The Yeoman: Crying Albion Series - Book 1 (13 page)

He picked up
Valerie from the ground and she stayed on her feet, albeit in an unsteady
fashion.

“There’s no time!
You have to trust us Valerie, we can’t stick around! You are wanted on
trumped-up charges and we have to move! We’ve a safe place and can guarantee
you won’t be harmed,” Weyland said holstering his baton.

By now
onlookers from the college were closing in and it was time to move.

“Enforcers!”
warned Knight.

Valerie
thought the ordeal was over when the sight of a blue-flashing light on an
unmarked vehicle appeared. The Ford Mondeo roared to a halt just outside the
building site. Warrant Officer Atkinson got out together with a much younger
man. Both were armed, Atkinson with a pistol and the unknown one with a
carbine. Both Yeoman agents dived for cover, Weyland close to Valerie and
Knight close to Nicola.

“SOTF!
Surrender!” the carbine gunmen had time to say before gunshots rang out back
and forth.

Weyland had a
slight advantage as both adversaries seemed overconfident. Atkinson went to
throw a stun canister but an uncanny pistol shot that missed his face fluked a
hit on the musty device. It exploded with choking smoke, enveloping him with a
loud, rushing
whoomph
, he went to the
floor in blinded pain. As he went down the other attacker opened fire again,
almost catching Weyland with a short burst of automatic fire. A bullet skimmed
his waist, ripping the light armor like paper. As he cowered behind a stacked
pallet Knight fired back unassailed and winged the police enforcer slightly.

As some more
gunfire went back and forth an unexpected sight passed them on the right and
they both noticed it was Jesse Young staggering like a zombie. Despite his
injuries he had roused himself from unconsciousness and blindly wandered to get
away from the terrible scene. There was a pause then two silver objects, one
after the other came hurtling over from the police car. They landed perilously
close to Young and the other group. Weyland had the presence of mind to flatten
to the ground completely. He held his hands to his ears, protecting his face
and head. Then both devices exploded, sending a strange, non-fragmentary
pressure wave that first reached the staggering gang-tough. He was dashed
violently into a chain link fence then swept to the ground, this time he could
not fend off unconsciousness. The brick-wounded ganger who’d been nearby was
likewise afflicted. Slightly further away was the main target of Weyland. His
low-profile, body armor and instincts paid off. He felt a ringing pass overhead
and a pressure-wave that tingled over his light body armor and fingers.

Knight was more
shielded from his solid pallet of breezeblocks but the two girls were not and
both fell unconscious from the weird effects of the shock-grenades.

Synel Shildz,
now moved in low and fast from the police car to finish off the Yeomanry. He
had orders to seize both women, regardless if it was before or after the gang
had had their way with them. He half-expected the opposition to be neutralized
from the pulse grenades, first he saw the black lad and another nearby, as his
weapon swept around to check the next area he almost had time to aim. The sights
of the MP5 almost aligned on a recovering Weyland who was groggily trying to
raise his pistol. Moments before the iron ring could affix on him a series of
shots from Knight thudded into him. For all Knights gung-ho talk, he was an
excellent combatant and shot nearly all his remaining shots into Shildz. A few
from Weyland followed and the trauma of the impacts sent the man to the ground.
He was out of sight, obscured by a large trailer and thirty yards away. More
police sirens could be heard approaching.

As Knight
reloaded Weyland set about picking up Valerie. “Let’s go!” Weyland said to him.

From the
vehicle vague movement could be discerned by Knight. He removed a small grenade
from his inside jacket pocket. Taking no chances the driven warrior pulled the
pin and hurled the explosive accurately towards the Interceptor vehicle. It
went far over Synel to land and roll deep underneath the pursuit vehicle.

“Grenade
out,” Knight had time to say before it detonated. Atkinson, barely coherent
from the intense effects of the stun grenade took the full force of the blast
as it ignited the petrol tank. The heavy machine momentarily lifted up
awkwardly as the deafening roar sounded across the area. The SOTF officer was
slain outright but aside from a few fragments of metal, Shildz was shielded
from the blast. He lay unmoving, seemingly unconscious as more reinforcements
from Birmingham neared the city.

Knight just
had enough time to holster his gun, lift Nicola up onto his shoulders and bear
her away, following on behind Weyland. His fitness and agility were such he’d
caught up Weyland. It was like this that the two girls were carried towards the
transport. Weyland narrating to the body camera he wore. In the upcoming
information war of the incident, video footage with audio commentary was
crucial to countering the hostile media forces.

At their
vehicle both the girls were loaded in, Valerie in the passenger seat, Nicola in
the rear along with Knight. By the time they’d moved off from the car park the
police were just arriving at the college and construction site. By the skin of
their teeth the Yeomen got clean away.

Before long
they’d reached the A-Roads and were only a short distance from a manned border-crossing
into Albion. The green hills and overlooking
Pennine
mountains were a reassuring sign and only then did both
men relax enough to talk casually.

“That was a
close one mate!” Weyland said with an intake of breath.

“I know, what
was that thing he threw? A stun grenade?”

“I don’t know
any stun grenade that can knock someone out as long as those girls have been. It
could be SOTF are getting their own brand of gear to match our own.”

“These batons
really are romper stomper Eric, I’ve never seen damage like it before.” Knight
said still in a buzz with his adrenaline.

“Aye they are
the business,” Weyland said, his mind was more concerned with the VIPs though.
“How are the girls doing?”

Knight
rechecked both girls. Nicola Woodvine had a cut to the forehead from her fall
but both were breathing evenly and their pulses were steady.

“Good as far
as life-signs, not so sure about their mental state though. We showed that gang
though didn’t we?”

“Yeah you had
to throw that mini-grenade eh?” Weyland said mostly in amazement and somewhat
in admonishment too.

“That was a
pursuit vehicle Eric, better it’s in pieces than on our arses mate.”

“Aye, but there was no need to
shoot Omar.”

“He was invader filth! He’d have
taken her then the other gang scum would have had their turn. Just like they
did with Neville’s sister. As it was he had a sledgehammer handy.”

I was gonna takedown him with my
baton, that way I could have wrung some more truth from him.”

“You wouldn’t have gotten much,
the cops weren’t far behind either. There was no time for extracting him. Hell,
dragging him four hundred yards, all the way to the car with the two girls? It
was crossing the line Eric.”

“I’d have done it on the spot,
thirty seconds and I’d have the low-down. Then he’d be liquidated, not before!”

Knight did not answer back but
instead stayed silent. Both didn’t say anything else for a few seconds.

“Alright listen,” Weyland said
calmly. “The Cadre Leaders are a new development. It sounds like Omar was a
sleeper agent or a vanguard of some sorts. Low-level thugs who target people
that don’t tow the government line. Send them into colleges, medium-sized businesses
to act as snoops, bullies and snitches. They can act with near impunity if the
state gives them a carte blanche.”

“That sounds like something
they’d get up to. Yet it just reinforces what a few of the Colonels are
saying.”

“What’s that then? The coming
civil war? I hope we avoid that.”

“Yeah but this is a race-war
when it comes down to their kind on this island Eric. You said yourself once
that Albion and Britain are like two masters. Both are part of an island big
enough for only one. The colonial folks are one thing, but millions more from
deepest Africa and Arabia are quite another.”

“Yes but Yeomanry Operatives
aren’t supposed to wage war like that during a ceasefire.”

“They were SOTF guys, you heard
them call it out.”

“True, but the dead invader
bodies will create a stir in the media,
again
.
I’m not blaming you really, I made the call to move in to stop the gang rape,
but there’s always consequences, even when good guys step in. You just have to
be ready for the debriefing once we get to Eagle branch.”

Knight stayed quiet as
realization dawned on him. For another score of minutes they drove on.

“It’s not all bad PR though,”
Weyland said after a time. “I had my body cam working, so it ought to vindicate
our work showing them acting like animals. We’ll see what the tech guys can do
and our own media folks can spin. At the end of the day we got Valerie who is
mostly unharmed I think. Her friend too if she wants to stay in Albion.”

“Speaking of which, that’s our
checkpoint coming up after this next bend.”

Weyland made contact with the
short-range radio and received specific entry instructions. Unlike previous
times he was given orders to travel five more miles south-east. “This is
strange,” Knight said thoughtfully, “normally we’re just waved through.”

“I think there were Ministry
cops waiting on this side of the border. Words out about us, or at least
Valerie.”

After they traveled distantly
parallel to the borderline of Albion a vague country lane led back northwards
to the border. They turned left and headed northwards.

At a small chain-link gateway
two Yeomanry Provost from a nearby Land Rover were waiting. They opened it for
them as they approached the safe-zone. Once through it Weyland powered his
window down to talk to them. One of them moved close to him and he recognized the
Provost as a Sergeant who normally garrisoned the Estates area.

“Raven Five and Crow Three. Operation
Retrieve. Two VIPs. One primary and secondary.”

“Confirmed. Good to see you back
Eric. The Colonel sent me to see you back in ok.”

“Much appreciated. Were the
enemy waiting at that border crossing for us?” Weyland asked jerking his thumb
in the direction of the main crossing-point.

“Waiting and then some. There’s
a load of Ministry guys pulling over everyone that’s trying to pass into
Albion. Times are changing now, the enemy is setting up counter-crossings
everywhere we have a manned crossing. Times will be harder for sneaky-beaky
work.”

“Maybe have to go with airborne
insertion and extraction in future times?”

“Maybe, or unmanned crossings in
remote areas like this. Glad you called in advance though, sometimes your lot
don’t bother.”

“Figured it was worth doing. Just
as well eh?”

“Any updates?” asked Knight.

“None, just head to the
Estates.”

Weyland put the car in gear as
the Provost told him directions to get onto the main road to the Estates from
where they were.

“Oh, and well done mate,” the
ally said. “We were taking bets on whether you’d bring back the VIP. Good to
see you made me some coin,” the Sergeant laughed. “Hey who is the other girl? I
thought it was just for one VIP?”

“Oh you know what he’s like,”
Weyland joked with a thumb at Knight, “He had to grab her mate for good
measure.”

“You greedy gits,” the Sergeant
laughed. “Safe travels Raven.”

They departed the area and the Land
Rover headed back towards the main crossing. They were about halfway to the
Estates when the first of the girls, Valerie began to stir.

“She’s pretty tasty your bird
mate,” Knight said with a lusty grin. It was a comment meant in good faith,
with no malice or ill-intention. Weyland’s lifted spirits of the mission finally
being over were soiled slightly by the words. While Knight was a bachelor and
would probably go about wooing one of the two girls after the debriefing. Weyland’s
heart was with another, and she was in the heart of darkness spying for the
Yeomanry.

“No mate, my woman’s in London, on
the whims of Colonel Seymour.”

“The sooner she’s back home with
us here the better,” the undercover soldier said.

“An oath on it.”

“That grenade I threw wasn’t
just because I was carried away you know?” Knight said.

“What do you mean?”

“That was SOTF, our worst
enemies.”

“True, but now we’ve slain a few
of their number they’ll be no mercy shown from them. Deep Eye Operatives will
be in for a horror show if captured by them now.”

Once they’d past beyond Albion’s
border the ring of steel that made up most of the borderlands gave way to the friendly
laissez-faire world of the heartlands. The citizenry walked with their heads
high and pride in their hearts. When had the people of the island last had this
within them wondered Weyland? His heart was gladdened by the sight yet partly
empty by Lorraine’s absence. Secretly he was praying in his heart that the
strange pact of old she had made would at least bring his love home to him. Yet
in his mind though he knew a terrible reckoning approached on the horizon with a
SOTF nemesis at the fountainhead.

Chapter
9

Gearson

When
the outlander arrived it was just another typical day at Heathrow Airport. The
man from overseas showed his passport to the customs official. It was a forged
Gibraltarian passport, and of an older design, making it a manual entry on
their systems. After a few routine questions the tall, red-bearded man smiled
slightly for his picture to be taken. The fake name on the red-colored passport
read ‘Cedric Bridleman.’

Unlike the majority of
those behind him in the queue, the one called Mr Bridleman was European. He had
a stature and demeanor that was old-school. His icy-gray eyes, straight-nose
and features were like a Spartan leader or one of Alexander the Great’s
generals. The build of him was lean yet muscular, like a man who stayed in
shape no matter where he was.

“What’s your duration
of stay here Mr Bridleman?” the custom’s man droned with practiced repetition.

“Just a month.”

“You have relations
here?”

“Distant ones, I hope
to rekindle new ties to old family friends.

“What is it you do for
a living?”

“I’m a freelance
advisor, people call upon me to help out if their company or organization is in
trouble. I advise and provide solutions.”

The official glanced
at the man. His bearing was like an officer or VIP, gray eyes showed vigor and
capability but his demeanor seemed warm and friendly. The effect discouraged
any further inquiries. Even if the official wanted to question him further the
new policy from the Home Office forbade it. All travelers with a valid passport
were to be admitted unless major irregularities presented themselves. No visas
were necessary nor were they even issued by British embassies from overseas
nowadays.

“Welcome to the UK,”
the customs official said.

“Is it not called Albion
as well now?”

“Only in the north. The
Prime Speaker’s Parliament changed it back months ago. The only people still
using are Albion supporters in the north.”

“In the north?”
Bridleman asked curiously.

“There’s a travel
warning in place for some areas north of Birmingham. If I was you I’d steer
clear of it, unless you want to be arrested as a supporter of theirs?” the
security man warned.

“I see, just curious,”
Bridleman spoke gently, picking up his documents. “I’ll be in London for much
of my visit, thank you for your information.”

The customs official pushed
a button on his console, opening a set of swivel doors behind him and waved in
the next traveler waiting his turn. The official waited for the husband of an
African family to move over.

Without incident Bridleman
walked over to the doors. He’d barely cleared the entranceway when the swivel
doors slammed shut behind him.

Descending the
stairway he went down to the luggage-zone. Once there he picked up his two large
jumbo bags from the ultra-rapid carousel system. Both his bags were soft-style
luggage items with wheels and grip-handle. Inside it were several smaller cases.
Wheeling the luggage past the ‘Nothing to Declare’ section the armed police he
passed suspected nothing. Had they inspected the luggage they probably would
have found nothing untoward. Had they dug deeper though, the man calling
himself Cedric Bridleman would have been in a world of investigation. He wasn’t
from Gibraltar and nor were the cases anything to do with corporate solutions
either.

The entrance lobby at
arrivals was where Lorraine Riley, his contact and the Yeoman agent handler for
London, waited. She held a white sign with his passport name on it. Her once lovely
flaxen hair had darkened slightly to a pleasing mixture of brown and blonde.
This was nicely tied back showing a face of beauty that radiated warmth and
feeling. When relaxing or with her man she would let it down so it flowed
around pale features to below the shoulders. She had green eyes that were
bright and clear. A touch of gold at the pupil and a mildly predatory spacing
between them showed fire to her placidity. Lorraine’s figure was slightly curvy
and like an hourglass yet she was taller than most women being a couple inches
short of six feet tall. When the mystery man raised his hand she moved towards
him and they embraced each other with a passionate intensity.

Together they went outside.
It was gloomy and overcast, a typical autumn day in England.

His contact made the
opening password section.

“Bridleman to the
horse…” Riley said confidently.

“Horse to the meadow,”
completed the traveler.

“Welcome to Albion
Kallan Gearson!” the woman smiled.

Gearson knew she had a
man but couldn’t resist a subtle glance at the swell of her breasts. Riley had
a much more graceful purpose and it gave him the impression she was
subconsciously putting out a ‘come hither’ look. Eric Weyland was a lucky man
he thought passively.

After some
pleasantries and chit-chat they walked together towards Riley’s main travel
vehicle. Gearson was several inches taller than she was and he moved with an
ambling gait she struggled to keep up with.

“I wasn’t sure you’d
come, hey slow down a bit will you?” she said struggling to match his stride.

“It’s been a while,
but I managed to get away in time. I hope I’m not too late.”

“There’s still time,
the Colonels are not ready to escalate any conflict. Hopefully if an agreement
or purpose can be found they’ll be a stand-down from the killings and
false-flags. There’s a lot of shadow-play going on right now though.”

“Your man Weyland is
safe?” Gearson asked softly.

“He is, laying low in
the Estates last I heard. I still can’t believe the lies and hate the media is
showing. Even for them it’s a low-move.”

“That’s the way they
operate Lorraine, their goal is to destroy the ancestral people of this island
and elsewhere. All the while replacing them with the non-European hordes. If
slandering and lying about a Yeoman helps the job along they won’t bat an
eyelid.”

“By the Powers may we
prevail.”

“We may, but this area
of the island, perhaps even Albion may be a dream too far. You should hasten to
your man sooner rather than later.”

“I should be out of
the city next week all being well. It would have been sooner but my replacement
is still recovering from an injury.”

“Good, what about Ian,
the Colonel? I need to speak with him urgently,” Gearson asked, wondering if
his old friend was in the city.

“He’s here in London,
he traveled down for the annual proclamation. I have his lodging address.”

“Alright let’s go.”