back, they followed Bart and the Asian to an apartment complex in downtown Geneva. Watching from a café across the street, Bart and the Asian returned ten minutes later. The Asian was carrying a rigid Samsonite case and was struggling with its heavy contents.
They followed them back to Rue des Rois. Wade called Kiwi and Jacko and instructed them to make their way to the apartment and do a sweep. He advised Crystal would meet them there and when finished they were all to head back to the Hotel.
Wade entered the rear of the building. He discarded his jacket and hat and made his way down the corridor. The walls and doors, of the diamond cutting house, were plated glass. Coved vinyl floors and an exceptional high level of bright white lighting. Each room had a single fixed stainless steel table, one stool with cutting tools, large magnifying glass and a further light hanging from the ceiling.
The glass walls enabled Wade to confirm that he was alone on this level. Listening for sounds and voices he made his way deeper into the building. At the rear a set of stairs led both up and down. A calculated assumption suggested underground so he headed down; three levels.
The lowest level was a storage area. Boxes lined the walls and a packing table was in each room. The entire area was kept impeccably clean. Wade found a small door concealed in the lift motor room. Entering he found himself in the underground tunnel system and this time he heard voices. Following the sounds, he came upon a small enclave that was being used as an operations room. Bart, the Asian, two guards and a further two suited men, of Arabic appearance, were standing around a table. The case was open and Wade saw one half contained grey uncut diamonds whilst the other had glistening, polished diamonds.
“So Professor, are you offering the uncut or polished version as your down payment?” asked one of the Arabic men, in perfect Queens English.
“Actually Nariz, we are offering both, as a sign of good faith,” replied the smiling Bart.
“Excellent Professor, we appreciate this and when do you want your first shipment?” asked the second Arabic man.
“As you are aware we lost both of our production facilities a few months back, along with Doksal, our man in charge, but Troy and I always had a contingency plan. So if you could arrange delivery to Genoa in six days, I will send through the address. It is important that the Plutonium 239 is undetectable,” replied Bart.
“Understood,” said Nariz as the two men and the guards were escorted, by the Asian, out of the tunnel.
When certain that nobody was in earshot, Bart dialled his mobile phone. “Troy, it’s me. Arabs are paid and we get the plutonium in six days.”
Bart paused as he listened to a response and then continued, “I need two more days to finish emptying the accounts and then Li can get rid of Johansen and Staker. I have finalised the explosives for the Hadron and I was thinking we should probably blow it the day before the delivery in Genoa.”
Another response from Troy and then Bart continued, “I agree and we need to disassociate ourselves from the Wolves … I’ll meet you there at 11.”
Trying to piece the information together Wade waited until Bart and the Asian had left the building and then went on a reconnaissance of the tunnels.
Bart’s Apartment
Kiwi knew how much Crystal meant to Wade so he wasn’t prepared to risk anything happening to her. He had her remain in the café opposite the apartment complex, much to her objection, and watch for unexpected visitors.
Like monkeys, Kiwi and Jacko scaled the back wall climbing downpipes, shutters and balconies. Reaching the third floor they found an unsecured window and entered. Avoiding the cameras, they used the fire stair to the fourth floor and found the apartment.
With no guards evident, Jacko removed his H+K MP5SD 9mm, sound suppressed sub-machine gun, while Kiwi had his ever reliable H+K MK23 pistol. Both men were wearing NVG’s, body armour and had a second weapon, notably a Sig Sauer P226 9mm pistol tucked in their rear waistband.
Using sign language, they approached the door and within four seconds Jacko had opened the electric locking latch and they entered. Leap frogging, they made their way through the apartment, checking every room for movement or body heat detection. Convinced it was all clear they removed their goggles, and using torches, commenced searching for any relevant documentation.
Jacko was searching through boxes on the floor of the second bedroom closet while Kiwi was attempting to remove a ceiling access hatch in the hallway, when the front door burst open.
The two men, having been made aware of intruders by a secret motion activation, exploded through the door firing rapid succession bursts of their Bullpup configured FN P90 silenced machine guns. Kiwi took a round to the leg and one to the abdomen as he fell to the floor. The attackers had covered five of the ten metres separating Kiwi from the door when Kiwi aimed his pistol and shot the closer assailant between the eyes.
The round of the H+K MK23 instantly halted the attacker as he started to fall to his left. The second attacker realising what had happened triggered fully automatic and aimed around his falling partner. The 5.7mm rounds danced across Kiwi’s body armour and one lodged in his right bicep.
With the room now in semi darkness, and as his attacker changed his empty magazine, Kiwi grabbed his dropped pistol with his left hand and fired. Unsure of whether his shots had found their mark, Kiwi felt the energy drain from his body. Jacko burst into the hallway and opened fire with his submachine gun. Certain his target was down Jacko checked outside the apartment door. He turned, as he switched on the light, and immediately became aware of Kiwi’s critical condition.
“Don’t worry bro. I’ll get you out of here,” spluttered Jacko, trying to remain calm.
After years of being confronted with blood, guts and death; Special Forces operatives worldwide become immune to the effects but no matter how hard they try, when it’s one of their own, they falter.
“How bad?” stammered Kiwi.
“You’ll be rap dancing before you know it,” replied Jacko, struggling to keep his composure, knowing his mate was bleeding to death.
Desperately applying compression bandages to his leg and arm whilst trying to hold a field bandage on his stomach, Jacko watched as Kiwi took his last breath.
Closing Kiwi’s eyelids, Jacko knew the mission must go on. He dialled up Colonel Wine and Wade.
“Foxtrot Uniform One to Bravo and Whiskey,” called Jacko.
“Bravo, go ahead,” replied Wine.
“Foxtrot Uniform Two is Delta, I repeat, Foxtrot Uniform Two is Delta, over,” stated Jacko knowing his voice was telling the story.
Wine knew Foxtrot Uniform One was Field Unit 1, Jackson and Field Unit 2 was Kiwi and no Commanding Officer ever wanted to hear that one of his unit was Delta; dead.
The Colonel instructed Jacko to remove Kiwi’s body, ensure nothing was left behind and gave him coordinates to get to. He then rang Forest, explained the situation, upon which Forest arranged collection of Jacko, Kiwi and Crystal. The General then organised a CIA sweep team to cleanse the apartment and leave no trace of any intrusion.
Lake Geneva
In a heavily forested area of Hermance, Switzerland on the shore of Lake Geneva, the CIA had one of their secure locations.
Approaching midnight, Crystal looked across to Jacko, “Do you know if Wade knows yet?” she asked.
“No …. we haven’t made contact,” he replied without lifting his head.
“He’ll take this hard, won’t he?”
“Yeah … he will and God knows what he’ll do,” replied Jacko, this time lifting his head and looking out the window into the darkness with his steely black eyes.
Crystal stood, walked over and put her arms around