Out of the Shadows (Akira and Deane Thriller Series Book 1) (14 page)

Olsen got out
of the vehicle and followed his partner. ‘Wait a second; you might
need me in inside. At least-’

Deane
interrupted as he locked his fiery blue eyes onto his younger
charge and made his decision on how to make his point. ‘You’re not
with S.U.C.O. yet. If you want to be with me you follow my orders.
Now do as I say and wait in the car.’ He flicked a switch on his
radio. ‘I’m on channel two.’

Olsen slammed
the door to the Land Rover shut and sat down in the passenger seat.
He wound down the window, shook his head in disagreement and
wondered when his so-called partner would ever treat him with the
respect he felt he deserved
. Tom still
thinks I’m twenty and a junior!
Olsen found
another bottle of water from under his seat and began to drink
heavily, with the Muscat sunshine seemingly sapping his energy with
every passing moment.

Two hours
later, Olsen gave up watching a group of kids at the far corner,
deeming them no threat. He was about to return his gaze to the
other end of the street when a car appeared in the rear view
mirror. A run down Toyota truck slowed down and pulled up not far
behind him. Olsen re-positioned the mirror to gain the most
effective view. To his surprise, the driver of the truck was the
same individual from the harbour that he had lost and failed to
remember.
Hardly a coincidence,
thought Olsen. A second man was also in the truck,
who Olsen also didn’t recognise. He thought about contacting Deane
on his radio but decided against it, not wanting to hear another
patronising comment from his partner. Olsen sat back in the seat
and watched carefully.

Jozef moved his
ponytail behind him and opened the last remaining button on the
collar of his grey shirt. With the window already wound down to the
maximum, the heat was beginning to frustrate him. At 41-years-old,
the Hungarian Jozef Kiprich was slowly making a name for himself,
along with his brother, as terrorists that were capable of any
atrocity. As the years had passed, Jozef had become involved with
Akira’s movement. Since acquiring the plan of the Royal visit to
Oman, he was now hell bent on utilising the information to the
full. Nothing less than the death of the Prince and all the people
around him would do. He was desperate to see the mighty Europe
become less stable with the death of one of its Royals. His dark
green eyes left that of the UK Embassy building and focussed on his
non-identical twin brother. ‘Is the device ready
Gyorgy?’

Gyorgy Kiprich
looked up from several papers with a look of concern. ‘Yes, Jozef.
Are you sure the Government agent at the harbour didn’t recognise
you? We cannot afford any complications.’

‘It’s highly
unlikely. The man couldn’t even find me amongst all those people.
Even if he does remember me, it will still prove to be too late. He
will die along with everyone else. Are you with me?’ Jozef never
doubted his brother’s loyalty and passion for their work but
recently Gyorgy had made it clear they should both disappear from
the limelight for a while instead of following the Royal party to
Oman. Akira had intervened and the Kiprich brothers had followed
orders.

‘Of course I am
with you, Jozef. I just do not want us to take on one operation too
many. After Moscow, we should have layed low for a while.
Resurfaced at a later time. But Akira-’

Jozef placed a
hand on his brother’s shoulder and interrupted. ‘I agree, but Akira
does not. We have little choice but to obey him. For now, at least.
Do not worry, Gyorgy. When this is done, we will return to Poland
and lie low. You are sure the phone is in place with the
explosive?’

Gyorgy didn’t
like speaking of Akira, who was power personified. None of them
knew any background or history when it came to him and that scared
Gyorgy the most. He knew his place, and was well aware that the
threat from Akira was to not only the Western world but the Kiprich
twins as well. He regained his focus and tried to control his
fears. ‘I put it there myself. When we reach our flat and the
signal is sent to the phone, it will cause the explosives in the
boot to detonate. The UK Embassy along with this so-called Prince
will be no more. The death of a Royal will de-stabilize
Europe.’

Jozef grinned with
excitement.

‘When shall we go?’

Jozef turned
the key in the ignition as the engine came to life. He turned the
car back on the main street and turned right, just passing the UK
Embassy. With the car just a few hundred yards away from the
embassy and parked outside the Oman museum, he pulled on the
handbrake and opened the door.

Olsen had
watched everything from the Land Rover. For the entire time, he had
been desperately attempting to match the face with a name but still
wasn’t able to do so. All of his senses, his instincts, all told
him the man was a danger to the Royal party and himself. From
across the street, the UK Embassy proudly stood not far from its US
equivalent. Further down the road was the Oman museum and the Beach
Hotel. In between these two buildings, Olsen saw the parked Toyota
truck. He closely watched two men get out, not lock the vehicle and
walk down the road, away from the nearby embassies. Aside from the
car, he noticed the smug attitude that personified the two men.
Both were smiling almost uncontrollably as they crossed the street.
Olsen stroked his eyebrows as he put his elbow on the doorframe.
His dark eyes never moved as the pony-tailed individual began to
laugh.

Almost against
his will, his mind wandered away from Oman and back to Iraq from
eight years earlier. He was just a boy and on his first assignment,
with his mentor and friend, Deane, beside him. The two agents had
been watching several Iraqi intelligence officers for some time.
They had carefully been placing innocent Iraqi’s in areas of
weapons storage. If a coalition attacked took place the innocents
had no chance. Olsen’s mind remembered his mentor’s chilling words
of experience;
‘Terrorists are smug and
driven people. To commit murder and believe they won’t be caught
breeds arrogance. It’s up to you to spot those traits and stop
them.’

Olsen came back
to the present, with the sun beating down on Muscat just as much as
it had done before. He moved the rear view mirror again as the two
suspects turned into a side road and faded from sight. Tapping his
fingers on the dashboard, he ran over the situation in his mind. He
pulled out his radio from his waist and thought about contacting
Deane, who was inside the Embassy where the Prince and the
Ambassador were dining together. He wasn’t able to decide whether
Deane would lecture him once again or back his instinct. He opened
the door but then closed it again in frustration. His partner’s
words came into his mind again, this time from only a couple of
hours ago as they had both approached the embassy in the
car
. ‘Always make sure you know the
situation fully before making your move!’
He opened the door again; this time he stepped out and began
to walk to the car parked near the museum and hotel. The potential
consequences continued to circle in his head. Olsen had already
made up his mind to disobey orders.
That
car is a threat to the British Royal party; I’ll inspect it and
then search for the two men!
He told
himself. Before reaching the vehicle, the familiar voice of Deane
filtered through his radio.

‘Be advised the Royal party is
about to exit the Embassy. Assume your position on the left hand
side. Watch and protect!’

Jozef looked at
the schedule he had acquired from Burton, his source in London and
then peered through the binoculars again. The man he recognised
from the harbour had stopped walking towards the car and was now
just standing in the middle of the quiet road staring at their
Toyota truck. Jozef bit his lip and waited for the Government agent
to make a move. ‘The Royal party will be coming out in seconds, he
won’t even think of going to our vehicle now. These men follow
procedures, they never break them.’ A smile broke out over his
features. ‘We don’t have procedures.’ He moved his extended vision
over to the doors of the UK embassy, which had just opened. Several
men in suits appeared, to Jozef obviously security personnel,
flanking the Royal Prince.

From the corner
of the barren room emerged Akira, who stepped out of the shadows
and into the morning sunlight that streamed in through the windows.
He wore a sand coloured robe, with a hood that covered his head and
obscured his face. Despite the rays of sunshine that lit his
presence, his glare seemed to reflect the positive glow as his eyes
focussed entirely on the street ahead and the imminent death he had
envisioned. Death was all that Akira could see and all that he
wanted. His mind, awash with memories and the voice of a long dead
wife, cleared slightly as the moment came closer. He moved behind
the Kiprich brothers and spoke in a commanding tone to Jozef.
‘Contact your men on the street. Inform them to move against Agent
Deane first; make sure that is abundantly clear.’ He spat out the
words with so much anger, no-one could doubt how he
felt.

That didn’t stop Jozef from
questioning the order. ‘What about the Prince? That is our goal,
our priority.’

‘Your goal
doesn’t interest me in the slightest. If the Prince dies then so be
it; my priority is Deane. See to it.’

‘Exactly why
are we focussing on a Government Agent and not a Prince of the
British Royal family? This Deane is just another one of their men.’
He stared at Akira with disbelief. ‘We agreed to target the Prince,
which was the point of this whole assassination!’

Akira took a
step closer, enough for Jozef to recoil slightly. ‘Just another
Agent…..you really have no idea what you’re talking about. I have
no interest in the Prince or anyone else for that matter. I simply
want to see Thomas Deane’s dead body lying down there in the middle
of the street in a pool of blood. I crave it…I need it.’ His eyes
were on fire with rage, enough to make Jozef sweat with fear.
‘Until that happens, you need to remind yourself of your importance
to me and acknowledge that it is you that is
replaceable.’

Jozef stood
there and broke away from Akira’s gaze of death. Not for one moment
did he consider questioning why, though deep down inside he was
fascinated as to why this Deane was so important. He gave a nod to
his brother, who began to speak into a nearby radio.

Akira leaned forward and waited
for the moment, his eyes burning with intensity.

Olsen reluctantly turned away
from the car and began to jog towards the security contingent,
taking his place on the left hand side of the Royal party. He gave
a sweeping look around but his attention was still fully focused on
the vehicle that appeared to have been abandoned in such a high
profile area. He jumped up straight away as bullet fire rained onto
the area in a torrent of noise. An MI6 agent in the lead position
began to call out instructions to the rest of the team but clasped
at his chest in pain as the attack continued. The radio in Olsen’s
ear filled with Deane’s voice calmly issuing orders. He struggled
to maintain his concentration but immediately, his training took
over. Feeling the cold metal of his Beretta 92G Elite II in his
right hand, he returned fire for the first time. One attacker cried
out in pain as the bullet scored a direct hit. Olsen assessed the
threat quickly and counted twelve attackers, six on each side of
the party. With a security contingent of eight, they were
outnumbered.

Deane’s voice came over the
radio, sounding more agitated. ‘Stay with the Prince at all times.
Cover him back to the Embassy. Move!’

Olsen heard the command but had
already made up his mind. He fired several more shots, some of
which found their targets. The vehicle could be seen just ahead of
him as he sprinted away from the Royal party and headed straight
towards the Toyota truck, firing as he moved.

Deane’s voice, for the first
time full of emotion, came over the radio. ‘Sam! Stay where you
are. Repeat! Do not deviate from your position!’

The image of
the smug looking men walking away from the car wouldn’t leave
Olsen’s mind and he was now convinced the attack was all part of a
greater plan. Upon reaching the truck, he crouched down and used it
as cover. Several shots fired from his Beretta took down the
remaining attackers on his side. Occasional bullets caused sparks
to fly as they hit the truck but Olsen had given himself time to
take a gamble. He ducked instinctively as another shot came too
close for comfort, flipped open his Samsung Galaxy S3 mobile phone
and quickly tapped several keys. Menu screens flashed past at
lightning speed on the display. The phone was set to scramble as
Olsen’s experience dictated his actions. It was placed on the
driver’s seat as he ducked again, this time choosing to return fire
before inspecting the contents of the vehicle. With the phone in
place, Olsen knew it would interfere with any signals sent to the
area.

Jozef turned
around to his brother and shouted at full voice as another two of
his men perished under fire. ‘Try it again!!!’ As the truck still
refused to detonate, Jozef rushed over and took the activator. He
pressed the appropriate buttons again but the display informed him
of the signal failing to reach its target. Looking through the
binoculars, he saw the dark haired Government agent at the driver’s
door and screwed his face up in a look of pure rage. ‘Keep trying
Gyorgy, keep trying!!!’ Jozef looked frantic as he checked the
detonation device several times, baffled as to why his plan was
failing.