Out of the Shadows (Akira and Deane Thriller Series Book 1) (15 page)

Akira moved to the side of the
window and studied the fearsome faces of the Kiprich twins. As he
gazed outwards to the chaotic gun battle below, he focused on Agent
Deane and his young partner who was now by the truck and firing
from a crouched position. ‘The detonator?’ He asked quietly.

Jozef tried the device again
but still failed to see the truck explode.

Akira gritted
his teeth and adjusted his robe. Once again Deane was proving his
worth to the West and still he would not lie down and die. He could
hear Madeline giving him more ideas and encouragement but at that
moment even her sweet voice couldn’t stem his disappointment. ‘Keep
trying. Get down there yourself and kill that man if you have to. I
will meet you at our agreed location.’ He locked his eyes on the
two men ahead of him. ‘Do not be late.’ With that, Akira made his
way to the door and was already on his way to the Trucial Coast.
One day he would see his wish come true, it would just take more
time and more meticulous planning.

Chapter 11

Sunday, March 4
^th
18:30,

Muscat, Oman.

Olsen dropped to the road surface and
continued firing at the remaining attackers at the far end of the
street. Throughout the havoc, he had only just noticed that all the
locals had fled the scene and three of the Royal party’s security
contingent had been killed during the surprise attack. As he got
up, he lifted the boot of the vehicle, revealing a complex display
of wires leading to what was unmistakably a large amount of plastic
explosive. Olsen shook his head as he realised the only reason he
hadn’t been blown to pieces together with the rest of the street
was because of his gamble and the scrambled phone. Despite his
victory, he knew all too well that the car was still a massive
target. Any reckless gunfire might trigger the detonation
mechanism. He shut the boot and moved round to the side of the
truck as the rear window smashed under another attack.

Two more
Government agents could be seen to have perished under fire as
Olsen screamed into his radio. ‘Tom! We have to protect this
vehicle at all costs! It’s red hot with explosives, liable to blow
unless we take care of these attackers! Do you copy?’

Deane, who had
tucked himself neatly behind the stone wall of the embassy for
cover, changed the magazine of his Spitfire pistol and continued
firing. With the Prince now safely back inside the Embassy, his
goal was to deal with the remaining danger quickly. His partner’s
voice came over the radio. Deane took cover again and looked back,
seeing his friend in trouble as he knelt down next to the truck.
‘On my way! Just hold on!’ Deane jumped over the wall and rushed to
his partner’s aide, firing backwards as he went. As he reached the
truck, they exchanged a look. Any troubles, conflicts or
differences of opinion were forgotten as the two stood shoulder to
shoulder. United in their attack, both agents fired their weapons
and engaged the remaining attackers as the rest retreated towards
the town. As the last target fell, Deane attempted to gain control
of his breathing and his composure.

Near the truck,
one of the attackers was lying on the road with serious injuries;
he would not survive the day. Olsen ran to him and had virtually no
control of his temper, which came surging to the surface. He
dragged him closer to the vehicle, despite his serious injuries,
and lifted him up, holding onto both sides of his shirt. ‘Who sent
you?! Answer me!’ He screamed.

The terrorist didn’t answer,
just smiled at his attacker. As he gave his last breath, he
murmured several words. ‘Trucial coast….trucial coast.’

Olsen dropped the body to the
floor and looked back from the truck at the bodies of the lost
agents, in confusion over what he had just been told. ‘What’s
Trucial coast?’

Deane had
watched the scene from nearby and felt concern for his young
partner’s temperament.
I thought he would
lose that temper with time…
Putting the
thought aside, he addressed Olsen. ‘Trucial Coast is an old term
for United Arab Emirates. We’ll deal with that later.’ His blue
eyes locked onto his partner. ‘You want to tell me why this truck
was so important to you?’

Olsen looked
around one more time, put away his firearm and raised the bonnet of
the boot, revealing the complex explosive device. ‘I didn’t really
have a choice.’

Deane’s hands
were on his hips as he shook his head, wondering not only about his
partner’s temperament but also why neither he nor his close contact
Saheed had detected any of these events. ‘You didn’t know that was
there! You took a thoughtless gamble and left the Prince
vulnerable. He could be dead now if it wasn’t for the other agents;
some of whom paid with their lives, I might add!’

‘You really
want to know? It was you, Tom. You always taught me to be 100% sure
of what I was getting myself into and believe it or not, I was.
From what I saw, I knew this truck was a danger and I had no choice
but to leave the party and get over here. You would have done the
same, don’t tell me-’

Deane raised
his hands in protest. ‘No! The outcome would be the same but I
wouldn’t have left the Prince vulnerable. You took a huge gamble.
This truck could have been no threat and those agents would be dead
for nothing.’ Deane stepped closer to his partner. ‘You’re lucky
this device will cover your actions! You never learnt that from
me!’

Jozef swore in
Hungarian and tried to detonate the explosives one more time.
Despite his efforts, the beautiful explosion he was so desperate to
see didn’t come. The frustration boiled over inside him as he threw
the device at the wall. Breathing hard, he looked at his brother.
‘Get everything together. We are leaving. Now!’

Gyorgy looked
out the nearby window and could still see some of his men running
through the town, with MI6 agents in pursuit. ‘What about our men
down there? We can’t just leave them; if we are to continue our
work we will need-’

Jozef made his
way to the door, picking up several bags on the way. ‘Forget about
them! We don’t have time to wait, our car is
downstairs.’

Gyorgy was still not convinced.
‘But Akira told us to-’

‘We leave this minute. I will
deal with Akira!’

Both men picked
up the small amounts of luggage and equipment they had and rushed
down the stairs to the waiting car below. Jozef refused to allow
himself time to think about the failure and focussed on both men’s
escape route through the nearby United Arab Emirates.

Deane turned
around as sirens caught his attention; several police cars mounted
the pavement and began to cover the entire area. Ambulances could
be seen approaching from the distance. He could see the officers
getting out of their vehicles but, before tackling them, he looked
back to his partner. Instead of his friend, only the truck was
behind him. Olsen was nowhere in sight.

Olsen sprinted
as fast as he could, willing himself on to reach the ringleaders in
time. Just seconds ago, he had spotted the two men leaving a small
block of flats some distance away from where the attack had taken
place.
The two leaders; they have to
be!
He jumped over several bodies and
spotted his mentors Land Rover. Olsen gritted his teeth as he saw
his partner’s vehicle penned in by the arriving police cars. As he
neared closer, one Police car pulled over and a gaunt looking
officer got out, speaking in fluent Arabic. Olsen summed up the
situation quickly, tossed the officer out of the way and got into
the car. With the engine still running, he floored the accelerator
and spun 180 degrees as he spotted the lead men getting into a
vehicle not far ahead.

Deane saw his
partner in the driver’s seat of the police car and started to run
towards the vehicle. ‘Sam!!! Get out of there now! Sam!’

Olsen saw his
partner in the rear-view mirror but made his decision and mounted
the pavement to avoid the final police car that was in his way. He
fiddled with the siren controls and couldn’t suppress a grin as it
came to life above him. The Toyota Corrolla was pushed to its
limits as he swerved the car around a tight corner.

Jozef heard the
sirens and looked back quickly. To his amazement, a smashed in
police car was in pursuit! Jozef screamed at his brother to push
the ageing white Mercedes harder as he loaded his pistol. Winding
down the window, he leaned out for a moment and fired off the six
shots from his Heckler and Koch 9mm pistol. Though with all the
movement, he was unable to find his target.

Olsen adjusted
his vision so not to look at the bullet holes in the windscreen and
floored the accelerator. The two-litre engine cried out as he urged
the vehicle on, catching up with the white Mercedes. In the small
amount of spare time Olsen had for hobbies, he was an expert on
cars. The classic 1970’s Mercedes model caught his eye as it sped
around a corner ahead. Olsen knew all too well the Toyota Corolla
police car would prove no match for the tank-like build of the
Mercedes, which was likely to cut through the Toyota like tin
foil
. I have to force it off the
road!
Olsen loosely fired off the remaining
bullets from his Beretta and watched in delight as the back window
of the Mercedes relented under fire and smashed into tiny
pieces.

Jozef raised
his hands to his face as the glass sprayed around him. He looked
around in time to see the driver of the police car take aim with a
silver pistol.

Olsen pulled
the trigger twice but only one bullet came from the chamber. He
swore to himself as he watched his shot impact the front window.
Olsen cursed again, dropped the Beretta to the floor and manoeuvred
the police car to one side. Once in position, he smashed the car
into the left side of the white Mercedes and did his best to force
them off the road.

Jozef gripped
what he could as the Mercedes buckled under the constant
collisions. He locked his eyes with the driver of the police car.
Jozef raised his eyebrows in shock as he realised that, instead of
an Omani Police officer, it was the MI6 agent from the harbour and
the recent attack that was trying to stop them. He saw an opening
coming up ahead and screamed at his brother to take the
turn.

Gyorgy turned
the car violently to the right as the Mercedes smashed its way
through the picnic area just off Al Qurm Heights Road. Several
bodies flashed over the car bonnet amidst the screams and shouts of
the innocent Omanis nearby.

Olsen gritted
his teeth, slowed down and followed the terrorists through the
Picnic area. Smoke was billowing from the Toyota’s engine but Olsen
changed into fourth gear and hoped it wouldn’t give way.

Jozef looked
back and screamed again as he saw the police car still in pursuit.
He grabbed the Heckler and Koch MP5 rifle from the backseat and
loaded the weapon. Without hesitation, he fired off 30 shots in
just ten seconds, spraying the police car’s windscreen with a
flurry of bullets.

Olsen ducked
down behind the steering wheel, took his foot off the accelerator
and prayed for some luck. The noise was deafening. Bullets blasted
the windscreen repeatedly. Most penetrated the window and ripped
through the front seats. When the attack ceased, he raised his head
and found it impossible to see through the damaged glass. As he
forced the Toyota to accelerate one more time he smashed his fist
into the remains of the window and forced enough away so he could
carry on for one more attack.

Burton turned
the steering wheel of his car and pulled into the driveway. Another
day at MI6 was over. He locked the vehicle and approached the door,
fumbling for the right key. As it swung open, his gruff voice
called out to his wife, loud enough for her to hear but not enough
for his son to be woken up. ‘Kate???’ All the lights in the house
were off. Burton paused and waited for a noise from
upstairs.

Silence.

Burton flicked
the light switch and saw a letter that was stuck on the kitchen
door. He felt puzzled initially, not knowing what it could be.
‘Maybe Kate’s gone off to see her sister…’ He mumbled. As he ripped
open the envelope, something fell to the ground, but he chose to
read the letter first. For a moment, he read the words, but the
information didn’t sink in, only patches. He started to repeat the
words aloud, feeling numb with shock. ‘Oh god….oh god, no…no trust?
Better for all of us?’ His eyes looked past the letter and there,
on the wooden floor, was the wedding ring he had so carefully
chosen all those years ago, for the woman he loved. Burton picked
it up and held it, his eyes welling up at the thought of what had
happened. One word came into his head straight away.
OSCAR!
Burton sprinted up
the stairs faster than his frame would appear to allow and smashed
into the young boy’s room. The cot was there but 15-month-old Oscar
was nowhere to be seen. He cried out in pain as he slumped against
the cot, dropping the letter and ring in the process. His mind
processed the information; his wife and son were gone. Burton
stared out into space, totally broken at the loss of his family. He
closed his eyes and began to cry, sobbing hard. His entire body was
wracked with guilt, despair and a lasting urge to turn the clock
back and redeem himself.

Olsen followed
the Mercedes into Fahud Street and just missed a young Omani family
on pushbikes. By now, the siren’s had long since been silenced by
another rifle attack. The engine was continuously crying out for
relief but Olsen was relentless in his attack. He was not stopping
until those in the car were either dead or in custody. ‘Come on,
come on!’ he shouted, as several more emergency lights lit up on
the dashboard display in front of him. He urged the Toyota on once
more and smashed the bonnet into the back of the car ahead. He
followed the target down another winding road and crushed the
police car straight into the back of the tank-like Mercedes once
more.