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Daystar's ATS Story
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Well, this my first proper attempt at writing a story, but I'm fairly confident of pulling it off. I hope you guys will like it.
Chapter One - A Declaration Of War
London, England, May 18, 2024
Andrew looked across the square, and smiled. His timing had been perfect, as always. The bus, laden with hidden blocks of C4, had entered the square. Also, the limousine had arrived at it's detination. Everything was almost set.
As Andrew approached his escape route, he looked across the square again to where the bus had arrived at its target.
It was time. Finally.
Andrew took one hand away from the steering wheel and reached down for the mobile phone. He pressed �Call�, and then floored the car�s accelerator.
A ball of flame appeared where the bus had once been. In the blink of an eye, it had expanded, consuming the limousine, the Embassy guards, the Embassy front, and the numerous cars that had been driving by at the time.
The blast wave swept across the square, knocking people off their feet, blowing out windows and slamming into cars. A deafening boom shook the ground.
As he wove his car through the traffic, Andrew looked in the rear-view mirror. The blast had subsided, and now there was a pillar of smoke rising above the buildings that now shielded the devastated square from his view.
It looked like another successful mission for the young freedom fighter, his commander would be pleased. But right now, he had to get back to the safehouse, where he would be able to get a damage report, courtesy of the TV news channels.
Henry picked his way through the rubble. The only trace of the limo left was the twisted, blackened heap of smouldering metal.
�Charlie��
A police officer appeared at his shoulder. �Sir? I�m going to have to ask you to step back.�
Henry tore his gaze away from the mangled wreckage, and looked the young officer in the eye.
�My brother was in there!�
�Sir, please��
�Get the hell away from me!� Henry was shaking. He reared up above the young man, ready to deal a crushing blow. But somebody grabbed his arm.
�Henry! No! It�s me, Ok?�
�Kenny! Kenny, its Charlie�he�s�he was in the limo�� Henry felt his anger draining away. It was being replaced by pain, and sorrow. A tear appeared in his eye.
�It�s Ok. It�s Ok.� Ken said, as Henry collapsed onto him. He looked over Henry�s shoulder at the startled policeman, and nodded.
�Let�s get out of here, Ok?� Ken said. Henry nodded, and the two men walked slowly through the devastation, avoiding the crowds of police, paramedics and firefighters that were swarming around the blast site.
�We have been told by the police that the Ambassador and several of his top aides died in the blast, as well as Embassy guards and staff. Added to this, the number of civilians killed in the blast has been placed at 57. The Government has refused to speculate, but at this early stage, several experts are saying this bears all the hallmarks of Islamic terrorists. But whoever is responsible, they are sure to feel the full might of the British and American Governments. This is Jane Watson, for BBC News, in central London.�
Andrew turned off the TV, and picked up his phone. He dialled a number, turned the phone to audio only, and waited for the answer.
�Hello,� said a voice at the other end of the line.
�It�s done,� said Andrew.
�Well done! Lay low for a while, I will call you soon.�
�Ok. Goodbye.�
�Bye.�
Andrew turned off the phone. The situation was good, very good indeed. He got up from the armchair and walked over to the coffee table, poured himself some vodka, and returned to the big comfortable armchair positioned in front of the TV. He turned on the TV and continued to watch the news.
He froze. The young girl was covered in blood. She was screaming. Andrew looked at the medics carrying her on the stretcher. Their faces were grim. The reporter�s picture filled the screen, but Andrew didn�t see her. He didn�t hear her
He saw the girl. She must have been about ten, short, with long, bloodied, burnt, blonde hair.
He heard the girl. �Mummy! Mummy!� she screamed. She must have been in great pain, as the movement of the stretcher caused her to scream louder.
�Oh Jesus�� Andrew murmured to himself.
He shook his head to clear it. But the image kept replaying in his mind�s eye. Her face. It was her face that haunted him the most.
He looked down at his glass of celebratory vodka. He felt sick, and his hand was shaking. He dropped the glass, which splintered as it hit the floor.
�Mummy!�
�Holy Jesus Christ��
He got up and went over to the bathroom door. Pushing it open, he staggered to the basin, and turned on the tap, and began to splash the cool water on his face. He looked up from the basin and saw a reflection in the mirror. It was the girl.
London, England, May 19, 2024
Henry paced around the office. He was shuddering with rage. Were it not for the air-conditioning, he probably would have over-heated. It was 38 degrees Centigrade outside. Ken sat watching him.
�I want them! Now!�
�But who�?�
�Look, I really couldn�t give a damn who you use!� stormed Henry. �Just find them and bring them to me!�
�But the Brits and the CIA have asked us not to interfere!� Ken protested.
�Do you think I give a damn about what they have to say?� Henry shouted. �With all our resources, we should be able take care of a bunch of terrorists!�
Henry stopped pacing the room and collapsed into a chair. As a silence engulfed the room, Ken looked thoughtful. After a few minutes, he looked up at Henry.
�Ok, this is what I think we should do,� he said, �We should hire mercs.�
�Mercs?�
�Well if we use our own men, people will be able to say we�re interfering. But, if we hire mercenaries it means that, officially, we have nothing to do with it.�
�That�s good!� said Henry.
�I�ll have a word with the head of our British Security Division. He�ll know where we can hire people from,� Ken said.
�I want the best Kenny,� said Henry. �No amateur night crap, Ok? I want every one of these little asswipe terrorists to know what happens when they screw with me!�
Chapter One - A Declaration Of War
London, England, May 18, 2024
Andrew looked across the square, and smiled. His timing had been perfect, as always. The bus, laden with hidden blocks of C4, had entered the square. Also, the limousine had arrived at it's detination. Everything was almost set.
As Andrew approached his escape route, he looked across the square again to where the bus had arrived at its target.
It was time. Finally.
Andrew took one hand away from the steering wheel and reached down for the mobile phone. He pressed �Call�, and then floored the car�s accelerator.
A ball of flame appeared where the bus had once been. In the blink of an eye, it had expanded, consuming the limousine, the Embassy guards, the Embassy front, and the numerous cars that had been driving by at the time.
The blast wave swept across the square, knocking people off their feet, blowing out windows and slamming into cars. A deafening boom shook the ground.
As he wove his car through the traffic, Andrew looked in the rear-view mirror. The blast had subsided, and now there was a pillar of smoke rising above the buildings that now shielded the devastated square from his view.
It looked like another successful mission for the young freedom fighter, his commander would be pleased. But right now, he had to get back to the safehouse, where he would be able to get a damage report, courtesy of the TV news channels.
Henry picked his way through the rubble. The only trace of the limo left was the twisted, blackened heap of smouldering metal.
�Charlie��
A police officer appeared at his shoulder. �Sir? I�m going to have to ask you to step back.�
Henry tore his gaze away from the mangled wreckage, and looked the young officer in the eye.
�My brother was in there!�
�Sir, please��
�Get the hell away from me!� Henry was shaking. He reared up above the young man, ready to deal a crushing blow. But somebody grabbed his arm.
�Henry! No! It�s me, Ok?�
�Kenny! Kenny, its Charlie�he�s�he was in the limo�� Henry felt his anger draining away. It was being replaced by pain, and sorrow. A tear appeared in his eye.
�It�s Ok. It�s Ok.� Ken said, as Henry collapsed onto him. He looked over Henry�s shoulder at the startled policeman, and nodded.
�Let�s get out of here, Ok?� Ken said. Henry nodded, and the two men walked slowly through the devastation, avoiding the crowds of police, paramedics and firefighters that were swarming around the blast site.
�We have been told by the police that the Ambassador and several of his top aides died in the blast, as well as Embassy guards and staff. Added to this, the number of civilians killed in the blast has been placed at 57. The Government has refused to speculate, but at this early stage, several experts are saying this bears all the hallmarks of Islamic terrorists. But whoever is responsible, they are sure to feel the full might of the British and American Governments. This is Jane Watson, for BBC News, in central London.�
Andrew turned off the TV, and picked up his phone. He dialled a number, turned the phone to audio only, and waited for the answer.
�Hello,� said a voice at the other end of the line.
�It�s done,� said Andrew.
�Well done! Lay low for a while, I will call you soon.�
�Ok. Goodbye.�
�Bye.�
Andrew turned off the phone. The situation was good, very good indeed. He got up from the armchair and walked over to the coffee table, poured himself some vodka, and returned to the big comfortable armchair positioned in front of the TV. He turned on the TV and continued to watch the news.
He froze. The young girl was covered in blood. She was screaming. Andrew looked at the medics carrying her on the stretcher. Their faces were grim. The reporter�s picture filled the screen, but Andrew didn�t see her. He didn�t hear her
He saw the girl. She must have been about ten, short, with long, bloodied, burnt, blonde hair.
He heard the girl. �Mummy! Mummy!� she screamed. She must have been in great pain, as the movement of the stretcher caused her to scream louder.
�Oh Jesus�� Andrew murmured to himself.
He shook his head to clear it. But the image kept replaying in his mind�s eye. Her face. It was her face that haunted him the most.
He looked down at his glass of celebratory vodka. He felt sick, and his hand was shaking. He dropped the glass, which splintered as it hit the floor.
�Mummy!�
�Holy Jesus Christ��
He got up and went over to the bathroom door. Pushing it open, he staggered to the basin, and turned on the tap, and began to splash the cool water on his face. He looked up from the basin and saw a reflection in the mirror. It was the girl.
London, England, May 19, 2024
Henry paced around the office. He was shuddering with rage. Were it not for the air-conditioning, he probably would have over-heated. It was 38 degrees Centigrade outside. Ken sat watching him.
�I want them! Now!�
�But who�?�
�Look, I really couldn�t give a damn who you use!� stormed Henry. �Just find them and bring them to me!�
�But the Brits and the CIA have asked us not to interfere!� Ken protested.
�Do you think I give a damn about what they have to say?� Henry shouted. �With all our resources, we should be able take care of a bunch of terrorists!�
Henry stopped pacing the room and collapsed into a chair. As a silence engulfed the room, Ken looked thoughtful. After a few minutes, he looked up at Henry.
�Ok, this is what I think we should do,� he said, �We should hire mercs.�
�Mercs?�
�Well if we use our own men, people will be able to say we�re interfering. But, if we hire mercenaries it means that, officially, we have nothing to do with it.�
�That�s good!� said Henry.
�I�ll have a word with the head of our British Security Division. He�ll know where we can hire people from,� Ken said.
�I want the best Kenny,� said Henry. �No amateur night crap, Ok? I want every one of these little asswipe terrorists to know what happens when they screw with me!�
Chapter Two - The Meeting
London, England, May 20, 2024
James walked along the corridor, following the woman who had collected him from the main reception area downstairs. He was glad that it was his habit to wear suits when on business; his current surroundings appeared to be the pinnacle of office-hours corporate luxury.
This thought was confirmed when he was led into an office with a gigantic TV screen spanning almost an entire wall, a door that apparently led to an en suite bathroom, and a less than subtle drinks cabinet, which displayed everything from tequila to vodka and scotch to brandy. Two men sat in big leather armchairs that looked almost ridiculously comfortable.
�Ah! Mr Carter?� asked one as they rose from the armchairs. The woman was dismissed with a wave of the hand. �How do you do? I�m Dennis Pierce, head of security here.�
They shook hands, but whilst Dennis appeared to be warm in his greeting, James found himself resisting the urge to be rude and draw his hand away. He disliked the corporate �security� bosses that he was forced to work for sometimes; they were often of little military, police, or security service experience, and James frequently came to the conclusion that they were either suits playing cop, or thugs playing suit. Their brutality in some of the many under-the-table corporate deals was shocking, and they and their underlings were known to almost openly use murder and arson among many other colourful intimidation tactics, and when the police came calling, they were almost always either bought off or scared off with armies of lawyers. Still, their bosses paid James� bills, and handsomely too. So he always buried his distaste for them. After all, business is business.
�This,� Dennis continued, �is my associate, Ken Jackson.�
�Hi,� said Ken, offering his hand.
James picked up on the New Yorker�s accent immediately and made a mental note. He took Ken�s hand, and shook it in much the same way as he had shaken Dennis� hand. Polite but cold.
�Pleased to meet you both,� he said.
�Would you like a drink?� Dennis offered.
�I am fine, thank you.�
�Very well. Please take a seat, and let�s get down to business Mr Carter.�
They sat down and Dennis produced a sheet of paper from a folder he held.
�I�ll get right to the point, Mr Carter, we need you to find and capture some very dangerous people. Now, we don�t actually know who these people are, but we�re confident that with your experience as an anti-terrorist officer in the Security Service, you will be able to find them.�
�You say they are dangerous, yet you do not know who they are. How do you know they are dangerous?� James asked.
�Because, Mr Carter, yesterday they demonstrated their capabilities,� Ken replied.
James sat back. �The Embassy?�
�Yes,� Ken said. �We need whoever bombed the Embassy brought to us alive.�
James leant forward. �I can certainly look into this for you, but capturing them will be difficult, not to mention dangerous.�
�Name your price,� Ken said.
�It�s not that simple, Mr Jackson. I will need to hire a group of people. I can�t take down and capture a group of terrorists by myself!�
�Name your price,� Ken repeated.
�Five million in a currency of my choice. The same goes for the other members of my team.�
�Fine,� said Ken.
James wasn�t expecting this. Usually they haggled over the price. James decided to try and make the most of their money.
�We�ll need funding for our equipment.�
�Don�t worry about equipment,� Dennis said. �If you let us know what you need, we�ll get it for you.�
�Sure?�
�Mr Carter,� Ken smiled, �we do business on a regular basis with the US military, among others. I assure you, we can get whatever your team will need.�
�Fine,� said James. �I will make the attempt, but I can�t promise that they�ll be walking when I bring them in.�
�Just as long as they�re conscious, and not too badly messed up,� said Ken. �I don�t suppose I need to ask you to keep this under wraps?�
�Of course not,� replied James, slightly annoyed at the question. �Who will be my contact here?�
�That would be me,� Dennis said. He pulled a card from his pocket, and handed it to James. �The number on this line is secure, and will put you through to me directly. There�s no charge for the call, naturally.�
�Ok then,� James said, taking the card. �I will need a day or two to assemble my team. When they are assembled, I will contact you to give you the bank details for the money.�
�How many people do you think you will need?� Ken asked.
�Four, myself included.�
�Excellent!� Ken said.
�I had better get on with this as soon as possible, so if you guys will excuse me�� James stood up and extended his hand.
The others stood up and James shook hands with them both. Whilst Dennis walked over to the desk to call the secretary in to escort James out, Ken stepped toward James and spoke in a low voice.
�Before you leave Mr Carter, I will say this. This is an incredibly important assignment. We will deal with any betrayals with the utmost severity.�
James looked him in the eye, without a flicker of emotion on his face. �Don�t worry about me, Mr Jackson, I am a professional.�
Ken had a thoughtful look on his face.
�What�s wrong, Ken?� Dennis asked.
�Do you think we should have a little� insurance?� Ken asked him.
Dennis smiled. �I thought you might bring this up. We have a guy on our payroll who can keep an eye on Carter.�
�Tell me about him,� Ken said.
�Bob Trueman is an expert at discreet observation. He�s a tough bastard too. He�s former SAS.�
�Impressive!�
�Weapons training, surveillance, martial arts�� Dennis continued.
�Enough said!� Ken interrupted, �Put him on Carter ASAP, Ok?�
London, England, May 20, 2024
James walked along the corridor, following the woman who had collected him from the main reception area downstairs. He was glad that it was his habit to wear suits when on business; his current surroundings appeared to be the pinnacle of office-hours corporate luxury.
This thought was confirmed when he was led into an office with a gigantic TV screen spanning almost an entire wall, a door that apparently led to an en suite bathroom, and a less than subtle drinks cabinet, which displayed everything from tequila to vodka and scotch to brandy. Two men sat in big leather armchairs that looked almost ridiculously comfortable.
�Ah! Mr Carter?� asked one as they rose from the armchairs. The woman was dismissed with a wave of the hand. �How do you do? I�m Dennis Pierce, head of security here.�
They shook hands, but whilst Dennis appeared to be warm in his greeting, James found himself resisting the urge to be rude and draw his hand away. He disliked the corporate �security� bosses that he was forced to work for sometimes; they were often of little military, police, or security service experience, and James frequently came to the conclusion that they were either suits playing cop, or thugs playing suit. Their brutality in some of the many under-the-table corporate deals was shocking, and they and their underlings were known to almost openly use murder and arson among many other colourful intimidation tactics, and when the police came calling, they were almost always either bought off or scared off with armies of lawyers. Still, their bosses paid James� bills, and handsomely too. So he always buried his distaste for them. After all, business is business.
�This,� Dennis continued, �is my associate, Ken Jackson.�
�Hi,� said Ken, offering his hand.
James picked up on the New Yorker�s accent immediately and made a mental note. He took Ken�s hand, and shook it in much the same way as he had shaken Dennis� hand. Polite but cold.
�Pleased to meet you both,� he said.
�Would you like a drink?� Dennis offered.
�I am fine, thank you.�
�Very well. Please take a seat, and let�s get down to business Mr Carter.�
They sat down and Dennis produced a sheet of paper from a folder he held.
�I�ll get right to the point, Mr Carter, we need you to find and capture some very dangerous people. Now, we don�t actually know who these people are, but we�re confident that with your experience as an anti-terrorist officer in the Security Service, you will be able to find them.�
�You say they are dangerous, yet you do not know who they are. How do you know they are dangerous?� James asked.
�Because, Mr Carter, yesterday they demonstrated their capabilities,� Ken replied.
James sat back. �The Embassy?�
�Yes,� Ken said. �We need whoever bombed the Embassy brought to us alive.�
James leant forward. �I can certainly look into this for you, but capturing them will be difficult, not to mention dangerous.�
�Name your price,� Ken said.
�It�s not that simple, Mr Jackson. I will need to hire a group of people. I can�t take down and capture a group of terrorists by myself!�
�Name your price,� Ken repeated.
�Five million in a currency of my choice. The same goes for the other members of my team.�
�Fine,� said Ken.
James wasn�t expecting this. Usually they haggled over the price. James decided to try and make the most of their money.
�We�ll need funding for our equipment.�
�Don�t worry about equipment,� Dennis said. �If you let us know what you need, we�ll get it for you.�
�Sure?�
�Mr Carter,� Ken smiled, �we do business on a regular basis with the US military, among others. I assure you, we can get whatever your team will need.�
�Fine,� said James. �I will make the attempt, but I can�t promise that they�ll be walking when I bring them in.�
�Just as long as they�re conscious, and not too badly messed up,� said Ken. �I don�t suppose I need to ask you to keep this under wraps?�
�Of course not,� replied James, slightly annoyed at the question. �Who will be my contact here?�
�That would be me,� Dennis said. He pulled a card from his pocket, and handed it to James. �The number on this line is secure, and will put you through to me directly. There�s no charge for the call, naturally.�
�Ok then,� James said, taking the card. �I will need a day or two to assemble my team. When they are assembled, I will contact you to give you the bank details for the money.�
�How many people do you think you will need?� Ken asked.
�Four, myself included.�
�Excellent!� Ken said.
�I had better get on with this as soon as possible, so if you guys will excuse me�� James stood up and extended his hand.
The others stood up and James shook hands with them both. Whilst Dennis walked over to the desk to call the secretary in to escort James out, Ken stepped toward James and spoke in a low voice.
�Before you leave Mr Carter, I will say this. This is an incredibly important assignment. We will deal with any betrayals with the utmost severity.�
James looked him in the eye, without a flicker of emotion on his face. �Don�t worry about me, Mr Jackson, I am a professional.�
Ken had a thoughtful look on his face.
�What�s wrong, Ken?� Dennis asked.
�Do you think we should have a little� insurance?� Ken asked him.
Dennis smiled. �I thought you might bring this up. We have a guy on our payroll who can keep an eye on Carter.�
�Tell me about him,� Ken said.
�Bob Trueman is an expert at discreet observation. He�s a tough bastard too. He�s former SAS.�
�Impressive!�
�Weapons training, surveillance, martial arts�� Dennis continued.
�Enough said!� Ken interrupted, �Put him on Carter ASAP, Ok?�
Chapter Three - Recruitment Drive
London, England, May 20, 2024
James walked out of the café. In one hand he held a doughnut, and in the other the doughnut’s paper bag. Surveying the street, he took a bite from the doughnut.
Good. There were no police officers to be seen. Finishing the doughnut, James walked slowly over to the payphone.
Rather than throw away the bag, he held onto it. He pulled a stick of chewing gum from his pocket, unwrapped it, and popped into his mouth, then looked up and down the street again.
Still no police.
Chewing furiously, he held the bag up in front of his face, wrenched the phonebooth’s door open and stepped inside. He then pushed the bag forward to where he knew the camera would be, and just before the bag hit the camera’s lens, he took the chewing gum from his mouth and put it on the lens. He then pressed the bag down hard onto the lens.
With his privacy assured, James pulled the list of numbers from his pocket and lifted the receiver.
Reading, England, May 20, 2024
The phone rang.
Carl chose to ignore it. Sleep was more important at this time. He turned over and closed his eyes.
Shortly afterwards, he realised that the phone was still ringing. Grumbling, he reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the phone.
“What!” he half shouted, half grumbled.
“Carl? It’s Jim!”
“Oh. You. Do you realise what time it is man?”
“Yes, actually I do. It’s 10 o’clock.”
“Very funny. What do you want?”
“Are you looking for a job?”
Carl was suddenly wide awake. “Yes,” he replied cautiously. “Where shall we hook up?”
“I’ll come over to your place. I’ll be there in a couple of hours. So get your arse outta bed, Jones!”
The line went dead before Carl could unleash a four letter tirade down the phone at James.
London, England, May 20, 2024
The café was a dive. It stank of grease and heavily fried food, with just a hint of over-strong coffee. The bug zapper, hanging over the entrance to the kitchen, claimed another victim as a plump waitress bustled into the room carrying a plate of food.
The old man sitting behind the till sat biting his nails, with his eyes focused on the young woman sitting at the back of the room. His eyes didn’t seem to be able make their minds up as to what part of her body they would admire.
Sonja was aware of the man staring at her. She was starting to get irritated; she had come in fifteen minutes ago, and the man hadn’t been able to take his eyes away from her. She looked at her watch. He was late.
She sighed, and as she put the cup to her lips to take a sip of her coffee, her mind went back to this morning’s phone call. She recalled the monotonous voice that had asked her if she was available for hire as a mercenary, and if she was and interested in some work, she was to be at Bert’s Café by 4 o’clock.
So here she was, seated strategically next to the fire exit, in the grease pit that was Bert’s.
Her coffee was too sweet. She put the cup down on the table and looked past the old pervert, and out of the front window. A car had pulled up outside.
A giant of a man got out of the car, dressed in an immaculate black suit. He glanced around, then made a fast but graceful journey to the door of the café. As he stepped inside he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, looked at it, and then he looked up and around at the people seated in the café. His visual sweep stopped on her, and walked to Sonja’s table.
“Miss Radchenko?” he asked quietly.
“Yes, that’s me,” Sonja replied.
“How do you do? My name is James Carter. I am here about a job.”
He held out his hand, and as Sonja shook it, she looked at him closely. It seemed to her that Mr Carter was completely at ease with these types of meetings. “Please,” she said, “take a seat.”
James sat down.
“So,” Sonja asked, “was the traffic bad?”
“Yes. My apologies,” James said.
“Right,” Sonja said, almost sarcastically.
“So, er, you found the place Ok?” asked James. He seemed slightly taken aback by her bad mood.
“Look James, let’s do this quickly, Ok? I’m sure I don’t like being here any more than you do. This place stinks,” Sonja snapped suddenly, shooting a piercing glance at the man behind the till. She turned her eyes away from the now scowling man, and continued in a lowered voice; “What’s the job?”
James leant forward, a half amused smile breaking out over his face at her outburst. “I have been asked to find and capture some people,” he said.
“Continue.”
“You will be one of the guns in a four man team.”
Sonja frowned. She decided to find out if this job was worth her time. “What’s the payoff?”
“Five million for each member of our team.”
Sonja leaned back in her chair, stunned. That was a lot of money. This must be dangerous indeed. She looked at James. The smile was gone. He was deadly serious.
“Any questions?” James asked.
“Will the client provide funding for our equipment?” Sonja asked.
“Ah yes, equipment. I plan to give them a shopping list.”
“What can they get?”
“Anything the US military have access to, they have access to."
Sonja looked at him. James' facial expression maintained that deadly serious look. “I’m in,” she said.
“Fine,” James said, looking at his watch. “Well, it’s about time we went,” he said, a smile breaking out over his face again.
“Right,” she replied, smiling back at him.
They stood up and walked towards the door. As they approached the old man, James turned to Sonja. “This place really does stink!” he quipped.
Sonja snorted out loud with laughter. She looked toward the till and noticed that the old man wasn’t admiring her anymore. Instead, he was scowling at her.
She made a detour to the till. The old man looked slightly surprised by this, but still watched her steadily. Stopping in front of him, she leaned forward and beckoned him forward with her finger. He obliged.
“What?” he said.
“Take a picture asshole, it’ll last longer.”
The waitress had been watching from the door, and now she burst out laughing. “Got you there, Bert!” she laughed.
Bert was stunned, but he quickly recovered. “What?” he said angrily.
Sonja smiled coldly, her icy blue eyes indicating to Bert that he shouldn’t try anything. Whether or not Bert noticed this warning, was another matter altogether.
“You heard,” she said as she turned and continued toward the door, where James had stopped to wait for her.
Bert, obviously embarrassed, looked down and began muttering loudly to himself about ‘stupid women’.
The waitress took offense to his mutterings. “You know what Bert? You should listen to your customers. You are an arsehole,” she said.
Sonja didn’t wait to hear Bert’s response. She stepped out onto the quiet backstreet. The heat was intense. Sonja put her sunglasses on, and followed James over to the car.
Sonja opened the door and got in. It appeared that James wasn’t going to be driving; there was someone else in the car.
“Carl, this is Sonja. Sonja, this is Carl,” said James.
“Hi,” said Carl.
Croydon, England, May 20, 2024
James got out of the car and looked around. The evening, in direct contrast to the day, was cool and pleasant, despite it still being light. The bar across the street was bright, and despite a somewhat shabby appearance, looked quite inviting. A soft thumping noise could be heard as the bar’s sound system played some classic house music.
On the other side of the car, Sonja opened her door and got out. She looked across the street, and smiled.
“Are you serious?” she asked. “The East Side Bar may look like a nice place, but it isn’t.”
“I know. That’s why you’re coming with me,” James replied.
Sonja closed her door, and moved around the car to where James was. “Would you like a drink?” she asked.
James turned to see her smiling at him, and smiled back. He was already starting to like Sonja. After her initial bad mood, she had calmed down and was even having a laugh with Carl and himself on the short trip down to Croydon from north London.
“Yes,” he said. Then he grew serious. “Are you carrying?” he asked.
“Always.”
“What is it?”
“Glock 17.”
“Hmm...” James was impressed. “What do they say about great minds thinking alike?”
Sonja chuckled. “I take it that’s yours too?”
“Always,” said James. He bent down and peered into the car. Carl looked up at him. “Stay frosty, alright CJ?”
“Course bruv,” came the reply.
James closed the door, and he and Sonja walked across the street. As the two mercenaries approached the bar, the thumping gradually turned into music. A heavily built man stood outside, smoking a joint. He watched them draw closer, then, as James turned to walk into the bar, he stepped in front of them. James prepared for a confrontation.
“Where do think you’re going?” he snarled.
James held his gaze. “Inside,” he replied.
“Wrong! So take your bitch and get lost!”
Sonja stepped forward, but James put his arm out, blocking her way. “Be cool,” he said quietly, before turning back to the thug. “Look mate, there’s no need for that, Ok? We’re here to see Sullivan, alright?”
A curious look appeared on the guy’s face. “Really?” he asked cautiously. “What are you, the filth?”
James smiled. ”No, we aren’t police.”
“Alright, go in. But I’m clocking you, understand?”
James nodded, and the guy stood aside. As they walked passed him, Sonja flashed him an icy blue glance. She desperately wanted to land a well placed uppercut on his jaw, but business came first. Her discipline held firm, and she followed James inside.
[edit on 14-1-2005 by Daystar]
London, England, May 20, 2024
James walked out of the café. In one hand he held a doughnut, and in the other the doughnut’s paper bag. Surveying the street, he took a bite from the doughnut.
Good. There were no police officers to be seen. Finishing the doughnut, James walked slowly over to the payphone.
Rather than throw away the bag, he held onto it. He pulled a stick of chewing gum from his pocket, unwrapped it, and popped into his mouth, then looked up and down the street again.
Still no police.
Chewing furiously, he held the bag up in front of his face, wrenched the phonebooth’s door open and stepped inside. He then pushed the bag forward to where he knew the camera would be, and just before the bag hit the camera’s lens, he took the chewing gum from his mouth and put it on the lens. He then pressed the bag down hard onto the lens.
With his privacy assured, James pulled the list of numbers from his pocket and lifted the receiver.
Reading, England, May 20, 2024
The phone rang.
Carl chose to ignore it. Sleep was more important at this time. He turned over and closed his eyes.
Shortly afterwards, he realised that the phone was still ringing. Grumbling, he reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the phone.
“What!” he half shouted, half grumbled.
“Carl? It’s Jim!”
“Oh. You. Do you realise what time it is man?”
“Yes, actually I do. It’s 10 o’clock.”
“Very funny. What do you want?”
“Are you looking for a job?”
Carl was suddenly wide awake. “Yes,” he replied cautiously. “Where shall we hook up?”
“I’ll come over to your place. I’ll be there in a couple of hours. So get your arse outta bed, Jones!”
The line went dead before Carl could unleash a four letter tirade down the phone at James.
London, England, May 20, 2024
The café was a dive. It stank of grease and heavily fried food, with just a hint of over-strong coffee. The bug zapper, hanging over the entrance to the kitchen, claimed another victim as a plump waitress bustled into the room carrying a plate of food.
The old man sitting behind the till sat biting his nails, with his eyes focused on the young woman sitting at the back of the room. His eyes didn’t seem to be able make their minds up as to what part of her body they would admire.
Sonja was aware of the man staring at her. She was starting to get irritated; she had come in fifteen minutes ago, and the man hadn’t been able to take his eyes away from her. She looked at her watch. He was late.
She sighed, and as she put the cup to her lips to take a sip of her coffee, her mind went back to this morning’s phone call. She recalled the monotonous voice that had asked her if she was available for hire as a mercenary, and if she was and interested in some work, she was to be at Bert’s Café by 4 o’clock.
So here she was, seated strategically next to the fire exit, in the grease pit that was Bert’s.
Her coffee was too sweet. She put the cup down on the table and looked past the old pervert, and out of the front window. A car had pulled up outside.
A giant of a man got out of the car, dressed in an immaculate black suit. He glanced around, then made a fast but graceful journey to the door of the café. As he stepped inside he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, looked at it, and then he looked up and around at the people seated in the café. His visual sweep stopped on her, and walked to Sonja’s table.
“Miss Radchenko?” he asked quietly.
“Yes, that’s me,” Sonja replied.
“How do you do? My name is James Carter. I am here about a job.”
He held out his hand, and as Sonja shook it, she looked at him closely. It seemed to her that Mr Carter was completely at ease with these types of meetings. “Please,” she said, “take a seat.”
James sat down.
“So,” Sonja asked, “was the traffic bad?”
“Yes. My apologies,” James said.
“Right,” Sonja said, almost sarcastically.
“So, er, you found the place Ok?” asked James. He seemed slightly taken aback by her bad mood.
“Look James, let’s do this quickly, Ok? I’m sure I don’t like being here any more than you do. This place stinks,” Sonja snapped suddenly, shooting a piercing glance at the man behind the till. She turned her eyes away from the now scowling man, and continued in a lowered voice; “What’s the job?”
James leant forward, a half amused smile breaking out over his face at her outburst. “I have been asked to find and capture some people,” he said.
“Continue.”
“You will be one of the guns in a four man team.”
Sonja frowned. She decided to find out if this job was worth her time. “What’s the payoff?”
“Five million for each member of our team.”
Sonja leaned back in her chair, stunned. That was a lot of money. This must be dangerous indeed. She looked at James. The smile was gone. He was deadly serious.
“Any questions?” James asked.
“Will the client provide funding for our equipment?” Sonja asked.
“Ah yes, equipment. I plan to give them a shopping list.”
“What can they get?”
“Anything the US military have access to, they have access to."
Sonja looked at him. James' facial expression maintained that deadly serious look. “I’m in,” she said.
“Fine,” James said, looking at his watch. “Well, it’s about time we went,” he said, a smile breaking out over his face again.
“Right,” she replied, smiling back at him.
They stood up and walked towards the door. As they approached the old man, James turned to Sonja. “This place really does stink!” he quipped.
Sonja snorted out loud with laughter. She looked toward the till and noticed that the old man wasn’t admiring her anymore. Instead, he was scowling at her.
She made a detour to the till. The old man looked slightly surprised by this, but still watched her steadily. Stopping in front of him, she leaned forward and beckoned him forward with her finger. He obliged.
“What?” he said.
“Take a picture asshole, it’ll last longer.”
The waitress had been watching from the door, and now she burst out laughing. “Got you there, Bert!” she laughed.
Bert was stunned, but he quickly recovered. “What?” he said angrily.
Sonja smiled coldly, her icy blue eyes indicating to Bert that he shouldn’t try anything. Whether or not Bert noticed this warning, was another matter altogether.
“You heard,” she said as she turned and continued toward the door, where James had stopped to wait for her.
Bert, obviously embarrassed, looked down and began muttering loudly to himself about ‘stupid women’.
The waitress took offense to his mutterings. “You know what Bert? You should listen to your customers. You are an arsehole,” she said.
Sonja didn’t wait to hear Bert’s response. She stepped out onto the quiet backstreet. The heat was intense. Sonja put her sunglasses on, and followed James over to the car.
Sonja opened the door and got in. It appeared that James wasn’t going to be driving; there was someone else in the car.
“Carl, this is Sonja. Sonja, this is Carl,” said James.
“Hi,” said Carl.
Croydon, England, May 20, 2024
James got out of the car and looked around. The evening, in direct contrast to the day, was cool and pleasant, despite it still being light. The bar across the street was bright, and despite a somewhat shabby appearance, looked quite inviting. A soft thumping noise could be heard as the bar’s sound system played some classic house music.
On the other side of the car, Sonja opened her door and got out. She looked across the street, and smiled.
“Are you serious?” she asked. “The East Side Bar may look like a nice place, but it isn’t.”
“I know. That’s why you’re coming with me,” James replied.
Sonja closed her door, and moved around the car to where James was. “Would you like a drink?” she asked.
James turned to see her smiling at him, and smiled back. He was already starting to like Sonja. After her initial bad mood, she had calmed down and was even having a laugh with Carl and himself on the short trip down to Croydon from north London.
“Yes,” he said. Then he grew serious. “Are you carrying?” he asked.
“Always.”
“What is it?”
“Glock 17.”
“Hmm...” James was impressed. “What do they say about great minds thinking alike?”
Sonja chuckled. “I take it that’s yours too?”
“Always,” said James. He bent down and peered into the car. Carl looked up at him. “Stay frosty, alright CJ?”
“Course bruv,” came the reply.
James closed the door, and he and Sonja walked across the street. As the two mercenaries approached the bar, the thumping gradually turned into music. A heavily built man stood outside, smoking a joint. He watched them draw closer, then, as James turned to walk into the bar, he stepped in front of them. James prepared for a confrontation.
“Where do think you’re going?” he snarled.
James held his gaze. “Inside,” he replied.
“Wrong! So take your bitch and get lost!”
Sonja stepped forward, but James put his arm out, blocking her way. “Be cool,” he said quietly, before turning back to the thug. “Look mate, there’s no need for that, Ok? We’re here to see Sullivan, alright?”
A curious look appeared on the guy’s face. “Really?” he asked cautiously. “What are you, the filth?”
James smiled. ”No, we aren’t police.”
“Alright, go in. But I’m clocking you, understand?”
James nodded, and the guy stood aside. As they walked passed him, Sonja flashed him an icy blue glance. She desperately wanted to land a well placed uppercut on his jaw, but business came first. Her discipline held firm, and she followed James inside.
[edit on 14-1-2005 by Daystar]
Chapter Four - Back Alley Brawl
Daystar watched the mercenaries enter the bar, with his phone pressed to his ear. “Two are in the bar, but one is outside,” he said quietly.
“They’re probably picking up another merc,” said the voice at the other end of the line. “But we need to make sure. Go in and have a look, alright?”
“What about the tail?” Daystar asked, switching his gaze to the Corporate employee sitting in the car that was parked a little further down the street.
“Chop it off. But find out what the mercs are doing first,” came the reply.
“Right. See you later.”
“Bye.”
Daystar turned off his phone, and looked aside at Devilwasp. “I’m going in for a closer look,” he announced. He then leant forward, and opened the bag at his feet, and pulled a Desert Eagle from within.
“What do I do?” the young Scot asked.
“Stay here, and watch the cars. Anything happens, call me, Ok?”
“Ok.”
Daystar loaded the gun and stashed it in his jacket, before getting out of the car. Outside was pleasantly cool, and he didn’t feel quite such an idiot for wearing a jacket on a summers evening. It would pass for normal, and that was all that was necessary for his recce.
He crossed the road and approached the bar. The doorman quickly noticed him, and watched him approach, whilst still casually puffing away on his joint. Daystar grinned at the guy as he drew closer, before stopping in front of him. “Alright, mate?” he asked.
“Can I help you?” the guy asked suspiciously.
“Yeah… what’s that?” Daystar asked, gesturing towards the joint.
“Afghanistan’s finest,” the thug replied, maintaining that suspicious tone.
Daystar realised that he was in danger of looking out of place, and decided he would have to move up a level just to put the guy at ease. “Give us a puff,” he said, “I might be interested in a bit.”
The doorman visibly relaxed at this; the guy in front of him wasn’t a cop. Cops didn’t infiltrate anymore, they just arrested you or hurt you. He obliged, and handed over the spliff.
Daystar took a drag and passed it back. “That’s some good stuff. I’ll take a quart,” he said, exhaling slowly.
“Heh heh, alright bruv,” said the doorman, chuckling. “Go inside and speak to the guy behind the bar, and he’ll sort you out.”
“Alright mate, nice one.” Daystar walked past the guy and into the bar. The bar itself seemed like a nice place, it was the people who frequented it that gave it a bad name. At least the music was respectable, he thought as he strolled over to the bar.
Glancing from side to side as he walked, Daystar quickly spotted the impeccably dressed guy and the short haired woman at the other end of the bar. Daystar turned his attention from them and to the bored looking bartender who was now opposite him. “Hi mate,” Daystar said, leaning forward slightly, “the geezer outside told me to talk to you…”
“What you want?” the barman asked.
“A quarter.”
The bartender nodded and disappeared through a door behind the bar, and returned thirty seconds later with a small bag. He passed it to Daystar, who paid him and then asked for a pint. The barman poured him a pint and the young freedom fighter settled down to watch the two mercenaries.
He didn’t have long to wait. A guy entered the bar, and immediately he was noticed by the couple at the end of the bar. He made a beeline for them, and the trio moved to a small table in the corner. Daystar strained his ears to overhear their conversation, but to no avail. Still it looked like the commander was right; the suit and the woman seemed to be recruiting the other guy.
Daystar finished his pint, and headed for the door. He passed the doorman, who was busy harassing another punter, and headed down the street towards the Corporate spy’s car. He pulled out his phone and called Wasp.
“Alright?” Wasp asked.
“Yeah. I gotta get rid of this tail. If I’m not back in five…”
Wasp laughed. “I’ll come in and save your ar….”
“Whatever!” Daystar turned off his phone. He glanced across at the mercs’ car as he passed it, and was both amazed and amused to find the mercenary fast asleep. Subtlety would not be necessary to get the spy out of his car, it seemed. Just so long as he didn’t draw too much attention to himself. He crossed the street and moved up alongside the spy’s car door. Pulling the Desert Eagle from his jacket, he tapped the barrel lightly on the window.
Bob Trueman turned to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun. Whilst he was surprised, he didn’t let it show. The veteran had been in situations like this before. He slowly raised his hands.
Daystar slowly reached forward and opened the door, all the while keeping the gun aimed at the former soldier’s face. “Get out… slowly,” he said as he stepped back. Trueman complied, and climbed out of the car. Daystar circled around him and kicked at the car door, which slammed shut. “Move,” he continued, gesturing towards the alleyway next to them.
Trueman moved slowly into the alley, with Daystar following just out of striking distance. The kid is quite good, Trueman thought to himself. When this had happened in the past, his assailants always got too close. Still, the kid might yet make a mistake, and then Trueman would pounce.
They reached a point in the alley where it widened a little. Here, Daystar decided would be the best place. “Stop,” he said.
Trueman stopped as ordered. He would have to make a move, he decided, before it was too late. He braced himself, stepped back slightly, and in one fluid motion, spun around, his arms going from vertical to horizontal in an instant. His hand almost literally slapped the gun from Daystar’s hand.
Daystar’s natural reaction was to leap backward, and it was a good thing too, as Trueman’s other arm swung past , missing his face by inches. He had barely time to think before he realised that Trueman was advancing. He leapt backward again, only this time in the form of a flying kick. It seemed his only option at the time.
As it turned out, this was the break he needed. His foot caught Trueman in the stomach, and knocked the air out of the soldier. As Trueman staggered backwards, Daystar prepared to take him down with a crescent kick.
But Trueman had other ideas. As soon as the kid’s foot left the ground, he dropped to his knees, allowing the sweeping leg to pass harmlessly over his head. He then sprang up, and moved back slightly, raising his fists.
Daystar swore under his breath, and moved in on his opponent in an attempt to keep up the pressure. But Trueman was ready for him, and he began blocking every blow that the young fighter threw at him. Soon it became alarmingly obvious to Daystar that Trueman was a hard bastard. Not only that, he was a well-trained bastard, and there was an extremely high probability of losing to him. And the consequences of losing this fight didn’t bear thinking about.
When Trueman finally counterattacked, it caught Daystar by surprise. A savage right hook came from nowhere, and ploughed into the younger man’s left cheek. The force was such that it made Daystar loose his balance. He staggered back a few steps before falling over.
Trueman was on him in an instant, snarling like a wild animal. I am royally screwed now, Daystar thought.
Suddenly, a familiar voice sounded in the gathering gloom. “Hey!” Wasp shouted.
Bob Trueman looked up from his prey, to find himself once again looking down the barrel of a gun.
But his view didn’t last long. Wasp squeezed the trigger, and a sharp crack sounded. The force of the bullet almost lifted the dead man off Wasp’s stricken comrade.
“Are you alright?” Wasp asked, lowering the gun.
“Fine…” Daystar was breatheless. He knew how close he had come to his end. He kicked Trueman’s body off him, and struggled to his feet. “Thanks,” he continued, “you saved my arse.”
“I know,” Wasp said, a slight grin appearing on his face. “I believe this is yours,” he continued, passing Daystar his still-smoking Desert Eagle. He then moved over to Trueman’s corpse and searched it.
Daystar drew in a deep breath, and then looked down at his gun. A smile slowly spread across his face. “I don’t believe you,” he said. “Are you scared of using your own gun?”
Wasp pulled Trueman’s wallet from his pocket, and stood up. “I don’t believe you. I save your life, and you want to bitch about what gun I used?” he retorted.
Daystar laughed, but then winced as he felt a sharp pain on his cheek. “You get his ID?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Then let’s go before someone can be arsed to call the cops.”
Wasp nodded, and they hurried down the alley toward the street. Upon reaching it, they saw that the gunshot had hardly been registered by those outside of the alley. Indeed, the doorman at the bar was busy lighting up a new joint, and as they passed the mercenary’s car, they saw that the driver was still sleeping.
Wasp looked across at the bar, then back at the car. “I think now would be a good time to tag their car,” he said quietly.
“Good idea,” Daystar replied. “You got the tracker?”
“Of course.” Wasp reached into his pocket and pulled out the homing beacon. He bent down, and placed it under the car. He flicked the tiny switch, and pressed the magnetic plate onto the car’s underneath. He stood up, and they hurried back to their car.
“I need to call in and tell Hakan what the mercs are doing,” Daystar said, as they got into the car.
“Don’t bother,” Wasp said. “He phoned me. He wants to talk to us about those photos of that guy in the suit.”
“Fine. I’m bollocksed anyway, and I could do without following these bastards around all night.”
“Since I saved your life, I think the drinks should be on you when we’re done with Hakan. Mine’s a vodka.”
Daystar started the engine, and pulled out into the street. “You’re a bloody riot, you are,” he said.
Daystar watched the mercenaries enter the bar, with his phone pressed to his ear. “Two are in the bar, but one is outside,” he said quietly.
“They’re probably picking up another merc,” said the voice at the other end of the line. “But we need to make sure. Go in and have a look, alright?”
“What about the tail?” Daystar asked, switching his gaze to the Corporate employee sitting in the car that was parked a little further down the street.
“Chop it off. But find out what the mercs are doing first,” came the reply.
“Right. See you later.”
“Bye.”
Daystar turned off his phone, and looked aside at Devilwasp. “I’m going in for a closer look,” he announced. He then leant forward, and opened the bag at his feet, and pulled a Desert Eagle from within.
“What do I do?” the young Scot asked.
“Stay here, and watch the cars. Anything happens, call me, Ok?”
“Ok.”
Daystar loaded the gun and stashed it in his jacket, before getting out of the car. Outside was pleasantly cool, and he didn’t feel quite such an idiot for wearing a jacket on a summers evening. It would pass for normal, and that was all that was necessary for his recce.
He crossed the road and approached the bar. The doorman quickly noticed him, and watched him approach, whilst still casually puffing away on his joint. Daystar grinned at the guy as he drew closer, before stopping in front of him. “Alright, mate?” he asked.
“Can I help you?” the guy asked suspiciously.
“Yeah… what’s that?” Daystar asked, gesturing towards the joint.
“Afghanistan’s finest,” the thug replied, maintaining that suspicious tone.
Daystar realised that he was in danger of looking out of place, and decided he would have to move up a level just to put the guy at ease. “Give us a puff,” he said, “I might be interested in a bit.”
The doorman visibly relaxed at this; the guy in front of him wasn’t a cop. Cops didn’t infiltrate anymore, they just arrested you or hurt you. He obliged, and handed over the spliff.
Daystar took a drag and passed it back. “That’s some good stuff. I’ll take a quart,” he said, exhaling slowly.
“Heh heh, alright bruv,” said the doorman, chuckling. “Go inside and speak to the guy behind the bar, and he’ll sort you out.”
“Alright mate, nice one.” Daystar walked past the guy and into the bar. The bar itself seemed like a nice place, it was the people who frequented it that gave it a bad name. At least the music was respectable, he thought as he strolled over to the bar.
Glancing from side to side as he walked, Daystar quickly spotted the impeccably dressed guy and the short haired woman at the other end of the bar. Daystar turned his attention from them and to the bored looking bartender who was now opposite him. “Hi mate,” Daystar said, leaning forward slightly, “the geezer outside told me to talk to you…”
“What you want?” the barman asked.
“A quarter.”
The bartender nodded and disappeared through a door behind the bar, and returned thirty seconds later with a small bag. He passed it to Daystar, who paid him and then asked for a pint. The barman poured him a pint and the young freedom fighter settled down to watch the two mercenaries.
He didn’t have long to wait. A guy entered the bar, and immediately he was noticed by the couple at the end of the bar. He made a beeline for them, and the trio moved to a small table in the corner. Daystar strained his ears to overhear their conversation, but to no avail. Still it looked like the commander was right; the suit and the woman seemed to be recruiting the other guy.
Daystar finished his pint, and headed for the door. He passed the doorman, who was busy harassing another punter, and headed down the street towards the Corporate spy’s car. He pulled out his phone and called Wasp.
“Alright?” Wasp asked.
“Yeah. I gotta get rid of this tail. If I’m not back in five…”
Wasp laughed. “I’ll come in and save your ar….”
“Whatever!” Daystar turned off his phone. He glanced across at the mercs’ car as he passed it, and was both amazed and amused to find the mercenary fast asleep. Subtlety would not be necessary to get the spy out of his car, it seemed. Just so long as he didn’t draw too much attention to himself. He crossed the street and moved up alongside the spy’s car door. Pulling the Desert Eagle from his jacket, he tapped the barrel lightly on the window.
Bob Trueman turned to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun. Whilst he was surprised, he didn’t let it show. The veteran had been in situations like this before. He slowly raised his hands.
Daystar slowly reached forward and opened the door, all the while keeping the gun aimed at the former soldier’s face. “Get out… slowly,” he said as he stepped back. Trueman complied, and climbed out of the car. Daystar circled around him and kicked at the car door, which slammed shut. “Move,” he continued, gesturing towards the alleyway next to them.
Trueman moved slowly into the alley, with Daystar following just out of striking distance. The kid is quite good, Trueman thought to himself. When this had happened in the past, his assailants always got too close. Still, the kid might yet make a mistake, and then Trueman would pounce.
They reached a point in the alley where it widened a little. Here, Daystar decided would be the best place. “Stop,” he said.
Trueman stopped as ordered. He would have to make a move, he decided, before it was too late. He braced himself, stepped back slightly, and in one fluid motion, spun around, his arms going from vertical to horizontal in an instant. His hand almost literally slapped the gun from Daystar’s hand.
Daystar’s natural reaction was to leap backward, and it was a good thing too, as Trueman’s other arm swung past , missing his face by inches. He had barely time to think before he realised that Trueman was advancing. He leapt backward again, only this time in the form of a flying kick. It seemed his only option at the time.
As it turned out, this was the break he needed. His foot caught Trueman in the stomach, and knocked the air out of the soldier. As Trueman staggered backwards, Daystar prepared to take him down with a crescent kick.
But Trueman had other ideas. As soon as the kid’s foot left the ground, he dropped to his knees, allowing the sweeping leg to pass harmlessly over his head. He then sprang up, and moved back slightly, raising his fists.
Daystar swore under his breath, and moved in on his opponent in an attempt to keep up the pressure. But Trueman was ready for him, and he began blocking every blow that the young fighter threw at him. Soon it became alarmingly obvious to Daystar that Trueman was a hard bastard. Not only that, he was a well-trained bastard, and there was an extremely high probability of losing to him. And the consequences of losing this fight didn’t bear thinking about.
When Trueman finally counterattacked, it caught Daystar by surprise. A savage right hook came from nowhere, and ploughed into the younger man’s left cheek. The force was such that it made Daystar loose his balance. He staggered back a few steps before falling over.
Trueman was on him in an instant, snarling like a wild animal. I am royally screwed now, Daystar thought.
Suddenly, a familiar voice sounded in the gathering gloom. “Hey!” Wasp shouted.
Bob Trueman looked up from his prey, to find himself once again looking down the barrel of a gun.
But his view didn’t last long. Wasp squeezed the trigger, and a sharp crack sounded. The force of the bullet almost lifted the dead man off Wasp’s stricken comrade.
“Are you alright?” Wasp asked, lowering the gun.
“Fine…” Daystar was breatheless. He knew how close he had come to his end. He kicked Trueman’s body off him, and struggled to his feet. “Thanks,” he continued, “you saved my arse.”
“I know,” Wasp said, a slight grin appearing on his face. “I believe this is yours,” he continued, passing Daystar his still-smoking Desert Eagle. He then moved over to Trueman’s corpse and searched it.
Daystar drew in a deep breath, and then looked down at his gun. A smile slowly spread across his face. “I don’t believe you,” he said. “Are you scared of using your own gun?”
Wasp pulled Trueman’s wallet from his pocket, and stood up. “I don’t believe you. I save your life, and you want to bitch about what gun I used?” he retorted.
Daystar laughed, but then winced as he felt a sharp pain on his cheek. “You get his ID?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Then let’s go before someone can be arsed to call the cops.”
Wasp nodded, and they hurried down the alley toward the street. Upon reaching it, they saw that the gunshot had hardly been registered by those outside of the alley. Indeed, the doorman at the bar was busy lighting up a new joint, and as they passed the mercenary’s car, they saw that the driver was still sleeping.
Wasp looked across at the bar, then back at the car. “I think now would be a good time to tag their car,” he said quietly.
“Good idea,” Daystar replied. “You got the tracker?”
“Of course.” Wasp reached into his pocket and pulled out the homing beacon. He bent down, and placed it under the car. He flicked the tiny switch, and pressed the magnetic plate onto the car’s underneath. He stood up, and they hurried back to their car.
“I need to call in and tell Hakan what the mercs are doing,” Daystar said, as they got into the car.
“Don’t bother,” Wasp said. “He phoned me. He wants to talk to us about those photos of that guy in the suit.”
“Fine. I’m bollocksed anyway, and I could do without following these bastards around all night.”
“Since I saved your life, I think the drinks should be on you when we’re done with Hakan. Mine’s a vodka.”
Daystar started the engine, and pulled out into the street. “You’re a bloody riot, you are,” he said.
Nice!
Try and break up the lengths of text though mate, gets a bit sore on the eyes.
But still fantastic....though i am a bit biased.
thank you guys! glad you liked!
i must apologise for the dodgy ?s that keep popping up in the first two chapters. i have no idea how they got there they are supposed to be speech marks
i must apologise for the dodgy ?s that keep popping up in the first two chapters. i have no idea how they got there they are supposed to be speech marks
The new server does not accept "special characters". Please convert characters such as "curly quotes" to normal text quotes.
Try going through and redoing the quotes.
Try going through and redoing the quotes.
Chapter Five - An Old Foe
Nick leant back in his chair, eyeing the couple across the table from him. They had just laid down an intriguing proposition. Find and capture a group of terrorists. Capture them. Nick had never heard that one before. It was usually ‘find so and so, and kill him’, or ‘find so and so, and blow his legs off’. However, there was always a first time for everything, and for five million, Nick Sullivan would take on anything.
“I’m in,” he said.
James smiled at him. “Excellent!” he said. “We should get going, we need to prepare a list of the equipment that we will need from our employers.”
“Right,” said Nick, standing up. “Let’s go.”
James and Sonja got up from the table and followed Nick out of the bar. It was now dark, and the lights of the numerous towerblocks of Croydon were flickering on. Across the street, James could see Carl sleeping in the car. Prat, he thought as he headed towards the vehicle. He quietly opened the door, and looked inside. “Oi!” he shouted.
Carl jumped a mile. “Jesus bloody Christ!” he yelled, instantly wide awake. “Hell you tryin’ to do? Kill me?”
“No, but someone else could have,” James said, getting into the car. Behind him, Nick looked at Sonja. Sonja smiled and shrugged her shoulders. They got in the car.
“How are feeling Carl?” Sonja asked sweetly.
“Like I need to change my shorts.”
James laughed. “This is Nick, by the way,” he said.
“Hi,” said Nick, desperately trying not to laugh.
“Hi,” Carl replied. He looked at James. “So where to now, arsehole?”
“Back to the house. We need to sort out this gear, and sort out our bank details for payment.”
Carl started the car and sent the car rolling forward. He looked aside to see James laughing silently into his lap.
“Jim?” he said.
“Yeah?”
“You are a complete tosser.”
The car erupted into mirth as it began the journey back to the safehouse.
London, England, May 20, 2024
Daystar pulled over, and switched off the engine. His face was really starting to hurt. He looked into the rearview mirror, and saw a massive tear on his cheek, with a trail of blood moving slowly down his face. “That guy must have hit me bloody hard,” he complained.
“Ouch,” said Wasp, in mock sympathy.
“I’m going to be having a nasty looking scar there, I think.”
“Scarface!”
“Fock you mang,” said Daystar, in his best Tony Montana impression. He got out of the car and slammed the door shut. Wasp got out the other side and looked across the roof of the car.
“At least there is one benefit,” he said.
“To having my face caved in?”
“Yeah. You make me look even better when I stand next to you!”
Daystar smiled at him. “Funny. Absolutely bleedin’ hilarious.”
“Thanks!” Wasp shut his door and moved round the car. Daystar locked it, and the pair walked over to the house on the other side of the quiet little residential street. As they drew near to the house, the front door opened, and a man walked gracefully out into the street. They recognized him immediately; there was no mistaking that arrogant pose. Mickey Hillier, one of Hakan’s closest. “Oh for feck sake,” Wasp said almost inaudibly. “What the hell is he doing here?”
“Probably kissing some arse,” said Daystar in a less than subtle manner. He watched Hillier’s face, and smiled as he saw the comment register.
“Where the hell have you two been?” he asked.
“Working. How about you?” Wasp asked.
“Speaking with Hakan,” Hillier replied.
“Again? What a strenuous life you lead, Mickey,” Daystar said. “I sincerely hope I don’t have to actually rely on you someday.”
Anger flashed across Mickey’s face. “Whatever,” he snapped. “Hakan wants to see you both immediately!” With that, he turned and stomped away.
Daystar and Wasp watched him leave. “I swear that guy drives me up the wall,” Daystar said. “All he has ever done is boss other people around.”
“Have faith,” Wasp said, turning back to face the house. “Hakan will realise what a manipulative piece of crap he is one day.”
“I hope you’re right Wasp, I really do. Because I wouldn’t put it past that bastard to grass on us if it meant he could save his skin.”
Hakan stood at his desk, reading a copy of the Koran. He delicately turned the page, and was about to continue, when there was a knock on the study’s door. He closed the holy book, and walked over to the door. Upon opening it, he saw Daystar and Wasp. “Ah! My friends!” Hakan exclaimed.
“Hi Hak,” Wasp said. “Is Alex about?”
“Yes, she is. Why…” Hakan noticed the cut on Daystar’s face. “Ah, I see. Are you alright?”
“Just about,” Daystar said. He looked tired.
“Alex!” Hakan called.
Alex appeared from the living room. “Whats the matter?” she asked.
“We have a patient for you,” Hakan said. “Daystar’s been hurt.”
Alex advanced down the hall to where the trio stood. “Let me see,” she said quietly.
“I bet that stings,” she said as Daystar turned to face her.
“Uh huh.”
“Right. Stitches and painkillers for you. Follow me.”
Daystar followed Alex into the kitchen, where the first aid kit was, leaving Wasp and Hakan alone. “Come,” said Hakan, “you need to tell me what happened.”
Wasp followed him into the book-lined study, and closed the door behind him. They sat down, and Wasp began to tell him what had occurred.
“Daystar went into the bar after speaking to you. I waited outside, watching the merc’s car and the spy. Then he came out of the bar and phoned me.”
“What did he say?”
“He said that he was going to take out that spy. He told me to come after him if he wasn’t back in five minutes. So I waited, and then you phoned me. After I spoke to you, I went to look for him. I saw them struggling, so I shot the spy.”
“How do you feel?” Hakan asked. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, just a little bit of an adrenaline rush, that’s all. I did what I had to do,” Wasp replied.
“Well, you know where I am if you need to talk.”
“Thanks,” Wasp said. He had a lot of respect for the Turk sitting opposite him, as did almost everyone who knew him. Hakan was an imam, but he was totally respectful of the fact that not everyone felt the call to Allah. To his non-Islamic followers, the priest was a counsellor rather than a spiritual guide, and he was a father figure to all. The grey haired resistance leader had been fighting for years, and now that he was growing old, it was his mission to help usher in the next generation of the rebellion, a job he took very seriously indeed.
“What on earth happened to you?” Alex asked.
“Well, I had to take someone out. But he got desperate, and lashed out. I had to fight him, and it got a bit crazy,” Daystar explained.
“Well, don’t worry. I’ll fix this for you.” Alex cleaned the wound, and then proceeded to stitch it together.
“So,” Daystar said when she had finished, “What did Hillier want?”
Alex’s face darkened. “He came to talk to Hak about Andy’s operation. Apparently the police, the military, and the Corporation are pissed. There are gonna be serious repercussions from this, D.”
“I’m not surprised. I bet Mickey laid it on thick too, right?”
“As always.”
Daystar sighed. “I don’t trust that guy, Al.”
“Neither does anyone else. Except for Hak,” Alex said. She handed Daystar a couple of pills. “Take these, and then you better go back to the study, Ok?”
“Alright. Cheers Al.”
Daystar swallowed the pills, got up from his stool, and walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway to the study. He knocked on the door and opened it.
“Ah, good!” said Hakan. “Feel a little better?”
“I’ll be Ok, Alex gave me some tablets.”
“Good. Come in and sit down, I need to speak with you both.”
Daystar closed the door behind him, and sat in the chair next to Wasp’s.
Hakan pulled a piece of paper from his desk drawer. It was a computer printout, and on it were several photographs. “I received these photos in the email you sent to me, Wasp,” he said. “As we know, this man has probably been hired to find us. But what the Corporation does not know, is that I have faced this man before.”
Hakan paused to let the information sink in, before continuing. “This man is one James Carter, formerly of the Security Service. He was one of the only people on the other side who got close to me. Now he is retired from official duty, it would appear, and is now a mercenary.”
“What are we going to do?” Daystar asked.
“Well, if I know Mr Carter, he will have picked the best people he can find to help him. Therefore it will be difficult to take them out, and no doubt they would be able to call reinforcements. However we have a chance to shut him down; he will probably start trying to find out where the explosive that Andrew used came from.”
“Romanov?” Daystar said.
“Yes. We need to take him out. This should put sufficient distance between us and the mercenaries.”
“That won’t be easy; he has bodygaurds. What do you propose?” Wasp asked.
“We will have to send in a team.” Hakan replied. He turned to Daystar. “Get some people together. We need to plan and execute this as soon as possible.”
“I’m on it,” Daystar replied.
[edit on 16-1-2005 by Daystar]
Nick leant back in his chair, eyeing the couple across the table from him. They had just laid down an intriguing proposition. Find and capture a group of terrorists. Capture them. Nick had never heard that one before. It was usually ‘find so and so, and kill him’, or ‘find so and so, and blow his legs off’. However, there was always a first time for everything, and for five million, Nick Sullivan would take on anything.
“I’m in,” he said.
James smiled at him. “Excellent!” he said. “We should get going, we need to prepare a list of the equipment that we will need from our employers.”
“Right,” said Nick, standing up. “Let’s go.”
James and Sonja got up from the table and followed Nick out of the bar. It was now dark, and the lights of the numerous towerblocks of Croydon were flickering on. Across the street, James could see Carl sleeping in the car. Prat, he thought as he headed towards the vehicle. He quietly opened the door, and looked inside. “Oi!” he shouted.
Carl jumped a mile. “Jesus bloody Christ!” he yelled, instantly wide awake. “Hell you tryin’ to do? Kill me?”
“No, but someone else could have,” James said, getting into the car. Behind him, Nick looked at Sonja. Sonja smiled and shrugged her shoulders. They got in the car.
“How are feeling Carl?” Sonja asked sweetly.
“Like I need to change my shorts.”
James laughed. “This is Nick, by the way,” he said.
“Hi,” said Nick, desperately trying not to laugh.
“Hi,” Carl replied. He looked at James. “So where to now, arsehole?”
“Back to the house. We need to sort out this gear, and sort out our bank details for payment.”
Carl started the car and sent the car rolling forward. He looked aside to see James laughing silently into his lap.
“Jim?” he said.
“Yeah?”
“You are a complete tosser.”
The car erupted into mirth as it began the journey back to the safehouse.
London, England, May 20, 2024
Daystar pulled over, and switched off the engine. His face was really starting to hurt. He looked into the rearview mirror, and saw a massive tear on his cheek, with a trail of blood moving slowly down his face. “That guy must have hit me bloody hard,” he complained.
“Ouch,” said Wasp, in mock sympathy.
“I’m going to be having a nasty looking scar there, I think.”
“Scarface!”
“Fock you mang,” said Daystar, in his best Tony Montana impression. He got out of the car and slammed the door shut. Wasp got out the other side and looked across the roof of the car.
“At least there is one benefit,” he said.
“To having my face caved in?”
“Yeah. You make me look even better when I stand next to you!”
Daystar smiled at him. “Funny. Absolutely bleedin’ hilarious.”
“Thanks!” Wasp shut his door and moved round the car. Daystar locked it, and the pair walked over to the house on the other side of the quiet little residential street. As they drew near to the house, the front door opened, and a man walked gracefully out into the street. They recognized him immediately; there was no mistaking that arrogant pose. Mickey Hillier, one of Hakan’s closest. “Oh for feck sake,” Wasp said almost inaudibly. “What the hell is he doing here?”
“Probably kissing some arse,” said Daystar in a less than subtle manner. He watched Hillier’s face, and smiled as he saw the comment register.
“Where the hell have you two been?” he asked.
“Working. How about you?” Wasp asked.
“Speaking with Hakan,” Hillier replied.
“Again? What a strenuous life you lead, Mickey,” Daystar said. “I sincerely hope I don’t have to actually rely on you someday.”
Anger flashed across Mickey’s face. “Whatever,” he snapped. “Hakan wants to see you both immediately!” With that, he turned and stomped away.
Daystar and Wasp watched him leave. “I swear that guy drives me up the wall,” Daystar said. “All he has ever done is boss other people around.”
“Have faith,” Wasp said, turning back to face the house. “Hakan will realise what a manipulative piece of crap he is one day.”
“I hope you’re right Wasp, I really do. Because I wouldn’t put it past that bastard to grass on us if it meant he could save his skin.”
Hakan stood at his desk, reading a copy of the Koran. He delicately turned the page, and was about to continue, when there was a knock on the study’s door. He closed the holy book, and walked over to the door. Upon opening it, he saw Daystar and Wasp. “Ah! My friends!” Hakan exclaimed.
“Hi Hak,” Wasp said. “Is Alex about?”
“Yes, she is. Why…” Hakan noticed the cut on Daystar’s face. “Ah, I see. Are you alright?”
“Just about,” Daystar said. He looked tired.
“Alex!” Hakan called.
Alex appeared from the living room. “Whats the matter?” she asked.
“We have a patient for you,” Hakan said. “Daystar’s been hurt.”
Alex advanced down the hall to where the trio stood. “Let me see,” she said quietly.
“I bet that stings,” she said as Daystar turned to face her.
“Uh huh.”
“Right. Stitches and painkillers for you. Follow me.”
Daystar followed Alex into the kitchen, where the first aid kit was, leaving Wasp and Hakan alone. “Come,” said Hakan, “you need to tell me what happened.”
Wasp followed him into the book-lined study, and closed the door behind him. They sat down, and Wasp began to tell him what had occurred.
“Daystar went into the bar after speaking to you. I waited outside, watching the merc’s car and the spy. Then he came out of the bar and phoned me.”
“What did he say?”
“He said that he was going to take out that spy. He told me to come after him if he wasn’t back in five minutes. So I waited, and then you phoned me. After I spoke to you, I went to look for him. I saw them struggling, so I shot the spy.”
“How do you feel?” Hakan asked. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, just a little bit of an adrenaline rush, that’s all. I did what I had to do,” Wasp replied.
“Well, you know where I am if you need to talk.”
“Thanks,” Wasp said. He had a lot of respect for the Turk sitting opposite him, as did almost everyone who knew him. Hakan was an imam, but he was totally respectful of the fact that not everyone felt the call to Allah. To his non-Islamic followers, the priest was a counsellor rather than a spiritual guide, and he was a father figure to all. The grey haired resistance leader had been fighting for years, and now that he was growing old, it was his mission to help usher in the next generation of the rebellion, a job he took very seriously indeed.
“What on earth happened to you?” Alex asked.
“Well, I had to take someone out. But he got desperate, and lashed out. I had to fight him, and it got a bit crazy,” Daystar explained.
“Well, don’t worry. I’ll fix this for you.” Alex cleaned the wound, and then proceeded to stitch it together.
“So,” Daystar said when she had finished, “What did Hillier want?”
Alex’s face darkened. “He came to talk to Hak about Andy’s operation. Apparently the police, the military, and the Corporation are pissed. There are gonna be serious repercussions from this, D.”
“I’m not surprised. I bet Mickey laid it on thick too, right?”
“As always.”
Daystar sighed. “I don’t trust that guy, Al.”
“Neither does anyone else. Except for Hak,” Alex said. She handed Daystar a couple of pills. “Take these, and then you better go back to the study, Ok?”
“Alright. Cheers Al.”
Daystar swallowed the pills, got up from his stool, and walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway to the study. He knocked on the door and opened it.
“Ah, good!” said Hakan. “Feel a little better?”
“I’ll be Ok, Alex gave me some tablets.”
“Good. Come in and sit down, I need to speak with you both.”
Daystar closed the door behind him, and sat in the chair next to Wasp’s.
Hakan pulled a piece of paper from his desk drawer. It was a computer printout, and on it were several photographs. “I received these photos in the email you sent to me, Wasp,” he said. “As we know, this man has probably been hired to find us. But what the Corporation does not know, is that I have faced this man before.”
Hakan paused to let the information sink in, before continuing. “This man is one James Carter, formerly of the Security Service. He was one of the only people on the other side who got close to me. Now he is retired from official duty, it would appear, and is now a mercenary.”
“What are we going to do?” Daystar asked.
“Well, if I know Mr Carter, he will have picked the best people he can find to help him. Therefore it will be difficult to take them out, and no doubt they would be able to call reinforcements. However we have a chance to shut him down; he will probably start trying to find out where the explosive that Andrew used came from.”
“Romanov?” Daystar said.
“Yes. We need to take him out. This should put sufficient distance between us and the mercenaries.”
“That won’t be easy; he has bodygaurds. What do you propose?” Wasp asked.
“We will have to send in a team.” Hakan replied. He turned to Daystar. “Get some people together. We need to plan and execute this as soon as possible.”
“I’m on it,” Daystar replied.
[edit on 16-1-2005 by Daystar]
glad you like mac
Chapter six might be a bit long, but it will be building up to what i hope will be an explosive chapter seven
also i will be trying to fit in some near future military tech
Chapter six might be a bit long, but it will be building up to what i hope will be an explosive chapter seven
also i will be trying to fit in some near future military tech
Chapter Six - Assembling The Team
The four mercenaries sat around the table in the kitchen of James’ safehouse. They had been preparing a list of weapons and equipment that they would need for their mission.
“So,” James said, “is this all we will need?” He scanned the list, and then looked at Nick and Sonja.
“As far as I’m concerned, that is all we will need,” Nick replied.
“And besides, we can always get more equipment from them if need be,” Sonja added.
“Ok then. I’ll go and place our order.” He picked up a sheet of paper from the table. “And these are the bank details?”
“Yes,” Sonja replied.
James got up and left the room, and Carl got up from the table and walked over to where the kettle was boiling. “You guys want a coffee?” he asked.
“Milk and sugar for me, mate,” said Nick.
“Same for me please,” said Sonja.
Carl made the coffees, and returned to the table. He passed the others a mug each, and sat down.
“So, tell me about yourselves,” Nick said.
“Well, basically,” replied Sonja, “I used to work for the FSB. I had to leave due to… internal politics, and I moved here and worked for various groups.”
“Russian Mob?” Carl asked.
Sonja smiled. ”Among others.”
“Well bugger me!” Carl exclaimed. “If I had met you a couple of years ago, chances are we would have been enemies! I used to be in the Security Service with Jim.” He turned to Nick. “And what about you?”
Nick’s face grew dark, and he stared into his coffee, watching the liquid intently. “I used to be a Para, stationed near Liverpool. Two years ago, I was called in to London to help suppress the riots,” he paused to draw a deep breath, before continuing. “I was stationed on the Embankment when a protest was taking place. Everything was peaceful… well as peaceful as can be expected anyway. Then some Corporate Militia arseholes show up, and open fire on the crowd. I asked by commanding office if we should return fire on the Militiamen, but he told me not to.”
Nick looked up to see looks of disgust on the other’s faces. “Anyway,“ he continued,” It was a slaughter. I left the Army soon afterward.”
“Good for you mate,” Carl said.
“Evil bastards!” said Sonja through gritted teeth. “I remember seeing that on the news!”
James came back into the room at that moment. “Everything is in place. We’re picking up the gear at noon,” he announced.
Wizard walked down the alley, dodging the bins and rubbish that were scattered all over it. It was approaching eleven o’clock, and his eyes combed the shadows for potential assailants. He didn’t usually get called out this late, but receiving a call this late meant something was up. So he had strapped on his rucksack, and had braved the tide of unpleasantness that seemed to wash over London on a nightly basis, and was now heading for Hakan’s house.
He came to the end of the alley. Across the street, he saw Hakan’s house. Outside it were a number of cars that belonged to other members of Hakan’s group. Obviously, something very big was going on. Wizard walked quickly across the street and up to the door. He rang the doorbell.
Mo opened the door. “Hi Wizard!” he said warmly.
“Hi Mo,” Wizard replied. He stepped into the hallway, and Mo closed the door behind him. “What’s going on?” Wizard asked.
“I have no idea, mate,” Mo said. “All I know is, I get a phone call from Daystar telling me to get over here. Nobody’s been briefed yet.”
“Right,” Wizard said. “Well, I better go find out what’s going on.”
They walked down the hall and into the kitchen. Daystar was standing in front of the table, lecturing Wasp and Alex. They were looking down at a number of bottles on the table. Next to the bottles were some cloths, a can of oil, and a can of petrol.
“Where the hell did you learn how to do this kind of stuff?” Alex asked.
“You’ll be surprised what you can find out if you know the right people. Now, make sure that the rag is wedged in tight, Ok?” Daystar turned to see Wizard and Mo watching the lesson. “Hi Wizard,” he said.
Wizard was about to extend his greetings, when he saw the gash on Daystar’s face. “What happened to you?” he asked.
“I’ll tell you later,” Daystar replied. “Right now, though, we haven’t the time. We have a job to do, but unfortunately, the briefing can’t start yet.”
“Why?” Wizard asked, slipping off his rucksack and placing it delicately on the work surface.
“Because Andy isn’t answering his phone, and we need him here. So I’m going round to his place to see if anything’s wrong. Do you wanna come with me?”
Wizard looked at Wasp and Alex, who had started work on the Molotov cocktails. They already seemed bored. “I think I’ll come with you,” he replied.
“Right! Mo help the guys out, will you? We’ll be back in a little while.”
“Ok,” Mo replied.
“And when we get back, we’ll make pipe bombs!” Daystar said, with exaggerated enthusiasm.
“You are a psycho, I swear!” Wasp exclaimed.
“Not a psycho. A genius!” Daystar said. He turned and pushed past Mo and Wizard, and into the hall. He saw Mickey and Hakan standing at the door to the study.
“Hak,” he said as he approached. “Andy isn’t answering his phone. I’ll take Wizard and go round to his yard.”
“Alright,” Hakan said. “Take Mickey with you as well. Just in case there are any problems.”
Daystar found it hard to disguise the sarcasm in his voice. “Right…” He looked at Hillier, and was pleased to find Mickey looking somewhat surprised. Obviously, he hadn’t been expecting to have to do any work.
Hakan raised an eyebrow at this response, but said nothing.
London, England, May 21, 2024
It was approaching half past midnight by the time Daystar, Wizard and Mickey arrived at Andrew’s place. A light in one of the windows indicated that someone was home, but when Wizard rang the doorbell, there was no answer.
“Maybe he just left the light on,” Mickey said impatiently.
Daystar ignored him and turned to Wizard. “Have a look through the letterbox,” he said.
Wizard knelt down and looked through the letterbox. He found himself looking through the hall into Andrew’s living room. Andrew was lying on the floor, snoring loudly. A bottle lay on its side next to him.
“He’s in there. But I think he’s drunk,” Wizard said, standing up.
“Drunk?” repeated Mickey.
“Yes.”
Daystar looked up and down the street, then, satisfied that nobody was watching them, he pulled a small device from his pocket. “Mind out Wizard,” he said, stepping up to the door.
“What’s that?” Wizard asked, moving aside.
“It’s an old Cobra pick. I’m going to open the door.”
“How long is this going to take?” Mickey asked.
Wizard watched Daystar pause for a split second, and then continue with his task. Whatever it was he was going to say, he had obviously thought better of it. ”It’ll only take a few seconds,” Wizard said.
Fifteen seconds later, Daystar opened the door, and they walked into the hallway. “Wizard, look around and make sure everything’s cool, alright?” Daystar said. “Mickey, come and help me get Andy off the floor.”
Wizard nodded, and disappeared into the kitchen, and Mickey followed Daystar into the living room. They were met with a war zone; bottles and cans littered the floor, a smashed glass lay in a puddle by the armchair. The television was on, tuned into a news channel. For a brief moment, Mickey and Daystar forgot their differences and looked at each other in bewilderment. “What the hell…?” Mickey asked.
“It looks like he went on a massive bender,” Daystar replied. “Help me get him onto the sofa, Ok?”
Mickey grabbed one arm and Daystar the other, and they began hauling Andrew over to the sofa near the window. They laid him down on it, and placed a cushion under his head. They turned away from Andrew to find Wizard surveying the mess. “Everything Ok?” Daystar asked him.
“Well, apart from the fact that the mirror in the bathroom looks like someone went mental at it, everything’s fine,“ came the reply.
“Well, no prizes for guessing who went mental at it,” Mickey said. He picked up Andrew’s hand. It had small cuts and bruising all over it.
“Lets wake him up and find out what’s going on,” Wizard suggested. “I’ll grab a couple of flannels and some water.”
The cold water, although applied gently with a flannel, felt like a slap around the face. Andrew moaned, and struggled to open his eyes. He had been asleep so long, his eyes took a while to focus. Three people were standing over him, and as he blinked, Andrew slowly began to recognise them. “Whaddafak…?” he mumbled.
Wizard knelt down next to him, bringing his face closer to Andrew’s. “Andy? Are you alright?”
Andrew closed his eyes, and didn’t reply. His head hurt, and the very thought of speaking made it hurt even more.
“Andy!” Wizard repeated. “Wake up mate!”
Andrew opened his eyes again, and squinted at Wizard. ”What do you lot want?” he replied weakly.
“Are you Ok? What happened?” Wizard asked.
Andrew closed his eyes again, hoping to block the three intruders out, but he didn’t find quiet behind his eyelids; a haunting face appeared in his mind’s eye, and screamed at him. He opened his eyes wide, and looked up at Wizard. “Can I have some water?” he asked feebly.
Daystar disappeared from view, and reappeared with a glass of water twenty seconds later. “Here you go mate,” he said, passing Andrew the glass. Andrew sat up, took the glass, drank the contents in one draught, then collapsed back onto the pillow.
“What happened?” Wizard asked persistently.
“I got a bit drunk…” Andrew replied.
“You don’t say,” said Mickey sarcastically.
Daystar scowled at Mickey, but said nothing.
“Why?” asked Wizard. “Why get wrecked like this?”
Andrew felt his patience beginning to wear thin. His head hurt, and he was in no mood for the interrogation. “Because I feel like a bastard, Ok?” he replied, an edge appearing in his voice.
Wizard got up and looked at Daystar, a concerned look on his face. His expression was matched by Daystar’s. “Why do you feel like that?” Wizard continued, turning back to face Andrew.
“Look on the table…” Andrew replied.
Daystar turned away and walked to the coffee table. On it laid a newspaper dated May 19, 2024. Picking it up, Daystar scanned the front page. A young girl’s face screamed back at him, burnt and bloodied.
“Read out the headline!” Andrew said.
Daystar tore his gaze away from the picture, looked at the headline below it, and then glanced up at Andrew. “Andy…” he began.
“Read out the goddamn headline!” Andrew shouted.
“Three Hours After This Photo, She Died…”
“That’s right! I killed her mother, and I killed her! And I killed other innocents too! And for what? Some Corporate arsehole who can be replaced just like that!” Andrew said, clicking his fingers.
“Jesus… Andy, I’m sorry mate,” Daystar said.
“Sorry?” said Andrew. “You tossers haven’t got a bloody clue what being sorry is! But then,” he said looking at Wizard, “I have to remind myself that half of my unit is made up of naïve kids!”
Wizard turned immediately away from Andrew and left the room. Daystar caught a glimpse of his face as he went past, and saw that the attack had hurt. Daystar let Wizard leave the room before he spoke again.
“That,” he said, in a low growl, “was bang out of order.”
“Like I give a flying…”
“Yeah, well whatever!” Daystar interrupted, raising his voice. He turned to Mickey. “Mickey, keep an eye on him, Ok? I’m gonna make sure Wizard’s alright.”
Mickey nodded, and sat down in the armchair. Daystar left the room and walked into the kitchen, where Wizard was staring out of the window.
“Are you alright?” Daystar asked.
“I’m fine,” Wizard said, turning to face him. “I know he feels like crap, but I just didn’t expect him to say something like that.”
“Well, he still shouldn’t have said that, whether he feels like crap or not. It was uncalled for.”
“Maybe,” Wizard said. “But think of the guilt he must be living with. You’ve killed before, Daystar, but how many civilians have you killed?”
“None,” Daystar replied.
“Exactly!”
“Alright, fair point,” Daystar said, “but anyway, I think it’s safe to say he won’t be available for the mission.”
“Yeah, we’ll need a replacement.”
“Alex?”
“No, Hakan will need her to be ready for potential casualties. She is nurse, first and foremost, not a trooper.”
Daystar stared at the floor thoughtfully for a second, and then looked up at Wizard. “Alright, I know who we can call. I’ll give him a ring on the way back to Hakan’s. We’ll get Mickey to watch Andy.”
“Alright.”
Daystar returned to the living room, and beckoned Mickey to follow him. “Mickey,” he said when they were out in the hall, “we need to get on with this mission, but we need someone to look after Andy. You’re the only guy we can spare, so can you look after him?”
Mickey looked at him as though they spoke a different language. “What?” he asked.
“That is, unless you fancy going on this hit,” Daystar continued, playing on Mickey’s self preservation instincts.
“No, no, I’ll stay here and look after him,” Mickey said hurriedly.
“Alright, thanks. Don’t let him get blasted again, Ok?”
“Right.”
Wizard came out of the kitchen. “Good to go?” Daystar asked him.
“Yes, lets go.”
Wizard and Daystar walked out the front door, and down to the car. Daystar unlocked the car and they got in. Once inside, he pulled out his phone and phoned Hakan.
“Hello?”
“Hi Hak, it’s me. Andy’s in a real state, we can’t use him.”
“What’s wrong?” Hakan asked, concerned.
“I’ll explain when I get back,” Daystar said. “I will pick up a replacement on the way back.”
“Very well. Don’t be too long though.”
“Ok. Bye.”
“Goodbye.” The line went dead.
Daystar dialled another number, whilst starting up the car.
“Hello?” said a voice at the other end of the line.
“Hi mate, its Daystar.”
“Hi mate! How can I help you?” the voice asked.
“Get your things together. You’ve been activated.”
“When?”
“Now. Me and Wizard will be at your place in about fifteen minutes. So be quick, Shorty.”
Steve sat in his car, watching the entrance to the car park. He had to be careful on things like these. Even in today’s police force, you could still get in trouble for mixing with the wrong people, and now that he was a mercenary, Jim Carter qualified as the wrong people. The detective sighed and turned on the radio.
“The headlines at ten o’clock: Forces moved in against rebels today, and it is expected that the terrorists will be overwhelmed by the attack…”
Steve switched stations. He didn’t need to listen to the news; he got enough bad news at work. He found a more acceptable station, and settled back to listen to some rock.
A car pulled into the car park. James was here. Steve watched the car pull up, and James get out. The guy walked across to Steve’s car and got in.
“Detective Holloway!” James said smiling.” Fancy meeting you here!”
Steve smiled back. “Hi Jim. It’s been a while,” he said, starting up the car. He drove out of the car park, with James’ friends following in the other car.
“So,” Steve said, “What’s going on, Jim?”
“I need you to put out the feelers for info on the Embassy.”
“Whoa! Hold on a second!” Steve exclaimed. “That is a major investigation! It’s political, man!” he looked across at James, who was smiling at him. “What?”
“Don’t worry about political, Steve. Just make sure that anyone with info comes directly to me. That’s all.”
“That’s obstructing the investigation, Jim. I’ll get castrated if they know that I withheld information.”
James pulled an envelope from his pocket. “Ten grand says you’ll be fine. All you have to do is pass my number onto them, and get them to call me. I’ll do the rest.”
Steve looked at James suspiciously. “What are you getting into, Jim?”
“Just doing a job, Steve. My client wants the terrorists more than the police do.”
“Alright,” Steve said, taking the envelope and stashing it in his pocket, “I’ll ask a few people if they know anything. If I hear something, I’ll send the person to you, Ok?”
“Excellent! Pull over here then, Ok?”
Steve pulled over, and James got out of the car. “Be careful, Jim,” said the detective. “My instinct says that there are some nasty people involved in this.”
“I’ll be alright,” said James, looking into the car. “I’ll see you later, Steve.”
“See you later.”
James shut the door, and watched Steve drive off. Carl pulled up alongside him. “How did it go?” he asked James, winding down the window.
James got in the car. “Everything is fine,” he said.
The four mercenaries sat around the table in the kitchen of James’ safehouse. They had been preparing a list of weapons and equipment that they would need for their mission.
“So,” James said, “is this all we will need?” He scanned the list, and then looked at Nick and Sonja.
“As far as I’m concerned, that is all we will need,” Nick replied.
“And besides, we can always get more equipment from them if need be,” Sonja added.
“Ok then. I’ll go and place our order.” He picked up a sheet of paper from the table. “And these are the bank details?”
“Yes,” Sonja replied.
James got up and left the room, and Carl got up from the table and walked over to where the kettle was boiling. “You guys want a coffee?” he asked.
“Milk and sugar for me, mate,” said Nick.
“Same for me please,” said Sonja.
Carl made the coffees, and returned to the table. He passed the others a mug each, and sat down.
“So, tell me about yourselves,” Nick said.
“Well, basically,” replied Sonja, “I used to work for the FSB. I had to leave due to… internal politics, and I moved here and worked for various groups.”
“Russian Mob?” Carl asked.
Sonja smiled. ”Among others.”
“Well bugger me!” Carl exclaimed. “If I had met you a couple of years ago, chances are we would have been enemies! I used to be in the Security Service with Jim.” He turned to Nick. “And what about you?”
Nick’s face grew dark, and he stared into his coffee, watching the liquid intently. “I used to be a Para, stationed near Liverpool. Two years ago, I was called in to London to help suppress the riots,” he paused to draw a deep breath, before continuing. “I was stationed on the Embankment when a protest was taking place. Everything was peaceful… well as peaceful as can be expected anyway. Then some Corporate Militia arseholes show up, and open fire on the crowd. I asked by commanding office if we should return fire on the Militiamen, but he told me not to.”
Nick looked up to see looks of disgust on the other’s faces. “Anyway,“ he continued,” It was a slaughter. I left the Army soon afterward.”
“Good for you mate,” Carl said.
“Evil bastards!” said Sonja through gritted teeth. “I remember seeing that on the news!”
James came back into the room at that moment. “Everything is in place. We’re picking up the gear at noon,” he announced.
Wizard walked down the alley, dodging the bins and rubbish that were scattered all over it. It was approaching eleven o’clock, and his eyes combed the shadows for potential assailants. He didn’t usually get called out this late, but receiving a call this late meant something was up. So he had strapped on his rucksack, and had braved the tide of unpleasantness that seemed to wash over London on a nightly basis, and was now heading for Hakan’s house.
He came to the end of the alley. Across the street, he saw Hakan’s house. Outside it were a number of cars that belonged to other members of Hakan’s group. Obviously, something very big was going on. Wizard walked quickly across the street and up to the door. He rang the doorbell.
Mo opened the door. “Hi Wizard!” he said warmly.
“Hi Mo,” Wizard replied. He stepped into the hallway, and Mo closed the door behind him. “What’s going on?” Wizard asked.
“I have no idea, mate,” Mo said. “All I know is, I get a phone call from Daystar telling me to get over here. Nobody’s been briefed yet.”
“Right,” Wizard said. “Well, I better go find out what’s going on.”
They walked down the hall and into the kitchen. Daystar was standing in front of the table, lecturing Wasp and Alex. They were looking down at a number of bottles on the table. Next to the bottles were some cloths, a can of oil, and a can of petrol.
“Where the hell did you learn how to do this kind of stuff?” Alex asked.
“You’ll be surprised what you can find out if you know the right people. Now, make sure that the rag is wedged in tight, Ok?” Daystar turned to see Wizard and Mo watching the lesson. “Hi Wizard,” he said.
Wizard was about to extend his greetings, when he saw the gash on Daystar’s face. “What happened to you?” he asked.
“I’ll tell you later,” Daystar replied. “Right now, though, we haven’t the time. We have a job to do, but unfortunately, the briefing can’t start yet.”
“Why?” Wizard asked, slipping off his rucksack and placing it delicately on the work surface.
“Because Andy isn’t answering his phone, and we need him here. So I’m going round to his place to see if anything’s wrong. Do you wanna come with me?”
Wizard looked at Wasp and Alex, who had started work on the Molotov cocktails. They already seemed bored. “I think I’ll come with you,” he replied.
“Right! Mo help the guys out, will you? We’ll be back in a little while.”
“Ok,” Mo replied.
“And when we get back, we’ll make pipe bombs!” Daystar said, with exaggerated enthusiasm.
“You are a psycho, I swear!” Wasp exclaimed.
“Not a psycho. A genius!” Daystar said. He turned and pushed past Mo and Wizard, and into the hall. He saw Mickey and Hakan standing at the door to the study.
“Hak,” he said as he approached. “Andy isn’t answering his phone. I’ll take Wizard and go round to his yard.”
“Alright,” Hakan said. “Take Mickey with you as well. Just in case there are any problems.”
Daystar found it hard to disguise the sarcasm in his voice. “Right…” He looked at Hillier, and was pleased to find Mickey looking somewhat surprised. Obviously, he hadn’t been expecting to have to do any work.
Hakan raised an eyebrow at this response, but said nothing.
London, England, May 21, 2024
It was approaching half past midnight by the time Daystar, Wizard and Mickey arrived at Andrew’s place. A light in one of the windows indicated that someone was home, but when Wizard rang the doorbell, there was no answer.
“Maybe he just left the light on,” Mickey said impatiently.
Daystar ignored him and turned to Wizard. “Have a look through the letterbox,” he said.
Wizard knelt down and looked through the letterbox. He found himself looking through the hall into Andrew’s living room. Andrew was lying on the floor, snoring loudly. A bottle lay on its side next to him.
“He’s in there. But I think he’s drunk,” Wizard said, standing up.
“Drunk?” repeated Mickey.
“Yes.”
Daystar looked up and down the street, then, satisfied that nobody was watching them, he pulled a small device from his pocket. “Mind out Wizard,” he said, stepping up to the door.
“What’s that?” Wizard asked, moving aside.
“It’s an old Cobra pick. I’m going to open the door.”
“How long is this going to take?” Mickey asked.
Wizard watched Daystar pause for a split second, and then continue with his task. Whatever it was he was going to say, he had obviously thought better of it. ”It’ll only take a few seconds,” Wizard said.
Fifteen seconds later, Daystar opened the door, and they walked into the hallway. “Wizard, look around and make sure everything’s cool, alright?” Daystar said. “Mickey, come and help me get Andy off the floor.”
Wizard nodded, and disappeared into the kitchen, and Mickey followed Daystar into the living room. They were met with a war zone; bottles and cans littered the floor, a smashed glass lay in a puddle by the armchair. The television was on, tuned into a news channel. For a brief moment, Mickey and Daystar forgot their differences and looked at each other in bewilderment. “What the hell…?” Mickey asked.
“It looks like he went on a massive bender,” Daystar replied. “Help me get him onto the sofa, Ok?”
Mickey grabbed one arm and Daystar the other, and they began hauling Andrew over to the sofa near the window. They laid him down on it, and placed a cushion under his head. They turned away from Andrew to find Wizard surveying the mess. “Everything Ok?” Daystar asked him.
“Well, apart from the fact that the mirror in the bathroom looks like someone went mental at it, everything’s fine,“ came the reply.
“Well, no prizes for guessing who went mental at it,” Mickey said. He picked up Andrew’s hand. It had small cuts and bruising all over it.
“Lets wake him up and find out what’s going on,” Wizard suggested. “I’ll grab a couple of flannels and some water.”
The cold water, although applied gently with a flannel, felt like a slap around the face. Andrew moaned, and struggled to open his eyes. He had been asleep so long, his eyes took a while to focus. Three people were standing over him, and as he blinked, Andrew slowly began to recognise them. “Whaddafak…?” he mumbled.
Wizard knelt down next to him, bringing his face closer to Andrew’s. “Andy? Are you alright?”
Andrew closed his eyes, and didn’t reply. His head hurt, and the very thought of speaking made it hurt even more.
“Andy!” Wizard repeated. “Wake up mate!”
Andrew opened his eyes again, and squinted at Wizard. ”What do you lot want?” he replied weakly.
“Are you Ok? What happened?” Wizard asked.
Andrew closed his eyes again, hoping to block the three intruders out, but he didn’t find quiet behind his eyelids; a haunting face appeared in his mind’s eye, and screamed at him. He opened his eyes wide, and looked up at Wizard. “Can I have some water?” he asked feebly.
Daystar disappeared from view, and reappeared with a glass of water twenty seconds later. “Here you go mate,” he said, passing Andrew the glass. Andrew sat up, took the glass, drank the contents in one draught, then collapsed back onto the pillow.
“What happened?” Wizard asked persistently.
“I got a bit drunk…” Andrew replied.
“You don’t say,” said Mickey sarcastically.
Daystar scowled at Mickey, but said nothing.
“Why?” asked Wizard. “Why get wrecked like this?”
Andrew felt his patience beginning to wear thin. His head hurt, and he was in no mood for the interrogation. “Because I feel like a bastard, Ok?” he replied, an edge appearing in his voice.
Wizard got up and looked at Daystar, a concerned look on his face. His expression was matched by Daystar’s. “Why do you feel like that?” Wizard continued, turning back to face Andrew.
“Look on the table…” Andrew replied.
Daystar turned away and walked to the coffee table. On it laid a newspaper dated May 19, 2024. Picking it up, Daystar scanned the front page. A young girl’s face screamed back at him, burnt and bloodied.
“Read out the headline!” Andrew said.
Daystar tore his gaze away from the picture, looked at the headline below it, and then glanced up at Andrew. “Andy…” he began.
“Read out the goddamn headline!” Andrew shouted.
“Three Hours After This Photo, She Died…”
“That’s right! I killed her mother, and I killed her! And I killed other innocents too! And for what? Some Corporate arsehole who can be replaced just like that!” Andrew said, clicking his fingers.
“Jesus… Andy, I’m sorry mate,” Daystar said.
“Sorry?” said Andrew. “You tossers haven’t got a bloody clue what being sorry is! But then,” he said looking at Wizard, “I have to remind myself that half of my unit is made up of naïve kids!”
Wizard turned immediately away from Andrew and left the room. Daystar caught a glimpse of his face as he went past, and saw that the attack had hurt. Daystar let Wizard leave the room before he spoke again.
“That,” he said, in a low growl, “was bang out of order.”
“Like I give a flying…”
“Yeah, well whatever!” Daystar interrupted, raising his voice. He turned to Mickey. “Mickey, keep an eye on him, Ok? I’m gonna make sure Wizard’s alright.”
Mickey nodded, and sat down in the armchair. Daystar left the room and walked into the kitchen, where Wizard was staring out of the window.
“Are you alright?” Daystar asked.
“I’m fine,” Wizard said, turning to face him. “I know he feels like crap, but I just didn’t expect him to say something like that.”
“Well, he still shouldn’t have said that, whether he feels like crap or not. It was uncalled for.”
“Maybe,” Wizard said. “But think of the guilt he must be living with. You’ve killed before, Daystar, but how many civilians have you killed?”
“None,” Daystar replied.
“Exactly!”
“Alright, fair point,” Daystar said, “but anyway, I think it’s safe to say he won’t be available for the mission.”
“Yeah, we’ll need a replacement.”
“Alex?”
“No, Hakan will need her to be ready for potential casualties. She is nurse, first and foremost, not a trooper.”
Daystar stared at the floor thoughtfully for a second, and then looked up at Wizard. “Alright, I know who we can call. I’ll give him a ring on the way back to Hakan’s. We’ll get Mickey to watch Andy.”
“Alright.”
Daystar returned to the living room, and beckoned Mickey to follow him. “Mickey,” he said when they were out in the hall, “we need to get on with this mission, but we need someone to look after Andy. You’re the only guy we can spare, so can you look after him?”
Mickey looked at him as though they spoke a different language. “What?” he asked.
“That is, unless you fancy going on this hit,” Daystar continued, playing on Mickey’s self preservation instincts.
“No, no, I’ll stay here and look after him,” Mickey said hurriedly.
“Alright, thanks. Don’t let him get blasted again, Ok?”
“Right.”
Wizard came out of the kitchen. “Good to go?” Daystar asked him.
“Yes, lets go.”
Wizard and Daystar walked out the front door, and down to the car. Daystar unlocked the car and they got in. Once inside, he pulled out his phone and phoned Hakan.
“Hello?”
“Hi Hak, it’s me. Andy’s in a real state, we can’t use him.”
“What’s wrong?” Hakan asked, concerned.
“I’ll explain when I get back,” Daystar said. “I will pick up a replacement on the way back.”
“Very well. Don’t be too long though.”
“Ok. Bye.”
“Goodbye.” The line went dead.
Daystar dialled another number, whilst starting up the car.
“Hello?” said a voice at the other end of the line.
“Hi mate, its Daystar.”
“Hi mate! How can I help you?” the voice asked.
“Get your things together. You’ve been activated.”
“When?”
“Now. Me and Wizard will be at your place in about fifteen minutes. So be quick, Shorty.”
Steve sat in his car, watching the entrance to the car park. He had to be careful on things like these. Even in today’s police force, you could still get in trouble for mixing with the wrong people, and now that he was a mercenary, Jim Carter qualified as the wrong people. The detective sighed and turned on the radio.
“The headlines at ten o’clock: Forces moved in against rebels today, and it is expected that the terrorists will be overwhelmed by the attack…”
Steve switched stations. He didn’t need to listen to the news; he got enough bad news at work. He found a more acceptable station, and settled back to listen to some rock.
A car pulled into the car park. James was here. Steve watched the car pull up, and James get out. The guy walked across to Steve’s car and got in.
“Detective Holloway!” James said smiling.” Fancy meeting you here!”
Steve smiled back. “Hi Jim. It’s been a while,” he said, starting up the car. He drove out of the car park, with James’ friends following in the other car.
“So,” Steve said, “What’s going on, Jim?”
“I need you to put out the feelers for info on the Embassy.”
“Whoa! Hold on a second!” Steve exclaimed. “That is a major investigation! It’s political, man!” he looked across at James, who was smiling at him. “What?”
“Don’t worry about political, Steve. Just make sure that anyone with info comes directly to me. That’s all.”
“That’s obstructing the investigation, Jim. I’ll get castrated if they know that I withheld information.”
James pulled an envelope from his pocket. “Ten grand says you’ll be fine. All you have to do is pass my number onto them, and get them to call me. I’ll do the rest.”
Steve looked at James suspiciously. “What are you getting into, Jim?”
“Just doing a job, Steve. My client wants the terrorists more than the police do.”
“Alright,” Steve said, taking the envelope and stashing it in his pocket, “I’ll ask a few people if they know anything. If I hear something, I’ll send the person to you, Ok?”
“Excellent! Pull over here then, Ok?”
Steve pulled over, and James got out of the car. “Be careful, Jim,” said the detective. “My instinct says that there are some nasty people involved in this.”
“I’ll be alright,” said James, looking into the car. “I’ll see you later, Steve.”
“See you later.”
James shut the door, and watched Steve drive off. Carl pulled up alongside him. “How did it go?” he asked James, winding down the window.
James got in the car. “Everything is fine,” he said.
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