Viper Boxed Set Books 1 & 2: VIPER

About the author:

David Baker was born in Scotland. After his schooling in the UK, he served an Apprenticeship in engineering, electronics and statistical analysis. He joined a British Police Force in 1982. He was injured in the line of duty and is now retired. ‘Viper’ & Viper 2 are is his first adult Novels.

Also available - ‘VIPER 3 - Bad Russian Blood

You can get in touch with David via his website www.davidbakerauthor.com or

Facebook; davidbakerauthor

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Acknowledgements

I would like to offer thanks, to K.H, for his advice and editing throughout the book. My wife, Leanne, eldest daughter, Charlie, for their helpful feedback and editing. To my youngest daughter, Ash for the constant supply of refreshments! To my eldest sister Julie for the final and exhausting editing. Steven Longfield’s input for the front cover and to all my friends, colleagues and family for their support.

Thanking Chris for his invaluable advice and helping me get the manuscript into shape for distribution and my publishers Topsail Charter.

VIPER Boxed Set

Two Complete Novels

VIPER

An Elite Black Operations Squad

VIPER 2

‘The Master of Tomorrow’s Spawn’

Copyright © David Baker 2013

All Rights Reserved

No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission.

A CIP catalogue record of the title is available from the British Library.

First Published in 2012 & 2013

by

Topsails Charter

Southampton

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents originate from the writer’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

Dedicated to Leanne, Charlie and Ashleigh,

Who have supported me all these years through my injuries.

Who I love and cherish very much. Thank You!

TABLE OF CONTENTS (click on title to go to book)

VIPER - AN ELITE ‘BLACK’ OPERATIONS SQUAD

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VIPER 2 - ‘The Master of Tomorrow’s Spawn’

VIPER

AN ELITE ‘BLACK’ OPERATIONS SQUAD.

Sanctioned Only by the Highest Authority in the Land

by David Baker

"Technology you are surprised at today

has probably been tried and tested

by the chosen few from yesteryear"

VIPER INVENTORY

Modified UAV

Barrett M107 .50 Calibre snipers rifle with suppressor

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L115 A3 snipers rifle with suppressor

Five-seveN’ pistol with suppressor & Laser

AK47

MP5 SD with suppressor

Mini Uzi with folding stocks & Micro mini Uzi

Crated RTG

VIPER

AN ELITE ‘BLACK’ OPERATIONS SQUAD

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Chapter 1

Early hours of the morning on Sunday 6th August in Cyprus, a beautiful and paradisiacal island, surrounded by the majestic blue Mediterranean Sea.  Nestled in between the ever-failing and unstable Middle East.

Secreted in a small lane, a black BMW car, one hundred metres away from the target property, in the Village of Kolossi, Southern Cyprus. Peter, Viper 1, nudged Helen, Viper 2 awake as she dozed in the passenger seat. We’ve got movement and talking in the house. Viper 2 perked up straight away rubbing her face with her hands. She listened to the noises and conversation being transmitted through her earpiece. She could hear the sound of buttons on a phone being pressed. "Viper 1, we’ve just monitored a text being transmitted from Abdulla’s mobile phone registered to a Mr G. Murphy of 25, Arch Makariou Avenue, Ayios Tychonas, Limassol. It reads, ‘Be ready at 1.35am. Will be outside, love you.  Abdulla x’. A reply has just been returned, ‘Okay see you outside but be quiet’," Nathan informed.

Thanks, Nate, we will advise, get me info on Murphy and anything about the address, instructed Viper 1.

Ten minutes later the three Arab males, Ameer, Abdulla and Hadad had dressed and got into Hadad’s vehicle, a dark grey Mitsubishi Galant. Ameer was driving with Hadad in the front passenger seat and Abdulla in the back.

Viper 1, sorry for the delay. We already have the info as the texting has been going on for weeks, but I needed to check something out. Murphy is a stinking rich American oil man worth millions, but leads a humble and quiet life in Cyprus so as not to draw attention. He lives there with his wife Jackie and fifteen year old daughter Jenny. The daughter is a grade ‘A’ student at her school. She has been texting Abdulla for weeks now since he and Hadad worked at the house laying paving stones around the pool. Re-checking the texts over the last couple of weeks, he’s promised to take her to a Syrian Club in Limassol, and that’s the reason she’s sneaking out with him tonight. There’s been nothing sexual that we’re aware of, just flirting. She’s smitten with him, informed Nathan.

Thanks, Nate. Redirect all the known mobiles and landlines in the property to you and await my further instructions. Peter was now ready, the adrenalin flowing.

Ameer drove the car steadily out of the village, heading in the direction of Limassol Town. Ameer’s eyes flicked from one mirror to the next, checking if they were being followed. Halfway to Jenny’s house he turned off the motorway and stopped in an alley down from a Bank of Cyprus building. He waited there for fifteen minutes, checking every vehicle that passed.

Little did he know that Viper1 and 2 were three miles behind as Nathan had redirected one of the spy satellites above Limassol with live images beamed to all that needed them.

Eventually, Ameer, happy they’d not been followed, carried on to Ayios Tychonas, directed by his brother Abdulla. They arrived outside the property at 1.25am. Two minutes later Jenny approached the car. She was smiling, happy to see Abdulla. She opened the rear door and got in, her hair flowing as she sat down.

Ameer drove off rapidly, flinging her into the back of the seat. Before she knew what was happening, Abdulla placed a hessian sack over her head and punched her square in the face.

Abdulla quickly moved her hands out of the way as she screamed and struggled and punched her again and again until she passed out.

The three laughed and joked about her falling in love with Abdulla, who pushed his chest out like a cockerel, proud of himself and his work.

Although the satellite couldn’t see the assault it was clearly heard via the bugging devices on their phones and in the car, each sickening punch, the screams and the comments from the Abdulla fan club. There was complete silence on the Vipers channel. Each one of them had the same thoughts transverse through their moral brains; they wanted to stop this right now.

They knew deep down that they had to sacrifice her to this ordeal in order to save thousands or even millions of other lives. It stuck in their throats and was getting harder to swallow.

Ameer drove along the highway towards the Larnaca District. After about four kilometres he turned off left, up a slip road and continued for a further ten minutes on a tarmac road. After turning right and driving a further two kilometres on a dusty track, he came to an open gate, and drove through.

As he swung the car into the yard, the lights of the car illuminated an old goat farm with many corrugated shantytown sheds. He pulled up outside the one nearest the gate.

He’d found this disused farm days ago on his trip from Northern Cyprus to Kolossi. He trusted no one else do the scouting. He knew there was not another building for miles. Perfect.

Get her inside and tape her up as we discussed. I will make the call, now go! Ameer screamed at the other two.

All three got out of the car leaving the engine running and the lights on. Abdulla and Hadad dragged Jenny’s limp body from the back seat and carried her into the shed.

Ameer pulled his mobile from his leather jacket pocket and dialled a number.

Hello, answered a soft drowsy female voice.

Ameer spoke clearly: I have your daughter. She will not be harmed if you do as you are told. Do not ring anyone; if you do we will kill her by chopping her head off. I will ring back in two minutes to speak to the man of the house. He closed the phone and smiled. He was going to ask for big money, as he knew the Murphys had it tucked away in the safe in the house. Young Jenny had been tricked into telling Abdulla all about the safe weeks ago, and that her father had stacks of money in it. 

The following two minutes in the Murphy house were turmoil. Jackie was hysterical and ran to her daughter’s room to find it empty. George Murphy followed after her trying to find out what had gone on, and who was on the telephone. Finally, after grabbing his wife by her upper arms and shaking, George began to understand the gravity of what she finally blurted out.

He sat her down on the bed beside him and cuddled her as she cried Jenny’s name. His mind was racing. Who could he contact; the police, the CID, who? He just wanted to shout and scream but held it together for the sake of his wife.

They both jumped as the mobile phone kicked into life in the bedroom. They stared at it for what seemed like an eternity. Then George lifted it up and pressed the green button, cleared his throat and placed the phone to his ear.

George Murphy, he spoke softly and clear.

I have your daughter here, Jenny isn’t it? She is alive at the moment. Ameer paused to let the comment sink in and continued, I want three hundred thousand dollars for her safe return. George tried to interject, saying he didn’t have the money to hand. Ameer stopped him: Wait! Do you want to speak to her?

George heard the sound of feet passing over loose gravel, a clanking and the sound of hinges whining and the further footsteps of his daughter’s kidnapper.

Ameer entered the shed. They had lit the two gas-fired lamps and Jenny had been sat on a white plastic chair in the middle of the room; her hands taped behind and to the back of the chair with duct tape, each of her legs taped to the two front legs of the chair. A strip torn off the hessian sack had been tied around her head, covering her eyes, and a piece of tape had been stuck over her mouth. She’d regained consciousness and was groaning, her head bent forward, with her chin resting on her chest. Tears were rolling down her cheeks and seeping from underneath the hessian blindfold.

Ameer approached her and ripped the tape off her mouth, removing some skin from her lower lip. Her yelp of pain was clearly heard by her father. He felt sick to the stomach.

Abdulla and Hadad were stood over her saying nothing, just sickly grins on their faces.

Ameer put his mobile to Jenny’s ear. It’s your father ... speak!

George could hear her breathing heavily, You okay, my little darling? his soft voice broke the silence.

Please help me, Daddy, I’m so scared, Jenny cried out in relief at hearing her father’s voice.

Ameer pulled the phone away and placed it against his mouth, whilst Abdulla gripped Jenny’s face and vigorously stuck a fresh piece of tape over her mouth as she tried to scream out.

Ameer continued, In two hours I will pass your house. You will come out and throw into the passenger window a plastic bag containing the money and you will contact no one. We are monitoring your phones and your house. I know you have the money, Jenny has told me. If you try to trick me I will kill your daughter by cutting off her head with a kitchen knife. You will be able to see it on the Internet and then I will post her head to you. Do you understand?

Yes, I do understand, please don’t hurt her; I will have your money ready in two hours.

The line went dead and George slumped forward, What’s happening? begged Jackie. Seconds later the phone rang again, and for a couple of moments he just stared at it. He picked it up and pressed the accept button expecting the kidnapper to be on the other end.

Mr George Murphy? This is Agent Daniels from the F.B.I. We are aware of what has happened to your daughter. We have agents already on the case. We wish two things from you, said Nathan in his broad American accent.

Thank god, where is she, is she alright? blurted George pacing around the bedroom.

Nathan continued, Please try to calm down. We wish you to do as the kidnappers have asked and pay them the money when and how they want you to. We do not need you to contact anyone else. Is that clear?

Yes, clear, but is she okay? Please help us. George couldn’t hold it together any longer. He was shaking, tears filling his eyes and rolling down his cheeks in a steady stream. Please help her, she’s my baby. Nathan heard in the background muffled crying coming from a distraught Jackie as she had buried her head in her hands.

Mr Murphy, she will be okay and we will get her back to you safe and well, but you both must understand that you have to act as if you have told no one and no one else knows. Have you spoken to anyone else yet? inquired Nathan, who already knew they hadn’t.

No, no, I haven’t. You’re the first.

No, interjected Nathan, we are the last.

Nathan gave George the false name Agent Lloyd Daniels and a mobile telephone number so they could contact him at any time, but was told in no uncertain terms that they would deal with it now and to trust them. He rang off.

George slowly put down the mobile, gathering his thoughts. He dropped onto the bed and stared into his wife’s tear-strewn eyes. That was the F.B.I. They told me to pay the money and tell no one. They will get her back safe and well.

Jackie listened in disbelief, her heart pounding. She was comforted by the fact that fellow countrymen were helping. George lifted himself off the bed knelt down on the floor beside his wife and hugged her. His mind was racing. Was it the F.B.I? How did they know? Why telephone so quick after the kidnappers? Was it the kidnappers checking if he would tell anyone? He got up and went to the computer and Googled the F.B.I. He found the number for the headquarters in Washington DC, and dialled it.

Nathan called out to Beryl in the Nerve Centre, It’s George Murphy dialling the F.B.I in Washington, it’s been diverted to you. Act as the operator and patch it through to me at my desk. I’m Agent Lloyd Daniels.

Hello, Federal Bureau of Investigation, how may I help you? said Beryl.

I want to speak to Agent Daniels please, said George.

I’m sorry, which department is he with? We have a lot of agents, sir, Beryl replied.

I don’t know what department. My daughter’s just bee... George stopped mid-sentence and thought quickly not to give anything away, I have his cell phone number. He read out the number.

Just checking, sir. Oh yes, Agent Lloyd Daniels, fifth floor, I will connect you now. Thank you for calling. George listened to the music on the other end until he heard the phone answered and a familiar voice, Agent Daniels, Nathan delivered. He spoke for a few minutes, asking Nathan about his daughter, but always got the same reply, She will be returned to you safe and well.

Viper 2 pulled the BMW into a lay-by about two kilometres from the goat farm. Nathan had directed them in as he watched the live transmission relayed via the satellite. He had explained the full layout of the farm and surrounding area and where all three targets and Jenny were. Peter turned on the live link button on his mobile and both he and Viper 2 studied the information transmitted onto the mini screen. They daren’t go any closer as it was a still night and noise travelled. Peter got out, opened the boot of the car and pulled out a black rucksack. He opened it and pulled out a black jumpsuit that had pockets on the breast and knees, similar to the flying suits of pilots. But this one had differences, the suit was made from a material that not only was shrapnel proof and stab proof, but had the ability to change colour like a chameleon to blend in with the environment.

He quickly undressed and put on the jumpsuit, with his favoured black Cat boots. He slung the rucksack onto his back, lifted out from the boot a long black canvas bag and slipped it over his left shoulder. He turned and looked at Viper 2 who was stood beside him. Okay, I’m ready, go and pick up the Godfathers and head back here. We’ll need them.

She gripped his right arm and squeezed; seconds later she got back into the car and drove slowly away with no lights on, just as they had approached.

Peter, now alone, knelt and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark and his natural night vision to kick in. He waited and listened, becoming attuned to his environment.

He set off in the direction of the goat farm, crossing dusty fields and climbing verges. The canvas bag was cumbersome and slowed him down, but a necessary piece of kit. As he climbed stone walls, sectioning off the area, the canvas bag had to go over them first. Then he would climb over, retrieve it and continue. At all times, Nathan was talking to Peter via his earpiece. He stopped as he was coming onto target, about four hundred metres ahead.

Viper 1, do I have a clear security line to the target? asked Peter.

All is okay. You’ll see the farm as soon as you go over that hill you are climbing. It’s directly ahead of you, down in a gully, three hundred and ninety eight metres to be precise, Nathan stated.

Peter crouched down, taking his rucksack off. He was sweating and started thinking that he was getting too old for this. He took out of the rucksack a water bottle and took a large swig. He crouched for some minutes, drinking and cooling down, listening to the surrounding noises. It was a black still night. The temperature had dropped, which suited him. He pulled out of his rucksack a black helmet.

Viper had been using these new helmets for about a year now. It could only be described as looking like a cross between Darth Vader’s helmet and the Imperial Guards in Star Wars. Peter lifted it onto his head, clipped it shut, and switched it on with voice command.

The inside lit up in a dim red glow as all the functions came live. This cutting-edge of technology helmet, superimposed infra-red, thermal imagery. It was data-linked, a range-finder, synthetic aperture radar for looking through smoke, clouds or haze. A link to the satellite for real-time imagery, all projected onto the inside of the visor.

It gave Peter a 360 degree view of the world around him, much like x-ray vision. All this worked from his retinal nerve impulses, and eye movements.

Peter reached the brow of the hill and lay down onto his belly. He crawled the last couple of metres until he overlooked the target. This was perfect to observe the farm. He located to his right a crop of bushes that he crawled into. He set up his OP (Observation Post) there, knowing he was well camouflaged. Peter unzipped the canvas bag whilst listening to the transmitted voices of Ameer, Abdulla and Hadad chatting, thanks to the phone bugs. Ameer had explained that they were to meet at the Ship Inn on Kyrenia Harbour. He would leave shortly to stake out the Murphy’s house just in case. Hidden out the back in another shed was a 125 Honda trail bike for them to use. They must be there no later than seven a.m. They were to use the Ledra Palace crossing over the border in Nicosia and to take a taxi to Kyrenia.

Peter could hear Jenny moaning in the background. Her moaning had annoyed Abdulla who was shouting and screaming at her to shut her bitchy noises or she would get another beating.

Peter lifted out from the canvas bag his favourite toy - the semi-automatic Barrett M107 .50 calibre sniper rifle. It was an awesome piece of kit with bullets 12 cm long capable of travelling at three times the speed of sound and could penetrate building blocks three feet thick and pierce armour plating.

He fitted the adapted tripod, thermal infrared weapon sights and the suppressor (silencer) and set it up on the ground. He lifted his visor and looked down the scope. He made a couple of adjustments and was happy with the set-up. He then fitted the automatic ballistic computer to the rifle’s battery-powered motor. The computer was able to adjust the trajectory, by analysing and calculating the air pressure, temperature, slant angle, elevation and wind speed. Once a programmed target had been inputted, the rifle followed it like a robot waiting for the command.

Peter watched as Ameer left the barn, got back into his car and drove off, heading to the Murphy’s residence. He observed the thermal images of the men inside the shed. He saw a figure approach Jenny whose body shape was easily distinguishable as she sat in agonising pain, taped to the chair.

Abdulla’s voice was quiet and leery as he spoke to Jenny, You American whore, you think you are so beautiful and sexy. He slapped her across the face with the back of his right hand. Jenny’s head whiplashed to the side.

Peter saw the cowardly slap on the thermal imager and quickly moved the sights onto the second image about ten metres away. He engaged the automatic target - Hadad was now the walking dead. The rifle silently mirrored Hadad’s movements as he moved around.

Peter replaced his visor, unclipped the safety button on his leg holster and removed his semi-automatic, Five-seveN’ pistol. This was a personal choice. It had slight modifications, no safety catch and a hair-trigger. The ammunition he used was 5.7mm pointed steel with an aluminium core. It provided good penetration, even through Kevlar and titanium vests. Fitted underneath the barrel was laser-aiming along with the torch adapter. He started down the hill towards the farm with the weapon at the ready in his right hand.

Jenny’s mind was in tatters with her agony. Her mouth was so dry and swollen that the blood from the slap gave her the moisture to swallow. Her head was pounding like she had never experienced. Her nose was obviously broken as she could hear the gristle grinding and there was a sharp stabbing pain shooting between her eyes and forehead. Her legs and arms were numb and she had severe pins and needles in her shoulder joints. They had forced her arms back against the cartilages, nearly popping them out of their sockets, to tape her up. She had gone past the crying stage and was like a wounded animal awaiting the next ordeal from its attacker.

Abdulla continued with his verbal abuse and she could smell the acrid stench of his body odour. She felt his spit ricochet off her face as he continued his torrent of swearing, and smelled his cigarette breath as he got closer to her and whispered in her ear, Let’s see how sexy you are.

Jenny heard Hadad’s footsteps come close to her. She heard them talking, but couldn’t understand the language. Then they burst out laughing.

Abdulla walked back to her and her T-shirt was savagely ripped off. She tried to struggle cry out but to no avail, the tape put paid to that.

A rough-skinned hand grabbed her left breast and squeezed it hard. He pinched her nipple hard between his forefinger and thumb and twisted it; the pain was excruciating.

Abdulla laughed and she heard a sound of a zip being pulled down. She froze and with heart racing, she heard Abdulla spit twice and then the sound of him masturbating next to her face. She could smell a foul dirty pungent odour and then his erect penis was being wiped over her cheeks and chin. She started to gag and retch, bringing up bile into her mouth and through her nose. Abdulla and Hadad were in fits of hysterics, as she struggled to breathe.

Peter arrived at the shed. He had heard the two males laughing and was dreading what he would see. He slowly rose from crouching and stuck a mini camera onto the window in the corner that gave a view of the inside of the ten metre square shed. The camera transmitted the images to Peter’s visor as he lowered his body again.

He squatted with his back to the shed wall, breathing heavy. His blood boiled, he could feel the surge of anger in his veins as he watched Abdulla carry out his perverted act on Jenny. Fuck the parameters we work with, fuck it, he thought to himself. He was livid and disgusted. He had just made his mind up to go in, when Viper 1, Gorda is in the air en-route to T’bilisi Airport in Georgia. We will pick him up with the UAV (unmanned aerial vehicle) on his arrival. Nathan’s voice - and he had timed it well. He had been viewing the images in the Nerve Centre, and knew Peter too well.

Peter acknowledged him.

Jenny had just managed to draw a breath by snorting the bile through her nose when she felt a splash of something warm hit her in the face to the sound of Abdulla moaning. She couldn’t cry anymore, and felt degraded and dirty. Her body stiffened as if it had gone into shock and she started to shake uncontrollably.

Viper 1, I have the Godfathers and we are in situ, observing the Murphy house. Ameer is on location and is in the my sights. I will advise, called in Viper 2.

Peter knew that Viper 2 would have Ameer truly in her gun sights should he try anything with George Murphy. The wait was on.

Viper 1, the second UAV team is up and running and the bird is in the holding pattern over the Murphy house and will stay with Ameer after the drop is made, Nathan said.

Peter was aware that the Godfathers, having flown into Akrotiri Military Base, would have brought the two UAVs on-site with them. No doubt the paperwork was submitted and sanctioned above anyone’s head on the base.

It was 4 a.m. when the next call was heard from Viper 2. Drops done, Murphy’s ok, back in the house and Ameer is mobile.

Peter breathed slowly and deliberately to calm the adrenalin buzz. He could see Abdulla and Hadad pacing the shed, awaiting news from Ameer.

The ringing of Abdulla’s mobile phone broke the silence. Peter took a deep breath and listened through his earpiece.

Abdulla answered it after two rings. Ameer was brief and to the point, Kill them both. See you at the North, Kyrenia Harbour. Don’t forget, at the Ship Inn, brother. He rang off.

Abdulla pulled from his inside jacket pocket a ten inch kitchen knife; walked over to Jenny and stood beside her. He grabbed her hair with his left hand and yanked her head back, exposing her young neck. He placed the razor-sharp knife against her skin. He started chanting in Arabic building himself up to slice through the neck with one forced slash. Hadad came over to watch.

Peter spoke, Target acquired, code 1.

As Abdulla looked up from Jenny towards Hadad, there was an almighty explosion in the shed. The bullet had been fired by the automatic rifle on Peter’s command, and the bullet drove through the bricks of the shed wall obliterating them, passing through like a hot knife in butter. The bullet found its target, Hadad, completely removing his head from his neck and blowing it into pieces. His headless body remained standing for a couple of seconds before it collapsed to the floor.

Abdulla ducked instinctively and brought his hands up with the knife to protect his head. He stared into the plumes of dust as it started to settle, trying to focus. Two metres away with the dust settling all around him stood Peter; his arms locked out in the firing position, his pistol pointed at Abdulla. Peter, at the time of the explosion caused by the .50 calibre bullet, was able to open the door and swiftly move into the shed.

Abdulla looked closely, squinting, trying to attain full focus, on the dark object stood in front of him. His eyes were getting wider and wider. His face drained; he looked like he had seen a ghost.

Standing in front of him was what must have looked like the Terminator from one of Arnold Schwarzenegger’s movies. Peter all in black with the black Darth Vader helmet in battle mode. All you could see were two piercing green eyes shining through the visor. Peter stayed silent.

He looked at Abdulla and noticed a dark patch appearing on his crutch area. He obviously had pissed himself through the shear fear of this creature in front of him.

Peter stood perfectly still; Abdulla seemed to come to his senses as his eyes narrowed, they told the whole story. His right arm holding the knife started to come down towards Jenny’s head. Abdulla hadn’t realized but inside Peter’s helmet the infrared beam was clearly visible to Peter and the dot was sitting firmly on Abdulla’s right bicep. Peter fired one shot that hit Abdulla in the required area. The bullet at this distance took Abdulla’s right arm off, shattering the muscle and bone at the top beside the shoulder joint. As Abdulla fell back, Peter fired a double-tap into his forehead. His body was forced back three metres from the power of the bullets, he dropped to the floor and lay lifeless. 

Jenny had her head tilted to one side, trying to listen, but her body was shaking so violently now, it was as if she had been immersed in freezing water.

Peter knelt down in front of her and placed his hand on her left knee, she instinctively tried to shift her leg but couldn’t. He spoke at the same time. It’s okay, Jenny. I’m a friend, they can’t hurt you anymore. He continued, I’m going to take off your blindfold and the tape from your mouth then untie you, okay?

Jenny nodded and seemed to visibly relax. In a soft voice Peter explained to her not to be shocked by his appearance, and that he’d been sent by her father to get her out. He turned off the battle mode on the helmet and the visor became clear, but not enough to show his face.

He removed the blindfold first, then slowly the gag. Then he took a knife from one of his pockets and started to cut the tape on her wrists. Her wrists were red raw where the tape had cut them. She winced as he tried to remove the tape from them. He felt so sorry for this fifteen-year-old girl.

Peter moved to the front of her again and knelt down; she was staring at the headless body of Hadad lying motionless on the floor.

She looked at Peter and burst out crying and instinctively threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. He squeezed back, giving her that feeling of decency and security again.

After a couple of minutes, Peter slowly and gently peeled her off him, and tried to get her to her feet. She stood up, supported by him, swaying from side to side, trying to get the feeling back into her legs. Then he helped her towards the door. 

After what seemed an eternity of channel silence, Peter’s earpiece came alive with Viper 2’s, voice: We’ll be with you in two minutes, Viper 1 and I’ve got your two Godfathers following, they are dying to see you.

Reaching the door, two sets of car lights lit up the place as they drove into the farmyard.

Viper 2 outside and awaiting Sires passenger, if you please.

Peter pushed open the corrugated metal door with his body, whilst supporting Jenny. They walked out into the open yard. He took deep breaths of the cool night air. He could see his BMW parked with the engine running and the lights on. Parked behind it, a Peugeot 407 hire car. He could see nobody in this vehicle but recognized Viper 2 sat in the driver’s seat of the BMW, wearing a baseball cap, hair tucked up inside, the cap pulled over her eyes.

He steadily walked Jenny to Viper 2’s car. He supported her with his left arm cradling the small of her back and opened the rear driver’s side door. Slowly Jenny swivelled around to face him; letting herself drop into the rear seat. He lifted her feet and placed them gently into the foot well. He removed a bottle of water from the driver’s seat pocket, opened the cap and handed it to Jenny.

Her throat and mouth were so dry and sticky. She took two deep gulps of the cool water; it felt like silk as she swilled it around her mouth and then swallowed. Jenny looked down at Peter as he knelt, waiting for her to finish the water. She tried to smile and Peter could see that she was in pain due to the swelling on her face Thank you, whoever you are. I owe my life to you, she uttered, between her bloodied front teeth. She kissed her right hand fingers and placed it on Peter’s left cheek.

You’re welcome, Jenny. Try to forget all this and live your life to the full. Good luck.

Peter stood up, closed the back door and the car sped off flicking gravel in every direction. He stood there watching the car lights getting smaller in the distance.

Clean-up time then, Pete, is it?

He turned and saw his two Godfathers walking out of the shadows. A sense of relief came over him. He felt his bottom jaw start to tremor. He had been so hyped on adrenaline that as he was coming down like a druggie coming off a fix.

Biffo looked at him recognizing the signs and laughed, If you start blubbering we’ll have to give you a good kicking, what do you think, Rhino?

You couldn’t kick your way out of a wet paper bag, you old pensioner, retorted his old sparring buddy. Peter started to laugh out aloud. He looked at the two Godfathers still squabbling. You pair of old fuckers should be married; you argue like a couple married for thirty years.

Rhino laughed. Fucker can’t count to thirty. The two walked off, pushing and shoving each other towards the shed. Peter, smiling to himself, set off up the hill to retrieve the rifle and equipment.

********

Have you arranged everything at the Murphy house, Nate? called in Viper 2 as she drove at speed along the highway towards Limassol.

Yes, a doctor and nurse from the base with all their gadgets and equipment are arriving at the address as we speak. They’ve been briefed, usual format, Black Ops, no questions and no blabbing else they lose their jobs etc.  We’ve used the doc before, he’s spot on. He knows that he’ll get a big fat bonus at the end of the month, and no doubt he’ll use this info and his charm to influence his nurse. I’ve just been speaking to the Murphys. They’re beside themselves with gratitude, and have been told that they are never to repeat this to anyone. Mr Murphy has my number to contact me if he has any questions. He’s been instructed that it’s a terrorist cell we’ve been investigating for the past year, and that loose talk could blow the operation and jeopardize him and his family again, if he mentions it. It’s all running to plan. How’s Jenny? Nate relayed.

She’s a bit of a mess to be honest, but she’ll be okay, won’t you Jenny? Viper 2 was looking in the rear view mirror. Jenny looked up and made eye contact in the mirror and saw the friendly face of Viper 2 smiling at her. You’re ok, Jenny, aren’t you? Us girls are strong, aren’t we? Viper 2 winked at her, and Jenny tried to smile, holding her hand to her swollen face.

Peter, having retrieved his equipment, came walking down the hill towards the shed and saw Biffo and Rhino carrying out a black body bag that looked heavy. It’s time you lot cleaned up after yourselves for a change; we’re like your personal maid service, shouted Biffo. They loaded the bag into the boot of the Peugeot. Peter walked past and glanced inside. He could see that they had lined the boot with extra industrial plastic sheeting. The two body bags lay awkwardly on top of each other.

Peter felt no remorse; he didn’t feel anything. It came with the territory. He went into the shed. The two Godfathers were busy with pump-spray canisters using a chemical spray. It was a concoction of all sorts, but had the same effect as a powerful acid. They had cleared all the body remains into the bags and the spray was dissolving everything else, so that no trace of the night’s events would ever be found.

Can’t find the bullet from your rifle, Pete, it went out the other side of the building and it’s buried somewhere in the manure dump out the back. We found the other three from your sidearm embedded in the wall over there. Biffo nodded to the wall behind. Peter wasn’t worried about the missing bullet. Inside the core was a small cartridge that on impact shattered and released nitric acid. This dissolved the bullet within hours so there would be no trace.

Cleaning up took about thirty-five minutes until all three were happy with their housework.

On the arrival of Viper 2 back at the farm, having dropped Jenny off with two very jubilant and weeping parents, the Godfathers bid farewell to Peter. They would exchange the car and leave it in a safe area secured, for pick up later.

Peter undressed out of his field gear and loaded it with his equipment carefully into the secret compartments, purpose-built in the boot of the BMW. He opened the passenger door and jumped in. He knew that getting through the border to Northern Cyprus was a formality and a wave through, but he took no chances.

He settled in the passenger seat of the car as Viper 2 drove down the lanes heading for the main highway towards the border with Northern Cyprus. There was no conversation; he just placed his feet up on the dashboard and drifted off into his own world. How the hell did all this start? he thought. I know when - fifteen and a half hours ago.

Chapter 2

(Fifteen and a half hours earlier) 2pm Saturday 5th August, Local Taverna, Kolossi Village, on the Southern coast of Cyprus.

Peter Webb (Viper 1) sat on the barstool sipping his local sweet coffee.

Peter Webb was forty-five years old, 5’ 10" with collar-length light brown hair, broad shoulders, and muscular rugby player’s legs. He had the lines of life just starting to appear around his eyes, which were a piercing slate blue. He was for all intents and purposes a nondescript man, dressed in faded blue denim jeans, Cat flip-flops, topped off with the local Keo beer’s famous bottle logo on a faded yellow T-shirt.

Peter had owned the small taverna for the past eighteen months. It was uniquely positioned on the main road in the village of Kolossi between Ypsonas Village and Episkopi Village. As this was the coast road he was never short of trade from the heat-exhausted holidaymaker to businessmen seeking refuge from the baking sun.

The taverna was small with eight tables inside and six tables outside on the pavement. The outside area was covered by a wooden pergola supported by old beams sat in wooden barrels. There was an abundance of traditional local wooden village chairs scattered around. Positioned to the right on the inside was the standard wooden tongue and groove bar. Complete with all the trinkets, currency pinned up by holidaymakers from all over the world, photographs of patrons drinking copious amounts of Keo beer and the standard mooning shot of the local ex-pat village idiot who seems to feel that having four beers, will give him special licence to flash his backside at people eating their meals.

There was half a wall dedicated to photographs of rare Cyprus birds. Peter was known by his patrons to disappear for days hunting down rare species and then boring everybody with the photographs on his return.

The setting was the perfect guise for the typical Brit abroad; opening up his bar and trying to make ends meet. Traditional taverna, nice friendly man, lovely surroundings, cool beer and hot sun, what more did you need?

Peter shouted over to Bill who was sipping his beer in the corner. He was one of the steadfast local drinkers who arrived every day at eleven a.m. and left on the dot of 6 p.m. Watch the old place for a couple of minutes, mate. I need beer. Bill raised his glass of beer in his usual ‘ok’ gesture and Peter went through the kitchen towards the cellar. Removing the key from his jeans pocket, he unlocked the old cellar door and opened it. It creaked tiredly on its steel hinges as he entered the cellar then closed and locked the door behind him.

He walked over to the far wall and moved aside the packing boxes with the crisp boxes stacked high on top.