The Yeoman: Crying Albion Series - Book 1 (12 page)

“I don’t care
for him or that college, I’ll call my mum and see about getting a visa for
Albion, it shouldn’t be too difficult, she works with the Albion Nursing
Service. You could be sponsored too, getting a visa is quite easy.”

“I never
fancied myself as a nurse Val.”

“Then join
the Labor Service, they allocate jobs people are suited to, you don’t need
silly qualifications that expire or have to pay for either. They take care of
training and everything.”

“Won’t they
suspect us as spies or something?”

“My mum tells
me the detection systems are a wonder, as long as you’re honest you’ll be fine
Nicola.”

The two girls
almost didn’t notice the large group trailing them led by Omar. One of them
scuffed his feet on a ruined paving stone giving Nicola reason to turn.

“Valerie
run!” her friend said chillingly, grabbing her arm briefly.

Together they
ran, but they were nearly a mile from any built-up area and few places were
around to try and escape into. Both girls, while not unfit, were tiring and
neither wore running foot-ware. A construction site lay ahead with several
builders and workmen inside.

“In here!”
Valerie said and both rushed in.

The building
site was only just being started though. There were plentiful materials
scattered about but no buildings whatsoever, not even a
portacabin
.
A wasteland beyond the site overgrown with shrubs was the only cover. Beyond
that was a car park and from afar opposite the college seemed to overlook them
distantly.

 
Both girls pleaded with the startled workers
as the gang closed in.

Omar was
almost demonic with rage. The girls had humiliated him and now thought they
could get help. By the time they’d closed the distance the two English girls
had new allies. His cohorts began to falter as the workers immediately stood in
front of the girls. They faced the gang of ten with tools raised.

The Arab
youth who led them was not deterred though and reached for his wealthy father’s
section 5 revolver. It was a small .38 Smith and Wesson and would suffice for
what he had in mind. He drew it out and threatened the men. Three of the
construction folk faltered and ran off to raise the alarm but one, a
firm-hearted Geordie laborer stood his ground.

Omar did not
hesitate and shot the man dead with three quick shots. Both Valerie and Nicola
were rooted to the spot by the violence. The dying man next to them was stood
up one moment and down like a stone the next.

“You’ll be
next if you don’t do as I say!” he said, waving the gun at the girls.

In her mind’s
eye Valerie saw herself in Iraq where her father had been killed. Angry Iraqi
insurgents who’d infiltrated a village and whipped up a mob were replaced by
Omar and his crew. Smart designer clothes clad the men who fanned out. Apart
from one tag-along lad from a nameless council estate the rest were foreign.
They spoke words but she barely heard them. Her friend tugged at her arm.

“Didn’t you
just hear me? Get your clothes off!” the angry one said. “I want to humiliate
you like you humiliated us! Racist bitches like you need to be trained on how
things are
gonna
be!”

Nicola’s
courage to move acted and she withdrew deeper into the building site. Two of
Omar’s crew wanted to follow but he called them back with a yell.

“Let her run!
We’ll get her another day. For now we’ll play with this one. She can watch!”

“Lie down on
the floor!” Jesse Young repeated.

But Valerie
could not, she merely slid down onto her haunches and made herself into a
tight, crouching ball. She did not consciously do it, but merely acted on some ancient
instinct that came to her. Her arms and hands were raised against the sides of
her head, resembling someone sheltering from artillery fire or a
disaster-threat.

With her back
to a pallet of bricks she became catatonic to the demands of her abusers. Omar
had raped before but was slightly taken aback by the woman’s actions. He needed
her spread-eagled to take his rapacious brutality out on her. Yet curled up
like a rock while clothed was a major obstacle.

One of his
crew burst out laughing. “Do we carry her away back to the college?” the lad joked.

“Shut the
fuck up!” Omar scowled giving him a brief but demonic glare. “I’ll beat the
bitch into what we want!”

Taking his
revolver he clubbed the girl several times. The weapon was tiny though and
still Valerie defiantly held to her posture. Taking the gun by its barrel he
struck again with the blunt sights as a crude cudgel. This time a faint whimper
of pain came from the girl, causing her to move slightly. Yet crouched as an
impenetrable ball she remained.

As Valerie
endured more blows from the pistol whipping her friend watched agonizingly from
behind a stack of cinder blocks. Nicola was part-Irish and was drawn to do what
her ancient kin had done.

A brick came flying
from nowhere aimed at Omar. It missed him by several inches but struck an
arrogant Nigerian gang member in the neck. The house brick had been hurled as
hard as Nicola could manage and it crushed the windpipe of the youth. He went
down and struggled to breathe as another brick sailed towards the group of ten.
This too was a direct hit as a skull fractured on impact. The Irish were
renowned skirmishers and ambushers, even up to the tragic Troubles of the
previous decades. In some quasi-relevant way Nicola felt a strange joy at
seeing her enemies fall and redoubled her efforts.

As a clueless
Eurasian tag-along fell to the ground she dodged a stone thrown back by a
flanking ganger. In response her own brick struck his ankle, sending the Arab
to the floor howling and crying out.

Omar caught a
glimpse of the other girl now. He turned from the battered blonde and fired at
the elusive one. His shot missed by an inch but blew fragments of a nearby
breeze block into her face, stunning her momentarily.

A nimble lad
called Ali from North Africa rushed over, keen to capitalize. Before Nicola
could recover the fast opponent had her seized and two more joined him. Try as
Nicola might the trio were all over her and in a heap she went down to the
ground. Jesse Young moved in and reached down. First he threw Ali aside then
the other two.

“I’m first!”
he declared, wanting the girl fresh before having to pass her on.

Nicola had
some breathing space as the new adversary was distracted, she scrambled away on
her back like a crab. The big black youth closed in though. Espying a
long-handled spade lying nearby she hurled it along the ground, hoping to
strike Jesse Young’s legs. He preempted the move though and jumped up before
diving down on top of her, crushing the wind out of her.

“You’re a sly
little cunt,” he said lustily throwing the spade aside. Young easily weighed a
hundred pounds more than her and Nicola knew there was no escape this time.

From the waste
ground two men raced across to the building site.
Weyland
had watched the scene from an elevated vantage point. Earlier both he and
Knight expected Valerie and Nicola to catch the bus together and go their
separate ways. From there they could tail Valerie back to her house and make
the move.

Omar and his
gang changed everything. When the two girls had fled to the building site he’d
hoped the gang would have lost interest and dispersed. The gunshot from Omar
raised the stakes and without saying a word they both moved in.

There were
over three hundred yards between them and the building site and Knight had time
to ask snap questions.

“Lethal or
non-lethal?”

“Use both if
you have to.”

“What
happened to
subtlety
you said—”

“I’m not
having to explain to a mother why we let her daughter be gang-raped! All bets
are off!”

The two ran
on, passing one of the construction workers. He stopped and tried to tell them
what they already knew.

“Undercover
police! Get to safety!”
Weyland
said venomously
without breaking his stride. The civilian obeyed and the two men of Albion ran
onward past him.

Ali, watched
impatiently as Jesse Young worked on his victim. She fought back like a wildcat
though biting and scratching where she could to the extent that the rapist
couldn’t properly initiate his foul deed.

“Ali, get up
here and hold her arms!” Jesse scowled without turning from Nicola.

Before Ali
could move a faint scuffing of boots on dirt distracted him. He had time to
turn as a heavy, yet slender rod struck him hard in the face. The charged blow
shattered bone effortlessly forever maiming him, but for now he was propelled
into unconsciousness. The Moor fell without the others noticing properly. The
other two had their backs to
Weyland
who barged past
them to set upon Jesse Young. Knight was already engaging them as he did so.

The black lad
was oblivious and trying to hold both Nicola’s wrists with one hand while the
other tried to probe about with his manhood. A split-second later
Weyland
sent his sabre baton whipping down and around in an
underhand arc. The vicious blow struck between Young’s legs, destroyed both
testes and fractured his
coccyx
. As the assailant drew back his arm for a follow-up blows his
fellow Yeoman rampaged his own attacks into both the other gangers. One fell
from a destroyed skull while the second was paralyzed from the neck down as the
deadly baton did its work.

An angry
bellow of rage from Jesse Young rang out causing him to move his head.
Weyland’s
baton-strike was partially deflected off the man’s
thick skull. Half-turning a long swinging arm lashed out in response, bashing
into his body armor. Undaunted,
Weyland
delivered a final
strike that battered into his face, shattering Jesse Young’s nose. Only then
was the he stunned into a world of agony and pain. A booted kick from Nicola sent
the black youth off her. Knight put down his enemies with less finesse than
Weyland
, but unleashed just as much ferocity. Both of them
lay slumped upon the other bearing cracked skulls and maimed limbs that would
never mend again. Such was the ferocity of the sabre baton. Its kinetic energy hummed
internally, both men had used the rounded side of their batons instead of the
wedge-like one. It was supposed to be less-lethal that way but regardless, at
full power the weapons were indeed a force-multiplier. By now though the
inner-charge that gave the sabre baton its extra bite dissipated.

Nicola
Woodvine
tugged on her pants seeing the armed man standing
over her.
Weyland
stayed low on instinct and moved
further in, using the stack of breeze blocks for cover as he circled the
remaining enemies.

Knight was on
the opposite side doing the same but had less cover to work with. The duo were
fortunate and the remaining gang were oblivious. Nicola’s screams had disguised
their fighting as part of the rape-
tustle
. Only two
more of Omar’s gang remained on their feet, but one of them was armed. Two more
were unconscious or dead with another holding his ankle and moaning like a
girl.

Omar himself had
ceased his onslaught with the revolver and put it down to take up a heavy
sledgehammer.

“I’ll break
all your legs and arms if it means taking your kind to what the future—”

“Armed
police! Drop the weapon!” said Knight moving in on the group.

Omar’s face
suddenly changed as he seemed to take on a different aspect.

“Don’t shoot!
Project Cadre, codename ‘
Sading
.’”

Knight said
nothing but paused a little.

“I’m Omar
Jordan, a Cadre leader!” continued the enemy. “You all should have been briefed
about us being active here? Anyway this bitch has been targeted for removal.
We’re just having fun before the Ministry get here to take her away.”

“Is that so?”
said the Yeoman lining up his pistol again.

“Yeah! I
thought you police had been told to stay out of our areas?” he asked with a
hint of arrogance.

“Guess what,
we’re not
your
fucking police mongrel!”
Knight said with a snarl.

He waited for
Omar’s expression to change with horrific realization before the Yeomanry
operative fired a double-tap from his handgun.

Weyland was
stalking up towards the adversary just as his accomplice opened fire and he went
down to the ground instinctively. The first bullet struck center of mass into
the target as did the second. The 9mm hollow-point ammunition was neither large
nor small compared to other types, but they made short work of wrecking Omar’s
vile heart. He sank down, dropping the sledgehammer.

The last gang
member was the only white lad of the group, he took off running and Knight drew
a bead. His weapon fired once and the boy fell forward to the floor adjacent to
a wall. He crawled away around it clutching his leg and yelling.

Weyland seethed
at Knight’s actions but concentrated on the mission. He raised up the near-naked
girl gently.

“Your mum
sent us Valerie!”

“What?” she
whimpered.

“We’re from
Albion. we’ve got to get you out of here!”

Nicola
Woodvine scurried across to join her friend.

The violence
was almost too much for the girls though and for a moment they viewed the armed
pair with intense shock.

“You’re the
one on the news, the Heysham killer!” Woodvine said with a combination of fear
and awe.

“I was there,
but not as a killer of civilians and police like you’ve been told. Terrorists
were my enemy on that one, and those raping our women like they nearly did with
you girls.”