The Terminate Code: A gripping, page-turning, action adventure revenge thriller, with a fast pace, and a terrifying twist in its tail ! (Hedge & Cole Book 2)

by Kevin Bradley

  The pilot’s voice came through to Ray’s headset. ‘We’ve arrived, give or take.’

  ‘Thanks Jim. We’ll prepare for disembarkation.’

  Ray smiled, and moved his head closer to Deniz. ‘We’re here. We just need to do a couple of things before you get out.’

  Ray nodded at his colleague sitting immediately opposite him. The man stood, moved forward and grabbed hold of a metal bracelet on the floor just under where Deniz was sitting. He clipped it around the Turks left ankle.

  Deniz was slow to react, he tried to pull his leg away but it was too late, a short chain had been attached to his foot.

  Alarmed, he turned to Ray. ‘What is happening? Have we arrived? Are we in near London yet?

  ‘Nowhere near London, I’m afraid,’ replied Ray. The smile had gone. ‘We are about twenty metres above the surface of the sea, and around two hundred miles off the south coast of England. This is where you get out.’

  One of Ray’s team had opened the door of the Panther. The noise of the rotor increased massively, and the cold air of the North Atlantic rushed inside the aircraft, chilling all the occupants to the bone.

  Another X-team man was pulling the chain attached to Deniz’s leg. The other end of the chain was buried inside a small concrete block, about twelve inches square. It was heavy, and it grated on the metal floor as it was dragged closer to the exit door. The concrete block was roughly made, and it left deep scratches on the floor of the aircraft. That didn’t matter too much - they blended in with the many other old scratches that were already there.

  Deniz was thrashing his arms about wildly. He was suddenly aware of his dire circumstances and panic had overtaken him. He tried desperately to reach across and grab hold of Ray, but all he saw was a small yellow device being pointed at him. For the second time in three days, Deniz felt the horror of thousands of volts pumping through his body. It left him completely debilitated and numb. He tried to grab hold of the seat he was sitting on, but his arms didn’t respond. He attempted to push himself up from the floor, but his legs were like jelly.

  He was being pulled closer to the open doorway, and there was nothing he could do about it. The wind from outside was biting against his back, and then he was in the doorway. The last thing he saw was Ray waving at him. It looked like a goodbye wave.

  Deniz tried to shout. ‘I want to see my lawyer.’ No words came out of his mouth. Even if they had, they would have been drowned out by the wind and the loud splash as the concrete block hit the surface of the water.

  This block was closely followed by Deniz. His head was spinning as he landed amongst the waves. The noise of the Panther’s rotors disappeared suddenly. In their place came a coldness the like of which he could not have imagined. His whole body was enveloped in an icy blackness. The concrete weight pulled him under. He tried to swim upwards with his arms, but the taser effect was still with him. None of his muscles would respond. Deeper and deeper he went. His ears popped, to be replaced by a terrible piercing pain. He needed air, but instead just sucked in mouthfuls of icy, cold water.

  The last things he ever remembered were the cold, the pain, the black, the pressure, the pain, the cold, and finally, the black.

  Back on the Panther, Ray was busy chomping on a large cheese roll.

  In between bites, he looked across at his colleagues. ‘Did you know that the meaning of the Turkish name “Deniz” translates into “The Sea”?

  ‘Very appropriate,’ said one of the men.

  ‘Yes, I thought so too,’ Ray replied. ‘Let’s go home shall we?’

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Hedge looked out of the window as the British Airways A380 took off from Heathrow airport. The aircraft eventually levelled off at around thirty thousand feet, and the captain made his standard announcement over the loudspeaker system.

  Hedge couldn’t help wondering, as he did every time he took a trip by plane, why it was that the world had made incredible leaps forward in digital sound technology over recent years, but that had not found its way into aircraft loudspeaker systems. The voice booming out to the passengers was muffled and distorted. Even people with the best of hearing were only likely to catch two out of every three words.

  ‘I would like … you aboard … A380 … to Cape Town … Africa,’ the voice boomed out. ‘… today will be … hours and twenty minutes … enjoy the flight.’

  ‘Great,’ said Hedge. ‘The only thing I actually wanted to know is how long I have to sit here in this seat, and I missed it.’

  ‘Ten hours. Get your ears washed out.’ said Cole. He was still not quite himself. Hardly surprising considering that his wife had been missing now for nearly three weeks.

  Hedge was agitated.

  Ever since he had received that unexpected phone call from Cole, events had been moving too fast. It had started with the trip to Cole’s house in Suffolk. Then, along with his sister, the three of them had flown off to Cyprus. And now he was sitting on a plane heading for South Africa.

  ‘Remind me again how it is that I am going with you on this trip?’ Hedge was genuinely not clear on how he had got himself caught up in this.

  ‘I have told you most of it already. I’ll give you the full story, then,’ Cole replied. ‘Remember Docherty?’

  ‘Yes, the guy with the dark glasses,’ Hedge scoffed.

  Cole sighed. ‘Well he has recently briefed me on some detailed information they had extracted from someone. The person who gave up this information had been working closely with a man known as Solomon.’

  His face hardened, and he paused for a moment. He spoke quietly as he told Hedge about the incident with agent Oxley, and how it had ended so horribly for his old comrade.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said Hedge. ‘That’s really awful for the poor guy. At least his family were unharmed. I assume then that this Solomon guy didn’t issue the Terminate Code? Surely the guy in Oxley’s house wouldn’t have killed his children, even if he had received the Code?’

  Cole turned and looked at Hedge.

  ‘Well, he was questioned under heavy interrogation, and he says that he would have done. That’s what he does. That’s what he was paid to do.’

  ‘What exactly is heavy interrogation? I didn’t think the British government did such things.’

  ‘Of course they don’t,’ replied Cole. He tried to look sincere.

  ‘So, who is Solomon?’

  ‘Well, as it seems he would do just about anything to find my address, MI5 have now assumed that he is behind the kidnapping of my wife.’

  ‘Do you have any idea why?’

  ‘I don’t. MI5 doesn’t. Nobody does.’

  Cole sat quietly for a while, lost in his own thoughts.

  Hedge was feeling anxious. He still wasn’t sure why they were heading to Cape Town, or what may lie in wait for them there. He’d been caught up in situations like this with Cole in the past. They didn’t always end well. He pulled the various safety, shopping, and information booklets out of the pouch in front of him. He arranged them in order, smallest at the front, and then replaced them. They looked considerably tidier. He breathed a little easier.

  ‘So why are we heading to South Africa?’ Hedge said eventually.

  ‘Docherty suggested it. He has been asking around the intelligence community in London. He was owed a few favours by various people, it seems. He had been given a tip off from an old associate of his who works for Turkish intelligence, based in Ankara. It seems they know a bit about this Solomon guy. One of the things they mentioned was that he has been desperate to find a certain Greek man named Spiro. We don’t know why, but find Spiro, and you may find Solomon, maybe.’

  ‘So what do you know about this man Spiro?’

  Cole continued. ‘It seems he fled from his home in Cyprus several years ago. No one has any idea why. He set himself up in business in Cape Town. He needed to start a new life. Seems he wanted to leave the past behind.’

  ‘Did he know Solomon was looking for him?’ H
edge was trying to keep up, but it was getting complicated.

  ‘Either he’s completely stupid or he didn’t believe anyone was looking for him,’ replied Cole.

  ‘Why so?’

  ‘Well, guess what he has called his Greek restaurant?’

  Hedge looked puzzled. ‘How should I know? Is it The Kebab House?’

  ‘No. It’s called Spiro’s!’ Cole laughed.

  Hedge said nothing. Just shook his head.

  ‘We need to be careful though. Our friends in Ankara said that Spiro was a dangerous man in the past. We must be able to protect ourselves.’

  ‘So is Solomon likely to be in South Africa?’

  Cole shrugged his shoulders. ‘We’re not sure, maybe, maybe not. Docherty thinks I should go and investigate anyway. It’s probably his way of keeping me out of the way. It’s better than doing nothing though, isn’t it?’

  Hedge remained silent. Personally he thought doing nothing sounded like a good idea. Let the police and security services get on with finding the kidnappers. He would be quite happy to be back in London. He was missing his sister quite a bit and his girlfriend quite a lot. He and Tania had become close in recent weeks, but he still hadn’t slept with her. He was desperate to, and dreamt about it a lot.

  If only he wasn’t on his way to South Africa. His thought’s came back to the present with a jolt. What exactly did Cole mean about being able to protect ourselves? What the hell as he got me into this time, he thought to himself.

  Hedge was shaking his head. His anxiety level had moved up a notch. He pulled the booklets out of the pouch in front of him again, and rearranged them once more.

  It didn’t help.

  They both remained quiet for a few minutes.

  ‘So they guy they interrogated, the one who was at your house, with your family.’ Something was troubling Hedge. ‘What happens to him now? I just hope that he has been locked away for a considerable time.’

  ‘Trust me, he has been sent somewhere where he can do no further harm,’ replied Cole, ‘and when I catch up with this Solomon guy, it may get quite unpleasant for him also.’

  Hedge swallowed hard. He pushed himself further down into his seat, trying not to think about what his friend had just said. He closed his eyes and eventually drifted off to sleep.

  While he slept, his mind took him back to a time when things were much simpler. He had attended an expensive boarding school, paid for by his uncle. He had been happy to go there as they had great sports facilities. The studying was hard, but the environment of the school and its vast grounds was pleasant.

  All was good at the school, apart from the bullying. He knew he was an anxious person, and had some serious phobias. Milk, for one thing. He had a serious dislike of it. A senior boy had made him drink several pints of cold milk one morning, and then locked him in a cupboard. He had been so desperate for a piss that he felt sure his bladder was literally close to bursting. He had eventually been let out, and rushed to relieve himself, but the scars had not healed. Milk made him hyper anxious.

  He jumped in his chair slightly.

  Cole looked at him, but left him be as he was fast asleep. ‘He’s a strange one, this Hedge,’ Cole thought to himself. ‘He’s so full of fear and a bag of nerves, but the courage of a gladiator. What a conundrum he was.’

  Hedge was still sleeping. He was about to relive a horrible memory from his past. He often found himself being tortured with such flashbacks. They felt so real to him, even though the experiences occurred many years ago.

  But as he dreamt, it seemed like only yesterday.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Prem was bored.

  It was a Sunday afternoon, and he couldn’t think of anything to do. He retrieved his favourite toy from the bottom of his wardrobe and wrapped it in a dirty towel. Well he couldn’t be seen walking around outside with that, could he.

  He walked down the corridor to see if any of his fellow seniors were interested in going out to find some sport. He knocked on a door at the end of the hallway. It was the last room before the staircase. No one answered his knock, so he simply walked in anyway. Inside the room were two single beds and two work desks. There was no sign of Watkins, which was who he was hoping to find, but his room-mate Speccy Johnson was sitting at his desk with his face about four inches away from a large text book.

  ‘Hey Speccy, where’s Watkins?’

  Johnson looked up from his book. He didn’t like Prem very much. He was well aware that he was a bully, but worse than that, he always mocked Johnson when he started talking about Shakespeare - his favourite writer.

  ‘You’re a philistine, and a moron,’ Johnson has said to Prem on one occasion. He hadn’t said it since though, as Prem had punched him in the face immediately after he had blurted it out.

  ‘Well, where is he, you prick?’ said Prem.

  ‘I’m not sure. He’s probably out the back playing football. That’s a game played by two teams with a round leather or plastic object, don’t you know.’

  Johnson enjoyed the moment as his attempt at a sarcastic comment sunk in. It didn’t last long though, as Prem picked up a drinking glass off a small table near the door, and hurled it towards Johnson. It hit the wall above his head and smashed into a multitude of small pieces.

  ‘Wanker,’ said Prem and slammed the door shut as he left.

  Prem found Watkins lying outside on the back lawn. He was reading a book called ‘Sex on the Road.’

  ‘It’s about the exploits of a rock band on tour,’ he explained enthusiastically.

  Prem grabbed the book off him, tore it in half and threw it over the hedge into the housemasters back garden.

  ‘Hey, what the fuck …’ shouted Watkins.

  ‘Forget it. I’ve got better things for us to do. Look what I’ve brought out to play with.’ Prem showed him what he had wrapped in the towel. It was the piece of wood with a nail in the end - the ‘new weapon’ that he had invented.

  ‘Oh my god, that’s really crap,’ said Watkins. ‘I thought you had something fun to do.’

  Prem suddenly developed a devious smile on his face. ‘Now you’ve given me a great idea. Come on, follow me.’

  They walked off together down towards the sports field. As they approached a small wooded area, they spotted a group of junior boys kicking a tennis ball around.

  ‘You boys, come here,’ shouted Prem.

  There were five of the younger boys, and they approached the two seniors cautiously. Prem recognised one of the lads as Hedge. He had given this particular junior boy a hard time in the past.

  The younger boys had gathered round Prem. They all had concerned looks on their faces. Hedge stood near the back of the group. He was very wary of this particular senior boy.

  ‘Now, I want you to do something for me.’ Prem said in a serious manner. ‘The housemaster often walks his dog in these woods here, and he has asked me to come down and clean up some of the mess that his dog has made.’

  Actually, Prem hadn’t entirely made up this story. The housemaster had threatened to give this task out as a punishment the next time he heard of any senior boys excessively bullying the younger students.

  Prem handed the nearest boy a small, plastic bag.

  ‘So, you’ve got fifteen minutes to scour the woods here and see if you can find some dog shit. Bring it back in this. I’ll be waiting here. Fifteen minutes.’

  The boys looked a bit uncomfortable with the task they had been set, but hurried off into the woods anyway.

  ‘What the hell are you up to now,’ said Watkins nervously.

  ‘You may believe it or not, but I went to a really interesting history lesson last week. It was all about the hundred year’s war, between England and France. I didn’t quite get what the conflict was all about, probably to do with us laughing at their stupid accents. But, I did learn all about English archers.’ Prem stood with his feet wide apart and mimicked the action of someone pulling on a bow.

  ‘What about
archers?’

  ‘Well, for instance, did you know that it was compulsory for all able bodied men to practice archery? The King of England made it a law at that time. Also, the English longbow was the most feared weapon on the battlefield. It could cut down attackers of any kind, including cavalry. The French hated the English archers. If an archer got himself captured, he would have his middle fingers cut off by the Frenchies.’

  ‘Could be worse things to have cut off,’ laughed Watkins.

  Prem ignored him. ‘But, best of all I learned about shit.’

  ‘Shit?’ Johnson screwed up his face.

  ‘Yes, shit. Apparently, the English archers had to be in their fighting positions well before daybreak, and would have to stay there all day. So, when they needed to have a dump, they did it where they stood. This was actually quite useful, as they would take their arrows out of their quivers, and stick them in the ground. They could then pull them out of the soil and fire them at the French. Even better, they would stick their arrows in the piles of shit. That way, when they fired them off, if they only ended up wounding an enemy soldier, the chances are they would eventually die from catching a nasty infection.’

  ‘That’s revolting,’ said Johnson.

  ‘But highly effective,’ said Prem, still very enthusiastic.

  He stopped talking as the junior boys were running back towards them from the direction of the woods. One of the lads was holding the plastic bag with an outstretched arm. He stopped just in front of the two seniors.

  ‘Tip it out down here.’

  Prem pointed at the ground in front of him. He had removed his piece of wood from the towel and was using it as a pointer.

  Several lumps of smelly, brown matter lay piled on the grass. Prem turned the wood so that the nail was pointing downwards. He then pushed the nail deep into the brown pile and turned the wood slowly so that there was a good coating of shit all over the nail and the end of the piece of wood.

  Prem turned to look at the juniors. Several of them had faces scrunched up in disgust. ‘Now, who wants a nasty infection,’ he said and lifted the stick high above his head.