The Wrath of Shakira

by M. W. Fletcher

  They then emerged from the back door into the alleyway and complied with the order to lay face down, the green team radioed Roy with the news, two of the blue team moved closer to the three prostrate bodies, Omar turned his head and looked to the sky and shouted “Allah is great,” he reached inside his jacket and activated a small switch a millisecond later all three bodies vaporised in a flash of blinding light with an increase in the immediate air pressure coupled with the blast Shockwave, the approaching two blue team soldiers were blown back several meters off their feet their bodies taking shrapnel as the blast wave washed over them.

  Roy felt the reverberation through the ground and immediately observed a plume of smoke billowing above the roofline behind number nine.

  As this was unfolding the three at the front quickly stood up, two ran towards Roy and one ran towards the white team all reaching into their jackets, Roy screamed into his radio “kill them, headshots only,”

  In a split second Roy and the other members of the teams in Saracen Street raised their weapons; triggers were squeezed and three terrorists cranium’s exploded in a spatter of blood and brain matter, their bodies forced even faster across the ground as the bullets increased the initial momentum before they toppled over hitting the ground hard.

  Roy and the others in Saracen Street carefully walked forward their weapons trained on the three inert bodies; their normal reaction would be to deliver a final head shot but the three bodies were virtually headless.

  Roy radioed the teams at the back for a SITREP, a few moments passed before a reply was given, “three terrorist blown to kingdom come; also we have two down.”

  “How bad,” Roy replied.

  “Two of the black team are checking on them now, but it doesn’t look too good.”

  Each of the OSC teams had a fully qualified medic whom was able to patch-up wounds stabilise an injured person and administer a range of drugs to lessen the pain.

  The two downed OSC soldiers had wounds to the upper legs and arms, their flak jackets and helmets and facial protection had protected the more vital areas of their bodies.

  Max at the beginning of the siege had requested a medevac chopper and it was now touching down in Bartlett Park two hundred yards North of the casualties.

  Two paramedics were now running from the static helicopter across the park towards a gated opening; that led directly into the alleyway they immediately received a prognosis from the two OSC soldiers treating the wounded men.

  Two further paramedics arrived from the helicopter with stretchers, the paramedics spent fifteen minutes stabilising the wounded men, and they were then stretchered to the waiting helicopter for immediate evacuation to a military hospital.

  Roy Smith had made the call to allow the Metropolitan Police to enter the conflict zone to take control.

  Roy was now inside number nine Saracen Street, with other members of the squad conducting a systematic search for evidence; a Police inspector knocked on the framework of the broken front door Roy could see him from the kitchen directly down the hall from the front door and walked to meet him he clocked the two pips on his shoulder insignia edifying that he as an inspector.

  The inspector spoke, “I have been ordered to give you all the assistance you need.”

  “Hello inspector; my men will be out of here in the next hour, what I need is a record of the phone calls in and out of this house for the past month on this house phone, can you arrange that for me?”

  “I’ll have it given top priority, what do you want doing with the bodies.”

  “Have them bagged and removed; all personal belongings on them, evidence bag them and have them brought to me ASAP.”

  The inspector began to turn to walk away; he then rounded to face Roy Smith, “Sir... are we at war?”

  “A war yes, but not the conventional type inspector.”

  Roy made an about turn and walked back into the house.

  Vehicle Chase

  Vehicle Chase East London

  Saracen Street off East India Dock Road

  East London

  Lat = 51 degrees, 30.7 minutes North

  Long = 0 degrees, 1.3 minutes West

  To Victoria park

  Lat = 51 degrees, 32.0 minutes North

  Long = 0 degrees, 2.5 minutes West

  The second black team had pursued the fleeing van down Saracen Street where it turned right heading West along the East India dock road, the van swerved aggressively from right to left forcing oncoming vehicles out of its path and preventing the Black team from passing it.

  The van made a right turn into Burdett road, the A1205 North bound cutting the corner across the outsized yellow box junction.

  Passing on the left side of a car heading South the van clipped the rear nearside wing of the car causing the car to spin into the path of two other North bound vehicles one of which was a thirty-eight ton artic.

  The driver of the artic was forced to swerve to his right into the path of the Black teams Range Rover; the black team driver reactively swiftly, he applied a sharp braking action causing the weight of the vehicle to move forward putting most of the weight onto the steering wheels simultaneously he shifted down to second gear.

  As he engaged the clutch he came of the brake steered to his right away from the oncoming truck and applied harsh acceleration, creating what is termed as a power gear change.

  The vehicles weight moved to the rear, the four-wheel drive system pulled the Range Rover into a very tight right turn narrowly missing the truck, into Burdett road following the van that had increased its distance from the pursuing vehicle.

  The van was leaving a trail of destruction around it, with vehicles being forced off the road and multiple collisions as other drivers took evasive action.

  The Black team were hampered by these obstructions and it took them a full mile to catch the van up as it went straight through the junction of the A 11 Mile end road into Grove road.

  The van driver was immediately aware that his pursuers had caught him up, he began to swerve and apply harsh braking, and the Black team driver dropped off the van.

  He knew one mile ahead that the road had a roundabout with the junction with Old Ford road; this would afford him the opportunity to intercept the van, as the roundabout came into view he accelerated harshly and timed his intercept perfectly, as the van entered the roundabout to the left he quickly judged his manoeuvre around to the right just missing a vehicle coming in from his right.

  All this had been done on the assumption the van would take the road ahead, which it did; the driver of the Black team was now coming in from the right of the van. The van driver had not seen the Black teams move and was caught completely by surprise; he was forced to swerve to his left into the Crown gate west entrance to Victoria Park.

  Due to the vans, high centre of gravity this aggressive turn caused it to begin rocking from side to side; the driver tried earnestly to control the van. However, the laws of physics on this occasion won, the van pitched over onto its left side and the momentum carried it down onto the grass stopping several yards from the bandstand.

  The band that had been playing a regimental tune stopped with everyone turning to see the stricken vehicle, the Black team’s vehicle braked heavily stopping yards away from the van.

  The driver of the van was emerging from the driver’s door window with an AK-47 assault rifle, as soon as the spectators witnessed this there was wide spread panic,

  people were running away from the van into the park.

  One of the Black team had emerged quickly and was taking aim with his newly acquired British Army L96A1 sniper rifle; in a second, he had chambered one of the five 7.62 mm NATO rounds, pulled the stock into his right shoulder, scoped the head of the terrorist van driver and smoothly squeezed the trigger.

  The round left the ba
rrel with a muzzle velocity of 2,790 feet per second striking the target in a nanosecond, the terrorists head plumed in a spray of greyish red colours, his body went limp with the assault rifle dropping to the ground.

  The Black team quickly surrounded the van observing the remaining two attempting to level their weapons at them from within, a quick burst of Heckler and Koch through the front windscreen claimed their lives.

  The Black team were aware of the shoot out and bomb blast back at Saracens road having listened to the running commentary from their colleagues on their two-way radios.

  The team leader reported the conclusion to the chase back to Roy Smith.

  Max had been listening into the siege and concluding vehicle chase, he picked up the nearby phone and called Strayker at Whitehall place.

  Strayker’s secretary put him directly through, Max gave Strayker an up to date SITREP.

  Strayker listened when Max had finished; he decided it was time for Ruth Nelson their press officer to earn her keep. Strayker thanked Max for the update and ordered the units to RTB.

  He then spoke to his secretary and asked her to contact Miss Nelson to meet him in his office.

  Ruth was at her desk, which was situated on the first floor of Whitehall place.

  Strayker had spoken to the Prime Minister with the update on the action in East London.

  Several minutes later Ruth was seated in Strayker’s office taking copious short hand notes dictated by Strayker about the firefights in East London.

  One hour later, she had called a press conference giving details of the units operation.

  When she concluded the hands of press officers were waving and jostling with the usual din for questions, one man approached Ruth at the front of her podium and stood there facing the crowd with both hands raised high; it took several seconds but the journalists all sat back down and silence reigned in the room.

  Ruth recognised the man in front of her as he turned to face her.

  It was Ethan Marsh the leader of the British National Party, “Miss Nelson; from recent events and information that I have gained, it would appear that we are being attacked in our own country by an ethnic group of Muslims is that correct?”

  Ruth found herself on the spot for a moment; however, she was too professional to allow this man to fluster her.

  “Mr Marsh; it would be unfair of me to comment that all these acts have been spawned by persons from the Muslim faith, in fact as you are no doubt aware; true believers in the Muslim faith generally detest this type of violence. But; in all societies groups of people band together to further their own agendas outside that which is the common law or beliefs of the land. We have groups in this country that fall under those criteria that I am sure you are aware of.”

  Ethan Marsh was impressed with Ruth’s answer however he had one more question “Miss Nelson; can the government guarantee the safety of the citizens of the United Kingdom with these current acts of terrorism. That appears to be on the scale of urban battles that would be more at home in the Middle East?”

  “Mr Marsh; this country has endured in its history many battles on these shores in fact to remind you; we are still at war with elements of terrorist from Northern Ireland, resulting in countless atrocities with civilians taking the brunt of the mayhem, I can assure you that the OSC will hunt down the main perpetrator and deal with him accordingly; that will be all for now.”

  Ruth made a quick about turn and left the room.

  African Continent

  African Continent

  Brazzaville the capital of Congo

  Lat = 2 degrees, 53.9 minutes North

  Long = 29 degrees, 31.9 minutes East

  Journey to Sumbe Luanda

  Lat = 11 degrees, 9.6 minutes South

  Long = 13 degrees, 52.7 minutes East

  Thursday 30th June 1988

  The five hundred mile journey to Sumbe Luanda from Brazzaville had taken Vas Nelson and his guide Ben five days and four nights, in a twenty-year-old beat up but reliable Landrover.

  Many of the villages they camped at had no clean water and water pumps or other basic services; fortunately the Landrover carried enough clean water in large five-gallon containers.

  When they arrived in Sumbe; Ben dropped Nelson at the Catholic mission, “jou wag hier; Ek kom back later.” (You wait here, I’ll come back later).

  Vas entered the mission and was greeted by Father Jacinto the mission priest whom spoke in English, “hello my son what can we do for you.”

  “I need a place to rest a wash and some food, I can pay You?” Replied Vas.

  “Father Jacinto looked at Vas before replying, “that is not necessary my son; you may however make a donation to the mission, come follow me.”

  Vas was led to a large court area where he was given a local meal of fish and then given a mattress bed in a dormitory and shown a shower where he cleansed his body he then slept for five hours before being woken by Father Jacinto.

  “My son your friend has returned and is awaiting you in the courtyard.”

  “Thank you father,” Vas pulled out a twenty-dollar American bill and pressed it into Father Jacinto’s hand.

  “Your hospitality has been most welcome.”

  “It is nothing my son; however you seem to be a decent man, why do you travel with that man.”

  “You know him father?”

  “He is a bad man my son, and is in association with the devil himself.”

  “This devil; what do you know about him?”

  For the next few minutes father Jacinto narrated everything he knew about this devil including the name; Shakira Umbobo.”

  “Thank you for this information father, for the time being let’s say my traveling colleague Ben serves a purpose, I need a favor from you, and do you have a phone I can use and can you let Ben know I’m taking a shower and will be with him shortly.”

  “I can show you to the phone; however I cannot lie for you, but leave it with me I will stall this Ben.”

  Ben made the call to ICIS it took a couple of minutes to be connected and was put straight through to Strayker.

  GAIL had traced the location of the phone call as Sumbe in Angola.

  “Vas; I presume your phoning with a SITREP,”

  “Yes sir,” Vas Nelson gave a very quick situation report.

  Strayker’s keen ear could detect that Nelson was in a hurry, “Your orders are now changed Nelson, I want you to observe your target and report every twelve hours, do you understand?”

  “Yes sir; I am to observe only.”

  Vas replaced the phone and hurried to the courtyard where father Jacinto was trying to convert Ben into the catholic faith.

  Ben looked up; “War jou bein mon?” (Where you been man?).

  “Just taking n stortbad.” (Just taking a shower).

  “Well jou stil lyk ugly.” (Well you still look ugly).

  Ben laughed at his own humor.

  “Jou nee beter uself.” (You’re no better yourself) Countered Vas.

  “Kom die mon sal sien jou nou.” (Come now man, he will see you now).

  Vas turned to father Jacinto; “thank you for you hospitality.”

  “Anytime son, God go with you both.”

  The trip to Shakira’s house took fifteen-minutes by vehicle ending in a winding drive up a hill to a villa perched on a plateau overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.

  “Die Mon ge goed plek hier Ben”. (The man has a good home here Ben).

  “Hy has,” Replied Ben.

  Vas Nelson followed Ben through the house to the veranda overlooking the Atlantic Ocean; it was half an hour before sunset with the sun just touching the horizon line with the sea.

  Vas noticed a man sitting facing this stunning sunset, he watched as the sun appeared to enter
the sea and was expecting the hiss noise like that from a hot iron placed in water.

  The man got up from the chair walked towards Vas, “I hear you have been looking for me?”

  “If you are Shakira Umbobo; then you are correct.”

  “My man Ben says; you are looking to do the killings for me.”

  “If the money is right.”

  “Why do you think I need a man like you?”

  “A man that can kill without question would always be welcome in the environment you appear to live in.”

  “So you are good at the killings mon?”

  Shakira removed a 9 mm browning pistol from his holster and handed it to Vas, shoot Ben now.”

  Vas pulled the slide mechanism back cocking the mechanism and hammer at the same time sliding the safety catch, he turned quickly and aimed at Ben’s head, he squeezed the trigger; the hammer fell with a click.”

  Shakira laughed aloud, “you knew it was unloaded Mon?”

  “It felt lighter,” Replied Vas.

  “Strip it down for me?”

  Vas quickly stripped it down into its seven components, consisting of the frame, the slide, the barrel, the magazine, the slide-locking lever.

  The main spring and the main spring guide and the magazine.

  “You know your weapon Mon,” responded Shakira.

  “It is my trade to know my guns,” replied Vas.

  “How can I trust you?”

  “Well if you have me kill someone worthy to kill; would that satisfy you?”

  “That’s an interesting proposition; I may take you up on that.”

  Shakira looked over at Ben, “show him to the billet and settle him in, I’ll let you know my decision tomorrow Mon.”

  OSC London