Night In London (Night Series Book 2) Page 7

  “I don’t like it, General, I’m sorry to have to say it but I just don’t like it” said Kalahari.

  “What don’t you like about the plan, Warrant. Tactically it is sound.”

  “Well for starters why would this gang of criminals simply allow a massive, highly visible and well marked, police vehicle to just drive unhindered into the mine, they will see us, or at least, hear, us coming from at least a couple of hundred metres away?”

  Now the General smiled.

  “I’ve been keeping something to myself, holding something back from you all. You see the choice of vehicle was not just for its armour or high troop carrying capacity. Rather it’s use in this operation comes from Intelligence gathered. But I’ll let him tell you..”

  The General then leaned down and removed the sack from over one of the men’s head, then ungagged the man and removed his earplugs.

  “What was your name, son?” asked the General.

  “Mark, baas. But everyone just call me Marky.”

  “Okay, Marky, tell us about the plan to attack and reclaim the so called “Gaddafi gold” that you were told about..”

  Marky then delivered the story of how after obtaining the information, by whatever means, including the rape and torture of his family, from General Arosi about where the gold was being stored: in which bank vault, private security storage facility or other hidden location, the gang were then going to steal an armoured police vehicle from the state garage where a police friend of the now disgraced and deceased constable Juhu worked. They would then all meet at Durban Deep Mine before launching an attack on the site the following day.

  Little did the criminals know that the Gaddafi Gold was now safely stored at the South African Thaba Tshwane base in Pretoria -- a military base which was originally founded in 1905 by the British Army and called Roberts Heights. The gold would stay on the base while preparations were made to hand it over to the National Transitional Council of Libya.

  General Arosi then replaced Marky’s ear plugs and blindfold.

  “So you see gentlemen, the gang are expecting this vehicle. Our suspects here phoned ahead this morning and told the gang’s leader that everything had gone to plan and they had the location of the loot and the vehicle and would be arriving just after sunset this evening. Before we head out Marky here will make one more phone call saying we are ten minutes away. Simply put: they won’t know what hit them. Questions?”

  “Just one question, General. Where are our support vehicles?” asked Night knowing that the answer to this question would provide great insight into the mission’s true purpose.

  “As we speak a number of reserve officers are standing by waiting for my call at SAPS Roodepoort. A contingent of four patrol vehicles and two ambulances and a detective and a duty officer who we will hand the scene over to. They don’t know our exact location but by my estimation given the distance it shouldn’t take them more than 20 minutes, no more than half that with blue lights and sirens.”

  The men now seemed satisfied. The operation looked a lot more kosher than it had done only an hour earlier.

  General Arosi bent down and removed the criminal’s gag and earplugs once more.

  “Marky, tell us, what will the men do once we are inside the compound and they see police officers inside?”

  “Straight! Baas, they will shoot you, they will shoot all of you at once, straight one time, no questions, Baas. Those guys wont go to a South African Jail. They will die first, I have heard them say it many times, even if they have to kill themselves..”

  The General said nothing, he didn’t have to. The look on his face said it all. He didn’t expect the Nigerian Mercenaries to come quietly. In fact he was counting on it.

  The shining light of the sun had now completely vacated the sky and African Darkness now engulfed the land. Heavy storm clouds blocked out the moon and the only illumination came from the Casspir’s headlights and the tactical flashlights some of the police officers held in their hands while making final adjustments to their equipment.

  General Arosi took Marky to one side and gave him a mobile phone. A couple of minutes later and they returned to the vehicle and the waiting and now fully prepared police officers.

  “The call has been made and they are expecting us within the next fifteen minutes – once we are at the bottom of the climb we are to stop and flash our headlights three times, got it, Demon?”

  “Ja, bottom of hill, flash lights three times, copy that, General.”

  “Tony, please put him in the back with his friend and return once they are both safely secured.”

  The men waited in silence for the couple of minutes it took for the criminals to be stowed in the vehicle and for Tony to return.

  “Come closer, everyone” said Arosi.

  The men formed into an even tighter semi circle once more and respectfully bowed their heads at a signal from their commander.

  “Dear Lord, please protect us this night and help us to deliver the wicked to justice in your name. So help us, God” said General Arosi.

  Silent for a while longer the men unsure as to whether the General was finished or not, finally each began to open their eyes and look up. The men were all used to a longer more prepared prayer recited by the duty commander before each shift or special operation.

  “Works for me” said Night with a shrug.

  “May I add something, General?” said Kalahari while stepping forward.

  “Certainly, Warrant.”

  Kalahari made a production of taking center stage and then motioned for the police officers to once again bow their heads.

  “To Mars, God of War. Make our weapons deadly and our aim true and accurate. Give us strength to destroy our enemies and conquer their evil. In your name we few move this night to fight and die or fight and vanquish our enemy in the name of justice, law and order. Mars, God of War give us victory and we offer you our enemies’ blood.”

  The men opened their eyes and looked up, once again, not so sure about the peculiar religious entreaty they had just heard.

  “Jesus, Kal. That was a bit, well, umm heavy, wasn’t it?” said Night.

  “I’m not Jesus, Mike and neither is Mars. But believe me Mars is the real deal, hey. Our unit has been praying, or whatever you want to call it, to Mars since just after I arrived at the STF. One of our commanders is crazy about Roman history, anyway that’s a story for another time. But you know what? We forgot once, we forgot to pray to him before an operation and we lost two men, two men! Our heaviest losses in a decade and for fokken stupid reasons, so believe me, he’s a powerful oke to have on your side!”

  “Works for me” said Night.

  “Aggh, I need no imaginary, pale and weak, Roman God on my side. My ancestors are with me” said Shaka while he pulled out and touched a spear pendant hanging around his large neck.

  “Funny, that” said Night while pointing at Zulu’s neck piece.

  Not amused Daniel responded: “What’s funny, Mike, my brother, my people’s symbol, the spear!?”

  “No, my large friend. I find it interesting that the Zulu symbol for strength and war is the same as the Roman Gods. The symbol for Mars is also the spear.”

  “Ah, perhaps then this Roman God isn’t so weak after all.”

  “Roman God, Zulu ancestors and Jesus. I’ll take them all, the more the merrier, just like ammo!” said Warrant Officer Snyman.

  “Hmmph! I need no God, only my weapon” put in Demon.

  “Ya, boet and we all know why” responded Night while slapping the short and very stocky police officer across the back.

  “All right gentlemen, cut the chit chat, let’s move!” said Arosi.

  The Casspir moved up the dirt road to the bottom of the minor incline that would lead them to the southern entrance of Durban Deep Gold Mine and came to an abrupt halt. General Arosi got on his mobile phone and conveyed the order for the Reservist Captain to start the operation and bring his men to the given location. Demon flashed th
e vehicle’s headlights three times and in response received three strobes of light from the top of the mine shaft’s tall head frame.

  The MRAP moved off again, taking the small incline slowly.

  “That high position could present a problem, if that sentry is correctly equipped?” said Night referring to the head frame of the mine shaft that stood about 20 feet in the air.

  “You mean with a proper sniper rifle, Mike? I certainly doubt it. General, any Intel suggesting these guys might have any weaponry more sophisticated than AKs and handguns?” asked Kalahari.

  “None. Eyes on had reported AKs and pistols only.”

  “I still would have preferred to have a nice NT20 (NTW20 Sniper Rifle) providing over-watch.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Warrant. Now, Sergeant Snyman, once we cross those gates I want you to hit the blues and officially announce our presence as police officers over the loudspeaker and command all people on the property to throw down their weapons and lie on the ground with their hands outstretched.”

  Night knew that approach would garner the exact opposite reaction – it would almost guarantee that the men within the mines perimeter would open fire on the vehicle.

  “General, why don’t we keep a low profile, pass the gates, then debus quickly, raise our weapons and take control of the situation that way? With surprise still firmly on our side.”

  The General, Night’s friend of many years, now turned and looked at the Captain with a cold, distant, expression.

  “Negative, Captain. That would expose our soft flesh to the flaming hot barrels of those AK 47s. We use this vehicle to its outmost capability. These criminals either comply or face the full wrath of the South African Police Force.”

  There was nothing else to be said and within a minute the Casspir and the police officers would be within the compound of the abandoned mine.

  Night didn’t think it was possible for the MRAP to move any slower without actually going backwards. There wasn’t a sound within the troop carrier and every man was now breathing heavily through his nose.

  Each officer had taken up a position directly behind one of the Casspir’s 12 firing ports with the muzzles of their assault rifles resting just on the opening, ready to be pushed forward and fired in a heartbeat.

  “Ear defense” commanded the General.

  Each man put in his hearing protection. The noise within the Casspir was going to be quite literally deafening if not protected against.

  “Load.”

  And as one and with the precision of a Roman Century under the watchful eye of a veteran and unforgiving Centurion, each of the seven police officers cycled their respective R5 assault rifles loading a NATO 5.56x45MM round into the weapon’s chamber.

  “Repeat only, gentlemen.”

  “Copy that” came the universal response of the police officers indicating that they understood the command to put their weapons on semi-automatic mode only and not on to fully automatic – something that would be hellish to the enemy in sight and sound but tactically flawed given the limited amount of each weapon’s field of fire maneuverability within the Casspir.

  Heartbeats later and the vehicle passed the large rusty and dilapidated perimeter gates of the abandoned mine. Night was surprised to see absolutely no look of awareness on the faces of the two gang members who stood sentry at the gates. They apparently had not a care in the world. Both men had their weapons slung harmlessly over their backs. It would of course be nearly impossible to see the inside of the Casspir in the current nighttime lighting.

  The vehicle continued forward another 20 metres or so before coming to another abrupt halt, Night realised that the Casspir apparently had only two modes: go loudly or stop immediately or that Demon was just a terrible driver, some feet in front of a small camp fire where a small group of the men were sitting, drinking, eating and chatting quietly to each other. The body shadows created by the fire falling eerily across the dirty ground and the large corrugated iron buildings that were once home to hundreds of miners.

  “Mark your targets gentlemen, clock wise from our position”

  “Copy that” came the muted response.

  “Now, Sergeant” said Arosi.

  As the General gave Sergeant Snyman the command to put the vehicles blue lights on and announce their presence over the loud speaker one man stood up from the camp fire and began to walk towards the vehicle with a RPG held in front of him as if carrying a naughty child by the scruff of the neck.

  Before the General could countermand his last order until he had someone mark the new and very real and incredibly dangerous threat of a shoulder launched anti-tank weapon, and although notoriously inaccurate, from the current distance even a child would be able to obliterate the MRAP using the anti-vehicle system, the blue lights were on and Sergeant Snyman began to speak in a loud and authoritative, heavy Afrikaans accent:

  “THIS IS THE SOUTH AFRICAN POLICE FORCE. YOU ARE ALL UNDER ARREST. PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPONS AND LIE FLAT ON YOUR FACES. THAT IS AN ORDER FROM THE SOUTH AFRICAN POLICE FORCE.

  Now the full force effect of adrenaline kicked into Night’s senses and time slowed, to the point just before cessation, life moved frame by frame. He went deaf in both ears and his vision completely tunneled into the man directly in front of his field of fire – anti-tank man. It took the revolution of the earth upon its axis and the same time it took for him to exhale his breath before he saw the armed criminal begin to lift his RPG7 and place it on his shoulder. He saw the man’s hand move toward the trigger and then time stopped as Michael Night fired four rounds from his assault rifle into the center mass of the threat. As the rounds made impact and the body of the departed hit the earth time returned, now sped up and Night looked around to see that all the other men within sighting distance of the Casspir had dropped their weapons and had their hands raised in the air. Not one of the other officers had fired, even the General had stayed his weapon because not one of the other Mercenaries had presented an immediate threat. Either because they were so well trained that they knew their small arms fire would do exactly nothing to the hull of the MRAP or because they didn’t want any part in this battle. Either way the police officers stayed true to what in means to be a police officer, even in the most dangerous country on earth, to not take life unless life is under direct and immediate threat. If the operators in the MRAP were soldiers then every single one of the men outside of it would now be nothing but carrion for creatures of the African bush.

  “Anyone have eyes on the sentry on top of the mine shaft?” said the General.

  “I’ll look” said Tony who then stood and more quickly than Night thought possible had opened one of the two roof hatches to get a look at the crow’s position. It was a fatal error.

  The inimitable blast of AK47 fire sounded and the crack of it’s whip announced that an expertly targeted round had been fired and had made impact with the General’s bodyguard. Tony slumped back into the vehicle with his head and face covered in blood. His body fell awkwardly onto the floor between the two rows of seating.

  Each officer, still keeping eyes on their own respective fields of fire and noticing no other Nigerian mercenaries making a move for their weapons, waited for their next instructions.

  “Kalahari, now Warrant, pull your card” said Arosi with a hint of anguish in his voice.

  Without a response Kalahari took the radio from his tac vest, dialed in a specific channel and keyed the mic:

  “Falcon One, Tango One.”

  No response.

  “Falcon One, Tango One.”

  Sergeant Snyman climbed over the front seat and produced a medi-kit and began to work on the body of Tony Tshabalala.

  “Falcon One, Tango One” the Warrant Officer said once more.

  Nothing. The Special Task Force officer looked surprised, even worried and was about to key the mic and speak once more when a response was finally forthcoming.

  “Send for Falcon One” came the voice over the radio.

/>   “Are you in position?”

  “Roger that, that’s an affirmative.”

  “Then I need everything, and I mean EVERYTHING you have into the top of that mine shaft head, ASAP.”

  “Copy that, Warrant. We’re descending now.”

  Kalahari then looked at the surprised men who still had the majority of their attention on the now prone and surrendered Mercenaries. “A little insurance policy I insisted to the General we have. Some friends of mine.”

  The blades of the medium sized Atlas Oryx military helicopter began to make themselves heard as the helicopter descended from its hovering altitude, high enough not to be heard or seen over the dark clouds in the night sky, it had taken up ten minutes earlier. Then it came into optimal range and the sound of both of its 7.62MM door mounted machine guns roared into life in fully automatic action and the head frame of the mine shaft was minced and splintered into a million shattered pieces then finally topped off by the sound of an M26 grenade exploding after being launched precisely on target. No recon mission to identify the body of the enemy sniper was necessary as the man’s mutilated body was launched out of its nest and hit the roof of the MRAP before bouncing onto the ground.

  “Tango one, Falcon One.”

  “Send” said Kalahari.

  “Target destroyed. Anything else, Warrant?”

  “That’s a negative, just keep over-watch until the locals arrive, please.”

  “Copy that, we won’t be here much longer then, I see a convoy of blues a few mikes from your location.”

  “Copy that, and thank you, brother.”

  “Haha, it’s us who should thank you, Warrant. It’s Bible Appreciation Evening at base tonight!”