Viper - An Elite Black Operations Squad: VIPER, #1

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’ is his first adult Novel.

Now available - ‘VIPER 2 - The Master of Tomorrow’s Spawn’, ‘VIPER 3 - Bad Russian Blood’ and ‘VIPER 4 – Fog of Death’

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 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 her editing. Steven Longfield’s input for the front cover and John Hudspith, my new editor. To all my friends, colleagues and family for their support.

Thanking Chris and Faith Mortimer (Author) for their invaluable advice and encouragement in helping me get the manuscript into shape for distribution.

VIPER

AN ELITE ‘BLACK’ OPERATIONS SQUAD

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.

Copyright © David Baker 2012

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All Rights Reserved

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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.

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First Published in 2012 and re-edited in 2014

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Published by

Topsails Charter

Southampton

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!

‘Black Operations’ involves activities that are highly clandestine and often outside of the standard intelligence/military protocols.

It involves a significant degree of deception, to conceal who is behind it or to make it appear that some other entity is entirely responsible.

Technology you are surprised at today has probably been tried and tested by the chosen few from yesteryear.

Welcome to the world of VIPER , an elite black operations squad.

VIPER INVENTORY

Vipers Tactical Helmet

Vipers Tactical suit

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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.