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

by Casey Christie

  Now van Persie looks nervous and unsure, seemingly his confidence has been shattered.

  He takes a deep breath, the entire United contingent around Andrews seem to breathe with their beloved Forward. He prepares himself once more then steps onward and strikes the ball, beats the keeper to his right but the ball hits the inner post and runs along the line toward the other post, the entire stadium holds its breath, the ball spins and slowly crosses the line, it’s in.

  Manchester United 1 Manchester City 0.

  "Oh Robin van Persie!"

  "Oh Robin van Persie!"

  "Oh Robin van Persie!"

  “He knocks it in the net, all day long. He's knocking them in and we're singing his song. All the Arsenal fans they miss his feet, moaning on their twitter going tweet, tweet, tweet! Rockin Robin... rock, rock, Rocking Robin.. rock, rock.. Goooo Rockin Robin, he's gonna bang them in tonight! We all have to sing it and dance too... like idiots, especially against the Arsenal. Also, Van United, Van United, Olayyy olayyy olayyy... Also... Van Persie. Woahhh. He went to Man Utd and he won them all…”

  Ten minutes later and the referee blows his whistle for half time.

  Mark Andrews finds himself walking alongside the players as they head toward the tunnel. He feels a slap on his shoulder and turns to find a happy Patrice Evra smiling at him.

  “What the hell is going on, my visions have never been like this before, so… ‘unreal’” Andrews thinks to himself.

  He continues to walk with the contingent of football stars and now notices the arm of the formidable Nemanja Vidic around his shoulder.

  As they are about to enter the tunnel a gang of youths, the same group that got Andrews’s attention earlier on, storm the pitch . Mark notices a steward in a high visibility jacket fall to the ground in front of them and hears a shallow bang

  They are headed straight for the tunnel, more stewards and police officers fall, bang, bang, more loud noises accompany the falling men.

  Within seconds the group have surrounded the tunnel and blocked the entrance. Police officers and security officials battle to keep the attackers at bay, more fall.

  Mark looks on with astonishment as he hears people scream and shout, run and fall. He feels fear, real terror and once more thinks to himself how can this be, this is unlike any of the premonitions he has had before – he knows it’s not really happening and therefore he shouldn’t have any reason to be fearful. Or should he?

  The group of young men head straight toward him. He cowers in fear and falls to his knees and raises his arms above his head in a defensive gesture.

  Suddenly there is silence, a deafening crushing silence that leaves Andrews robbed of any breath or heartbeat. He looks up and sees that everyone around him is now still and looking directly at him. Half a dozen of the peculiar football fans that had stormed the pitch earlier, close in on him in a tight circle – they raise their hands and in them Mark notices small white pistol-shaped objects.

  One terrorist, the eldest of the bunch, a dark skinned menacing man, steps towards the suited banker and raises this white pistol shaped object.

  “You cannot save them all, you can’t even save yourself.”

  He places the object against the temple of the Banker who can see the future and click,

  BANG.

  Mark Andrews’s head explodes, blood splatters onto the floor and his lifeless body falls limp to the ground. A rag doll in the dust.

  Chapter Five

  Reiko Takahashi dabs a cold wet cloth along the forehead of the SAS Paranormal Activity Tactical Operations Group Seer, Mark Andrews, the Special Force Unit’s own Oracle.

  “What is happening to him, Reiko?” said Captain John Taylor.

  “He stopped breathing, his heart stopped beating momentarily, it’s returned now but his pulse is slow and his breathing is shallow, Captain, whatever he has seen he has felt it as well.”

  “But how is that possible, what he is experiencing is not real, it’s a vision of the future? Isn’t it?”

  “The brain is a very powerful thing, Captain. If he believes what he has seen is real then...well, then it could very well be real, to him” she said.

  “And don’t forget, John, as per your orders we had given him a rather large dose of adelirium” said Doctor James in a thick Scottish intonation.

  “Needs must when the devil drives, Doctor” said Taylor.

  “Well what would you like us to do now? He has been in a dream state for eight days now, this last episode nearly killed him.”

  “Has he seen, has he seen their next point of attack?”

  “It’s a safe bet he has, whatever he has seen caused his heart to stop and besides we have had him under for far too long. We need to bring him back” said the Doctor.

  Captain John Taylor thought about the situation, it was risky to bring his prophet out of the deep sleep if he hadn’t yet seen the event, the terrorist attack that Taylor and MI6 know is coming but not where or when. To leave him under for too long could risk the life of his friend but because of the high amount of vision inducing drugs administered he knows Mark will awake with a strong mental hangover and without the ability to see for days, if not weeks. This was the only chance to see the event before it actually happened.

  “Okay, bring him back, administer whatever it is you need to administer to wake him up. But not here, not in this facility. It will be too much for him. Too dramatic. Reiko, would you mind taking him to your place, to your village, to stay a little while, to recover and to tell us what he has seen. And then with Katsu’s permission I would like him to train. To learn the art of the gun and to train with Katsu and his Gunfighters.”

  Chapter Six

  Katsu Takahashi sat in a low chair at the foot of the bed where Mark Andrews lay in a deep and troubled, restless sleep. His diminutive wife, Reiko, stood over Mark, wiping his forehead with a damp cloth.

  “He’ll be awake soon, Kat. And I have to return to the facility, two troopers have been brought in with gunshot wounds. Please stay with him, he’ll be confused and disoriented when he wakes up.”

  “I’ll be here” said Katsu.

  With that Reiko placed the wet cloth in a bowl next to the bed, kissed her husband on the forehead and went outside to a waiting Jeep.

  Katsu rose from his chair, moved it out of the way and sat on the floor in the lotus position and began to meditate. He knew the wait for the seer to wake from his long and traumatic sleep may take some time.

  About an hour later and Katsu was brought out of his contemplation by a loud gasping for air and Mark Andrews sitting bolt upright in his bed. Katsu calmly stood up and walked over to the side of the bedstead and silently looked at his house guest.

  “Where am I?” whispered Mark Andrews.

  “My home.”

  “Katsu? Is that you? Why am I here?”

  “Yes, it is me. And you are here because John wished it so.”

  “Where is he? And why would he want me to be here and where is here?”

  Katsu placed two pillows behind Mark’s back and gestured for him to sit up and lean backwards. He walked over to a table which held some glasses and a jug of water, poured a glass and gave it to his pale and weak visitor.

  “You are in my home, near enough the Chiran District, Japan. Captain Taylor wanted you to be here because you have been through a very traumatic time, Mark. May I inquire as to what is the last thing you remember?”

  Mark drank slowly and thoughtfully from his glass. And then after careful consideration decided he would answer Katsu’s questions as clearly as he could.

  “My last memory of actual events was with you and John in the Docklands in London, after we stopped the attack.”

  “That’s good, we had just met and were discussing things, your memory appears to be fine, please go on.”

  “No, I do remember what happened after that. You and the killers, the terrorists that tried to kill the Lady in her dressing room, you were astonishing, you killed them a
ll.”

  Mark noted a look of sudden bemusement register on Katsu’s face.

  “What, what did I say?” said Mark.

  “No it’s nothing just, please continue, tell me everything as you remember it.”

  “You killed the men with your guns and saved her. After the initial attack, after the sniper killed the first men. We went back stage with John, he knew the head of security and we wanted to meet the Lady. But her bodyguards wouldn’t let us in. So we left, but on the way back we noticed the attackers, the terrorists, in disguise, and you went in and, well, you shot them all.”

  Katsu pulled up the chair and sat down, obviously deep in thought. There was a long silence. And Mark spoke once more.

  “What Katsu, what is it, please tell me?”

  Still Katsu sat silently as though far away in thought and contemplation. Just when Mark was about to speak again, growing more and more frustrated, Katsu finally began to communicate.

  “After the concert at the O2 arena you had what we can only assume was some type of seizure, which we believe was brought on by your visions. You collapsed. John had you taken to a local hospital in East London then he flew you to a military hospital in the country. Three days ago you were brought here to Japan. In fact you were transported to a facility near Okinawa. And then finally this afternoon you were brought here.”

  “But I don’t understand, I was fine, I remember everything quite clearly, well up until right now. But other than that my memory is clear, crystal clear.”

  “You see Mark, that’s just it. Your memory of what happened in London that day is an illusory one.”

  “What are you talking about, I remember it as though it was yesterday. I remember Henry, the sniper or whatever the hell he is and you and your guns, how else would I have known that you are a warrior, a gunfighter?”

  “Perhaps you viewed a possibility of the future or perhaps your mind made up the memory as a construct of what you perceived about me. Yes, you are right. I am a warrior and I do use pistols. But that day in London, at the Arena, there was not a single shot fired. Not by us and not by any of the terrorists, Mark. Your vision of what was going to happen allowed the British Intelligence and Security services to apprehend the men before they even came close to those docks. The concert went off as planned and no one ever knew that there was ever a threat.”

  Mark turned even whiter, his blood drained from his face and he felt weak once more. Katsu helped him to lie down, placing his head and shoulders squarely on the pillows. Mark just lay there staring at the intricately crafted wooden ceiling. For his entire life he had battled with the visions of the future and for a time they disappeared completely and he led a relatively normal life as a banker in the city. The apparitions he experienced were difficult to deal with but never had he confused real life with a vision after the fact.

  He spoke once more in barely a whisper. “So… so I imagined it all? Meeting Henry and then you at the hotel, the ride over the river in the cable cars, the attack, the dinner at the restaurant and then the final gunfight in the dressing room?”

  “No, not all of it, it seems only up to where we boarded the cable cars. That all did happen, we met for the first time. Then you had an argument with John, you were unhappy with the way things had turned out, with him tracking you and arranging your chance meeting. Do you remember that?”

  “Yes, yes I do quite clearly. I wanted to hit him, I felt betrayed and then…”

  “Yes John and then you passed out and now you are here.”

  Katsu left his guest to rest and consider the news as he went into the kitchen and prepared some green tea. He returned a few minutes later carrying a tray with the warm drinks. He was about to speak when he noticed that the troubled seer had fallen asleep once more.

  Chapter Seven

  South East London, England.

  Captain John Taylor and two plain clothed SAS troopers sit in an unmarked nondescript Land Rover on a busy street. The car’s windows are tinted black.

  “That’s their vehicle, the Honda” said the driver, pointing down the road.

  A red Honda Accord pulled up and parked in a vacant lot down and across from where the Captain and his men sat and watched on the busy street.

  “How long have you had them under surveillance?” asked the SAS Captain.

  “Three days and they always come here, we eyeballed them within two hours of breaking Eltanin.”

  “Eltanin, don’t mention that bastard’s name!”

  “Bastard perhaps but he’s one tough son of a bitch. The waterboarding had no effect on him, only when we used… shall we say more archaic methods on him did he tell us of this cell.”

  “Careful Geordie, it almost sounds as though you admire the scum” said Taylor.

  “From a professional counter interrogation point of view I do, I know most special forces men would have broken sooner, waterboarding is a bitch, aint it Terry?” said Geordie while looking in the rear view mirror at the soldier seated behind Taylor.

  “Fuck you, you bloody cunt, Geordie, I never said a word, it was the American SF who told the ragheads everything! And you bloody know it, you muppet.”

  Geordie smirked, knowing full well that his friend had never broken his silence while under interrogation in Iraq during Desert Storm.

  “Now, now Terry, you know how I feel about foul language – it’s foul. While I am in this car you will keep a civil tongue” said the Captain.

  “Yeah boss, it’s just you know how I feel about that .. episode.”

  “Yes we do, and we also all know that you never said a word to the enemy.”

  Two young men exited the red Honda, looked around cautiously and walked into a dilapidated warehouse with an old sign above the entrance that read: 24 hours service guaranteed.

  “They look like hoods not terrorists.”

  “I know, it doesn’t add up, they don’t fit the usual profile. But we’ve tracked them from their home in Stratford to here each day and back again. And they’re definitely up to something.”

  “Probably drugs. They look like stock standard pushers to me” said Terry.

  “So what you are saying then, you daft prick, is that Eltanin resisted waterboarding only to break when we fried… when we used enhanced techniques, to tell us about some crack dealers! Who’s the muppet?” said Geordie.

  “Yeah but it still doesn’t add up as you say you c..”

  “Gentleman please, save the banter for when I am not here. Do we have eyes-on inside?”

  “Yeah, we installed some wireless optics last night and that also doesn’t add up, there was no security, no dogs, no trips, nothing” said Geordie.

  Geordie opened the vehicle’s cubby hole and produced a mobile viewing monitor which he turned on and flicked open. On the screen the men watched as the suspected terrorists walked into the 24 hours service guaranteed building and moved across what looked like a workshop and into a back office and closed the door.

  “Turn to the camera in the office” said Taylor.

  Geordie anxiously scratched his head and began to mumble something.

  “Well this is where it does begin to add up boss. We, we, well Terry couldn’t get in the office to fit a camera in there..”

  “Fuck you, you wanker... um sorry boss, I meant to say asshole… I could get into the office but it was too risky to place the eye” said Terry.

  “Too risky, why?”

  “Because it’s completely free of any electronics whatsoever, even electrical points.”

  “So they would’ve easily been able to detect any devices. Now that sounds like our boys here have been schooled by the Afghans…”

  “Yeah boss, exactly. I couldn’t risk it.”

  “Or the bloody Pakis” said Geordie.

  “So you deployed our tech then, Terry - Tell me about the office and the building.”

  “Um, yeah boss, of course I did, that’s why they call me Techie Terry!” said the soldier with a wide smile obviously wait
ing for a laugh, that didn’t come.

  “Go on.”

  “As I said the back office is clear of any electronics and is about eight by nine feet in size. The rest of the building, the shop floor is a printing press. You know mostly leaflets and menus for the local restaurants. It’s nothing special and nothing that raised a red flag. I checked most of the machines myself, and they’re not bodies for anything else and no naughty equipment either.”

  Naughty equipment meant explosive-making devices.

  “You said only most of the machines, why only most.”

  “Because boss there was one machine delivered yesterday, a large one, we saw it being brought in. It’s still in its unopened container so I couldn’t risk tampering with it but we heard the workers say they’ll install it today, it looks like another printer, more modern though. Top of the line kit I heard them saying.”

  “Is that it, anything else I should know before I leave?”

  “Off already boss, but you just got here?” said Geordie.

  “Yes, I have a meeting at South Bank with the suits. Then later I must return to Japan - The seer has regained consciousness.”

  “MI6 HQ, boring, better you than me, boss. Seer? Ooh, is that your Houdini then boss, the banker that can predict the future” said Terry

  “Predict the future my arse…” mumbled Geordie.

  “He has visions, he is not a psychic or a fortune teller and professes to be nothing of the kind. In fact his ability is a curse to him and it’s only become more of a burden. Partly or perhaps greatly by my own doing. Katsu says he’s had another vision of an attack. Here in London, so I must find out the details.”

  “Why is he with Kat, boss? Surely you’re not thinking of allowing him to train with them, with the gunfighters, are you?” asked Geordie, looking staggered by the possibility.