by Tim Jopling
Deane looked back to Ramsey, still looking shocked at the loss of another friend. The tiredness from the glandular fever never really went away but he could feel it weaken somewhat with the passion inside him boiling up, now more determined than ever to do what was required of him in Russia.
Ramsey sat back down and locked his hands together. ‘There can be no doubt now. If Salenko becomes the next President of Russia, we will be at war and with Russia and its Middle Easter allies at the forefront, it may not be a war we can win. This is a clear threat to the security of the West and I cannot allow it to continue.’ He made direct eye contact with Deane and Ramsey’s voice became hard and cold, as detached as he could manage. ‘I don’t have any choice. I have here an authorisation for Salenko and his close team to be terminated. This was not an easy decision to make and I hope I don’t regret it.
‘This isn’t easy Kevin, I know that to be true but with everything I have heard about Russia and its potential new President, you’re making the right decision. If he is elected there will be drastic change and none of it for the better.’
‘I’m trusting you to make sure it looks like a health failure, I cannot allow this to look like an assassination otherwise he would become a powerful martyr.’
‘I take it all avenues of diplomacy have been exhausted?’ Deane asked carefully.
‘Salenko isn’t talking anymore and has made his position quite clear.’ He looked back at the Operation folder. ‘I don’t care how you do it; I want them all dead.’ His tone was callous as he spat out the words.
Silence lingered between the two men until Ramsey tossed a file in the middle of the desk, which had red lettering on the front. Still he spoke in a cold and detached tone. ‘Operation Purge.’
Deane had never heard Ramsey sound so callous about anything before. In his mind, he knew he could complete the operation and would do so for the good of his beloved United Kingdom. The glandular fever lingered in his thoughts but his arrogance and sheer denial blocked it out as he took the operation folder from the desk.
Ramsey felt the doubts in his mind, never before had he sanctioned an assassination order of such magnitude but deep down he knew it was the right choice. He felt anger at Salenko for forcing his hand and spoke again as he saw Deane look up. ‘Do it. Kill them all.’
Pure fire ran through Olsen’s veins now. Just the thought of how close he came to losing his wife was enough to fuel his temper and though he knew he was going too far, he simply couldn’t stop himself. Slamming his right fist into the back of Bognor, he wrapped the wires around his hostage, having previously stripped the coverings from them, leaving them exposed to an electric current.
Bognor was well aware of what was to come and spoke for the first time, not able to hide the slight anguish in his voice. ‘I want to speak to-’
Olsen jabbed him hard in the left temple and leaned in close, his eyes on fire with rage. ‘You gave up all your rights when you broke into my home! We’re doing this my way.’ He grabbed the larger man by the throat and started to squeeze. ‘You will tell me what I want to know.’
Jordan held the hostage down, admitting to himself that he hadn’t been sure that Olsen would go through with his plan but he was now starting to worry that he wouldn’t be able to control his colleague at all. I’m getting a front row seat right here and I’m starting to wish I wasn’t...
Olsen stripped Bognor to the waist and tied him to the chair whilst connecting the jump leads to the current. He looked back and saw the sweat run down his prisoner’s face. Olsen’s eyes narrowed as he took a step closer. ‘This is your last chance. Tell me who you’re working for and where we can find them and I will just have you deported, nothing more.’
‘I want to see a lawyer! I demand-’
‘We’re done talking.’ Before Bognor could whine anymore, he turned and snapped at Jordan. ‘Do it.’
Jordan had been telling himself it was all an act from Olsen but the ruthless tone told him otherwise and he hesitated.
‘FLICK THE SWTICH! COOK HIM!’ Olsen roared.
Jordan pressed the switch and said nothing.
Bognor felt it straight away against the flesh of his chest and stomach area, where several wires were wrapped around him. The stinging feeling then turned to red-hot pain, together with a burning smell and despite the mind numbing pain; he knew it was a mild setting. He tried to keep his composure throughout.
Olsen moved in front of Jordan and increased the current further. ‘TELL ME!’
The pain was indescribable and Bognor gritted his teeth in denial, as his whole body shook, determined not to give away anything.
Jordan felt he had to say something. ‘Sam…’
Olsen didn’t register the concern and suddenly flicked the switch close to the maximum setting, setting off a chilling scream from Bognor who started to move frantically in the seat.
Jordan pushed Olsen out of the way and turned off the current, expecting a torrent of abuse from his superior but looked up to see Olsen choking the man to death.
‘A name you son of a bitch, GIVE ME A NAME!’ With no reply, Olsen lashed out and broke the prisoner’s nose.
Bognor, with melted flesh and blood dripping from his chest and stomach, tried to control his shakes, spat out blood and looked up with a shockingly evil glare. His tone was creepy as he slowly spoke, attempting to taunt Olsen. ‘Rachel…a brunette, a nurse at Guy’s hospital.’ Bognor started to laugh sadistically. ‘She’s mine.’ An overwhelmingly arrogant smile crept across his features.
Olsen snapped. The words were like a missile attack to his very soul and he switched onto automatic pilot, as his body became a weapon of incredible force. He raised his hands high above his head, bringing them down with all the power he could muster as two direct strikes that stunned his hostage. He tore the wires away and gripped Bognor hard on the bullet wound that had been inflicted hours earlier. He lifted the larger man clean off the floor despite the scream of pain. ‘No…’ Olsen hissed his face twisted in frenzy. ‘Now you’re mine.’
Ramsey handed Deane all the information he had and saw his best agent rise to leave. ‘One more thing, Tom; I have someone you need to meet.’ He leaned forward and spoke to his assistant over the intercom. ‘Send him in please.’
Into the office walked a young man who was smartly dressed, around 6’ tall with a light smile on his blonde features. He had a pleasant air about him and seemed approachable and warm hearted, nothing like some of his arrogant colleagues.
‘This is Agent William Hawk. He’s your new partner, Tom.’
Deane recoiled at the news and looked straight back at Ramsey in a state of shock. ‘What?’
Ramsey was convinced Hawk would prove an excellent foil for his stubborn new partner. ‘Your new partner; you’ll need backup on this.’
‘No. If I’m having a partner then I’ll take Sam with me. Together, we can guarantee success, if you’ll just-’
‘Olsen is with S.U.C.O. and he’s running the team, there is no way I can release him with our stretched resources. Hawk is no slouch, he did save Olsen’s life earlier today.’
Deane dismissed that, glanced at Hawk and then looked away as his mind span out of control. Over the last few months he had told himself there was still a chance to reunite his partnership with Olsen and there had even been moments where he had come close to phoning Sam or even his wife, Rachel. As much as Deane hated to admit to himself, he had found life without Olsen lonely, almost empty in comparison. Just the presence of a possible new partner made him wonder whether his former charge would survive the threat facing London. I just hope he remembers to assess everything and everyone. It’s too easy to wind up dead in this business…
Ramsey could see Deane going over the development and tried to force the issue. ‘I suggest you go over everything with Hawk and make sure you work this up thoroughly.’
Deane turned to face his superior and one time fellow field agent. ‘No, I work alone. Without Sam, that’s h
ow it’s going to be from now on.’
Ramsey overpowered the continued protests. ‘You work alone? Not any more you don’t. Hawk is young, I’ll give you that but he’s talented and can make a difference here. He’s been touted to be a S.U.C.O. member within a year. He’s going with you and that’s an order.’ Ramsey heard more protests and raised a hand as he continued with his orders. ‘When you’re in Russia you’ll make contact with C.I.A. agent Ron Hanley and Dieter Kurz from GSG9, German Intelligence and work this out together.’ He saw Deane continue to show disapproval. ‘This is a united front Tom, different agencies are pulling together to stop this impending disaster.’ He studied the younger man, who was looking increasingly uncomfortable. ‘Hawk can help you on this operation, if you’ll just let him. Knowing the importance of this, I know you will.’
‘If the importance is so great, surely a more experienced agent will help me prevent-’
Ramsey’s voice grew in power as he spoke, growing tired of having to explain himself. ‘My resources are stretched and experience is a luxury I don’t have. You will work with Hawk on this operation and when you return in one piece you’ll thank me for it.’
Deane shook his head in disbelief but knew Ramsey wouldn’t change his mind. The last thing he needed was to look out for an inexperienced youngster on an operation of such importance together with his own health problems a serious issue of concern. For a moment, he considered finding Olsen and talking him round to joining forces one more time but with S.U.C.O. now reunited, it all seemed so pointless. He looked back as he led his new partner out of the office. ‘This is not a good idea.’
Ramsey watched him go and put the comment down to Deane’s continuous dislike for change and nothing more. He reached over and pressed the button for his secretary, it was time to attend to other matters of urgency. ‘Sally, I want you to bring me the files of all the agents who have left the service in the last 15 years. I don’t care what the reason was, just bring me the files and I’ll go through them myself. Thanks.’
Sitting back in his big brown leather chair, he closed his eyes and cleared his mind. All he could hear was the soothing noises of the large grandfather clock that stood proudly in his office. The noise was calming and took him away from death and disaster. Minutes passed and he felt his heart slow, as the soothing ticking helped bring him back down to earth. This was what he wanted. Peace. Not just in his office but on the world stage. Ramsey was no fool and knew how ridiculous that sounded but he would give it his all to make it happen and the boost of bringing back as many agents as possible would help turn the tide.
Olsen turned off the digital recorder, a clear breach of protocol and focussed on Jordan who was still standing in the corner of the interview room looking uncomfortable. ‘Dismissed; I’ll take it from here.’
‘Let’s talk outside for a minute.’ The two men left the room and Jordan tried his best to be diplomatic. ‘You have to let this go Sam, it’s not getting us anywhere.’
‘I can’t let it go. I can’t and I know I can break him.’
Jordan didn’t know what else to say. ‘Ok fine, then we’ll do it together. Let me help you.’
‘I can’t ask you to take that risk, besides, I need another favour from you. Call it poetic justice.’ Olsen handed over a file. ‘I’m assigning you to find Hal Burton.’
Jordan looked up at the mention of his former S.U.C.O. commander. ‘What?’
‘Read this file and you’ll know what I’m talking about. He’s been working against us. I want you to find him and bring him back here.’
‘No problem.’ His eyes glanced to the interview room and back at Olsen. ‘You’re sure you don’t still need me for this?’
‘Thanks but I need to finish this on my own.’ Olsen’s eyes gave a flicker of emotion and then he turned away and went back into the interview room. Olsen looked down at the prisoner, who was on his knees and grimacing under the increasing pain as smoke came from the charred skin on his chest. ‘No more talk. Get up.’
Bognor didn’t know what was to come but after coming through the burns assault, felt ready for anything. He didn’t move from his spot on the floor.
Olsen still stood at the doorway. His thick black eyebrows came down over his eyes and a startling look came over him. ‘Are you really willing to die for this cause?’
Bognor certainly felt that way but didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer.
Smiling to himself, he grabbed Bognor by the hair and promptly started to drag him out of the interview room whilst looking back with fiery eyes. ‘Let’s see, shall we?’
Bognor waited for the madness to stop but then started to struggle as they approached the fire escape doors. A cold sweat broke out on his back and the invincibility he had been feeling faded in seconds. ‘WAIT!’ He shouted.
Punching in a security code, the doors flipped open and he started dragging Bognor up the stairs, still holding him by the hair.
Bognor tried to struggle and pushed the pain away, now genuinely scared of what was happening. Would this maniac be this crazy or was it another bluff?
Climbing up the final flight of stairs that led to the roof, Olsen released his hostage and pushed him upwards.
Bognor took his chance and turned around on the attack but his weakened condition was no help and he crashed to the floor as a well-placed kick hit him square on the jaw.
Olsen seized his prize and watched the doors to the roof open, releasing a cold breeze and the sights and sounds of a frantic London. ‘Like I said, you’re going to tell me what I want to know. It’s time to see how well you can fly.’ With ruthless force, he picked the man up and threw him carelessly towards the edge.
Bognor was scared now, terrified even. This was no bluff; he was in a fight for his life. He turned around and struck out but again the savage burns on his chest impeded his movement and he failed to see a double-handed attack coming his way. Almost in slow motion, it came, the force of it sent him hurtling backwards. Before he could do anything, he realised he was now over the edge and falling to his death. Bognor screamed out, now totally wracked with fear.
Olsen reached out and grabbed hold of his left hand, whilst supporting himself behind the brickwork of the rooftop. Getting a firm grip, he looked over to see Bognor hanging over the edge and saw the hundred-foot drop to the ground, a fall no one could survive. Olsen was thriving in the moment and felt a rush of triumph at the look of fear on the once defiant prisoner.
Bognor was panting out of control and screaming constantly. ‘You can’t do this! Nooooo! Pull me up! Pull me up!’
Olsen smiled down at him, and deliberately loosened his grip. ‘You’re running out of time, you know.’ A rush of wind came over him as he gazed down with a face full of anger. ‘GIVE ME WHAT I WANT!’
Bognor, for the first time, thought about giving up the information but the fear consumed him and he felt dizzy. ‘Kiprich will kill me!’
‘So will I!’ replied Olsen.
Bognor was going into fits of hysteria now and could take no more. He looked down and saw the dizzying drop below. His vision began to black out and he started to talk, stammering at first. ‘Kennington! An abandoned building in Kennington. Baldon House! Some are there. That is all I know. Don’t drop me, please! I beg you! Please!’
‘What the hell are you doing? At the entrance to the roof, Carter watched in astonishment.
Olsen hurled up his prize, dropped Bognor to the floor and looked round to face his friend. ‘My job’ he said bluntly.
Carter barely recognised him and wondered what in the world had happened in the interview room and where Jordan was. ‘This is not the way we do things! We’ll stop these attacks by the book and come out head and shoulders above the rest, just like we did in the past!’
Olsen squared up to Carter. ‘This is no time to follow the rules, Dan! We have limited time and we needed a lead.’ He stepped closer still. ‘I just got us a big one. Get behind it!’
Carter placed a
hand on his chest and tried to stop him moving off. ‘We’re not going to do this!’
Olsen broke free and the two men looked at each other until he spoke again. ‘If I don’t go down this road, I might lose Rachel and I will never let that happen.’ His eyes were alight with rage. ‘Never.’
Carter said nothing but held his stare until he watched Olsen step past him, dragging the shattered form of Bognor to the stairs. He saw the savage burns on his chest and felt deep concern for his friend and the temper he showed no signs of losing.
At the bottom of the stairs, Olsen handed over Bognor to a team of security guards. ‘Charge him under the terrorism act and make sure he doesn’t get bail.’
One of the guards was looking at what was left of the prisoner’s chest.
Olsen saw the concern. ‘He got away from us and had an accident. It’s nothing.’
Bognor, still traumatised by the day’s events, looked up slowly. ‘You can’t do this; you said you deport me. You said it!’
Olsen gritted his teeth and snapped back. ‘I lied.’ He turned away from the scene and walked down the winding corridor. With each step, he kept expecting to feel remorse for what he had done but all he could hear was his conscience justifying everything. Olsen actually felt more confident in his actions because of the risks he had taken. Pondering on this for a moment, he found his mobile phone and dialled the number of Agent Sampson, who was one half of an elite double act; Sampson and Miller, two experienced and trusted S.U.C.O. agents who were protecting his wife. As the number continued to ring, a growing wave of concern came over him, until finally a voice answered. ‘Sampson? Oh…thank god. I thought something had happened. Look, I want you and Miller to be fully aware you could be a target. I know, I know, we discussed this already but I don’t want you taking any chances, ok? Is my wife there? Oh…ok, no, just let her know I called when she wakes up. Yeah, thanks.’