by Albert Able
Rudi scowled for a while as if he were sorting a hand of cards, but even as the words of his trusted sister settled into his mind, something seemed to engage and slip into place as he irritably brushed her aside.
“Yes my baby, but first we must bait the trap.”
He rapidly hammered out an e-mail message that he studied for a few seconds, then seemingly satisfied, he selected a number and pressed ‘send’.
Rudi then turned just as his other sister entered the computer room.
“So, my little bunnies, do I detect that we are looking for a little bit of sport?” Rudi heaved himself off his special chair, and hand in hand allowed himself to be led away by his naked sisters who were already making lurid facial gestures suggesting some of the more erotic games they loved to play together.
***
It hadn’t taken Carl Peterson very long to establish that the disastrous charade in Paris was the work of his mentally and physically twisted son, Rudi. The anger welling within him caused him to want to take his son by the throat and whip him like a disobedient horse, but he knew that in Rudi’s case the response would be an overwhelming explosion of his uncontrollable rage as his massive inferiority complex took over his warped mind and ravaged body.
Carl Peterson was a man without conscience. Although he possessed a token respect for his family he had never expressed any genuine paternal affection. The two daughters had always been spoiled and allowed a completely free rein. The single overwhelming control Carl had developed was by managing the supply of funds. In Rudi’s case it could be said that perhaps he had a minimal amount of guilt over Rudi’s deformity and was unusually more tolerant of his excesses. But when the news of the Paris debacle arrived on his desk, he steeled himself and instead took several deep breaths. Thoughtfully and deliberately he walked up to the large panoramic window and gazed out without actually seeing anything.
Carl Peterson had never been a team player. Although he had the benefit of four partners in the early days of the Syndicate, his authority had never been challenged and he not only expected his orders to be carried out to the letter but was accustomed to this always happening. Rudi’s maverick ill-conceived actions presented him with a totally different problem and it had to be resolved.
Finally he stopped pacing; he had made up his mind and knew what he was going to have to do.
Carl Peterson casually picked up his PA’s direct line. “Yes, will you please check where ‘Le Monde’ is at the moment and arrange for me to board at her next destination. At the same time please confirm when she is scheduled to be in New York.”
***
Alex Scott and Igor Pulaski, together with Hassan and Amir, were driven back to the ‘Prefecture of Police’ where Captain Le Grand greeted them. “Thank you for your assistance, Commander Scott. I would, however, like to talk to you privately for a moment.” He smiled apologetically at the others.
“Is it to do with Lieutenant Maurice Bouchard by any chance?” Alex queried, “because if so, you should say it to us all.”
The Captain looked uneasy. “Well yes, you see - and this is not official - but Maurice has been a good copper responsible for bringing many real criminals to justice. Now I am not condoning his final stupid act but he has a wife and family and the rest of France would prefer to remember him as a hero rather than a fraud.”
The Captain looked at each of his audience. “Am I asking too much?”
Alex looked at his companions: “We are all human and capable of bending the rules. SONIC does it all the time - it has to, as a matter of procedure, if it is to obtain any results. Maurice was, in my opinion, a perfectly normal good citizen who was unlucky enough to become entrapped by the Syndicate and its unforgiving code.’
Alex looked again at the others: ‘Let’s put it this way. We have nothing to gain by demonising Lieutenant Bertrand but I think, in fairness, we should look for a bit of a trade off.”
The Captain frowned. “A trade off?”
“Exactly. I think the deal should be that you, at least, and preferably the police department, actively work with Amir Kahlie and the rest of the Muslim community to foster a new understanding and working relationship. Does that sound so difficult?” Alex held the Captain’s attention and waited for a reply.
The Captain smiled. “You crafty devil, you know there is quite a lot of prejudice in that quarter and their reputation does them little good.” He looked at Amir: “but I give you my word that I will do all I can and hopefully ‘great oaks will grow from little acorns.’ Isn’t that what they say?” The Captain reached out and offered his hand to Amir who gratefully took it and held if firmly.
“That will be a great start, but you must understand that there is just as much prejudice in the Muslim community, so we will all have to be incredibly patient and understanding. You also have my word that I will work with you and the authorities when and wherever possible.”
Only when he had finished speaking did Amir release the Captain’s hand.
“Looks like a deal to me. Agreed, team?” Alex looked at each of his colleagues and all nodded encouragement.
“Well, if that’s over, perhaps I can get to London and join Sophie for the little surprise visit to her family I arranged.” Igor looked at Alex and winked. “I believe her uncle is particularly keen to see her again.”
Igor made his good-byes and Alex arranged for him to be taken to Gare du Nord. Then he arranged for Hassan Eddie to be returned to Moscow.
“We are indebted to you, Hassan. Your support has been invaluable and the spirit of your co-operation will almost certainly prove to be a giant step forward in trying to get a moderate understanding and better tolerance from both sides of our communities.”
“I wish it were as easy as it sounds, but there is so much prejudice and misunderstanding it will not be easy, but perhaps we have made a new start?”
If Hassan’s warm smile was anything to go by, Alex mused, then there was indeed real reason to hope.
***
Back in London at the CTB Securities workshop, Hans scratched his head in disbelief as he read the message for the third time.
Attention Alex Scott
I am naturally disappointed with that idiot’s performance and I expect you will think that you got away with that one, yes?
So I have decided to test your resolve a little further and arranged another little challenge. You’ve guessed right, it’s a nuclear bomb to be detonated somewhere in London. But as with Paris, the question is, am I bluffing or is it for real?
Have fun, Alex, you don’t have much time left.
Syndicate.
Undeniably relieved that the Paris bomb threat had turned out to be a gigantic hoax, the Boss and the former Minister of Defence, Sir Gerald Fisher, were also very cross and frustrated with themselves for not having had the wisdom to more accurately assess the situation.
So when the Boss received a copy of the message from Hans de Wolf, his mood quickly turned to one of exasperation. He was in dark mood when he called Alex Scott.
“Alex, I can’t say if this is another bluff or not, but I want to know what’s going on at that castle. I am sending Hans to see if he can fathom out anything about this secret computer. Actually, he is already on his way. You will join him at Paris de Gaulle Airport where you will be met by one of our people and then flown by air force jet to Salzburg. There you will join a small team of Austrian commandoes who will lead the way by helicopter to the castle grounds.
‘I’m afraid there is no time for diplomatic niceties. With this one it’s just get in there and find out what the hell is going on and get out. We’ll sort out the mess afterwards. Understood?”
“Understood, Boss.” There was no need for any other comment. Alex switched off the call and turned to the young police driver, the same one who had driven him from Montmartre
to the Eiffel Tour and was waiting to take him to the hotel to collect his suitcase and on to the Gare du Nord. “Ready for another challenge?”
***
Travelling in a military helicopter, Alex, Hans de Wolf and eight lightly armed commandos on loan from one of Austria’s elite military units, approached a baronial Schloss situated deep inside a pine forest on south facing foothills overlooking Salzburg, about five miles to the north-east.
The soldiers were commanded by a tough looking officer who took Alex Scott to one side just before they boarded the helicopter.
Introducing himself simply as ‘the Major’ he addressed Alex in a low monotone. “Just so you understand my orders”, the Major turned his back to the others as he spoke, “I am to gain entry to the Schloss and ensure that you and the other one,” he jerked his thumb towards Hans, “have access to the computer room. We do not anticipate any resistance. I am instructed not to get involved in any action other than self defence. Clear?”
“That is perfectly clear, Major,” Alex replied, adding: “We are not anticipating any kind of resistance.”
The Major nodded and ordered his men to board with the wave of a hand.
He was a dedicated professional and he did not like this type of mission. The mysteries of covert operations involving shadowy civilians was not the dedicated role he visualised for his team of hardened specialist commandoes, but as ever, he and his team would obey their orders.
It was dark as they swept over the forest to approach the Schloss from the north. Lights glowed from several windows and the headlights of two vehicles travelling on the road leading away from the Schloss could also be clearly seen.
Alex spoke into his microphone: “Let’s hope that’s the family going out for the evening!”
The Major nodded without comment.
Two minutes later the helicopter landed on the lawn right opposite the grand front entrance to the Schloss. At the same time several security lights flicked on, illuminating the area like a football pitch.
The commandos jumped clear and deployed long before the cloud of leaves and other debris kicked up by the still whirling rotor blades had settled.
“We might just as well have come in daylight,” the Major said, pointing towards the lights, and then drawing his pistol he walked up to the door and banged several times with the butt. Alex noted that he was smiling for the first time and was obviously treating the whole operation like a baby-sitting exercise.
They waited for a few seconds and the irritated Major banged again with the butt of his pistol, but there was still no reply.
“Since we’re doing everything correctly why don’t we try this?” Alex leaned in front of the Major and pulled on the long chain hanging from the wall. There was an immediate and clear sound of a bell ringing somewhere within the Chateau.
The Major forced a smile. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
A metallic voice sounded from a speaker somewhere in the wall. “Can I help you?”
“I am Major Otto Lintz and I am here to speak with Herr Peterson.”
“I’m sorry but Herr Peterson is not here today,” the voice intoned.
“In that case perhaps you will open the door as I have a warrant to search the Schloss.” The Major holstered his pistol and brushed down his battle fatigues, confident that the door would now be opened to him.
A rattle of the security bolts preceded a slow opening of the huge oak door.
No one could have anticipated what happened next, when the blast of a double barrelled shotgun hit the Major full in the chest throwing him backwards like a discarded rag doll.
In a natural reflex Alex dived to the floor, dragging Hans with him, which unfortunately seriously hampered the time it took Alex to bring his own weapon to the ready. In spite of the deafening effect of the close quarter shots, he clearly heard the sound of two fresh cartridges dropping into the chambers and the shotgun snapping shut just moments before the massive door closed with a heavy thump.
Two of the commandos rushed forward. One knelt in front of the door with his automatic pistol at the ready, the other leaned over the groaning Major.
Alex Scott got to his feet and quickly assessed their position. “Get him over there behind that wall,” he said in English, pointing. The two men not only understood but instantly recognised the authority in his voice and immediately dragged their Major to the wall.
Alex helped Hans back to his feet and joined others in the shelter of the wall. “Looks as though the front door plan is a no-no - eh, Hans?”
The commando kneeling beside the wounded major looked across at Alex. “On your command,” the commando held up the hand held microphone, “we have three men ready to breach the side door and both front windows.”
Alex acknowledged the commando’s report and as he reached across for the microphone.
“Did the body armour hold?” he asked and looked down at the Major.
“It looks like it,” the commando confirmed, adding as he carefully removed the major’s battle fatigues and released the straps on the armoured vest: “but he will probably have some internal damage with a blast like that at such short range.”
“You stay with him.” Alex ordered and then into the mike: “Confirm you’re in position and ready to enter?”
The mike crackled as the three commandos gave their monosylible confirmation grunts.
Alex took a final look at the Major and ordered: “Go - Go - Go!”
The sound of both front windows shattering followed almost instantly by a short burst of machine gun fire caused Alex to reflect on the Boss’s words: ‘No time for diplomatic niceties, we’ll sort out the mess later.’
“Seems this little mission has just developed into one hell of a mess!”
More automatic gun fire from the rear of the building instantly switched his thinking back to the job in hand.
“Report to me somebody!” Alex shouted into the microphone but there was no reply. He was about to repeat the call when the heavy front door swung open.
Alex dropped the mike in exchange for the Major’s discarded sub-machine gun.
“Ground floor clear,” a voice called from the darkness.
Alex tightened his grip on his weapon and remaining crouched behind a low garden wall a few metres from where he had left the commando and his Major.
“Well done, we’re coming in,” Alex called back but did not move. A few seconds ticked by and he called again: “Here we are - over here,” Alex called again.
At that moment a figure stepped into the doorway firing a concentrated burst from a sub-machine gun.
Alex raised himself on one knee and took careful aim as the gunman sprayed his last hiding place with a lethal hail of copper covered lead bullets.
Alex was a very competent shot but had always trained to aim for the largest target. However, having seen the Major’s miracle escape because of his body armour, it took only a split second decision to risk the more difficult head shot.
A short burst from Alex’s machine gun instantly stopped the man in the doorway who stood frozen in complete surprise as his own weapon fell silent and together they slipped with a clatter to the ground just as the radio crackled again: “One bandit down, rear secure but one gun still near front.”
Alex flicked the mike: “Confirming one down at front door, how many others in there?”
“One for sure poss. one other, stand-by.”
The radio went silent just as the sound of machine-gun fire and breaking glass, followed by a body launching into the air from a room above the entrance, signalled the end of another one of the determined defenders.
“Looks like the last one,” the commando’s voice panted into the radio.
With the Schloss declared clear of resistance, Alex and Hans entered the ancient building to b
e met by one of the commandos on the landing. Two elderly civilians stood nervously with him.
“Found these two in the basement. Seems the three dead were professional body guards. She is the cook / house keeper / nanny and her husband is the butler / servant. Apparently, all the other staff live in the village. The master is away and the three children have just left with two other body guards. They claim they do not know where they are going but it must be for a few days, because they took quite a bit of luggage. That’s about all we’ve managed to get out of them.” The commando finished his report.
Two other commandos joined them. “I think this is what you are looking for,” one pointed back to Rudi’s computer room.
Hans immediately followed the commando to the room, where he stood in silent awe taking in all the various instruments before finally sitting at Rudi’s chair where he carefully assessed the start-up procedure. “This is some outfit,” he spoke for the first time.
“What’s keeping you Hans? Finally met your match?” Alex goaded.
“Dammed clever stuff,” was his only whispered response; “Well, let’s see what we can do,” he added loud enough for Alex to hear. He rubbed his hands together and gave the impression he was seated at a theatre Hammond Organ. After a moment he carefully selected what he believed to be the start key.
To his delight the six screens facing him all flickered into life. Even more surprisingly, they were all live and active.
Bubbling with excitement, Hans exclaimed: “I can’t believe this. Who ever used this last left everything live!”
Alex knew it was best to leave Hans to play with his new toy. Any attempt to glean any useful information until he was good and ready would be futile.
In the meantime the helicopter had returned and repatriated the commandos and their wounded commander.
The three dead bodyguards were conspicuously stretched out on the front lawn. The helicopter pilot had promised that he would return to collect Alex and Hans and the casualties. “Could be a couple of hours?”
“Just make it before dawn,” Alex politely requested. “Don’t fancy facing the local police with these three dead bodies on display!”