

  “What will you do know?”

  “It looks like back to blighty to see Vince at ICIS; hopefully I can attain some information from there.”

  ICIS Biggin Hill

  ICIS Biggin Hill Kent

  Lat = 51 degrees, 19.7 minutes North

  Long = 0 degrees, 1.3 minutes East

  It was ten hours later when Vas walked into ICIS near Biggin Hill, he went to Vince’s office and explained his dilemma.

  “It appears you have a needle in a haystack quandary Vas, I suggest you look in the intel-files, starting with Max’s intelliegence on Shakira and Hussein”.

  “That’s a start Vince.”

  Vas traipsed through the intel files on Shakira “christ,” he muttered, “this bugger could be anywhere in the continent of Africa.”

  As he was leaving the building he bumped into Vince, “any luck?”

  “Look’s like I will be spending some time in Africa Vince.”

  “Well if I get any info I’ll pass it on to you, good luck.”

  “Thank’s Vince I’m going to need it.”

  Brazzaville

  Brazzaville the capital of Congo

  Lat = 2 degrees, 53.9 minutes North

  Long = 29 degrees, 31.9 minutes East

  Starting in Zaire; the next three months Vas combed the continent of Central Africa, many of the countries were extreme hot beds with civil wars between tribal leaders all trying to gain the upper hand, in an effort to gain domination, however he blended in well his hair was now longer and he had braided it into his tribal dreadlock style.

  He had discovered that Shakira Umboko was well known, but he always encountered a wall of silence when it came to his current whereabouts, even when he offered monies for information.

  Shakira had been alerted to a Namibian man asking questions about his whereabouts. He dispatched one of his trusted followers named Ben to locate this man, whom was at present in Brazzaville the capital of Congo situated in Pool one of the ten regions located on the Congo river; immediately across from Kinshasa the capital of Zaire.

  Shakira had instructed him to give this man the information he required asking for sums of monnies to lead him to Shakira’s home town Sumbe.

  He had decided to observe this man on his home turf and then he would make a decision on what to do with this man.

  Vas was sitting in a bar when he was approached by Shakira’s man.

  The man spoke to him in a heavily Afrikaan’s accent, “I hoor jour looking for someone, beman?” (“I hear your looking for someone, bushman?”).

  Vas looked at the tall man, obviously from South Africa probably descendent from one of the Zulu tribes.

  Vas replied in Africaan’s “maybe I am, wat ken jou?” (“Maybe I am what care you?”).

  “For a prys I take’s jou toe hom beman.” (“For a price I take you to him bushman”).

  Vas paused as he drank his beer from the bottle, this was certainly suspicious, given the wall of silence so far this was totally out of the blue, but maybe it was worth the play. “Wat prys jou wens?” (“What price do you want?”).

  “Five thousand in dollars.”

  “To much I pay jou Two; one up front and one when I sien the beman.”

  “Dos be on jou own; beman.”(“You be on your own bushman”).

  Vas took another pull from his bottle, “wat is jou naam?”

  “Ma naam is Ben wat jour’s?”

  “Call me Vas.”

  “Why you soek dees beman Nelson?” (“Why you seek this man Nelson?”).

  “I hoor him take the skilled mens in killing.”

  “Jou so ’n beman?” (“You such a man bushman?”).

  “I done my stuk of killings Ben.”

  Ben looked at Vas, as with most Vas was easily overlooked as a nobody, yet Ben’s trained eye could See beyond that, “warr jou van?” (“Where you from?”).

  Vas looked Ben in the eye, “Caprivi Zipvel; jou ken it?” (“You noe it?”)

  “Ja mens, jous bushman?” (“Yes man, you a bushman?”)

  “Ek is Ben.” (“I is Ben”).

  “Wat jou dus Ben?” (“Where you from Ben?”).

  “Ulundi.” Ben replied.

  “Zululand; so then you Zoeloe Ben?”

  “Ja, my great granpa him fought at the battle Isandlwana kill many Brits soldiers.”

  “So Ben; jou ken this Shakira beman?” (“o Ben; you know this Shakira man?”).

  “I ken him, I deal ja money en take jou toe hom.” (“I know him, I take your money and take you to him”).

  “Jou wens a bier Ben?” “ja I drink with jou.”

  Both men drank their beers. Nelson spoke “hoe lank it take toe see ja beman Shakira?”

  “We leave môreoggend 08:00 urr’s.

  Press Office MOD

  Press office MOD Whitehall London

  Lat = 51 degrees, 30.2 minutes North

  Long = 0 degrees, 7.6 minutes West

  Thursday 30th June 1988

  The room on the fourth floor was buzzing with the chatter of reporters.

  From a side door emerged a tall red head female, her figure was slim with lively well-rounded breasts and a nice pert bum; she was not the sort of girl you failed to notice.

  Ruth Nelson was wearing a cream two piece jacket and skirt, white blouse and high heels, her long legs were sheathed in black ten-denier stockings, she walked over to the lectern placed her sheaf of papers upon it and looked down at the gathering of reporters some of which she recognized.

  Ruth Nelson; was single age twenty-five, home addres
s 10, Nelmes Way, Emerson park, Hornchurch near Romford.

  Education; Raphael Independent School Hornchurch, she left school at seventeen years of age with nine ‘A’ levels.

  Ruth undertook a postgraduate journalism course with the National Council for the Training of Journalists.

  Her hobbies are horse riding, swimming, and clay pigeon shooting.

  An expectant hush came over the gathering of reporters they all had their sharpened pencils and note pads at the Ready.

  Ruth began her briefing, “as everyone in the room is aware a few days ago we had an explosion at Paddington underground station a foiled attempt at Stansted airport; I can confirm these were a deliberate act of terrorism.” Ruth paused observing the shorthand notes being taken.

  “Today there was another explosion in Benledi Street East London, early signs are that this was again a deliberate terrorist act, exact casualties figures are still unclear but we have at present nine deaths and eighteen causalities with various levels of injuries four of which are critical,” again Ruth paused.

  Hands were immediately raised within the audience with a flurry of questions being directed at Ruth.

  Ruth raised her right hand with the palm facing the reporters and waited several seconds for them to quieten down.

  As the silence recovered Ruth spoke, “I know that you have many questions, and many of you know me from my journalistic days, the purpose of this briefing is to give you some information that would not normally be given this early on, firstly we believe these attacks are being organised from a source outside this country and what we have experienced over the last week is probably just the beginning. We ask that members of the public no matter what their religion or political stance is to look around and report anything that is suspicious; anything at all, as you can see the perpetrators of these acts are non-discriminate to race, colour, or gender we need to find the persons responsible and quickly,” again Ruth paused as the journalists made their notes.