Capture or Kill

by Tom Marcus

  Every step I move closer to Stormy Weather, I feel more confident that we’ll be able to snatch him away cleanly.

  ‘Riaz, Ryan, I’m closing in,’ I let them know. ‘Get ready with the doors.’

  ‘Roger that.’

  ‘Craig, roger.’

  I close in, five steps behind Stormy Weather, now it’s only us in this box as the bus creeps away. It has to be now. The can of spray paint goes into the deep pockets of my jacket, both hands now free to control him. Craig walks back towards the van with the cones in his hand. Stormy Weather stops dead. He may not be used to being on the street, but prison has made him wary, and suddenly he doesn’t like the situation he’s in. Fuck, we need to grab him now before he panics and takes off, putting him back in the A4 team’s vision. But it has to be done smoothly. If he shouts or struggles it will fuck everything. We’ll have the police and MI5 all over us in seconds. I can see that Craig’s aware of Stormy Weather’s discomfort, but he doesn’t know what to do. His van is too far away for him to risk bundling the target in.

  Taking advantage of the fact that Stormy Weather is still focusing on Craig and hasn’t clocked me, I move in fast. I nod at Craig, hoping he’ll understand instantly that I’m changing the plan – the target’s coming with me, in Alex’s van. Switching my body position so I’m side on to his back, I reach out with my left hand, grab his mouth and lift up underneath his nose, controlling his head. At the same time, I dig my hip into the small of his back and lift him off his feet, his wiry ginger beard scraping against my strengthening grip.

  As his hands come up against my left arm in a vain effort to defend himself, I’m already opening the side door of Alex’s van with my right hand. Throwing him in face down, I pile on top of him, slamming the door behind me. I can feel his panic.

  I shout to Alex, ‘Change of plan. Drive.’

  I catch her eye in the rear-view mirror, calm and focused. No point discussing why the hell Stormy Weather is in our van instead of Craig’s.

  I relax the pressure on him a little. ‘Sssh, my brother. Khalid, I’m not here to hurt you. We’re rescuing you. You don’t have to go back to jail. I need to get the GPS tag off your ankle, so the police can’t track you, OK?’

  His head turns and his eyes are wide with fear as I take my hand from his mouth and start to wrap the blanket round his anklet to block the signal.

  I need to keep talking so he can focus on what I’m saying and not on the physical situation he’s in. ‘I’ve been sent by friends.’

  It’s a risk, momentarily loosening my grip on him, but we have to make sure he can’t be tracked by the surveillance team. If he goes full-on apeshit now I’m going to struggle to get control of him again without doing him some serious damage, but luckily now my weight is off him and he can breathe freely, he begins to calm.

  ‘I . . . don’t . . . who?’

  He’s still in fight or flight mode, adrenaline coursing through his veins, and he’s finding it hard to talk as well as breathe.

  Alex can hear the commotion. ‘All good?’

  I know Alex is on top of this, driving quickly but without making it obvious. The whole team need to get out of the area before the A4 team leader organizes the search. I just hope Claire was close enough to get the message that she too should pull out.

  ‘Yep, all fine, we’ll be safe soon,’ I respond, as much for Stormy Weather’s benefit as for Alex’s.

  Confident that she knows how to improvise her part now, giving me the information I need while reassuring Stormy Weather that she’s part of his rescue team, I pause to take off my hard hat and high-vis jacket. Placing my hand over Stormy Weather’s, I look him directly in the eye.

  ‘I need to cut this tag off, OK? Don’t worry, I’ve done this many times and it won’t hurt, but you need to be still, OK? It’ll make a loud noise, but don’t be alarmed. It shouldn’t take long.’

  He holds my gaze, trying to work out if I’m really friend or foe, and grips my hand tightly. The moment seems to go on a long time. I realize I’m holding my breath.

  ‘OK, I trust you.’

  Bingo.

  He smiles and nods, his fear turning to relief that he won’t have to go back to prison, that he’s finally safe. Sliding my hand out of his grasp, I reach round and grab the disc-cutter, catching Alex looking at me in the rear-view mirror before her eyes return to the road. As the disc spins into life, I lift the blanket and Khalid’s shalwar kameez just enough so I can see the band of the locating tag without uncovering it completely. I don’t want a signal leaking out. Alex is keeping the van steady as I start cutting into the hardened plastic, and she takes the opportunity to brief the rest of the team, knowing that Stormy Weather won’t be able to hear her over the noise of the machine. The cutter breaks through the tag strap and it drops onto the blanket. Job done.

  ‘Sit tight, my friend, we’ll be safe soon.’ Brushing away the plastic shards, I stand up to talk to Alex from behind the seats. I tell her the tag is off ‘our friend’, just loud enough for Stormy Weather to hear, then lower my tone to add, ‘We could do with Ryan in here to get the info.’

  ‘Agreed, Claire is just behind the vans, the bus is in front of us. She’s going to fake a breakdown behind us, blocking the road going over the bridge. After that we’ll pick Ryan up and take the lights and signs off, then split up from the other vehicles. We’ll be there in one minute.’

  I sit back down with Stormy Weather, smiling to reassure him that what he’s just heard is all part of the rescue plan. I need to start adding some more detail to bolster his belief and make sure he doesn’t start wondering if we’re actually from British Intelligence.

  ‘Me and my crew, we work for a lot of different people, yeah? This is our thing. My mate is going to help us stay hidden from the police and we’ll get you to a safe place. The guy who paid us told us to get you to Hamburg. We’ve got a boat we can get you onto not far away, in Gravesend. It’ll be cramped, but you’ll have food and water. It’s only for a couple of days.’

  I knew he would see through me right away if I pretended to be a fellow jihadi, but I could play a people-smuggler with total confidence.

  The change of gears and climbing engine revs tell me we are on the bridge now, just as we hear the sirens of a fire engine screaming past us. I briefly catch sight of the blue flashing lights bouncing around Alex in the driver’s seat before they speed into the distance, presumably to deal with the small but smoky bin fire I started. With Claire behind us providing the block, we need to push further ahead and away from the A4 team. They’re probably still checking the bus for Stormy Weather, but we have to assume they are switched-on enough to be pursuing the vans, too. We need to put some distance between us so we can stop to remove all the highway maintenance signs and lights. And we need to do it quick, so Ryan can get the intelligence we desperately need about the brothers before Stormy Weather decides we’re not actually a bunch of people-smugglers trying to get him out of the country.

  ‘But I don’t know anyone in Hamburg . . .’ He looks quizzical, and I realize I need Ryan in here quickly. I may be pretty good at improvising, but he’s an experienced agent-handler.

  I shrug. ‘I don’t get told anything, my friend. Just your name, what you look like and where to take you. That’s it. I don’t even know your last name, Khalid. We get paid to move people around, nothing else.’

  The van veers left and there’s a crunch of gravel under the tyres, and before we’ve come to a halt, Alex is shouting, ‘Let’s go. All change, lights and signs.’

  I put my hand on his arm. ‘Wait here, Khalid. We need to change the look of the van to stop the police finding us.’ I wait for his answering nod before I jump out, leaving the side door open. Ryan and Riaz have finished stripping the other van and are walking towards ours as Craig drives off. I intercept them, giving Ryan a muttered heads-up and quick covers for them both before they approach.

  I usher them into the van. ‘Khalid, these are my friends, Aaron a
nd Omar. They’ll help get you to the ship in Gravesend, and on to Hamburg.’

  Ryan steps confidently into the van and shakes Stormy Weather’s hand.

  ‘Good to meet you, Khalid. We’ll be on our way in just a few seconds.’

  I rip the signs and amber lights off the van and quickly put on some rental-company stickers. Now we’re just another white van. I jump in the back, and Riaz is holding Khalid’s hand and kissing him on both cheeks, before saying ‘As-Salãmu Alaykum,’ in a comforting tone, playing his part to the hilt. Alex guns the engine and slips back into the traffic. She’s ditched the hard hat and jacket but is now wearing a dark-brown wig, brushed forward over her shoulders. I should be the last person to be taken in by a simple disguise, but she looks totally different.

  I lean over the passenger seat. ‘Route?’

  ‘Dual carriageway heading south.’

  I nod. Away from the prison, but also the opposite direction from base camp.

  ‘Craig’s gone north straight away. Alan’s arranging the pick-up of Craig’s car. I’ll do a big loop and head north soon.’

  I turn to see Riaz giving Khalid a sandwich and a bottle of water. ‘Khalid, we’ll be at the boat soon, but we’ve been asked to get two brothers out of the country too. The police are looking for them and I think they’re in hiding. They need to be on the same boat as you, otherwise we can’t help them.’

  Khalid looks dubious. ‘What brothers? I know many people. When I get to Hamburg where will I go next, Aaron?’

  Ryan isn’t fazed. Clearly he’s done his homework. ‘I’ll meet you in Hamburg with the two people who are paying us. I believe they are going to get you across the borders into Turkey then into Iran, but they want the brothers that were in prison with you. The ones with the scars? Masood and Hamza?’

  I’ve only ever referred to the brothers by their birth names or their code names, Iron Sword and Stone Fist, but Ryan is on the ball enough to use their prison convert names. It seems to do the trick.

  ‘Ah, yes. They will be with my cousin in Liverpool, 170 Mill . . .’ He pauses, an element of doubt obviously creeping into his mind. Ryan decides not to press him, but instead takes his phone out and pretends to make a call.

  ‘Yeah, it’s Aaron. Have a car pick the brothers up and bring them to the boat. Yeah, I’m with Khalid now. We’ll have to pay the guard at the port an extra grand to look the other way. Yeah, yeah. Hold on.’ Holding the phone away from his mouth, Ryan moves in closer. ‘Khalid, sorry, I missed it. 170 Mill . . . what?’

  There’s just a brief hesitation before Khalid answers. ‘Road. Mill Road. Knock on the door, ring the bell once, then knock on the door again. My cousin, Ali, will answer. Tell Masood and Hamza that their teacher sent for them.’

  ‘Got it.’ Ryan puts his phone back to his ear. ‘One-seventy Mill Road, Liverpool. Be quick – we don’t want the pigs to get them first. Knock on the door, ring the bell once, knock on the door again. Tell the brothers that their teacher has sent for them. Yeah, that’s right, mate. Be quick.’ He turns back to Khalid. ‘OK, that’s sorted. We’re heading to the boat now. I can’t travel with you to Hamburg, but I’ll be waiting for you over there and I’ll have the clean passports for you and the other two, OK?’

  ‘OK, thank you. But tell me, who is paying you?’

  It’s the obvious question. Ryan frowns, like he’s thinking on the spot. ‘Please, Khalid, don’t ask questions, OK? It’s how we stay out of prison and how you don’t get taken back there.’ He pauses to read a text message on his phone. I can’t see what it says, but it obviously gives him some information to feed into the role playing. ‘It will take us a while to get someone to pick them up, Khalid. We’ll try and have everyone together around the same time, about five-ish tonight to get you on the boat. If not, don’t worry, we’ll get them out a few hours after you. I’m just being honest with you, Khalid. We don’t have any helicopters I’m afraid, and if we get caught speeding, everyone goes to jail.’

  Khalid smiles at Ryan’s joke about the helicopters and looks more relaxed now. His doubts are gone. But Riaz and Ryan keep him talking just to make sure he doesn’t start thinking any more bad thoughts, while Alex keeps an eye out for other surveillance vehicles or police. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out to see a text message:

  Go to channel 10.

  Switching my covert radio to the different channel, I realize this is a specific message for me from Ops, which means Leyton-Hughes. But I can’t talk openly in front of Khalid. I signal that I’m on channel ten with our covert messaging system – Khalid has no chance of hearing or seeing this. I’m hoping Leyton-Hughes has been around operational teams enough to know this means I’m on the net but can’t talk.

  ‘Roger, the address Stormy Weather gave us checks out. He has a cousin, Light Rain, who lives at the address given. Thames House have a camera on that street. Alan is searching the footage now. It’s actually on the extraction list, ready to be removed, as no intelligence was ever recorded and Light Rain hasn’t been live-monitored for nearly a year. He’s no longer a priority. We are NOT passing this intelligence on to A4. We need to get you guys up there, and quick.’

  A thought strikes me. Khalid’s intelligence has paid out. So why the secrecy? Why am I being spoken to on a private channel no one else on the team can hear? Jeremy continues his message to me:

  ‘Logan, Stormy Weather is now Blindeye disposable. He cannot be allowed to identify you and the team, or reveal how we got him out of the area and that he gave up the brothers’ location.’

  I don’t respond, just replay his words in my head. Disposable.

  ‘So I’m being clear, he cannot be allowed to leave that van. Logan, acknowledge what I’m saying to confirm.’

  I reply back with the covert acknowledgement. Fuck.

  ‘Do it. Now! Ops out.’

  Time slows down, even though I can feel my heart rate going through the roof. I look at Khalid. He’s smiling and nodding at Ryan and Riaz. I guess even when you’ve preached a doctrine of hatred, when you’ve ordered people to blow themselves up, taking as many innocent lives as possible with them, there’s still a part of you that responds to kindness, that craves friendship instead of violence and death. Maybe if you strip away all the madness, that’s what’s left. Just an ordinary man, with the same desire for belonging as the rest of us.

  I wrench my gaze away and take a deep breath, trying to focus on the bigger picture outside of this van and its occupants. What do we matter, as individuals, after all – any of us? After switching my radio back to the team channel, I turn away so I’m facing into the corner of the van, away from Khalid’s eyeline. I take a roll of duct tape and four of the industrial-sized zip-ties, and start making two big loops.

  A message comes through the team channel. ‘This is Ops, Stormy Weather is now disposable. Logan has green light to start clean-up. Ops out.’

  Catching Alex’s eye as she looks in the rear-view mirror, I try to read her expression. Is it shock or just apprehension? I move behind Khalid with the zip-ties in my left hand, leaving my right hand to pull the nooses tight. Riaz is focused on keeping Khalid’s attention off me, chatting about the daily prison routine and the lack of respect from the guards, but I can see he’s drying up. The horror of what Leyton-Hughes has just whispered over the net to us is sinking in. Ryan is looking at his boots. Either he just doesn’t want to watch what’s going to happen, or he’s trying to avoid giving Khalid any clues about what’s coming.

  Let’s make this quick. Looping the zip-ties over Khalid’s head, I slam my bodyweight into his back and force his chest into his legs. His lungs are brutally squeezed, instantly expelling all the air. With my right hand, I grab the loose end of the bottom zip-tie and pull it tight. It digs into his skin, taking his ginger beard with it. He starts to squeal, gasping for air; I block out the sound and tighten the second one underneath his chin, back and forth, pulling them tighter in turn.

  I’ve lost the roll of ta
pe in the struggle, so I wrap my left hand over his mouth, pinching his nose at the same time, as hard as I can. He’s starting to fight for his life. The mucus streaming from his nose makes it difficult to close his nostrils, and I can feel a surge of adrenaline pumping through him, legs and arms pulling and kicking furiously. A foot flies out and hits Ryan square in the chest, knocking him to the floor, while Riaz looks frozen, unable to move. I realize I need to get more purchase. I walk my feet up high on the van’s side and onto the roof, the metal panels bulging with the pressure I’m exerting. There’s no more air coming out of his mouth. The zip-ties are so tight they’ve cut through the skin of his neck, taking his beard with them. I put everything into maintaining my grip. I don’t know how much longer I can keep it up.

  ‘Die,’ I hiss into his ear as my head is forced into his. Letting go of his face, I grab his hands and force them down so he can’t make contact with his final thrashings. Pushing onto my toes, further increasing the leverage, I apply more pressure on top of him. Then, thank God, the twitching starts, signalling he’s near the end. His body, desperate for oxygen, goes into one final convulsion.

  ‘Fucking die.’ I wrench myself away and his eyes – red with burst capillaries and almost coming out of their sockets – tell me it’s done. The smell of urine and shit mingles with the sour smell of fear and fills the van.

  I walk my feet down from the roof and take a few moments to get my breath back. Riaz and Ryan are staring at me in horror and I feel a surge of anger. I’m the one who killed him, but they’re just as responsible. We all are. What did they think we were getting in to? ‘Come on, grab his feet, let’s stick him in this corner.’ Looking pale, they do as I tell them. I grab the ankle tag, still wrapped in the signal-blocking blanket. ‘If we pass some deep water we can ditch this, away from cameras, yeah?’

  Alex isn’t responding. I don’t think she knew I was capable of this. I wasn’t sure I was. But what did I have to lose anymore? This fucker deserved it. I’m going after everyone who tries to hurt people in this country. I couldn’t protect my family, but that gave birth to something inside me. A darkness that has consumed me and will be used to destroy fuckers like this.