Tested by Fire by David Costa (the little red hen read aloud TXT) 📗

battle with the infidel. As he did so, he called on his God, ‘Allahu akkbar, Allahu akkbar.’

SAS soldiers trained for such a situation: don’t stop, keep fighting until it’s over. The second soldier and Middleton, who had joined him, rushed through the door with rifles raised and they both fired at the rising Waheed hitting him twenty times and throwing him back against the wall before he fell forward onto the shredded bed. The wall behind him covered with blood and mixing with the cement and bone sticking to the bullet holes that peppered the wallpaper.

The SAS men checked their downed comrade confirming the worst.

There is a collapsible Clock Tower which is assembled on special occasions on the Parade Ground at the headquarters base nicknamed the Head-Shed by SAS operators but known the world over as the Hereford base of 22nd SAS Regiment or Stirling Lines after the regiments founder David Sterling. The Clock Tower also bears the names of every SAS soldier killed in action. Soldiers of the regiment who survive such operations call it beating the clock. Unfortunately, on this occasion another name would be added to the Clock Tower list.

Rolling the body of the terrorist over to take a photo of his face as they did with all such enemies, Middleton noticed the dead man was smiling through teeth that had a wide gap.

Middleton’s voice came across the airwaves once more. Jim Broad listened with intent. ‘Alpha Control, house secure, two enemy and one friendly KIA, bring in a cordon.’

It was Broad who answered. ‘Roger, Tango One, will do. Sorry to hear you’ve lost a friend. Return here as soon as you can for a debrief and reassignment.’

‘Roger, Alpha Control, on our way.’

On the command from Broad, via the Gold Command in Manchester, the emergency services moved in to secure the house and the street.

The residents had been wakened by the explosion and the confusion that came from such a rude awakening. The troop Transit and Jeeps moved to the end of the street and Middleton and his men  having lifted two mobile phones and the few documents they could find were quickly picked up and driven out of the Kings Road and Irlam back to the hanger.

As the police, fire, and ambulance crews moved in to surround the target house and seal off the street, GCHQ, on the instructions from Broad, froze the phone, Internet, and mobile signals within a quarter of a mile of the street.

Gold command would, when asked to, release the agreed press release of a suspected gas explosion and the area would be sealed off until a full check of the area had been made.

Broad sat in on the de-brief of the assault team when they returned then phoned Sir Ian Fraser to brief him.

 

 

Chapter Sixty-two

‘What happens now, Jim?’ asked Sir Ian.

‘From the weapons and explosives used by the two at the house in Irlam, we can expect the rest of these people to be similarly armed, so we take no chances. We hit them hard, if they want to come peacefully they’d better put their hands up quickly. We’ve been trying to contact the building society people and the building’s caretaker without success. There’s a company number with offices opening at 9 a.m. we will chase both. The caretaker comes on duty at 8 a.m. so we’ll be there to talk to him when he arrives. Reece and his team have the building under close surveillance and the police are moving in a cordon as we speak.’

‘Thank you, Jim, I’ll update the PM and Martyn Bryant. My feelings are that this won’t end well, but we all knew why the Department was set up, so let’s get on with it.’

‘The next few hours will tell a tale. I’ll be letting Reece know after this call to get in there and sort it.’

The Prime Minister was an early riser even though he’d been awake to past three in the morning working on his Conference speech. Now sitting in his suite with Bryant and Sir Ian he was quickly taking on-board the latest update from C, his head of Her Majesty’s Secret Service. Although he’d been expecting the operation to come to a head, now that it was here, he still felt some unease in his stomach. He’d experienced this feeling many times before when he knew people would be looking at him for the leadership he’d so strongly desired all his political life. The decision had been made, the operation had started, and one of the reasons he’d been up so late working on his speech, was that he had to work on a different opening which would encompass the resulting deaths and what it would mean for the war on terrorism, the future of the country, and the type of politics he’d put in motion when agreeing to the formation of the Department SG9.

‘All right, let’s get on top of this, Sir Ian. When will your people move in?’

‘We hope to have the details of which apartment the terrorists are in just after 8 a.m. We’ll be moving in shortly after that. Now that the SAS are finished in Irlam, they’re back at Barton being debriefed and reassigned to the apartments. In the meantime, SG9 have the building under surveillance and Gold Command are moving a police cordon in to secure the access to the area once our people move in.’

Throughout the briefing, Sir Martyn Bryant had said nothing. Now he spoke, giving both the PM and Sir Ian a chance to drink what was now a cold coffee.

‘And you’re happy we have the communications in Irlam screwed down so that the terrorists in the apartments have no idea their friends have already gone?’

‘As much as we can. The media are only getting a small gas explosion briefing at the moment. Of course, we can’t be