3
Piccadilly Circus
City of Westminster, London
Lat = 51 degrees, 30.6 minutes North
Long = 0 degrees, 8.1 minutes West
Saturday 5th August 1989 (The following day)
Twenty-three thirty-nine hours BST
Piccadilly Circus is a road junction and public space of London’s West End in the City of Westminster, built in 1819 to connect Regent Street with the major shopping street of Piccadilly.
The evening’s weather had started pleasantly with some glorious sunshine; half an hour ago, a short sharp shower had hammered down for several minutes creating a humid atmosphere.
Approaching the junction from Shaftsbury Avenue was a Black Ford Sierra Cosworth RS-500, being driven by Ruth Nelson with her passenger and lover Max Storm.
Ruth was twenty-five years of age with her twenty-sixth birthday coming up in October.
She had been educated at The Raphael Independent School Hornchurch, and had left at seventeen years of age with nine ‘A’ levels.
She had taken up a post-graduate journalism course with The National Council for the Training of Journalists.
Ruth was tall for a female five foot eleven with red hair that denoted her fiery spirit. Her figure was slim with lively well-rounded breasts and a nice pert bum; she was not the sort of girl you failed to notice.
Eighteen months previously, whilst working as a high profile reporter she had witnessed a gun battle in Bromley Kent, when two men had targeted Major General Strayker.
This had resulted in an OSC unit intervening in a helicopter quickly followed by Police units resulting in a Mexican style standoff between the Police and OSC.
This incident had resulted in a news blackout; however, Ruth decided to investigate this apparently new-armed military unit. Subsequently she had followed Strayker to Saltbox Hill near Biggin Hill, the secret location for ICIS Intelligence Collating Information Services.
She had been tranquilized from a rifle shot; and when she had awoken, she found herself in a cell.
Ruth had been offered a deal to quit her current position and join the OSC as their press envoy, a deal that she had accepted.
A strong bond had grown between Max and Ruth over the coming months, with two occasions when Ruth had been abducted by groups targeted by the OSC.
Max Storm was the operational leader of the OSC operational code name Eagle 3, a former Royal Marine commando and special boat service (SBS) soldier.
He stood six feet tall, aged twenty-five with sweptback jet-black hair, his eyes were black an inheritance from his mother whom had been a native of Puerto Rico and he weighed in at one hundred and eighty-two pounds.
The cars headlights picked up the famous statue of Eros that was centrally located at the junction and was the first in the world to be cast in aluminium and set on a bronze fountain.
As Ruth brought the car into the junction, numerous illuminated Neon signs were displaying advertisements for a number of famous companies and their products.
“So what’s your verdict on the show Max?”
“Must admit Ruth; I thought I would be bored, but I thoroughly enjoyed it.”
They had both spent the evening at a nearby West End theatre watching the musical show called CATS.
“I told you would like it darling.”
“Yes; as usual you are right in knowing me better than I know myself.”
Ruth negotiated the junction and accelerated along Piccadilly heading towards Hyde Park Corner.
Max said, “It was amazing how the show was virtually completely told through music with virtually no spoken dialogue in between the songs.”
Ruth replied, “And that dance scene the Jellicle Ball dance sequence must have lasted ten minutes!”
Before Max could reply a large black Chrysler car overtook them at high speed, Max’s keen eyesight clocked the number plate as the car cut back in front of them as 270 D 101.
“That’s a U.S. Diplomatic car.”
Before anything else could be said, another vehicle a dark green Range Rover overtook them at speed cutting in tightly on Ruth’s car, forcing her to brake hard.
The all-round disc brakes with ABS on the two hundred and twenty-four brake horsepower two-litre engine brought the car to a complete stop in no time at all, on the slippery road surface.
Ruth shouted at the driver of the Range Rover, “You bloody idiot, where did you learn to drive Beirut?”
Max’s military mind had been jolted back into action, “get after them darling, something’s not right.”
Ruth slipped the car into first gear and floored the accelerator the drive wheels momentarily lost traction on the wet surface before they attained grip catapulting the vehicle rapidly off in pursuit of the two vehicles now a quarter of a mile ahead and approaching Hyde Park corner.
Her Cosworth was one of only five hundred that had been produced; this was to meet the minimum number of road-going cars required, meeting with approved racing rules.
This allowed it to compete in certain motor racing competitions. With a top speed of one hundred and fifty four miles per hour, zero to sixty miles per hour in five point eight seconds it was one of the fastest production cars about.
Max reached into the glove box and retrieved his Glock-19 and jammed a magazine into the handle, and then pulled the slide back engaging the first round.
He also pulled out an OSC Codetta radio; the transmissions were routed through the OSC’s satellite Eagle Eye, cloaked via a complex encoded enigma, and were only able to be translated at ICIS.
Max turned the radio on and said, “Tell me that I did put my kit bag in the boot before we came out Ruth?”
Ruth had been concentrating intently on the pursuit and said, “Yes darling, now let me concentrate?”
Ruth entered the large roundabout on Hyde Park corner and she began to negotiate it.
Hyde Park Corner is a place in London, which is at the southeast corner of Hyde Park. It is a major intersection where Park Lane, Knightsbridge, Piccadilly, Grosvenor Place and Constitution Hill all converge.
As they sped around the large roundabout, Max looked up at the large equestrian statue of The Angel of Peace descending on the Quadriga of Victory, placed on the top of Constitution Arch or as it is often referred to as Wellington Arch.
What very few people were aware of was that within Wellington Arch was the second smallest police station in the world.
The two vehicles in front were now entering Park Lane when both Max and Ruth observed bright flashes coming from the Range Rover.
Max immediately said, “That’s gunfire the embassy vehicle is under attack!”