Urban Assassin (2 page)

Instead, the man leapt up and threw himself at Mitch, swinging wild punches as he came to his feet. Mitch stepped back a pace, out of reach, and fired a single shot near the attacker’s feet as a warning. It didn’t work. The man turned and lunged for the edge of the roof again.

‘Oh, no you don’t,’ shouted Mitch, throwing himself at the man. The force of the collision carried them both to the precipice. For a split second they teetered on the edge, before tumbling out into the air. Mitch saw the ground far below, and the lights of the city streets staring up at him as he fell. He
reached out with one hand and managed to grab the top of the stone parapet. With his other hand he still had hold of the attacker’s clothing.

Pain coursed through his shoulder socket. The strain on his arms was pulling at every muscle fibre. The attacker kicked and struggled, making Mitch’s job even harder.

I can’t hold on for much longer, he thought.

‘Let him fall!’ shouted Koman from above.

‘You wanted him alive!’ Mitch yelled back.

There was a sudden shot. The attacker stopped struggling and went limp.

‘He’s dead now!’ Koman snapped, holding his pistol at his side. ‘Let him fall.’

Mitch looked down at the terrorist, saw the blood dripping from his skull. He released his grip and the body plummeted to the ground far below.

Koman reached down, grabbed hold of Mitch and helped him clamber back on to the roof.

‘So much for taking them alive,’ Mitch grunted as he lay on the cold, hard surface, his breaths
coming in ragged gasps.

‘We have those two,’ said Koman, gesturing across the roof towards the doorway, where the other men lay, tied up.

In his ear Mitch heard Nelson say: ‘All clear down here. Interior of building secured. Four casualties, two prisoners.’

‘Roof secured,’ reported Mitch, clambering to his feet. ‘Two prisoners. One casualty.’ He sighed and added: ‘He’s down in the street. You’d better get MIT to clear up the mess.’

The soldiers of Delta Unit regrouped and headed for their vehicles, parked just outside the British Embassy. Koman and the other members of MIT had taken away the bodies of the dead attackers, and the prisoners.

‘Now that’s what I call a successful operation,’ said Two Moons as they walked.

‘Half of them are dead,’ Mitch pointed out.

‘Yeah, but we all came out alive!’ Two Moons grinned.

‘Good job, guys,’ said Nelson. ‘The Turkish authorities will be very happy. Looks like we stopped that terrorist plot.’

Suddenly Nelson’s pager went off. They all turned as Nelson scanned it. The colonel’s face hardened.
‘It’s a Code 9,’ he told them grimly.

Code 9 was the signal that recalled Delta Unit back to their base in London for an emergency situation. It was a good hour drive to the NATO air base, just outside Istanbul, and by the time they pulled into the military compound Mitch and the rest of the unit were exhausted. Nelson tried contacting HQ to get more details. All he was promised was that they would be given all the information when they arrived back in the UK.

At the air base they boarded a small military jet. No customs, no protocol, just straight on to the plane and then take-off for Northolt RAF base, just outside London.

‘It can’t be that urgent,’ argued Gaz, ‘or they’d bring in a unit that’s nearer. Let’s face it, we’re in Turkey. There are two other units in the UK, plus a couple in Germany and one in Norway.’

‘I guess there’s a reason it has to be us,’ mused Tug.

‘You think we’re in trouble?’ asked Two Moons. ‘We’re going back for a court-martial or something?’

Mitch shook his head. ‘Code 9 means a real emergency situation. Something big’s going down that they need us to deal with.’

The plane journey was fast and noisy. As they disembarked at Northolt, they were met by a small man in a neat dark suit, and a uniformed army captain.

‘Colonel Nelson, I need you to come with me,’ said the suited man. Turning to the rest of Delta Unit, he told them, ‘Captain Lawrence and his men will escort you back to your base at Regent’s Park. Colonel Nelson will be rejoining you shortly.’ He gestured towards two military vehicles parked near the runway. Behind them was a small helicopter.

Suddenly Mitch realised that the man in the suit was an Intelligence agent.

We’re in spy territory, he thought.

‘I’ll see you guys later,’ said Nelson, and he followed the agent, who was now running towards
the waiting helicopter. This is a real emergency, thought Mitch.

Nelson and the man got into the helicopter which took off almost immediately. The rest of Delta Unit followed Captain Lawrence towards the military vehicles and as Mitch and Two Moons climbed into the first vehicle, Two Moons muttered: ‘You thinking what I’m thinking?’

‘Spooks?’ murmured Mitch. ‘Either MI5 or MI6.’

‘Bingo!’ said Two Moons.

Three hours later the squad were in the briefing room at their base in Regent’s Park. Coffee, sandwiches and doughnuts sat on the tables in front of them, but there was no sign of Colonel Nelson, nor any word from the USUKCSF High Command on where he was or how soon he’d be back.

Mitch studied his friends and reflected again on how lucky he was to have been brought into Delta Unit. He’d been on the outside – kicked out of the SAS after killing his corrupt senior officer – when
Colonel Nelson had offered him the chance to join the unit on a special mission.

He had proved himself invaluable and now he was a core member of the six-man team: three Americans, three Brits.

They were a young and mixed bunch: Colonel Chuck Nelson, the tall black Bostonian, in charge of the Unit; his second in command, Captain Robert ‘Tug’ Tait, the son of a British Lord; Lieutenant Benny Jaurez, a Latino Texan, the unit’s tactician; Sergeant Tony Two Moons, the tall Sioux Native American; Trooper Gaz Graham, the short and stocky Geordie from Newcastle; and Trooper Paul Mitchell, known to everyone as Mitch.

‘The guy in the suit said the colonel would be rejoining us shortly,’ muttered Two Moons as he munched on a doughnut.

‘Yeah, but he was a spook,’ said Mitch. ‘Spooks lie for a living. Never believe anything they tell you.’

‘Not even the ones on our side?’ asked Two Moons.

‘
Especially
the ones supposedly on our side,’ said Mitch.

Tug’s mobile rang. ‘It’s Nelson,’ he told the others. He answered the call and listened briefly, then said: ‘Fine. We’ll see you.’

Tug hung up and turned to the others. ‘The colonel’s on his way. He says he’ll be here in about twenty minutes.’

‘Where was he?’ Benny asked.

‘It sounded like he was in a car so my guess is he’s been somewhere in London.’

‘Somewhere with a helipad.’ Benny nodded thoughtfully.

‘Guess we’ll find out soon enough,’ said Two Moons. He pointed at the two remaining doughnuts. ‘Anyone else want those?’

‘You bet!’ said Gaz, grabbing one.

‘Me too,’ said Benny, snatching up the other.

Two Moons looked at his two friends indignantly as they stuffed the doughnuts into their mouths.

‘Huh, that’s what I get for being polite!’ He scowled jokingly. ‘Next time I’m just gonna eat ’em!’

It was half an hour before Nelson walked in. He was carrying a laptop under his arm.

‘Sorry to keep you waiting, fellas,’ he said. ‘The briefing took a while. Then there was traffic.’

‘Is it a Code 9?’ asked Benny.

Nelson nodded. ‘Yep. By my definition, this classes as an emergency all right.’ He put the laptop on the table and connected it to the Power-Point display unit. He pressed a few keys, and on the screen on the wall appeared a title card that said, ‘
G20 Conference and Treaty on Terrorist Extradition
.’

‘This is what it’s all about, guys. And it opens here in London in just five days’ time.’

The others exchanged puzzled looks.

‘It’s a conference,’ said Gaz. ‘Politicians talking. How does that affect us?’

‘I guess it must be the subject matter,’ murmured Tug. ‘Terrorist Extradition.’

‘Dead right, Tug,’ Nelson replied. ‘All the G20 nations are coming to London to sign a treaty which will mean that terrorist suspects arrested in one country can be extradited to another country quickly and without lengthy appeals.’

‘I thought a treaty like that already existed,’ said Two Moons.

‘To an extent,’ agreed Nelson. ‘But only a few countries have signed up to it. This one is going to be signed by
all
the members of the G20, including the President of the European Union.’

‘So, everyone’s on-board to stop terrorists hiding across borders,’ Two Moons said in approval. ‘A good thing. But I still don’t see where we come in.’

‘Both MI6 and the CIA have picked up intel that there’s to be an assassination attempt during the conference, before the treaty can be signed.’

‘Who’s the target?’ asked Mitch.

‘The British prime minister,’ said Nelson.

The five soldiers sat up, suddenly on high alert.

‘Why him?’ demanded Gaz.

‘Because he’s the one who’s been pushing for this particular treaty to be signed,’ said Nelson. ‘The people giving the orders must hope that getting rid of him will kill off the treaty, and send a message to all the other world leaders.’

Benny shook his head. ‘I can see why this is an emergency all right, but I still don’t see what this has to do with us,’ he said.

‘We’ve been given the job of finding the assassin and stopping him,’ said Nelson.

The five soldiers exchanged puzzled looks.

‘Isn’t that rather unusual?’ asked Tug. ‘Normally stuff like this is a job for the spooks at MI5 or MI6.’

‘Usually it would be,’ agreed Nelson. ‘But this isn’t just any assassin.’

A new image appeared on the screen: a head-and-shoulders photo of a young man with a cocky grin on his face. A shocked gasp from Two Moons made Mitch look round.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘It’s Jimmy,’ said Two Moons, obviously stunned.

‘Jimmy?’

‘Jimmy Deacon,’ said Gaz quietly. ‘He’s our buddy.’

‘He was never my buddy,’ growled Benny.

‘He was part of the unit,’ snapped back Two Moons. ‘He was one of us.’

‘
Was
,’ emphasised Benny. ‘Now it seems he’s a renegade killer.’

‘Let’s leave all that till later and get back to the immediate problem,’ said Nelson sharply, bringing them to order.

They turned their attention back to the screen. The head and shoulders shot had been replaced by more pictures of the same man in a variety of disguises. In some, he was immediately recognisable as the same young soldier. In others his hair had changed: sometimes long, sometimes dark, then blond, and in one he was completely bald. The clothes he wore varied, too: tribal costumes, smart
business suits, a construction worker’s outfit. In some he wore glasses, in others not. Sometimes he had a beard or moustache. In a few his cheeks had been stuffed out to make his face fatter.

‘This guy’s a chameleon,’ muttered Mitch.

‘That was always his thing,’ Gaz said, nodding. ‘He loved to use the element of surprise. He could get almost anywhere by changing his appearance.’

‘Which is the problem we have,’ said Nelson. ‘The spooks admit they don’t know where or how he’ll strike, or what he’s going to look like. The only people who stand a chance are those who’ve worked with him, which is all of us in this room with the exception of Mitch.’

Two Moons shook his head. ‘Just because we worked with him don’t mean we’ll spot him,’ he said. ‘Like Gaz says, Jimmy was a real master of camouflage. He could walk in anywhere, impossible to spot until it was too late. The guy was a genius.’ Two Moons’ expression hardened. ‘He was also our friend. I don’t like this job.’

‘It’s not up to us to choose whether we like it or not,’ said Nelson. ‘The intel tells us that Jimmy’s going to try to assassinate the British prime minister during this conference and we’re the only ones who have a chance of spotting him and stopping him.’

‘Maybe the spooks are wrong?’ suggested Gaz. ‘They’ve been wrong before.’

‘Yes, we know spooks can make mistakes,’ Nelson agreed. ‘But this seems pretty concrete. It’s not just coming from MI6, it’s CIA, plus the French and the Germans. It seems that Jimmy’s been working renegade for some time, carrying out hits. It’s just been lucky for us he hasn’t strayed into our territory so far. Now he has, and we’ve got to stop him.’ Nelson checked his watch. ‘We’ve got a briefing at Spook Central in an hour. They’re gonna fill us in on everything they’ve got on Jimmy.’ He grinned. ‘Believe me, you guys are getting a real privilege here. You’ve all been given special clearance, but you’ve got to sign these.’ He handed out a sheet of paper to each member of the unit.

‘What is this?’ asked Two Moons, looking at it suspiciously.

‘Official Secrets Act,’ explained Nelson. ‘If you tell anyone else what you see today, you get shot for treason.’

‘I ain’t a Brit,’ muttered Two Moons. ‘They can’t shoot me for treason.’

‘Yes, they can,’ said Nelson. ‘If you look closely at the small print, this is a joint UK-US operation.’ He grinned again. ‘So the Brits shoot their boys, we Yanks shoot you.’

Two Moons shrugged. ‘Sounds fair, I guess,’ he said. He held out his hand. ‘Anyone got a pen?’

Once inside MI6 HQ, the men of Delta Unit went through a series of security procedures including retinal scans to verify their individual IDs. Finally they made it to the inner hub where the action took place. They’d been escorted all the way by two men dressed in smart suits. One of them, who introduced himself as Gerald, chatted to the squad as he led them along the corridors, deep inside the building. The other man walked silently just a few paces behind them, keeping a close eye on the unit.

Many of the rooms had glass walls so the soldiers could see inside as they passed. Every room was filled with people at computer terminals, many of them wearing headsets. The walls were adorned with digital maps showing trouble hotspots, red
lights flashing on and off highlighting locations.

They’re listening in on everyone, thought Mitch. But they still need us to find this man – shows just how good Jimmy Deacon must be.