OSC London

 

Lat = 51 degrees, 30.4 minutes North

Long = 0 degrees, 7.4 minutes West

 

On Route to Strayker’s Home, Wells road Bromley

 

Lat = 51 degrees, 24.3 minutes North

Long = 0 degrees, 3.1 minutes East

 

Monday 21st March 1988

 

Following the botched attempt on Strayker, Clarke and Booth had ditched the chopper at Fradley an old airfield near Lichfield in Staffordshire; they were now waiting in a Police liveried Ford Sierra Police vehicle in Whitehall Place facing towards Northumberland Avenue for Strayker to appear.

The vehicle had been prepared in a lock up garage in Battersea twenty-four hours earlier along with acquiring the uniforms.

They both new this was their last chance; the voice on the end of the phone had made that quiet clear, “bungle this one and you’re out on your own,” and they both new this would mean being hunted down and killed.

“I wonder why Strayker is so important to be killed”, Clarke said out aloud.

“It’s not our job to question orders, we follow them and get the job done,” Booth replied sternly.

“Yea; I know it would be nice to know why.”

Just then a maroon Range Rover pulled up fifty yards down from them and one minute later Strayker emerged down the steps into the vehicle, which moved off towards Northumberland Avenue.

Clarke was the driver; Booth had decided that he needed to take care of this personally.

Clarke engaged first gear slipped the clutch and applied the power dropping behind the Range Rover, as it turned left onto Northumberland Avenue, “keep your distance,” Booth told Clarke, “we don’t want to spook them.”

Strayker’s driver Corporal Edward’s was driving the journey to Strayker’s home was eleven miles in Bromley south east of London. Strayker had assumed a relaxed posture in the rear seat as they were passing the Houses of Parliament.

Booth and Clarke were following with a couple of cars between them and Strayker’s vehicle as they crossed Vauxhall Bridge, “where do we hit them?” Clarke remarked. “When were clear of the city and into the stick’s,” replied Booth. “Now concentrate on the target, you lose them and you won’t have to worry about anyone hunting you down; I’ll kill you myself.”

Clarke had no doubt in his mind that Booth would carry out the threat.

The journey continued onto the Brixton road where Booth and Clarke found they were attracting the gaze from the locals whom were mainly of West Indian origin.

Booth had his London A to Z out; “it looks like the old bugger is going home,” booth commented.

He flicked through the pages to Bromley and began formulating a plan a minute later he spoke to Clarke, “right; I have located the strike area in about five miles on my command we will hit the lights and sirens, get past them and then intercept them at the junction with Widmore road and Chislehurst road. That will put us a minute away from the A20 Sidcup bypass for our escape.”

Clarke nodded in agreement.

Corporal Edwards had been well trained as a driver in counter hijacking scenarios with a well-trained eye to pick out potential followers; he had clocked the Police car on Northumberland Avenue shortly after leaving Whitehall place, the fact it was still a few cars back did not give him much to worry about, however it was the only vehicle staying with them.

He decided it was time to put his skills to practice, without increasing speed he took the left fork on the Westwood Hill instead of the A234 Crystal Palace Park Road on the left his normal route.

At the Sydenham roundabout he passed straight ahead onto Sydenham road and immediately took the right turn into Newlands Park three-quarters of a mile later he turned left back onto the A234, he scanned his mirrors at the straight road behind and observed the Police car turning out onto the A234 behind him.

“Interesting,” he reflected. He knew that had the police vehicle checked the Range Rovers registration on the PNC it would have come up as a blocked registration.

The Police National Computer held the details of all UK registered vehicles, showing details of current registered keeper, make, Colour and style of vehicle.

However certain government vehicles had a block put on at the DVLA at Swansea, any Police officer worth his salt would realize that the Range Rover was a hand’s off vehicle.

He looked up into the interior mirror at Strayker whom was sleeping. “No need to wake the boss up yet,” he thought.

He was now entering the A222 Bromley road ten minutes from Strayker’s home, his peripheral vision picked up the blue stroboscopic lights behind along with the synchronized headlights alternating on and off, all the vehicles behind were moving to the left and pulling up as the Police vehicle was now coming down the center of the wide single carriageway, Corporal Edwards decided to follow suite.

The police car with its wailing siren screamed past waking Strayker, Corporal Edwards pulled back onto the carriageway and resumed the journey observing the Police vehicle vanishing into Beckham lane.

Booth was directing Clarke verbally, “take the right into the high street, now left into Market Square, the traffic lights ahead were on red; Clarke dropped the speed by braking as he negotiated his way through the junction into Widmore road where the traffic had all stopped.

“Now this is what I call fun,” Clarke remarked, Booth had also been caught up in the euphoria drivers and passengers experience when on a blue light run.

He reached forward and killed the siren and lights, as they approached the left fork with Chislehurst road Booth told Clarke to pull over.

Booth spoke, “Right let’s get out and flag them down.”

They both vacated the police car with 9mm browning handguns behind their backs; Booth raised his left hand ordering the Range Rover to pull over.

“Now that’s not right son,” Corporal Edwards spoke allowed, “You use your right hand to order a stop.”

Strayker had observed the Police vehicle and the officers ahead; they were about a hundred yards away and Corporal Edward’s was slowing down.

“What’s that you just said Corporal?”

“He’s using the wrong arm to ask us to stop sir.”

“Does it matter Corporal which arm he uses?”

“It does sir; if he wants us to stop and that’s the same car that’s tailed us from Northumberland Avenue and just screamed past us.”

“Analysis Corporal?”

“Everything is wrong on this sir, this is an ambush.”

Booth and Clarke then raised their pistols and assumed a firing stance.

“At last corporal we have them,” “yes sir,” smiled Corporal Edwards.

The first shots hit the bulletproof windscreen. Booth and Clarke were now running towards the Range Rover laying down a constant volley of fire.

“They’re just sitting there,” Clarke shouted at Booth.

“Keep firing,” he ordered, but was acutely aware something was wrong.

Booth and Clarke felt the down draught first before hearing the bell’s rotors that their gunshots had briefly masked.

Colonel Bishop Eagle five spoke into the PA system, “Desist or die, your choice.”

Both Booth and Clarke looked up, “They won’t shoot there are rules of engagement they must observe.” Booth shouted at Clarke, “quick run back to the car.”

As they began running back to their Police car it exploded in front of them from a hail of bullets.

Colonel Bishop and four of the six man team were abseiling down from the helicopter; Booth turned and fired several rounds off at them, his leg buckled under him as if hit by a sledge hammer, enormous pain hit his nervous system as blood stemmed from the wound, and he dropped the pistol as he toppled to the ground.

Colonel Bishop and his four-man team were now on the ground; Clarke had dropped his pistol and raised his arms.

Colonel Bishop looked up and raised his thumb at the marksman whom had brought Booth down.

Over his intercom system he gave the order to gag, bag and cuff them, he also ordered the medic to quickly stem the bleeding from Booth’s wound and get them both onto the helicopter that was descending onto the road.

The local terrified Bromley citizens had never witnessed anything like this in their wildest nightmares, “this is the stuff you see on films,” remarked one pedestrian whom was still cowering behind parked vehicles with others in Widmore road.

The wailing sirens of the emergency services could be heard as they converged onto the scene.

Strayker had walked over to Colonel Bishop, “looks like lady luck is at last with us Colonel.”

“Yes sir; we tagged them as they tailed you along Vauxhall Bridge, we ran the number and it confirmed it was a stolen vehicle, we just waited for them to make their move.”

Police vehicles were now converging onto the scene from both directions, armed police were deploying from their vehicles, again as with the incident at Cannock chase the police were faced with heavily armed troops and a helicopter.

The Police remained by their vehicles using them as potential cover and assuming a firing stance, the sound of their chattering car Police radios could be heard even above the helicopters idling rotor blades.

Colonel Bishop’s team had placed Booth and Clarke into the helicopter; Strayker motioned to Colonel Bishop whom stepped nearer, “keep the helicopter down and the team close to it in an offensive hold configuration; I need to make a quick call.”

Strayker walked over to the Range Rover, where Edwards was waiting with the car phone in his hand, Strayker retrieved it and made the Downing Street call, he was put straight through to the Prime Minister.

“Sorry to bother you Ma’am; but I need you to call of the boy’s in blue, we have the two men whom have been trying to kill me, the local Police are armed and don’t have any idea what they are up against.”

The Prime Minister let out a quiet chuckle, “Strayker; you and your boys are going to be the ruin of me; I will call off the uniforms give me a briefing on this at your earliest.”

“Can you also arrange a news blackout?”

“I’ll speak to my press liaison officer.”

“Thanks Mam, I’ll speak to you soon”.

Strayker turned to look at the scene; it was still the same standoff the Police seemed quite happy controlling the perimeter, a Police helicopter was now entering the air above the scene, it did not have the appearance of being armed but did have a large spherical shape situated on the frontal undercarriage, “smile Edwards were on camera,” at the same time pointing to the Police helicopter.

Colonel Bishop sprinted over to Strayker, “What’s the word sir?”

“As soon as you see the Police holster their weapons and the helicopter clear the space above vacate the scene, take the prisoners to Hesters copse.”

Five minutes later the Bell helicopter along with the OSC team lifted off and headed east.

A Police Inspector approached Strayker, “are you Major General Strayker?”

“I am inspector; I suppose you want a brief on this incident.”

“Would appreciate it sir, I’ve never dealt with an incident like this.”

“Before I do; call the fire brigade through your cordon, they can deal with the vehicle fire.”

Strayker spent five minutes briefing the Police Inspector, leaving out everything bar the fact the two attackers were former army personnel and had already made two attempts on his life, and that they had both died in the engagement.

“But sir I’m sure I saw that they were alive when being put in the helicopter.”

“Inspector things are not always as they seem; I am sure when you check with your bosses this has been cleared, do you understand?”

The inspector paused for a moment’s thought before the penny dropped; “as you say sir; both suspects were killed in the action.”

“Thanks for your cooperation Inspector, now I’ll make my way home.”

Five minutes later Edwards turned the car into Wells road, Bromley; Strayker’s home was a five bedroom, two bathroom period home set in stunning grounds of over one acre with a swimming pool and tennis court, okay

Edward’s pick me up 07:00hrs tomorrow for Hesters copse.” He climbed out of the Range Rover, as he approached the door it was opened by his butler Bentley, “good evening sir.”

“Good evening Bentley, I’ll have dinner in my study tonight.”

“Very good sir; it will be ready in half an hour.”

Bentley took Strayker’s Coat and hat.

Strayker went to his study that had a large picture window looking out on to the grounds at the back; he poured himself a generous helping of a thirty-year old Glenfiddich Single malt Scotch, his taste buds savoured the woody essence, with sweet floral top notes, until the final fading moments of a honeyed finish.

He picked the phone up and dialled the number from memory; ten minutes later he had briefed the Prime Minister, she was now aware that although the suspects were alive for all intense and purpose’s they were dead and that is how all reports and Intel would read.