by Tim Jopling
Deane stepped out into the corridor and eventually, Hanley followed suit.
Both men slowly reached for two swords that were a part of several displays on the walls nearby and raised the weapons to defend themselves. They kept their eyes on the attacker, who seemed quite happy to allow it.
Akira suddenly charged at them both, lifting his blade high above his head. It smashed down on Deane’s sword and immediately the two began to thrust and parry at each other with fierce determination. Akira kept his feet moving and pinned Deane into a corner but had to retreat as the smaller Hanley entered the fray and attacked from the right with several two handed blows.
Moving back into the corridor, Akira couldn’t repress the grin on his face that spread from ear to ear beneath his mask. He was more than a match for them both and would draw it out to its last breath.
For Deane, it was the last thing he needed. In his long and illustrious past he had briefly encountered the art of fencing but in no way did he consider himself competent. One question lingered in his mind; how long could he withstand his opponent?
As he lifted the sword above his head, his muscles ached under the heavy strain. Deane whispered to Hanley and moved forward. ‘We’ll take him together, grind him down until we break through.’
Streams of moonlight angled across Akira’s black clothes as he moved further down the corridor. Then, as he passed an ancient Russian tapestry, the two attackers ran towards him. Not for one second did Akira panic, he raised his sword in defiance and waited for an opening.
Deane moved in first, angling his blade to cut into Akira’s shoulder and watched as his partner thrust from the right. They both tried to overpower him and get to Salenko. There’s still time…
Akira was more than equal to the task and fended off the two-pronged attack with considerable ease. As his blade deflected each blow, suddenly, he thrust his sword forward and then lashed out with his left hand at Hanley, who went flying into an assembled coat of armour nearby.
Stepping up his attack and the power of his blows, Akira unleashed all his anger on Deane’s defences and forced him back towards the bedroom. With every thrust, every wild swing, his hatred for the West erupted. The corruption, the lies, the relentless deceit; all of it was encased in his assaults and if his heart were a weapon he would have launched that at the intruders as well.
Finally, Deane started to buckle – literally. His knees gave way first and then his arms failed him as his sword dipped down and he watched in horror as the attacker’s blade cut into his left shoulder, forcing him to cry out in pain.
Akira closed in for the kill and saw the crumpled heap in front of him. Raising his blade skywards, he felt movement behind him and swung around just in time to parry a hefty swing to his stomach.
Hanley pushed down hard with his blade and forced the attacker back. He snarled through his black balaclava and thought about how he could extinguish the threat before him.
Akira grew tired of the distractions and spun away from the standoff. Then, whirling his blade around him, he sprinted towards the C.I.A Agent and was moving his sword so fast it seemed to blur into nothing.
Hanley gritted his teeth together, stood his ground and did his best to deflect the blinding attacks. As hard as he tried, it seemed that he was fighting several swords and not just one as he struggled with the ferocity of it all. Flashes of silver swept around him until finally, one sped past him and there was no time to move as he felt the full impact of the blade cut deep into his neck.
Akira screamed with joy as he unleashed all his anger into the gruesome attack and watched him drop to the floor.
Deane had been running to save his friend and after witnessing his demise, felt the fire in his soul ignite and erupt like an extinct volcano. Without a single hesitation, he threw himself at Akira, smashing into his side with ferocious force! Landing in a heap on the burgundy carpet, he reached for Akira’s neck but his movements were sluggish and he had to quickly snap his hand back to only just avoid another attack.
Akira jumped from his knees, swung with his sword and tried to end the battle.
Deane grabbed Hanley’s sword from his lifeless hand and fended off each attack. With each parry, his energy started to wane again, the pain in his chest exhausting. His body cried out for rest but he couldn’t stop, he just had to continue, he had to! One word repeated itself, and with it came hope from the jaws of defeat. Hawk…
Hawk started to cross the Lion Bridge but again turned back. What was going on? It had been almost…he checked his watch for the latest readout; 18 minutes and no signal! His worst fears flashed through his mind and started to repeat themselves over and over. Had it been a trap after all? Were they both dead?
Not once did he think of his own safety or how he would leave the country if indeed he were the only survivor. No, for Agent Hawk all that mattered was his loyalty to the operation and his mentor. Feeling his black Browning 9 mm pistol his hand, he started to run across the Lion Bridge and that then turned into a sprint of mercy. He would save his mentor and complete the operation himself if he had to, whatever it took for Thomas Deane.
Olsen crouched low and watched the rest of his team line up behind him. Slowly, the S.U.C.O. team leader moved his head around the wall and saw the large steel gate in the distance. He set his Maglite torch to a low setting and slowly moved the beam around the gate. He saw the signs of caution from the Military light up and another stating that access was off limits. As the streams of light moved across, Olsen noted the padlock hanging off the gate, with it slightly ajar. He listened hard and could hear murmurs in the distance.
‘We going in?’ whispered Carter.
Olsen thought it over. ‘Might need our backup for this one.’ He found his radio and spoke into the receiver, whilst keeping an eye on the steel gate. ‘Team B, come in.’
Silence.
‘Team B, come in please.’ Olsen checked the radio and made sure it was on the correct frequency. As he tried again, his voice showed signs of concern. ‘Team B…anyone…do you copy, pick up!’ he saw Carter close his eyes and lower his head.
Carter put a hand on his friend’s arm. ‘Sam, maybe we should-’
Olsen wasn’t listening and was making sure his Beretta was fully loaded. ‘Jarvis…I want you to locate Team B. Find out what happened and then get yourself down here as soon as possible, you hear me? We can’t afford to waste any time.’
Jarvis had a fiery look in his eye. ‘Watch your back, boss.’ He snapped a fresh magazine into his black Glock.357 pistol and moved away. Within seconds, he was gone as the shadows engulfed him.
Olsen led Carter and the two tactical agents past the steel gate. His ears were heightened for any sounds as he turned into a winding corridor and noted a grime-covered sign that read ‘EAST PLATFORM THIS WAY’. He jogged down the corridor, giving a signal to his men not to use their torches. Coming to the edge of the wall, he gradually moved his head around to get a good look at the situation facing him and his team.
Six men armed with pistols and rifles were either working on the remaining track of the St. Marys platforms or walking further into the darkness and the connecting tunnels. One platform had been cut in half, with the other part converted to offices used during the war many years ago. Generators were giving power to light beacons that had been positioned around the area, cutting out the shadows in most parts.
Olsen focussed on one man, identifying him as Jozef Kiprich. It seemed strange to him that the wanted killer was now just several feet away after spending months on his tail. His eyes locked onto him. ‘Just you wait, you son of a bitch.’ Olsen snarled to himself. A large machine was next to Jozef. Probably used to set off the charges from a distance. Olsen looked up and down the platform one more time to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. Have to move in fast, these psychos would blow themselves up if needs be. He checked his Beretta and exchanged a look with Carter and his team. ‘Move to the edge of the wall and pick your target. I’ll take out
the one working on the tracks; he’s a priority. The rest of you focus on those further down the tunnel. Clear?’ His eyes grew with intensity as he made his final comment. ‘We cannot let them activate these charges. Remember, they may very well look to do just that even if it means sacrificing themselves. Take your positions.’ Olsen crossed over to the other side of the wall and crouched low. His nickel-plated Beretta moved out of the darkness and locked onto the tall, thin man who was working on the track. Checking his aim, he gave a quick nod to the rest of his team and pulled back on the trigger twice. ‘NOW!’
Two bullets surged out of the chamber and flew straight into the back of his target.
Jozef had been looking down the tunnel ahead, still visualising the huge amount of victims that would result from the attack when the mayhem started. He wheeled around and saw another of his men fall down as bullets rained in from all angles. ‘HOLD YOUR POSITIONS!’ he screamed. Jozef dropped to his knees, picked up the remote control detonator from a dead colleague nearby and started to run to the nearest wall for cover.
Olsen saw the move and managed to get a shot off before being penned in by a flood of bullets.
Jozef winced in pain as one bullet ripped through his left hand and the detonator flew away as sparks flew around him. He quickly dropped down behind the concrete of the platform and started to return fire, thinking of how to retrieve the detonator.
Olsen cursed to himself and knew from their position his team would not be able to stop them. He moved around the wall to provide cover and found a map in his pocket. On the layout, the remains of an interconnecting corridor could be seen in the other direction of the platform. Olsen glanced around and saw that Kiprich and his men could sit behind the platform and not be threatened by their attack. He looked over at Carter, who was reloading his pistol. ‘We can’t stay here! Get ready to move, one by one, we’ll each provide cover. GO!’ He shoved out the first tactical agent and fired off several rounds, before moving himself.
A terrifying scream came from behind.
Olsen didn’t move, just kept running down the platform and gunned down another attacker on the way. He dived into the small corridor, which had one end bricked off and changed the cartridge in his Beretta. From one quick glance, he saw that only he and Carter had survived. Gunfire rained in at all times as Olsen moved to the side wall and gave a fleeting look along the platform, noting that only three attackers now remained. He found a flash-bang cartridge from his jacket pocket and got himself ready, catching Carter’s look. ‘Stay right here Dan and cover me. I’ll finish this.’
Carter made sure his pistol was fully loaded.
Olsen gritted his teeth in denial. For Rachel! With that, he threw the cartridge in the direction of the attackers, who were huddled behind the platform.
Jozef saw the two bodies of the Government Agents and made his run to the detonator, quite prepared to blow the whole area to pieces as long as he had his revenge. Whatever it takes… He took his first steps, trying to stay low but the whole area erupted into a blinding white light. Jozef clutched his eyes straight away and fell back, unable to see anything.
‘NOW!’ screamed Olsen, leaping out of the corridor and firing his Beretta as quickly as it allowed him. With Carter helping from behind him, Olsen saw both guards fall down and lie still. His sights switched to Jozef, who lay on the ground fumbling with a mobile phone in his hands.
Jozef crawled around in his semi-blind state. But I can still be successful! His hands held the mobile phone and moved over the keypad, dialling Ferec’s number. He answered straight away, ‘Zoltan’ he whispered, still disorientated. ‘Carry out your plan… ’ He dropped the phone and clutched his left arm, which had ripped open and started to bleed heavily.
Smoked billowed out of the Beretta as Olsen shuffled closer, his weapon out in front of him at all times. ‘Make one move and it’ll be your last,’ he said coldly, almost on top of Jozef. Anger bubbled away inside of him and it took over instantly. He stamped one of his size 11 shoes onto the wounded arm. ‘It’s over!’
Jozef screamed out in pain and then identified the S.U.C.O. leader standing over him. He spoke with a sickening smile. ‘You may think that now…but you won’t for much longer.’
‘Meaning what?’ shouted Olsen.
Jozef’s grin grew larger and he spat in his direction. As quickly as he could, his right arm flashed into his jacket and pulled out his backup pistol.
Olsen saw the move and fired three times, not moving for a moment, before he was convinced Jozef Kiprich was finally dead. He lowered his weapon and let out a sigh of relief as he closed in on Jozef Kiprich’s body.
‘Sam!’ shouted Carter.
‘I’m fine Dan, I had no choice but to…’ his voice trailed away as he caught sight of a mobile phone in Kiprich’s dead hands. He grabbed the phone and saw the display indicated an active line. ‘Who is this? Where are you?’ He listened hard but heard the line cut dead. Olsen put the phone in his pocket and jumped up, back to platform level. One image came surging to the surface in his mind. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out the image he had been sent by Operations Command, of the MI5 car and the mystery man who had attacked his friends. ‘Stay right here Dan and make sure those charges don’t go off!’ The team leader glanced around at all the faces of the dead but none of them matched that of the photo. ‘No, no, no…’ he murmured, ‘we have to find him!’
‘Who?’ asked Carter.
Olsen gave him the photo. ‘The man who attacked the MI5 car and Jordan and Gibbs! We have to search the rest of this place – he has to be here!’ Olsen’s mind was racing. Faces and voices filtered through his thoughts and then suddenly, an image of Thomas Deane took hold.
‘Terrorists are arrogant. To commit so many murders so coldly shows how driven they are. The most deadly attackers plan ahead; always try to be one step in front.’
Olsen heard the words and knew where he had to go. As he retraced his steps back to the rope still hanging down the lift shaft, a large cloud of smoke further down the corridor took hold of him. He looked at Carter. ‘If I’m right, we have a shooter at the Olympics opening ceremony; this man right here!’ He pointed at the photo. ‘I’m heading there now. Get down that corridor and make sure he’s not amongst the dead. Be careful!’
Carter sprinted off into the shadows and the large cloud that was spreading down the corridor. He was concerned about a possible shooter but just as much, if not more, he was worried for his fellow S.U.C.O. agents.
Chapter 16
Friday, July 27th 21:15,
St. Mary’s station (abandoned), Central London.
Olsen continued climbing, got to the surface and sprinted for the car. Deane’s voice came to him again. Emotion and feeling belong at the end of an operation. Time is precious; minutes can cost lives. Olsen powered the car down the road and saw the clock read 21:15 as he swerved the car around a corner. Holding the steering wheel with his left hand, the phone on the dashboard rang. ‘Olsen!’
It was Carter and he sounded frantic. ‘Sam! I can’t find the man in the photo. I’ve checked all the bodies here, he must be at the stadium!’
Olsen pushed the car past 80 miles per hour. ‘I’m heading there now! What about the others?’
There was a pause on the line. ‘Jarvis is wounded but it’s not serious but the others are in a bad way. The ’medics are on their way now.’
‘I’ll get back to you!’ He slammed his foot on the accelerator and powered the car down a one way street that would lead him out onto one of the A roads in the direction of the Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park. As the scenery flashed by the windows at speed, Olsen struggled to maintain focus. His mind was overcome with a flurry of emotions as he remembered the last few months vividly. The trip to Oman, reliving his father’s death, leaving his partnership with Deane behind and the loss of Gibbs and possibly Jordan too, all hit home from different angles. Finally, the image of his wife, Rachel Olsen, was the one that lingered.
&nbs
p; Ferec had a beard and reading glasses on, together with some make-up to hide the injuries from his clash with Gibbs. He gave another look around his position as he pulled an orange overall down over his chest. Ferec moved into the public arena and glanced up to one of the stages where music bellowed out from a well-known band. As he walked down the nearest aisle passing hoards of screaming fans on their feet, the large balcony ahead remained his target. His small eyes locked onto the Royal family in the distance who were now settling into their seats. Slowly his glare moved along the row and he saw the Prime Minister singing along with the music. Ferec released a sick laugh and didn’t see a huge amount of security visible on the balcony. Underneath the orange overall, his hands found the small camera that was attached to his belt and had got past the security checkpoint.
Getting into the stadium had been ridiculously easy. His change in appearance had flummoxed the guards at the gate and the pass he had obtained months before from a service worker assigned to the Olympics had got him in with no questions asked. He felt the camera in his hand and took several steps forward.
Olsen struggled to keep control of the vehicle and swerved it onto Carpenters Road. He forced the Audi into 5th gear, passed the nearby Travelodge and then turned sharply into Warton Road via Friendship Way, passing a small block of flats. The traffic was getting worse but Olsen weaved the car and forced his way onto Loop Road. He could see the Olympic Stadium ahead as he passed the futuristic-looking Aquatics Centre on his right hand side. More people appeared on the street and he was forced to slow down as the crowds quickly grew to a flood of people. Olsen cursed to himself and ditched the vehicle at a side entrance, immediately having to deal with Police officers who tried to stop him from leaving the vehicle. Olsen explained as quickly as he could and started to sprint towards the stadium. His legs felt like stone but he pushed hard and could see the Arcelormittal Orbit sculpture ahead, lit up in red. The tallest sculpture in the U.K. stood out and was an impressive sight but Olsen kept his eyes on the nearest stadium entrance as he pulled out his mobile phone and rang ahead to warn his colleagues.