SAS Para-Ops: MEGA SET - SAS Para-Ops Books #1, #2, #3, #4, #5 & #6

by Casey Christie

  The lead sniper called out his commands in a language not understood by an American or Englishman.

  “When I shoot you must all start shooting. First we aim for The Lady and her security bodyguards and her people. Then we must go for women and children first then only at the men. When the Bears come from the parking area we must protect them. They will be slow and the police on their horses and in their cars will try and stop the Bears so we must shoot at them, we must protect the Bears! Spotters, you must see everything for us. We will be focused on the infidels and shooting so you must tell us if there are helicopters or if people see us. You must tell us what is happening around us at all times. And you must give us ammunition.”

  The three shooters, all trained in Somalia, were armed with Russian made 7.62 Dragunov semi-automatic sniper rifles, smuggled into the UK piece by piece. They were old but effective and deadly. The two “spotters” had binoculars and had little training, in truth they were there to get the cover as cleaners and to act as human shields and slaves to the hardened sharpshooters with hate and murder in their hearts.

  One of the spotters looked down at the ground and underneath the entrance to the entertainment arena through his binoculars. He looked from man to man, from woman to woman. Moving slowly back and forth, confirming what he thought he had seen.

  “Tarrak, something.. something is.. something is..” said the young observer.

  “What boy, what is it boy! Spit it out!” said Tarrak the sniper.

  “Something is wrong.”

  “He is right, Tarrak” said the third sniper.

  “He is right about what?!”

  “That something is wrong. Look at the men and women below. They are not of the right age and there are no young people. Also look, it is very empty, it should be a lot busier by now. And there are very few police. Usually they put out a lot of uniformed police for these shows in high visibility. Isn’t that right?” said the third sniper asking the spotter for confirmation.

  “Yes, that is right but that’s not what I meant. Look at the couple directly below drinking coffee, they have something in their ears, and look at the two men next to the café they are in civilian clothes but they have something on their hips, look Tarrak. Something is wrong.”

  Tarrak carefully examined the people below. Both of the men were right. The demographics of the concert goers were wrong, the place was too empty and most worryingly to Tarrak was that almost all of the people he carefully examined through the Dragunov’s scope had earpieces or radios on their waists.

  “What do we do Tarrak? They must know that we are here, they must know what our plans are.”

  Tarrak was not sure of what to do. He didn’t have any form of communication with Eltanin. They knew it would be too risky to use two-way radios – they were too easily intercepted. And they had thrown away all mobile phones a week earlier. Now he knew that their only options were to attack the people who had earpieces, presumably police or military, or to withdraw. And to Tarrak and the other men to withdraw would be worse than death as they knew Eltanin and the other elders would punish them by killing their families back home.

  “We continue as planned. We kill them. If they are police and army then our honour in heaven will be even greater and our virgins even more beautiful. By the will of the great one the Bears will appear soon and will help us kill many.

  “Now fire when I fire and prepare to kill the impure. Aim for the uniforms, women first.”

  Tarrak took a deep breath and looked down his scope. He settled his cross hairs on the light and blonde features of a uniformed police officer sitting on top of her steed. She was talking to a male colleague who also sat on a horse next to her.

  “For The Great One” said Tarrak as he placed his finger on the trigger.

  PHWOOP. PHWOOP.

  PHWOOP.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Four minutes earlier. Gable of the Western Beach Apartments, Royal Victoria Docks. 1KM distance to the Ravensbourne rooftop.

  Sniper scans the Greenwich Peninsula through the A.N.O (Advanced Night Optics) of his rifle.

  He starts at the parking lot and slowly pans his way towards the entrance of the O2.

  He moves his scope over the two large buildings leading in from the car park of the Greenwich Peninsula and quickly but carefully details the rooftops for signs of life. He uses his eye optic’s thermal imaging to ensure that no shooter lies concealed and ready to fire. There are none. He now moves his optics to the point from where he believes the terrorists would strike – the top of the Ravensbourne.

  During his recce of the area earlier on in the day he had identified this as the most likely point a terrorist cell would set up a snipers’ nest. Close enough not to fail but far enough to be out of reach of the local police.

  Sniper thinks about what Mark, the seer, had said earlier:

  “There is going to be another attack Captain, today I think, here or across the water, at the O2, at the arena but I feel the danger or part of it will emanate from this side of the water, from the docks. Somehow.”

  “So you think I’m dangerous. You the banker, and you think I’m the dangerous one. Hmm, Perhaps” said Sniper to himself.

  Sniper brings his mind back to the now and looks through his crosshairs. On top of the Ravensbourne sniper sees the heat signature of four, no, five men – Only three are armed. Lying flat on the ground. One next to the other in one line and only a metre and a half apart.

  Snipers uses his eye optic’s laser range identifier to gauge the exact distance to targets.

  986.04 metres.

  Sniper checks wind, moisture, bullet drop and spin drift.

  He adjusts his weapon’s scope settings then identifies his first target and pre routes his next shot and then the next.

  Sniper takes a deep controlled breath and slows his heart beat

  He aims then slowly, gently begins to squeeze the trigger.

  A powerful cross wind surges across sniper’s line of sight to targets.

  Sniper lets out his breath and inhales fresh air. His hearts starts to beat normally once more and he releases the trigger. He hears Gold Command communicate with Captain Taylor:

  “Your man’s had his window, John. My men are going in. We’ve identified the sniper’s nest and building and a SAS team is ready to breach. Pull your man out.”

  Sniper checks wind, moisture, bullet drop and spin drift.

  He adjusts his weapon’s scope settings, takes a deep breath and once more commands his heart to ease.

  He slowly, gently, purposefully squeezes the trigger.

  The crosswind remains but sniper compensates by firing ambush two lead off of target.

  PHWOOP.

  Then another.

  PHWOOP.

  And finally,

  PHWOOP.

  The three snipers lie dead on the Ravensbourne rooftop. The two unarmed spotters look at each other in total disbelief, they drop their binoculars, get to their feet and run towards the door of the roof. Their escape attempt is futile and Sniper knows it. Once inside they will be met and arrested by a six man SAS squad.

  The shadow’s heart starts to beat normally once more and he lets out a long controlled breath of air and then whispers the shadow’s prayer:

  “As my breath leaves my body so do your spirits leave yours, go well my friends on to your next journey. May God have mercy on your souls, and mine.”

  “Gold. Sierra One. Snipers’ nest is down. Three confirmed. Orders?” said Sniper.

  “Received. Now stand down” said Gold Commander.

  “But what of the ground attack units, Gold?” said Captain John Taylor over the radio system.

  “They are in custody. We tracked and stopped the vehicle at a VCP. Three men and heavy armour and weaponry have been detained. Now you and your men can stand down, Captain. That’s a direct order” said Gold Commander.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Captain John Taylor, Mark Andrews and “Jack” of the SAS
Para-ops unit sit at the Café Rouge outside of the main entrance to the O2 Arena, London.

  “Congratulations Mark. Once more your visions, your ability to see the future have saved the lives of innocent people. Salute” said Taylor while raising his glass of red wine.

  Mark and Jack join in the cheers, each drinking a cold glass of water.

  “The way it played out here certainly is not the way it played out in my vision, thankfully.”

  “So then what you saw was only a possibility of what could have happened. And I think that possibility exists only without your action” said Jack.

  “What do you mean?” said Andrews.

  “They are your visions. And as I understand it you are always a close observer of what is to happen in those visions. You’re always right in the middle of it. Therefore I believe that is your burden – somehow you are shown what will happen if you do not act – that is your curse. You will always have to act. For if you don’t the blood of the innocent will be spilt. On your conscience” said Jack.

  “Whoa, that’s a bit of a trip Katsu. Abit harsh on the man don’t you think” said Taylor.

  “No I don’t think it harsh, I think it’s his reality. It’s his cross to bear and if he doesn’t act on what he sees I am sure it will consume him.”

  “Thanks for the support, Jack, or is it Katsu?”

  “Katsu Takahashi. But for now, just call me Jack.”

  Mark felt a hand on his shoulder. It sent a chill down his spine. He looked up at the man that the appendage belonged to and saw that it was Henry.

  “Good evening gentlemen. It’s been ages” said Henry with a wide smile.

  Henry pulled out a chair and sat at the edge of the table with his back to the wall, in a very similar style to the way Jack had seated himself. He pulled out his pipe and lit it with his zippo.

  “Where have you been?” asked Mark.

  “Very forward aren’t you, banker. Isn’t it polite to offer a new arrival at the table a drink first?”

  “I’ll get the next round, what will you have Henry?” said John.

  “On a fine night like this I think a Spanish Rioja is in order – I take that’s what you are drinking Captain.”

  “Indeed. And I’ll get these rebels some more water.”

  “Now boys, what on earth are we still doing here” said Henry.

  “John knows the Head of Security for the venue. He is going to give us a walk through the venue and introduce us to The Lady. So we’re sticking around for a while” said Mark.

  The red carpet flanked by crash barriers had been set up and eager fans were now lining up each side in the hope of getting a glimpse and photograph of their diva. The show was running 90 minutes late – the venue had released a statement that this was due to “technical difficulties” and compensated ticket holders with a voucher for two free drinks – all at the expense of Her Majesty’s Government who were determined not to let the story of an attempted terrorist attack break in the press.

  A group seated at a table not too far from where Mark now sat caught his attention. He looked closer and saw that it was the people he had seen in his vision: Michael Coote, Giles, Cheryl and her very best friends.

  Mark’s face went white and Henry noticed.

  “What’s wrong old man? You look as though a demon just danced on your puppy’s grave.”

  “You see that table over there. Well that young man is about to put that pretty girl on his shoulders. They’ll then walk over to the red carpet.”

  Jack stirred from his thought and all three men looked to where Mark had pointed.

  A few moments later and as Mark had said the young man got to his knees and he let the lady jump on. With the excited girl on his shoulders Coote then walked over to the crash barriers. The three men looked on in deathly anticipation.

  “And now what happens?” said Henry.

  “In my vision this is the moment when it all happens. The moment it starts. She is shot in the back of the head. People start to run and people start to die.”

  A silence of sick mist now descended upon the table.

  A moment passes and another.

  Then, the girl screams.

  Mark’s hair stands on end and his heart skips a beat.

  The Lady and her entourage are very near now and girls and boys all giggle and scream in delight. Some faint.

  A few moments later and The Lady and her people pass the restaurant on the red carpet and continue into the venue. Michael and Cheryl happily move back to their table. Cheryl is still loud with laughter and delight riding the shoulders of her new found man.

  Captain Taylor returns to the table with the new round of drinks.

  “Did I miss anything?” Taylor says. Then continues: “You all look as though someone just died.”

  The three men look up at him but say nothing.

  “Okay, moving along then. Ronald, you know the HoS for the venue, has been in touch. He says we can go in now and he’ll get us back stage.”

  “Come on then, Captain, let’s get it down us” said Henry while taking his glass. “How exciting, we’re going to meet The Lady!”

  Jack looked thoroughly un-amused

  Chapter Seventeen

  Twenty minutes later after a painstakingly detailed tour of the O2 Arena, John, Mark and Jack led by the venue’s Head of Security arrive at the entrance to the backstage artists’ area. The door is guarded by a smiling man neatly dressed in a black suit and wearing a high visibility jacket.

  Mark is surprised to see the security officer physically stop the Head of Security and ask him for Identification. Ronald produces his badge and the men move in.

  “That’s good to see, Ron” said Taylor.

  “I run a tight ship here, Johnny. Nobody gets in or out without the proper authorisation and everybody gets checked, all of the time. Even me.”

  Henry shoots an amused grin at Jack and Mark.

  “And The Lady? How is her private security detail? I hear that behemoth got the contract, again.”

  “More like a big lump, he is! And he never stops eating. The BG is pretty good but the rest are just thugs.”

  “What’s a BG?” Mark discreetly asks Henry as the men walk through the artists’ area to The Lady’s private dressing room.

  “A BG is a Bodyguard” said Henry. “You see a PSD or Private Security Detail is made up of a TL or Team Leader – the behemoth, it’s usually the TL’s client. And then you have the BG who is with the Principal at all times – her BODY GUARD – he protects the body of the Principal. And then you have the rest of the security detail: driver, venue and advanced detail. What have you learnt since joining this little outfit?”

  “Fitness mainly. And I’ve been clearing my head. Also working on the meds for, you know, for the visions.”

  “And you’ve been drying out too? Anyway I think having a look at the PSD is also one of the reasons the Captain wants us to meet The Lady. You see old chap, the Captain also runs an Executive Protection Firm. That’s what he does, officially.”

  At the door to the private dressing room of The Lady two bald and very large and angry looking men block the entrance and demand to see ID.

  The Head of Security produces his appointment certificate and explains that he is with official government people who have come to wish The Lady well for her performance tonight.

  The two large men, unsure of what to do, radio their boss to come outside. The men wait silently and patiently. A couple of minutes later and a very large and overweight man appears, barely able to fit through the door. Mark notices that he has a kebab in one hand and a radio in the other. Henry’s attention is caught by the man’s very overt diamond-studded earpiece.

  “What do you want old man?” said Robert.

  “Ah, Bobby. How are you? And as polite as ever I see” said Taylor.

  “What do you want?”

  “We’ve come to wish The Lady well for her performance tonight” said Ronald.

  “No.
She’s not seeing anyone. Go away.”

  “Look Robert this is my venue and I’m..”

  “Yeah, you’re the Head of Security and I’m the Head of I don’t give a fuck! Now piss off old man! And take your puppies with you.”

  Big Bobby storms back inside and slams the door shut, giving his men instructions not to let anyone in other than the flower delivery guys. Ronald turns red with anger and is about to say something when John stops him.

  “It’s okay Ron. I’m not a fan anyway and I have seen enough. And I need another drink, c’mon fella lets go catch up, shall we.”

  The four men walk away, out of the backstage area and into a long corridor leading towards the main concourse.

  Mark suddenly stops in his tracks.

  “Something’s wrong.”

  An image flashes in his mind of four men carrying a massive bouquet of flowers.

  “Four men, uniforms..”

  “The flower men. I pinged them as well. They just went back stage” said Henry.

  “What?” said John and Ronald simultaneously.

  “The Lady is in danger. We need to get to her dressing room, now” said Mark.

  John looks at Jack.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay let’s go, we’ll get you in.”

  All the men, except Henry, run back towards The Lady’s private quarters.

  “I’ll see you all at the bar a little later. I’m not very good close up” shouts Henry.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The SAS Para-Ops men run backstage. They hear four suppressed gunshots. As they arrive at The Lady’s door they find the two bouncers dead on the floor, each shot twice, once in the head and once in the chest. The door also has a number of bullet holes through it. One of Ronald’s high visibility venue security officers at the scene tells his superior what happened.

  “Boss, it was the flower delivery guys. They had the proper creds so I let them back stage but something spooked me about them so I followed here. The Lady’s guys let them in but then one of them got suspicious too, I think and as they entered he grabbed one of them. That’s when they shot him and the other one. I tried to follow them in but they shot through the door and they have blocked it with furniture” said the Security Officer.