Authors: Colin Wraight
He was on his third cup of coffee when a rep from the anti -Terrorist Squad walked in and slapped some paperwork on the window sill beside him.
"We'll be handling it from here, Corporal." He emphasized that last word with a certain amount of ridicule. "You can take your men and leave now."
"And who's we?"
"Anti-Terrorist Squad. Detective Inspector Frank Jolly." He said and held out his hand for the SAS man to shake, but was ignored.
Cpl Lomas picked up the paperwork and browsed through it. "You’re not taking these men anywhere until my boss has had a word with them." He snapped, and then lowered his voice to normal speech. "Sorry for any inconvenience, but that's just the way it is."
The big Policeman’s eyes bulged with anger and his lips trembled as he spoke. "I am a Detective Inspector, and I am telling you that those criminals are leaving with me
irrespective of who your
boss is......."
"I beg to differ."
The Detective hadn't heard the entry of the Colonel and didn’t recognise him as one of the Corporals team. "Who are you?" He growled.
The Colonel smiled warmly and held out his hand, only to be ignored by the fuming Policeman. "My name is Colonel Rothschild; I am the Commanding Officer of these men." He indicated towards the Corporal with his head.
"He wants to take your prisoners Sir."
"You're the Commanding Officer of 22 SAS?" The Policeman was in total veneration, his anger subsided he held out a shaking hand. "I didn't realise. I'm sorry."
"That's alright Officer. But it would be a great help if I could keep the prisoners until....." He looked at his watch. "...say.... this evening?"
"Fine, I'll be back to collect them later."
As soon as the Policeman was out the door Cpl Lomas burst out laughing and fell to his knees. "We are not worthy.... We are not worthy." He ranted sarcastically.
The Colonel shook his head; he had to laugh at one of the Regiments finest men making a complete fool of himself. "Get the prisoners, Corporal."
After a wash and a shave Danny
felt much better, even though he knew he still smelled badly of dry sweat. There wasn't much to do now but wait; only the Colonel was allowed to question the prisoners. He and the other two couldn't even sit in and listen, this annoyed Gunter more than anything. He wanted answers; he wanted to know what Jack was playing at. He paced the room trying to think, trying to piece together a blank jigsaw. Eventually his thoughts became verbal questions directed at anyone who chose to answer them.
"How far do you think we are from
London
?" He asked, and then answered
the question himself. "Two hundred miles, perhaps more."
"
Much more." Danny added
from his half asleep state.
"So why did he choose that place? Why did he want us to die up there on that mountain miles away from civilization?"
Danny
opened his eyes. “You’re not going to let me sleep are you?"
"Why?"
"He wanted us out of the way for some reason. He obviously has no intention of handing Sahra over yet...."
"And I don't think he's going to hurt her."
Beth Interjected
.
"Well, we
can't bank on that." Snapped Danny angrily
. "Can we? After all, at the moment he's only guilty of Kidnap, attempted murder and bombing."
"Bombing.
.!
" Shouted Gunter. "That's it. He's going to blow something up, and soon."
Danny
simply raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Remember when the power station blew up.... He wasn't trying to kill us, he was destroying his factory. He had perfected the bomb and was destroying the evidence."
"You could be right." Beth recalled the small explosions and masses of electron
ic gadgets which Jack had
been messing with. “Although I think he could be targeting an individual....."
"What? You mean as apposed to a crowd."
"Exactly! All we need now is the target." Gunter rubbed his temples, a pointless exercise in brain persuasion. "The answer lies with us, it must do. Otherwise why would he want us out of the way?"
Beth shot to her feet seemingly startled. "My God I've got it. The only connection between us, Mckay and the
Northern Ireland
situation is the all party p
e
a
ce conference on Monday."
"What?" Asked Gunter now confused.
"While you were away in Saudi, Force Four got the contract for those talks. We're in charge of the security monitors and the main entrance during silent hours."
"Silent hours?"
"Yes, when everyone goes back to their residence at the end of the day the secret service goes with them and we take over as night watchmen."
Danny
noticed the sparkle return to Gu
nter’s tired eyes as he shrugged and shouted. "We need to get down there."
"No, I don't know anything." Thompson said tentatively. The Colonel pressed home his attack.
"Mr. Thompson, are you aware that this 'Jack' character is a wanted serial killer and Terrorist?"
"No."
"And are you aware
that by your own actions you’re considered an
accomplice?"
"No." He whined
almost in tears. "I was against it from the start. I needed the money."
"How much was he offering you?"
"Quarter of a mill
...."
"When is he going to pay you
?" Screamed the Colonel.
“ He paid half up front and Said he’d get in touch when the job was done.”
Thompson leaned forward on the desk and energetically stubbed out his cigarette, then nervously shifted his glassy stare towards the door. The crumpled remains in the ashtray continued to burn sending a grey spiral of smoke up to the ceiling. "I'll make a deal with you."
"We don't make deals Mr. Thompson; we arrest people and put them in gaol." He said abruptly and turned to leave, all the time hoping that he would be called back. He had collected some interesting information from the other three, but nothing of outstanding value. This was his last chance.
"If you let me get the hell
out of this shit hole, I’ll tell you everything that I know."
The Colonel smiled inwardly and closed the door. "Ok. It's a deal."
Thompson lit another cigarette and took deep breaths of nicotine before he started talking. "This, this Irishman, calls himself Jack....." He shot a nervous glance at the door as the footsteps of some one walking by could be heard echoing down the short corridor. "Well, he reckons to be some sort of big IRA man, you know the type, always telling tall stories and looking to make a few pounds here and there. Me and the others met him in a bar and we got talking, and one thing led to another...."
"I sincerely hope you're not wasting my time young man beca
use
....."
"No wait a minute...... It was about a month ago that we all went down to
London
to stay in this big old power station. I got looking around and found loads of guns and things....."
“Things?"
"I don't know... Maybe bombs. There was some sound equipment and TV cameras like they use on television, ammunition and building plans."
"Building plans?"
"Yeh." Thompson shifted uneasily in his seat and bit his bottom lip. "The Queens Conference centre."
The Colonel turned to the Police Constable standing by the door, the nod was barely visible but he understood the SAS man clearly. Then he turned back to the prisoner. "You can go now and I don't want to see your face again."
Thompson stood, meekly edged his way passed the two men and all but ran out the door.
The Colonel laughed. "You can go and arrest him now Constable."
***
198
BlindFire
Chapter 11
Jack tried to shield the rain from his face as he jumped the four steps from the back door and dashed into the yard. He could just see Sahra disappearing through the gate and into the woods beyond. Hindered by his limp and the slippery ground he charged after her, screaming her name. He realised his mistake, he should never have untied her and he certainly shouldn't have left her alone in front of the TV.
She dodged out of sight for a second and then reappeared from out of a weed filled ditch. The blustering winds seemed to carry Sahra along, deeper and deeper into the dense black woods. Momentarily she heard him far back in the distance calling her name like a madman. The horrifying sound of his hysterical voice filled every muscle and joint with panic and refreshed energy. Every tree formed an evil contorted face and every bush held out its claw like hands that scratched at her face as she stumbled past.
The dull thud as her forehead smashed into a low oak branch was heard by no one; she faltered for a few steps then fell to her knees. She felt no pain, just a strange swimming feeling and then a soft impression of a dark skinned woman with long black flowing hair and shining eyes. Sahra smiled at her, no longer afraid, and reached out to touch the embracing light surrounding the woman.
She seemed so full of sorrow yet at the same time her dark eyes glittered in the light with joy. She spoke as clearly inside Sahra’s head as she could herself.
"Sahra..! My brave Sahra..!" Her voice had softness to it, but was as light
as velvet and carried across the howling storm like a satin veil in a breeze. Then in an instant she was gone, leaving Sahra writhing in agony on
the floor. "Mummy." She called out
twice and then passed out.
It was those screams which alerted Jack. When he found her she was still unconscious and losing blood from a deep gash above he
r left eye. He scooped the young woman
up into his arms and as he stood up he thought he noticed a strange dull glow dissolving into the night. He stroked a length of hair from her face. "I think you've got yourself a Guardian Angel there wee lassie." Then he laughed maliciously at the dark sky and
set off back for the old house.
It took an hour for him to find his way out of the woods and back to the house. By the time he arrived and set Sahra down on a smelly old bed she was awake and calling for her Mummy.
"Ye' shouldn't have run away like that, I'm going to have to tie you up again."
Sahra said nothing, she knew what to expect and besides all she could think of was
the woman
.
"Take your clothes off.”
She panicked and crawled to the other end of the bed, then curled herself up into a ball.
"I'm not going to hurt you, you're all wet." He said trying to speak softly, but it wasn't something he was used to. After throwing a dirty
old beach towel onto the bed he
turned around. "I won’t leave the room, but I promise not to watch."
The wet sodden clothes clung to her freezing damp body. She knew that she had to get out of them and gingerly pulled the towel towards her. Looking towards Jack she could see by his fidgeting that he was becoming restless and that meant only one thing. Any time now he could fly in to a terrifying rage. Sahra tore off her clothes as quickly as she could and wrapped herself up in the towel. "You can look now."
He turned. "So you’re speaking to me now?"
She kept her eyes fixed at a point on the floor. "Why do you hate
my dad and me
so much?" She asked. Surprised by her own
bravery she went on. "What did we ever do to make you hate us
so much?"
"I don't hate you."
"Liar. You murdered my mother and shot my little brother,
I remember
you
."
"
My wife was only a teenager when she died, no older than you are now”
“
What happened to her?"
Jack slipped on to the end of the bed and
massaged his bad leg. “Your
Fat
her came and murdered her; he
took away the one pure thing I lived for."
"Were you sad?"
"Yes I was sad, I was so
sad all I could do was kill. I killed and I killed and I killed, in the end it didn't matter who it was or what I did to them, they just had to die." He fell silent and remembered the blood and the bodies, the dismembered limbs. He could almost taste the fear of
his victims
, their tiny trembling bodies and panicking eyes, th
eir futile screams for help
and their shocking acceptance just before the point of death. He glanced over
at Sahra who stared back
. "My killing days are not quite over yet, but I’ll spare you.... Maybe."
The plan was simple, as all military operations should be. In three days the ‘All party piece party talks’ would start, and the
opening speaker would be John S
talwart Hetherington Junior, the Prime minister of
England
.
Jack mulled over his plan in his mind, over and over again. Everything had to be perfect, everything had to be just right and timed to perfection. Ever since his old connection in
Whitehall
had given him the nod he had been planning the assassination. If all that
London
and its politicians had to offer was words then it's only fitting that their leader should die by his own words.
He smiled at his own brilliance and slowly dragged a sports bag from under the bed unzipped it and took out a small box. Inside the box and wrapped in loose cotton wool was a normal stage microphone, only it wasn't so normal. Surrounding a complex electronic circuit was a thick band of Semtex. One word into the device would trigger a large enough explosion to blow a man's head clean off his shoulders.
Shortly after replacing the explosive device back in its packaging he fell asleep, and woke up what seemed like only minutes later, but infact several hours had passed. He awakened Sahra and ordered her to get dressed, the friendliness of the night before seemed somehow lost now. "Hurry up; we've got a long way to go today." He snapped and looked at his watch for the third time in as many minutes.
"Where are we going?" She asked tentatively.
"Don’t talk just get a move on." He threw a sports bag over his shoulder and had one last look around the room, just to make sure that he hadn't left anything.
Next Sahra was strapped into the darkness of the rear of the blue transit van and they were on their way. The stench of petrol fumes bit hard into her throat and soon she felt sick, but the piercing cold draught blowing through the badly sealed windows took her mind off it as she shivered to stay warm on the cold metal floor. Some time later the van stopped, she heard Jack get out and walk away. He returned only minutes later, opened the back door for a second and threw something in.
Inside a paper bag she found some sandwiches and a can of cola, they were demolished in seconds. Still hungry she plunged her hands back inside the bag hoping for something else, and surprised, she found a chocolate bar. She felt better now and somehow warmer.
***
Within minutes of lying down on the back seat of the car the Colonel knew he wasn’t going to get any rest. There were too many unanswered questions, he sat up again and closed his eyes. "Gunter."
"Yeah."
"Just run it past me again."
Gunter heaved a sigh. "It seems as though he intends to assassinate
y
our beloved Prime minister at the Conference centre using some kind of electronic device. There you have it."
"What sort of device?"
"Maybe a camera or a microphone, it could be anything."
"What's our connection, I mean did he want us dead or was he misleading us?"
Gunter opened his side window to let some much needed fresh air inside the car. "You know the answer to that as much as I do. He wanted us dead and out of the way."
"He's gone to a lot of trouble for this. It could mean he's going in during the night...."
"And lying up until the hit?"
"Exactly."
Danny
and Beth were following in the car behind and their worries were much closer to home.
"God
I hope Sahra is doing alright." Said Beth and brushed a strand of hair from her face. "She wasn't too good when I left her."
"She'll be OK. Sahra
i
s a lot tougher than you think."
"
.... Why couldn't he have kept me
and let her go
?"
“He knew you would try to kill him at the first opportunity.”
He
said
and turned the radio on to listen to the news. Another little girl had gone missing in
London
,
the second
this year and there was to be another penny on tax in April. But the main story was the Prime ministers opening address at the all party peace talks in a few days.
"Knowing Jack it wouldn't surprise me at all if his target was the PM." The words seeme
d to spill from her lips and Danny
suddenly realized everything. The clues were there all along just waiting to be found.
"It is.... He's going to do it with an explosive device fitted into a microphone."
Beth just laughed. "What are you... psychic or something?"
"Everything seems to fit perfectly. You heard small explosions at the power station and I found a microphone, and that guy who talked in Keswick saw loads of electronic shit."
Beth shook her
head. "I don't know. Whoever the target
is we have to stop him, if Jack kills just one person it will ruin the peace talks and the killing will start all over again."
As the car swung into a private driveway automatic floodlights and close circuit cameras were act
ivated. "Home at last." Said Danny
.
The Colonel and Gunter were already
drinking coffee and watching Sky News
wh
en Danny
and Beth walked in.
"What kept you?" Shouted Gunter with his usual bullish charm.
"Your coffee's waiting for you in the
kitchen." Said the Colonel and
smiled. "I think we've figured it all out."
"Really."
"He's going for the PM......."
Danny
interrupted before he could finish. "....With an exploding microphone at the opening address."
The Colonel was taken aback. "Well we hadn't actually got that far but yes it's the PM."
"So what now?" Asked Beth. "Do w
e carry on with the contract as
normal?"
"Of course. Up until now he's always been one step in front of us, controlling our movements, but now I think we could be drawing level." The Colonel drank the last of his coffee and put the cup in the kitchen sink. "Tomorrow it starts; I suggest we all get good nights sleep."
"I'm not feeling too well anyway." Beth disappeared through the door to her bedroom, followed by the gazes of the other three. Never before had she ever complained of being unwell, even at the worst of times.
Before going to bed Danny
check
ed
the answer machine for
messages
and visibly deflated when he didn't hear
his daughter’s voice. To know she was still alive was
all he wanted, maybe he didn't
need to hear her voice any voice
telling him she was definitely alive would be enough.
There was just one message from Danny who had recently enrolled at the Army foundation college, to say he was coming home at the weekend. Danny thanked god for small mercies, at least his son was safe.
It wasn't until after ten the next morning that he woke up. At first he thought he could hear Beth being sick in the bathroom.
"Are you alright?" He cried.
"Yeah I'm fine." She had just finished vomiting for the third time that morning and felt like death warmed up. "I'm going to see a Doctor today."
Danny
dressed and mooched into the living room. There was a note from the Colonel; it said they had already gone on to the
Queens
centre to check out the security.
***
Gunter tapped another key and the bank of screens above him changed to show the exterior of the building. "And that's it!"