Murray McDonald - Kidnap

“The flight is in a holding pattern above the airport. Can you believe it. It’s 3.00 a.m. and it has to wait to land.” Reaper was exasperated. “I’m telling you, it will take all my strength to stop myself from killing those bloody kids when they walk through that door.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” said Leo.

“Have you got the message to the schools?” asked Reaper changing the subject.

“Yes, at 10.00 a.m. our time, our guys will let the terrorists make their demands and to show they mean business, they’ll kill 50 kids at each school.”

“I thought we said 100?” asked Reaper nonchalantly.

“They’ve all agreed 50 is fine.”

“OK. Well that should cause enough confusion and news for the next month. No-one will pay the slightest bit of attention to the deal. Perfect,” said Reaper, relishing the tactics.

“He is one cold bastard, this client,” said Leo.

“I know. He’s the only guy I’ve ever met who puts a shiver down my spine,” responded Reaper.

“And that’s saying something. Are you absolutely sure he wants that many kids killed?”

“He was adamant. His exact words were that it would be excellent cover for his transaction.”

“Cold bastard.”

“Very,” said Reaper and then changing the subject asked, “Do our Team Leaders have an exit?”

“Yes. When the kids are slaughtered, they’ll be dressed as ambulance men and will stretcher one of the bodies out when the time comes. They’ll leave their teams behind to what we’re sure will be a swift response from the authorities.”

“Yeah, fifty dead bodies will bring an end to the softly, softly approach,” said Reaper watching the hostage scenes which looked like the usual media circus, all brightly lit with news cameras from around the world vying for position.

“What if we have to call them off?” asked Reaper.

“No can do. It’s a one time communications burst. The system only allows one message and that’s what makes it so secure. Once the message has gone, it effectively self destructs so nobody can tap into it. We’re told it’s the only system the NSA can’t beat,” said Leo referring to the ultra secretive American National Security Agency whom it was said could listen into any conversation or read any message in the world.

“So there’s no going back?”

No. The orders are irreversible. At 10.00 a.m., 200 kids are going to die.”

“What the hell???” Reaper screamed at Leo as he watched the TV screens.

The A380 was not the only plane to have left Masirah, four of the six available Citation X’s had taken off right behind it. They were to be joined by an Airbus 319CJ, a Scramjet and another Citation X which had taken off from Kota Kinabalu. In total, eight aircraft were aloft that morning for Operation Retribution.

The Airbus 319CJ landed in an airfield just outside Moscow and had four Porsche Cayenne Turbo S’s waiting for it.

The Scramjet had left Kota Kinabalu long after any of the others and landed well before them despite having almost twice the distance to travel. It landed on a secret base just outside Washington and again was met by a row of Porsche Cayenne Turbo S’s.

The final plane from Kota Kinabalu, the Citation X, had a much shorter flight plan. It headed to a remote island in the middle of the Indian Ocean.

The four Citations from Masirah flew in formation for almost 3,000 miles before two broke off and landed in Paris, while the other two made their way across the Channel to London.

At each of the airports, a row of Porsche Cayenne Turbo S’s sat waiting for the islanders. Tom owed the Porsche family a huge favour.

Tom listened to his earpiece as each of the teams checked in at their various locations. Everybody was exactly where they should be with five minutes to spare. Tom could not believe that everything had gone so smoothly.

At exactly 3.30 a.m. Glasgow and London time, 10.30 p.m. in Washington, 4.30 a.m. in Paris and 6.30 a.m. in Moscow, the four hostage sites would be plunged into darkness. At exactly the same time and at each hostage site, the police and army commanders in charge and some of their top men would receive emergency phone calls from their own children. The confusion would create the window required for Operation Retribution.

Reaper screamed at Leo.

“What the hell is happening?! Every one of the schools is in darkness! Check in with your men immediately!”

Leo checked the screen. Only forty four blips were showing. These accounted for thirty seven guards, the comms man, the parents, Mark, himself and Reaper. The other two men were at the airport.

“It’s fine, all accounted for, no extra bodies here.”

Reaper called his men at the airport.

“Has the flight landed?”

“Yes.”

“Can you see the kids yet?”

“No they’ve not come through yet.”

“What do you mean they’ve not come through yet?”

“It’s a big plane and there are still people filtering through.”

“You imbecile! They were in First Class and had no luggage, they should have been off first! Get back here now!”

“Leo! Kill the mother, the kids have screwed us.” Reaper could not believe it.

Papa waited with his islanders. He was in London. They were all dressed in black, from head to toe and were, to all intents and purposes, invisible. Their dress, skills and expertise meant that if they did not want to be seen, they wouldn’t be. Even the Ghurkhas, famed for their camouflage, marvelled at the islanders’ skills. There were fifteen islanders at each of the schools, more than enough to deal with fifty terrorists.

The lights went out and the islanders moved in. The power would return in five minutes and in that time, they had to complete their task and get out. Mobile phones buzzed all around them as they made their way silently and “invisibly” through the security cordon around the school.

It was the same at each of the four schools. Twenty seconds after the lights were extinguished, sixty islanders were in the terrorists’ dens.

Each islander carried an array of weapons, many of which would be considered non lethal. However, in the hands of the islanders, there was no such thing. They also carried a pack containing a variety of contraptions to aid the mission.

The islanders broke into groups of three and swept through the schools systematically. The terrorists did not know what had hit them. One moment they were watching the area around them, the next they were down.

Outside, the confusion was growing. News filtered through that the lights were out at each location. Parents were dealing with major family emergencies on their phones, leaving only a few non-parents to deal with what was going on. Commanders, their deputies and most of the officers across the four sites had, unbeknownst to each other, all been tied up on these urgent family matters. They were all too engrossed in their own private emergencies to realise what was happening around them. Nobody knew what to do, so nobody did anything.

Within three minutes, London and Paris were clear. One hundred terrorists were down. The attack had taken place in absolute silence. Not a single bullet had been fired. The islanders made one last sweep and then woke up four children at each school. They left as quietly and invisibly as they had arrived. Moscow and Washington were slightly larger and took the islanders nearly the full five minutes to clear the schools. They too woke up four children and disappeared into the night.

After exactly five minutes, the lights came back on at all sites. Family emergencies had suddenly become mistakes and misunderstandings. As the lights came on at each school, two lone students stood at the gates of their school. The world watched and listened as the students shouted, in unison, the message they had been given.