That afternoon
Wednesday
Canary Wharf
There was heavy security here, due to this being the financial district.
That fact worried me, but we had a fucking job to do. As we walked up West India Avenue, with my baseball cap pulled down tight over my hair, I tried not to look up and gate myself tagged by one of the hundreds of CCTV cameras that monitored our every move.
We had a man to kill. He had to die, I had no idea why and I did not want to know. I did not have a conscience as such, so I didn't really care who he was or whether he had a family. The British Government seemed to want him dead and that was good enough for me, right here and now.
The kill would be accomplished this evening and it would be after dark and well after most of the thousands of people here had gone home.
That evening
Canary Wharf
The target was working late, this evening. Which was normal, according to the briefing papers that Mitchell had provided.
The man stayed in a duplex apartment on the twentieth floor of the building at Number One, West India Quay. I still saw this as a damn suicide mission, but we had no choice and we did have a unique method of entry, courtesy of that asshole. We had arrived by train, with all of our equipment, which was relatively simple if slightly nerve-racking, as I had absolutely, no intention of having a gunfight on a train!
We had geared up as much as possible, without looking like we were about to start a small war in the London Docklands! On leaving the train and returning to ground level, we found ourselves at the foot of the target building, on the side of the dock. As planned, there was a man waiting for us and he was standing beside our way up the building.
In crude terms, it was a basket and it was used to wash the many windows that made up the thirty-three floors, of the one hundred and eleven metre tall building.
"Mitchell sends his love – you guys are fucking nuts!" The man said as he left, also throwing us a set of keys.
We did not have long, so we all climbed into the basket, Dave flipped the controls, and we moved slowly up the south face of the building. We rapidly started gearing up, as the time ticked towards eleven o'clock. Dave stopped the basket eight floors up and above the lights that illuminated the docks. We were alongside an empty apartment, so we finished getting our gear together.
Minutes later, we started our ascent again.
Each of us was blacked out and had our weapons ready. At eleven o'clock, on the dot and just as the basket approached the target floor, all the lights went out for half a mile around. In most cases emergency lighting kicked in, but nothing compared to the floodlighting that usually lit the area.
Dave stopped the basket alongside the target apartment's first floor, just long enough for me to attach an explosive charge to the window, then we went up to the floor above and I pressed the button on the remote detonator in my hand.
The window blew out, the explosion echoing amongst the other tall buildings. Glass rained down onto the dock below and Dave sent the basket back down a floor. We all jumped out of the basket and into the darkened apartment – we could hear screams from the neighbouring apartments. With our NVGs in place, we could see everything that we needed to and Josh headed straight for the main entrance to the apartment, to ensure that our target did not escape.
Chloe stayed with the basket, covering the lounge and the stairs, as Dave and I headed to clear the two bedrooms that were on this level. This did not take long and just as we had checked and cleared the second bedroom, we heard gunfire.
"I'm taking fire from the balcony!" Chloe called and we heard her returning fire with her G36C.
The apartment had an internal balcony looking down onto the double height lounge. We ran to the stairs, which should come up behind the shooter. Dave ran up first, slowing down near the top to check what was waiting for us.
"Three men, one at the balcony, shooting – two more guarding the doorway to the upstairs bedroom," Dave called back.
Time was not on our side, tonight – we needed to finish this and fast if we had any hope of getting out of this with our lives intact!
..._...
Dave moved forward; but he must have been seen, as bullets started to make holes in the wall behind us. I came around his right side and fired several three-round bursts towards the two men guarding the doorway; both fell and didn't move again. Dave, meanwhile almost cut the person shooting at Chloe in half with a long burst of automatic fire. The body fell forward and down to the floor below, where we heard a short and rather crude exclamation from Chloe!
Dave and I moved forwards together, covering each other. We stopped at the double doors and Dave kicked them open. Inside the darkened room, I could sense fear and there, hiding on the far side of the bed, was a man. I shone the beam from the flashlight on my weapon into the man's face. It was our target – Bishop!
We moved forwards together and Dave grabbed the man, dragged him out into the living room, and dumped him next to the still warm bodies, of his men.
..._...
"Why are you doing this?" Bishop demanded, shaking with terror.
"Because I have to!" I responded, levelling my pistol.
"I need a better answer than that."
"I don't know; try this on for size: Ian Bishop – you have failed this city!" I declared with a smirk. "Happy?"
"Not really."
"Neither am I!" I said and pulled the trigger twice.
Dave and I ran down to the lounge and yelled for Josh to join us.
"Thanks for throwing bullet-ridden corpses at me!" Chloe growled with a grin.
"Don't say that I never give you anything!" I quipped in return.
"Gee thanks, pal!"
We all jumped through the smashed window and into the waiting basket, Dave hit the lever, and we descended fast. We could hear sirens approaching from all sides, different sirens. I knew that we would soon be seeing Police Cars, Fire Engines and Ambulances. Below us, we could see people on the dock. Nobody below thought to look up as we descended, which was all the better, as once Dave stopped the basket we had just seconds to move, before people suddenly noticed black clad people appearing out of nowhere.
We ran towards a black Ford Transit van. Dave unlocked it with the keys supplied to us not twenty minutes before and we all threw our gear into the back. Josh and Chloe jumped in the back, too while Dave climbed into the driver's seat.
"Escape plan B! Good luck!" I called and ran towards the next building, while Dave started the van and accelerated along the quay, the short distance towards the River Thames.
The bastard had come through; I was very pleased to see.
Despite my dislike for the asshole and hi impossible missions – he did deliver what we asked of him. I pulled on the supplied helmet, started the motorcycle and accelerated away. I had asked for a Ducati, but instead I was riding a smart new BMW K 1300 S in black and silver. The power would be awesome and would get me away from trouble, quite quickly.
I accelerated out onto West India Dock Road. In front of me, I could see lots of blue! I rocketed along the road at almost seventy miles per hour and grinned as I raced past a large Police station that was only just coming to life
The drive to the River Thames, did not take long, being only a little over seven hundred metres.
Dave stopped the van at the top of some steps and we jumped out with all our equipment – abandoning the van. We ran down the steps and towards the water. There beside the jetty was our escape route. It was a Pacific 24 Rigid Inflatable Boat, as used by the Royal Navy.
"You know what you're doing?" Chloe asked.
"Yeah!" I replied, as I scrambled aboard and onto the seat. All the controls were pre-set for me, so I just needed to press the starter. The large inboard diesel thundered to life, with an almighty roar.
"Cast off the lines," I shouted at Chloe and Dave.
Once the lines were cast off, I engaged the drive and advanced the throttle. Just as we moved away from the Jetty, two Police Officers came running towards us, waving and shouting for us to stop; Dave just waved back!
"Hold on tight!" I yelled and made sure that Dave and Chloe were seated and holding on tight.
I pushed the throttle past the halfway point and we were skimming over the water at over twenty knots. I turned the wheel and aimed upriver towards our pickup point.
The Road
The plan was that I was to cause as much disruption as possible and therefore to distract Police attention away from Dave, Josh and Chloe.
I had attracted the attention of a Metropolitan Police car almost immediately, but the not so high-performance, Vauxhall Astra diesel stood no chance against my BMW! As, I left Canary Wharf and the Docklands behind, I was heading towards The City of London, on the A13. Within a minute, I had picked up a real Police car, a big BMW 5-series that had a high-performance engine. The blue lights were flashing and the siren was screaming, as I negotiated junctions after junction at speed. Thankfully, the traffic was light, as was to be expected at this time of night.
Something struck me as a little strange – in this country, they made strange decisions when it came to Police vehicles. At one end of the scale, you had large and powerful BMWs, Audis, and Volvos, even Jaguars and Range Rovers, and then at the opposite end of the scale you had those ridiculous little cars with diesel engines!
It did not take long for me to out-manoeuvre the Police car, but just as I thought I was in the clear, a much worse problem arrived – actually a pair of them! Two Metropolitan Police motorcycles turned in behind me. These motorcycles were comparable in power and acceleration to mine and ridden by professionals who knew how to use them.
Chicago
United States of America
I answered the phone.
"Marcus, its Marty – do you get Sky News?"
"Yeah, I think so – hang on – do I want to know why?"
"Probably not – but..."
I flicked over the channel and...
"Oh no!"
It was a Sky News report from London, England. Apparently, there was something going on. There had been a shooting near the financial district of the City of London and there was a high-speed boat escaping up the River Thames and a high-powered motorcycle attempting to escape the Police!
Currently, we could see images of a darkened London, with the river and a large boat flying over the water, pursued by what seemed to be Police boats. The image then changed to show a solo motorcyclist that the commentator had said was obviously an expert and was weaving in and out of traffic and through junctions with obvious Police vehicles following behind with blue lights flashing.
"Oh God, Mindy! What have you gotten yourself involved with now?" I groaned.
"She looks like she knows what she is doing – assuming it is Mindy!" Paige commented.
"It's Mindy – it has to be!" I grimaced. "But she is good and I really hope she escapes!"
"Come on guys! It's fucking Hit Girl for fuck's sake – of course she's fucking good and of course she'll fucking escape!" Megan announced.
"Megan..."
"Yeah! I know... Four dollars... Jar!" Megan growled, as she headed over to the jar, muttering under her breath.
"Better make it another five - I heard what you were muttering!" Paige suggested strongly.
"But that's all I have!" Megan whined.
"Megan..."
"Yeah! I Know... I have to earn it!"
London
United Kingdom
The River Thames
We were powering up river.
We had picked up a Police RIB, very similar to ours, but we had a plan for this! I shot under Tower Bridge at well over thirty knots and narrowly missed a much larger Police boat with its blue flashing light. The very similar Police RIB that was following us was able to keep pace easily. We raced under three more bridges and then the Millennium Bridge. After Blackfriars Bridge, but before Waterloo Bridge there were some moored pleasure craft moored in the river. For just a moment, we lost sight of the pursuing RIB, so I pulled back the throttles smartly and turned the RIB sharply to port to avoid being sunk by our own wash.
The Police RIB belted past, but then slowed and turned before it had passed Embankment Pier. It headed back towards us, its blue light flashing. We had only minutes to carry out our plan before the larger, but much slower, Police boats caught up.
The two Police Officers in their seven and a half metre RIB would not be easily fooled. We left our hidden position and headed slowly up river, as if we had not a care in the world.
…_...
The Police RIB pulled alongside.
"Who are you?" One Officer called.
I pointed back at the stern, where Chloe had unfurled the White Ensign that, up to this point, had been tightly wrapped around the flagstaff.
"HMS Richmond!" I called. "Alongside at Greenwich!"
That was partially fact. The Type 23 frigate, HMS Richmond was moored at Greenwich, further down river, at this very minute! The RIB that we were currently borrowing belonged to that warship, so my explanation could be seen as genuine.
The two Police Officers conferred for a minute.
"Pull the other one!" The officer answered loudly over the noise of the throbbing engines. "Show me some identification!"
"Try this!" Dave announced, pointing his G36C at the Officers who froze and kept their hands high and to their sides.
"You both got your dry suits on, I see!" I commented, looking at the two Police Officers.
"Shadow, do your stuff!"
"Aye, aye, Sir!" Chloe replied with a grin and she dived into the Police RIB and severed the fuel line that led to the large outboard engine and removed the kill-cord from the main console and threw it overboard. Finally, she removed the battery isolation key and sent it after the kill-cord.
"Time for a swim, boys!" She growled and kicked both Police Officers over the side, before jumping easily back into our RIB.
We left the floating Police Officers and their RIB and continued up river. To anybody watching, we were just another RIB cruising up river searching for the runaway boat. Our ruse should, we hoped, work until the two Officers got out of the water.
..._...
We raced past the London Eye, before we stopped at a pier on the Albert Embankment. We were met on the pier by Mac, who helped us out of the borrowed RIB, which I tied up and left beside the pier.
"You guys okay, Dave?" Mac asked.
Somewhere to the east
I wasn't one hundred percent sure where I was, but I had eluded the Police – for now!
I had pulled up beside some tall buildings, grouped together. The place was dark with most of the street lighting non-functional. My instincts told me that the area was not safe, especially not for the average lone female on a high-end motorcycle – but then there was nothing average about me!
"Well hello!" A sleazy voice called and I turned to my left to see three young men walking towards me. "You lost, little missy?"
"Just taking a break," I replied and moved my right hand from the throttle to the G36C slung across my chest.
"Trying to avoid the Old Bill?" The man asked.
I assumed that he meant the Police.
"Maybe," I answered.
"Now, I could help you with that – for a fee, of course – you and that gorgeous figure, would be the fee," The man said, with a dirty look. "You really do look fuckable!"
His mates laughed and made additional lewd comments; I was starting to feel uncomfortable.
"I may be fuckable, but not by you, you slimy cunt!" I growled.
"Now you watch your fucking mouth, girly!" The man yelled and he came right up to me.
I kicked the man hard, between the legs and he bent double and collapsed to the floor. His mates started advancing towards me, one of whom brought out a flick knife.
"Hey assholes! Something for you to remember: Dick with knife shouldn't attack girl with assault rifle!" I growled and the two men stopped dead, as I raised the weapon up. I kicked the motorcycle into first and then accelerated away.
..._...
I needed to ditch this motorcycle; it was hot property now.
I also needed help, so I found a safer place to park up and sent an emergency text. A reply came almost immediately.
'20mins. Stay there – challenge will be HAMMER.'
Mayfair
Mac had dropped us off, back at the house in Mayfair.
I was more than a little concerned when I found that Mindy was not back yet, but Mac had received a text from Jen saying that Mindy had called for help. I started to feel intensely worried, but Mac was able to confirm that help was on its way to Mindy – very capable help.
A dozen miles east of Mayfair
It was getting fucking cold now.
I had stashed the motorcycle in a ditch and awaited my escort, which arrived almost on the dot. It was a dark coloured Range Rover, which pulled up and the passenger window went down.
"Mindy?" An American voice called and I recognised it instantly. "I'm Hammer!"
As I pulled the door shut and started to pull on my seatbelt, I turned to look into the smiling face of Captain Harman Rabb Jr.
