Century of Jihad (24 page)

‘When we arrive, I want you to take one assault and one sniper team, I’ll take the other two teams. An armed local police officer will be accompanying each of us to act as guide. I want to make it clear – we are in charge. We’ll be given any further information on arrival.’

Above the noise of the helicopter’s engines, there was much banter amongst the team, tinged with that dark sense of humour to be found amongst military men heading into action. This was interspersed with personal thoughts. The adrenaline was flowing, the men were raring to go; the waiting to go into action was the worst part of any operation. Once contact with the opposition was made, personal fears would dissipate. That was generally the way it worked. The helicopters commenced descent, landing with a slight bump on the soft grass of the park.

The men immediately disembarked from the four light helicopters, rotor blades still spinning, creating a downdraft. The troop ran clear of the whirling blades, gathering around Captain Thomas.

The park was a hive of activity. Military and police personnel were rushing around, in and out of several mobile Police and Army Command Vehicles. Technicians were busy setting up communications equipment. Army and police vehicles were everywhere. A local police chief, accompanied by two police sergeants, each carrying a Heckler and Koch MP5K assault rifle, came over to join them. The senior officer addressing Captain Thomas, introduced himself.

‘Glad to see you and your men. I’m Superintendant Kevin Dales. We spoke while you were in the air. To keep things brief, there is no change. I understood from our conversation you intend a two-pronged assault. Let me introduce you to your police liaison. This is Sergeant Leo Brown and this is Sergeant Pete Whiley. Both are experienced firearms officers. They will give you any local knowledge you may require.’ The men shook hands with their new team mates.

General Ainsworth approached the group and greeted his men.

‘Good to see you, Matt. I’ll be watching over you and your men from the safety of the Command Post over there.’ He pointed in the direction of the mobile command vehicles.

Within twenty minutes of their arrival in Oxford, the SAS men and their police liaison were going through the police cordon into the killing zone that was the centre of the city. Captain Thomas and his men were coming in from the east of the city centre; Lieutenant Zaslawski from the west. They were in constant radio contact with each other and General Ainsworth in the local command centre alongside the police. This, it was hoped, would minimise the danger of a friendly fire, or blue-on-blue incident. The SAS men could hear the constant crack of gunfire, interspersed with explosions, coming from several parts of the city centre. The aerial picture, beamed from the police helicopter to the SAS men on their hand-held terminals, showed a city in the grip of an unimaginable horror. The terrorists had split up in order to wreak maximum chaos and carnage. The streets were littered with the dead. Blood literally ran in the gutters. Apart from the crack of gunfire and occasional explosion, all was now still. The only sign of life on the streets was the movement of the SAS troopers as they moved slowly, cautiously, from street to street, doorway to doorway, in search of their prey. The terrorists had taken cover in preparation for their final battle with what they perceived as the forces of darkness.

Captain Thomas’s team was the first to make contact. A shot rang out, sending the SAS men diving for cover. Another shot. It came from close by. The SAS moved cautiously in the direction of the gun blasts. The rattle of automatic fire rang out. One of the troopers caught sight of movement not far from their position. The team moved forward more rapidly than before. More shots came their way, ricocheting bullets whizzing past, pinging as they hit objects nearby. The SAS troopers could now identify the sources of the incoming fire. It came from two locations – shop doorways, fifty yards down the street on either side of the road. The men now had a target. Thomas instructed four men to make their way round the back of the terrorists’ locations, to ensure any escape route was closed off. Then they waited, taking aimed shots as a target presented itself. The troopers cautiously edged forward, closing on their quarry. More shots from both sides. The firefight was intensifying as the protagonists drew ever closer. A man leaned out from a doorway, a dark object in his hand which he hurled in the direction of the SAS troopers. A shot fired by one of the troopers rang out. The terrorist fell back under the impact of the bullet. The object landed in the middle of the road and exploded harmlessly. The SAS troopers edged forward. Incoming fire. Returning fire. More shots from the location of the remaining terrorist. Then silence. The team sent by Thomas to cut off any escape route had engaged the terrorist. He was no longer a threat.

While shots and explosions resounded across Oxford from both the city centre fire fight involving Captain Thomas’s unit and from the stand-off at the Royal Hotel, Lieutenant Steve Zaslawski’s squad had made their own contact with the enemy. Steve and his men were pinned down in shop doorways in Cornmarket Street, and the incoming and outgoing fire was, if anything, more intense here. Steve’s team had fired a number of smoke grenades to conceal their advance down the street towards where they had established two terrorists were concealed. One of the terrorists engaging them was firing from a doorway, the other was firing from the first floor of a pharmacy. Like his Captain, Steve instructed four of his men to make their way round the back of the two buildings where the terrorists were holed up, to cut off any escape route. Steve and the three remaining troopers, along with their police liaison, continued to edge their way down the street towards the concealed terrorists. It was slow progress. Steve’s plan was to fire a smoke grenade, then a quick dash to the next doorway. Every push bringing them closer to the concealed terrorists. Aimed shots were fired each time a terrorist exposed himself or, in the case of the gunman at the window, at the source of the gunfire. Steve couldn’t be sure that hostages had not been taken, or that innocent civilians were not hiding somewhere in the line of fire. This made his task more difficult than it might otherwise have been. They had trained for such a scenario.

The terrorist in the doorway peered out to take another shot. It was his last. He took a second too long to find a target and, just as he fired, a member of the advancing SAS squad took the opportunity and squeezed off a round. The bullet found its mark and the man dropped. Dead before he hit the ground. Steve and his men immediately ran forward. Confirming that the terrorist was dead, they entered the pharmacy. Once in the store they donned their respirators. They stealthily made their way among the stacked shelves approaching the stairs. Steve left two of his team and the police liaison officer on the ground floor. He and the remaining trooper slowly, cautiously, made their way up the stairs. Just as they got to the last few steps, Steve caught sight of movement to his right. He reacted instantly – squatting, turning and raising his weapon, all at the same time. A shot fired from the direction of the movement flew past, just missing his head. Steve fired a round at the concealed source of the incoming fire. There was a crash. Steve, covered by his colleague, rushed up the remaining stairs. There on the floor in front of him, facing upwards towards the ceiling, lay the prone, outstretched and twitching body of a young man in his early twenties, his eyes wide open. Glazed. His Kalashnikov lay at Steve’s feet. A pool of blood was spreading from underneath him. A wet crimson patch at the bullet’s point of entry. Steve commented to his colleague now standing at his side,

‘It looks like his mind is some other place.’

His colleague replied, ‘It looks like he’ll soon be joining it.’

The young man lay shivering. A cold chill was spreading through his body from the damp ground beneath him. The glare of the light distorting his vision. Standing above him he could just make out the figure of his sworn enemy, the devil himself. His muscles tensed, ready for the final conflict. All was silence. A silence broken by the sound of his mother’s voice in the distance:

‘Jamal. It’s time to come in now.’

The bright light grew stronger. Enveloping him, comforting him. His muscles relaxed. Then, as if a light had been switched off, all was black. The final breath of air gently exited Jamal’s body.

Steve Zaslawski looked down at the lifeless body of his enemy. He had no regrets at taking a life. It was necessary. But there was sadness at the waste.

Two terrorists, Kalashnikov assault rifles held casually, barrels pointing towards the ground, slowly made their way down the middle of the road towards the armed police cordon. The officer in charge shouted at the top of his voice:

‘Drop your weapons and lie face down on the ground!’

The two terrorists continued their advance. The police officer repeated his order:

‘Drop your weapons immediately or we will open fire!

The terrorists casually raised their weapons. Several shots rang out. The two terrorists fell to the ground. Police officers rushed forward, weapons trained on the crumpled figures. One of their number, checking the prone bodies, announced:

‘One of the bastards is alive!’

The other was no longer a threat.

As Captain Thomas and his men were exiting the killing zone, the three other troops of the SAS CT Squadron, along with bomb disposal personnel, were entering. They were about to conduct a sweep of the area for other terrorists or explosive devices. After they had completed their task, the civilian agencies would be allowed to enter to administer aid to members of the public caught up in the terrorist action and to commence the police investigation.

They were about halfway through their journey to Oxford, when Theo asked the question:

‘What’s eating you, lady?’

Lisa answered, somewhat unconvincingly, ‘Nothing.’

Theo, not satisfied with this answer, bravely decided to pursue his questioning.

‘Come on, Lisa. You can’t kid a kidder; something’s bothering you. Is the job getting to you? All this killing? It can’t be me, can it?’

‘No, Theo, it’s none of the above.’

A frustrated Theo came back, ‘Then what?’

‘If I tell you, I don’t want you to go blabbing to anybody else. It’s my problem and I have to get my head around it. Sort it out for myself. Do you understand, Theo? I know what you’re like.’

Theo, feigning indignation, continued. ‘Come on, girl, I’m the soul of discretion.’

Lisa reluctantly relented. ‘The other day I was visiting my old station. A PC and a PCSO I know from there asked me how my brother was doing. You know how he’s in the Army out in Afghanistan? Well, the PC said that he hoped the brothers there sent him home in a body bag.’ Lisa was relieved she had told someone. Even if it was Theo.

Theo responded immediately, ‘What the hell? You’re kidding me, right?’

‘I’m not, Theo. That’s what the bastard said.’

Theo queried, ‘Have you told anyone yet?’

‘No, I haven’t. That’s what’s playing on my mind. I’m worried about the consequences if I say something.’

Theo asked, ‘What do you mean? Are you scared of those muppets? Do you think they’ll set Al Quaeda onto you or something?’

A frustrated Lisa responded, ‘No, Theo, I’m scared of the job’s reaction. They don’t like dealing with this sort of thing. There’s two of them. They’d probably say I’d made it up because I’m anti-Muslim or something. I’d be finished.’

Theo pushed the issue. ‘You’ve got to tell someone. It’s not on! Tell Ed. He’ll know what to do.’

‘Now you’re the one who’s kidding, Theo. Ed’s the last person I can go to with this. You know what he’s like. He’s always going on. He’ll start up about the lowering of standards to get more recruits from minority groups into the job.’

Theo didn’t understand. ‘I don’t find Ed racist. He’s OK with me.’

‘I know, Theo. He’s not really racist, but he’s got strong opinions on the way the job does things these days. You know. The way he sees things, the job and everything else is going to the dogs. He’s old school.’

Theo thought for a moment before responding to Lisa’s last comments. ‘I wouldn’t necessarily say he’s wrong in everything he says. What about telling Russ Ward?’ Theo smiled to himself as he made this suggestion.

‘Come on. He wouldn’t want to handle this. Thanks for listening, Theo. I’ll get my head round this somehow. It’ll be OK. Please don’t say anything to anybody. Promise?’

‘I promise. If you want to talk some more, I’m here. By the way, I was kidding about speaking to Russ Ward.’

‘Thanks, Theo.’

With that the rest of the journey was completed with only a few light-hearted comments about other drivers or about the scenery. Theo and Lisa had started to prepare their minds for the scene of carnage they were about to encounter.

On arrival in Oxford, Lisa and Theo reported immediately to the joint military/police command centre which had been set up in the city centre park to co-ordinate the counter terrorist operation. The police had now taken back control of operations from the military, and the post-incident operation was underway.

Ed and Stuart had been at the centre for several hours and had been present during the SAS operation to clear the city’s streets of the terrorist threat. The temporary command centre was abuzz; people coming and going. Ed approached his two subordinates.

‘Theo, Lisa, good to see you. Things are a lot quieter now than they were when Stuart and I first got here. Let me update you both. The SAS have cleared the city centre of the terrorist gunmen. But just to make sure, the military are carrying out a building-by-building search. They have deployed bomb disposal personnel to defuse any explosives the terrorists may have left behind. Civilian rescue and medical personnel are following in their wake, dealing with the dead and injured. The forensic and detection phase is about to begin. We are going to be here for some time, working with our old friend DCI Bill Day of the South East Counter Terrorism Unit (SECTU). He’s already taking a look around the scene. That’s where we’re going now, just to get a feel for the thing.’