Task Force V`s 18th Brigade
Tank exited the side door of a black Mercedes Vito van and checked all the fastenings on his battle vest; Grace Farrington was close behind him checking hers. Uniformed officers, led by Chen, were taking up positions at the rear of the Orford Arms; its` towering chimney pots and tall arched windows resembled a scene from a history book. Two police vans parked at the side of the building to stop anyone exiting the courtyard gates. There were six Terrorist Task Force agents plus Tank, Faz and Chen, supported by an Armed Response Unit which consisted of twenty men that were dressed like Robo-cop. Local law enforcement units had shared detailed knowledge with the Task Force about the layout of the building. It was like a rabbit warren inside. The building had four storeys above ground level, a courtyard and annexe buildings to the rear. In addition there was a cavernous beer cellar below ground. There were rumours of a hidden arm cache, which previous raids had failed to uncover, but none of the undercover agents could confirm or deny its existence. The 18th Brigade was under covert investigation for several years. The Merseyside Police Force and the Greater Manchester divisions had undercover officers planted in the ranks of the Brigade, and their positions were well established within the organisation. They were in the process of building cast iron cases against Pete Dodge and his Lieutenants for offences including drug trafficking, racketeering, extortion and incitement to racial violence. The offences that the traditional enforcement agencies were investigating were beyond the jurisdiction of the Terrorist Task Force. The riverboat bomb changed that forever. The full attention of International Secret Service Agencies was now firmly focused on the Eastern European, Russian and Chechen operations of a dozen gangs. That included their affiliate organisations such as the 18th Brigade. The apparent kidnap of Jeannie Kellesh was linked to one or all of them, and had the potential to throw the Middle East into chaos.
Tank flicked the safety catch of his 9mm Glock 19, and replaced it in his shoulder holster. Faz did likewise and then she entered the front doors, which led into the main barroom. Four skinheads were playing pool at the right hand side of the room, three more were leaning on the bar holding pint pots of beer. The room descended into complete silence when the door opened and an Afro-Caribbean woman walked in armed to the teeth. The barmaid on duty was peroxide blond with at least an inch of dark black roots showing, and a dozen facial piercings. She was cleaning a glass when Faz walked through the front doors, and as she looked up to greet the new arrival Faz noticed heavy bruising beneath the woman`s eyes. It was as if time had stood still for a moment. The man taking a shot on the pool table completely missed the ball, his friend almost choked on a mouthful of beer. The barmaid dropped the glass she was cleaning as the shock of a black woman entering the Orford Arms sunk in. Tank followed her closely and he laughed as he saw the confused expressions on the faces of the Orford`s Nazi clientele. Tank`s appearance confused them further still because he looked like he belonged in the 18th Brigade. He flashed a badge at the barmaid and asked to speak to Pete Dodge. Faz made her way over to the doorway next to the pool table, where she could see four men playing cards at a table in the small back room. One of the men fitted the description of Pete Dodge; the men stared in silence at the dark skinned woman, venom in their eyes.
“Who`s asking?” said one of the men at the bar. He was wearing a green United States Air Force, bomber jacket; bleached jeans and high cut Doc Martin boots. The big skinhead was the epitome of white power skins. He stepped closer to Tank as he spoke, which unfortunately for him was a huge mistake.
Tank`s hand speed was incredible for such a big man. His right hand shot toward the advancing skinhead and smashed into his larynx with his fingers extended into what martial artists call a knife hand. When the fingers are straightened tightly together they become a lethal weapon if they are used in a stabbing motion against the softer areas of an opponent`s body, such as the throat or eyes. Tank drove his extended fingers hard into the windpipe area. The skinhead folded from the knees and he dropped onto the barroom floor gasping for breath. A second Brigade man swung a clumsy punch toward Tank, who stepped inside the blow and drove a powerful head butt into the skinhead`s face, crushing his nose and fracturing his cheekbone simultaneously. The unconscious Brigade man rocked back violently against the wooden bar cracking his skull, and then joined his colleague on the floor.
Faz watched the men in the back room. They stopped playing cards when they heard the altercation in the front bar. She sensed movement behind her. A pool cue whistled through the air aimed for her head, she ducked beneath the blow and the cue shattered against the wall. Faz kicked hard at her attacker`s knee joint. The heel of her foot connected with the skinhead`s kneecap snapping the joint backward with an audible crack. He screamed and fell beneath the pool table clutching his shattered limb. Faz stamped her foot hard into his temple and he fell silent. She pulled her 9mm Glock to discourage any further attacks and the advancing skinheads stopped in their tracks.
“Pete Dodge is in the back room Tank,” Faz said covering the remaining Brigade members with her weapon.
Uniformed officers entered and started to handcuff the Brigade men in the front bar. One of the card players launched a pint glass at Faz and it smashed against the wooden doorframe close to her head, causing her to turn away for a moment. When she looked back Pete Dodge and his affiliates were disappearing down the cellar steps.
“I`ll go first, you cover my back,” Tank said as he reached the top of the basement stairs. He flicked the light switch but nothing happened. He tried it again but the cellar stayed in darkness. Faz reached into a small black belt pouch and retrieved two mag-lights. They clicked them on top of their gun barrels to illuminate the staircase and the cellar beyond. Tank advanced down the steps into the darkness, his mag-light gave him a limited field of vision. The smell of stale beer became stronger as reached the cellar floor; the staircase creaked loudly behind him as Faz descended. The cellar seemed to stretch forever in both directions.
“I`ll take left, you go right,” Faz said sticking to the contours of the cellar wall as she disappeared out of sight. Tank nodded a silent confirmation and crouched low as he headed in the opposite direction. He stopped suddenly as he heard the clattering of an aluminium beer barrel ahead of him somewhere in the gloom. He shone his mag-light in a wide arc around the huge basement trying to locate the fugitives. A barrel clanged against the concrete floor and the silhouette of a large Brigade man loomed behind it. The deafening noise of a 12-bore Mossberg shotgun being discharged echoed through the darkness. The blast slammed against the stonewall and showered Tank with sparks. Tank fired three times in the direction of the gun-flash. A muffled shriek and the sound of barrels clattering indicated that he had struck his target, the clatter of the shotgun falling on the concrete floor echoed through the cellar.
Faz froze when she heard the gunfire coming from the direction that Tank had taken. She pressed herself flat against the cellar wall and listened intently, the sound of breathing was coming from a dark corner of the basement that she couldn’t see clearly. The breathing sounded laboured, the gunfire had obviously made someone nervous. Suddenly a Brigade man broke cover and ran toward Faz`s position. He held a Scorpion machine pistol in his hands and he fired it`s deadly high velocity bullets in a random arc. The Scorpion can release one hundred high velocity bullets a minute and the brigade man unleashed a lethal barrage. Bullets ricocheted in all directions and Faz knelt behind a metal beer barrel for cover. The skinhead was twenty-yards away when Faz aimed the 9mm Glock and pumped five bullets into the man`s chest and midriff. He staggered and fell knocking over a shelf containing spirit bottles. The bottles shattered on the concrete floor, their contents spilling across a wide area of the basement. The wounded man tried desperately to stand and raise his weapon. Faz fired again and the bullet left a ragged bloody hole in his forehead as it entered his skull and turned his brains to grey mush. The high velocity bullet exited his brain taking a large chunk of bone with it; the bullet struck the cellar wall and sparks sprayed the air. The hot metal fragments landed in the pool of alcohol and a huge wall of flame erupted from the basement floor.
Tank heard the unmistakable noise of an automatic machine gun behind him, and then saw the flickering glow of flame spreading from the far end of the basement, where Grace had headed. Tank knew Grace was the best agent he had worked with, but their sexual relationship had developed into something much more. He had become worried for her safety in a way he would never be about other agents. There could be no room for emotions in a fire fight. He couldn’t remain down there for much longer or the basement would become a tomb. A square of light appeared in the basement ceiling about sixty-yards ahead of him. Tank realised that a delivery hatch was opened as an escape route. He raised his weapon and aimed at the open hatch, waiting for a target to immerge into the light. For what felt like an age nothing happened. Someone was waiting for him to disclose his position. There was a sudden flash of light from below the hatch, and a deafening roar as another Mossberg 12-gauge shotgun unleashed its deadly load. Tank ducked behind a barrel for cover and watched dismayed as the silhouette of a man sprinted up the delivery hatch stairs to freedom. The shotgun blast was covering fire for one man to escape, and the chances of them repeating the process were good. Tank steadied the Glock on top of the barrel he was using for cover, and he felt sweat trickling down his back as he tensed for the shot. The Mossberg roared again and again, both loads of shot crashing into the low ceiling, shattering fluorescent light tubes into a thousand pieces, forcing Tank to cover his eyes for precious seconds.
At the other end of the cellar Faz moved quickly away from the spreading inferno and headed toward Tank`s position. She navigated between the cellar`s paraphernalia silently, keeping the Glock aimed in front of her. She saw the delivery hatch opening and spotted Tank`s muscular frame taking cover from a shotgun blast. He looked as if were about to fire when another shadowy figure appeared behind him. Tank was caught cold; he had not heard the assailant creeping up on him in the dark. Faz fired twice at the figure knocking the man off his feet as the bullets slammed into his back. A second later the shape of a man appeared on the delivery hatch stairs and Tank fired. The figure seemed to continue unaffected for a moment, then he span off the staircase completing a bizarre cartwheel as he crashed to the cellar floor.
“Thanks, I owe you one,” Tank said to Grace as she caught up. She nodded her affirmation and took up a covering position next to him. He shone his mag-light along the cellar wall. A large wine rack was pushed aside revealing a small room hidden behind it that was fitted with gun racks. The racks were nearly empty. Tank looked at Faz and they silently acknowledged that empty gun racks were a very bad omen. They headed toward the safety of the delivery hatch away from the spreading flames.
The courtyard was like a scene from a Second World War movie. Tank counted over a dozen men lined up against the walls with their hands cuffed behind them. Uniformed policemen were bundling them into the back of prison vans. Chen approached Tank shaking his head.
“There is no sign of Pete Dodge. He must be still be in the cellar,” Chen said.
“Did you see anyone coming out of that delivery hatch before we did?” Tank said, knowing that he saw someone escape from the cellar.
“We were busy rounding up this bunch of Storm Troopers! I didn’t notice anyone,” Chen said, alluding to the numerous Nazi tattoos that the Brigade men displayed.
Tank knew that the 18th Brigade leader had escaped capture. He was concerned that Dodge was at liberty. Tank had no idea what was planned for nine o’clock that evening. The 18th Brigade was fully armed and set to strike back at their Russian partners in retaliation for the Kellesh incident. Tank turned to watch the advancing flames as they spread up the building from the cellar threatening to devour it. They could hear small explosions from the cellar as bottles of spirits were engulfed by the flames.
“Do you think we should call the fire department?” Chen asked sarcastically.
“I can`t see any fire, let it burn” Tank said walking away.