Influence (3 page)

The Final Assault

Chapter Four

A couple of miles north from Poland Lane in the car-park of the Airport's dedicated police station, a white panelled van and black armoured Land Rover were parked up, filled with twelve nervous members of the Firearm unit's Red and Blue teams. In front of the two vehicles rested a number of BMW X5s that contained pairs of Armed Response Vehicle officers and snipers, who would close nearby roads and provide support to the two teams that would dynamically enter the house.

The plan had been developed and refined over the previous hours with floor plans of the house being taped to the HQ sports hall floor and room entries practised a hundred times over before the kit was checked. It might have been a short notice operation but this wasn't the first time these guys had been on such a last minute job; albeit without the AK47 wielding terrorist threat they were facing this time. Although they may not have had the time that was normally afforded to them to effectively plan, they had still done a pretty decent job, and besides, operations could still go bent even after weeks of planning, it was just the nature of the game. At least they would have plenty of support from the ARV officers with their G36 5.56 calibre rifles and the Snipers with their HK 417 7.62 sniper rifles, the teams reflected.

“Fifteen minutes from now I want the teams moving up to their FUP” said Chief Inspector Murray over the radio.

The FUP or Form Up Point was a location where the team would stand by (wait) until they were given the green light to move to their FAP or Final Assault Point where there would be no going back and the raid would start from.

“Assault coordinator, that's received boss. Red team do you copy?” Marriot enquired.

“Red team received and standing by” Simpson responded.

After letting go of his radio transmitter attached to the top of his tactical vest that housed stun grenades, Taser and spare mags, Simpson reached up and switched on the Land rover's red interior lights to illuminate the sealed rear of the vehicle.

“Thank God for that, I can stop using my torch to locate and attach Foster's Glock retention cable to his seat” Allen joked. 

The Glock 17, 9mm handgun was the weapon of choice for police services and Swat teams around the world because of its ease of use. On the British firearms units the gun was carried in a holster on the officer’s leg and used as a secondary weapon to either the HK MP5 9mm or the HK G36 rifles. In order to keep the weapon attached to the officer at all times there was a flexible and coiled cord attached to the handle of the gun and the officer’s holster. It hadn't taken long for this safety measure to become one of the unit's favourite wind up pranks that consisted of an offending officer sneaking up on their unsuspecting victim, removing the cord clip from their gun and attaching it to something that would end up being dragged away as they walked off. Although it was highly immature and they complained when the joke was on them, it didn't stop any of them from doing it.

“Bloody hell Dave, now ain't the time to be screwing around you nob!” an annoyed and nervous Foster snapped.

“I would've removed it when we got to the FUP” Allen said, laughing along with Evans.

Foster shook his head at him prior to turning around to finish his conversation with MacNeil and O'Keeffe. As the second in command to Marriot, Simpson the consummate professional he was, sat going over the assault plans again and again to make sure he was fully switched on should he have to take over the Assault Coordinator duties from him.

O'Keeffe, Foster and Arthur discussed their plan of action when the assault would begin, as part of Red team's second section they had been tasked with crashing their way inside through the main bedroom window at the front of the property, utilising the ladders that were located on top of the armoured Land rover. Simpson, Evans and Allen would simultaneously use a hand held ladder to gain access to the rear bedroom.

Foster began winding up O'Keeffe, making reference to him scaling the ladder with his fear of heights; something that was ironic given his experience as a Special Forces Operator. O'Keeffe laughed and wittingly replied that at least he wasn't the one going in first. Foster pulled a false smile back at him, knowing that he had indeed drawn the short straw after being tasked to go in first once MacNeil had blown the window out.

Red and Blue team made their way to the Form Up Point located within a pub car park less then quarter of a mile away from the target address. The snipers and ARVs were already in their support positions having been directed to move covertly to hidden points prior to the teams moving forwards to their Final Assault Points. This tactic made sure that the teams could move in knowing that none of the targets were outside the address or made aware of the approaching teams. After ten minutes, Chief Inspector Murray ordered the SFO's to move forward to each of their respective Final Assault Points. To prevent being compromised the team would have to move slowly and stealthily to their designated spots, creating a slight but totally necessary delay before the entry could begin. Generally speaking the FUPs would usually be closer to the FAPs. However, because of the house's position in the lane, it meant that this would have proven difficult and risked them being compromised. On this occasion the team’s fitness and light footedness would have to serve them well, as clambering around quickly and quietly in heavy kit was not an easy undertaking, especially if you had been lazy with recent physical training.

“Right lads, Resi's on then” Simpson said to the others inside the back of the armoured Land Rover, referring to the respirators and helmets SFO's wore to protect themselves from smoke and other debris that could fly around a room during such a raid. In the back of the van parked next to them, Blue team were doing the same thing. It was time to step into the 'breach' once more! Foster looked at O'Keeffe and said “I'm so jacked up with adrenaline that I can barely think straight, I hope I don't screw anything up”, his words betraying his alleged cool demeanour. Although Foster had attended his fair share of planned and spontaneous firearms operations since arriving on the unit, he had never been on this kind of high stakes job. O'Keeffe on the other hand with his Special Forces background had carried out a number of similar high level operations in far shittier locations around the world, which meant that he was as cool as a cucumber on the inside as well as on the outside.

“Mate you're fine, don't sweat it, seriously. We'll get these fuckers out of the way and go for a pint tomorrow night” he replied in a calming voice that made Foster take a deep breath and re-focus his slipping thoughts.

As planned, Blue team joined by Simpson, Allen and Evans, had been tasked with pulling into Poland lane and quickly alighting about three hundred meters shy of the target address from where they would move stealthily into their assault positions at the front and rear. While a short way back Foster and co would wait a minute before moving as close to the property as they could without compromising themselves using the Land Rover, in preparation of receiving the green light to charge forward and secure access to the main bedroom. It all sounded quite simple!

“Silver, all units respond if you are in position, Black side containment? White side containment......?” Chief Inspector Murray enquired over the air. Black and white side was 'tactical speak' to identify the different aspects of a target building or structure. Black for the rear, White for the front, Red and left for side aspects.

The sniper pairs and ARVs clicked their radio transmitters twice in acknowledgement of Chief Inspector Murray from their support positions. From this point on, there would be radio and verbal silence apart from the final command to enter. In these type of high risk operations, silence was indeed golden; and vital.

“Red team 1 and 2, are you in position?”

Two clicks from PC Simpson, and two clicks from PC O'Keeffe gave the signal they were ready.

“Blue team are you in position?”

The adrenaline was pumping hard now. If Foster had had the time he would have taken off his respirator and thrown up as the nausea he was feeling bubbled up from his stomach. However, now knelt on top the Land Rover clutching his HK MP5 9mm carbine rifle, he was definitely not going to get an opportunity to do so. Next to him MacNeil was knelt holding a pole that was attached to the explosive charge that would destroy the bedroom window. Hanging off the back of his black overalls and tac vest there was also an array of entry gaining equipment that ranged from a spike and hammer, to a Benelli shotgun that could be used to blow the hinges of a locked door too. All of this extra equipment was to help MacNeil in his job as a Specialist Method Entry Officer (SMOE), whose role was to smash their way into a property using any means necessary, even tractors had been utilised before. Op Barrier would have four of these officers to make sure nothing would obstruct them. 

Blue team had now made it to their FAP on the side of the house, camouflaged by darkness, trees and mud; lots and lots of mud. The crappy conditions made Sgt. Marriot fantasise about how things might have been less messy and pleasant if Mahood had waited until summer. In the front of the line of six men that made up Blue team, PC Collins stood covering the front door with his MP5 Whilst PC Lewis 'Conan The Barbarian' Durant, a huge imposing man who had previously been a semi-pro body builder, anxiously waited with his Benelli shotgun in preparation of blowing the door clean of its hinges, allowing the stick of five men behind him to rush inside. The first section of Red team were now in position too, with Simpson covering the window above them with his gun while Allen and Evans waited with the ladder and window charge. There may have been verbal and radio silence, but the sound of the officers collective heart beats inside their masks could not be suppressed, the vein bursting adrenaline making them beat loud and rapidly.

“SILVER, SILVER. TEAMS STAND FAST, STAND FAST!” Murray suddenly blasted over the radio, causing the members of Red and Blue team to look at each other with wide eyes as they tried to fathom out why the entry was being delayed.

Foster looked to O'Keeffe for answers, but his eyes returned the same confused look that Foster's had. A stand fast at an FAP was unprecedented; and for good reason. The longer an entry team waited in such close proximity to the target, the higher the risk of being compromised. It was now or never! Not wait a minute while command decided what they wanted do.

Unbeknown to the two teams, one of the ARV crews that was parked on the main road that led to Poland Lane, had detained a resident of the Lane after he had refused to wait for the road to re-open. Due to his attitude they became concerned that the male might have had links to the address, so the officers arrested him, but not without a fight, which resulted in the male being tasered. The situation had panicked Chief Inspector Murray who was now worrying about the identity of the man and whether the operation had been compromised.

“Sir they have to move now, forget the arrest they've been there for almost five minutes, it's too long to wait, call the strike now”

PC Phelps implored Murray as he continued to hold an unnecessary dialogue with the ARV officers to try and ascertain the male’s identity.

“But what happens if they've been compromised??” Murray responded, the trembling tone in his voice indicated that the pressure had got to him.

“SIR, they've been there for too long already, you can't wait any bloody longer. For God's sake call the strike or I fucking will”. Phelps said before picking up the radio.

Murray grabbed the radio from him and raised it up to his mouth to speak with his hands trembling under the pressure, beads of sweat beginning to roll down his face. At the side of the house the members of Blue team were growing more concerned by the second. PC Robert Jones, a Welsh man in his late thirties, turned to look at Marriot, his eyes reflecting everyone's thoughts.............. 'What the bloody hell were they waiting for?'. Marriot, confused himself, looked back at Jones and nodded with a slow calmness, signalling to him to remain sharp and to face forwards again.

“STRIKE, STRIKE, STRIKE” Murray abruptly boomed out over the radio with Phelps screaming that he should have given the team some warning after the unexplained long wait.

The members of Red and Blue team jumped to attention like racehorses reacting to a starter pistol as the instantaneous call of strike took them by surprise. The armoured Land Rover's powerful engine roared into action as the vehicle raced towards the front of the house. At the same time Blue team ran up to the front door as Simpson's second section of Red team slammed their ladder against the wall and began rapidly scaling it. Within seconds of the Land Rover arriving at its destination, O'Keeffe sent the ladder on top of the vehicle crashing against the front of the house, landing with pin point precision beneath the main bedroom window seal. Without any delay they flew up it as if the four stone of kit they were wearing was as light as a feather.

BANG, BANG, BANG. The sound of 'Conan' blowing off the front door's hinges echoed around them. The door had barely come to a rest on the floor before Collins threw a stun grenade into the hallway, the device delivered nine loud bangs and vision distorting flashes before Blue team charged in after it. As if part of a well-choreographed ballet, Evans and MacNeil, Red team's SMOE officers, simultaneously placed their charges against the double glazed windows above their heads and detonated them.