The Black Hand Gang

by David Edwards

  Jack owned up to a rumble with the local bully but admitted it was harmless rolling around on the floor until they both got tired.

  The sergeant gave his first piece of advice. ‘That’s a good place to start. Number one – stay on your feet and face the opponent. Number two – circle around him whilst poised on the balls of your feet so that you are ready to attack or defend.’

  ‘Number three’ said Jack, ‘pull out a gun and shoot the baddie.’

  Sergeant Sargent wagged an admonishing finger at him. ‘No, young man. Definitely not that. Once you pull a gun, we say that you must use it.’ They waited expectantly for him to continue. ‘Have you ever killed anyone George?’ Jack stood sheepishly. ‘Precisely boy. It is not a trivial thing, nothing like these stupid computer games make out. Killing someone is the last resort. Okay?’

  ‘Yes sergeant.’ All five were learning how serious the training was going to be.

  Marshall spoke up. He had a timid voice, he was a weak looking boy for his age and his voice complimented his demeanour and physique. ‘I’ve seen a boy stabbed in the stairwells under our flat in London. It was a gang that did it and so the boy told his brother and his brother’s gang had guns.’

  The sergeant quietly asked him ‘was there any trouble?’

  ‘No sir, the police came just in time and separated the gangs but two youths were put in jail “cos” they were over 18.’

  ‘That is what should happen in an open and normal society but where you may end up, well it could be dog eat dog and laws and the police don’t apply.’ Wolf passed out five large kit bags and told the children to open them. Inside were an assortment of clothes, they appeared to be cycling trousers and full sleeved T-shirts. The clothes were black and made of a fine mesh that had a spring to it when they put the clothes on over their underpants. Kit Kat had disappeared behind the tree to maintain her privacy but soon they were all dressed with the new tight fitting clothes lying beneath their jeans and shirts.

  Wolf stood with his arms crossed. ‘The clothes I have given you are in fact a specialist suit. The latest in body armour that improves your strength 100 per cent. Think about it. A child of 12 becomes a killing machine as if aged 20.’

  ‘Cool,’ said Jack.

  ‘Fabtastic,’ said Timmo.

  ‘And very tight,’ said Roger.

  ‘But definitely not my style and not my colour,’ said Kit Kat.

  ‘Watch and learn.’ Wolf sidled around the sergeant and taunted him. ‘So you’ve been an SAS trainer for 30 years. That makes you a bit old for this sort of thing.’ Wolf and the sergeant were smiling at each other, they had known each other for many years.

  The sergeant moved in a circle keeping his distance from Wolf. His voice was deadly quiet. ‘You see children, lesson one is to upset or distract the opposition so that they make a mistake.’ Wolf rushed him and within two seconds, it was Wolf who was flat on his back on the mat, with the sergeant’s hand above his windpipe and poised ready to make a fateful chop. ‘Do you really remember any of your training Wolf? Maybe working in the office has made you a little soft!’ He reached out a hand and helped the agent to stand.

  Wolf brushed himself down. ‘I remember you are the best there is...and that is why the children are here with you.’

  The sergeant turned to the children and said ominously ‘but even if any of you can beat me, it still means there is someone better than you out there.’

  Roger spoke. ‘Your point is?’ This was one of his dad’s favourite expressions.

  Kate interrupted, ‘his point is very simple Roger, don’t be too cocky.’

  ‘That is correct young lady and think harder than you have ever thought before by asking The Reason.’

  Kate queried. ‘What’s The Reason sergeant?’

  ‘Some call it God or Allah, The Buddha, whatever god - it is your choice kids. I’m an atheist but I believe in a higher being, hence The Reason’. They were all silent for a minute staring at the leaves on the trees above them as they rustled in the early autumn wind. Odd colours, brown and yellow but all crinkled as they floated to the ground. They could feel The Reason, that something that is good that you can never understand. They just hoped it would be there when they needed it.

  The rest of the morning was spent learning to disable an opponent. The children got used to the power suits, which gave them a sense of security. Wolf and the sergeant showed the children some basic tricks to use in a fight and this particularly impressed Roger. Unlike Jack who had been Victor Ludorum at school, he had always felt physically inadequate. However, as he leaped 1.5 metres into the air to kick Wolf in the chest, he was elated. The power suits were an amazing invention and he quietly pledged to take it home with him, not realising he would need to wear it on the mission.

  * * *

  The boys were starting to like each other. It was late that afternoon and everyone was excited but getting very tired. Sergeant Sargent was 100 metres away at the end of the aerial ropeway and Wolf was on the platform above their heads. He was securing Kit Kat’s harness to the pulley that she would hold onto as she was sliding down the taut rope to where the sergeant stood.

  Jack was pushing Roger against Timmo and Timmo was pushing Marshall against Roger. Jack mimicked the sergeant as best he could but he wasn’t beefy, broad and 45 years old. ‘Come at me without your glasses on you Toff. Come on splodger, if you want, you can take your glasses off and fight me like a man.’ Roger pushed Jack and missed, falling over in the process.

  Roger sat on his bottom on the soft grass. ‘I realised after luncheon’ he said, ‘that the sarge probably eats his baked beans with the can included. In fact, I bet at breakfast he can manage four shredded wheat.’

  Marshall took the Mickey. ‘Luncheon? One doesn’t eat beans at luncheon as it would make one frat.’ All the boys laughed as a scream was heard from above them. Kate had closed her eyes and launched herself away from the platform and into the air suspended 5 metres off the ground. Now the scream faded as she swooped between the trees before hitting the tyre that stopped the pulley with a jerk. She opened her eyes and smiled at the sergeant stood below her.

  ‘See my dear, nothing to it!’ He climbed the rungs of the ladder at the side of the anchor tree and slowly let her down. Immediately she was safe he signalled up to Wolf by criss-crossing his arms. Wolf started to pull in the lazy rope on the pulley and it gradually moved back to the start point.

  Wolf shouted to the boys below him. ‘George, you’re next.’

  ‘Watch this boys.’ Jack climbed to the platform and his harness was fastened to the pulley.

  ‘Go’ said Wolf and Jack threw himself backwards with his arms and legs apart in a star shape. He hurtled down the ropeway whilst admiring the passing trees as he spun around and around.

  ‘Cool’ was his only comment when he reached the bottom.

  ‘Cocky’ was the sergeant’s reply and then he noticed Kit Kat’s adoring eyes focussed on her Jack. ‘Young love’ he thought and signalled to Wolf to retrieve the pulley.

  Marshall and Roger both did their best to emulate their hero Jack. As Roger hit the tyre stop on the anchor tree, his glasses flew off and disappeared into the undergrowth. It took half an hour to find them, even with everyone carefully searching to avoid stepping on and breaking them.

  Which left the youngest until last. Timmo was nervous as he climbed onto the platform.

  ‘Don’t worry’ said Wolf, ‘You can’t fall off, the safety harness will hold you.’ Timmo plucked at the harness to make sure it was tight enough. He was white and felt sick. Partly it was fatigue at the end of a very long day.

  He confided in their mentor. ‘I don’t want to let the others down Wolf. They mostly let me tag along at home but I am always considered the baby.’ There were tears in his eyes.

  Wolf bent down and straightened his shoulders. ‘Do you want to prove to them that you are the best?’

  Timmo thought about it before replying. ‘Cours
e I do but it’s scary, I can’t throw myself off backwards like the other three.’

  Wolf considered the situation. ‘Do you trust me yet?’

  ‘Yes, I think so Wolf.’

  ‘Well let’s make them jealous hey?’ He carefully secured the safety rope on Timmo’s harness and then a second one. They were both attached in an unusual way. ‘Are you ready to impress Little George?’

  ‘Urm...’ before Timmo could say no, Wolf had twisted him upside down and thrown him down the ropeway. Hurtling through the air upside down, at 20 kilometres per hour ensured Timmo couldn’t utter a sound and inform the others he was truly terrified. Luckily, he was sick at the start of the aerial ropeway so that the other s didn’t see the sausages and sauce reappear. As the sergeant trapped him at the end, Timmo swung in the air way above his friends. The sarge whispered a quiet well done so the others couldn’t hear. When Timmo arrived at floor level the others had stopped whooping in amazement and were immediately clapping him on the back.

  ‘Why did you do that?’ Asked Jack.

  A modest Timmo replied with pride. ‘Cos I am in the SAS.’

  The group of tired children were in bed by 7 pm, worn out by the excitement of their first day and the early start. They were so tired they forgot to fret for their parents and were all soon sound asleep and dreaming happy dreams.

  * * *

  The days passed quickly. Every evening they played “world domination” as a group but always supervised by Wolf. All five sat in a circle with their laptops on their knees. Each would advise the others what they were manipulating on the world markets and then the others would bet against it. Wolf’s advice inevitably made their top British rankings safer as they scored far higher than any other players. It was Jack who noticed that Marshall wasn’t a very good player. Jack was sat next to him in the ring and could see how slow he was on the keyboard and how he faltered at each decision. Therefore, as Marshall’s scores were always so high the next evening, he was perplexed. But Jack told no one, he liked Marshall and felt sorry about his circumstances, the lack of a home and mum. He couldn’t believe how Mrs Hines had not returned from work and that upset Jack. He imagined what it would be like if his mum wasn’t around and so he ignored Marshall’s lack of playing skills and became close friends to support him.

  During the day, they continued their anti-terrorist training. Shooting machine guns was child’s play. The latest design of minimi gun gave very little kick and hitting a target at 100 metres was easy for everyone. Jack grouped his five shot burst through the head. Roger and Marshall preferred to target the heart and Kit Kat and Timmo competed for how far apart they could make their bullet holes. But it didn’t matter, at least they could hit the target, they knew how to turn the safety on and off and how to reload. All just in case. That was what the sergeant and Wolf reminded them. All, JIC - just in case. Brett joined them again during the second week. He needed to spend time with Wolf and bring him up to date on the latest “intell”. However, Brett’s specialities were boats, planes and parachutes and so he prepared a day of pure excitement for the mini SAS team.

  They assembled as usual at 6 am for their early morning run and forged their way around a 7 kilometre circuit on the perimeter of the assault course. Each one carried a 10 kilogramme pack on their backs and ran in their army fatigues but without the power suits as that would be cheating. Part way around they took off the packs and scaled the parachute practice tower. They had been shown how to land by bending their knees on impact and by the fifth attempt they were all happy to drop off the edge of the platform and into oblivion.

  Kate joked with the others. ‘It’s easy from 50 metres on a slow descent wire, thank goodness we won’t have to do the real thing.’

  It made the boys think, ‘will we have to. Really have to?’ No one commented out loud, the thought was terrifying.

  By 8 am they were tucking into a fried breakfast with extra toast, strawberry jam, croissants and cereals. The training was definitely building them up and although physically easier for Jack, it was of a much greater benefit to the others. It built their confidence as they realised that they could do things they had never attempted before. Roger in particular was buoyed up by the running. Until the second day of training he had never run more than 20 metres in his life. Brett and Wolf joined them at the table as they sat back with full tummies.

  Brett gave them some exciting news, ‘we are going for a RIB ride. Does anyone know what that means?’ They all shook their heads. ‘A Rigid Inflatable Boat is a fast attack boat, in our case it has a carbon fibre hull, interlaced with the latest in Kevlar armour plating and powered by twin 300 horsepower diesel engines.’

  ‘Fabtastic’ said Timmo, ‘can I drive it please?’

  ‘Of course Little George but on condition you do not perform any high speed turns. However, the SAS’s special attack ribs are currently based on the River Severn estuary and that unfortunately is too far away to make it today.’ He watched as they were visibly deflated.

  Wolf nudged his partner. ‘Go on, don’t tease.’

  Brett smiled. ‘Fortunately, if you have the latest Lynx Wildcat helicopter we can be there in half an hour, so let’s go!’ An excited group left the mess hall and piled into a waiting lorry. Sergeant Sargent was given the day off and they headed out of Brecon for some fun. Within five minutes they were in the noisy helicopter and soaring skywards, their teeth juddering in unison with the rotor. The view was awesome, the caravan park seemed tiny as they hovered above it at 3000 metres and then Brett pointed out the town of Brecon to one side. It made them realise how far the SAS camp truly extended. The helicopter started to move. Sweeping over a valley cutting through The Black Mountains, they headed south towards Cardiff before turning east to travel parallel to the South Wales coast. The children were ecstatic, none of them had ever been in an aeroplane, never mind an attack helicopter. Brett and Wolf let them move around the fuselage during the flight. They had told the pilots to avoid any rolls and to save them for The Black Cats helicopter display in Farnborough at the weekend. The excited children shouted to each other as they spied landmarks and everyday items from their new perspective. Railways with high speed trains heading towards London, seemingly slow in comparison to the helicopter. Container ships barely moving towards the port of Bristol and then they swooped lower to follow the Severn estuary as it curved inland and were speechless with delight as the pilot went under the Severn Road Bridge.

  ‘That was a treat girl and boys, it is totally illegal for anyone except the SAS, so tell no one about it!’ Brett was pleased they were having so much fun. It placed the mission far into the future in the children’s minds but in fact he knew it would come very shortly. The helicopter hovered a metre above the sandy shore of the estuary allowing the occupants to leap out and race to the waiting RIB. Two guards appeared from nowhere with their guns aimed at the group but as soon as Brett and Wolf had shown them their ID’s, they were allowed to jump into the RIB and set off up river. The guards adjusted the bits of twig and branches sticking out from their uniforms as camouflage and smiling at the thought of children in a £500,000 attack boat, they slowly merged into the vegetation of the shoreline and disappeared again.

  Brett shouted to everyone to ‘hold on’ and accelerated as fast as possible. All of them were pushed back into their seats as the RIB easily hit 100 kilometres per hour. ‘Are you all having fun?’ He received a shake of heads and knew the ride was fabtastic in their parlance. He slowed the boat after blasting it for a mile and motioned Timmo to the driver’s seat. Quickly Brett showed him the throttle, neutral, reverse and forward and urged him to nudge the lever with the palm of his hand to gently accelerate the boat.

  ‘Holding on?’ Shouted Timmo to his passengers and then he thumped the throttle as far forward as it would go. ‘Flip me,’ he used his dad’s forbidden expression, ‘it is flipping fabtastic!’ Brett let him do what he wanted; he needed the youngest team member to be the most confident before th
e mission. As Timmo swerved his way up the estuary, the others shouted at him to slow down. It wasn’t until Brett signalled him to slow, that he took any notice.

  As the RIB settled off the plane and wallowed in the water, Brett stood next to the steering wheel and faced his team. Behind them was the sea, behind him was the narrowing River Severn. Brett glanced at his watch, 11.03 am, before looking into the distance behind the children.

  ‘Bang on time!’ he said. They all turned around, coming up the estuary was a giant wave.

  ‘It’s a tsunami,’ shouted Kate, ‘we’ll all be killed!’

  Brett and Wolf remained calm as the children panicked.

  Wolf gave them a sharp order. ‘Stop panicking! Always remain calm and think. Remember that,’ he paused for effect, ‘always. Now then, would Brett have brought you out here if there was a tsunami due?’ The five calmed down and listened to Wolf. ‘It is in fact The Severn bore. Tell us all about it Roger.’

  ‘This is so exciting, we are in an estuary which has the second largest tidal range in the world.’ Everyone stopped listening; Roger was off on one. ‘It funnels into the estuary and can get up to 13 kilometres per hour and sometimes it actually hits 3 metres in height. Can you believe it!’

  ‘Thank you Roger, and now it is a mere 200 metres away.’ The bore looked like a giant wave but it wasn’t breaking at the crest. Wolf nodded to Brett who gunned the engine to position the boat at 45 degrees to the oncoming wave. As it came closer, he slowly increased the speed of the boat but he was still allowing the wave to catch them. As it thrust the boat upwards and surged underneath, they could feel the power of millions of tonnes of water funnelling northwards. Brett was an expert; he gunned the engines and incredibly stayed on the top of the wave. The RIB was surfing the Severn bore to everyone’s astonishment! After five minutes of adrenaline pumping action, he slowed the RIB and dropped off the back of the wave. They watched it thunder into the distance as it ran northwards up the river.

  ‘Are you still having fun?’ Asked Brett.