by Tim Jopling
A loyal follower sat down opposite, his chiselled features focussed on his friend. ‘You have everything planned?’
Jozef gave him a wry smile. ‘We are almost ready. I promise you, revenge will be ours. MI6 are losing the battle. Ferec tells me two of their precious S.U.C.O. protectors are already dead; they will not be able to stop us. As for today’ Jozef laid out a detailed plan of the London Underground network. ‘The loss of our charges at Aldwych station is disappointing. However, once St. Marys goes off and the connecting tunnel to the Central line, the devastation will be off the scale. The cascade effect will cause a chronic collapse of the tunnels and stations around it.’ Jozef’s dark green eyes lit up with delight. ‘The casualty rate will be huge.’ A large, sick grin overcame his face. ‘Of course, our backup plan and fall back attack is also in place. We cannot fail.’ Jozef felt no nerves during his talk with his trusted ally nor did he feel they would come throughout the rest of the day, so certain was he that fate had already predetermined they would prove successful. The Olympics will prove to be a blood bath and nothing more. S.U.C.O. will be wiped out, just like the leader of MI6 was.
‘St. Marys is completed and ready for detonation?’
‘You and I and the rest of our team will be placing the final charges in moments. With the Military now convinced the station hasn’t been touched, we will be free to finish. Who will stop us?’ Several of his handwritten notes were laid out on the table together with a map of the London Underground. ‘St. Marys is here on the District line,’ he pointed. ‘Stratford, where the opening ceremony will take place, is here on the Central line but there is a connecting tunnel to that line from St. Marys. Thousands of people will be travelling to the event. That’s when our charges will detonate, when the tube network is overcrowded with innocents.’ Jozef looked at his handwritten notes again. ‘According to the newspaper reports, the Prime Minister will be at the opening ceremony, together with some of the Royal family.’
‘I do not understand how the blast from the tube station will affect the opening ceremony.’
Jozef’s face showed it’s evil smile once more. ‘That’s where the other part of our plan comes into play. Do not concern yourself with that. You should focus on today’s events. We will be successful.’
‘I know we will Jozef, I know.’ Like his friend, he too was confident; there was no way they could fail in their efforts.
Jozef sat back, deep in thought. In the past, it had always been his twin brother Gyorgy who had been the master tactician of any attack. Jozef knew, this time, it was impossible to fail. His brother’s death would be avenged, not only by destroying MI6’s hierarchy and their premier team of highly trained agents but by attacking the very core of England at the same time. What better ways to gain revenge for the loss of a loved one, he told himself. Jozef got to his feet and organised his team to begin moving the operation to the abandoned St. Marys tube station, one last time.
The door to Dieter Kurz’s flat was ajar. Deane noticed it first and stopped Hanley from heading towards it straight away. ‘It’s a trap. We have to leave.’
Hanley brushed past and walked confidently to the door. ‘You worry too much.’ He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The doorway opened to a small hall that led directly into the lounge, which had a brown leather armchair with a small glass table in front and several bookcases surrounding it. The walls were a cream colour and the main window, which could be seen straight ahead from the doorway, was wide open, with the curtains flapping in the wind.
Hanley’s eyes locked onto the back of the brown armchair in front of him and saw a motionless foot, to the right. He signalled Deane to follow as he stepped in and trained his weapon all around the flat. ‘Kurz?’ he asked quietly, ‘you with me or what?’
Slowly, the two men entered the flat and when they both agreed they had everything covered and were standing shoulder to shoulder, Hanley turned the chair around.
‘Shit.’ Hanley cursed loudly and saw GSG9 Agent Dieter Kurz slumped in the chair with two bullet wounds in his forehead still dripping blood. Not only that, he was plastered in brightly coloured leaflets that all read; ‘JOIN YOUR COMRADES AND VOTE FOR YOUR NEXT PRESIDENT!’ A large picture of Salenko in Military dress was under the header.
Deane stood with his shoulders slumped in defeat and summed up the scene with a grim tone. ‘They know we’re coming.’
Hanley tossed a leaflet away and looked around the flat for Kurz’s laptop. ‘Fine with me, I hate all this messing around. No sign of his laptop either, must have hit him in the last hour or two.’ He turned to his ally, looking clearly frustrated. ‘Now we strike back, right?’
Deane shook his head straight away. ‘Absolutely not, that’s exactly what they want us to do. We will strike but on our terms as much as we can. We have to make it count and be sure it looks like suicide to the outside world. There is still time.’
Hanley cursed under his breath. ‘You still play it safe, don’t you? The best time to strike is now!’ The C.I.A. Agent clenched his fists in anger. ‘The more time we waste pussyfooting around, the more chance of our failure!’
‘We can debate this until we’re blue in the face but we’ll strike when we’re ready and not a moment sooner!’
‘I’m from the C.I.A! Who put you in command? We’re the world Police and if anyone is going to make any-’ at that moment the window next to Hanley exploded under a hail of gunfire and bullets streamed into the room, smashing the furniture and Kurz’s body. ‘Get down!’
Deane moved to the window and gripped his British made Spitfire G1 pistol so tightly that his knuckles were almost as white as snow. The attack had ceased on the flat but gunfire could still be heard in the gardens below. As he looked out quickly, before darting back to his position of cover, his heartbeat jumped to another level, knowing that it was now Hawk who was under attack. Within a second or two, the faces of all his former partners over his long career flashed past him. From Olsen back through to when he was first starting out himself and learning from Olsen’s father, Geoff and all the others in between. One voice broke through the remembrance. He would not lose another. Not one.
Kicking the window open, he jumped out and blasted round after round from his weapon, until suddenly the attack ceased. Silence seemed to surround everything as Deane stood on the small balcony with his Spitfire G1 pistol held out in front of him, waiting for another attack. His eyes were the focus of all his energies and all his talents as he relentlessly stared at the area where the attack had originated; almost knowing in his gut retaliation was coming.
Not for the first time, he was right. In a flash, a man spun around from his position with a large rifle in his hands and took aim at Hawk and the Skoda car. Deane, whose weapon had never once moved, stayed in his aggressive stance, bent low and supporting his gun with his left hand and fired one single shot that found its mark right between the eyes of the attacker, who slumped back. The other turned and ran. This time however, Deane was slow on the uptake and missed his shot.
With the attack over, he holstered his weapon and jogged out of the flat with Hanley in pursuit. At the bottom of the stairs, he found Hawk and helped him to his feet. A warm smile came to Deane’s face. As difficult as the operation had been so far, he had been charged with Hawk’s safety and progress and he was not about to fail on either. ‘You read the situation Will and took cover when you needed to.’ As he dusted off his partner’s jacket, signs of compassion could be seen all over his face. ‘I’m glad you’re all right.’
Hanley was covering his two allies and on the lookout for a follow up attack. ‘As much as I love reunions,’ he said sarcastically, ‘don’t you think we should get moving?’
Deane turned around to face the smaller C.I.A. Agent. ‘Agreed. If we stay together we will only attract attention that will hinder us further. As much as I don’t like it, we have to split up.’
Just the thought of it made Hawk shudder. ‘Split up?’ he ask
ed, in shock.
‘They know we’re here, they know what cars we’ve been using, what we’re wearing. This operation is in grave danger. We have to split up and meet at our agreed location in a few hours.’ He checked his watch with a deep frown on his face. ‘Nineteen hundred hours, agreed?’ Deane studied the faces of his two allies and saw real concern in the young Hawk. ‘Only there can we make our move. We have no choice, Will. Remember your training, be cautious and the time will pass.’
As Deane and Hanley conferred, Agent Will Hawk swallowed grimly and started to consider how exactly he was going to stay alive until the designated meet up. Not for the first time, he was scared. His mind was spinning and his heart was pounding. The present was bad enough but the future seemed to look so clouded and no one seemed to have any answers.
Carter stepped in front of the paramedic and raised a large hand at his friend and team leader, Olsen. Anger and determination came through in his deep voice, still shocked at what his team leader had just said. ‘Are you out of your mind?’
Olsen had expected such an emotional response from Carter and really didn’t want to go through everything but he’d already detected the same feelings in the rest of S.U.C.O and wanted to keep control of the situation. ‘We don’t have a choice, Dan. None of us do. I’ve just been sent an image of the same man Ramsey showed us earlier. He took out an MI5 car earlier. I must know if he attacked Gibbs and Jordan too.’
Carter had been shaking his head vigorously the entire time Olsen had been talking. ‘You’ve really lost it this time, Sam.’ He pointed to his fallen comrade. ‘Look at Alex, LOOK!’ His voice broke with emotion and a look of real helplessness came over his blue-green eyes. ‘There’s a real chance he won’t survive and you want to put him through hell a second time. I won’t allow it! None of us will!’
A long silence lingered between Olsen and Carter, as the others stood by and watched.
Olsen saw Agent Ballard appear at the doorway to the lift several feet down the corridor and knew he would have to tell his team about Gibbs as well, no matter how much he didn’t want to. ‘Look, I found Gibbs just a few minutes ago.’ He forced himself to raise his head and look at some, if not all, of his team. ‘We’ve lost him. There wasn’t anything I could do.’ The news was like a shockwave through the group, with each agent physically recoiling at the news. Carter looked stunned as the team continued to deflate. ‘We will retrieve the body but…it’s going to take some time.’
Olsen focussed on his friend. ‘Dan…whatever you might think of me now, you know I’d do anything for this team and the last thing I want is to lose Alex as well. I just have to know if this man was the one who attacked them; he could be the key to all these attacks.’ He looked around the faces of his brave protectors as he continued, ‘we all have to admit, these attackers are extremely intelligent and are more than capable of carrying out their plan. At the same time, all of us are expendable. I have to know for sure.’ Olsen studied Carter for several seconds and could see what he wanted in his friend’s features. ‘You know I’m right Dan, we have to do this.’
Carter paused and looked past his team leader for a while, feeling disgusted with not only his job but also where his life had suddenly ended up. Here he was, about to allow someone to force his friend back to consciousness that could quite possibly kill him at the same time and yet in some bizarre twist, it was the right thing to do. Information and knowledge was everything. His voice, so strong and dominating only moments ago, was now almost a whisper. ‘I’ll be in the car.’ He walked past and headed straight to the car, with Lorna Reed and the other S.U.C.O. Agents in tow.
Olsen stood alone and forced the words out quickly, so not to give himself a chance to change his mind and remember that he was now starting to think of Jordan as a friend and not just a colleague. He addressed the paramedics again. ‘Do it now, we’re running out of time.’
The senior paramedic didn’t look comfortable at all and was opposed to the notion. ‘You understand he could die if this-’
‘I got it, just get started.’
The paramedic looked to his colleague. ‘I’ll need some epinephrine to get his BP up high enough to wake him and get me some hydrating fluids as well!’
Olsen watched it unfold before him and saw Jordan given a combination of drugs and fluids, all in a desperate attempt to find out the answer to one question…
Heavy darkness surrounded Deane, Hanley and the young Hawk, who all stood under two huge lions carved out of stone. St Petersburg at 19:00 was deserted, with several events taking place throughout the Sennaya Ploshchad area, all marking the certain election of Salenko to office. It was an election night and with it came more joy than many Russians had ever experienced. Normally, it would prove to be a down to the wire event as to whom would stand triumphant but on this occasion, Salenko had all but won the race; all that remained was the announcement. The votes still had to be counted, so whilst the formalities were taking place, all of Russia was awash with excitement, desperate for change to start that very night.
For the three Western agents, the time had come for the darkest moment of Operation Purge. It was time to assassinate the next President of Russia and set the wheels in motion to preserve world peace.
Hawk saw a look in Deane’s eyes and noted something similar in Hanley’s. His partner seemed to have somehow put aside the glandular fever but for how long, Hawk couldn’t say. For Hanley however, it was obvious he was on edge but he had a different look about him, something that couldn’t be easily placed. Hawk studied him for a moment and tried to work it out but couldn’t be sure. As he looked around at his lush surroundings, he wondered whether the American was looking forward to the night’s events a little too much.
Not for the first time, Hawk wondered about the operation and again felt guilty about taking part in the assassination of a potential innocent. Surely there was a diplomatic solution to it all? Ramsey, Deane and the entire C.I.A thought otherwise and that was that. Hawk knew his place and waited to be told of his part in it all, despite his feelings.
The Lion Bridge, a stunning structure designed by Pavel Sokolov, seemed to provide vital shelter for the three protectors as it stood proudly along the tree-lined Kanal Griboedova. On each side were two large sand-coloured lions that appeared to hold the impressive structure together with large wires protruding from their mouths, attached to the grey bridge itself. Normally well known for romantic encounters, on this humid night it witnessed the coming together of three men who were determined to carry out their task.
Deane checked his watch and attached a device to his belt. He pointed to a button on the top of small box. ‘Once Hanley and I are inside, I’ll press this button every few minutes to indicate we are still on track. If you don’t hear anything for ten minutes, then and only then do you approach. Is that clear?’
Hawk agreed but still had his reservations about the operation. ‘You really think this is the best approach? Breaking into his mansion, placing drops of that liquid on his skin, I just don’t-’
Deane, dressed all in black, adjusted his clothes and cut his partner off. ‘I’ve planned this out to the letter. It’s the only way. That should be enough for you.’ Turning to Hanley and then back to his young charge, his voice became harder still. ‘Stay here Will. Hanley and I will return in half an hour and all this will be done.’
Hawk watched the two men blend into the darkness, their black outfits matched the heavy shadows perfectly. Slowly, he let out a long sigh and wondered how the West and its protectors had come down to cheap assassinations so quickly, when diplomacy still seemed to have so many possibilities. Could things really be as desperate as this?
Chapter 15
Friday, July 27th 17:00,
Regis House basement, King William Street, Central London.
Violent-looking black clouds had enclosed the area of London where S.U.C.O. were focussing their investigation and had now begun to unleash a small thunderstorm below. A thunderous
boom came first and then the first lightning strike shot down out of nowhere and lit up the grey evening.
All the faces of team S.U.C.O. looked up and one by one, felt their own despair reflected in the sky above and the hell that was coming down.
For Lorna Reed, all she could think about was the welfare of the man she was falling for, Dan Carter. As they both sat in the front seats of the Audi A4, she watched him closely.
Every now and then, Carter would glance over to the reception of Regis House where Jordan could be seen lying on a stretcher, with Olsen and the two paramedics standing over him.
Lorna felt helpless and so wanted to help the man she barely knew. But I know the important things about him, she reassured herself. He wants to help people, he wants to do the right thing and he’s the bravest man I’ve ever met. Without hesitation, she took hold of Carter’s hand and held it tightly. ‘I wish I could help you. I hope your friend will pull through, I really do.’ Carter held tightly onto her hand and looked into her eyes with such a lost look, Lorna wanted to take him in her arms and comfort him with a long lingering kiss. She didn’t but tried to think of something to say. ‘I can’t believe Sam is doing this, what’s got into him?’
Carter stared blankly ahead, trying not to think of anything in particular. He started to tenderly stroke Lorna’s hand as the rain trickled down the windscreen. His mind was awash with memories and he couldn’t help but wonder how he had come to such a crossroads in his life. With every droplet of rain came a recollection. Some gave him hope and reason to continue in his field of choice, others brought more darkness to him and he struggled to push away more failed operations, lost friends and his own costly mistakes.
After several minutes, Carter continued to watch the rain on the glass but spoke for the first time. ‘The sad thing is, though, he’s doing the right thing.’ he said, in a defeated tone.