The Wrath of Shakira

  Title Page

  THE WRATH OF SHAKIRA

  A Max Storm Novel

  By

  M. W. Fletcher

  Publisher Information

  The Wrath of Shakira published in 2012 by

  Andrews UK Limited

  www.andrewsuk.com

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Copyright © M.W. Fletcher 2012

  The right of M.W. Fletcher to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Wednesday 29th June 1988

  Wednesday 29th June 1988

  Three months after the raid on Shakira’s camp.

  Elephant and Castle London

  Lat = 51 degrees, 29.5 minutes North

  Long = 0 degrees, 5.4 minutes West

  “Good morning this is the six o’clock news, in the city today..!”

  Jason Blunt rolled over and turned the sound down on his radio alarm clock; he smiled to himself and thought I still have another fifteen minutes to remain in bed.

  Jason was what you would call a fifteen-minute man; he always set his alarm to go off fifteen minutes earlier than required, it was his way of cheating time.

  However it was Wednesday morning and he needed to be in work early, he had arranged this so that he could leave early; tonight was the night when he would be asking his girlfriend Debbie to marry him.

  Jason worked for the London underground on the maintenance Division, today he had to be at Stonebridge Park main depot North West London.

  At 06:10 he was leaving his flat for the five-minute walk to the Elephant and Castle tube station on the Bakerloo line to catch the 06:18 train.

  Edgware Road London

  Edgware Road London

  Lat = 51 degrees, 31.1 minutes North

  Long = 0 degrees, 10.1 minutes West

  Several miles away Abu Wael was kneeling on his prayer mat praying, ten minutes later he picked up his rucksack and closed his front door, but today he didn’t bother to lock it, he entered Edgware road and walked towards the tube station a short distance along the road.

  He looked at his watch, it was six-thirty.

  Elephant and Castle

  Elephant and castle

  Bakerloo underground line to Paddington Station

  Lat = 51 degrees, 29.5 minutes North

  Long = 0 degrees, 5.4 minutes West

  To

  Lat = 51 degrees, 30.9 minutes North

  Long = 0 degrees, 10.6 minutes West

  Jason Blunt entered the tube station and showed his LU pass and walked down the stairs to the platform ‘B’, he entered the platform concourse and heard the roar of the tube train coming along the tunnel and felt the rush of air that preceded the train’s arrival, there was the usual number of commuters waiting on the platform.

  The tube train was empty, as this was the start of the run that would take it all the way to Harrow and Wealdstone, the journey time to Stonebridge Park was thirty-seven minutes.

  Jason remembered the introduction course for London underground staff and the talk about its rolling stock, the one he was entering consisted of seven carriages; it was of the Nineteen Seventy-Two mark two types manufactured by Metro Cammell of Birmingham.

  Jason entered the rear carriage and sat down; he opened the newspaper he had bought from the local corner shop and went to the back sports page, the Gunners had beaten their rivals Spurs three-one last evening.

  The very first section of underground in the world opened in Eighteen sixty-three between Bishops road now Paddington and Farringdon street now Farringdon.

  The Bakerloo line opened in March Nineteen hundred and six between Baker Street and Lambeth north, the Elephant and castle station opened in the August of the same year.

  Sixteen minutes later, the train arrived at Edgware tube station, Abu Wael entered the seventh carriage and sat down opposite Jason Blunt, he placed his rucksack on the floor between his feet.

  Jason looked at the newcomer he quickly observed that the man was dressed in loose fitting and baggy style grey trousers with a baggy grey top with a hood that covered his head, the man was obviously of Middle East ethnic origin from observing his facial features, Jason resumed reading his newspaper.

  Four minutes later the train pulled into Paddington station, Abu Wael pushed the rucksack from between his feet under the seat as he stood up.

  The doors opened and he alighted the train.

  Jason looked up, noticed the rucksack under the seat opposite him, and noticed the owner Wael walking out of the carriage door. Jason shouted, “Hey! You’ve left your rucksack!” Abu Wael turned and smiled at Jason and then turned and began to run towards the escalators.

  The train door closed and the train recommenced its journey.

  Jason looked down at the rucksack and saw a whiff of smoke emitting from the half-open flap.

  Terror took control of him and he froze, the seventh carriage entered the tunnel leaving the platform behind.

  Jason found himself moving towards the rucksack, he picked it up and ran to the rear door window, with all his strength he swung the bag at the window letting it go, it flew through the air and smashed through the glass pane, the rucksack continued its flight out of the carriage into the darkened tunnel towards the platform.

  Two seconds later the device in the rucksack detonated, a blinding bright yellow orange light followed by silver streaks, which were shards of glass enveloped the seventh carriage, lighted the tunnel. A deafening sound was followed by a fireball being propelled by the shockwave towards the train and back out onto the platform.

  The immense light had blinded Jason; the initial cushion of air followed by the fireball threw Jason backwards half the length of the carriage, with shards of glass ripping his exposed flesh and slamming him into a seat; the resulting impact broke his pelvis.

  All around him were bodies of the other passengers being hurled around the carriage like rag dolls, people were screaming and the sounds of passengers in pain could be heard.

  Jason’s world however had become silent as the pressure from the shock wave passed through his outer ears travelling down into the middle ear finally hitting and flattening the hairs on the cochlear in the inner ear.

  His final image was one of his beloved Debbie, the fireball passed through the seventh carriage vaporising the interior and its contents, it continued through the carriages and dissipated as it entered the fourth carriage.

  The shockwave had lifted the tail end of the seventh carriage; this caused it to twist and the motion followed through the train as each carriage lost contact with the rails they created an enormous dragging effect on the engine unit.

  The driver had felt the blast behind him; suddenly the train was slowing down for no apparent reason he applied the emergency brake system just as the first carriage behind derailed causing the twenty-seven point eight ton engine unit to leave the rails rolling onto its side, the driver fell into the side of his drivers cab hitting his head and blacked out.

  Back on Paddington station platform, the effects were equally devastating, the passengers saw the fireball radiating from the tunnel, the shockwave bowled the nearest ones over, and the flames vaporised them.

  Passengers were running towards t
he escalators and began tripping over each other and falling to the ground, those that remained standing trampled over them as if they were stepping-stones, even above the noise of the explosion the screams could be heard.

  The structure of the tunnel entrance had been compromised and the roof materials began to fall, these materials were then sucked up into the explosion creating shrapnel.

  This began its devastating and indiscriminate flight through the air cutting platform commuters down; the effect was wholesale death and serious injury.

  As the clouds of dust began to settle, an eerie silence came over the scene, from the explosion to this point had taken just under seven seconds.

  Abu Wael felt the grounds below him shake as he exited the station into Praed Street. He walked away and the smoke emanated from the Underground entrance and out onto the street. All around the sounds of building and car alarms could be heard having been activated by the underground tremor.

  Less than a mile away Red watch were rolling three units out of the Harrow road fire station in response to the 999 calls that were beginning to hit the system, as a result the nearby Paddington green Police station controllers were directing resources to the scene.

  Meanwhile back at the scene; filthy blackened surviving commuters staggered onto the street choking from the dust each one feeling as if they were inhaling under water; many of them had remnants of cloths, which had been blown from their bodies all were covered in dust and blood.

  The sound of wailing sirens could be heard converging on the scene of the disaster.

  The London Ambulance service (LAS) were the first emergency service on the scene, they quickly began treating the walking wounded that had made it out of the tube station, some were wandering around in a daze whilst others covered in dust had sat down on the pavement with their heads in their hands, suffering from burns, lacerations to the body and smoke inhalation, their cloths in tatters faces blackened all from the effects of the blast.

  Police units began closing and cordoning off the surrounding streets and directing traffic and pedestrians away from the scene.

  Fire crews with breathing equipment began their journey down into the darkness of the tube station, their flashlights picked out commuters whom were wandering about in the blackness dazed and confused, they were helped up onto street level where they began to be treated.

  They continued their downward descent, at the bottom of the stationary escalators they came across the first dead bodies.

  The bodies were in a pile as if they had been stacked like boxes in a freight yard.

  Along the platform, the full extent of death was evident, they found half-naked bodies their clothes vaporised from their soot covered mutilated corpses scattered on the floor and rail tracks.

  Behind them an arc light had been brought down, the switch was flicked and the area was bathed in white light, particles of dust were creating a fuzzy picture affect, however this did not stop the rescuers from taking in the full view of the blast area with its scene of death and devastation laid out before them.

  Home of Max Storm

  Home of Max Storm

  Datchet village

  Windsor

  Lat = 51 degrees, 29.0 minutes North

  Long = 0 degrees, 35.1 minutes West

  Datchet village is situated on the banks of the river Thames near Windsor castle, written evidence of this village appears in the Ten Eighty-Six Doomsday survey, it is situated Twenty-one miles from central London.

  During World War two, vital secret works on the development of radar took place here.

  Tucked away behind a stock brick wall with electronically operated gates in Gables close and backing onto Datchet golf course is the home of Max Storm, the house comprised of four bedrooms, three receptions two bathrooms and a double garage.

  Code name Eagle three Lieutenant Colonel Max Storm is a member of the OSC, Operational Strike Command.

  A former Royal Marine commando and special boat service SBS soldier, now working under the command of OSC’s commander Major General Mick Strayker.

  Strayker had known Max’s father, both had served in the Falklands conflict of Nineteen Eighty-Two where Max’s Father had died in action and was posthumously awarded the Victoria Cross.

  Max’s mother had died tragically in a road traffic Incident six years previously to his father’s death.

  Max was in his gym when the phone rang, he walked over and picked it up, “Max here”.

  “Still in bed Max?”

  “No sir just pumping some iron”.

  “Turn the television on, get changed and report in”, Strayker hung the phone up.

  Max stretched his six-foot tall one hundred and ninety eight pound body, he swept his jet black hair back and walked over to the TV and flicked the on switch.

  Moving footage of emergency vehicles and a London underground station appeared.

  “To recap, an explosion has occurred in Paddington underground station, early estimates of casualties are ninety three dead and more than one hundred and thirty commuters injured many suffering from burns and smoke inhalation, an emergency hotline number is available details are appearing on your screen now, the cause of the explosion has not been established.”

  Max flicked the switch and the TV went blank.

  Thirty-five minutes later the electronic double garage door opened and a Meteor metallic grey Porsche 911

  emerged, Max operated another electronic remote switch and the two remote gates opened followed by the garage door closing.

  The sun was rising on what looked like being a glorious July day with pale blue cloudless skies.

  Max headed east towards London, the car instrument panel was showing the outside temperature as twenty degrees Celsius and it was only eight twenty-five.

  OSC Headquarters

  OSC headquarters London

  Whitehall Place

  Lat = 51 degrees, 30.4 minutes North

  Long = 0 degrees, 7.5 minutes West

  Max arrived into central London and turned left into Whitehall place off Whitehall, he drove to the end building on the left, parking his vehicle outside the building and then climbed ten steps to a non descript door, as he turned the handle a palm signature device built into the door handle that monitors a three-dimensional image of the hand.

  Scanning the pattern of veins in the hand and the geometrical analysis of fingers in a split second; this completed the security check, allowing Max to open the door.

  Behind a desk was a man known as the rook, wearing a two-piece grey flannel suite with shoulder holster packing a nine millimetre browning.

  The rook had looked at his VDU screen as Max was entering; the screen was displaying a picture and details of Max. “Good morning colonel.”

  “Good morning, looks like summer has finally arrived”, Max, replied.

  “Weather forecast has it set here for at least the next week sir.”

  “You never know we may have a glorious English summer to look forward to.”

  “Major General Strayker is expecting you sir.”

  Max entered the nearby lift and pressed the alarm button; this time a finger print recognition system confirmed Max’s identity and the lift door closed followed by the lift descending even though no below ground level floors were displayed on the lift keypad display.

  The lift door opened and Max was confronted by a plate glass bulletproof screen the full height and breadth of the corridor in front of him.

  On the other side were two men in combat fatigues and armed with HK-5 machine guns, these were the sentinels.

  Max exited the lift and a female voice said, “Please carry out identification process”.

  On Max’s left was a voice and eye recognition scanner with a red light flashing.

  To the trained eye, you cou
ld detect up on the ceiling circular vents, which would emit a non-toxic sleeping gas, which upon inhalation would subdue a person within five seconds. This was activated should the identification process fail.

  The metal floor also had the capability of discharging a powerful electric current; that would disable a person in less than a second.

  Max looked into the scanner, “Eagle three returning to nest”.

  The light turned to a steady green and the female voice replied, “Eagle three confirmed”.

  The glass screen opened and the two sentinels moved to allow Max access to the corridor. Max entered Strayker’s office at the third door on the right; Strayker was seated with three other men, one of whom was Vince Edward’s the head of Intelligence collating information section, ICIS; the other two men were unknown to Max.

  They were watching images being broadcast live from the scene of the incident at Paddington.

  Strayker stood, “pull up a chair Max”.

  Max walked over to a nearby chair and brought it over to the four men. Vince held out his hand, “Hello Max”.

  Max grasped Vince’s hand and shook it, “Hello Vince”.

  Strayker introduced the other two men from the ministry.

  The Operations Strike Command (OSC) had been set up in the February that year with Major Strayker as the unit’s commander.

  Mick Strayker had joined the army as a boy soldier at the age of sixteen and had come through the ranks, he was now Forty-four years of age.

  Strayker was a good six-foot three inches tall with wide shoulders and a close-cropped haircut, which was now showing signs of greying around the sides.

  He was the youngest Major General in the army; he was a natural soldier having seen service during the Mau-Mau uprising in 1960, the Indonesia-Malaysia confrontation in 1963, Aden 1964, several tours in Northern Ireland, and the Falkland in 1982 along with postings in Gibraltar, Hong Kong, Belize and Brunei.