Soft Target 02 - Tank

by Conrad Jones

  “He is firing from a protected position,” Faz guessed. There was no way anyone could still be functional if they were caught in the open when the thunder-flashes exploded. She broke cover and sprinted across the kitchen area. She stopped by the metal door to the walk-in fridge and opened it so that it acted as a barrier. The chilled body of the young skinhead Pinn had killed earlier lay glassy eyed on the floor. His upper teeth were exposed in a macabre grin, which gave him a zombie like appearance. The exposed tongue, which lolled to one side, was already starting to blacken.

  “Kitchen area clear, one man down in the cold room, gunshot wounds to the face,” she reported.

  “Can you see their current position Grace?” Tank asked. Faz looked through the hinged edge of the doorframe and she could see the snub nosed barrel of an Uzi 9mm machinegun leaning against the tiled floor at the bottom of an open door.

  “I can see their position. It looks like they are at the top of a flight of stairs, which descend into a lower level. I’m going to bounce a grenade off the wall in front of him and try to deflect it down the stairs behind him,” Faz said twisting the cap of another concussion grenade. She tossed it across the wash-up area aiming just below the ceiling. The cylinder struck the white tiles and bounced across the room toward the open doorway. Grace heard the sound of footsteps running down the stairs and the clatter of the grenade striking the tiled floor of the cellar. There was an ear splitting explosion and a blinding flash followed by the sound of metal beer barrels clanging across the floor. Tank and his agents passed Faz’s position and moved with military precision to the top of the cellar stairs. The cellar ceiling obscured the view of the lower level and there was only a small area around the bottom of the steps visible. Tank gestured to one of his agents and he removed a thin carbon fibre rod from his utility belt. He twisted the rod and a rectangular mirror fanned out from the end. He then extended the rod to its full length and scanned the cellar area with it.

  “One man down in the centre of the floor space, looks to be incapacitated, Uzi 9mm machinegun in close proximity to his right hand side,” said the officer. Tank waved his team down the stairs where they secured the small cellar and covered the ventilation shaft entrance. The man on the floor unconscious was Organised Crime Unit officer Simon Pinn, although they wouldn’t know that until he regained consciousness. The effects of the concussion grenade were amplified tenfold in the confined concrete area of the cellar, rendering Pinn senseless. There was a small trickle of blood running from his left ear indicating some internal damage. He was trussed up with plasticuffs and dragged up the stairs to a waiting prison van, which would be taking him directly to the Terrorist Task Force custody suite.

  “Major, can you check the scanners for body heat? We only have one man in here,” Tank asked over the communication channel.

  “It appears they moved to the rear of the building seconds before you breached the building,” the Major replied, “they’re off the radar now so we can only assume they are in the tunnel network. There is too much water and concrete above them for the scanners to work. They can only be minutes ahead of you.”

  “Is there any indication which way they have taken?” Tank asked entering the access tunnel. He paused as it joined the main ventilation shaft and scanned the tunnel in both directions.

  “Negative Tank,” replied the Major.

  Tank returned to the cellar and organised the Task Force into two groups. One group was to follow Chen and head west, further under the River Mersey; the second group was to follow Tank and Faz east, heading away from the river toward the tunnel entrance. The entrance was situated a half a mile away in a purpose built service building. The building housed huge ventilation fans that removed exhaust fumes from the traffic tunnels. Both units entered the tunnel and prepared to follow the Brigade men. Faz noticed that the thick layer of dust coating an emergency cupboard was disturbed, and fresh finger marks were clearly visible. She nudged Tank and he covered the door with his Glock while Faz flung the door wide open. Apart from two rusty fire extinguishers and a fire blanket the cupboard was empty.

  “Are you going to shoot the naughty fire extinguisher?” Tank teased.

  Faz punched him on the arm and shut the cupboard door. Simon Pinn’s hidden money was still safe for now.

  Chapter 27

  Yuri / Yusuf

  Yusuf waited half an hour after he had heard the gunshot coming from the Russian’s cell. He knew what type of man Yuri was, and he knew that he had taken his own life with a single bullet. Despite one being Jewish and the other Muslim, they had a lot in common. Both were warriors of the highest degree. Their masters were essentially the same entity despite their cultural differences; they were powerful men who used violence to protect their empires. They paid the best wages to recruit the elite ex-military personnel for their private armies. Yusuf opened the door and ushered three guards into the cell. They picked up and removed two fellow Saudi guards, one was dead the other seriously injured but still breathing. Yuri was in a sitting position on the small cot bed. His chin was resting on his chest and the top of his head was splattered up the wall in a red slimy fan pattern. Grey globules of brain matter were running very slowly down the paintwork. Yusuf ordered a black plastic body bag to be brought from the nurses’ quarters and they placed the big Russian into it. They left the gun in his dead hand and zipped up the fastener. The Saudis placed Yuri’s body into the boot of a black Mercedes SUV. It was scarily similar to the one he was brought to the Saudi embassy in.

  Yuri was seconded to Russia’s elite Counter Terrorist Unit, Spetsgruppa Alpha in 1991. During an attempted coup in late 1991, the Alpha group was led by Major General Viktor Karpukhin. The General had ambitions to storm the Kremlin using Special Forces and to wrestle power from the politicians. His plan was to attack and kill Boris Yeltsin and his leaders. Yuri and his platoon refused point blank to follow the General’s orders, and wiped out a division of rebel Russian paratroopers in the process. The ensuing fire fight lasted three and a half hours during which the Spetsgruppa Alpha killed every member of the rogue unit, without losing a single man themselves. Yuri was interviewed by the Soviet leadership about the plot and its possible connotations. Yuri had estimated that the Spetsgruppa Alpha would have stormed the Kremlin and killed the entire Russian parliament in under twenty-five minutes, had it chosen to follow the General’s orders. As the Russian Empire crumbled Yuri had found employment with the notorious Mafia, the Organizatsiya. Now the once great warrior was being transported in a plastic bag in the trunk of a family saloon.

  Yuri’s body was driven a short distance across London to Paddington police station. They pulled the body from the vehicle and placed it in a covered bus stop. The dumpsite was chosen carefully because it was not covered by CCTV cameras, but was less than two hundred yards from the police station. Yusuf saluted the body bag and placed a leather holdall containing the mobile phone and audiotapes next to the body. As the Mercedes pulled away Yusuf made an anonymous call on a prepaid cell phone informing the police that a man connected to the River Dee bombings was in the bus stop.

  Chapter 28

  Pete Dodge/ Terry Nick

  Pete Dodge sat in a small interview room at the main police station in Warrington. The station was built in Victorian times, which gave the building historic listed building status. The down side was that the cells and interview rooms were prehistoric and stank of urine. Facilities were basic to say the least. The table Dodge was sat at was fixed to the floor with metal brackets to deter angry prisoners from throwing it. He was given a plastic cup containing a warm liquid, which vaguely resembled tea over two hours ago. Since then three different detectives had been to the room to question him briefly but they had all concurred that the information Dodge was giving was beyond the jurisdiction of the Cheshire Police Force.

  The door opened and David Bell entered. Bell was an information analyst from the Terrorist Task Force. The Warrington police had contacted them, and asked them to send
an agent down to interview Dodge. Bell was involved in cracking a terrorist plot to bomb a football match at Anfield in Liverpool the year before. The nefarious terrorist leader Yasser Ahmed had wreaked havoc across American tourist destinations before attempting the same in the UK. David Bell placed two blank cassettes into an archaic recording machine and pressed record.

  “Agent David Bell is present interviewing Peter Dodge at Warrington police station. The date is 8th January 2008, and the time is six pm,” the agent said starting the interview. He had a feeling that this was going to be a waste of time but he had to go through the motions. There was no doubt that two members of the 18th Brigade was present at the River Dee incident, but Pete Dodge had walked into a police station announcing that he knew who was responsible for planting the bomb. The information may be genuine, it may be claptrap, but it couldn’t be ignored.

  “Can you repeat for the tape what you told my colleagues earlier regarding the bomb on the River Dee,” Bell asked with a big sigh trying to give Dodge the impression that he didn’t believe his claims.

  “I was approached by a Russian business man by the name of Alexis to abduct a young girl from a party, which was being held onboard the Princess Dianna, on the River Dee” Dodge began, “It was a straightforward business transaction.”

  “So you personally became involved in a conspiracy to commit kidnap for financial reward,” Bell droned on thinking that Dodge was going to walk into an uncontested kidnap charge.

  “No, I certainly did not. I declined the offer however I think that several of my ex-employees were approached at a later date,” Dodge lied, “I now believe that they were involved in the alleged abduction.”

  “Really Mr Dodge, so you had nothing to do with the organisation or planning?” the Task Force man probed, “can you explain how one of your ex-employees ended up burned to death at the scene of the bombing?”

  “I can only assume that my ex-employees had some kind of disagreement with the Russians or each other,” Dodge shrugged his shoulders and he knew that no one could prove his involvement. The only corroborating evidence was destroyed when the Orford Arms burnt to the ground.

  David Bell grasped what was happening. The 18th Brigade was washing its hands of the incident and offering evidence of who the culprits really were.

  “We think that you were involved and that Jeannie Kellesh was taken to your headquarters,” Bell pressed for a reaction, “we also think you’re responsible for a series of arson attacks the following week.”

  “Prove it Agent Bell, as my business premises were burned down by your officers you’ll find it difficult to support your accusations. Likewise with any alleged arson attacks. I am an honest businessman. I run a door security company, which brings me into contact with all kinds of dishonest characters. I can show you my telephone records, which will demonstrate calls made to me by Alexis Radev. He asked me to abduct a young girl, which I refused to do. The boat was blown up by terrorists and I think we both know who is responsible,” Dodge thumped his clenched fist on the table as he made each point.

  “What is your relationship with Mr Radev?” Bell asked sarcastically.

  “He sometimes provides me with door personnel when we have absenteeism, he is involved in import, export business,” Dodge answered equally sarcastically.

  “He is involved with the import and export of drugs and prostitutes Mr Dodge,” Bell said taking his spectacles off, “let’s not fuck about, he supplies you with drugs to sell inside the venues that your bouncers police. You kidnapped the Saudi girl, and then things went sour with the Russians so you burnt down their brothels.”

  “You have an incredibly vivid imagination Agent Bell. I have come here out of my own sense of public duty and offered valuable information about a horrific crime,” Dodge adopted a hurt expression as he rambled on, “if you’re going to continue making such allegations then I think I’ll leave and come back with a lawyer.”

  “That’s your prerogative Mr Dodge,” said the agent, frustrated at playing games, “why would Alexis Radev want to involve you? Why blow up a riverboat?”

  “I am speculating of course because I refused to be involved in the incident, but I think the whole palaver is a set up,” Dodge thumped the desk again, “they blew up the boat to cover up the abduction and they wanted someone else in the frame. What you really need to do is speak to his boss.”

  “And who would that be Mr Dodge?” said Bell looking over the top rim of his glasses curiously.

  “Roman Kordinski,” Dodge replied very slowly pronouncing each vowel.

  David Bell removed his glasses again and stood up. He walked to the end of the small interview room and leaned against the wall, “Roman Kordinski the oil magnet? Roman Kordinski the premiership football club owner? Roman Kordinski the celebrity businessman?” he asked incredulously.

  “Roman Kordinski the drug baron, the sex slave trafficker, the assassin and all round mafia boss,” Dodge laughed, “that’s the very same man.”

  Chapter 29

  Tunnel/ Chen/ Clarky

  As Clarky and the Brigade men reached the ventilation tunnel the lights in the casino went out. Seconds later there was a deafening crashing noise as the JCB breached the walls.

  “Something isn’t right Dano,” Clarky said grabbing his arm, “did you see the blood in the kitchen? Pinn is fucking us over.”

  “We haven’t got time to mess about Clarky. We need to get out of here. We can sort this out when we get rid of the dibbles,” Dano said, “You take half the lads that way and I’ll take the other half this way. We’ll meet up at the Quarterdeck tomorrow.”

  Clarky shook his head in frustration. He checked that the magazine of his Uzi 9mm was full and then headed off west down the tunnel. Emergency lights were fixed to the wall every hundred yards and he could see them reaching far into the distance until the curvature of the tunnel made them disappear. The tunnel was angled down about twenty degrees as it followed the descent of the traffic tunnels beneath the River Mersey.

  “Glinka, have you got your hammer?” he asked one of the younger skinheads. Glinka always carried a four-pound claw hammer on his belt, which he used at every available opportunity to break things and hurt people.

  “Yes, of course I have,” Glinka answered. A blue tattooed Swastika became visible on his tongue when he spoke.

  “Smash the lights as we pass them, we need to slow the dibbles down,” ordered Clarky.

  Glinka looked pleased with himself as he took the claw hammer and shattered the emergency lights. The group jogged quickly down the slope away from the casino, and it was four minutes before they heard the first concussion grenades exploding in the kitchen area. The noise of the grenades gave Clarky an idea. He stripped the electric wires from the tunnel wall and then separated a thin plastic coated length from the bundle. He placed a fragmentation grenade against the tunnel wall and stuffed it behind a metal conduit. Clarky tied the electric cable across the tunnel and attached it to the activation pin of the grenade. The other end he tied to a metal grill making a tripwire. Glinka waited until Clarky had finished and then he laughed as he smashed the light above it.

  “Great stuff, we’re going to blow them to bits,” Glinka was laughing like a schoolboy as he ran away.

  Clarky had no intentions of blowing up anybody. The grenade he had trip wired was called a sting grenade. It was based on the basic design of a military fragmentation grenade, but instead of being made of shrapnel producing metal, it was made from rubber instead. Two spheres of hard rubber encased an explosive charge, primer and detonator. The interior was filled with hundreds of small hard rubber balls. Anyone close to the device when it detonated was incapacitated by the blunt force of the projectiles, but not fatally injured. The sting in the grenade was provided by an additional payload of CS gas. The tear gas was produced by 120 grams of CS gas, which upon detonation combines with a small pyrotechnic composition that burns to generate an aerosol of CS-laden smoke. It would stop any pursuers
in their tracks. The combination of blunt force trauma and choking gas would slow even the most determined enemy. To the rest of the Brigade men it looked exactly like a normal fragmentation grenade. Neil Clarke, or Clarky, was an MI6 agent working directly for Agent Garden. It was his intelligence gathering that had uncovered the information about the Saudi Princess. Agent Garden had blindsided Major Timms during their earlier video conference call with the defence minister. MI6 was investigating the 18th Brigade and several other Nazi factions linked to the British National Party for years. They had no interest in their minor crime activities but their fascist agendas and political aspirations had to be closely monitored. Right wing political parties would only be tolerated as long as they enjoyed limited success. The skinhead organisations were infiltrated by a myriad of law enforcement agencies. The law enforcement departments rarely shared information with one another, especially when undercover agents were involved.