by Tim Jopling
‘What?’
Carter looked wearily up at Lorna Reed. ‘We have to know who it was that attacked them. It could prove crucial. I just hate my job and what we have to do.’
Lorna closed her eyes for a second, not knowing how anyone could live the life of a Government Agent and stay sane enough to last the distance. ‘So what happens now?’
‘Sam will get the information, you can be sure of that. Then we’ll move forward, probably to another station.’ Carter moved closer and held onto Lorna’s hand more tightly. ‘Lorna, I know everyone appreciates your help today but from here on in it’s going to become far more dangerous. I want you to go back to MI6 headquarters.
‘But I can-’
‘You have to listen to me. This attack can only mean one thing. We’re getting closer which means we can stop them and believe me, we will.’ Carter’s blue-green eyes were suddenly alight with fire. He hated his profession and wanted nothing more than to become a normal man but he had a job to do and was fiercely determined to carry it out. ‘I’d feel a lot better knowing you were out of harm’s way.’
‘Sam may want me to stay.’
‘I’ll deal with Sam.’ He gave her keys to Jordan and Gibbs’ car and pointed to the vehicle, which was parked across the road. ‘Take that car right now and get to safety.’ He managed a warm smile of sorts, amidst all the pain and suffering. ‘Go, Lorna.’
Lorna took the keys slowly, not wanting to leave the man she so wanted to protect. ‘I’ll go but just know that I’ll be waiting for you.’ She opened the car door and then shut it quickly, as emotions took over her and she kissed Carter passionately on the lips.
Carter did nothing at first but then responded, running a hand through Lorna’s fiery hair, feeling something other than the pain and constant sadness, which had been the exhausting companions of his life for so long.
Lorna so wanted to take it further but restrained herself and pulled away. She smiled radiantly at Carter and stroked his cheek before getting out of the car. At the window, she smiled again and then turned away. With each step, she silently prayed to the heavens and hoped she would see him again.
Carter managed to smile back and wave her off. Not in a long time had he felt that surge of attraction, or joy and he wanted it back again, even if it had only been for a few seconds. His resolve for the service remained and he would give up his life in a heartbeat but he made a promise to himself that if he made it through the Operation he would find Lorna and take the chance of happiness he had been given. The thought of her waiting for him was a massive boost; a huge comfort that alone gave him the strength to look back to the scene ahead.
Yusupov Palace and the Moyka River seemed so calm and gentle, so tranquil that if they could witness the scene, no one in their right mind would ever have thought an assassination attempt was about to take place.
For Deane the scene was irrelevant. All that mattered was the death of Salenko, the prevention of certain war and the pointless deaths of millions. Still, his body ached and he had struggled to keep up with Hanley on their way to the Palace but he would hold out, he had to.
Yusupov Palace, normally a well-known tourist attraction, was made famous in 1916 with the murder of Grigoriy Rasputin, a famous Russian who somehow exercised a constant power over the courts and Government of Russia. Killed by Prince Felix Yusupov, the elegant Rococo-style Palace had been made available to Salenko and his team of aides and security, for its lush surroundings, pleasant location overlooking the Moyka River and stunning interiors. Salenko had friends in high places and to spend election night in such a stunning Palace was not an offer to be declined.
Deane studied every window and every aspect of the yellow, colonnaded building and thought of Rasputin; the irony of the situation not lost on him. He thought of the future and wondered whether Rasputin’s history would survive, given the fact that Yusupov Palace was soon to be the home of two murders in its hallowed halls and not just one.
‘You ready?’ asked Hanley, with a sparkle in his eyes.
Deane agreed and they set off towards the Palace and crouched down behind some bushes.
A guard was patrolling alongside the gates and though he was diligent in his watch and would give his life to save his master, he never noticed two shadows flash past to his left and enter the grounds…
Olsen waited for a response as he held the photo to Jordan’s face. ‘Alex, I have to know. Is this the man who attacked you and Gribbs?’
Jordan looked ghostly white and could barely be heard as he tried to speak.
Olsen leaned in closer. He tried to control his emotions, knowing that with each passing second he was probably killing the man he had only recently started to like and respect. ‘Alex…’
Jordan managed to speak in a whisper. ‘Yes…that’s him, he came from nowhere, collecting…supplies.’
Olsen gripped Jordan’s hand and looked to the paramedics. ‘That’s it, get to the hospital now, GO!’ He watched them scramble to the ambulance and prayed to god he had not only done the right thing but that Jordan would pull through. He started to run to the car but stopped in his tracks and spun around at the sound of something familiar.
‘He’s gone into VTAC!’ shouted the paramedic. ‘Hurry! get the paddles! Charge at 200 – CLEAR!’
Olsen watched in agony and knew the other S.U.C.O. Agents were watching too. Did he have time to stand and watch? He started to take some steps back whilst still watching the scene, struggling inside as to whether he should stay or go.
‘Charge at 360 – CLEAR!’ Jordan’s body shuddered again under the force of the shock but still the high-pitched whine of no registered pulse continued.
Olsen could feel the sweat pouring down his sides and beading on his forehead. This was it, he had killed Alex Jordan, killed him in cold blood! A voice started to cry out inside of him screaming at him that he’d made the wrong decision; he had killed his friend!
The senior paramedic shocked Jordan again and suddenly a pulse came back and registered as the familiar reoccurring beep. ‘Ok, let’s go!’ He rushed towards the ambulance with his colleague and shot a look of hate towards Olsen, who had been standing near his car, watching the scene.
Olsen saw the look and understood. His whole body shook from stress. The weight of the world, no, the universe, were on his shoulders. He just wanted to drop to the pavement there and then and let someone else take the strain. Within seconds, he had done just that, dropping to his knees in defeat.
Carter placed a large hand on his friend’s shoulders. ‘Sam…if it’s any consolation, you did the right thing. All we can do is hope that Alex pulls through. We have to go. Come on.’ He lifted his team leader to his feet.
Olsen continued to shake and felt like his body was being crushed in a massive vice. ‘If we don’t stop these-’
‘We will stop them. We will.’ He managed a smile of sorts. ‘Where to boss?’
Olsen swallowed hard and staggered into the car as Carter took the driver’s seat. ‘St. Marys station, it’s abandoned and I’ll bet my life the terrorists are there.’
‘The same station the Military were checking?’
‘The same. I don’t care about the Military, these bastards are there; I know it. Contact headquarters, have a tactical team meet us there.’
Carter revved up the engine and contacted the car ahead, which contained the other S.U.C.O. Agents. ‘We’re heading to St. Marys, follow me.’ He turned the vehicle away from Regis House and in the direction of the heart of the attacks.
Jozef knelt down and studied the remains of the platform and track at St. Mary’s station. Beams of light from his torch flashed onto the modified areas and a large grin spread over his features. The cascade charge could be seen neatly tucked under the metal, ready to detonate. His green eyes looked further down the track and saw that around 6’ was in need of being completed as well as the connecting tunnel before the destruction could begin.
Around the terrorist leader were
the remaining ten men from his loyal group. Jozef wasn’t taking any chances. He huddled together a group of his men and ordered them to patrol the outer parts of the station for any unwelcome visitors. ‘If you see anyone, I don’t care who it is, kill them on sight. Get moving!’ Before going back to help with the final charges, he took his mobile phone from his back pocket and dialled a number. The phone was fitted with a booster on the back to make sure the signal would penetrate the layers of concrete above him. ‘Ferec, it’s me. Are you in place?’ he asked with keen determination and heard exactly what he wanted to hear.
Carter swerved the Audi A4 around the corner and came onto Newark Street and screamed past the Queen Mary University. He turned again onto Fieldgate Street and powered the car down the road, keeping his eye on the dashboard computer. ‘There!’ Carter swerved onto the pavement amidst tooting horns and scrambling pedestrians. Ahead, he saw what looked like a door to a flat but according to the computer and Lorna’s directions that was the only remnant of the surface station that was destroyed by a bomb in World War II.
Olsen took a deep breath and got out of the car, trying to find the strength for one last effort. Again, Rachel came to his thoughts. There was no time to call her, no time for words of encouragement or love. Beside him was Carter, who also sizing up the situation. ‘Dan, I want a Police presence outside, get them over here now but tell them to keep it quiet.’ He looked at his team of surviving Agents and the tactical team of five Agents who were filing out of their armoured van. ‘We’ll split into two teams. Team A will be Carter, Jarvis, two of the tactical team and me. The rest will form Team B to cover the North side of the station.’
Pulling himself together, Olsen opened the unlocked door and flashed his Maglite around the entrance area. He saw the main stairwell down to the lower level had been bricked up.
‘Could use explosives to get down there?’ offered Carter.
‘No. I’d like to keep the element of surprise for as long as possible. Look over here.’ He pulled away several cobwebs from the doorway of a lift shaft and looked down. Speculating a drop of around 30 or 40 feet, he could make out the lower level with some help from his Maglite torch. ‘Here’s our opening, get some rope and safety equipment from the car. Hurry!’
Carter came back from the murky shadows in seconds and began to setup the rope and safety equipment.
Olsen helped secure the rope to the sturdiest part of the station he could find and put his Beretta back in the holster. ‘I’ll go first. Send everyone down one by one.’ His tall frame grabbed hold of the rope, twisted his feet around it and slowly lowered himself down the lift shaft. The original white paint was noticeable but it was now covered in a heavy layer of thick black dust. No sounds could be heard as the lower level became closer and closer. Olsen dropped from the rope and immediately pulled out his Beretta, spinning around in both directions of the tunnel. There were no signs of any unwelcome visitors. No light either. He didn’t like the prospects of working through an abandoned station that no doubt was alive with armed men. Noises in the lift shaft made him look up to see Carter lowering himself down.
Carter found his Heckler and Koch P7M8 pistol and looked around. ‘Tell you one thing…I’ll be glad when this is over. I’m going to use buses from now on!’ he said with a hint of sarcasm.
Olsen watched the other team members drop down from the rope one by one. He found the detailed map in his pocket and studied it closely. ‘This is the area where the station branches off in two. Down that way,’ he pointed to his left, ‘are offices and storage bays. To the right here, are the two remaining platforms and the interconnecting tunnels to the main line.’ He broke off and turned around, his Beretta at the ready.
Several voices could be heard some distance away, coming from the right. The sounds echoed through the station, making it hard to determine how many attackers there were. Olsen looked behind him and saw the final two Agents drop down from the rope. Got to hurry this up! He found one of the S.U.C.O. Agents from Team B. ‘Take your team down the corridor to the left. It leads to the storage bays and some offices. Search the whole area and then come back this way to provide backup.’
Both teams moved off and merged with the darkness around them.
Olsen led the way down the corridor; the eerie noise of distant voices was growing closer. His nickel-plated Beretta, which shone in the darkness, was kept out in front of him at all times.
A large gust of wind rustled through the area, causing howling noises to make everyone on edge. They came to the end of the corridor and quickly filed out into a large room that was covered in layer after layer of dust. Ancient looking maps covered the walls, dating back to the 1940s.
Olsen’s Maglite beam played over the walls and scoured the area for any attackers as they moved deeper into the station.
The inside of Yusupov Palace was overflowing with treasures that spoke of its history. Large winding corridors and massively spacious rooms with decorated ceilings, eye-catching archways and shiny tiled floors. The Palace was fit for a King, or at the very least, the next President of Russia.
Deane kept his mind on the job, ignored the glamour and stayed still in the shadows as he waited for a guard to pass by.
Both Agents were dressed in tight, black jumpsuits, designed for flexibility, keeping in the heat and giving total cover in the night. They saw the guard slowly reach the end of the winding corridor and turn away.
Deane and Hanley stepped out and began to climb a stunning white stone staircase that gleamed in the darkness as moonlight sparkled in from the ten foot window on the landing. A large golden chandelier hung from the ceiling and the scene looked visually breathtaking as the two men, unarmed and with no ID or even clothing labels to identify them, continued their journey to the top floor.
At the top, Deane felt the vial of liquid that was in a small pressure package in his right pocket. Just one drop, that’s all I need and this will be done. There will be no World War III. He shook his head as he sidestepped into the hallway and tried to push away his constant pain. Stop complaining Tom and get it done. Then you can whine all you like about your aching body.
The long winding corridor that was ahead added even more glamour to the setting. About 30 or 40 feet away was the main master bedroom that housed the next President of Russia. Covering the entire length was a thick burgundy carpet. There were three archways with gold fittings around the sides and on the walls were tapestries and coats of armour, with an ox blood colour in the background. As the two men made more progress down the hallway, merging with the shadows, swords and shields glimmered in the moonlight and then Deane stopped in his tracks and noticed the unthinkable.
Where were the guards outside Salenko’s bedroom? There was no sign of anyone, not even an abandoned posting. Nothing!
Deane looked across to Hanley, who simply gave a shrug of the shoulders and stepped forward to get on with things. The more cautious of the two couldn’t stop from hesitating. It was a trap, he was certain of that but what choice did he have now but to go along with it? Normally he would never hesitate and would always take the gamble and come out a winner but this was different, he wasn’t at his best and could feel himself fading already. Finally, Deane stepped forward and into Salenko’s bedroom, whilst pushing the button on his communication device (devoid of serial numbers or anything that could be traced back) that would send a signal to Hawk.
Inside, a large double bed took up most of the room and the same lush carpet and glamorous decor lined the walls as it did elsewhere.
Hanley waited by the door and signalled his partner to go forward and place a drop of the liquid on their target’s body.
Deane complied, taking several steps forward, towards the bed, with the vial of liquid in his right hand. He froze, holding his breath and watched the covers move slightly. He sent out a silent prayer that all hell wasn’t about to break loose.
The movement stopped.
Deane resumed his journey to the bed ahead of h
im and never once felt any nerves about what he was going to do. Did he like taking a life? No. At all costs he would avoid it but on this occasion, in front of him was a man hell bent on starting World War III and consequently sending millions to a needless death. It had to be done.
With his left hand, he slowly lifted the sheet. It was then that the body came violently to life and he felt himself slamming into the wall nearby.
As he came to, Deane saw a man dressed in a replica of his own outfit leap out with his arms and hands spread like a panther and kick Hanley so hard in the face, it was a miracle his neck wasn’t broken there and then. Deane watched his partner roll with the attack and saw the mystery attacker leap out into the corridor as the door slammed shut.
Hanley struggled to his feet, searched the room, saw no sign of Salenko and could only focus on the window. ‘It’s over, I’m out of here!’ he whispered.
Deane caught his partner’s arm and pushed him towards the door. ‘We do this together. Through him is Salenko and the prevention of this war. You’re not leaving!’ I need you, Ron, I can’t take him on my own! Deane wanted to say but knew his pride couldn’t handle it.
Hanley eventually opened the door slowly. Straight away, he wanted to turn and head for the window, it all seemed so pointless.
Ahead of the two protectors stood Akira, dressed in a similar head to toe all black outfit, holding a shiny, deadly silver sword, almost daring them to come near him. Slowly, he tapped it against a nearby archway, goading them. Akira had waited an eternity for this moment and he was going to make the most of it.
Akira held the sword out in front of him with his right hand and continued to pace between the archways. Though he couldn’t see the faces of the intruders, he was certain it was Deane and his American ally, Hanley. Akira felt pure fury flow through him and gritted his teeth in determination. This is going to be for Madeline. All of this will be for her. This is my revenge and I will send these two ignorant fools to their graves.