VIPER 3 - Bad Russian Blood: VIPER, #3

About the author:

David Baker was born in Scotland due to his father serving in the Royal Air Force. After his schooling in the UK, he served an Apprenticeship in engineering, electronics and statistical analysis. He joined a British Police Force in 1982. He was injured in the line of duty and is now retired.

Viper 3 is his third adult Novel;

Viper 1 was released in July 2012 and reached number 1 in the Bestsellers in Men’s adventure Fiction and Lad Literature.

Viper 2 ‘ The Master of Tomorrows Spawn, was released in May 2013 and also reached the top ten Bestsellers in Men’s adventure Fiction and Lad Literature.

He is currently working on VIPER 4.

You can get in touch with David via his website www.davidbakerauthor.com or

Facebook; davidbakerauthor

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Acknowledgements

I would like to thank my lovely wife, Leanne for all her support, ruthless editing and encouragement with this third book. My very good friends Amanda, Ian and my eldest sister Julie for their editing and constructive comments.  To all my family, friends, and colleagues for their support in the marketing of Books 1& 2, Viper & Viper 2 The Master of Tomorrow’s Spawn and their help in putting this third book together.

Thanking Chris for his invaluable advice and helping me get the manuscript into shape for distribution.

Dedicated to Leanne, Charlie and Ashleigh,

Who I love and cherish very much.

Thank You!

‘Black Operations’ involves activities that are highly clandestine

and often outside of the standard intelligence/military protocols.

It involves a significant degree of deception, to conceal who is behind it

or to make it appear that some other entity is entirely responsible.

Welcome to the world of VIPER , an elite black operations squad.

VIPER INVENTORY

Vipers Tactical Helmet

Vipers Tactical suit

Modified UAV

MP5 SD with silencer

Russian Makarov PMM pistol

Mini Uzi

Mini Uzi with folding stock

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M110 Semi-automatic sniper rifle

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XM 2010 silenced rifle

Barrett M107 .50 calibre silenced rifle

Authors Note

Viper 3 is the third book in the series of Viper. All David Baker’s novels are written as standalone books but are equally written to be a continuation of the previous books.

VIPER, a secret Elite ‘Black’ Operations Squad was formed in Margaret Thatcher’s era following the Iranian Siege in London and still continues to this day.

A closely guarded British Secret handed down from one Prime Minister to the next. Operations are sanctioned only by the current serving British PM, through Charles Baker the brain-child and commander of Viper.

This brief synopsis I hope will help you the reader to familiarise yourself again with books 1 & 2 and for readers who have not read them to have an insight of Viper and the operations that has led to this current book. BAD RUSSIAN BLOOD.

VIPER - A secret Elite ‘Black’ Operations squad.

The Vipers are in Cyprus having hunted down their latest prey, two Bosnian Muslim brothers, arms dealers. They have been negotiating the purchase of a radioisotope thermoelectric generator (RTG) unit, complete with a radioactive reactor which can be removed and ground to a dust to make ‘Dirty Bombs’.

The buyer, Abu Karim, the leader of a new Islamic terrorist extremist party ‘Sayed-al-Ghad’ is planning to carry out worldwide attacks on the 10th September using the radioactive waste in body-worn human bombs, to upstage Al-Qaeda from whom this new group’s leader was once attached. With the recent demise of Osama bin Laden, time is of the essence for Abu Karim and now Viper.

This Elite Squad starts striking at its prey, following the sickening and ruthless kidnapping of a fifteen year old girl. Following the dealers to Georgia where the RTG is stored, Viper must prevent the RTG falling into the hands of Evil – At any cost!

‘Viper 2 - The Master of Tomorrows Spawn’. 

A clandestine black operation at its best.

With the recent capture by Viper of Abu Karim, the leader of a new Islamic terrorist extremist party ‘Sayed-al-Ghad’, Viper step back into the shadows; allowing the British Intelligence services to start the operation mop up and subsequent arrests of the other members of this terrorist party.

A rogue senior MI5 officer tips off a personal protection police officer attached to the British Prime Minister, about his imminent arrest.

Saif Mirak is one of the terrorist parties ‘Sleepers’; his mission is to eliminate the PM and he is now on the run.

This new terrorist party has penetrated the heart and soul of the British Police Service and the MI5 Intelligence Agency.

The head of MI5 turns to his old friend Charles Baker the commander of Viper to help him find this MI5 traitor and the PM’s personal protection Police officer.

Viper goes deep undercover; the ramifications of what they find out about this new terrorist party’s plans are far from over, news that shocks not just the British but the Worldwide Security agencies.

The Viper Squad when formed twenty eight years ago, came from all walks of life.

Book 1 also dealt with the formation of the squad between 1980 and 1984. Bearing in mind this book has the descriptions below of the squad when they were seconded, they are a lot older and wiser now.

Charles Baker, aged 40 years old, is the commander of Viper, his brain-child. He was seconded into the British Secret Service at the age of 20 whilst studying at Cambridge University. After graduating he went straight into training. During his very extensive career in the service he worked for MI5 and MI6. He was ordered in by Margaret Thatcher in 1980 to form the unit following the Iranian Siege in London. Which he did in total secrecy over a period of 2 years, with the help of the two godfathers and is a closely guarded British Secret.

The Godfathers, First of all Andy, nickname ‘Biffo’, aged 38 years old, had long curly blonde shoulder length hair pulled back into a ponytail. He had dark menacing eyes like a hawk, and was heavily set. He had worked with Charles Baker on and off for the last twelve years and was formerly a staff sergeant in the S.A.S for ten of these.

James nickname ‘Rhino’ aged 36 years, had short-cropped dark brown hair, a rounded face that bore many lines, short and very stocky he had tree trunk forearms and hands the size of shovels. He spoke with an East-end accent and he was not to be messed with. He had also worked with Charles Baker on and off for the last twelve years and was formerly a staff sergeant in the S.B.S for ten of these.

The Vipers

Peter Webb, Viper 1, aged 21years, 5’ 10" tall with crew cut light brown hair, broad shoulders, and muscular rugby player’s legs. He had piercing slate blue eyes and always appeared to be happy and was always the life and soul of the party. He was a workaholic and had joined the Greater Manchester police in 1982 and had served three years. Within those three years he had been fast tracked onto many courses, he had been head hunted, as were the rest of the squad by Charles Baker. Over the years Peter had become the natural leader of the squad with everyone’s blessing.

Helen McVane, Viper 2, aged 22years 5’ 10" tall, a slender figure, with long legs and broad swimmers shoulders. Her golden blonde hair was cut into a bob; striking facial features, high cheekbones, dark brown eyes nearly black, and a slightly hooked nose. Her skin was like the Mediterranean olive colour that glistened. She had a passion for fitness and the love of art. She was flamboyant, oozed self-confidence and had a natural flirtatious nature.

She worked in Customs and Excise and had done so for 3 years.

Robert Hughes, Viper 3, aged 28 years, 5’ 8" tall, he was slim in stature with curly red hair and an abundance of freckles on his face. He was educated at Eton and spoke ever so far back. He had a natural talent for languages and problem solving. He would spend hours reading wiring manuals and technical specifications and could quote them verbatim. He had the driest sense of humour and it was impossible to work out whether he was joking or not. Only when that twitch on his right side temple gave him away, could they start laughing.

He was working for MI6 and had done so for the past 8 years as a strategic and coordinator analyst.

John Jackson, Viper 4, aged 26years 5’ 6" a broad Glaswegian, stocky build with collar length dark brown thick hair, he was receding on both sides of his temple and was very self-conscious of it. When he smiled he had the best set of pearly white teeth you could imagine, not a space between them. He said he had inherited them from ‘The Scottish Warriors’ He would storm around swearing his head off in a language that you thought was Swahili. He had the funniest sense of humour that was possible and saw the funny side to everything. He had a passion for History, world news, facts and rugby.

He currently worked for the British High Commission and had done so for 5 years.

Constance Alexandrou, Viper 5, aged 29years, 6ft, she was a tall and elegant lady.  She had long jet black hair with a shine that any shampoo advertiser would die for. She had a petite size six waist, a pale complexion and long thin slender hands. The team had nicknamed her Morticia from the Adams family. She was the best martial arts person the squad had ever seen.

Constance had studied all martial arts from the age of five years, had trained all over the world and spent six months in Tibet. Her passion and pastime was collecting the flying martial art stars, the deadly razor sharp pointed stars of different designs.

She currently worked for the Bank of England Audits department and had done so for 10 years.

Philip Jones, Viper 6, aged 22years, 6’ 2" built like a brick ‘out-house’.  He had the build of a prop forward in rugby and was as strong as an ox. He had the mandatory flattened nose, bulging eyebrows as if he had done ten rounds in a boxing ring. To look at him you would say he was in his mid-thirties with greying black hair and crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes.  He spoke with a Cornish accent and his character was like a gentle giant. Unless he lost his temper, he had the patience of a saint but if you pushed the right buttons, then look out.

He had a Master’s degree in Maths, Physics and Chemistry having passed the Maths at the age of 17. He currently worked for the Inland Revenue as a Fraud Investigator and had done so for 2 years.

‘Bad Russian Blood’

Chapter 1

Five minutes earlier Yuri had felt the old North Sea trawler’s engines slow down and he had climbed out of his bunk, pulled on his black padded jacket and lifted his rucksack from the floor pulling it over his left shoulder. 

He had done this trip with Aart many times; a quick phone call to locate where he was berthed, on this occasion he had boarded the trawler in Amsterdam. Within fifteen minutes they were chugging away from the berth heading up the channel towards the port of Ljmuiden and eventually out into the North Sea.

Once out in the open North Sea, Aart had set the course for Lowestoft harbour on the east coast of England. He called down to Yuri who had stowed himself below to join him for coffee and the usual pleasantries were exchanged together with the plain brown envelope containing $2,500 in used notes. 

As Yuri climbed back down into the galley to tuck himself up in his bunk for a rocky nine and a half hour journey, he smiled to himself. Aart was a lovely old boy with white hair, matching white bushy beard, dark knowing eyes that stared deep into your soul and huge leathery hands.

He had never asked any questions of Yuri over the years about his travels in and out of many countries, coastlines and harbours. The price had never changed nor had their short discussions over coffee, which were mostly about the trawler’s temperament and ailments. Aart had restored her single handedly from scratch, he knew every square inch and after so many years Yuri felt he did as well!

It was 3.15am on 17thDecember when Yuri walked from the saloon, up the wooden steps and appeared in the wheel house of the beautifully restored trawler.

Aart was sat at the wheel on the trawler’s bridge surrounded by all the instruments flashing and beeping away. Yuri stared out of the wet windows and saw the driving rain and sleet cascading past the lights on the trawler; shivered as he recognised the harbour lights of Lowestoft and walked over to Aart.  He placed his right hand onto Aart’s left shoulder How long Captain?

We’ve just entered the mouth; I’m taking it slowly today, bloody English weather, I’ll head up to the inner harbour and land her there. There’s plenty of berths this time of year, ten minutes ok?

Perfect a quick coffee and I‘m ready.

He walked over to the silver coffee pot and poured a small cup of the strong Dutch coffee and added four sugars to give him a rush. He looked back at Aart who was manoeuvring his beloved through the now calmer waters of the harbour; after 50 years on the sea he was a well-known character in most Ports on this coast and was never bothered by the authorities.

Yuri felt the engines power down to slow as he placed the cup down, pulled the rucksack onto his back then walked to the wheelhouse door,

See you soon Aart, I’ll do the honours with the rope.

He slid the door to the side and as the freezing cold air hit him in the face, it took his breath away. He pulled his hood up over his head as he slid the door shut behind him. Aart waved to him as Yuri stepped carefully over the wet deck and picked up the neatly curled salty wet rope and carried it to the side of the boat. The wind was blowing hard; he could hear the familiar sound of the metal wires clanking against the yacht masts, and the groaning of the boats rubbing against each other in the swell.

The engines groaned into reverse and the boat gently nudged the harbour wall next to a steel ladder.  He placed the rope over his arm as he climbed the wet cold ladder to the top of the harbour wall, climbed over the parapet, removed the rope and tied it to the steel hoop. He peered down onto the boat and waved at Aart who was now holding the ladder keeping the boat steady, he returned the wave and walked towards the other rope lying on the deck.

Yuri placed his hands into his pockets pulling out a pair of black lycra and rubber gloves, pulled them on and adjusted his hood strings tighter to protect his face against the cold and identification.

Within minutes Yuri made good distance from the harbour as the wind was carrying him along.  He ducked and dived around the cameras until he came to the recently erected metal fencing. Kneeling down he pulled at a section he had snipped on a previous visit, which he had resealed with aluminium tape. It released easily as he pulled it open, placing his rucksack through first, then lay on his back and shuffled through the gap holding the wire up as he did so.

He crouched on the other side pulling the wire back into shape; he pulled from his pocket the roll of oxidized tape and wrapped it around the cut wires, before kicking dirty water from a muddy puddle over the area to help disguise the tape.

Throwing the rucksack on his back, he put his head down and off he walked. Yuri knew exactly where he was going, what lanes and back alleys to take to reach the car park near the bus station. There he would find a red Toyota Yaris, which his friends would have parked for him one day earlier.

The rain had stopped as he popped out of a lane, crossed a main shopping street and entered an alley behind the Anchor Pub. He looked up and viewed the dimly lit alley serviced by a singular bulb in the middle. The smell of rotting food from the rows of grease clad wheelie bins made his stomach churn but he walked on. After only twenty paces he stopped, his sixth sense had kicked in; all the hairs on the back of his neck were stood on end and were silently screaming at him. He lifted his head and surveyed forward.

There were bins on the right covering nearly the length of the alley and on the left about six metres ahead, two recessed doorways close to each other. He turned his head quickly pulling the hood of the jacket down at the same time to check behind him. It was clear and as he turned back to face forward he saw a figure walk slowly from one of the doorways turning to face him.

The light from the bulb shone from behind the figure outlining the form. He could see that it was probably a male about 6ft tall and broadly built, wearing a woollen style hat.

What did catch his eagle eyes was the glint from the blade of a long machete style knife the figure was holding in his left hand down to his side. The figure suddenly stood still facing him and was tapping the blade menacingly against his leg.

A second figure appeared from the doorway and the light illuminated his figure’s side profile, Yuri could see the facial skin colour was of a black origin; this male figure was chubby and was limping. He stood behind figure one and slightly to the right. He was holding what appeared to be a baseball bat and was banging it into