Tidal Rage by David Evans (best big ereader .TXT) 📗

would have been closely followed by several vehicles under any circumstances on any day.

At this stage, Werner sped down Berchtesgadener Strasse approaching thew town of Bayerisch Gmain, Cutler still tailing several cars back. The dull thud of the Ford van explosion was barely audible as it travelled through the alpine passes from four miles away. Cutler was unaware that the counterfeit dollars had gone up in smoke.

Werner was an astute operative. Unlike his dead Austrian counterparts, he would always put his faith in the justice system rather than risk his life by running or trying to skirt a roadblock. After all, Werner could always buy someone, either with money, or information he held on them from his days in the Stasi, and thus minimize any charges, or make them go away entirely.

Cutler had discussed the details with the German police commander on the ideal place to set up the roadblock. Both had finally agreed to locate the barrier half way around the steep hairpin on Haniel Strasse. The road narrowed and turned back on itself down a steep incline. The road had been blocked by police cars at both ends after Werner left to ensure no other traffic was coming from either direction.

Cutler, using the shortwave radio, gave the order to close the trap, as the Mercedes van approached the roadblock.

Werner was more surprised than alarmed when he saw the roadblock taking shape with only one car between him and the blockade. Werner was driving and reactively slammed on his breaks and skidded sidewards on the steep incline. Vlad, named after Vlad the Impaler, a name he revelled in, had an outstanding warrant against him for kicking to death a Turkish immigrant in Berlin. He was not so ready to comply with the commands to exit the vehicle.

Werner was as surprised as anyone to see the Benelli M4 Super 90 12-gauge semi-automatic shotgun. Vlad had adored the Benelli at first sight. The gun lacked the traditional solid fixed stock and had a collapsible buttstock and was widely used in the US Marine Corps, favourite with the Navy Seals. The gun was robust, and the action was reliable and quick, and Vlad was just about to test it again.

“Dummkopf!” Werner shouted and attempted to grab the gun, as Vlad began to exit the passenger door, with the weapon rising to its firing position.

Too late. The snipers perched on the rocks above the roadblock and those hidden amongst the tree had unobstructed views through their telescopic sights. The leader gave one click on the microphone, which was heard in every sniper’s headset, it was the order to open fire. It was seconds before the policemen at the roadblock could react.

A hail of bullets cut Vlad almost in half. He thought himself immortal and had survived several battles against other gangs, and once before with the police. But unfortunately for Vlad, this specialized squad had trained with the GSG9 German special forces, and the training had been comprehensive and drilled time and time again into the members of the unit.

Cutler got to the vehicle after the commander had issued the order to stop firing. He opened the door, and Werner fell out of the driver’s seat into Cutler’s arms. Cutler lowered him to the ground. Werner was struggling to breathe as air and blood escaped through the gaping hole in his throat. He had been hit by a single bullet that had entered the driver’s side window, passed through the side of his neck, through his windpipe, and out the other side of his neck before exiting the rear side panel of the Mercedes van.

Cutler considered and assessed the scene before him and could immediately see that if he did not act quickly, Werner would not be around for the trial. Cutler moved over to Vlad laying in the middle of the road and proceeded to rip the shirt from the half-severed torso. Although the shirt was blood-soaked, Cutler’s last thought was cross-contaminating Werner with Vlad’s blood. Cutler was willing to help him, but there were limits to that help and he was not about to use his own shirt. He wrapped the blood-infused rag around Werner’s throat, trying to stem the blood. The German snipers looked on impassively, wondering why the American was trying to save this scumbag’s life.

Gasping and gurgling Werner could not get the words out. He knew off Cutler’s interest in his operation. He had set in motion events which would no doubt see Cutler return home. He had not expected Cutler to act so quickly. Werner last thought before he lost conscious had been was his misjudgement on how far the investigation had advanced.

Within minutes, the air filled with the noise of sirens. Police cars and ambulances arrived from the temporary police base at Berchtesgaden.

The first helicopter to move off was the air ambulance. Werner had been transferred on a stretcher into the interior, and as it took off, he had several paramedics working on him, trying to save his life.

After the initial onslaught of police cars, officers, and paramedics, the commandant identified where Cutler was and approached him.

“Herr Cutler, thank you for your assistance with this successful operation. Both our governments will be pleased with the outcome.”

The commandant continued, “I have received instructions that you are to go in the helicopter immediately to Munich. It will land near the American consulate; you have been summoned.” Cutler looked a little bemused as the commandant steered him towards the Puma helicopter.

After a twenty-five minute flight through the alpine foothills and skirting Chiemsee, a large lake on the main route to Munich, the helicopter landed in the nearest green space, which happened to be Hofgarten. The local police had secured the landing area and removed the children that minutes before had been playing there. The vast green flat area was accessible to the Puma helicopter. The children laughed and swayed exaggeratedly as