I was sooo glad so many people found this interesting enough to put on their favourite or alert lists! I decided to give you this quick update before the weekend when I won't be at home.
I guess there'll be some things in this to review about...
Oh, and btw sorry about my German... Ten years of learning just aren't enough to be able to make a correct sentence...
Chapter 1 – Waltz in a palace
The call was registered at exactly 8.32 pm. It was only 16 seconds long: a frightened voice calling for help because his school, Saint Catherine's College, had been attacked, and most of the pupils taken hostage. He rushed through the words, not giving the officer at the other end of the line the chance to say a word. The call ended hurriedly.
Under other circumstances, the police and maybe some units of Special Forces would have been notified and called there, but this was not an ordinary school: Saint Catherine's had been founded after the First World War in an old Victorian building in the heart of London, for the children of the many diplomats working in the city. Unlike other schools, in Saint Catherine's the school year had started two weeks late, as the buildings had recently been undergoing renovation.
According to the regulations, the officer should have called the headmaster; but unfortunately he was on a holiday in New Zealand at his sister's and was not available. So the officer, heavily sweating now, called on the teacher in charge to look for the children staying at the school - those who had not been able to stay with their parents until the renovations ended. Although the call to the telephone in their hostel (located a few hundred metres from the school building itself) was not answered, fortunately the answering machine of the teacher's mobile was more helpful: the woman had changed the automatic reply in case a worrying parent should call.
Five minutes after the SAS got the case, they had discovered the reason the pupils had been in the old building and not at their hostel for tonight: Saint Catherine's had a park embracing the main buildings and it was in the school's work plan to go out in the evening and observe the natural night life. The teacher must have thought it easier to show a relatively small group of students at first.
Amongst the hostages there were more than five diplomats' children, the son of the German ambassador to England, three children of highly ranked military officers and the daughter of a royal prince. According to the rules and weighing the seriousness of the situation, twenty units were sent – the most possible. Only five remained at the base near London.
The thudding noise of the helicopters must have been heard by the unknown terrorist group as well, but this was the easiest way to reach the school – it took less than fourteen minutes. The police had secured the building, which was completely dark and seemed empty. During the flight, the SAS soldiers had got the general blueprints, but only a very old plan was available in the computer database. This database was supposed to contain the blueprints of every single building near London with a high security rating, but right now, nobody stopped to ask how the real blueprint had disappeared. There was no time for it.
The terrorists had no known demands, nor any sort of communication with the military forces assembling in front of their door. Nobody asked why – they were soldiers following commands, and the command was to free the hostages and resolve the situation as soon as possible. The first units used the newest helicopters available at the base, but twelve of the latter units had to be transported a slower way.
The eight units which had come with the helicopters were taking their appointed positions when several shots were heard from the dark school yard. After a short conference, the units decided to enter the area from different directions. If they waited, it could endanger the lives of the hostages.
The building had a difficult layout, and without the appropriate blueprints, and considering the recent changes in the situation within the building, the soldiers had no real chance of following the terrorists if they decided to take the hostages and move further. The eight units split up and took their positions at the various exits. This needed six of them – only two units remained to break into the school.
The leader of this action was a colonel named Hugh Smith. He was sitting outside in one of the helicopters coordinating the motion of the units. Every man had a built in radio in their combat uniform; it used a low frequency transmitter with a small broadcast radius. However, this time, there was obviously aproblem with the radio connection: once the soldiers entered the park around the building, only stratospheric noise could be heard in the devices.
When the last twelve units finally arrived, thirty-one minutes after the phone call, the two assault units were missing. Since they had entered, seven minutes earlier, their backup had received no sign that they were still alive. The next units were much more cautious after that. They could only hope that the problem was merely technical, and the soldiers were unharmed.
No calls for help, no danger-signs had been given: they could hope for the best. However, the arriving forces had found that one of the units guarding an exit had also disappeared. They were SAS: these soldiers did not panic, though an ominous feeling was beginning to disturb them. This mission was somehow far more difficult than it should have been. The disappeared guard unit's place was filled again and the now only eleven new units took their places for the invasion of the old Victorian palace.
They planned to attack at three more hidden entrances: four units through the cellar, four through the kitchen, and the last three at the side door of the Eastern wing. There was nobody there to notice that one more unit had been eliminated at one of the escape routes.
The building, once the palace of a duke, was much more like a labyrinth than a school. It had long, narrow corridors, maiden-staircases, dark corners and small chambers. Most of the rooms had several entrances and there were no large halls, which usually made easy targets for an assault team. The terrorists had chosen the scene of their little charade well.
There still wasn't any sign of the hostages or the terrorists who used an unknown, but obviously efficient technique to ambush and eliminate enemy soldiers. It was a slow, nerve-racking advance for the SAS troops, with every room a possible ambush: so when S unit caught a glimpse of a boy lying, silently sobbing, on the floor, they almost shot him out of sheer surprise. The team's leader, codenamed Goat, instinctively tried to notify Command of the first appearing sign of success – but there was no response, besides the dead buzzing in the device. He sighed and waved forward one of his team-mates to take the boy out from the corner he was curled up.
The man was called Monkey because of the jokes he liked to ease the tension with during training, and the permanent sense of humour which never disappeared from him. The boy slowly stood up and started to gabble something incomprehensibly quickly in an unknown language. Monkey waved to Chamois, who was supposed to speak the language, which he recognised as German. Amongst the hostages there was a German schoolboy, Hans Krüger, the son of the German ambassador.
"Es gab mehr als ein hundert großen Mann hier, sie waren in schwarzen Kleider und hatten uns…" They boy babbled. Monkey was right: he was speaking German. Not because he was German: he had nothing to do with Germany or the German ambassador and he wasn't the least bit Hans Krüger. Yet he was speaking German fluently with almost perfect pronunciation; not that it would have counted: Chamois didn't speak German at that level.
The two men had come close. They had no fears about the boy – he was one of the hostages who they were supposed to save.
Monkey's and Chamois' psychologists would need to spend much time with them later, trying to heal the wounds this betrayal would cause them: though it took only three seconds for the innocent German boy to, gathering momentum, kick them in two sensitive points; and so the world darkened for two more of the eighty soldiers that had been called out.
Goat sensed something hit his head from behind and fell to the ground soundlessly. A young girl was standing there, moving quickly, but still the last of the unit, Panther, had time for a short shout before he was knocked out as well.
P unit was the nearest and they hurried to help their mates without reporting the dangerous situation to any other units nearby. Another mistake, but one they would realize only later – the soldiers were just too used to using radios and modern communication.
The two attackers quickly dragged the unconscious soldiers to another room. In a matter of seconds, there was no sign of the ambush left. The girl who had taken out Goat and Panther nodded to the boy and climbed backup to her hiding-place: during the renovation, some scaffolding had been erected right above the door to the room, and perched on that the girl was completely concealed. The boy curled back into the corner and began quietly sobbing.
One minute later another unit was neutralized.
With the two units from the first assault, the two missing guard units plus these, they had neutralised six teams from the original twenty sent. It was time to knock out another guard unit while the rest of the invading troops – nine teams at the moment, excluding the ones who had already fallen - were searching for the nonexistent hostages throughout the palace. Five units were still at guard posts scattered around the building: the soldiers' enemies had much more work to do tonight. It was 9.10 pm; thirty-six minutes had passed since the phone call.
The speed the two children displayed in binding the soldiers showed they had had much experience at this. The men each got a gag shoved into their mouth to preserve the silence of the palace, should they wake. Before their departure the children walked around and locked the doors, quickly choosing the right keys off a large ring. The soldiers would remain there until their reinforcement forces find them – at about six in the morning. They would have much time to think about the mistakes they had made…
D unit was standing impatiently outside the building's walls. They had arrived with the first group at helicopters, and had been standing there for seventeen minutes. It wasn't a long wait – but for soldiers who knew exactly how much each second counted in a battle, it was an eternity. They were nervous for their comrades and the lack of radio connection made them worry even more. However, they didn't know the magnitude of the real danger; they still thought that there was no way twenty units could be defeated by a terrorist group which hadn't even shown itself.
The girl running towards them was crying and wailing in a foreign language at the same time. Panda, however, seemed to understand her – the girl must have been talking in Chinese. Her large, tear-filled eyes had a beautiful almond shape – that was his last conscious thought before he felt a strong blow against his neck and the world darkened in front of his eyes.
The children seemed to have an endless supply of gags.
They carefully checked whether the soldiers had received any serious injuries – but they had done a good job: no wounds or trauma to the head or the spine. The heavy guns they had stolen from the first unit were perfect to give strong impacts without permanent effects.
Some of the nine units inside must have sensed something of the trouble they were in, because they began clustering together and attempting to meet up with the rest of their team mates. The girl ran around to close and lock the door on three teams in the cellar while the boy looked in on the 'attic,' where another two groups were easily trapped. Some equipment they got from the already eliminated soldiers came really handy now – the men dazed by their own grenades were going to be quite easy targets. Four more units were still walking around inside the huge labyrinth. Four pieces of cake.
The children's method of attack was surprisingly simple and surprisingly effective. The soldiers would have never hurt children and they didn't realize the danger they were in until it was too late. The two assailants played with them: knowing the sketch of the palace perfectly, they were able to lead them about wherever they wanted. They opened and closed doors, made noises, then cried and spoke – and kicked and punched, bringing darkness.
The whole process took a bit more than two hours, and the last units still on their feet were practically shaking from the tension. No matter how tough training was, it couldn't prepare them for attacking phantasms and ghosts; being hunted and taken down with ease; walking around in circles while their comrades vanished one by one. It was nerve-grating, and by the end the soldiers were completely neurotic.
Finally, at 10.42 pm, two shadows departed from the building. When, hours later, the police finally dared to enter the palace, they found a letter on the floor of the main hall and eighty highly trained SAS soldiers lying well-bound and completely helpless in several different places within the building.
No hostages were recovered: the threatened children had been at the hostel the whole time. No terrorist organization took responsibility. No usable image was taken of the phantom enemies. No suspect was identified. No soldier managed to slip through the mysterious attackers' clutches.
The colonel considered resigning.
To be continued...