Intercept

USMC Photo

"We good?" Wolf was looking over Max's shoulder, watching the feed from the drone hovering near the apartment block where the moneyman was supposedly staying.

"Ya know, we're supposed to have a green strobe on that thing for flying at night, just sayin'." Max looked at Wolf with a grin.

"We'll take care of that right after we register all of these guns and explosives with the British cops."

Max chuckled, then stopped as he sat up straight and began to work the drone's controls. Wolf watched as the picture on Max's laptop zoomed in to focus on three men emerging from the building.

"I think that's our guy. Damn, those Chechens look competent as hell." Max rather wished he was in the field with the two teams Wolf had sent out just before the sun went down.

Fuji sat up when his comms gear buzzed in his ear. He opened the small display and saw a single letter. Turning to his team he said, "Looks like we're in business. Home base saw the package leaving the facility. Max will follow them to give us a good route. MacDonald's intel was good, our boys are heading back to Edinburgh."

Tony started the Ford Transit's engine and waited for instructions, looking down at his navigation display, he asked, "So, think they'll take the M8 to Edinburgh? There are other routes but the M8 is the most direct."

Karl, sitting in the passenger seat of the small van chimed in, "If they don't suspect anything, why not go direct?"

Fuji, after sending an alert to Sally's team, sat in the jump seat behind the driver's position, "If these guys are any good, they'll be damned careful at all times. They might take a longer route, you know, just in case."

"Intel I saw said that these guys have a regular run back and forth between Glasgow and the capital, nine times out of ten they take the M8, the only time they didn't was because of construction last summer. Then they took the long way through Falkirk." Karl had done his homework.

Fuji nodded, "That's what the drone is for, that's why the boss deployed two teams, cover both likely routes. Hey, it's not like this is a really big country, there's maybe ten miles between the two routes at the widest point. Theoretically one team could cover both routes, but we've got both covered without having to stretch things."

Fuji's comms gear buzzed again, he checked the number on the display, "They're on the M8, headed this way. Let's get set up."

Ditmir Hamza was deep in thought as he mindlessly watched the scenery flow by, looking over, he saw that Kishiev was over the speed limit by about ten kph.

"Salavdi, slow down a bit we're in no hurry."

Salavdi Kishiev let up on the accelerator and mumbled, "Megar du."¹

Hamza turned around and shook Abuyazit Aliev's knee, "Wake up Abuyazit! Your snoring is enough to wake the dead."

Aliev grunted and sat up, "Sorry, boss."

Looking to his front Aliev could just make out an overpass, there was a sign beside the road. He was hungry so he asked Hamza, "Think we might stop ahead and get some food?"

Hamza turned to answer, as he did so, something hit the front of the car and it immediately began to lose speed. "What was that?"

Kishiev looked at the panel, he saw that the engine was overheating rapidly, "Damn it, I think we took a rock in the radiator. Something came off the road and hit the motor, that's certain."

Jack "Sally" Fields watched as the expensive car pulled off the road, steam was beginning to issue from under the hood, what the Brits called the bonnet. He swung his scope over to the brush beside the road, he could see the other two members of the team moving up to waylay the occupants of the car.

He saw the lasers come on in his NVGs, saw them move around the vehicle, then come to rest, one on the driver's position, the other on the back seat.

The two muzzle flashes were nearly imperceptible.

The Albanian had struggled briefly before the drug hit his system. In the shock of seeing his bodyguards both die within an instant of each other he had frozen. Not that he was trained for combat after all, some rudimentary instruction with a pistol but that was it. The Chechens were the experts and they had been taken out with barely a sound.

The two men, clad all in black, quickly pulled the Albanian into the brush. Dragging him a couple of hundred yards to a small access road, they found Sally waiting for them. They bundled up the moneyman, immobilizing and gagging him, then put him into the back of the dark blue Volkswagen Caddy.²

They were off, headed towards Falkirk, less than a half hour since Aliev had been awakened by Hamza and criticized for his snoring. Something that would no longer be a problem. For anyone.

"Bloody hell, Mac. The police are onto a shooting scene on the M8, just outside of Whitburn. Two dead men, drugs scattered about the inside of the car, one man in front, one in the back. Fellow in the back had a tenner nailed to his forehead. I mean literally nailed."

Gordon put the phone down and began to head for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Talk to Wolf, this is far too visible, we don't want the police to start ..."

"Start what? Looking for drug dealers who killed two men on the M8? We wanted the Chechens dead, right? I mean that was your bloody idea, send a message and all that."

Gordon stopped, "Well, I guess I just hadn't expected ..."

"Hadn't expected what? That Wolf would be that creative? What were you expecting, two dead Chechens delivered to the Chinese Consulate? Keep it out of the papers?"

Gordon sat down and rubbed his hands over his face, "Bloody hell, I suppose you're right, Mac. But this Wolf fellow ..."

"Knows his business and his people are very effective. I think the Chinese will get the message, after all, they do read the Telegraph don't they? The paper will say 'drug deal gone bad,' the Chinese will know better."

Gordon shook his head, "When can we expect the moneyman to get here?"

"I talked to Wolf, he said within the hour."

"Does the fellow speak English?"

"Yes, he does, and I'm sure he'll pretend not to, I'm sure Mr. Wolf can get him talking."

"I'd hate to be in that bastard's shoes." Gordon muttered.

MacDonald smiled, "Quite."

¹ Chechen for "alright." (мегар ду)

² A compact panel van manufactured by the Volkswagen Group beginning in 1979.