Authors: JT Brannan
STOP AT NOTHING: 'Mark Cole is Bond's US cousin mixed with the balls out action and killing edge of Jason Bourne' Parmenion Books (3 page)
Severin’s worst fears for Danko’s safety always occurred during the ‘transition’ phases of a journey, when the Russian President would have to move between vehicles and buildings and therefore be relatively exposed. It was the time of maximum vulnerability, and he hated it.
As the limousine slowed to a halt, his pulse was rising despite his many years of experience. But he had grown accustomed to the unpleasant feelings, and he was ready.
As soon as the vehicle stopped, Severin was out of the door and by the rear cabin, hand on the handle and eyes relentlessly scanning the crowd. There were over a hundred armed police, members of Sweden’s elite DFT unit, in addition to snipers with high-powered rifles on every rooftop in the area. In addition, every member of the press had had their credentials and their equipment thoroughly checked. But it never hurt to double check, and Severin couldn’t help but scan the nearest news crews.
He saw that a CNN team had pride of place, then Fox News, BBC, Moscow News, Russia Today, Sky News, Les Etoiles and Die Welt. Nothing out of the ordinary, except for a small movement from Beijing News on the other side of Bankkajen that caught his eye. An almost imperceptible shaking of the camera. Nerves? Or perhaps just the cold?
He sighed as he wondered if he really
was
becoming paranoid, then yanked open the passenger door, hand on his pistol, ready.
Jess Ireland watched Severin from her position behind the press barricade just fifty yards away.
What’s he waiting for?
, she wondered.
Just open the bloody door! Some of us have work to do!
Moments later, the door opened. The Foreign Secretary, Pyotr Vorstetin, climbed out of the vehicle, waved at the throngs of onlookers, and was immediately met by a police guard who ushered him towards the parliament house.
Severin slammed the door shut and moved carefully to the other side of the vehicle, eyes continuing to scan; taking in everything and missing nothing.
Severin’s hand touched the door handle.
Here we go
, Jill told herself.
This is it
.
‘Keep that camera steady Paul,’ she warned.
Paul grunted in response. The camera was rock steady.
Another drop of sweat found its way into Lung’s eye, but he didn’t even notice. Seen only by Lung, the laser beam shone brightly onto Danko’s chest as the man stepped out of his limousine, hands raised in greeting to the world’s press.
Although nervous, Lung nevertheless felt curiously detached as he depressed the switch that would send the signal to his comrades, the electronic impulse that would change the red ‘Stand By’ light to the green ‘Go’ light; a simple change of colour that would result in President Danko, his security detail, and his entire limousine being blown off the face of the earth.
Aboard the small yacht, chaos was running rampant. The Navy patrol boat was stationed just fifty metres off the yacht’s stern, and had been quickly joined by two more. Announcements had been made by loudspeaker, in both Swedish and English, demanding the surrender of the vessel.
These demands, on Chang’s order, were met immediately with a hail of defiant, deafening, automatic gunfire.
Fire was returned moments later by the Navy vessels, but being patrol vessels they were only lightly armed. When Chang escalated the situation by firing grenades at the boats, causing fire and explosions on the main decks of two of the craft, they reluctantly pulled back to a safe distance.
A victorious roar went up from the yacht’s crew, but was quickly silenced by Chang. ‘We’ve not won yet. They’re calling for reinforcements. We have to be on our guard.’
Chang’s words were validated only moments later, when the captain of the lead vessel announced that a naval destroyer was en route, and that this was their last chance to surrender before their yacht was blown out of the water.
Chang looked to the men standing motionless with their missile launchers, on the other side of the vessel, out of view of the patrol boats. He was nervous. A destroyer
could
blow his ship out of the water. Easily.
What’s taking the others so long?
he frantically wondered.
Where’s the green light? What are we going to –
But then he saw the glow of the tortuous red lights at last turn mercifully green, and couldn’t help but smile broadly and victoriously as the two SA-9 missiles streaked majestically into the air, on their way to an exact, laser-designated point just outside the gates of the parliament house.
On board the lead Navy patrol boat, Willie Larsson’s eyes went wide as he saw the twin streaks of fire shoot up from the far side of the yacht.
‘What in the name of - !’ He was caught mid-breath as he realized what had happened, a cold vice seeming to wrench suddenly around his heart.
He turned violently to his radio operator. ‘Get me Headquarters! Now!’ he yelled.
Danko was finally out of the vehicle now, Severin shadowing him closely. Only a few metres away from the grand entrance, and he would finally be able to relax as Danko’s security was handed over to the Swedish DFT agents within the building. They had offered to escort him from the car, but Severin wanted to escort him as far as he could himself; it wasn’t that he was distrustful, just that he considered himself the best.
It was going to be okay, he told himself. It was going to be just fine. His fingers even relaxed ever so slightly in their position over his concealed weapon.
But then a flurry of activity caused him to reflexively tighten his grip. Swedish security personnel all around the area suddenly all had their hands to their earpieces, their eyes going wide after a few moments of listening. Soon after, they were all leaping into action; some racing towards the press, others towards Danko and Severin. The gestures were universal –
get down!
Severin instinctively pushed Danko to the floor, weapon out and levelled, scanning the area from one side to the other.
Chaos began to ensue, but within less than a second all activity stopped, as a huge, horrendous, apocalyptic shriek was heard from above and all eyes turned skyward.
Cameras turned skyward too, and Paul Churchill’s was one of the first; his reactions sufficient to operate effectively without any prompting from his team leader, who was staring upwards, mouth agape but, for once, with no sound coming out.
Behind the lens, Paul’s mouth dropped open as well as he saw two jagged streaks of light arcing their way out of the sky, aimed – where?
Realization dawned only an instant before the missiles struck.
Covering his president, forcing him back towards the armoured cover of the limousine, Severin didn’t see the impact. He felt it though, and was rocked forcibly as the far side of the vehicle absorbed the shockwave, the inch-thick armoured glass exploding above his head and showering him with shredded particles.
He regained his composure more quickly than most men would, and raised his head to check out the impact zone. Curiously, the missiles had not hit the limousine, or even the Riksdagshuset. Instead they had obliterated, completely and totally, the entire CNN news crew that he had observed earlier behind the press barricade. All that remained was a huge, smoking double crater, whilst bodies from the neighbouring news crews lay strewn everywhere; some dead, some unconscious, some groaning in pain, limbs torn from their bodies.
But Danko was alive. And Severin was going to keep him that way.
Kang couldn’t believe his eyes.
What had happened?
He looked accusingly at Lung, who looked back with equal surprise.
‘It was right on his chest!’ Lung exclaimed defensively.
Kang considered matters. His controller had assured him that there would be no equipment malfunctions; everything was state-of-the-art and had been fully tested. But the reasons were of no consequence now – his mission parameters specifically stipulated that success could only be achieved with the death of Danko. And the rewards promised to him and his team would only be forthcoming if the mission was a success.
As security personnel started to regain their senses and rush to the scene of the explosion, whilst others ran from the Riksdagshuset to protect Danko, and still others continued to reel in confusion, Kang managed to regain his own composure.
He turned to his men. ‘Go!’ he shouted, with an authority that they could not defy.
As soon as the missiles had been fired, Chang ordered the yacht’s pilot to fully engage the 1200 horsepower engines and head down the Lilla Värtan at full speed.
Within two minutes they had left the three patrol boats trailing in their wake, speeding through the icy waterway towards their emergency rendezvous.
Chang looked from the stern at the Navy vessels left behind and allowed himself a moment’s relaxation. But as he looked towards the bow, his heart began to race violently once again.
The Shevin with which they had been threatened began to emerge from the white gloom ahead, turning port-side on to block their path through the narrow inlet, its 55mm guns tracking towards the yacht.
A booming command from the captain of the ship telling them to surrender gave Chang only momentary pause. Chang could not surrender. The mission called for no such action.
‘Increase speed,’ he ordered the pilot.
The man behind the wheel looked at his commander incredulously. ‘But’ – a raise of Chang’s hand cut him off immediately.
‘Your family will be looked after. That is all that matters.’
The yacht’s pilot nodded his head in resignation, his hand pulling back on the throttles to engage full power.
Willie Larsson and his crew saw the explosion from over a kilometre away. Looking though his binoculars, he could see the smouldering wreckage of the small yacht, blown apart by the huge guns of the destroyer just a hundred metres before its suicide run would have resulted in a fatal collision.
As he surveyed the ruins, Larsson reflected that it was unfortunate they had lost such a valuable source of intelligence; dead men could not be questioned.
Severin watched the five men of Beijing News leap the press barricade on the opposite side of Bankkajen with disbelief.
They discarded their equipment as they sprinted across the road, semi-automatic pistols appearing in their hands like some sort of magician’s parlour trick. Severin pressed Danko down further into the ice and snow, as half a dozen Riksdagshuset security men opened fire at the approaching Chinese team.
Lung was hit straight away and went down only yards from the barricade. The remaining four men started to get closer to the limousine, operating in two-man fire teams and covering the open space in bounds; one pair kneeling to provide covering fire as the other pair advanced a few more yards before themselves kneeling to give covering fire of their own.
The effective tactic kept Severin and the others pinned down, and the smoke from the missile impact that still lingered over the area ensured that the rooftop snipers were rendered completely ineffective.
One of the security men made a lucky shot, catching one of the advancing pair in the chest, but four of his team were down. When he and the other remaining agent started dragging their downed team mates to safety, Severin was left momentarily alone with Danko, the wrecked limousine the only thing separating them from the remaining three assassins.
The odds were improved moments later as the smoke cleared briefly, giving two of the snipers a clear shot at one of the men. The 1000-grain .50in bullets from the massive Barrett rifles arrived simultaneously from two different angles, exploding the Chinese soldier’s head in a vivid scarlet spray. But then the smoke moved across the devastated scene once again, leaving the snipers powerless; and the remaining two Chinese agents continued to close in on the car in a pincer movement, one to each side.
Severin watched them approach from his position under the car, seeing the two pairs of legs getting steadily closer. He knew the snipers were helpless, and the situation too confused and chaotic to expect help from the other security personnel in the scant seconds left before the killers were on top of them.
Knowing instinctively the truism that action always beats reaction, Severin decided to take the initiative.
‘Keep down until I say, then run directly for the entrance,’ he whispered in Danko’s ear. The Russian President simply nodded.
Severin then immediately aimed his pistol underneath the car, firing four times at the legs of the man near the front of the limousine.
Kang cried out in pain as blood spurted from his broken tibias, and the fresh snow was crushed beneath him as he fell. Straining through the pain, he saw Danko sheltered on the ground on the opposite side of the heavy vehicle, and started to raise his pistol shakily towards the target.
Wasting no time after his first volley, Severin sprang up from the floor and aimed directly over the roof of the car. The two rounds he let loose struck the last agent directly in the forehead, a lethal ‘double tap’ that killed the man instantly.
‘Go!’ Severin shouted, and Danko was instantly up on his feet, sprinting for the door just as Kang started to squeeze his trigger.
Snow kicked up behind Danko’s feet as Kang’s bullets barely missed his hard-pumping legs. At the same time, Severin leapt at the limousine, diving across the roof and falling hard off the other side directly onto the prone body of Kang, the barrel of his pistol firm against the assassin’s head, their faces just inches apart.
As Severin felt Kang’s gun-arm twitch, he squeezed his own trigger, blowing the back of Kang’s head out onto the soft white snow in a crimson cloud.