The Oxford Code

by Ray Christie

  “That explains the smile, not afraid of death when I was about to shoot him”, Jean-Baptiste adds from the backseat.

  “Ok, we will hit these Russians, they are twenty minutes ahead of us.”

  “We are slowing them down with a few extra red lights, we don’t want to add too many otherwise they will know, so far they do not want to attract attention and are observing the road rules. Not like you have to; you should catch up within minutes.”

  Jack looks over at the speedometer and finds the needle pointing at one hundred and ten as they leave the Newham Way and turn the long left onto the North Circular Road.

  Jean-Baptiste ignores the road and carefully checks over all the weapons which he pulled in from the back.

  The navigation system shows Trevor driving north, not turning off to the small airfield at North Weald which would have complicated the situation.

  “He drove past both Stapleford and North Weald, doubt he would use Stansted, too risky, still leaves Cambridge Airport, ok, Julie you keep a watch on Trevor and once we finish with the Russians we will catch up with him, the more north he goes the fewer options he has.”

  “Copy last Jack, but please don’t intercept the Range Rover until a few miles north of Stansted, that way we can block off the roads afterwards, we don’t want the public seeing anything.”

  “Copy.”

  Jack is handed an MP5 from the back, loaded and on safe, he shoves a Sig Sauer into his belt and speaks again. “Julie, guide us past the Range Rover on a side road, we will ambush them instead of running up behind them, I don’t trust what they are carrying in the back of their vehicle.”

  “Good plan,” Sam speaks slowly and confidently as he is focused on the trance-like road markings forming a continuous white line racing underneath them as the Jaguar’s wheels straddle both lanes.

  Jack steals another view of the needle which shows it sitting at one sixty, clearly not a factory standard engine.

  “Ok, standby…, in one minute take the off-ramp, the GPS is set, Jack you can navigate,” Julie is now handing off, watching from the eye in the sky.

  “Sam get ready for this left turn; you need to slow, three, two, one, now…” Thinking Sam was not listening to him Jack looks over into Sam’s eyes. As he did he was thrown forward and caught sharply by the seatbelt, the car engine roaring as the Jag rounded the bend on the off-ramp, the squealing from the tyres marked their departure from the M11. Once the car straightened the accelerator was floored once again. Jack’s heart was pumping, he was loving it. Five minutes of exhilarating countryside rally driving went quickly. The special forces method of driving meant high speed with exterior white, red and brake lights all deactivated using a built-in switch, whilst navigating under the guidance of their GPNVG-18 Ground Panoramic Night Vision Goggles. The car tyres screeching once again as it entered the M11. Keeping their lights off would ensure the Range Rover driving on the motorway would not have seen a highspeed vehicle moving through the countryside on their left.

  “Ok guys, we have a good area coming up, Jean-Baptiste you know what to do.” Sam slammed on the brakes bringing the Jaguar to a dead stop, Jean-Baptiste jumped out and disappeared into the hedgerow. The car lurched forward once again continuing up the M11 for two miles before pulling off the road at a layby before the village of Chesterford. The two men then ran out and set up their ambush. The motorway has a wire fence running north to south separating the four lanes, which will keep the Range Rover within the two northbound lanes. This allows Jack and his men to attack in a narrower fire lane with less chance of the Range Rover swerving past them.

  “Where are they now?” Jack was securing the earpiece whilst running south down the road to take up his position.

  “They are approaching your location, ETA one mike, they have reduced speed.” Julie was proving help in so many ways. Jack wished it did not take deaths of innocents for the agency to share resources.

  Sam was getting into position, it was time.

  The bright lights of the Range Rover were coming closer, both men removed their NVGs to allow their natural night vision to adapt. The land was so flat here, void of mountains and forests with no immediate place to run a car off the road, the moon was making its appearance between the clouds every so often, right now it was shining well. Jack knew they needed to wait until the last possible second before hitting them hard, the element of surprise was the only thing in their favour against the Spetsnaz.

  With about three hundred meters between himself and the targets, Jack observed the lights of the Range Rover dip then turn off completely.

  “Delta, what is happening down there?” Sam was dug in north of Jack waiting for the primary attack before he begins his own.

  “We have been spotted, they have stopped, turn on your NVG thermal, they must have thermals also, eye in the sky what is going on?”

  Julie speaks fast, “Four targets have exited the car and entered the field to the west and are proceeding through the fields at speed, the driver is still inside and is creeping along the road at ten miles per hour towards you.”

  “Foxtrot, you are on the driver wait for my signal.”

  “Copy, eyes on target.” Jack could hear Jean-Baptiste breathing strongly as he approaches on foot towards the Range Rover, providing security from the south.

  “Golf, get wide and flank these guys, heads up when on target.”

  “Copy that,” Sam makes his way over the barbed wire fence and creeps through the field of barley towards higher ground flanking the targets.

  Jack makes his way slowly down the road towards the Range Rover under the guidance of Julie.

  It took a less than a minute for the Spetsnaz to cover about two hundred meters through the long barley, now they dropped to a crawl hidden by the crops. Unable to see Sam or Jacks position exactly the four-pipe hitters were only about thirty meters out. Julie kept the two men updated and continued to provide critical directions for them. “Golf two degrees left, twenty-five meters and closing, two targets.”

  Sam slowly adjusted without making noise.

  “Half a degree right, twenty-four meters.”

  Another adjustment by Sam, then it was Jacks turn. “Delta, your two men are along the wooden fence, one has climbed to the roadside and are following a natural path towards your directions, stay in place, forty meters, thirty-nine, thirty-eight…”

  Jack began to count in his head, “Foxtrot, wait for the lights then action.”

  “Copy that, eyes on.”

  “Golf protect your eyes in ten.” Jack silently removes an M84 Stun Grenade from his jacket.

  “Copy last.” Sam listens to the barley slowly being parted as the target inches his way towards him. He carefully removes his own flashbang grenade and gets ready to lob it in the air.

  “Three, two, one.”

  Both Jack and Sam send their payload of magnesium and ammonium, the pyrotechnic metal-oxidant mix lights up the English countryside blinding the Russian operators. The sound of a sniper rifle could not be heard as everyone’s ears were ringing. Jean-Baptiste killed the driver of the Range Rover with a headshot, the interior of the vehicle now covered with blood, brains and lumps of skin and hair.

  Allowing the flashbang to cause temporary blindness to their targets gave Sam the opportunity to launch his attack. Rising up on one knee with the MP5 raised to his shoulder he shot both men twice then scanned for the two Jack was after. The moonlight was moving back behind cloud cover, but it still illuminated the barley field just enough for him to see Jack standing facing him with his thumb up. He raised his thumb then both men began jogging back towards the Jaguar.

  “Foxtrot, all clear, make your way back to the car.”

  “Copy that,” Jean-Baptiste had relocated the Range Rover off the motorway and was running towards them.

  Back in the car and once again Sam floored the Jaguar’s engine with all men sinking back into the leather seats. Pulling out onto the M11 Jack secured his weapon and sought an
update on Trevor’s position while Jean-Baptiste reloaded magazines.

  “Ok men, Trevor has arrived in Cambridge, he is slowly moving north on Trumpington Street towards King’s Parade.” The GPS shows the BMW driving past Corpus Christi College and coming up to Kings College.

  “Jack, you need to stop Trevor from getting inside those churches,” Julie’s voice came through the speakers with a subtle note of panic.

  Jack looked to the back seat to find Jean-Baptiste with a confused face, as had Jack.

  “Come again Julie, what have the churches got that we haven’t? once a target steps inside a place of worship it simply becomes just another building.”

  “It’s not the church so much, what is underneath them makes us worried. Our intel, well that provided to us by religious historians describe a complex network of tunnels which were used to connect the churches to each other and many other historical buildings. Used in times of invasion to move valuable artefacts. These are up to seven hundred years old.”

  Jack opens the map of Cambridge up on the dash, he is struck by the number of churches that have lit up.

  “Shit, there are dozens of churches and various colleges and buildings attached. Are you meaning to tell me the agencies have no recent intel on them?”

  “We have maps hastily produced in the sixties and lightly revised in the eighties, once the cold war ended there was no need to revisit them.”

  Sam takes the roundabout hard and soon he is racing along Barton Road hitting speeds over one-thirty.

  “We will be there in two mikes, just keep us updated, if we have to hit him in the tunnels then so be it, we will be sure to genuflect as we enter.”

  The car now on The Fen Causeway Jack lays out his plan to the men.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Cambridge, England

  Trevor stops the car, his communications with Anjeze have produced no important intelligence. He figured she would have been picked up by Jack’s men, interrogated and her body dumped in the French countryside by now. Playing her like a cheap pawn has told him everything he wanted to know, she has turned against him and now her name has been added to his hit list.

  The day will break soon and contact with the Russians has stopped. The men are closing in on him. Their latest reports were of men in a Jaguar setting up a roadblock, Jacks men. Trevor knew his last hand to play had better be a good one.

  Out of the car he carries with him a leather briefcase, information within complied over the years. Details of democide, corruption, financial transactions, and ghost companies which show traceable links to the politicians at the highest level of cabinet. As he walks quickly down St Edward’s passage he pulls from his jacket the recently oiled Glock, keeping it tight to the front of his body with his finger resting on the trigger guard. He is not on his way to submit evidence to the police, a high-profile BBC or Guardian journalist or even to the Lord Chief Justice himself, as he too is on the books. Trevor has in fact moved over to the other side, the Cambridge men, these highly privileged men were cut from the same cloth as the Oxonian’s, however, their contacts reached deep inside the Vatican. The government of the Catholic church, which is shrouded in mystery and far removed from the clutches of even the world’s best intelligence agencies. It was off-limits to the government, and it was Trevor’s get out of jail card and the final option he was forced to pursue. This will cost him dearly, giving up his documents and a huge slice of his fortune, which in turn will secure a protective and secretive flight to Rome. From there he will be given a new identity thanks to the Vatican’s own inhouse intelligence services. Not even the Whitehouse will intervene thereafter.

  Waiting outside the graveyard Trevor steps back into a doorway, fearing an armed drone. He looks towards the stars; a satellite a few hundred miles above would be looking right back at him. Nothing much he can do now, once underground he will be lost to the reconnaissance team, later re-emerging at another location when the all-clear is received.

  Scanning both alleyways and the graveyard opposite, he cannot hear clearly if any cars are approaching on the main street. He drops his head to look at his watch when something catches his eye. Standing not two feet from him is an old man dressed in black with a cane, a white beard, and intelligent eyes.

  “Follow me please.”

  With that said the man walked straight ahead and turned into the church grounds. Trevor followed with the weapon pointed at his back, unable to trust anyone he would shoot him right on the alter if needed. The man led him into the church and into the Sacristy. Closing the heavy oak door behind and securing it with an iron lock he turns and drags a rug from the floor revealing a thick looking trap door.

  “If you can please, it’s quite heavy for me.”

  Trevor feeling so close to freedom sets the briefcase down and with his spare hand lifts the trapdoor open to its full position. Below him, he can barely make out the dark floor of the underground walkway but reckons it is a good twelve feet. A ladder is fixed to the stonewall which the old man points at using his cane. “Drop down there and follow the tunnel to your left as you face the wall, it is a good twenty-minute walk, its cold, dark with a few vermin. There will be a man waiting for you where we will lead you to another door.”

  “Very well.” With his briefcase in one hand, Trevor placed the Glock into his jacket, a torch was handed to him which he tucked under his arm, feeling nervous he made his way down into the tunnel. As he looked up towards the old man the tunnel was suddenly covered in darkness, the deafening boom of the trapdoor shutting rose the rodents from their slumber. Switching on the torch Trevor checked the structure of the tunnel and with a deep breath of stale damp air he heads off on his walk to near freedom.

  ***

  “We have his last position just off St Edward’s passage and entering an old Church. He has not reappeared. He may have accessed a tunnel; your GPS is updated.”

  “Copy Julie, into the tunnels it is. Keep overhead and do all you can.”

  There was silence in the car as Sam brought the car to a halt on Peas Hill. They all knew the dangers, it could be a trap, the tunnels could be wired for an explosion, perhaps more Spetsnaz could be waiting or Trevor himself could be looking to go out on a murder-suicide mission. This was the world they live in; personal last thoughts and prayers complete now it was time to hunt. Standing twenty meters back from the car Jack provided security whilst the men set about strapping weapons to their bodies. He could not help but laugh as the four tubed NVGs on their heads made them look like aliens, stepping onto the church grounds kitted up and armed looked like they are time travellers stepping back to the biblical times.

  Sam motions for Jack to cover his back as he enters the Church, noticing Jack laughing causes him to giggle at the situation. This, in turn, sets off Jean-Baptiste, all three men are laughing like schoolgirls until they see an old man appear in front of them. Sam catches the hold of him and quickly checks for weapons, Jean-Baptiste checks the area from which he approached while Jack takes up a defensive position.

  “Where is our friend old man? we know he came in here.”

  The old man, startled yet composed replies, “My son, are you familiar with the parable of the weeds? The kingdom of heaven is like a man…”

  Cutting him off Jack calls out, “Are you familiar with an MP5?”

  “I’ve got this.” Replies Sam, “Listen, we are sent by the government to stop a man killing more people, he has innocent blood on his hands and the dirty money he is offering for his freedom will only destroy those that seek to prosper from it, he cannot hide, please don’t allow your great commitment to our Lord to be tarnished at this stage of your life. That man has sown weeds in innocents’ people’s fields, just as Matthew said.”

  The old priest drew a smile across his wrinkled face, he pulls a set of rosary beads from his pocket and places them into Sam’s hand. “Inside my dear child you will find a trap door in the Sacristy, he left there a few minutes ago, turn left when you drop down, I will
pray for you.”

  Sam nodded and thanked him as Jean-Baptiste ran past them both and entered the church. Moments later the three men had raised the trapdoor, dropped down inside the tunnel, then began moving along keeping twenty meters distance from each other. Jack was on point checking for tripwires. Comms were down, no support, from here on in they are operating on pure and natural instinct. Jack was smelling the air, trying to separate from the damp water and rodent faeces any traces of human life. A taste of a cigar, aftershave, breath mints, anything at all would give him an indication of how close he was to the spymaster. The thermal NGV shows patterns of blue and greens, with small red dots scurrying about after their food. After about ten minutes of quick pace, Jack drops to his knee and signals his men to stop. Through the trickle of water, he listens intently for signs of human life. He sits there for a minute and is joined by Jean-Baptiste, adjusting his Walkers tactical earpiece. “I hear it too.”

  “Ok, keep your steps soft, he sounds about fifty meters ahead.”

  Jean-Baptiste provides the various hand signals of ‘target ahead fifty meters’ to Sam and then Jack presses onwards.

  Another minute passes and Jack stops again, laying on his stomach in the few centimetres of water. He signals for them to stop; Sam turns and again provides security at the rear. Jack starts crawling towards a hatch in the tunnel ceiling. On his approach, he completes his final checks for tripwires, looks clear. The old trap door has large cracks between the oak planks, allowing Jack to slide a borescope through, giving him a picture of the room above. Placing the camera back in its pack Jack takes out his Sig Sauer, he pushes the trap door up slowly holding the weight of it against his shoulder. Allowing the upper part of his body to protrude through the floor he then sweeps the room quickly and pulls himself up. Once in position, he stands aside to allow the others to follow. The thermal NGV detects heat signatures three meters away on a wall, moving closer he notices a wooden door set into the stone. With Sam on the other side of the door, he tries to turn the heavy cast iron door handle. The door is locked tight. Sam shakes his hand after inspecting the lock. Their picking tools are useful for modern locks but no match for this. Jack removes a rapid assault pry bar and tests it against the lock. No luck, the cast iron is unmoveable. Jean-Baptiste, the demolition expert wastes no time, as the breaching kit is unravelled he begins sticking the explosive strips around the hinges and the lock.