by Tim Jopling
Chosen Weapon: .357 semi-automatic
Personal: Single
Name: Luke Wilson
Age: 33
Status: INACTIVE
Expertise / Strengths: Sniper, rifle expert, reconnaissance, can-do attitude, qualified RAF Pilot.
Fighting Style: Krav Maga
Chosen Weapon: Heckler and Koch Mark 23 s-automatic
Personal: Single
Name: David Ballard
Age: 42
Status: INACTIVE
Expertise / Strengths: Experience, voice of reason, iron determination, C.S.I. Investigator
Fighting Style: Akido
Chosen Weapon: Heckler & Koch USP semi-automatic
Personal: Married
Team Members: BRAVO (All members Advanced SAS trained)
Name: Alex Jordan (Team Leader)
Age: 43
Status: INACTIVE
Expertise / Strengths: Leadership, bravery, technical expert, systems analysis
Fighting Style: Wing Chun
Chosen Weapon: Glock .45 semi-automatic
Personal: Single
Name: Nigel Gibbs (Deputy)
Age: 36
Status: INACTIVE
Expertise / Strengths: Specialist weapon expert, controlled temperament
Fighting Style: San Shou
Chosen Weapon: Heckler and Koch USP Semi-Automatic
Personal: Married
Name: Roger Carston
Age: 46
Status: DECEASED 03/2012
Expertise / Strengths: Sniper, specialist weapon skills, reconnaissance expert
Fighting Style: Judo
Chosen Weapon: Glock .380 semi-automatic
Personal: Single
Name: Gus Feur
Age: 31
Status: DECEASED 03/2012
Expertise / Strengths: Fluent in multiple languages, communications expert
Fighting Style: Pankration
Chosen Weapon: Browning HP 9 mm semi-automatic
Personal: Single
Name: Andrew Myers
Age: 32
Status: DECEASED 03/2012
Expertise / Strengths: Technical expert, foreign computer systems, qualified RAF Pilot
Fighting Style: Jujitsu
Chosen Weapon: Browning Pro 9 mm semi-automatic
Personal: Married
Team Members: CHARLIE (All members Advanced SAS trained)
Name: Paul Wheeler (Team Leader)
Age: 51
Status: INACTIVE (INJURED)
Expertise / Strengths: Over 25 years of experience, will go extra mile, stealth and tactical
Fighting Style: Savate, Glima
Chosen Weapon: Browning HP 9 mm MK3S s-automatic
Personal: Single
Name: Jason Miller
Age: 36
Status: INACTIVE
Expertise / Strengths: Confidence, careful precision and stable attitude
Fighting Style: Kyokushin Karate
Chosen Weapon: Glock .40 s-automatic
Personal: Single
Name: Don Sampson
Age: 38
Status: INACTIVE
Expertise / Strengths: Level headed, experienced history, fluent in 5 languages
Fighting Style: Taekkyon, Sambo
Chosen Weapon: Heckler & Koch USP Elite semi-automatic
Personal: Single
Chapter 3
Tuesday, July 24th 23:00,
Sam Olsen’s home, Kensington, London.
Olsen rushed up the staircase of his three-bedroom home in Kensington. He was wearing grey jeans, a light blue shirt and had his brown hair in a short crop. In his hands were several empty boxes that would pack up their belongings. Olsen and his wife Rachel were moving to Bordon, in Hampshire, to be with the latter’s sister. Over the past few months, the former Government agent had slowly adapted to a normal life and was looking forward to a fresh start miles away from MI6 and London. Carter and Deane had been the only former colleagues he had kept in touch with but since leaving MI6, Olsen had never gone near the building or even the local area.
Pausing at the top of the staircase, he saw his wife further down the corridor sorting out what to keep. The move was going well but they had both left the packing to the last minute and it looked like it was going to be a long night with the removal van coming tomorrow. Olsen slowly crept up behind and gave her a hug and a kiss, something he did frequently. ‘Where do you want these boxes, babe?’
Rachel pushed her long dark brown hair back and smiled at her husband with joy. She was wearing a figure hugging pair of jeans and a revealing buttoned purple top. ‘I don’t want them, you’re going to fill them with these!’ She said playfully, indicating the ornaments on the table.
Olsen faked a sigh and started to pack them into the nearest box. He picked up and studied a small china dove with a crack in the middle. ‘Do we really need to keep this one?’
Rachel was walking away but turned around and looked at the ornament from a distance. ‘That was a gift from my Mum years ago. Keep it!’ She studied her husband for a moment and felt that inner peace inside her again. The kind of peace and tranquillity she’d always yearned for and that had been a constant companion of late. Her relationship with Olsen had gone from strength to strength and she adored him more than ever. Just as important was the fact that he wasn’t a Government Agent anymore. That alone had taken away that daily fear that her husband would be taken before his time. Life was almost perfect and she would do anything to keep it that way.
Olsen carefully wrapped the china dove and placed it in the box along with the other ornaments. He sealed it up and rushed downstairs to his blue Range Rover that was parked in the drive. He gave a fleeting glance to the quiet street and began studying parked cars but stopped himself and laughed. Despite being inactive for months, he’d found it hard to break old habits.
Tomas Bognor flicked the lever for the windscreen wipers and watched them wipe away the rain on the glass. Within seconds, it was covered once again. He set them to the fastest setting and watched Olsen rush back inside the house they had been studying. One of Bognor’s huge hands reached for the glove box and found a folder containing pictures and Government papers. He studied a photo for a moment before he spoke to his partner, next to him, in a grim tone. ‘That is him. Olsen. Ready?’ Bognor got out of the car and studied every inch of the street. In the hour he had been waiting, only four cars had passed by, the area appeared to be deserted. The heavy rain was a distinct advantage. Bognor pulled out a pistol and covered his face with a balaclava. His partner, who was much smaller, did the same but armed himself with a compact machine gun. They both left the car and sprinted towards the target house as the rain continued to fall.
Olsen got to the top of the stairs and saw the ladder was down that would lead to the attic. ‘Rach?’ He shouted. ‘What you doing up there? It’s all just junk!’ He had already decided to leave the contents of the attic for the new owners.
Rachel appeared at the top of the ladder with a smile on her face. ‘I know you, Sam! We’re not leaving all this rubbish for the new owners.’ She saw her husband begin to protest. ‘We’re not!’
Olsen’s 6’ 4” frame climbed up the ladder and joined his wife in front of another half a dozen boxes. Moving house really is the most stressful thing you can ever do, he told himself. ‘More boxes?’ He moaned. ‘Or more junk?’
Rachel locked her hands around her husband’s waist and moved closer. Who said moving day was the most stressful of times? At that moment, it couldn’t be easier. She looked into his eyes and felt so much joy to feel so together, so in love and so happy. Ever since all the pain and stress of the inquiry things had almost instantly started to improve and the world she had known was gone without a trace. With it came freedom from the worry and terror and the chance to embrace life and actually enjoy it.
‘Maybe it can wait for a while’ She grinned. ‘Can’t it?’ She began to undo the buttons on he
r husband’s shirt.
A smile came to Olsen’s lips and he stroked his wife’s hair and then started to unbutton her purple top. ‘You’re sure we have time? The removal van is coming in the morning.’
‘We always have time…they will just have to wait.’ She threw the shirt down, put her hands on his chest and moved them across to his strong and powerful arms. Just the touch of his skin started to send her to another world.
Olsen kissed his wife softly and felt her playful tongue as he removed her top and ran his hands down her waist. ‘I love you, Rach.’ He whispered and then kissed her again, this time more passionately.
‘I love you too. Why don’t we go to the-’ She stopped abruptly and looked around sharply, her eyes wide with fear as a shockwave hit the house. The tremor could be felt everywhere. ‘What was that?’ She asked, in a state of panic. ‘Did you hear that n-’
Olsen raised a hand and gave her a small shake, in need of silence. His mind analysed the possibilities, feeling certain he had felt the house shake under the strain. An attack on our house? The very idea sounded absurd but old instincts reminded him to be careful. He pulled his wife closer and whispered to her softly and calmly. ‘Rach, stay right here. I’ll go and take a look.’ He looked deadly serious and repeated himself with meaning. ‘Don’t move, ok?’
Moving as quietly as he could, Olsen came down from the attic to a position that was close to the top of the stairs. Straight away, the hairs on the back of his neck shot up as two sets of footsteps could be heard running through the rooms below. Olsen’s eyes widened with disbelief and he listened again, convinced he was imagining things. He peered over the edge of the staircase to see what was going on below but jumped back immediately at the image of two masked men, armed with guns. Before he could think, a deafening noise boomed through the staircase. Gunfire! Olsen’s mind was frantic and he rolled into the nearest bedroom as a barrage of bullets sprayed the wall just in front of him. His heart was racing, images flashing by at breakneck speed in his mind. My house…I’m under attack in my house! One name exploded into his mind and silenced everything. Rachel!
In a darkened office of MI6 headquarters, Burton watched the shredder cut its way through some more of his personal files. It would not be long now until he would leave the office for the last time. Several certificates were taken down from the wall and that alone caused him to feel a surge of guilt. No matter how hard he tried Burton couldn’t stop his mind and his heart from reminiscing on his career and the choices he had made. His recent decisions over the last year were dominating his mind and his conscience in particular. He glanced at one certificate and remembered ten years before when he had been well ahead of the other talented agents at MI6. How proud he had felt to be offered the best team in the service. His team. Straight away, the faces of all the S.U.C.O. members took hold of his thoughts. Even the wives of some of the team members he had met appeared. Burton had to stop himself from being sick there and then. He waddled over to the nearest bin and knelt down on the floor, gagging.
‘Are you ok sir?’ Asked Dawn, as she came in to investigate the noise.
Burton looked up and composed himself. ‘I’m ok Dawn, really. Must have been that turkey sandwich for breakfast.’ He managed a cheeky smile. ‘Don’t go to the staff canteen, eh?’
Dawn still had a concerned look on her face. ‘If you need anything sir, I’m just outside. What with the attack, it’s been a terrible day for all of us.’ She closed the door and went back to her desk.
The attack. Drake and the others had all been killed. Burton leaned against his desk and closed his eyes. Who have I become? What the hell have I been doing? I’m a murderer! What would Oscar say, or Kate for that matter, if they only knew? The S.U.C.O. members came back into his mind, in particular the ones that had died in Poland because of his actions. Burton, despite selling out his team for his own selfish greed, prayed to god they would prove themselves to be the best and survive the attacks. If only to ease my guilty conscience!
Tossing the bin back onto the floor, Burton began to get his things together. His heart was in control now and he couldn’t deny, even to himself, that he had sold out many people and deserved to be locked up and thrown to the wolves. Burton couldn’t reason with his decisions any longer, couldn’t find any more excuses and knew he should turn himself in. If it weren’t for his family, he would do just that but one thing that would never change was the unquestionable knowledge that his family needed him to find them. I’ve got to get back to them; I have to be with them now!
Olsen kicked himself into gear as his eyes danced around, desperately trying to find something, anything, he could use as a weapon. His mind acted quickly and saw the stacked items at the top of the stairs. As the footsteps creaked on the lower stairs, Olsen rushed over, kicked the bottom box and saw the stack tumble down. A voice shouted below as the intruder’s path was momentarily blocked.
Back in the bedroom, Olsen frantically looked around and reached for his Samsung Galaxy S3 mobile phone that he had kept since leaving the agency. A look of despair came over his features as he saw ‘LOW BATT’ flash on the green display and then fade away. Putting it away, he sat still and listened intently.
Silence spread through the house.
The gunfire had stopped.
Another sound could be heard, one that may have been a phone ringing. Olsen calmed himself and thought about his next move. He had no weapon in the house, no obvious exits and was most probably out numbered. His thoughts turned back to his wife who was still in the attic. He peered around the corner of the bedroom wall and saw the ladder was still down, looking almost like an invitation. For the first time, he realised his heart was beating out of control and his hands were shaking. I’m really out of touch! He gave himself a shake and tried to regain control as he peered around the wall again. A lamp, stacked on top of several other items caught his eye. He yanked the cable from the socket but jumped at the sound of china being broken underfoot. They’re on the staircase!
The smaller attacker reached the top stair and paused, crouching down in a ready position with his machine gun out in front of him. There was silence all around. The photograph of the former Government agent continued to occupy his thoughts. He was ready to fire his weapon at the first sight of him. The house was almost empty and he knew there were not many opportunities to hide. In front of him were two rooms to the left. A bedroom to the right could be seen with the bathroom further along on that side. The attic ladder was also down.
The attacker decided to check the attic first, knowing that time was of the essence. He looked beside him and saw his partner move down the corridor to check the bedrooms at the far end.
Olsen watched from the nearby bedroom, saw the attacker dressed all in black and identified the Heckler and Koch compact submachine gun in his hands. Olsen gritted his teeth and realised how serious these men were about killing him and his wife. His resolve intensified as Olsen cleared away the questions in his mind as to why him and his wife were under attack and tugged hard at the cable in his hands. Whatever happens, I’m going to get Rach out of here. I’ll make it happen. He looked up, saw the attacker on the first rung of the ladder and crawled out of the bedroom quickly, desperately trying not to make any sound.
The attacker stepped onto the ladder’s second rung and looked up at the attic above him. A light was on but he could hear no sounds or indications that someone was waiting for him. He gripped the machine gun hard and felt his trigger finger jump as he waited to fire.
Olsen came to the bottom of the ladder and looked up to see the intruder slowly making his way to the attic. As each second passed, memories and skills that had been locked away for the past few months were now being primed and activated once more. Sheer anger and hatred flowed through Olsen. The sheer arrogance of breaking into his home and threatening his wife was enough to send his temper boiling over to dangerous levels. In a flash, he got to his feet, jumped up to the third rung and wrapped the cable around th
e intruder’s neck.
Random bullets fired out of the machine gun and eventually the weapon was dropped as the intruder, much smaller than Olsen in size, grabbed the cable at his neck and tried to break free.
Olsen, not about to give in, pulled violently on the cable and could feel the air being sucked out of the body before of him. Seething now, he focussed on dishing out his own brand of revenge on those that dared enter his home. Despite his anger, he was well aware of footsteps ahead and saw the second attacker appear at the end of the corridor. Olsen jumped down from the ladder and at the same time heard the crack of the smaller man’s neck give way. Tossing the body away, he crouched low as bullets rained in all around him, sparking off the stainless steel ladder that gave him vital cover.
Bognor continued firing and saw Olsen hiding behind the ladder. He got to his feet and started running, knowing just one well placed shot would finish the job and leave the woman above vulnerable to the inevitable.
Olsen flinched as one bullet flew past him. He made a daring lunge for the pistol on the dead terrorist’s belt. He made it! Straight away, he returned fire and forced the target to dart into the second bedroom. Olsen used the time to his advantage and snapped the ladder back up towards the attic.
Rachel Olsen slowly moved her head over the attic entrance and saw her husband at the bedroom door below, holding a gun. The very sight him with a weapon of any kind frightened her. The past few months had easily been the best time of her life and she so wanted it to continue that way. Rachel tried to catch her husband’s eye but failed to do so as she watched him move to the top of the staircase. Her hands covered her face as she moved back from the edge. Rachel’s mind was moving at a frantic pace, consumed with fear that today would be the day her husband would be taken from her for good.
Olsen continued firing as he made his way to the top of the staircase. Panic set in though, as the pistol clicked repeatedly. The clip is empty! A flurry of bullets ricocheted off the banisters! The noise was deafening as he threw himself down the stairs, colliding with the wall, and smashing straight through the remains of the boxes at the bottom. Olsen forced himself to come around and heard the distinctive sound of footsteps from above. He pulled himself to his feet, doing his best to ignore his bleeding right leg.