Chapter 18: Tangos

22:47, 19 August

Petty Officer Stevens was motionless amongst the scrub, as he watched the comings and goings in the building opposite him. He and his shore party had been watching four different sites for almost two days, logging what they saw and discussing plans for an assault. All twenty of the seamen had admitted to each other that they were starting to feel what they thought might be flu symptoms and they were determined to free as many of the teenagers held captive as they could before the virus could take hold of them.

They had also witnessed two executions and that had provided additional motivation if any was required. The terrorists they had ran off the road had provided information about this camp, the basic details of how it was run and the numbers of enemy troops they might come up against. The survivors were split across four accommodation blocks with perhaps one hundred in each. They didn't know it, but Assam had copied the example of the Edinburgh cell and was using university campuses to house those he had rounded up.

Observation had told them that the survivors trained with weapons each day, but the weapons were handed out and taken back after the drill. This told them that the terrorists still didn't fully trust the teenagers and were concerned that the weapons might be turned against them. That was encouraging for Stevens, as it indicated the teenagers had not been brainwashed or 'turned' as yet.

He wriggled slowly backwards until he was deeper into the scrub then rose to a crouch and scuttled away to join the rest of his team.

"Okay, it looks as if there are only four or five hard core tangos allocated to each building. I'd say we're pretty evenly matched on numbers, but most of the enemy are teenagers themselves. I vote we quit delaying and get in there before any more of the survivors are executed or we get too sick to function," he said.

He was gratified to see nods of agreement all round. He made them all test the throat mics and earpieces one last time to make sure they could communicate with each other effectively.

"Synchronise watches. I make it 23:01 exactly. Harry, you lead team one and take the furthest away building. Frank, team two and take building three. Mark, team three and take building two. You four come with me and we'll handle this one. We've seen that lights out is at 22:30 so the good guys should all be in bed. Make your approach at 23:20 exactly so we're all going in together," he ordered.

Stevens sat for ten minutes to allow the other three teams time to get in position then he led his small group forward to the edge of the scrub. There was a lawn to cross before they could reach and enter the accommodation block where the survivors and their captors were. Stevens knew they would be exposed crossing the lawn and thought this might be the most dangerous stage of the operation. He motioned to his team and began crawling forward, keeping as low to the ground as possible.

Several minutes later all five of them were prone at the base of the wall of the accommodation block. No alarm had been raised and they were now shielded by the shadow thrown out by the building itself. Stevens took one last glance into the face of each of his companions and then crabbed forward again towards the entrance. He raised himself up and cautiously peered through the glass panel in the door. He pulled back and held up one finger to indicate there was a guard inside the door. Pointing to the left, he indicated which side of the passage inside the door the guard was stationed. Finally he pointed to the member of his team on his left and then the door to indicate he should open it. The seamen nodded and crouched in readiness. Stevens tapped his shoulder and he gripped the door handle and swung it outwards.

The Pakistani teenager looked up in surprise as the door swung open. A black clad figure stepped through the entrance and then he felt a white-hot, searing pain in his chest.

Stevens stepped inside as soon as the door was opened. His Heckler and Koch spat twice in a classic double tap, the phfft, phfft of the suppressed weapon barely louder than a normal conversation. He watched as the youth slumped to the floor, his hands clutching his chest. Stevens ignored him and led his team deeper into the accommodation block.

Two of his team split off and motioned they were heading upstairs to clear the floor above. Stevens nodded and indicated to his remaining two team members to stick with him. The last thing he wanted was any kind of friendly fire incident. They crept down a corridor they hoped would lead them to where the remaining terrorists were. The noise of music reached them and Stevens listened until he was sure which direction it was coming from. It was unlikely the captive teenagers would be allowed to play music after lights out so the chances were the noise would lead them to more of the enemy.

He heard a whisper in his earpiece.

"Upper floor clear, two more 'Tangos' down. Making our way back downstairs."

Stevens eased down the corridor on the balls of his feet to keep the noise down. He spotted a slightly open door and realised the music had grown louder as he advanced down the hallway. He could feel his two companions close behind, as he inched along the wall and up to the door. Stevens lowered himself to the floor and slowly peered round the doorframe and into the room. A quick glance was enough to tell him that there were two terrorists sitting at a table drinking something out of mugs. They were armed, but their weapons were lying on the table. From his quick glance he had recognised them as standard SA 80 British infantry rifles.

Stevens raised himself and turned holding up two fingers to let his two companions know how many bad guys were in the room. He then held up his thumb and first two fingers, counting down from three to zero. As his thumb dropped, he burst forward into the room, his sub machine gun already levelled and ready. The terrorist facing the door tried to stand and grab his weapon at the same time, but didn't manage either. Two 9mm slugs caught him high up on his chest and then a third hit his chin, shattering the bone and flesh into bloody ruin.

The seamen behind Stevens had quickly stepped into the room behind him and both fired their weapons at the remaining terrorist with his back to them. The Pakistani teenager's body flopped around like a puppet on a string as numerous rounds slammed home. Altogether he took eight 9mm bullets and he was dead before his head crashed down onto the tabletop. Once more the degree of violence wasn't matched by the noise from the suppressed weapons.

"Team leader, I think we've cleared the ground floor. Proceed to sweep the sleeping areas with caution," Stevens whispered into his throat mic.

They began to move from room to room to check for any other 'Tangos'. Each room held four beds so they had to clear fourteen before they could be sure no further terrorists remained. The two men who had cleared the upper floor looked sheepish and admitted they hadn't swept the upstairs bedrooms. Stevens gave them a hard stare and then led the way back to the stairs, moving upward cautiously once more.

They checked each room carefully, but found only sleeping survivors until the very last room on the floor. Stevens gently turned the door handle and pushed the door open, his weapon at the ready. A rotting smell assailed his nose and he felt himself fighting to hold back a sudden wave of nausea. He flicked the light switch on and then swung round quickly to vomit on the floor of the corridor.

The rest of his team peered into the room to see what had caused their leader to heave. Having been warned that something wasn't right they were a little more prepared for what they saw, but it was still a sickening sight. The remains of a naked woman lay tied to one of the beds in the room. She had clearly been repeatedly beaten and if the black encrusted blood around her crotch and asshole were anything to go by she had also been savagely raped, probably countless times. Her once beautiful body showed bruising all over it and there were even what looked like deep bite marks on her breasts. The bite marks has festered badly before the woman had died. Her face showed signs of being viciously bludgeoned and where the rope that tied her to the bed cut into her wrists and ankles, there were further deep wounds. It wasn't hard to imagine her trying to tear herself free as she was assaulted over and over again.

The seamen were hardened veterans, but even they had never seen anything as bad as this. The woman was clearly Asian or Middle-Eastern in origin and they wondered what had led to her being treated like this by her own kind.

Assam was annoyed, as he couldn't raise his team on the accommodation site on the SouthWestern edge of Glasgow. His anger at this shortcoming was replaced by a growing grim smile, as he thought of a good reason why the men there weren't responding. He had given them Fisah as their plaything, a reward to them for the exercise against the Chinese and her punishment for his shame at the hands of the helicopter pilot. No doubt they were taking it in turns to have their fun with her.

Jamie had been dismayed as the numbers he was picking up all but dried up altogether. The past two days he had only managed to recover five and four, dropping these off in Inverness to join the twenty-three already there.

At first he began to wonder if his second e-mail link on the web site wasn't working, but when a solitary e-mail arrived he knew it was. This message was also something of a shock. It claimed to come from someone calling themselves Bird Song2 and the content allowed Jamie to guess who that was.

Highlander,

rest assured we will meet up at some point in the near future. I will find you and when I do, I have a plan for your long, slow and painful death. Already I have thousands of your countrymen converting to Islam and training to be my army. It won't be long now before I come for you with these troops. Prepare yourself infidel and enjoy life while you can.

Bird Song2

Jamie pondered the pen name. It was strange that it had a '2' in it and that suggested that there was someone more important - a Bird Song1 as it were. He had just assumed that Assam was the leader of the terrorists, this might indicate he wasn't and that intelligence could be important.

"I think you've just made a mistake my friend," he thought.

If anything the number of messages arriving in his original e-mail box had grown each day. He was still much moved by the messages of support from the US and Canadian people and angry at the numbers of expatriates who were being denied the opportunity to return to the UK. He used the US President's own message, hitting the 'reply' button, and carefully composed a message to him.

Jamie felt much better for having gotten all that off of his chest. He just didn't think it was right that his countrymen, who were desperate to return, were being denied that opportunity. All of those he had picked up so far had looked at the President's previous message and were unanimous that they didn't want US armed forces landing in the UK.