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

by Casey Christie

  “It couldn’t be..”

  As the thought escaped his mind he heard the unmistakable sound of a person turn on their heels and begin to quickly walk away. Mark instinctively opened the door -- he had to be sure, and he had been right. His visitor had stopped and was now turning to face him. The turn seemed to take an eternity but the end result was worth the wait.

  Ayla.

  Her eyes seemed to burn into his and then he noticed her eyes move away from his and begin to scan his body, first moving down his large frame to his legs and then again slowly back up taking extra care to take in his impressive physique, his almost-six-pack and large defined chest garnering extra attention.

  Shit! I forgot I’ve only got a bloody towel on! he thought.

  In his hunger for food Mark had jumped straight out of bed, into the shower and out again quickly drying himself with the only towel the flat had and had forgotten the part where most people put on clothes and had got straight to work on his breakfast.

  “Lucky me” said Ayla while smiling the most seductive smile Mark thought he had ever seen. And then Mark felt his face burn. Blush must have been an understatement.

  “Perhaps this is a bad time” said Ayla looking a little embarrassed and perhaps guilty too. She turned on her heels to walk away wishing she hadn’t come and embarrassed the poor man while at the same time taking a mental photograph of what she had just seen.

  Without much conscious thought Mark moved forward quickly and took hold of Ayla’s right arm and turned her around into him. As he did this the small pink towel that had been covering his manhood fell away, fully exposing his naked body.

  Ayla, being a petite lady of only 5.5ft looked up into Mark’s eyes while safely secure between his powerful arms, shoulders and chest. A shiver ran down her spine and the smallest of breaths escaped her mouth, she bit her lip.

  Mark looked down at the tiny Kurdish beauty he now had in his grip and lost himself momentarily in her deep dark features and burning eyes. He was brought back to the moment as he felt the gentle soft hand of Ayla caress his manhood. He stood to attention and enjoyed the sensation for just a moment before gently but firmly picking Ayla up by placing his left forearm under her buttocks and lifting her up as she put her legs around his waist. He turned as she giggled and walked back into his abode still holding his love, he closed the door with the back of his leg and called out to young Razi who he had seen through the corner of his eye standing behind Ayla holding his tea “Come back in an hour Razi!”.

  “Better make it two” called out Ayla in Kurdish with a devilish grin and an angelic voice.

  Chapter Two – Rapid Reaction Force

  Rahat Lokum Café Turkey – Near the Syrian border. 13:36 PM.

  “Sorry we’re late, we uh, got a bit tied up” said Mark as he led Ayla into the shaded outside area of the beautiful tea garden that was to be the venue of the team’s last hoorah before heading home to always sunny Blighty.

  “Or at least I did” added Ayla in barely a whisper.

  “What was that, Ayla?” asked Ayla’s direct commander, Captain Rojya Buthin.

  Captain John Taylor who sat opposite the Kurdish Captain at the large round table with his men either side of him heard the exchange and smiled as he saw Mark blush and quickly look around the table for any excuse to move the conversation on. Ayla grinned as she met each man’s eye and greeted them.

  “Busy morning, ay, Mark?” said Taylor.

  “Uh, yeah, that little Razi was over again this morning with that tea you like, here,” Mark said as he pulled the small tin of fine tea out of his backpack and gave it to his Captain.

  “Ah, thank you! You’ve had some as well I hope?” said Taylor while appreciatively taking hold of the prized gift.

  “Indeed, Ayla had some with me this morning, delicious! Lads, how are you?” said Andrews to Lance Corporal Daniel “Danny” Jones, Corporal William West and his very good friend Sergeant Henry Lee.

  Both Danny and William lifted a pint and said “Bloody perfect mate!” in unison. Then cheered each other as great minds thinking alike.

  Sniper Lee was slower to respond and almost inaudible but Mark could have sworn he had said he wished he had also been tied up that morning.

  “What was that?” said Andrews while feeling his face begin to warm once more.

  “You heard me. Anyway we’ll be back in London soon enough and I’ll be able to… take care of my needs.”

  Since the assassination of Sam Collins at the Pleasure Palace all the men stationed in Turkey and Syria under Colonel Walter Brow’s command had been restricted from making use of any of the gentlemanly services on offer, including the men of the SAS Para-Ops unit, to their chagrin.

  Both Danny and William raised their glasses once more to their Sergeant’s statement and downed another mouthful of beer.

  After Mark had finally settled into his seat and had himself and Ayla a drink, both just a glass of sparkling water, he looked to his Captain and asked what next.

  “After the Brussels attack we are on high alert and our timing couldn’t be more fortuitous. I have been waiting for something to happen and it’s about to…” said Taylor while taking another long sip of his double whisky on the rocks.

  “Deployment on to the streets of London?” ventured Sniper Lee.

  “Ay.”

  “Do you have any solid Intel on a planned attack, Captain?” asked Ayla.

  “More than we care to acknowledge, but, it’s the capability of the attackers that is more important and that is the info we have not yet been able to confirm.”

  “So the logical next step is deployment to the streets just in case?” put in Captain Rojya Buthin.

  “A bit more than that, Captain. I have been pushing for the development of a Rapid Reaction Force for some time now and after the Brussels attack I have finally been given the green light! Now the really hard part of putting it all together begins. We’re going to have to get the balance of operating undercover in a completely civilian environment while still being fully combat ready, just right, or the suits in power will get their panties in a twist and pull us off the streets faster than you can say Refugees will never commit acts of terror!” said Taylor.

  All eyes raised at the Captain’s final words, including those of Ayla’s Mark had noted.

  “Well, for now let’s just enjoy our final hours here and off duty, shall we, boss?” said Lee.

  “Ay, let’s. And while you’re at it get me another drink will you, Sergeant!” snapped Taylor.

  Mark stood and gestured to Ayla to follow.

  Chapter Three – Soft Target

  Mark realised that something heavy must have been being weighing on his friend’s mind. The John Taylor he knew was always careful to speak respectfully to his men.

  Mark and Ayla reached the end of the long garden and found a small bench under a large tree and both took their seats, careful to angle themselves out of view of any prying eyes.

  “I have never seen the Captain look so concerned before, Mark. Do you think he knows something we don’t?” asked Ayla.

  “Of course he does, Ayla. It is the burden of command – to know that which most men would not want to know or do not need to know. But whatever it is it must be something big because for as long as I have known the man he has had his secrets…”

  “Do you think it has something to do with the horrific attacks in Brussels?” said Ayla.

  “Well the timing would suggest so.”

  The two paused momentarily and Ayla noticed Mark angle his face towards the sun and take in a deep breath while smiling.

  “Why do you English people worship the sun so much? It is as though you have never seen it before or like a camel finding water in the desert.”

  “Haha, you have always known the sun, you have always known its glory and you probably complain about it but in England it is different, very different. The only Sun we know that will come out each day is a tabloid newspaper. so when we feel th
e actual sun’s warmth on our skin it is something not to be taken for granted.”

  “I suppose you are right, we as humans only really want what we can not have and take for granted that which we already do have.”

  At her last words Ayla felt Mark’s hand move over hers and give it a gentle squeeze.

  “Ayla, you are Muslim, so tell me, how can people carry out such evil acts of violence and destruction such as bombing, shooting and beheading innocent people all in the name of a religion. And more specifically the religion of Islam?”

  Ayla looked both surprised and angry at Mark’s directness and question. She withdrew her hand from Mark’s and turned and looked into the distance.

  A few moments passed and Mark was about to apologise when Ayla finally looked at him and said:

  “You should educate yourself more about the Quran, Mark. All non-Muslims should.”

  Once again she turned away from him.

  “Okay, I will. As soon as I get home, I shall go to my local library and get myself a copy! Now let’s talk about something else and enjoy our final hours together before… well before you come and visit me in England?” said Mark hopefully trying to sound positive and confident.

  “Like how we will go for walks along the Thames..” Mark began but before he could finish his sentence Ayla put a finger to his lips to silence him and simply said: “Surah 9, Mark Andrews, that is all you and the rest of the world need to know about the Quran. Chapter 9 is..”

  An instant later and a massive noise erupted from the street entrance of the Rahat Lokum Café followed immediately by a huge force that shook the very foundations of the building and blew shrapnel, glass and debris out of the back of the Café and through the garden towards where Mark and Ayla sat. Mark gasped as he saw the full force of the large explosion smack into his brothers of the SAS Para-Ops Unit.

  They were under attack.

  Adrenaline kicked in and time slowed, his vision narrowed and he could no longer hear anything. His immediate instinct was to protect Ayla. He looked to her and as quickly as he could he took her in his arms and as gently as he could got both of them to the ground and under the bench that they had only moments ago been sitting on.

  While still shielding Ayla with his body he angled his head towards where his brothers had been sitting and what he saw sent a chill through his body. All the men of the SAS Para-Ops Team were on the ground covered in fragments of glass, shrapnel and bloodstains. More worryingly was that four men wearing black fatigues and balaclavas were walking directly to the table and each held an AK47 Assault Rifle in his hands. As they passed civilians effected by the blast that were sitting at tables within the restaurant they paused momentarily and put the muzzles of their weapons to the victims’ heads and blew their brains out. One, then two, then a third and another.

  Mark tore his eyes away from the gruesome scene and looked once more to his comrades – none of them moved.

  “Enough!” Mark thought to himself, he had seen enough and had enough pre-warning, time and information to alert the team to the imminent attack. With an incredible amount of thought and effort Mark willed himself to return to the present so that he could warn his commander of the imminent attack -- just as he had done all that time ago while sitting under the skyscrapers of Canary Wharf.

  “Wake up, damn it!” Wake up, damn it man!” Mark said aloud to himself again and again until eventually he felt a sharp slap against his face. He opened his eyes and saw Ayla looking at him, concern written all over her face.

  “It is happening, Mark, it is happening right now!” she said, her eyes silently pleading for him to come to his senses.

  “But I would know beforehand, I should know beforehand, that is the very reason I am here and a part of this team! It is my gift, my curse!” said Andrews.

  Ayla now looking desperate took a deep breath turned Mark towards her and held him by the shoulders.

  “No Mark, you are more than that. You are trained in weapons and tactics and you have worked alongside these men for many years now. Whether this is or is not happening right at this very moment we have to respond to it as though it is. We need to act, we are their only chance” said Ayla while pointing behind Mark to where Taylor and his men were now all prone on the ground.

  Ayla’s face went as pale as a sheet of paper and her breath caught in her lungs. Mark saw her eyes rise up until she stopped. Mark instinctively knew what she was looking at and as carefully as possible he rolled on his shoulders to turn and see the barrel of the AK47 only centimetres away from Ayla’s face.

  “Look who we have here” snarled the masked terrorist. “The Western Seer and his Muslim bitch!”

  Chapter Four – Caged

  Mark awoke at first peacefully and then it all flooded back to him – the bomb blast and the attack at the Tea Garden. He opened his eyes but still it was dark. He strained his body and tried to swing his legs from his bed and sit up but his legs hit something hard almost at once and as he sat up his head smashed into something else and sent him crashing backwards.

  Sheer terror flooded through Mark Andrews’ body and soul.

  But to his surprise and before panic assumed control his training kicked in and he closed his eyes and took in deep sharp breaths through his nose and out his mouth. Again and again until he found his heart rate settle.

  “Okay, first orientate myself” he thought.

  He reached out with his hands and was shaken to find he could extend neither arm more than elbows length out before he came across the structure that was confining him. He reached out slowly and touched the material first with the palms of his hands and then dug at it with his finger nails and scratching it. It was not metal and then he felt it splinter just a fraction and some tiny debris fell onto his forehead. It was wood. He extended his arm horizontally upwards and found another wall only centimetres from his head and pushed down moving his body mere fractions before he felt his feet hit another barrier. He didn’t move and for all he was worth he did not want to acknowledge what he was in..

  A coffin.

  After what felt like an eternity of being deathly motionless Mark’s escape and evade training kicked in once more... or at least he thought that was what was happening.

  Now think! I’m in a coffin or a coffin-like structure and the last thing I remember was the bomb blast at the tea garden and the terrorist standing over us.. yes.. that’s right! And he knew… he knew who we were!!

  Panic took hold of the former fat banker Mark Andrews and he felt his world begin to crumble once more. He began to kick maniacally at the bottom of the structure imprisoning him the he banged his closed fists against the top of the structure. A scream like sound left his lungs and exited his mouth and he wailed in terror, frustration, fear and anger.

  The civilian special psychic consultant to the SAS Paranormal Activity Group continued in this vein for some time.

  “Special indeed, Andrews!” said a mocking voice.

  Mark stopped kicking, punching and screaming.

  “What was that, who’s there?! Who the bloody hell said that?!”

  There was no reply. Only silence. Darkness.

  He began to kick and scream once more for what else was a sane man to do in such an insane situation?

  “Men of my unit are trained to handle insane situations, Andrews! You were trained for this!” boomed the voice once more.

  “Captain, John, is that you??” cried out Andrews in hope and confusion.

  There was no reply. Only the sound of Mark’s heart beating rapidly in his chest.

  Chapter Five – Executive Outcomes

  Ops HQ of the US Military on the Turkish/Syrian border, near Kobane.

  Colonel Walter Brow of the United States Army sat behind his desk hurriedly barking orders to two of his soldiers when there was a sharp knock knock on the door.

  “Wait!” commanded the Colonel.

  “Now, you two, find me where the bloody hell they have taken those hostages within the n
ext 12 hours or I swear on the grave of John Wayne I’ll cut your fucking balls off and feed them to my wife’s fucking poodle! Now get out!”

  The two men saluted, turned on their heels and made for the door but before they reached it it was opened and standing on the other side was General Yusuf Khan of the Iraqi National Army. The bear of a General affectionately nicknamed Bull by those lucky enough to call him friend glared at the sitting Colonel and then almost imperceptibly nodded towards the two soldiers hurriedly making their way out.

  “Wait!” said the Colonel before clearing his throat and then continued. “Gentlemen. Please forgive my temper. I am just..”

  But before he continued one of the soldiers politely interrupted him “It’s okay boss, we’re fond of them as well and we care as much as you. They’re our brothers, our British brothers. And the Kurds too. We’ll do everything we can, sir!”

  The Colonel nodded silently and put his hands together, elbows on his desk and looked straight ahead.

  Now the other solider who had been quiet until this point said: “Um Colonel, given the um unique circumstances and the fact that we um, shouldn’t really be here anymore, would it be okay to green light ‘Black Hands’?”

  The Colonel had on a thousand yard stare and seemed not to hear the soldier then seconds later came around and looked up and said quietly:

  “Jesus Christ.. I forgot he was still here. Yes. Whatever it takes. If they want a brutal no holds barred war then that is exactly what we are going to give them. But Joey, make sure he doesn’t go too far.”

  “Too far, sir? Black Hands is too far.”

  And without another word the two US warriors turned and left but not before saluting the Iraqi General as they passed – something that had nothing to do with military law or protocol and everything to do with mutual respect.

  Bull closed the door and pulled a seat from opposite the United States commander.

  “Why is it you look just as bloody under pressure as John did the last time I saw him. What do you two know that I do not, Colonel?”