Black Sword is the codename for a UK Special Forces task group. Its purpose: to hunt down the terrorist group known as Cobra, an organisation dedicated to bringing down Western civilisation.
Previously…
A joint operation between Black Sword and the US task force known as ‘GI Joe’ led to the capture of Firefly, a mercenary saboteur. Firefly revealed Cobra’s hierarchy to Black Sword’s commander, and the location of a Cobra camp…
Darklonia
Two weeks later
The C.5 Hercules transport plane rumbled through the late night sky over Eastern Europe, far above the reach of Darklonia’s fighters or her air defence systems. On board the Hercules were the four SBS members of Black Sword, the two Special Reconnaissance Regiment snipers, Paddy O’Leary, the signaller, Thaman Rana from the Pathfinders and all but Martin Tanner from the SAS members. All were dressed in HALO jump gear, rifles strapped to their sides. At three minutes to jump, the transport’s intercom system began blaring out ‘Thunderstruck’ by AC/DC. Captain Windsor, the team leader, shook his head as he heard the music, muffled though it was by his helmet. Thunderstruck was the song of choice of the Pathfinders. The Pathfinders had a long-standing tradition of playing the song just prior to executing a parachute jump. As well as Thaman being a Pathfinder, David Cottrell from the SAS had been a Pathfinder before joining the SAS. Windsor concluded one of those two was likely to have given the pilots, Mels and Robbie, the music.
The Pathfinders were an elite platoon of the Parachute Regiment, who specialised in forward recon of enemy forces and vehicle combat, engaging static and mobile targets from their lightweight Land Rovers. Many Pathfinders often joined the SAS. Cottrell had taken that route from the Paras. By contrast, Windsor himself had been in the Grenadier Guards regiment before joining the SAS. Big Ben had been in The Rifles, a regiment Windsor detested as it had been created in 2007 through the amalgamation of four different regiments, one of which had itself been the result of a prior amalgamation of three regiments and another had been two regiments previously before their merger in the 1950s. Windsor hated it since it was forced to trade on the history of other regiments to have any identity. Hywel Jones had been with the Royal Welsh, another hybrid regiment. Prior to the Royal Welsh being formed, he’d been in the Royal Welch Fusiliers. Jacko, like Big Ben, had been in The Rifles. By contrast, the four men of the Special Boat Service were all ex-Royal Marines, where most SBS commandos came from.
As the loadmaster indicated one minute to jump time, the Hercules’ ramp came down and the commandos began moving forward, Windsor stepped aside to watch them file past. As they did, he saw Thaman and David exchange bumped fists, before Liam Norris, one of the two snipers, did the same with David. Windsor frowned, then realised, Liam had also been a Pathfinder before joining the SRR. Cameron Travis, the other sniper, had joined the SRR from the Royal Regiment of Scotland, another unit that was the bastard offspring of amalgamation, where seven Scottish regiments had been merged into one.
The commandos dived from the plane, with Windsor bringing up the rear. They fell through the sky, breathing oxygen from bottles strapped to their chests, wearing normal goggles across their faces. Night-vision gear would’ve been useless, torn away in the slipstream.
It took less than ten minutes for them to make the descent, before popping their chutes and steering into a smooth landing, one after another. Jacko and Brian Cooper pulled small shovels from their packs and quickly dug a hole and buried the team’s parachutes, oxygen bottles and harnesses, the rest of the team forming a security perimeter as they worked.
Once done, the team moved out, Thaman in the lead.
The assault team moved quickly across the grassy hills toward the Cobra camp, not talking, their heads constantly moving as they scanned the night through the four-lens night-vision goggles they wore. Four lenses, side-by-side, gave them greater peripheral vision.
Half a mile from the camp, they came to a halt in a copse of trees.
Liam and Cameron moved forward. Two guard towers were manned by Vipers at the corners of the camp’s fence. Both snipers took aim with their Arctic Warfare sniper rifles, firing a single sub-sonic round to take the guards down.
Liam, Cameron, Thaman and Paddy waited at the copse as the rest of the team dashed toward the camp, dodging around the counter-balanced wooden pole that passed for a gate.
They promptly split up, Captain Windsor and Big Ben heading for the ops room as the rest moved to place Semtex charges on the doors to the barracks rooms, with tripwires across the doors.
Big Ben and Captain Windsor reached the ops room. The captain led the way into the building, his M4 up and ready. There was a single Viper in the room, dozing. Windsor pulled out the combat knife strapped to his web-gear and stepped up to the Viper before stabbing the unsuspecting gunman in the neck. Big Ben unslung his backpack and began filling it with paperwork, DVDs, flash drives and a handful of smart phones. Windsor opened up his own pack and followed suit.
Once their backs were full, they both grabbed laptops and tablet PCs before heading out the door. Big Ben then set up a demolitions charge on the door.
At the armoury, Brian and Mark ‘Bunny’ Bunn cautiously opened the door to the building with its thick walls and thin roof. Inside was a man working on a missile launcher. He turned toward them, then froze at the sight of their M4s aimed at him. He raised his hands.
“Who the hell are you?” Bunny asked.
“Scrap Iron,” the man replied. “Missile technician and new anti-armour specialist. I only joined last week.” He had a slight East European accent, Bunny noticed.
Brian covered his fellow SBS commando as Bunny cuffed Scrap Iron with flex ties and then put a hood over his head. They led him outside, before Brian set the place to blow up with a timer.
They hustled back to the centre of the camp, where the team regrouped.
“Who’s this?” asked Windsor.
“New recruit,” Bunny said, “Says his name’s Scrap Iron and he’s an anti-armour specialist.”
“Thought he might have some intel value, so we didn’t slot ‘im,” Brian added.
“Thank you for that,” Scrap Iron added, his voice muffled slightly by the hood.
“Shut up,” Brian said, slapped the back of his head.
“If he’s a new recruit, why do you think he might be worth taking prisoner?” asked Windsor.
Brian shrugged, “For one thing, he could tell us why they need an anti-armour specialist. Might be helpful in stopping them.”
“You might also like to know about who recruited me,” Scrap Iron added.
Brian slapped him again. “I said ‘shut up’, Muppet.”
“We don’t have time to debate this, Captain,” Big Ben said. “Those timers are running.”
Windsor looked at him. “Good point,” he conceded. “Grab him and let’s go.”
The team moved across the camp toward the small airstrip where Harry and Steve rigged demolitions charges to the fuel dump before the team climbed aboard a large cargo truck parked at the side of the runway. They drove out of the camp, just as the charges on the ops room and the armoury exploded.
Pausing long enough to pick up the other commandos who had waited outside, the group then made their way on to the nearby main road as one by one the barracks blocks were destroyed as the Cobras reacted to the explosions, waking up and charging out of the buildings, only to trip the Semtex.
Paddy contacted Zero back at base, “Rapier 1-1 to command, Mission accomplished. Camp destroyed.”
Two days later
Black Sword HQ, Hereford, England
Colonel Zero assembled the team once more.
“Scrap Iron has given us some very valuable information,” he informed them. “So, kudos to Bunny and Brian for capturing him and not slotting him.”
The colonel glanced around as several of the commandos applauded them.
“Our prisoner has revealed that, unlike Firefly, he was recruited by two businessmen in Switzerland. These businessmen identified themselves as Tomax and Xamot, who Scrap Iron learned were the bankers for Cobra, operating in Switzerland. Our friends at Vauxhall Cross have determined that these aliases relate to Tomas and Louis LaSalle, twins linked to the Corsican mob. They fled Corsica some years back and are now believed to be in Switzerland. Tomax and Xamot are the heads of a corporation called ‘Extensive Enterprises’, which investigations have linked to Ponzi schemes, pyramid schemes, money laundering and fraudulent share trading. They may have legitimate activities as well.”
“I assume the money goes straight to Cobra?” asked Captain Windsor.
“Correct,” Zero nodded. “Scrap Iron said he believes that Tomax and Xamot supply Cobra with a significant amount of its operating funds, as well as supporting the arms sales Destro makes. Capture of the twins will put a significant dent in their financial resources.”
“We going to Zurich?” asked Saint.
“No, you’re going to be going to the sunny Cayman Islands instead. An operative from GCHQ managed to hack their computers and acquired their personal schedules for the next three weeks. A holiday in the Caymans as part of their attempts to maintain their off-shore tax avoidance in the Caymans.” Zero grinned, “An undercover team will be going to capture them, once we have positive ID and will be covered as tourists.”
“Sir, I’d like to volunteer for that assignment!” called out Griff. Harry, Jacko, Bunny, Big Ben, ‘Wee ‘Eck’ and Liam all quickly volunteered as well, no doubt deciding it was a chance to get a free holiday as an assignment.
“I’ve already selected the team,” Zero announced. “Saint, Lisa, Ado, Steve and Greg are going.”
Several of those who had volunteered groaned like disappointed school children.
The Cayman Islands, the Caribbean
Three weeks later
Saint and Lisa sat in the lounge of the Owen Roberts International Airport. They’d been in the country for a week, posing as a married couple on holiday. Much to Saint’s disappointment, Lisa had made him sleep on the floor the whole week. Both were sipping cold drinks, a folded newspaper next to Saint concealed his P226 SIG Sauer pistol. Lisa’s was concealed in her handbag next to her drink on the table.
Ado was disguised as a cleaner; the trolley with his cleaning equipment hid an MP5 sub-machine gun in the rubbish sack.
Greg and Steve were posing as friends on a snorkelling holiday, carrying bags that concealed shotguns as they sat in another part of the lounge, drinking tea.
The tannoy announced the arrival of a plane heading for Jamaica. Ado was wearing a radio earpiece tuned to the air traffic control frequency. He passed Lisa and Saint, making a point of collecting an empty chocolate bar wrapper Saint had left on the table.
“Their flight’s the next one in the pattern,” Ado muttered. “Get ready.”
The signaller rolled his trolley across to Steve and Greg, repeating the message.
Minutes passed, before the twins strolled into the lounge, carrying briefcases, from the runway; passengers at the airport still having to board on the runway, rather than via a Jetway.
As they approached Lisa glanced around, spotted them and gave Saint a brief nod.
The twins passed them by as Steve and Greg approached.
Lisa and Saint drew their pistols and Lisa called out, “LaSalle!”
Both twins turned to see the two soldiers aiming their pistols at them. Violating civil firearms training, they had their fingers on the triggers.
Greg and Steve dropped their bags, pulling out the Benelli M4 shotguns they carried as they did.
“What is the meaning of this?” demanded one of the twins as several civilians screamed and dived for cover.
“This outrageous behaviour is pointless,” the other twin said.
“It’s not as if we carry cash in great sums,” the first carried on.
“Nor can we be extorted,” the second concluded.
“We don’t intend to extort you,” Ado informed them as he approached them from their right, his MP5 up and ready.
“You’re under arrest for a variety of crimes, starting with funding a terrorist organisation,” Saint explained. “Put the briefcases down, hands on your heads and down on your knees.”