There was the roof, the windows and the side wall. Owing to their defences there was little chance of the doors being used, so this wall was our obvious choice.
“We need some bugs, sarge,” offered Billy, “inserted through the wall and roof. They can’t have the manpower to search the whole perimeter. The doors are loaded with explosives to put us off.”
“Get some bugs inserted. I want to know their plans and positions of all hostages and militants; find some translators. See if you can get thermal imaging inside there, Jimmy. Get some sleep you lot,” I ordered knowing full well there was no chance with adrenaline levels sky high.
I walked down the magnificent staircase to the first floor of this historical building where negotiations were ongoing with a government official from the ministry of defence and a translator. The officials’ face said that the negotiations were not going well and I knew that we would be going in sooner rather than later.
“It’s not good Sergeant Powell. The King of Saudi Arabia refuses outright to release any prisoners, at the advice of Mr. Davis our Prime Minister. They are not pleased and keep repeating death threats. We are getting nowhere. It’s a waste of time: they are non negotiable nutters. Davis has given you direct responsibility and orders to storm the building if, God forbid, they kill a hostage. The cabinet are holding a COBRA meeting with the chief of staff as we speak.”
“Good. Right I want you to get some road works going on outside to drown out our drilling. Get Intel on the suspects. I want names and political orientation.”
Surprised, he said, “Yes sir.”
Upstairs, I found the bugs were in and my six men were all checking their kits. The information was being streamed downstairs, to translators and MI6 operatives who were working on their identities.
I looked around at my troop of men and knew nothing needed to be said. Quietly and efficiently checking their equipment for glitches: they were preparing mentally and physically for every possible eventuality.
In rushed a small pen-pusher with glasses who handed me a sheet of paper full of text. Scribbled on the top in rushed handwriting, ‘believed to be leading the insurgents inside the embassy, keep alive if possible by request of the CIA’. Then in word-processed text:
Mohammed Al-Zaffira
Saudi Arabian
Aged: 25-35
Links: Al-Qaeda, Taliban
Residence: Last seen in Afghanistan, Believed to be in Iran.
No image available.
Miscellaneous: Loyal to Bin Laden and radical cleric.
“Demands are coming in, sir. They are demanding the beginning of the releasing of prisoners now. They are saying that a prisoner will be killed an hour from now. They are searching for bugs now. Fibre optic cameras are going through now.”
* * *
“Hurry. Twenty Three minutes till the first execution. You heard the man. There are eight terrorists, one high priority, and seventeen hostages. These aren’t to be touched. Orders: Jimmy, Shaun, and Dave you are in through the back-end window. There is no one in there creep in silently. Once you are ready, this wall is coming down and Gaz, Billy, and I are entering the corridor, east end of the embassy. We then proceed together. Shoot on sight,” I ordered, “We’re going in, in six minutes.”
Five
I loaded my SA80. Adrenalin and Testosterone pumped through my system and I didn’t feel any of the tiredness of forty-eight hours without sleep.
Four
I could hear the roadwork that had been set up outside.
Three
Nothing but headshots, they were likely to be strapped with explosives.
Two
I re-checked my gun.
One
For Queen and country.
I heard a slight smash. Jimmy, Shaun and Dave were positioned. The diamond cutter, a rotating disc studded with diamonds, started: It would cut through the thick wall in around twenty seconds; silently it worked as we got in position. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck. Crack!
We sped into the pitch-black hall me leading in front. The corridor was empty as we hoped, and we proceeded down the hall to a right turning. I peered around the corner anxiously. A bullet flew past my head. A man in black overalls armed with a soviet made AK47, the gun of amateurs, aiming and firing. Quick reactions lead me to fire without thinking. The thud was all I heard and his brains against a painting of George Washington behind him. That image, I knew, would stick with me, filed in some dark corner of the imagination for the rest of my life, along with the pictures of all men before him.
Excitement spurred me on as I heard more gunfire, as the rest of the team took out the now alerted terrorists. Gun at the ready I crept down the corridor with Gaz on my shoulder.
Out ran a screaming, pregnant, woman. Signalling her to be quiet and get down with the tip of my gun, she huddled on the floor, sobbing. This was why we were fighting; Fighting against a tyrannical monster who would target the vulnerable to achieve their murderous objectives.
My gun rattled again and the sound of metal on wood rang down the hall as I took out another man holding an AK47. We turned again into a reception room.
I lifted my hand as a signal to stop; this was the room where we thought the hostages were being held. Gaz, Billy and I spread out in a fan and waited for the rest of the team. Three short blasts of fire introduced them to the room.
Jimmy lifted three fingers up. That meant five had been killed, three left according to our thermal imaging scan of the building. Shaun and Dave positioned themselves either side of the door and started taping the hinges and handle with plastic explosive. Done; they put the timer on; ten seconds. The team was working as one efficient unit focused on their objectives.
Five seconds.
The door blasted off. And Gaz threw in two flash-bangs, designed to startle the people into a state of shock and disable them for five seconds, enough to distinguish the terrorists and have them shot. A huge light erupted from the room and a deafening bang ripped through the room rupturing the occupants' eardrums. Our team sped into the room, full with hostages tied on their backs blindfolded. Three left, two double taps to the head and the other shot twice in both legs enough to disable him.
Quickly, Dave jumped on the balding Arabic man forcing his pistol in his back.
“Still now,” as he kicked him in the balls, “Good boy.”
“Set them free, and out the main entrance. Gaz cover them. Shaun search the building. Dave look after him, tie his hands and legs,” I directed.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, and the woman in the hall, 17. All accounted for. They rushed from the room in a state of shock shepherded by Jimmy and Billy. I could hear them tumbling down the stairs and out of the doors into the arms of the medics.
Operation complete, full marks to the lads. I suddenly felt the lack of sleep and needed to get some rest. Just another day at the office!
“I’ll help you take him down.”
Picking the struggling captives legs up, I helped Dave with the convict. What a role reversal. Down the royal spiralling staircase I pushed the main doors open into the blinding sunlight. It was if the world’s media was lay before us and millions of pictures were being taken of us from behind the police barrier. Quickly rushing we launched him into an army van and went over to the incident tent.
“What the…!”I shouted, “This isn’t supposed to be a parade.”
Knowing my job was over I walked to the corner of the tent I saw the rest of the lads snoozing. What the hell. I felt the relief and the burden lift off my shoulders as I settled down. I had earned a break.
* * *
The sun glared down on a 4x4 truck as it drove down a dusty track, and down a sandy lane. It began to pull up at a heavily fortified prison like complex and a balding Arabic man, chained like a prisoner, was launched out of the back in an orange over-all accompanied by four soldiers.
The prisoner heard screams from inside the barbed wire fences as he tried to cover his face while being kicked.
“Welcome to Camp X-ray, Mr. Al-Zaffira”
