The organization, p.27
THE ORGANIZATION, page 27
‘Daddy. I’m hungry,’ came the piping voice at his side. Matthew glanced at his watch. It was 1.30 pm.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. SPECIAL WEAPONS AND TACTICS.
The six UH1-M74 helicopters, manned by the S.W.A.T. team arrived in a militarily precise line, the requisite distance apart. Accustomed to dealing with strange sights and sometimes stranger people, even these officers were taken aback at the bizarre picture that appeared as they rounded the mountain area and came upon the convoy.
It was now moving slowly forward again, the obstacle having been removed by sheer strength of manpower. The third and fourth trucks in line had sacrificed a man each to drive the crewless front two, the new leader assuming command. Why they were moving forward was anybody’s guess; there was nothing of any use ahead any more. Perhaps they were simply following orders.
From the heights of the ‘copters, the line of trucks, reflecting the sun’s rays, appeared as a giant silver necklace. It was a fascinating sight, but each member of the team was fully aware of the pitiful contents.
The rather squat helicopters moved into place alongside the convoy, each armed with a fearsome M21 armament system, which included two M134, 7.62mm high rate machine guns. One had the additional facility of smoke rockets just in case.
At first, the intention had been to halt the convoy by dropping the smoke crystals and effectively blinding the crews. However, there was a real risk that one or more of the vehicles would lose their bearings and plunge into the deep gorge at the side of the road. The decision was taken, therefore, to equip one helicopter only with the smoke device merely as a precaution.
Another problem to be faced was how to avoid causing injury to the children in the event of an armed attack. Any of the rockets was capable of blasting the vehicles to smithereens.
The use of machine guns was the only option but rockets were to be carried and used only as a last resort, even though specially adapted to have the incendiary material removed and to be of the lesser range effect area.
The helicopters lined up along the convoy and went into hover mode. Every other one brought out a loud hailer and addressed the convoy.
‘This is Special Weapons and Tactics. We order you to halt immediately, leave your vehicles and line up by the far side of the road, laying down your weapons. Any resistance will be met by maximum force.’
The trucks rolled on.
‘This is your final warning. Halt your vehicles now, or we will open fire!’
Spat! Spat! Spat! Spat! A short burst of fire answered the S.W.A.T. team’s orders. Then another, both from the leading truck, the bullets ripping into the fuselage of the lead helicopter but causing no serious damage.
The response was immediate. A withering round of fire blasted from the lead ‘copter, the shells screaming like swarms of angry hornets, utterly destroying the cab and mincing the humans within. All that could be seen was the large silver container fronted by the platform that once held the cab, resting on its eight wheels. The convoy halted, unable to pass the wrecked truck.
Undeterred by the devastating display of power, the rest of the convoy began to fire their P90’s at the helicopters. The battle had begun.
In the opening skirmish, two S.W.A.T. members lost their lives but the returning fire accounted for ten of the opposition, disabling four more trucks. A massive explosion rocked the gathering as a UH1 disappeared in a ball of flame.
The remaining helicopters rearranged their positions immediately on losing one of their number so that maximum coverage was maintained. Not yet in attacking movement, the team was now adopting defensive measures, moving up and down and side to side. Had they moved in to attack the convoy, the proximity of the mountainside would have proved a hazard, as would the narrowness of the flight paths creating the danger of collision with each other.
The expertise of the helicopter crew was clearly in evidence with not one single round striking any of the containers and gradually each truck was being put out of commission.
The defenders were wholly committed to their cause and The Organization continued to fire on the S.W.A.T. teams even though it was obvious that they were fighting a losing battle.
Out of the convoy of twenty, eighteen had been destroyed in the same way as the leader vehicle. The other two could, feasibly, have moved but there was simply nowhere to go and, in any event, they were blocked in by the surrounding wrecks.
Even so, the men returned fire, having some successes. Eight of the S.W.A.T. team were dead and four were seriously injured. One more ‘copter disintegrated in a massive sheet of coloured flame, the bulk of which took a horizontal plane.
Things were becoming unexpectedly desperate for the S.W.A.T. team; their numbers were diminishing alarmingly. A concentrated hail of bullets hurtled at the stationary vehicles in a determined attempt at ending the confrontation, still taking absolute care not to hit the containers.
The two operational trucks were ultimately unable to withstand this onslaught and ended up with their cabs annihilated. Only four of the convoy’s crew remained alive and they finally surrendered to the superior force, stepping away from the vehicles and standing near the mountainside, hands placed obediently on heads, weapons visible on the floor in front of them.
The remaining helicopters moved over the roadway and men abseiled down to the ground from each one. These picked up the discarded weapons and methodically emptied the chambers.
Moving to the prisoners, they quickly forced them to the ground, face down, whilst they secured their wrists together with plastic ties. A professional search of the paedophiles revealed no hidden weapons so they were hauled to their feet and a signal given to the hovering machines above.
From two of the ‘copters, cradles were lowered in which were herded two prisoners to each with their respective guards. The cradles were then hoisted and the prisoners placed at the rear of the cabins, under guard. With an increased whirring of blades, the two helicopters swept away.
From those remaining, twelve men dropped to the ground and began to unfasten the container doors. They shouted to the children inside that they were now safe and could leave the trucks, but it took several minutes for the children to absorb the fact that they had been saved. Then, one by one, they rolled from their cots and emerged onto the road.
The effect of the drugs was in an advanced stage of wearing off and the children’s actions were much quicker than of late. There was also chatter. They instinctively lined up on the grassy bank of the mountain wall, some sitting, most exercising the stiff muscles of their legs. More and more emerged as the officers moved along the line of trucks, flinging the doors open and calling to the baffled youngsters.
Those watching from the helicopters were amazed at the enormity of the paedophile’s operation. Hundreds, no, a couple of thousand kids were pouring from the trucks. Sickeningly, quite a few appeared to be toddlers. From this height, the children, in their gleaming white shifts, resembled dying white butterflies gathering in the last minutes of daylight.
Nearly every one of the hard disciplined men wept. Never had there been such a pitiful sight. The men on the ground, being closer to the action, had also become affected by the evil misery of the mission and worked with tears trickling down their faces. As they shouted to the children, their voices cracked with emotion. It was difficult to retain control.
At long, long last, the operation was completed and the children were all out, safe and reasonably well. The next job was to get them to a centre where their condition could be checked, and then on to wherever they may be appraised, and detained until their parents could be traced. Many, many parents were soon to be released from the living hell that was the abduction of their beloved offspring, not knowing whether they be alive or dead.
The leader of the team, in his helicopter, radioed back to base and asked that the Army be contacted to send out a team of choppers to lift the kids, as the road was near impassable. A mammoth job but one well worth carrying out.
Meanwhile, a ground force S.W.A.T. team had descended upon the disused USAAF base in full attack gear. Meeting no resistance, they had exhaustively inspected every square foot of the compound and found not a single person. The evidence of what had resided there was easily uncovered, causing shudders among the team. Later, these very premises would be brought up to a proper living standard and used to house the kids once more, this time in much happier circumstance, until the time of being reunited with their guardians.
Back at the mountain road, the team were chatting to the children, settling them down. Suddenly, one of the ‘copters veered away and the loud hailer could once more be heard. Four of the men on the ground rushed toward the area in support.
‘Stay right where you are!’ came the metallic command. ‘This is The Special Weapons and Tactics team. Get off the bike, raise your hands above your heads and do not move. Any resistance will be taken as aggressive and will be instantly dealt with. Remain still!’
Matthew and Belinda, having reached the beginning of Trekkers Path on the Harley, dismounted and stood rooted to the spot, their arms shooting high in unison. They had no intention of provoking the men in the ‘copter.
Just then, the ground crew arrived and ran to them, guns at the ready. Could this be a fucking paedo with his victim? What luck. What good, fucking luck!
The body search was quick and thorough, Matthew’s identification documents, the compact disk, the H & K with its two rounds being laid on the floor.
The metallic voice spoke again. ‘Identify, officer.’
One of the men picked up Matthew’s documents and relayed the information back to his chief. After several seconds, the voice came back. ‘Okay. They’re non-combatant. Vouched for. Return passport and documents and allow through.
None-combatant?? Matthew thought, his mind laughing, None-combatant! If only they knew!
He smiled at the officers and thanked them. ‘Okay, pal. Off you go. Have a nice day.’ Not the best sentiment under the circumstances.
Matthew remounted the Harley after ensuring that Belinda was safely seated, and moved away. Turning onto the road, he cruised down past the ruined convoy and the S.W.A.T. team, feeling a chill at the unbelievable sight of the children, who merely looked back in curiosity.
Alongside the chill caused by the recent danger, Matthew felt a huge sense of achievement. With the indispensable Billy, he had inflicted very serious damage on The Organization and was about to blow them wide open. He regarded himself as a peaceful man, serving his profession in an honourable way, in a small, enchanting part of England. And he had proved himself when the time had come.
His destination was first to Sergeant Tom Wilson.
CHAPTER TWENTYSEVEN DISK UNLOADED
It was five in the evening when the bedraggled father and daughter were shown into Tom Wilson’s office. They had first visited Billy’s chalet to get Matthew’s clothing, stuffing it untidily into a holdall. Matthew put the gun down on a table and switched off the small lamp. He took one last, sad look around the comfortable dwelling, visions of Billy appearing before his eyes, and then left, securing the door behind him. Settling Belinda on the pillion seat of the Harley, he got astride and eased away without once looking back.
Rising to greet them, hand outstretched in welcome, a broad smile on his face, Tom exuded warmth and friendliness. The man had an aura about him; confident, capable, reliable.
‘You will be Matthew,’ he began, ‘Really pleased to meet you, at last. Billy’s filled me in about you. Good man, that.’
Matthew dreaded the next, obvious question and deflected it slightly by introducing Belinda.
‘Ah! How are you, little girl? You sure are a purty little thing. An’ you got a great daddy here.’ His smile became ever broader as he offered Belinda a gratefully accepted candy bar. She stretched on her toes and gave him a kiss on the rough, weather-beaten cheek.
‘Wow! Best kiss I’ve had in a year!’ he lied. Belinda blushed and hung her head in embarrassment, still looking at the larger than life man through upturned eyes.
The question arrived: ‘So. How’s old Billy, then? He with you?’
Matthew found it difficult to tell Billy’s good friend of his death, and it hurt to talk about it. The man he had known only three days. Three days that now seemed almost a lifetime. He had grown to love the giant, to trust him, and to put his own life in those large hands.
He replied through eyes misted with tears: ‘Sorry, Tom,’ he choked, ‘Billy’s dead.’ There seemed nothing to add. The bald statement said it all. A wonderful presence had gone from this world.
Tom sat heavily in his chair. He felt like he had been punched. Billy is invincible! Dead? No. Not possible.
‘You sure?’ was his rather lame comment.
Matthew nodded.
‘How?’
‘Really is better you don’t know. I can tell you that I witnessed it and it was not at all pleasant.’
Tom had been witness to many awful sights in his time in the police force but Matthew’s expression told him that, yes, it was right that he should not know. ‘Where is he now?’ he asked, deflated.
Buried under a mass of rubble somewhere near the mountains. He was already gone by then, thankfully.’
Tom invited the pair to sit. ‘Sorry, forgetting my manners,’ he said, ‘This has come as one hell of a shock.’
As Matthew and Belinda sat, a young officer entered with a tray containing three steaming mugs of coffee, with sugar and cream.
‘Coffee okay?’
‘Yes. Fine, thank you.’ Any hot beverage would be received gratefully.
The young man left and Belinda stood up her eyes eager. ‘Can I put the milk in, please, daddy?’ Her eyes were now appealing.
Strange how minor things are of such importance to a child, thought Matthew, and major things simply never occur. He looked towards Tom for permission.
‘Yeah. Sure, honey. You go ahead. Careful you don’t burn yourself, though.’
Putting the death of Billy to the back of his mind – at least the record would be clean now and Billy would not have to spend most of his life in prison – Tom got down to business.
‘Okay, Matthew, do you want to fill me in on what’s happened?’
Matthew began to tell of the events, referring to Billy’s death as being a result of torture. Mid way through, Tom called the two agents and asked them to come over.
The story unfolded without further interruption, Tom becoming more impressed with this Englishman, appreciating the probable influence Billy will have had on his determination. ‘And then we came straight to you, Tom,’ Matthew ended.
Tom reflected on the events, mulling them over in his mind. After several silent minutes, he leaned forward in his chair. ‘You mentioned a compact disk, Matthew,’ he said, ‘Do you still have it?’
Matthew produced the case containing its explosive data. A simple disk with a Kodak CD-R Ultima, 64MB, 74 min, insert slipped into the plastic lid. He opened it contemplating the power of such a slim, easily carried silver disk, with its smart black commercial band printed across its middle. It had cost many lives.
Closing the case with a sigh, he handed it to Sergeant Wilson. ‘I think your FBI friends will find a good use for that.
Tom took the disk, handling it carefully, as if it may shatter like an egg. ‘Thank you Matthew. And thank you Billy,’ he said with heavy heart. ‘I’ll make damned sure that your work ain’t been wasted!’
Suddenly realising that his guests were filthy and unwashed, he offered them the facilities of the Precinct. ‘May as well get cleaned up while we wait.’ He called for a female officer and asked her to see that Belinda got sorted okay. As Matthew left, Tom began to write out his report.
Half an hour later, Matthew returned to Tom’s office, clean and refreshed. Belinda was already there as were the two agents.
Tom completed the introductions and then they all sat. Matthew went through the whole story again, rejecting parts he felt the agents need not know. He made a point of glorifying Billy Salovic.
The agents accepted this, knowing that the absolute full tale had not been told. However, they were glad to be able to close a damaging case and not need to go after Billy any more. Killing paedophiles, whilst wrong in the eyes of the law, was true justice in the majority of people’s minds, theirs included.
The disk was handed over to Morrow who promised that prompt and severe action would be taken. It would take a while to study the disk and prepare strategy, but after that, it would be all systems go.
Overnight accommodation was offered to the two Britons at the State’s expense, but this was politely declined as Matthew was itching to get home and find out just what had happened to Tiffany – or, as it seemed, Tiffany’s body. The thought almost caused Matthew to scream out loud.
‘Well, at least let us get you on the next flight out of here, eh?’
Matthew gratefully accepted this offer. His body and brain were becoming very tired now, the impact of the last few days beginning to hit home. It was now 7pm.
Twenty minutes later, he was saying his farewells to Tom and thanking him for being such a good friend to Billy, before he and Belinda were whisked away to the airport courtesy of the FBI.
They had been found seats, Business class, on an American Airlines flight out to London. Belinda was sound asleep within minutes of taking to the air but Matthew felt he would never sleep until he knew the true fate of his lovely Tiffany. However, listening through headphones to an old medley of the enchanting Mantovani Orchestra, he went into a deep, untroubled sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT HOME RUN.
Thirteen and a half hours later, Matthew and Belinda shuffled in their turn to the Customs Officer who had been stopping people at random, every fourth or sixth one on average, to make a more thorough search of their luggage. The person in front of them had fallen victim to this and been allowed through after some delay.
