Tidal Rage David Evans (novels for teenagers .txt) 📖

those in the tunnel, but the initial explosion and cracking of the tree was audible for a couple of kilometres. The tree crashed onto the two lanes on the offside traffic. It landed on a Volkswagen Passat, with immediate fatal injuries delivered to the driver and passenger. Three other cars screamed to a halt behind the Volkswagen, each with their fenders bumped or split by the slight collisions.

The first phase of the plan had been completed; the outside traffic had been stopped, and their view of the other carriageway was blocked. They were also too busy trying to exit their vehicles. Friedman saw a young woman of no more than twenty-two putting her mobile phone to her ear, apparently to call emergency services. The C14 Timberwolf rifle spat the bullet out silently that a millisecond later exited the back of the young woman’s head. She was dead before she hit the ground. The drivers and passengers who witnessed this dove for cover, and as far as Friedman could tell, no one else had a mobile phone or dared to put one to their ear.

The first police car exited the tunnel, followed closely by the prison transport van, and thirty metres away the second police vehicle.

Bauer targeted the lead vehicle. He raised the Barrett XM109 semi-automatic 25mm grenade launcher. The grenade hit the side of the first police car, blowing it sideways across both lanes of the carriageway. One of the policemen was dead on impact; the other had lost both his lower limbs and did not pose a threat.

The prison transport van screeched to a halt and simultaneously Jager and Gottschalk fired. The firing sequence was the tried and tested double tap; two rapid presses on the trigger and their victim received one kill shot and one for insurance.

Jager took out the driver of the prison transport van, and just as the thought process of the second guard sprang to life, his brain became scrambled egg as the double tap hit him between the eyes. Gottschalk went through the same process with the police driver. But when he attempted to double tap his colleague, the German Blaser R93 tactical sniper rifle had a blockage; the ammunition was faulty. The second officer reached for the fixed car radio, and just as he was about to report the incident, the back windscreen was splattered with blood and brain tissue. Friedman had been covering 300 metres further down the road and realized the second officer was still alive and his training took over. Two shots in succession and the second policeman was no more. That quick.

The whole operation, from the first patrol car exiting to Werner being removed from the prison transport van, had lasted less than twenty seconds. All three snipers were known to Werner, and had run to release Werner, while Friedman covered their operation from his hide.

Heidi and Klaus emerged from the tunnel and ran towards the group excitedly. Just as planned, Friedman dropped both as they reached Bauer. Jager and Bauer lifted them unceremoniously into the back of the prison van as they headed off toward the car. Just before they went over a small knoll to their vehicle and joined Friedman, Bauer turned and fired a grenade into the van. The explosion was loud, and the inferno intense.

“Shame; I liked them,” Bauer said.

Werner placed the small shaver-like voice resonator to his throat and spoke in his robotic voice.

“Bauer drop off these three at the nearest station. They should have their passports with them as I ordered.”

“Yes, Herr Werner, they have come prepared.”

“I want you three to take the next flight to London; you will find the address in London where I have arranged for you to pick up some weapons. Leave your guns in the car, and Bauer and I will ensure safe storage,” Werner strained to say in his metallic voice.

Werner then led Bauer to one side. “You are to drive with me down to Turkey. For this, you will need to purchase a campervan. Once there, I have arranged for a close security team to take over my protection, as I have other things for you to do, Bauer.”

 

Chapter Twenty

Judge Norman Freeman had known Cutler for seven years; the judge was a prosecutor for one of the counterfeit cases Cutler had previously worked on. The counterfeit gang from Portland had abducted the prosecutor’s niece as leverage. Cutler had mapped out all the group members and their hideouts. He had assisted the police in identifying who would be responsible, and where they may well be. The remnants of the band, those that had not been prosecuted, were the lower tier gang members. Their brightest and best were on trial.

Two days later they had identified the property, and Cutler had gone with the local police to rescue the girl. When they had forced entrance there were two gang members there; one was watching baseball on television, and the other was trying to assault the courageous young girl. The couch potato was arrested with no injuries and gave up readily, surrounded by the armed police officers. The second assailant, of Hispanic descent, kept the girl as a human shield over an hour. She was battered and bruised, but had barely, just barely, avoided being raped. He did not get off so lightly after he gave up, the police officers left Cutler with him in the room for five minutes. Cutler broke his jaw and his arm and stamped so hard on his testicles that his sperm count was dramatically reduced for life.

A year later, prosecutor Norman Freeman was invited to be a judge. He never forgot Cutler’s help, and for a man with few friends, classed Cutler up there with the best.

Robert Stahmer had employed a local attorney to draw up the subpoena warrant for the ring based on the open evidence on the shipyard’s database and backed up