by Tim Jopling
Olsen heard every word and felt a glimmer of hope. ‘Excellent work; have it sent to my car, I’m heading there now.’ He was about to terminate the call and do just that when he suddenly remembered the shopping receipt he still had in his pocket from the dead terrorist at Aldwych station. ‘Do me a favour and check something else out for me. I found a receipt from a WH Smiths store on a body earlier. The receipt has a store number, I want you to find the location.’
‘What’s the number?’
Olsen focussed his Maglite torch on the small piece of paper. ‘Hold on.’
WH SMITHS
VAT No: 545 8575 21
www.whsmith.co.uk
241055652 ALL PURPOSE ADHESIVE 2.40
Subtotal £2.40
Total £2.40
Cash £5.00
Cash Change £2.60
Store: 0031 Tran: 041332
Date: 26/06/12 Time: 11:32
‘Store number 0031. Have you got that?’
‘0031. Got it. I’ll check the location and call you back.’
Olsen snapped the phone shut and started to climb back up to Ballard’s position. The image of Gibbs’ severed torso still wouldn’t fade from his thoughts but the developments at least took his mind away from it partially.
Ballard watched his team leader carefully and saw his ghostly white face. His shoulders slumped in defeat. ‘He didn’t make it, did he?’
Olsen avoided the glare and spoke quietly as he moved past. ‘No, he didn’t. We’re going to need a recovery team to retrieve the body.’ Almost instinctively, he started to sprint back to his car, passing the fallen Jordan, Carter and the paramedics on the way. He caught sight of Lorna Reed standing around and wondered about involving her in the developments but decided against it, knowing he had put her through enough already. In his mind, he was distraught at losing one of his best Agents. Could he have done anything differently? Was he fit to continue as leader? These were just some of the thoughts that were circling like vultures in his mind, trying to drag him down to an even greater low. Olsen shut his eyes and repressed a tear, feeling as if the whole world was bearing down on his shoulders. Rachel came into his thoughts and he even felt selfish for that, knowing that he had deliberately pushed her away in their conversations and in his heart. At that moment, he would do anything for just a few moments with Rachel. A tender kiss, a hug a chance to feel her hands on his body. Anything to give him the chance to show how much he loved her.
‘We have to go! Now!’ Deane looked back to the parked Lada and saw Hawk trying to find something in the glove box. ‘LEAVE IT!’
Down a side alley, just a few hundred feet away from Apraksin Market, where you could literally buy anything, the newly formed team crouched down low behind a black, steel fire escape and waited.
Deane was screwing the silencer attachment onto his Spitfire pistol and took aim at the far end of the alley, waiting for the black Skoda to turn in. ‘When I fire, you get ready to move. When that car is out I’ll destroy our Lada and give us cover to escape.’
Hawk steadied himself.
The black Skoda appeared and slowed to a crawl, as if its owners were summing up the threat before turning into the alley. Suddenly, its speed increased dramatically and it started to tear down the alley towards the vehicle it could see in its sights.
‘NOW!’ Two bullets roared out of the pistol and hurtled down the alley towards the two front tyres of the enemy vehicle.
The two FSB agents driving it, both loyal to Akira and Salenko, couldn’t control the car with its two front tyres disabled and were helpless as it careered into the side wall of a building with a loud crash.
Both Hawk and Deane were now sprinting away, until the latter spun around and fired another round of bullets, this time at the petrol tank of his own car. The Lada erupted into flames and consequently blocked any chance of pursuit.
Hawk had been sprinting at full speed and only as he jumped over stacks of boxes in the alley did he glance back and see his mentor slumped against the wall. ‘Let’s move!’ he half whispered. There was no response and he was forced to rush back, despite his heart beating out of control with fear for his own safety. ‘We have to keep moving! Tom!’
Deane was almost on his knees and was clutching his chest with his right hand, almost digging his nails in to stop the pain. Running was the last thing he should be doing but what choice did he have? He felt Hawk’s arms wrap around him and drag him down the alley, despite his body crying out in pain. It took everything he had to not scream out in agony.
When they had reached a safe distance and Hawk simply couldn’t drag his mentor any further, he set him down in a small car park on the outskirts and swept his gaze on his surroundings. As far as he could tell, there were no threats and no sign of their pursuers. Turning his focus on his mentor, his tone of voice took on a slight edge, wanting an explanation for the most recent events and the truth of what he had suspected ever since they had met. ‘What’s wrong with you, Tom? I know there’s something. Ramsey would never have sent you on this operation if he could see you now.’ No response came. ‘I have a right to know!’
Deane was still gripping his chest, his lungs in particular and was nothing more than a crumpled heap on the floor. Wheezing badly, he spoke in a slow tone, ‘glandular fever. I have…glandular fever, Will. Ramsey didn’t know, he’s…relying on me.’
Hawk looked to the sky in desperation. The most important operation for decades and the best of the best had glandular fever! His stress levels and fear of failure began to get stronger and stronger. ‘His trust is misplaced!’ Hawk’s tone was full of anger as he continued to verbally attack Deane; so angry was he at the arrogant man’s actions. Minute by minute, his admiration and sheer awe for Deane was falling away, being replaced by disappointment and a sense of betrayal. Deane was not the immortal legend after all. ‘If this operation fails, the repercussions could be fatal for millions! How could you do this? You’ve put our national security on the line because of your own arrogance!’
The crumpled heap never really moved but the eyes told a story and gave a true reflection as to what Deane was really feeling. To the trained eye, flashes of guilt could be seen at first but that quickly faded to frustration. True, he had put national security on the line but it wasn’t his fault, was it? He hadn’t asked for glandular fever to attack him now and he was doing all he could to beat it. No, this was fate; it simply wasn’t meant to be and there were no other agents who could have taken on an operation of such importance. It was down to him, one way, or another. He could hear his thoughts more clearly in his mind and heard a stubborn voice break through some of the pain and feed him strength. Stop moaning and do it! You’re making excuses, you are the best and you will get through this! MOVE!
Hawk, meanwhile, was still running through scenarios in his mind and was at that moment debating internally as to whether it was wise to send a signal to C.I.A. Agent Hanley or even Ramsey himself. True, it would mean the end of Deane’s career, something he never wanted to see but what about the innocents who could suffer and die if the operation failed?
Movement and sounds of aches and pains snapped the younger man out of his deep thinking.
To Hawk’s astonishment, Deane forced his body to function and started to get to his feet. Far from stable but standing, he looked down at his partner and slowly took his hand away from the vicelike pain in his chest. ‘I may not be at my best but I am still in command of this operation and have no doubt about it, we will succeed.’ He had said the words and slowly he was starting to stand by them far more than he had done of late. If I can just keep the pain in that black box in the corner of my mind, I can get through this. I can get through this and take down Salenko, I cannot fail! For an instant, he considered sending Hawk away and dealing with the operation on his own to protect his young charge but knew straight away how foolish that would be. Like it or not, he needed the boy.
Hawk never took his eyes off the fiery set ahead of him and w
anted to believe every word his partner had just said but there was no getting around it. The operation was in serious danger and whether Salenko knew it or not; he had the advantage.
Carter helped lift the stretcher and wondered why Olsen hadn’t bothered to stick around and help. The ghostly white face had certainly stood out in the shadows. Something’s happened; maybe he’s heading back to HQ? He tried to gain some insight from the features of the lead paramedic, desperate to know if his friend was going to pull through. ‘Is he going to make it?’
The lead paramedic checked the patient’s breathing again and looked up. ‘Hard to say, his pulse is weak and he’s tachycardic. The bullet wound to his chest has done a lot of damage and we need to get him to the nearest hospital, right now.’
All the S.U.C.O. agents helped lift the stretcher and their faces all told one story: concern for their colleague and a look of total helplessness.
Olsen had been sitting in the car, motionless, for some time but had now forced himself out of his depressive state and was watching the screen on the dashboard of the Audi A4 slowly display an image. The face displayed was indeed the same one Ramsey had shown him. His memory absorbed as many features as he could. In the back of his mind, an idea came to him, one he couldn’t possibly pursue but what would be the consequences if he didn’t? Before he could consider it further, his mobile phone started to ring. ‘Olsen.’
‘Sir, its Williams back at MI6. I’ve got the address of that store for you-’
‘Better still, just tell me what tube stations are nearby and include abandoned and closed stations in your search.’
‘Hold on sir, checking now.’ Clicks of a mouse could be heard over the line as databases were accessed and searches were run. ‘Oh my god.’
Olsen shook his head in disgust, knowing what the answer was. ‘St. Marys is one of them isn’t it?’
‘That’s right. The store is just a 5-minute walk away. But the Military said-’
‘The Military were wrong! I’m taking my team there!’
‘But surely the Military would oppose any-’
Olsen had heard enough. ‘I’ll get back to you.’ With that, he snapped the phone shut and thought about his idea, knowing what the consequences could be. But how can I put one life above thousands of others, no matter who it is?
Olsen knew the answer in his mind and his heart and walked straight over to Carter, the other S.U.C.O. agents and the fallen body of Jordan, on the stretcher. Holding his head high in an attempt to maintain control, he addressed the senior paramedic firmly, never once looking at any of his fellow agents. ‘Change of plan.’ he said quickly. ‘I want you to wake Jordan up, any way you can.’ Olsen could see the horrified looks on the faces around him but was convinced he was doing the right thing. He had to know who had attacked Jordan; it could be crucial to the attacks. His voice was cold and detached as he snapped again at the paramedic with a vicious stare. ‘Do it right now.’
Chapter 14
Friday, July 27th 15:15,
St. Petersburg, Russia.
Just minutes after the outburst from both men, the older of the two had made a decision to ‘borrow’ a rusty looking blue Skoda that appeared to be at least over a decade old. Deane’s logic had been that by the time anyone had reported it stolen, if they missed the rust bucket that much, they would be long gone. The vehicle would do its job, to take them to C.I.A. Agent Hanley who would be waiting to link them with a GSG9 agent.
The car ride to meet their ally had been a quiet one and the tension between the newly formed duo was noticeable.
Deane had kept a watchful eye on the mirrors throughout the journey and had wanted to say something to reassure his partner but could think of nothing.
Hawk on the other hand, had started to feel like the senior agent and had already started to worry about how he could even begin to take his mentor’s place on the operation.
Not that he needed to. Deane was still in pain and at times it overcame him but he would not be beaten and stand aside. His voice, though not as strong as it usually was, still carried its weight of power and authority. ‘Take the next left onto Per Grivtsova. When we get there, I want you to stay in the car and keep an eye on things outside.’
‘Stay in the car? You can barely stand!’
‘I’m fine, Will. Stay in the car and let Hanley and I deal with this. Pull over here.’
The Lada pulled over onto the edge of a small housing estate. Having moved into the Western part of St Petersburg, they had both seen the city’s wealthiest residences and now appeared to have come to the poorest dwelling in town.
Hawk parked the car and looked out at the three-story block of flats surrounded by overgrown green gardens. It seemed far away from the impressive monuments and more built up areas. The slightly humid edge to the weather forced him to wind down the window. ‘You really are a stubborn man, you know. You’re hurting and you need my help, like it or not.’
‘You’re strictly backup don’t forget that. Your anonymity is an asset and I intend to hold onto that by keeping you on the sidelines.’ Deane placed a large brown baseball cap on his partner, got out of the car and slammed the door in frustration. Forcing his legs to move faster than they would like, he made it to the entrance of the flats, stopped for a second to recover and then entered the hallway.
Hawk could barely sit still for a moment more. He got out and started to pace back and forth next to the car, desperately wanting to help.
Inside the small block of flats, the lighting was barely noticeable but the darkness seemed to regenerate him slightly. The shadows, the dark, were where he felt most comfortable. Away from the hustle and bustle of the world, where he could blend in and do what he did best, plan his attack down to the letter.
‘You’re a little rusty, aren’t you?’ came a gruff voice from behind.
Deane spun around in surprise and jumped at the sight of Hanley stepping out behind him in the hallway. He really wasn’t himself! It was easy to end up dead and if Hanley had been a follower of Salenko, that’s exactly what he would be. Deane tried to compose himself and took a step toward his ally. ‘I thought I’d let you surprise me for a change, that’s all.’
Hanley didn’t look convinced. ‘Fine. Whatever.’ He looked at the staircase to the left. ‘Kurz is on the third floor.’
Both men started up the staircase, with Deane in particular forcing himself to be on his guard and more aware of potential threats than ever.
Outside, Akira, with Denyer next to him and another FSB agent in tow, never took his eyes off the rusty Skoda car and more importantly, the young man who had just got back in the vehicle. All over St. Petersburg, Akira had FSB Agents loyal to him covering the streets and had been informed of the two MI6 agents’ escape almost immediately. From his obscured view, the boy in the car was not one he recognised, or had fought before. From what he could see, the young agent was no more than 25 and even from his position crouched low behind another vehicle, some 30 metres away, looked on edge and most probably inexperienced. MI6 really must be low on resources to send a boy on an operation of such importance. Dark thoughts of killing the boy there and then with a single shot to the head bubbled away, knowing just how much of an impact it would have on Deane and their operation in general. Anything that affected Deane personally was good for Akira; he would travel halfway across the world to make that happen. Minutes passed and as much as it went against his nature, he agreed with himself to leave the kill until another time. The right time will present itself to break Deane’s resolve and eliminate him at the same time.
Akira had spent hours with Madeline and they had planned everything down to the letter. Salenko had now finished his rallies and public appearances and was now simply waiting to be sworn into office, such was his lead over his so-called rivals. There would be no more chances for MI6 or anyone else to kill him in cold blood. No, the only way to get to Salenko now would be at his home and Akira had already set the wheels in motion to terminate an
yone who dare enter the virtual President’s mansion. As ever, Madeline had foreseen everything and it would all fall into place with precision.
Akira’s mind flashed back to an hour before and the moment where GSG9 Agent Dieter Kurz had been on his knees and begging for his life. Of all the agents he had fought and killed in the years that had passed since his vision, Kurz had been the weakest and had proved to be easy prey. It had been nothing more than a formality to end his life quickly and prepare for the impending visit from the German Agent’s allies.
Akira turned to Denyer and his colleague next to him. ‘Load your weapon and be prepared to fire. Remember, this is simply a warning; I have something special planned for them.’ He started to move away and merge with the crowds on Kazanskaya Ulitsa. His thoughts turned to Kurz again, on his knees and pleading to avoid the inevitable. All of it had seemed so…pathetic and Western in nature. He imagined the West as a unit, the sum of all the weakest and corrupt people on the planet, kneeling before him as one. Just as they all would in time, when his vision became a reality. He would realise his destiny in the near future and they would suffer the same fate as Kurz and all the Agents he had killed in the past. One strike, one move and then one way of life.
Jozef downed a glass of water and sat down at the grimy table in the run down flat. A patch of heavy damp on one of the walls took hold of his attention but he quickly consoled himself that it wouldn’t be long before they would all be leaving the dilapidated area for the last time. Several papers were laid out on the table, all concerning the opening ceremony for the Olympics, just hours away. He looked over to the supplies he had returned for and made a check of the time.