TAKING STOCK
The operation to rescue an American politician from the clutches of a splinter cell, part of Italy's Communist Red Brigade had gone well. It is one of the most successful European terrorist organisations in operation at the moment. The American Cory Johnson who was visiting Britain as part of a peace keeping force, had been kidnapped at gun point from his west London hotel room three days ago. George Cowley had immediately sprung into action after being summoned to the offices of the PM.
Although Mr Johnson was not a high ranking official in the American government and not generally known to the British public, he was no less important to George Cowley. This was his country, his domain and as the head of CI5 there was no way he was going to let gun hungry urban guerrillas do their dirty work in his back yard. A nasty bunch with the dubious accolade of hijackings, plane bombings and more recently, accused of the kidnapping and the murder of the Italian Prime Minister.
He hastily put together a crack team of his most experienced men. Bodie, Doyle, Murphy and Anson. Also working closely together with MI5 and gathering information from MI6 about these overseas terrorists. He was now ready to move in. They had been tracked down to deserted mansion in Hertfordshire.
They arrived in two cars the first containing Cowley alongside Bodie who was driving. Doyle sat in the back. Murphy was driving the second car with Anson beside him and was having trouble keeping up with an over enthusiastic Bodie as he floored the accelerator of the Capri.
"Bloody hell slow down a bit mate" Murpy muttered as he swung the Granada in to another bend, the two offside wheels lifting off the ground, then slamming back down with force, bouncing and finally gripping the tarmac again.
"Hey watch it" said Anson nervously, gripping the side edge of the seat with both hands.
"Don't blame me" Murph retorted
"Blame the idiot in front"
At that moment Bodie chose to take a look in his mirror and grinned widely, highly amused at the antics of the less experienced driver behind. Doyle caught his look and turned in his seat, seeing the Granada bouncing along he smiled wickedly and spoke in a soft voice….
"Kangaroo juice mate"
"What was that?" Cowley looked up sharply, his attention diverted from the map he had been studying.
"Nothing Sir" they spoke simultaneously. Caught each other's eyes and grinned again.
"Take the next left …it's about a mile up the road…. There's a turn off, a private road take it, and slow down BODIE!" he shouted above the growl of the engine.
Easing off the gas pedal the car slowed to a more reasonable pace, allowing Murphy to catch up. Now turning off to a long gravelled driveway they drove slowly up to the large iron gates. The cars came to a halt and the occupants of both disembarked. From here they could see the roof of the house through the trees.
"We'll walk from here gentlemen" George Cowley announced decisively.
Checking their guns and spare ammunition the five passed through the gates and strode purposely up the drive, keeping a lookout for anyone prowling around. About thirty feet from the house they stopped, and side stepped in to bushes on either side. They proceeded cautiously until reaching the front of the house. Waving his arm in a dismissive gesture Cowley indicated to Murphy and Anson to take the back. Bodie and Cowley were flanked on either side of the large impressive wooden front door. While Doyle stood in the middle raised his drawn gun took aim and blasted it off its hinges. Not having to be told the two agents moved quickly inside, covering each other as they checked room after room on the ground floor. Then all hell let loose, shouts from above, running feet on bare floorboards, shots were fired from above their heads. They returned fire, gaining ground, running up the grand staircase sheltering in doorways, waiting for one of those gun happy guerrillas to appear… Only to be cut down, falling inelegantly down the stairs... dead before he hit the bottom. Hearing gunfire Murphy appeared at the foot of the stairs and checked the man over, shouting confirmation of his demise and took the gun from his lifeless hand.
Moving with caution they continued their assent, Murphy now bringing up the rear. Reaching the top landing, one each side of the first door they came to, guns at face level Bodie took a stride back and kicked in the door with terrific force. Doyle turned and fired into the empty room.
Moving on to the next, systematically checking all the rooms one by one. Coming up to the last door they knew there were going to be fireworks!
Murphy joined them. On a silent count of three they burst through the door, only to be confronted by a very frightened American diplomat, who was gagged, and bound by ropes to an old decrepit bed with a sagging flock mattress. Backing out of the room Bodie and Doyle explored the rest of the landing and found a back staircase that had been probably used by servants in times gone by. Leaving Murphy to tend to the American they descended cautiously once more to the lower floors.
Finding no one in the house they reached the ground floor to be met by Cowley at the precariously leaning front door.
"What's happening?" he demanded
"One, dead terrorist Sir, the American's ok, Murph's bringing him down" replied Doyle.
"Where the Bloody Hell are they?" asked a frustrated Bodie.
Suddenly shots rang out coming from the direction of the back of the house. Looking at each other they spoke in unison
"Anson"
Tearing round to the back they stopped on reaching the corner.
"Cover me" shouted Doyle.
Doyle covered the distance to the long deserted stable block in less than five seconds, while Bodie fired off a round of bullets.
"Doyle….…Doyle"
The breathy sound reached Doyle's ears and he turned and looked to find Anson slumped against one of the empty stalls. Blood pouring from a gunshot wound to the thigh.
Keeping low he crawled over to where Anson lay.
"You ok mate" he asked concern in his voice.
"Yeah" replied Anson through gritted teeth trying to stem the flow of blood with his hands.
"There's two of em over there" he stated nodding his head to a tumble down barn.
"Just hang on alright" Doyle told him fiercely.
Raising his head above the parapet, Doyle gestured to Bodie pointing to the barn. Bodie gave slight nod to acknowledge he understood, while Doyle fired he made his way around the back of the barn. Cowley and Murphy had now joined the men, where Bodie had been standing a few moments before, behind the wall, keeping the diplomat close to them.
"Anson's down Sir" Doyle shouted from his position.
Immediately Cowley was on R/T calling for ambulances to attend. The gun men were surrounded and if they didn't give up it was going to be a blood bath. Not that he expected them to. They were fanatics fighting for a cause he couldn't and didn't want to understand. But he had to try and at least give them a chance to surrender.
"Il vostro circonato Gettate le armi e venire fuori con le mani in alto" he spoke in Italian." There was no answer
"You are surrounded throw down your guns and come out with your hands up" he repeated this time in English.
All of a sudden the men rushed out from the barn, firing randomly at anything that moved, hoping to take at least a few with them on their last journey from this world to the next.
They got no more than ten feet before they were shot down in a hail of bullets. Cowley raised his hand to signal to his agents to stop firing as the two Italians lay still were they fell.
As the haze of gun smoke cleared and the sound of silence returned the CI5 men moved in to take a closer look.
"Bloody fools" Cowley spoke angrily before moving off to inspect Anson's injuries for himself.
Sounds of sirens now filled the warm afternoon air. With Anson safely tucked in the back of the ambulance and off to hospital, the three Italians carted off in the same mode of transport, but without the same urgency. Cowley, Doyle, Bodie, Murphy and the Yank made the long walk back to their waiting cars.
"I'll take Mr Johnson back with me, Murphy you're driving" ordered Cowley
"Not coming with us Sir?" Bodie asked innocently
"I think Mr Johnson has had enough excitement for one day don't you Bodie?
"Yes Sir" Bodie replied with a smirk.
On the long drive back to HQ sitting in the companionable silence of the car, Doyle asked
"Where do you think the old man learned to speak Italian then?"
Bodie shrugged his shoulders.
"Maybe he had a bella donna, when he was out there fighting in all those wars"
"What…..Nah….No"
"Well I don't know do I? you're the one with the Italian connections you work it out"
Turning to face Bodie with a big grin plastered across his face, he replied
"He could ave a grande salsiccia"
"What the hell is that when it's at ome?"
"A big sausage!" Doyle laughs
" Nah mate….. more like a chipolata"
THE END