Out of the Shadows (Akira and Deane Thriller Series Book 1) Page 2
Deane watched everyone start their preparations and caught sight of another agent who stood with his two men, several feet away at another workstation. Deane exchanged a look with French Special Agent Patrice Marraud and read the look on his friend’s face as one of caution; a sentiment he agreed with.
The French visitors had been made part of the Operation at Deane’s request, after Marraud had been the one to identify the terrorist cell in Paris, close to a year before. The two had known each other for close to twenty years.
Marraud came over to Deane and watched Olsen organise some of the other agents. His thick blonde hair was neatly cut and although he was well under six feet tall, the French agent looked well built. ‘He never seems to lose his enthusiasm, does he?’
‘Unfortunately not, it’s something he needs to control.’ Deane took off the headset and eyed up his old friend. ‘Ready to close this one down, Patrice?’ A faint smile came to him as he remembered the last twenty years, all of which included Marraud.
‘I’ve been waiting a long time for this, I’m not going to miss it.’ He gestured to the two other French Agents nearby. ‘We’ll watch your back.’
Akira lurked amongst the shadows of London Bridge Train Station, in Central London. Even at 4:30 a.m. there was still a constant flow of trains passing overhead and the occasional night worker heading home. Wearing a long black trench coat and the same coloured trousers and shoes, he took out a dark balaclava from his pocket and pulled it down over his face. As he watched maintenance staff leave the station, he thought of Russia and his plan to conquer her in the not too distant future. It had not been easy to come to the UK, especially with the balance of power so unstable in Russia but he was still keen to take what he could from his base in the UK and attempt to keep the Security Services guessing, at the very least. With some hard work, he had managed to ensure he had recruited just fewer than ten loyal Russian FSB agents to his cause. They were in the process of planning and executing several bomb attacks to de-stabilise the Russian capital and highlight the weakness of the current Government. With that already in place, it wasn’t essential he was there and his time could be better spent elsewhere. In his mind, it just would have been a luxury to carry out and witness the attacks personally but it couldn’t be helped.
His thoughts came back to the present and the no show of his contact Robert Baynes. Though he couldn’t be entirely trusted, Baynes was never late. Much to Akira’s annoyance, he had begun to carve out a niche for himself within the cell and had insisted on coming to London to carry out his work personally. Such attitudes were not effective or welcome and Akira was in no mood to tolerate them. There was always a need for technically skilled followers but from the moment Baynes had got involved, he had been convinced it had been a mistake. The dedication was missing and his insistency on coming to London had only proven to him that he had become a liability rather than an asset.
A red London bus passed his position and Akira watched closely as to who departed, making sure he tracked the movements of any possible threats. After a few minutes, he was satisfied he was safe and went back to his thoughts. The large clock near the train station entrance read 4:38 a.m. and still there was no sign of Baynes. Akira found his phone in his pocket and read a text message from the replacement he had found to ensure the data encryption work continued. Its positive tone and confirmation made him smile. The meeting he was waiting for had now become nothing more than a formality.
Robert Baynes felt the cold sweat dampen the back of his shirt but that didn’t stop him from changing his mind. He took one last look down the train and saw the determined looks on the faces of the two men who had been following him for hours and who were now checking every seat for his presence in the preceding carriage. As he stood at the nearest exit he made his decision, despite the apparent speed of the train as it pulled into London Bridge Station. His estimate of the train’s speed was around 20 M.P.H. but it couldn’t be helped and he didn’t want to start thinking about Akira’s reaction if he was caught.
The start of the platform raced by and Baynes flicked open the protective plastic on the door override controls. He pressed the red button to open them and heard the hiss as the doors moved but then stopped. Baynes grabbed them, pulled them apart and then threw himself out, crashing onto the concrete as he tried to roll with the impact. Despite only being in his late thirties, his heavy frame struggled with the impact but he did his best and started to run to the barriers ahead.
On the train, MI5 Agent Ron Cunningham and his partner looked out of the window to see their target running as best he could for the barrier. They pulled the door open, loaded their weapons and jumped out, one by one, in pursuit. Cunningham didn’t land well and suffered a deep cut to his head, which started to bleed through his receding light brown hair. As he staggered to his feet, he watched his young partner sprint past.
Baynes scaled the barrier and started to run through the abandoned concourse. A younger man was in swift pursuit and shouting at him to stand still. Panic spread through him as he realised there was virtually no chance of escape. Straight away, he saw no future when Akira discovered what had happened. His only hope was to strike a deal as best he could and use his knowledge to keep himself alive. As he passed a large WH Smith store, his body couldn’t take any more pounding. His lungs were starting to heave now and he came to a halt, breathing so hard he could barely raise his arms in surrender. Within seconds, he felt the strong grip of the younger man on his shoulders and slumped in defeat. He had no energy to fight his arrest.
Danger was never that far away and in the darkness, just over a hundred metres away, Akira was stalking his way through the shadows, getting closer to the entrance of the station. His eyes were alight with concentration, taking in everything he could see ahead. Akira trusted his instincts, which were telling him that the Government had caught up with his one time follower; that was all he needed to take action without a moment’s hesitation. In one swift motion, he took out a black pistol and fired several bullets through the silencer. He watched Baynes fall to the ground first, followed by the Government Agent. Dropping the gun and balaclava to the ground, he started to calmly walk away, barely hearing the screams coming from the station area.
Cunningham’s eyes were wide with shock as he approached the scene, his eyes immediately focussing on the one man leaving the scene. Keeping him in his sights, he pushed away the pain of losing his young partner and spoke into his headset. ‘Baynes and my partner are down, I repeat, they are down!’ Cunningham was now sprinting through the concourse and straight away started firing at the dark shape ahead that was only now starting to run away.
In Operations Command, Deane felt the others around him jump with shock but he was used to surprises and forced himself not to think about another agent lost. ‘Stay with him Ron. I’m sending Unit Two to intercept. We’re tracking you from here.’
Cunningham was sprinting hard and was out of breath as he replied. ‘What’s their ETA?’
Deane eyed up one of the nearby screens. ‘Five minutes, maybe more. Don’t lose him!’
Akira didn’t stop, pushing himself that extra yard as he came onto St. Thomas Street surrounded by the shadows and a bitterly cold wind. He gave a quick glance behind him. There! The surviving MI5 agent had appeared at the entrance of London Bridge station and was now frantically looking around.
The will of Akira was stronger than any other man, and it became even more resilient when he saw the sign he had been praying for. It read ‘STAMFORD STREET, 5 MINS’. He would soon be back at base and able to co-ordinate his escape and another victory over the looming British Security Services. As he continued running, a nearby shop window blew out under the force of gunfire and Akira immediately darted behind a parked car for cover. His eyes surveyed his surroundings and found hope in a group of youths who were standing on the corner ahead, wondering what was going on.
Cunningham fired again at the parked car, certain his target was hiding the
re. Keeping his Browning HP 9mm pistol out in front of him the whole time, he slowly made his way down the deserted road. All the time, he could hear Deane relaying information to him regarding Unit Two’s location. Cunningham ducked down as gunfire rained in and he saw his target sprint for the group of youths further down the road. He set off in pursuit.
Akira made it in one piece and smashed the butt of his pistol in the face of the largest boy amongst the group, knowing it would give him more cover. The rest screamed in panic and moved away quickly. Akira took his prize down the road and ignored the constant begging he could hear.
Cunningham swore loudly and took aim, crouching next to a green Ford Escort. In his sights he saw that the eyes of the young man were white with fear. Crucial moments passed and then he lowered his pistol. After seeing his partner die just minutes before, he was determined not to take another life that night, no matter what.
Akira came onto Blackfriars Road and deliberately dropped the motionless body, which must have fainted, into the middle of the junction. What cars were around screeched to a halt, causing a standstill that gave him more time. He shoved his way through a small crowd that had come out of the nearest nightclub, not caring if some were pushed into the moving traffic.
His dream was what mattered, a world that wasn’t led by the West. For what seemed like an eternity, he had waited for it to arrive and now there was no one that would stand in his way. Since creating his identity and leaving his past life behind him so long ago, Akira had been forced to deal with several individuals from all walks of life that had stood in his way. The Security Service agent on his tail would be no different.
Pumping his legs harder and harder, his head snapped back for an instant and he saw his pursuer fighting through the panic-stricken scene he had left in his wake. Just before turning away, he caught sight of the agent’s face. Aside from the obvious determination, there was something else that he instantly identified with: desperation. It was etched on his face. Time was running out, not only to complete his operation, but to rid the world of a terrible danger.
Did the agent have a clue as to who he really was? Out of the question. Nevertheless, Akira was looked upon as another dangerous visitor to the UK and couldn’t help but feel the irony. As he continued to run, his thoughts and beliefs seemed so much clearer now than they had ever done. Even back in Russia, only weeks ago, he hadn’t seen the world as clearly as he was seeing it now. There was not a doubt in his mind that the West could not be saved. The corruption and the endless red tape that had drowned it year after year had destroyed it beyond repair. It could never be saved. The changes would be devastating and it would start now. Akira gritted his teeth and stepped up the pace, determined to find that extra level of speed to make sure he would have time to end the pursuit.
Cunningham heard Deane bellow continuously in his ear but ignored it for the time being as he had to focus on the target ahead. As he turned into Paris Gardens on a freezing January night, the sight ahead made him stop in his tracks. The suspect had gone. Keeping his pistol out in front of him, he slowly began to walk along the path that was lined with trees and bushes.
Akira stayed still and put every muscle on alert, remembering his experience at the station. This agent was a threat. Closing his eyes, he waited several minutes. Akira could feel anger all through his body and he recalled patchy memories from his previous life, when he might have held some deep reluctance for what he was about to do. But the years had changed him and there was no turning back. Everything was so clear. He could feel Madeline inside of him and with her the confidence that readied him for the final act.
Cunningham moved past several oak trees, his eyes wide and his trigger finger waiting for that snap. Not for one moment did he realise that he’d passed his target seconds ago.
Akira slowly rose from the shadows and then leapt forwards towards the threat. His hands wrapped around Cunningham’s body and flicked the Browning pistol away like a toy. A feeling of raw power consumed him as he held the man’s life in his hands. That feeling was now all that Akira lived for. Seizing Cunningham’s neck with such ruthless force, there was never any chance of a cry for help from his soon to be victim. His dark eyes surveyed the surrounding area with a cold look, knowing it was time to finish things. Akira took hold of the man’s windpipe and prepared for the crushing twist. Unlike in Russia, there was no doubt, just clinical efficiency.
Seconds passed, then he dropped the body to the ground and ran to the gate. Within moments, he was mixing with several partygoers and gave no look back to the scene he had just caused.
Already in his conscience, his actions had been warranted. In the years to come when the West had fallen and the world had changed, all the sacrifices that had already occurred and would take place in the future would go down as something that simply had to be done. He picked up the pace and headed to Stamford Street. Despite the scare, his arrogance and belief in his dream remained. MI5 and MI6 were close but they would be no match for him and his followers.
Back in Operations Command, Deane waited silently to hear again from his friend. Minutes had passed and his heart was starting to beat faster. He exchanged a look with Olsen, who was looking increasingly agitated.
‘Ron, come in please.’ Still there was no reply. ‘Report!’
The radio crackled to life but it wasn’t Cunningham. The lead agent of Unit Two came on the line with a grim tone. ‘We’re too late, sir. Cunningham is dead and there’s no trace of the target.’
Deane’s blue eyes were alight with determination as he looked to one of the technicians who had been tracking the signal. ‘Location?’
A nearby technician studied the statistics on her screen for a moment and then made eye contact with her superior. ‘Paris Gardens sir, it’s just minutes from the building we’ve been monitoring.’
‘Then that’s where we’re heading now.’ Deane turned to his partner. ‘I’ll clear it with the management. Load your weapons and make sure you’re ready. This Operation is a go.’
Chapter 2
Wednesday, February 1st 07:45,
Empty office building, Stamford Street,
Central London.
The deafening noise of a gun battle could be heard all around the Blackfriars and Waterloo area. From the iconic red and white Blackfriars Bridge, the famous Savoy Hotel, or even the stunningly beautiful St Paul’s Cathedral itself. There was no denying it.
The threat of terrorism had arrived in London.
Olsen and Deane, the very best that MI6 had to offer, stood firm as the battle continued. Both men were crouched low behind upturned tables but their attacks were forcing the terrorists back. The two agents, when working side by side, were an experienced and highly effective partnership.
Several of the remaining attackers broke away from the reception area and sprinted down the corridor towards the stairs, in a damp and murky office block in Stamford Street.
Deane, a man who regularly defied his four decades had seen it all many times before. In one quick motion, he loaded a fresh cartridge into his choice of weapon, a British made Spitfire G1 silver pistol and looked back to his partner. ‘Hold this position, I can handle them from here!’
Olsen, in his late twenties and far more headstrong, saw his partner clear the table and give chase but wasn’t about to miss out on the glory. He reloaded his silver Beretta 92G and joined Deane as they both continued the gunfight down the corridor.
Taking cover at the bottom of a silver steel staircase, Olsen remembered the last couple of hours, which had caused Operation Concealment to pick up pace. When the news came in that MI5 agent Ron Cunningham and his partner had been murdered, they had mobilised the team and attacked the known location, despite the disagreement of MI6 HQ in the decision.
‘If we wait a moment more, this opportunity will disappear and those men will have died for nothing. I’m mobilising the team, right now!’
Deane had said those words to his superior just twenty minutes ago,
before slamming the phone down.
Now, Olsen knelt close to his mentor and waited for the next move. Behind him, a mixture of MI5, MI6 and French agents spread out into the winding corridors to flush out any remaining threats.
Deane didn’t take his eyes off the men at the top of the stairs and was confident he could make the shot and storm the staircase to prevent their escape. How they were planning on leaving he didn’t know but one thing was certain, none of them would escape. He could feel his partner’s presence behind him and wasn’t surprised at all. To his right was Marraud, his old friend from the French Secret Service. ‘Take charge down here, Patrice. Olsen and I will head upstairs.’
Maraud agreed and mobilized the men to continue their sweep of the ground floor.
Deane’s left hand went up to signal his young charge to standby. Seconds passed as he waited. Suddenly, he snapped his hand down and moved off. ‘NOW!’
The thunderous noise of gunfire filled the building as sparks flew and screams of pain emerged from the darkness.
Akira, on the ground floor and barricaded into a room, looked up as another attack could be heard from above. His thoughts turned to his loyal followers who were no doubt sacrificing their lives to guarantee his escape. It couldn’t be helped; it was vital that he got away. The diversion that was taking place would keep the attackers busy so he could leave.
His hands fumbled around his neck and found what they were looking for. A quaint looking silver locket captivated Akira as he studied it carefully. Holding it tightly in his right hand, Akira closed his eyes and could almost feel himself growing in strength. At the same time, the voice of his lost wife Madeline came to him once more and he opened the locket to see them both together in happier times. He himself, smiling away, looked unrecognisable but Madeline looked positively glowing. He missed her so much, every hour felt lonesome and empty without her. A dark memory came back to him and he winced in pain at the power of it. Trying desperately to push it away, he almost succeeded but still saw glimpses of the hospital bed and the repetitive beep of the life support machine. Akira opened his eyes and they burned brightly. Madeline was gone and there was much to do.