Action Man: The Greatest Hero of Them All

[Sundance]

Smith studied the service record of the soldier he’d come to speak to once more. Alex Mann was twenty-eight and a member of the SAS Regiment’s Counter-Revolutionary Warfare wing. He’d joined up at eighteen, volunteering for the P Company selection course for the Parachute Regiment straight out of basic training. After passing with flying colours he’d been assigned to 2 Para and proved and excellent marksman.

Sniper school had beckoned and he’d passed as one of the best in the Parachute Regiment. After four years, and two combat tours of duty, Alex had been promoted to Lance Corporal and volunteered for SAS selection. He’d passed, but not as well as he’d passed P Company. Initially assigned to the Boat Troop, he’d qualified as a frogman and swimmer-canoeist. Following a promotion to Corporal and two more overseas deployments, he’d transferred to the CRW wing. He’d recently made Sergeant and was seen as a prospect for further promotion. He’d also trained in demolitions and learned to fly helicopters with the Joint Special Forces Aviation Wing. He spoke Russian, but couldn’t read it, and had a working knowledge of both Ukrainian and Polish as well as secondary school level Spanish.

Smith closed the manila folder and looked at Colonel Braddock. The soldier returned the other man’s gaze, but said nothing. Smith knew his average build, average height and non-descript looks made his career obvious to a Special Forces soldier. The cheap, anonymous suit probably didn’t help.

There was a knock at the door and Braddock called, “Come in.”

Sergeant Mann entered and saluted. Smith looked him over. He was 6’ 2 tall, with short dark hair and piercing blue eyes. Not overly muscular, he was still in good shape. A small scar marked his right cheek.

Braddock returned the salute and stood. “Sergeant, this is Mister Smith. He’s here to make a pitch to you. I’ll be outside.”

Alex looked Smith over with naked curiosity. “Sit down, Sergeant,” Smith said.

The younger man sat, still evaluating the stranger.

“I’m putting together a special team,” Smith began.

“With special privileges?” Alex interrupted.

“No. Why?”

“Never mind.”

Smith frowned, but carried on with the spiel he’d used successfully with the other five volunteers. “We’re looking to recruit the best soldiers we can to form a small, elite covert unit. Your name’s come up on an extremely short list. Interested?”

“What kind of unit is this?” Alex asked. “The sass are the best there is.”

Smith snorted. “Yeah, that’s what the guy we recruited from the SBS said about them.” He gave Alex a long look before continuing. “It’s a covert anti-terror unit. Extremely black. We’re talking so secret it doesn’t even have an official name. Some wise guy called it the ‘Action Man’ programme and the name’s stuck, unofficially.”

“How many others are involved?”

“Six. One woman we’ve recruited from SIS, three Royal Marines, and one SBS. Oh, and you.”

Alex seemed to be thinking it over. Smith waited. He imagined he knew the other man was considering his future with the SAS, including that promotion.

“Okay,” Alex said after a few moments, “I’m in.”

Smith smiled. “Good.”

Three days later, Alex was delivered to a facility outside London in a blacked-out van. He climbed out of the van into a parking garage to see five other people waiting with Smith. The first to catch his attention was the beautiful woman standing near to Smith.

‘She looks like she can break hearts and break necks,’ Alex thought to himself.

The woman was around 5 feet 10 tall, with long brown hair and alluring her curves her skinny jeans and close-fitting T-shirt did nothing to hide. She introduced herself to the group as ‘Natalie’. Smith informed them she was from the Secret Intelligence Service.

Alex managed to tear his eyes off her as the three men standing opposite him introduced themselves. The first was 6 foot tall, with short brown hair, brown eyes and a nose that had clearly been broken and not set properly. He introduced himself as Jack. His jeans and casual blue shirt didn’t hide his muscles. He looked like Rugby front-row forward.

The second man, who was slightly taller and leaner, had blonde hair and blue eyes. He introduced himself as Joe. He wore a denim jacket, black sweatshirt and tan coloured cargo trousers.

The third man had black close-cropped hair, stubble and grey eyes. He was shorter than the other two and had an intense expression. He looked like a boxer. He introduced himself as John.

Smith announced they were all Royal Marines. The final man Smith introduced as a member of the SBS. He had close-cropped ginger hair and stubble. He looked extremely serious. He only said his name was Mack.

Alex introduced himself as ‘Alex’ and Smith informed the others he was SAS.

The mysterious man led the group into an elevator and they rode down three levels where Smith took them into an operations room manned by several men and women. Smith strode over to a workstation where he worked for a moment before two photos appeared on one of the flat-screen monitors on the wall.

“These are your primary targets we’ve recruited you to go after. No-Face, a master of disguise assassin and Doctor X, he’s East European, possibly ex-Soviet Army. Bio and chemical weapon expert. Thought to have aided that Japanese loony cult in getting hold of the Sarin gas that they used on Tokyo’s subway back in ’95. Also linked to various Mid-Eastern Islamic extremist groups.”

Alex looked at the two photos; No-Face’s photo was of a bearded man wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses. It was no use in trying to ID him. The photo of Doctor X showed a middle-aged man with a large scar across his left cheek and a goatee beard. He was practically bald and had a hard look to his face.

““Uh, Sir?” Jack interrupted.

“Yeah, what is it, son?” Smith asked.

“How can we trust you? I’ve seen movies. You get a group together, make ‘em think they’re doing right and turns out they’re getting conned.”

Alex smirked at the question. Smith didn’t.

“Son, don’t mess with me. This is serious.”

“Mister Smith?” Natalie interrupted. “If you’ll allow me?”

Smith gave her a wave to carry on.

“No Face is wanted by SIS, the CIA, FSB, BND and half the noodles in a can of alphabet soup. The Russians think he was behind the murder of a senior general in Chechnya in the late 90s. CIA and FBI want him for the disappearance of CIA operators in Iraq in 2004. We at SIS think he killed at least two of our officers in Afghanistan last year. The Bundesnachrichtendienst think he was connected to the Stasi and want to know where some of the old East German Secret Police went when the wall fell,” Natalie explained.

She turned her attention to Doctor X. “Doctor X is believed to be an ex-Soviet scientist. His real name’s practically unpronounceable. He’s also wanted by the CIA and SIS because of his links to Islamic terror groups. Besides his chemical and biological weapons expertise, he’s also a cybernetics expert and is believed to have been aiding the Iranians in creating battlefield robots.”

Natalie turned to Jack. “Happy now?”

“How do I know you’re not a plant?”

“C’mon man, you’re being silly now,” Joe said.

“I think he’s been watching Alias too much,” Alex commented. “He ought to watch The Unit.”

Mack and Joe laughed at that.

Smith cleared his throat, drawing the group’s attention. “As I said, those are your primary targets. There are others, but they’re of lower priority.”

Over the next three days, the group spent a lot of time proving their skills to each other. Alex soon found Mack was determined to out-do him, although he couldn’t match Alex’s skill with the sniper rifle. Natalie consistently out-shot the three Marines with the assault rifles and sub-machine guns; whilst Alex and Mack were more level pegging. Joe proved to be a capable martial artist and hand-to-hand fighter, with John his only real contender. Jack had the highest strength levels, able to lift more weights and last longer than the others while pumping iron.

Alex confided to Joe that he thought Mack was taking it too seriously.

“He seems to think he can out-do us all,” Alex added.

“Well, he’s out-doing most of us most of the time,” Joe answered.

“Yeah, but I care more about how he acts when the cack hits the fan in a real fire-fight, you know?” Alex answered. “I wanna know I can trust the guy to have my back.”

Joe nodded, “I know what you mean.”

Finally, Smith gave the team their first assignment.

The group assembled in the briefing room.

“No doubt you’ve all seen the news,” Smith began. “The Home Secretary’s sister and her husband kidnapped from an ocean liner sailing from Madagascar to the Maldives. Two hostages taken with them, escaped. Rescued from the sea by a US Navy helicopter. Two hostages and two US Marines killed trying to rescue the hostages. Three more Marines injured. Hostages now in Somalia.”

Everyone listened intently.

“Officially, as per SOP, we don’t negotiate with terrorists and hostage takers. Unofficially, the Prime Minister wants them rescued. That’s where you come in.”

“Plausible deniability,” John said. “We don’t exist.”

“So we go in instead of the sass or the SBS,” Joe added.

“Because they’d be seen as an invading military force,” Alex put in.

“Precisely,” Smith said. “CIA has unmanned recon birds over Somalia a lot. They managed to spot the hostages being taken off a boat in Ceel Huur on the Somali coast. They were put on a truck which a US spy satellite tracked to a bombed out village several miles inland.”

Smith looked at Natalie and Alex. “Alex, Natalie, I want you studying the satellite imagery and working out an ingress and egress route and an attack plan. We’re working on getting UAV cover of the village to give you more intel.”

The older man turned his attention to Jack and Joe. “Joe, Jack, I want you to come up with a list of kit you want to take on the op. Give it to me and I’ll get one of our back-up crew on it.”

“Mack, John,” Smith went on. “You’re on logistics. I want you working out how you get out to Somalia and how you’re going to get out.”

Smith looked around the group. “Alright, clock’s running, get to it, people!”

An hour later, Alex and Natalie were poring over maps of the region, satellite images and studying the UAV footage.

“So,” Natalie suddenly said. “What’s your story?”

“What do you mean?” Alex asked, trying to concentrate on studying the rough track the truck had followed.

“Smith said you’re SAS. You’re a crack sniper. What else is there in your background?”

“I don’t know how much were supposed to say,” Alex replied as he turned his attention to the UAV footage. “I joined up at 18. Served with 2 Para. Two combat tours. Promoted to Lance Corporal. Volunteered for the sass. Trained with Boat Troop. Did a couple more tours overseas. Switched to the anti-terror wing.”

Natalie nodded. “Impressive. I served with the Intelligence Corps for two years, including an overseas tour. Switched to the SRR where I stayed until I was recruited by MI6. I think Smith recruited me because he needed someone in the group who was trained for espionage as well as direct action.”

Alex shrugged. “Possibly.”

He squinted at the screen and then said, “Okay, looks like the truck travelled five miles north-west of Ceel Huur. The village is pretty beat up, but there’s at least nine intact wooden buildings which appear to be barracks. There’s an intact building on the eastern side of the road. Large. Looks mostly intact. Probably their HQ building. There’s a few other buildings in the northwest corner, including one with a radio mast on top. Guess it’s a commo bunker. Satellite photos show the truck stopping at a building near it, which I presume to be the local jail.”

Natalie looked over the images herself. “I agree. We insert into Somalia via Ceel Huur. Get transport to the village and then split the team in to groups.”

Indicating a path through the ruins, she said went on, “Alpha team moves to the HQ building and secure it. Charlie team bypass the HQ and move around to the radio bunker from the east. Bravo move through the ruins on the west, make sure no one pops out of the barracks and these buildings before we RV at the cells.”

Alex followed her plan. “Sounds good to me.”

After briefing the rest of the team on the plan, Alex and Natalie turned the briefing over to Jack and Joe.

“We’ve determined our best bet is to use minimal kit and to move fast. We recommend body armour and helmets for all team-members. NV sights and sub-machine guns. Joe is a trained medic so he’ll take the medical kit. Everyone else just takes minimum rations and plenty of ammo,” Jack explained.

“For weapons, we suggest sub-machine guns and a side-arm pistol,” Joe added. “Plus a couple of hand grenades each.”

“Sounds fine so far,” Smith said. “Mack?”

Mack stood up. “We’ve planned for us to fly out to Kenya on a regular flight to the training centre out there. From Kenya, we hop a helo out to the Royal Navy warship operating with Task Force 151 in the Arabian Sea. Once afloat, we then board a Merlin helicopter for insertion via Zodiac boat.”

“Well, let’s get it sorted out, then.” Smith stood up. “Well done.”

In the armoury, several minutes later, Smith showed the commandos a rack of weapons.

“We’ve got good old MP-5s, newer UMPs, and the MP-7s as well as Uzis, Skorpions, a few Daewoo K7s, and some of the Russian PP-2000s. Oh, yeah, a few MAC-10s and 11s, too.”

The three Royal Marines immediately picked up MP5s.

“Ah, the good old L91A1…” John said fondly. “I love this weapon.”

“I shouldn’t call it that,” Smith said. “It’s a bit too obviously British. Try to get used to calling it the MP5.”

Alex selected the UMP, whilst Natalie took an Uzi. Mack selected the MP7.

Smith waved to another rack in the armoury. “We’ve also got SA-80s, M-16s, M-4s, AK-47s, G36s, Steyr AUGs and FAMAS F1s and a few P90s.”

He turned to a locker on the far wall. “And finally, the pistols. Brownings, Colt M1911s, Desert Eagles, Makarovs and P226s.”

Each of the group selected the Browning pistol. They moved out to another room where a quartermaster kitted them out with Osprey body armour, helmets, radios and backpacks for their rations. Joe collected a medical kit from the infirmary and they headed up to the garage where they found an SUV waiting for them.

RAF Brize Norton

The group of commandos left the SUV at the airfield and headed into the terminal building. Alex took the lead as John said, “Where’d we go for this flight?”

Alex picked his way through knots of soldiers heading out to Kenya on a training exercise and soon approached an attractive brunette in an RAF uniform.

Natalie watched as the SAS trooper hugged the woman and kissed her cheek. The woman was smiling as Alex spoke to her, but she and the other four had stopped too far away to hear their conversation of the general hubbub in the terminal.

Joe looked at Natalie’s icy expression. “Not jealous are we?” he asked.

“Hardly,” the woman replied, icicles clinging to every word. The woman kissed Alex passionately before he broke the kiss and moved away.

Joe looked at Natalie’s expression. No, he decided, she wasn’t remotely jealous. Not with a face that could curdle milk at fifty paces.

John caught up to Alex as he led them through the terminal.

“Wow, mate, who’s that hottie?”

“Ex-girlfriend,” Alex answered. He shrugged. “She’s still carrying a torch for me.”

John frowned, “Why the hell would you break up with a babe like that?”

“We started dating a few years back,” Alex explained. “I had to cancel two dates on the bounce due to rush deployments. I didn’t like lying to Alison or having to break dates. So I broke it off. She still loves me, though.”

The group soon arrived at the gate for the RAF flight to Kenya. As they entered the aircraft, a petite blonde RAF woman stopped them.

“Excuse me,” she began politely. “We’re only taking on troops from the Royal Welch for the flight to Kenya.”

Alex smiled back, “Sorry, ma’am, we’re late additions to the passenger list.” He turned back to look at Mack.

“We’re listed as…” he hesitated.

“Captain Rogers, Captain Danvers, Sergeant-Major Blake, Sergeant Barton, Sergeant Williams and Corporal Stark,” Mack interjected.

Alex smiled again as the woman checked the passenger manifest. She scanned through two pages before she saw the list of names and a code, which she recognised, as designating a Special Forces mission. She looked up at Alex.

“I’m sorry, Captain. Please, carry on.” The woman snapped to attention and saluted. Alex returned the salute before leading the soldiers to the back row of seats.

As the soldiers stowed their bags in the overhead, Jack said, “I can’t believe you used the names of members of The Avengers.”

Mack laughed, “Oh, you got that did you?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I was going to use the names of the guys from The Unit,” Mack explained. “But I realised that wasn’t a good idea with my name.”

“Yeah, but Mack’s name is his first name,” Alex said. “Or is it your first name too?”

“No, it’s my surname,” Mack answered. “My first name is Ignatius.”

“Ignatius?” Joe asked. “Did your parents hate you or something?”

“Don’t ask me,” Mack answered as he took the window seat. “But if anyone ever calls me that, I will break his fingers.”

“Okay, Iggy,” John said.

“Call me anything other than Mack or Sergeant and I will break your fingers,” Mack warned him.

“Okay, okay.”

“Haven’t you got a middle name?” Alex asked. “Something better?”

“My middle name’s Simeon.”

“Jesus, your parents must really hate you,” Jack commented.

The soldiers settled into their seats as the regular infantry troops began boarding the plane.

Kenya
Several hours later

As soon as the RAF airliner touched down, the commandos were on their feet, retrieving their bags and heading down the aisle. The brunette stewardess met them near the door.

“You ought to stay in your seats until we finish taxiing,” she said.

“Sorry, but we’re on a tight schedule and have another flight to meet,” Mack said as he opened the door.

As soon as the air stairs had been moved in to place, Mack bounded down them with Alex and Natalie on his heels. John, however, lingered.

“Listen, I’m sorry about the problems we’ve caused you, ma’am. I don’t suppose I could get your mobile number and take you out to lunch after we’ve finished out errand down here as a way of apologising?”

Joe stuck his head back in the plane’s door. “Oi, shake a leg, mate. The Merlin’s here. We don’ wanna have to bloody walk.”

The stewardess smiled as John glowered at his comrade and reluctantly followed him out the door.

By the time John reached the Merlin, most of the others had grabbed seats and were strapping in. As soon as John was seated, the loadmaster gave the pilot the all clear to take off, before making sure the Marine was strapped in.

After the loadmaster had sat down, Alex looked around at the rest of the group.

“Lovely country, Kenya. Shame we didn’t get to stay longer.”

“You’ve been here before, then?” Jack commented.

“Yeah, few years back for the Regiment.”

“A mission, in Kenya?” John asked doubtfully. “The place is hardly a hot-bed of terrorist activity.”

Alex laughed as he moved the intercom headset to scratch his nose before carrying on. “No, we were sent in because there were problems with Somalis who’d crossed the border in to the North Eastern Province. They were trapping and killing rhinos and elephants that are on the endangered list. The locals were having a hell of a time tracking and capturing them. So someone in their defence ministry asked the MOD in London for help. They tasked it to UKSF and I was one of a four-man team picked to go down as I was one of the best snipers. One of the other guys was this Ghurkha who is still in the Regiment and he’s a freaky good tracker. Swear, the bloke could find a cotton bud in an avalanche. Any way, he took point and we followed him around for four days tracking these scumbags.”

Alex paused to make eye contact with everyone, they were raptly listening.

“So, we find this trap they’d set up and we got this Kenyan guy to help us dig four shallow pits and cover us over. He bugged out and we lay there, breathing through straws, listening with small mics poking out the dirt. Eight hours we were there before they came back. Caught them on the mics talking about trapping the animals and everything.”

“So what happened?” the loadmaster asked.

Alex grinned, “We popped up out of the ground. Frightened the life out them, one guy literally peed his pants. One of them went to raise his Kalashnikov, so I slotted him. Took the other three alive.”

Alex laughed again, “We ended up in a bar for the next seven hours as the wardens kept buying us drinks before we finally got away. The Somalis got chucked in the slammer for a twenty-stretch.”

As everyone laughed, Jack asked, “Doesn’t it bother you that you were brought in on a police matter?”

Alex shook his head, “No. Why should it? They were going to sell the animal parts to buy more guns and ammo to cause more trouble in Somalia. We stopped them. Besides, me mum loves elephants and when I told her I’d been to Kenya to stop people killing them, she said it was a shame we din’t whack all four of them.”

HMS Westminster
Somewhere in the Arabian Sea

After the Merlin helicopter landed on board the Royal Navy warship, the commandos were met by the captain, Commander Peters, who led them to the wardroom. Once there, Alex and Natalie briefed the commander on the mission.

Peters arranged for them to be given a meal whilst the Merlin was refuelled and they waited for nightfall.

The six soldiers ate in silence, concentrating on the meal. After the mess stewards cleared away the plates, Alex said, “Weapons cleaning. I don’t want anyone getting killed because he had a jam or something.”

Again in silence, each soldier stripped, cleaned and reassembled the pistol and sub-machine gun.

As the sun set, the captain returned with the helicopter flight crew.

Natalie briefed them whilst the rest of the team began donning their Osprey body armour.

Once the crew had departed, with the Loadmaster heading off to arrange for the Zodiac boat to be loaded aboard the Merlin, Natalie donned her own armour. The troops were wearing black fatigues and combat boots, the body armour with grenades and ammo tucked into pouches on the waist, helmets and finally night-vision goggles. Each also carried a small lightweight backpack. Inside the bag were a single ration pack, a water canteen and a medical kit. Joe, as the designated medic, carried a larger medical kit, but the others all had one with a few dressings, painkillers and bandages in.

“We better check out the IFF gear,” John said as they collected their weapons.

Alex nodded, “Good point, get the lights.”

John flicked off the wardroom lights and each soldier activated their NVGs and then reached around to the back of their helmets and flicked on a small infrared laser. They produced a vivid beam of light invisible to the naked eye, but clearly seen in the soldiers’ night-vision gear. The British Army was trialing the use of lasers on troops’ helmets as a means of identifying friendly forces in combat. Early experiments had also shown they were useful for allowing separated groups to find one another to regroup.

Alex flicked off his laser before saying, “Alright, put the lights on and your goggles off. Let’s get out to the chopper.”

Once they were out on the helicopter deck, the Loadmaster oversaw them getting seated, and making sure the Zodiac was secure once more. Then the Merlin took off and headed west at low altitude.

The helicopter ride passed in silence until, finally, the loadmaster suddenly nodded and activated his intercom headset and announced “Five minutes!”

Alex nodded, pulled off his headset and held up his hand to the others who weren’t wearing intercoms. They all unstrapped themselves and moved to the Zodiac. Mack took the tiller-control seat, with Alex next to him as his assistant coxswain. The other four took the front two rows of seats, leaning low in the boat.

The helicopter finally reached the drop-off point, ten miles from the Somali coast. It slowly descended to the surface of the sea. The loadmaster dropped the ramp and then gave the Zodiac a shove out into the water. As soon as it was clear, Mack started the engine and sped the boat clear of the helicopter, which lifted clear before rotating and speeding east.

The Arabian Sea was choppy and the Zodiac bounced as it raced toward the coast. By the time the team reached the Somali coast, Mack had throttled back and they drifted in on the tide. After quickly hiding the Zodiac under a rotting pier, the commandos activated their NVGs and their IFF lasers and sprinted through Ceel Huur until they found a convenient lorry. John took the driver’s seat, with Alex and Joe next to him, while the others rode in the empty open bed at the back.

Once the lorry was clear of Ceel Huur, John opened the throttle and they sped northwest along the rough road.

The truck reached the outskirts of the bombed-out village and the commandos dismounted. The team quickly split into the three two man teams and moved out.

Alex and Joe ran though the ruins of a building and headed for the headquarters building as Mack and John ran further north.

On the western side of the village, Natalie and Jack were creeping past a wall that was all that remained of a flattened building when a Somali spotted them and shouted. Natalie swiftly dropped the Somali with a three-round burst from her Uzi. More shouts filled the air and several Somalis came running. The two commandos opened fire.

Alex and Joe were close to the headquarters building when the firefight erupted. A guard near the back of the building spotted them and opened fire with his AK-47. Joe dropped him with a quick burst from his MP5.

Mack and John dodged through a ruined building before running into a gang of Somalis standing around a fire in an oil drum, smoking. The two commandos opened fire, before they could even reach their rifles.

Natalie and Jack dashed around a ruined building, firing as more Somalis poured from the wooden barracks buildings. Natalie threw one of her grenades and several Somalis were sent flying by the explosion.

Alex wasn’t even breathing hard as he eased open the small door to the headquarters building and slipped inside. Joe was close behind him as the sergeant crept forward. He was halfway along the narrow corridor when two Somalis walked out of a room. Alex shot both with two bursts from his UMP, but more of the gunmen came out of the door. Alex shot them before moving in.

Joe moved past him and fired at several gunmen standing around a map spread across a table. Alex shot a gunman diving toward the door on the other side of the room.

Natalie and Jack had back up into the corner of two walls that were all that was left of a building. Both had used their grenades up, with two burning barracks-blocks attesting to the fact. A heavy machine gun was blazing away from across the street.

Natalie clicked on her radio. “Bravo-2 to Alpha, we’re pinned down near the crossroads north of the HQ building. There’s a goddamn fifty-cal out there. We need back up!”

Inside the HQ building, Alex and Joe exchanged looks at the radio call.

“You stay here, make sure no one else is around,” Alex said. “I’ll take care of it.”

Joe nodded and headed for a rickety staircase that led to the upper level.

“Alpha-1 to Bravo, I’m on my way.”

Alex moved to the large double doors that lead out on to the road through the village and peered around them. The .50 cal gun was further up the road, all right. He could see the muzzle-flash coming from the ground floor of a ruined building. Because the road curved, the front of the HQ building was behind the gun nest. Alex eased out the door and sprinted across to the building. He sneak-peeked around the corner and saw a chunk missing from the east-facing wall. A shell had clearly blown apart a window, presenting an opening to Alex.

Moving quickly, the former para-trooper jogged along to the hole and scrambled inside the building. Alex moved quietly through the ruin, picking his way carefully. He finally moved through shattered doorway toward the corner where he’d seen the gun.

Sure enough, what was clearly a Browning M2 ‘Ma Deuce’ was mounted on a unstable tripod. The Somali manning it was smoking what smelt like cannabis and laughing as he blazed away. The gun’s barrel was glowing brightly in Alex’s NVGs, clearly close to overheating.

Alex got up to touching distance of the gunman, before he even realised the commando was there. Alex shot him at point-blank range.

He keyed his radio, “Tango down.”

As he spoke, a Somali carrying an RPG-7 ran around a near-intact building across the street and fired at the wall which the machine-gunner had been concentrating on.

Alex snapped up his UMP and shot the gunman even as the rocket-propelled grenade hit the wall and detonated.

A scream ripped the night air and Natalie screamed, “Bravo-1 is down!” over the radio.

Alex quickly switched his radio to the team-channel. “Alpha-2, get your ass over to Bravo, stat. We’ve got a man down!”

Not even bothering to listen for an answer, Alex sprinted from the building and dashed around the wall to see Jack writhing on the floor, clearly in agony. Then the SAS man saw why. His left leg had been severed just below his hip.

Alex grabbed Natalie, span her around and pulled out her med-kit. He pulled a dressing from the kit and handed it to the woman over her shoulder.

“Put that over the wound. Keep pressure on it!” Alex ordered, before pulling out a ampoule loaded with a dose of morphine. He flicked off the protective rubber cap on the integral needle and then jabbed it into Jack’s side.

Almost immediately, it kicked in and Jack stopped screaming. Alex slapped another dressing on to a wound above Jack’s waist and hoped to hell Joe arrived soon.

Mack and John were further north, heading around a ruined house when Alex called.

“Get over there,” Mack snapped. “I’ll head for the prison. You get to Bravo!”

“Right. Stay sharp!”

John sprinted off and Mack moved onward. Several gunmen came from a ruin to his left and he sprayed several bursts in their direction as he picked up his pace. He thought he’d hit two of them, but it certainly made the group dive for cover.

Joe dashed around the ruined wall, to see Alex and Natalie trying to keep pressure on Jack’s injuries. He pulled his backpack off and pulled out the kit.

“What have you done so far?” he asked quickly.

“Jabbed him with a dose of morphine,” Alex replied. He’d never been so happy to see someone before. His medical training was extremely limited and very time someone in his squad had been injured, he’d usually been busy trying to cover them and the medics, not trying to help.

“We’re keeping pressure on the wounds as well,” Alex went on.

“Good, now, get your ass out of my way,” Joe said before jabbing another dose of morphine into Jack. Alex moved aside as Joe dragged his kit closer.

“Get on the radio, sarge,” Joe said. “We need a medivac out here stat,”

Alex nodded, pulled out his radio and switched over to the frequency the captain of the Westminster had given him.

“Palace, this is Gladiator. Palace this is Gladiator, do you copy, over?”

The radio crackled briefly, “Gladiator, Palace. We copy over.”

“Palace, we have a man down, severe trauma injury. Need immediate medivac, repeat, need immediate medivac, over.”

“Gladiator, Palace, copy that. Stand by one.”

There was a brief pause before the warship’s radio operator came back on.

“Gladiator, Palace. Helo is on route. ETE is fifteen minutes. Say again, One-Five minutes, over.”

“Roger that, Palace. Will pop smoke for LZ, out.”

John arrived moments later, just before another group of gunmen appeared.

Alex and John returned fire as Joe continued to work to stabilise Jack.

“What are you doing here?” Alex asked.

“Came to help,” John said. “Mack reckoned he could get the prisoners on his Todd!”

Both commandos fired more bursts, dropping the remaining gunmen.

Further north, Mack raced across the unpaved track that, in his opinion, was over-rated as a road and ran toward the radio bunker and the prison beyond. He saw three guards standing around by the bunker and raised his MP7 as they started to stand up straight and look closer. Three bursts later and they were dead. As he got closer, Mack decided the ‘bunker’ barely deserved the name either. It was a tin shack with concrete blocks forming the walls.

Figuring he had nothing to lose, Mack pulled one of his grenades free, flicked the pin out and hurled it through the doorway as he ran past. The grenade detonated with a pleasing scream of pain overlaid on the boom.

Mack skidded to a halt in the dust as he reached the prison. It too seemed unworthy of the name. It seemed to be a topless house, with a rotten door. He kicked the door open and dived in. After executing a shoulder roll, he spotted two guards and drilled them with quick bursts.

Leaping to his feet, Mack moved across to the doorway to a second room. Kicking it open, wrecking the lock in the process, he stepped in to see the hostages tied to two chairs, a torch burning on one wall.

“Who are you?” the woman asked as he pulled out his combat knife and cut the rope tying her to her chair.

“Don’t worry, I’m here to help rescue you,” Mack answered. He cut the man free.

“But who are you?” the man asked. “Shouldn’t you have back-up?”

“I do. Unfortunately, one of our squad is injured and everyone else is with him.”

Mack led the couple back into the main room, keying his radio as he did.

“Alpha-1 this is Charlie, what’s going on, over?”

“Charlie, Alpha-1. We’ve got Palace’s helo en route to collect us. Bravo-1 is in bad shape. What’s your status?”

“Packages secured,” Mack answered. “I’m holding here until you tell me where and when to meet the chopper, over.”

“LZ is the open space about five hundred metres to your south-west. Remain in place until you see the helo arrive. We need to get over there sooner. Helo should be here in around eleven minutes. Say again, one-one minutes, over.”

“Roger that, Alpha. Out.”

“What’s happening?” the man asked. Mack looked back at him.

“There’s a helicopter coming,” Mack assured him. “We just need to wait for it. We’ll soon have you out of here.”

“Who are you?” the woman asked once more.

Mack hesitated. Somehow he doubted ‘I’m a commando from a super-secret team which doesn’t exist’ would go over well. He was equally convinced revealing he was an SBS commando was not a good move.

“I’m Action Man,” he replied.

The former hostages exchanged blank looks at the revelation, but said nothing.

Alex and John got together some wooden planks from the remains of one of the barracks buildings and used some rope to lash them together and make a crude stretcher. Working with Joe, they managed to get the unconscious Jack on to the planks and tie him on, before moving him to the intended landing zone for the helicopter.

The Merlin was soon visible over the ruined buildings, its rotors beating the air with a steady rhythm. Alex pulled a flare from Jack’s backpack, which he was carrying and lit it.

As he threw it on to the ground, Mack ran around a nearby wall, with the two former hostages close behind.

The Merlin touched down and Mack guided the civilians on to the ramp, where the loadmaster took them by their arms and steered them into seats and strapped them in. John, Alex and Joe came up the ramp next, carrying the makeshift stretcher. Natalie and Mack were last to board, keeping their guns trained on the ruins for any sign of trouble.

The loadmaster told the pilots to lift off, before helping to secure Jack’s stretcher to the helicopter’s deck. The Merlin quickly rose, pivoted and sped back out to sea.

Action Man HQ
The next day

Smith was waiting for the commandos when they arrived in the car park in the blacked-out SUV. Jack had been transferred to Kenya by the Westminster’s Merlin and flown back to Britain on a special medivac flight and was now in Selly Oak, where the British forces’ wounded were treated.

The rest of the group had flown back to Britain on a regular flight from Oman.

Smith held up a copy of the Daily Mirror as the soldiers approached.

‘WHO IS ACTION MAN?’ demanded the headline.

“Have you seen this?” Smith asked.

The soldiers shook their heads.

“Mrs Curtis gave an interview to the paper, saying that the mystery commando who rescued her and her husband called himself ‘Action Man’,” Smith went on angrily.

“Well come on, boss, what was I supposed to say when they asked who I was? ‘Oh, I’m an SBS commando from a super-secret black ops group that has no name’?” Mack asked. “I didn’t know what to say!”

“If you’re Action Man, does that mean I’m Action Woman?” Natalie asked.

Alex laughed before falling silent at Smith’s glare.

“At least the MOD are helping,” Smith said, turning the paper over. “Here’s their comment; ‘The Ministry of Defence issued a statement saying they were unaware of any individual in the British armed forces called 'Action Man'.’ Thankfully, the paper seems to think ‘Action Man’ is a member of a mercenary group and are trying to find out if government money’s been used to pay mercs to rescue the hostages.”

Smith suddenly walked toward the lift. “Anyway, come on, we’ve got some new personnel for you to meet.”

“I thought you told me there was a list of eight people,” Joe said. “Have you recruited the other two?”

“One of them,” Smith answered. “I hate to be harsh, but Jack’s not going to be coming back as a frontline operator with only one leg. Hell, he might even opt for medical discharge and retire. So, yes, I’ve got someone to fill his slot on the team. The others are for non-shooter roles.”

They moved into the lift and rode down. Moving into the ops room, they saw five men and a woman waiting for their arrival.

The replacement for Jack was easy to spot. He was standing in an ‘at ease’ posture with his hands behind his back. The lights reflected from the dark skin of his shaved head.

“This is Tom, ex-SAS, who’s taking over for Jack,” Smith said.

“Hey, I know you,” Alex interrupted. “Sergeant Stone, the hard-ass from Mobility Troop. Everyone reckoned your name was apt because you’re hard as rocks.”

Tom didn’t look impressed, but only said, “Sir, we’ve been waiting for you.”

He saluted Smith who returned it, whilst rolling his eyes. “I told you before, relax, sergeant. We’re not standing on ceremony here.”

Tom relaxed, but only slightly.

“Stone, here, was with the Royal Tank Regiment before joining the SAS. He’s a trained tank driver and can drive practically anything with wheels,” Smith said. “He’s also marksman rated and airborne qualified.”

Smith indicated the three men standing together, “These are the new helicopter crew. Trevor the pilot, Ed his co-pilot and Paul, the loadmaster. They’ve joined us from the Joint Special Forces Aviation Wing. They’re cleared on Chinooks, Merlins, Lynxes, Dauphins and Gazelles.”

Trevor, who was medium height with close-cropped brown hair, spoke up. “We’re also qualified on Little Birds and Black Hawks.”

“How’d you manage that?” John asked. “JSFAW doesn’t operate them.”

“Did an exchange tour with the Night-Stalkers,” Steve replied.

“The Night-Stalkers?” Joe asked.

“American Army’s 160th Special Ops Aviation Regiment,” Alex replied. “Except they only fly helicopters.”

“I’ve also got time-in-type on a Mil-8 Hip,” Trevor said. “We found a working model in Afghanistan when I was there and I flew it a few times.”

“They’ve also just under gone a training course to fly Apaches,” Smith added. “So they can fly attack missions to support you or transports.”

The older man turned his attention to the other man and the woman. “Jim and Fiona here are our jet pilots. Fiona’s a Typhoon pilot and has also flown Harriers and prototypes of the F-35 Lightning II.”

The blonde smiled, “I’ve also got hours logged in the F/A-18F Super Hornet and the F-5E Tiger.” Her smile broadened, “Exchange trip to the US Navy at NAS Fallon.”

“Oooo,” Mack cooed. “Top Gun, very impressive.”

“Jim, on the other hand,” Smith continued. “Is a qualified Tornado navigator and transitioned to flying Typhoons. He’s also flown Harriers.”

The red-haired man narrowed his green eyes, “I’m also qualified as a back-seater for the F-15E Strike Eagle. Exchange tour with the US Air Force,” he added.

Smith went on, “They’re also trained to fly both the Hercules and the C-17 transports, so they can fly you around the world as well as providing air support.”

Smith introduced the five commandos to the pilots and Tom. Alex noticed that Natalie seemed a tad frosty toward Fiona and concluded she was probably jealous, now that she was no longer the sole woman in the frontline force.

The next two days were largely given over to Smith conducting long debriefings of the five commandos, whilst they got to know their new comrades. Tom seemed determined to prove he was as good as the others. He proved to be Natalie’s equal in marksmanship, but couldn’t match either Mack or Alex.

His mood wasn’t improved by Joe beating him in a best-of-five hand-to-hand sparring contest.

He did however set about creating a new firing range in one of the sub-sub-basement levels where the facility’s power generators were. The range would pop targets out at random from behind different parts of the room, forcing the shooter to be constantly reacting to the ‘enemy’ troops.

The six commandos were soon competing to see who could manage to hit every target in a thirty-second period with complete accuracy. Natalie took the lead quite quickly, but Tom and Alex were soon nipping at her heels.

Four days after the Somali mission, Smith gathered the group together in the briefing room.

“We’ve got a new mission. We need to find Doctor X and SIS have linked him to arms deals in Peru. There’s a new player in the Peruvian drug cartels. His name’s Miguel Coralles and he’s got more troops than the Peruvian army.”

“He’s got 72,000 troops?” Alex interrupted.

Smith glowered. “He’s got a couple thousand troops. Many of whom are imported mercenaries, some are ex-Peruvian Army and a few are recruits from the Shining Path terrorist group. They’re extremely well-armed; they’re using AK-103 and AK-74 Kalashnikovs, RPD and PKM light machine guns and RPGs. They’re also using T-90 tanks, Mil-24s and at least a half-dozen ZSUs.”

“Sounds like this guy’s got enough kit to take over,” John commented.

Smith nodded. “The Peruvian government thought so,” he went on. “They launched operations to shut Coralles down. They got their asses kicked. The locals he’s got working for him anticipated and countered the Army’s tactics. Peruvian Special Forces in particular got hammered. The government asked for help from the US and the UK. A joint SAS-Delta Force group has been there for three months conducting operations. They’ve finally located Coralles’ villa.”

“Which is where we come in, I suppose,” Natalie put in.

“Exactly. We need to get info on how Coralles got the weapons and kit he’s using and so you’re going to assault the villa,” Smith explained. “Fiona and Jim will fly the unit down to Lima. Trevor and Ed will then fly the insertion mission. Get your gear together and get ready to deploy.”

The six commandos immediately headed for the armoury. Natalie selected a Steyr AUG assault rifle, Tom selected the FAMAS F1, Mack chose the Heckler and Koch G36, Alex picked the M-16 and added an M203 grenade launcher, Joe and John picked M-4s.

Lima, Peru
The next day

It had taken fifteen hours to fly from Britain to Peru. By the time the plane arrived, Fiona and Jim were exhausted and looking forward to a long rest.

As Alex led the commandos and the helicopter crew down the air-stairs, he saw a familiar face looking up from the tarmac.

“Sergeant Mann,” the other soldier said. “Well, well. I didn’t expect to see you on this hush-hush flight.”

Alex grinned as he saluted the other man. “Well, Lieutenant, I didn’t know you were down here.”

The lieutenant returned the salute as he took in the group behind Alex. “So, Alex, what’s this all about?”

“I’m not sure how much I can tell you, sir,” Alex replied. “It’s all extremely classified.”

“Right,” the other man said. “All I got told was, expect a flight in from London with six commandos and a helicopter crew on board. They’re to be provided with a local chopper and will take care of capturing Coralles.”

“That’s the size of it,” Alex answered.

The junior officer tutted, “Well, we’ve got a MiL-8 over here for you. When are you moving out?”

“Not ‘til night fall,” Alex answered. “Where’s your operating base?”

“La Joya, a remote airfield out in the boonies. We’ll take you there in the Hip,” the officer said, referring to the helicopter by its NATO codename.

Alex led the group to the helicopter, walking along side the lieutenant.

“So, how come you’re not with the Regiment?” the lieutenant asked. “What’s with all this secrecy?”

“Dunno how much I can tell you, sir,” Alex answered.

“Can the ‘sir’ guff, Alex,” the lieutenant said. “I heard rumours about some kind of secret group.”

“That’s true, Steve,” Alex said. “We’re part of a secret joint services group. Outside the normal chain of command.”

Steve shook his head, pausing as they reached the helicopter, “Just be careful. I still owe you for saving my ass.”

Alex grinned. “Don’t worry, I don’t intend to get killed.”

La Joya, Peru
Later that day

After studying aerial photos of the villa where Coralles lived and studying terrain maps, the commandos had retired to a crew lounge that the Delta-SAS force had taken over. Each of the soldiers was stripping and cleaning their weapons.

As Alex sat cleaning his M16, Tom was sitting across from him cleaning his FAMAS.

“So, what’s the story with you and the lieutenant, Alex?” Tom asked. “You guys go back?”

“Sure, D-Day put me through training when I switched from Boat Troop to the CRW unit. We got deployed on an op together and I ended up saving him from getting killed,” Alex replied. “We became mates and he keeps trying to pay me back for saving him.”

“D-Day? Why’d you call him ‘D-Day’?” Tom asked frowning as he rubbed oil on the barrel of his assault rifle.

Alex smiled, “His name’s Steve Dawson. Apparently there was some comic character back in the ‘80s called ‘D-Day Dawson’. When his sergeant at Sandhurst found out Steve’s name, he called him ‘D-Day’ cuz he was a fan of the character. It stuck.”

Alex finished cleaning the barrel of the M203 grenade launcher. “What about you, Tom? What’s your story? Why such a hard-case?”

Tom shrugged. “My parents came to Britain in the ‘70s from Uganda, fleeing from Idi Amin. When they told me about what it was like, I decided to join up to fight against dictators like him. Crazy, I know. But I wanted to be the best I could be. I figured to do that, I had to be a hard case. I guess it’s worked so far.”

Alex nodded and put down the cloth he’d been using. Still maintaining eye contact with Tom, he reassembled the M16, attached the M203, slapped a magazine in the assault rifle, opened the grenade launcher’s breech and slapped in a grenade before snapping it shut. He stood, aimed at the door and whispered, “Bang, bang.”

Tom nodded. “Impressive. Less than twenty seconds.”

Alex looked back at him. “Under fifteen, actually. I can do it in the dark.”

Tom laughed. “So, what about you and Natalie?”

Alex looked over to the brunette as she cleaned the telescopic sight of her Steyr.

“There is no ‘me and Natalie’. I dunno much about her. I do know she seemed awful jealous of an old flame I saw at Brize before the Somali mission. Or at least, so Joe told me.” He shrugged. “I’m not exactly interested in a girlfriend at the moment.”

As the sun finally set, ‘D-day’ Dawson returned to the crew lounge to find the commandos kitted out in their jungle-camouflage fatigues, body armour and a floppy bush-hat. They were each wearing a image-intensifier scope on a headband under the hat.

D-day stopped abruptly as he strode in. “Jesus, you frightened me.”

Alex flipped his scope up and laughed. “That was the idea. Trev and Steve are pre-flighting the MiL. We’ll be heading out soon.”

“Yeah, guessed that. I’ll be heading out soon too; we had a Delta team out destroying a processing site last night. Two were killed and one, a lieutenant, is missing. The other guy’s in the hospital. We’re heading out to try to find the guy.”

Alex stuck his hand out, “Well, good luck, mate. Hope you find him.”

Dawson shook his hand. “You too, mate. Try not to kill Coralles, eh?”

Tom laughed as he stepped over. “Don’t worry, we’ve all memorised his photo.”

Steve laughed and headed out. The Action Man group trotted over to the waiting MiL-17 helicopter. They climbed aboard, with Paul checking each was strapped in.

As the rotors began to spool up, Joe suddenly cursed.

“What’s wrong?” Alex asked.

“I meant to being a tape-deck and Long Tall Sally,” Joe replied.

“What?” Tom asked.

Alex turned to him, “You never seen Predator?”

Tom nodded, “Sure, the Schwarzenegger flick.”

“Don’t you remember the scene where they’re flying in on their mission in the Huey?” Joe asked.

Tom frowned. “Not really, it’s been a while.”

“They play Little Richard’s Long Tall Sally on a tape-deck,” Alex said.

“Got it taken care of,” Paul interrupted. He held up a scuffed iPod that was attached to the intercom system.

“Preloaded with classic rock’n’roll tracks and also, Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries.”

Alex and Mack laughed.

The helicopter lifted off and headed west.

“I’ve been thinking about getting a new outfit for operations,” Joe said to Alex over the intercom.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Since I’m the best martial arts guy on the team, I figure I ought to dress the part.”

“What, wearing a white gi, you mean?” Alex asked, referring to the traditional martial artists robes.

“Nah, I’m thinking red and black spandex. With guns hanging off and a pair of katanas strapped to my back!”

Alex laughed, “Oh, so you’re Deadpool are you?”

“Well, I try…”

“Yes, you’re very trying…”

The Mil-17’s heavy rotors beat the air with a steady rhythm as it crossed the Peruvian landscape. Inside, Paul was blasting classic rock’n’roll tunes through the intercom. As well as Little Richard, he was playing Chubby Checker, Jerry Lee Lewis, Bill Haley and the Comets and Chuck Berry.

As ‘The Twist’ was ending, Trevor called through from the cockpit over the intercom, “Five minutes!”

Paul shouted, ‘Five minutes!” Then he quickly grabbed the iPod and cued up ‘Long Tall Sally’.

As the Little Richard classic blasted from the intercom, Trevor looked across the cockpit at Ed. The other man glanced across the cockpit.

“How you doin’ over there?” Trevor asked Ed.

“Fine, boss,” Ed replied. He was flying the transport helicopter, rather than Trevor, to allow him to get experience with the foreign machine.

As they reached the LZ, Ed brought the MiL down to three feet above the ground and Paul pulled open the large right side door.

The commandos jumped from the helicopter and sprinted clear before dropping to one knee. The MiL lifted up, pivoted and sped away. The LZ had been deliberately picked to be a mile from the villa and downwind to minimise the chances of it being detected.

The six soldiers quickly sprinted off, heading for the edge of the depression which Coralles’ home sat in.

After scrambling down the depression, the team paused five hundred yards from the villa.

Mack and Alex moved out from the group and took aim at the two watchtowers on this side of the villa. Both fired a single round, taking out the sentinels.

The team quickly moved on, running faster toward the wall. The over-lapping gunshots were sure to draw attention.

John doffed his backpack and pulled out a C4 satchel charge, which he set up at the side of the wall. The team stacked up on either side of the charge.

“Fire in the hole,” John whispered before hitting the detonator.

The charge blew a hole through the wall, which Alex and Mack quickly leapt through with the rest of the team following.

Alex, Tom and John sprinted around the front of the villa, whilst Mack, Natalie and Joe headed for the rear.

As Alex rounded the building, a burst of machine-gun fire raked the gravel drive in front of him. He leaped back, and then shifted his grip on the M16 he carried and fired a 40mm grenade into the watchtower. A truncated scream marked the demise of the luckless gunman inside. Alex then loaded a second grenade and fired it into the front doors of the villa.

The explosion blew the heavy doors into splinters. Alex led the charge through the doors.

At the rear of the villa, Mack had killed the other watchtower before firing a three round burst into the patio doors that dominated the rear wall. The glass shattered and he leapt through the doorframe. Two gunmen were in the room. He threw himself to the floor, rolled and fired killing one as Natalie charged through the door and shot the second.

The trio swiftly moved from the lounge into the hallway and turned right and into the kitchen.

Two gunmen raised pistols to fire as Mack led the way. He fired and killed the first, as Natalie came in close behind and shot the second.

Alex led his trio into the dining room.

They swiftly shot three of the gunmen present, before Alex and Tom fired at the fourth, cutting him down with two simultaneous bursts.

The six commandos regrouped in the hallway and stacked up either side of the double doors leading into the main room.

Joe launched a flying kick that broke the doors open, crashing to the ground as the others leaped over him, splitting left and right. Four soldiers, each an ex-Peruvian Special Ops soldier stood in the corners, two managed to fire, but missed as the commandos dispatched them, before Joe rolled to his feet and shot a fifth standing in the large picture window area of the room.

The team moved out into the hall and quickly headed up the stairs to the upper level. Once on the landing, they split into pairs. Alex and Tom moved toward the front of the building and kicked in the door of the bathroom. No one was inside.

Natalie and Joe crashed into the smallest bedroom at the rear of the property. Joe shot two gunmen before Natalie could react.

Mack and John crashed into the other large bedroom and shot three gunmen.

The team regrouped at the door to the largest bedroom.

They kicked in the door and moved in, rapidly gunning down four gunmen surrounding Coralles.

They had their target.

“I suppose you’re taking me in,” Coralles sneered in Spanish.

“In a moment or two,” Alex answered, in Spanish. “But we have a few questions.”

From somewhere below, a furious pounding could be heard. Not taking his eyes off Coralles, Alex said, “Tom, go check that out. There’s a basement to this place.”

The other soldier nodded and left.

Coralles, now looking distinctly uncomfortable, asked, “What do you want, pendejo?”

Alex walked over to him and punched him. Coralles staggered back, but managed to stay on his feet.

“Mind your manners, senor,” Alex said. “We want to know who you bought your weapons from.”

“My weapons?”

“Si, all those Kalashnikovs, the T-90 tanks and MiL-24 helicopters. You don’t buy those at the supermarket, do you?” Alex answered.

“A Russian colonel. Vladimir Korskov. He’s got friends in the Red Army, even though he’s retired. He sells a lot of stuff on the black market. He told me something about selling a lot of gear to some chicos in Yemen or some place.” Coralles was starting to sweat now.

Alex nodded. “Do you know anything about a hombre called ‘Doctor X’? Russian Army scientist?”

“No. I only deal with Korskov and one of his deputies; a dirt-bag named Sartov.”

Downstairs, Tom had found the door leading to the basement. It was locked, but the banging was definitely coming from there.

“Hey!” he shouted. “Some one down there?”

“Yeah!” came the reply. “Lieutenant Colton! US Army!”

“Stand back, lieutenant,” Tom shouted. He levelled his FAMAS and shot the lock. After pulling the door open, he found a light-switch and headed down the stairs to find a second locked door. Again he shot the lock.

Colton was a tall guy, with close-cropped brown hair and bruises decorating his face. He leaned heavily against the wall. His camouflage clothes were stained with blood and torn in several places.

Colton frowned as Tom moved over to him.

“I don’t recognise you from the SAS outfit, but your accent is definitely British,” Colton said.

“My name’s Tom Stone,” he answered without thinking. “I’m a member of the Action Man team.”

“Action who?”

“Never mind, can you walk?” Tom asked.

“Barely. They worked me over real good,” Colton answered. Tom noticed the man’s right ankle was twisted at an unnatural angle.

“Here, lean on me,” he said and put Colton’s right arm around his shoulder and led him to the stairs.

“So, what’s going on? The explosions woke me up. Then I heard gunfire. I thought maybe it was the Delta team here to rescue me,” Colton said.

“Not quite,” Tom replied as they struggled up the stairs. “We came here after Coralles. Finding you’s a bonus.”

Once Tom and Colton made it to the hallway, they saw the rest of the group coming down the stairs, with Coralles gagged and bound between Mack and John’s strong grip.

“Who’s this?” Alex asked.

“That GI guy D-day told you he was going out looking for,” Tom replied. “Lieutenant Colton.”

“Bonus,” Alex replied. “Joe, check him over, he looks like hammered sh*t.”

The medic moved to Colton’s side and began a careful examination as Alex radioed Trevor to come pick them up.

They were back at La Joya within an hour. Colton was taken to the base hospital, whilst Coralles was turned over to the SAS/Delta unit to hand over to the Peruvians.

The Action Man unit flew back to Lima to link up with Jim and Fiona and head back to Britain. Alex knew Korskov might be a dead-end. But he might also lead them to Doctor X.

[Sundance]

Action Man HQ
Three weeks later

Smith had finally allowed the team to discuss their backgrounds and to leave the headquarters. Tom had collected his car from a south London lock-up. It was a Shelby Mustang GT500, which he was tuning up. John had started visiting the nearest indoor dry ski slope and rock-climbing centres as it emerged he was a keen skier and climber. Joe was sparring with anyone who was crazy enough to think they could beat him. Natalie was content to be able to return to her flat and collect her favourite novels. Alex had set up his X-Box in the lounge and was playing through Halo: ODST for the fourth time.

Now, though, they were gathered in the briefing room. Smith entered and smiled.

“I’ve got some good news at last. Jack’s recovering very well. Even though he’s still in Selly Oak, his condition’s improving. They’re talking about fitting him with a prostheses next week.”

Alex, Mack, John, Joe and Natalie all grinned and applauded. The newer members who had not met Jack simply gave polite smiles.

“I’ve also finally got some news on Korskov. After my SVR contact was a bust, I got in touch with a guy I know in the FSB,” Smith went on. The SVR was Russia’s intelligence agency. FSB was the Russian internal security service, the equivalent of Britain’s MI5.

“Ivan says Korskov’s a former Army colonel who left the service in the mid ‘90s and set up an import-export business. He apparently made a ton of cash exporting vodka and Caspian Sea caviar. Largely he was importing Scotch and Tennessee whisky and Italian and German sports cars. Other than that, all they’ve got on him is that he lives in Uzbekistan.”

“Doesn’t Secret Intelligence have anything on him?” Mack asked.

Smith snorted. “Nope. His file at Vauxhall Cross is skinnier than an anorexic super-model. All they’ve got is a copy of his Army personnel file. I had to get in touch with a friend at Langley.” Smith was referring to the home of the CIA.

“Wade was able to tell me that Korskov’s known to have been making money from arms sales to anyone and everyone. Mid-East terror groups, rebel groups in Africa, drug cartels in South America. Even movie studios in the States. He also sold one studio a pair of T-80 main battle tanks for some movie that got canned. He also provided me with recon satellite imagery of Korskov’s home.”

Smith held up a photo of the building in question. “It’s protected by four machine gun equipped watch-towers, emplaced guns at the gate and machine gun nests between the house and the gate. Word is, there’s two hundred troops there. All former members of the Russian Interior ministry’s OMON commandos.”

“The black beret guys?” Alex asked. “They’re supposed to be vicious bastards.”

“They are. Russian OMON troops have been accused of torture and murder of civilians and kidnapping. You can bet you’ll have some serious opposition from them.”

“So we’re going after this guy then?” Mack asked. “Do we know he’s connected to X?”

“Yes, you’re going after him. No, we don’t know for sure what his connection is to X. He’s the best lead we’ve got though.”

“How are we approaching him?” John asked. “An armed assault’s not likely to go over well with the Uzbekistani government.”

“I know. That’s why you’re going to be meeting him out in the countryside, away from the cities. You’re going to be approaching him about a possible arms deal. John and Alex will provide covert sniper support. Mack and Natalie pose as the buyers. Tom and Joe pose as your bodyguards. You fly out with a private plane Fiona and Jim will fly. Take two cars, one for the sniper team and one for the others.”

“Are we supposed to grab the guy or what?” Mack asked.

“No, try being subtle and ask him about X for a change. See how that works out.”

Uzbekistan
Two days later

It had taken the team over a day to get out to Uzbekistan in the converted airliner. Some diplomatic finessing had allowed the team to land and unload their gear without worrying about customs or paperwork. Alex and John had departed first in an Audi A4 borrowed from the Secret Intelligence Service.

The car, one of several known as ‘Q-cars’ had been modified with improved engine, brakes, steering and fitted with lightweight armour around the engine, fuel-tank and passenger compartment as well as its windows being replaced with polycarbonate bullet-resistant plastic. John had been extremely disappointed to discover they didn’t include retractable machine-guns, pop-up surface-to-air missiles and ejector seats. In fact the cars’ only armaments were smoke-pods and flash-bangs to cause distractions to allow them to escape.

Alex and John arrived at the meeting place, on the R15 highway south of Krasnogorskiy. They parked the car on a small side road and hike to the top of a ridge over-looking the meeting place on the opposite side of the road.

Alex was carrying two rifles as well as his light-weight backpack. Slung over his shoulder was a .50 calibre Barrett M82 anti-vehicle sniper rifle, whilst he carried the smaller, lighter, Accuracy International Arctic Warfare 7.62mm sniper rifle. John was carrying an M16 fitted with an ACOG sight.

Once they reached the ridge, Alex set up his rifles, including pulling a small weather vane and anemometer from his pack and setting it up. Both men then donned ghillie suits and lay down in the long grass to wait.

Two hours later, the rest of the team arrived, pulling off the highway near a smaller road. Ten minutes later, Korskov arrived in a MiL-26 ‘Halo’ helicopter.

The helicopter landed and a squad of OMON troops disembarked first, moving to surround both the helicopter and the car.

Watching through the sniper scope of the Arctic Warfare, Alex could see Tom and Joe nervously twitching their rifles.

Four more OMON troops followed Korskov from the helicopter.

Mack and Natalie shook hands with Korskov.

“I understand you wish to purchase some weapons,” Korskov said to Mack in accented English.

“Correct,” Mack replied. “We’re interested in purchasing some Kalashnikovs and other… heavier weapons.”

Korskov smiled. “Why don’t you cut the bull and tell me why you’re really here?”

“What do you mean?” Natalie asked.

“I know you’re not arms dealers. I had you checked out. No one’s ever heard of you before. You’re obviously from Britain. British Intelligence? Is this about that thing you had running in Peru against Coralles?”

“No,” Mack replied. “We’re more interested in Doctor Khodyayev. Known more commonly as Doctor X.”

Korskov looked angry. “The Doctor? What do you want from him?”

“We want to take him in, what do you think?” Natalie answered.

Korskov laughed. “Good luck with that. He’s allied himself with some very powerful people. They’re planning a revolution in Moscow.”

Mack and Natalie exchanged worried glances.

“What do you mean?” Natalie asked.

“I mean, they’re going to launch ballistic missiles at Moscow to wipe out their enemies whilst they hide in their bunker under Domodedovo Airport! They will then claim it was an attack by the West and launch a nuclear strike on Washington!”

“You’re crazy!” Mack snapped. “No one would do such a thing!”

“Wait another twenty-four hours and see if I’m right. The missiles are being prepped for launch as we speak, eight hundred miles north-east of Moscow!”

Korskov suddenly turned to his lieutenant, “I’ve told them too much. Kill them!”

Tom and Joe immediately pulled out their Browning pistols and shot the nearest OMON troops, before diving for cover.

“Shit,” Alex snapped. He hadn’t heard the conversation, but the sudden turn of events was not good news. He rolled over to his M82 and quickly adjusted the sight. A single .50 calibre round shattered the engines of the Halo helicopter.

He shifted back to the AW rifle and adjusted his scope as the OMON troops opened fire at the others.

Several of the OMON troops were trying to take cover as Tom and Joe continued firing.

Alex swiftly shot Korskov’s lieutenant, before quickly shifting aim. The sight wasn’t dialled in correctly, but he managed to fire off his remaining eight rounds with hits on each target.

They were way out of range for John’s M16, but he fired off two sustained bursts any way. It got the OMON troops’ attention, allowing Mack and Natalie to draw their own pistols as Tom grabbed a UMP from the car’s glove box and fired off several bursts at the OMON troops.

The OMON troops were too busy trying to fall back to the helicopter for cover to fire accurately, missing the commandos in their haste.

Alex again slid across to the M82 and emptied its ten round magazine for nine more hits.

Half the OMON troops were dead. Only four were left unhurt. They threw down their guns and surrendered.

Mack strode over to Korskov and grabbed him by the throat.

“Where are the missiles? Where?”

Korskov coughed. “All I know is they were going to deploy them somewhere about 770 miles northeast of Moscow. Thirty miles outside Sosnogorsk. That’s all I know.”

Mack shoved him away. “Get packed up,” he ordered the others. “We need to move.”

Natalie pulled out her tactical radio. “Alpha, Bravo. Get moving back to the airport. We’ve got trouble.”

Alex acknowledged Natalie’s transmission then began collecting his gear. Carrying the M82 across his chest, with the bolt-action Arctic Warfare slung across his back, he led John at a steady jog back to the car. Halfway there, the other Audi raced past on the highway.

Once Alex was racing west on the highway, he got John to radio Natalie.

The former Intelligence operative quickly explained what they’d learned from Korskov. “We need to get on the plane and get out of here,” Natalie concluded.

By the time the two cars were racing into Tashkent airport, a dozen police cars were chasing the speeding Audis.

The commandos raced up the rear cargo ramp of the plane, slamming on their brakes before Jim raised the ramp and used the intercom to tell Fiona to get moving.

As Jim and Mack entered the cockpit, Fiona was clicking off the radio.

“Tashkent ATC are refusing clearance to depart. They say the police want a word.”

“Stuff that,” Mack said. “We need to leave. Now.”

Fiona looked at him. “I figured that. Might get hairy though.”

She taxied the plane to the eastern end of the runway and turned to face west for take off.

The police cars were rushing to block the way. Fiona looked at the men as Alex entered the cockpit.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Jim pointed down the runway. Alex stared for a second. Then he threw himself into the flight engineer’s seat and strapped himself in.

Fiona flipped on the ground brakes, pushed the throttles to full and watched the engine instruments.

“Flaps and slats to take off positions,” she said to Jim. He rushed to set them.

“Ready.”

Fiona tripped the brakes off and the plane thundered down the runway like a maddened rhino. Mack threw himself into the cockpit’s spare seat and strapped in.

Alex could hear Fiona muttering to herself about speed, take-off weight and then suddenly hauled back on the control yoke. The aircraft lifted into the air, barely clearing the police cars.

“Gear up,” she snapped to Jim. He brought the landing gear up and moved to adjust the flaps and slats before she could give him the orders.

Tashkent tower was shouting in her ear.

“Tashkent air just informed me that unless we return immediately, they’re going to get the air force to scramble interceptors,” Fiona told the others.

“They better hurry, we’re only twelve miles from the border with Kazakhstan,” Mack said looking at a map next to him.

Fiona turned the plane north.

“The Uzbek air force has Flankers. They could intercept us,” Fiona felt constrained to point out.

“Not in time,” Alex answered. “There’s no way they could get a flight off the ground and vectored here to intercept before we cross the border.”

The transport raced north, crossing the border moments later.

Fiona immediately got on the radio to Almaty Centre, the traffic control centre for the Kazakh capital and requested a flight plan to the airport.

Almaty, Kazakhstan
Two hours later

Kazakhstan’s air traffic control had been reluctant to allow the plane to land, but Alex spoke to the head of ATC and promised to allow the plane to be impounded one it was on the ground.

As soon as the plane had taxied into a hanger, it was surrounded by a squad of Kazakh troops.

Alex, along with Natalie and the British embassy’s military liaison, spoke to the head of the Kazakh forces and persuaded him of the urgency of the situation.

A satellite link back to London was provided and Natalie reported in to Smith.

Once she’d explained what had happened, Smith gave them new orders.

“See if you can get the Kazakh authorities to approve a flight plan for you to Russia. Once you get there, you’ll need to get transportation to the site. I’m going to see what I can get out of the NRO in America.”

The NRO was the National Reconnaissance Office, a department of the Pentagon which controlled America’s satellites.

“We can’t trust anyone in Russia, so you’ll have to do this. In the meantime, sit tight. I’ll get back to you in an hour.”

Nearly an hour later, the Kazakh colonel and the military liaison returned.

“The Kazakh authorities have agreed to waive any charges against you for illegally entering their airspace,” the liaison informed Natalie. “I’ve been in touch with my Uzbek embassy counterpart and the Uzbek authorities think you were on a mission to get information regarding al-Qaeda and that you were ambushed by the OMON gunmen. They’ve agreed to drop any charges against you.”

“That’s good news,” Natalie said.

“Indeed. I’ve also got a flight plan filed for you to fly from Almaty to Ukhta; it’s the closest airport to Sosnogorsk. It’s cleared here and in Russia. A ground crew will be here to refuel the plane soon.”

The radio crackled into life.

“Zero calling Alpha, come in, Alpha.”

“Alpha here,” Natalie replied as she donned the headset.

“Alpha, listen up. NRO has identified an SS-27 Sickle-B battery deployed in the area where Korskov said. The coordinates are as follows,” Smith relayed the numbers and Natalie wrote them on the back of her hand with a biro.

“They’re indicating at least three TELs in the battery. You need to get there and kill those launchers, ASAP. Good luck and good hunting, Alpha.”

“Roger that, Zero. Out.”

Natalie took the headset off and turned to the Kazakh colonel and Alex.

“We’ve got the coordinates we need. We have to take off as soon as possible.”

“Your plane is cleared for priority take off in five minutes,” the colonel answered. He shook their hands. “Good luck.”

The colonel left.

“How many missiles?” Alex asked.

“At least three transporter/erector launchers, Smith said. That’s got to be at least six missiles. Three to fire and three spare in case of problems,” Natalie answered as they headed for the plane.

The liaison shook hands and wished them luck before they sealed the plane’s rear ramp and it began taxiing out on to the runway.

The converted airliner was soon airborne and heading northeast to Ukhta.

Northern Russia
Several hours later

After arriving in Ukhta, Alex and Natalie had driven to a Land Rover dealership with Tom and purchased two of the off-road vehicles. After returning to the airport, the commandos had transferred to the Land Rovers and raced south.

The off-road vehicles took them along the smaller back-roads until they got within a mile of the coordinates. They went cross-country and then dismounted and ran the last thousand yards until they could see the missile battery.

“Alright, listen up,” Alex said. “Hold your fire until I give the order and advance in single file. When I say, give me some cover and I’ll try to hit the crews first. Let’s try not to shoot the missiles, okay?”

The others nodded and Mack led them off, Alex and Joe close behind in single file.

Each of the commandos was carrying a Colt M16 assault rifle. Alex had an ACOG sight attached to his.

Finally, Mack raised his left fist, halting them.

“Enemy in range, one thousand feet.”

Alex moved up along side him.

The three TELs were dispersed across several square yards of the open field in front of them. A communications relay vehicle and a command post vehicle were parked between them.

Alex sighted on the nearest TEL. No one was in sight; he quickly shifted to scan around the entire battery. No one was in sight.

“Looks deserted,” Mack whispered.

“Let’s move in and take a dekko,” Joe said.

“Alright, but be careful. This could be a set up.”

The group began to slowly make their way forward, weapons raised when a door on the back of the command post vehicle opened and three soldiers jumped out.

One was carrying an AK-103 and quickly raised it.

“Cover!” Mack snapped, diving to the ground. Alex and Natalie fired their M16s before dropping to the ground. The soldier with the Kalashnikov fell. Tom fired his rifle, dropping a second before more soldiers jumped from the vehicle. The a turret on the vehicle’s rear swung around and fired.

The soldiers returned fire; cutting down several of the Russians before ducking behind the TEL they’d been near.

The turret quickly stopped firing.

“We’re pinned down here,” Mack said to the others. “And with the missiles raised for launch, they can fire them off when they want and toast us.”

“Anyone bring any grenades?” Alex asked. The other shook their heads.

“Smoke grenades?” he asked. Again shakes.

“Damn,” he muttered.

“Why didn’t you?” John asked. Alex glowered back at him.

“Because I’m supposed to be the sniper.”

Alex leaned around the rear of the TEL, looking at the command vehicle. A few rounds whipped over his head.

“Give me some cover,” he told the others. "I’ll try going around the front of the vehicle.”

Mack and John lay on the ground and fired at the command vehicle from under its huge wheels. Tom crouched and leaned around its rear end and fired around the tail of the raised missile. Joe stood behind him and leaned over him to fire.

Natalie followed Alex to the front of the TEL and as he dashed toward the command vehicle, she fired several bursts at it to cover his dash.

Alex skidded on the wet grass as he reached the command post. He scrambled on to the top of its cab and clambered over its air conditioning unit on to the top. He reached the first of the windows on the vehicle’s top and fired at it. The glass shattered under the impact of several armour-piercing 5.56mm bullets. Alex then lay atop the vehicle, switched the M16 to full automatic, lowered his arm in, and wildly sprayed the interior until the magazine emptied.

The gun turret stopped firing amid several screams.

The team rushed over to the vehicle as Alex slid off the truck and hurried to the back.

Natalie opened the door to show four soldiers lying in the ruins of the truck. One coughed.

“You may have stopped us,” the soldier said in Russian, blood trickling from his mouth. “But you can’t stop the other battery.”

“What did he say?” Tom asked at Natalie and Alex’s horrified expressions.

“Where are they?” Alex demanded in Russian, grabbing the dying soldier. “Where’s the other battery?”

He laughed, coughing up blood as he did. “Fifty miles south. They launch in ten minutes.”

Alex dropped the soldier to the floor of the vehicle.

“How the hell do we get fifty miles in ten minutes?” he demanded as the commandos moved away from the ruined truck.

“What?” Tom asked.

“They’ve got another battery,” Natalie explained. “Fifty miles south of here.”

Joe pointed to the other side of the furthest TEL. “There’s a helicopter over there.”

Alex and Natalie turned to see the rear end of a Kamov Ka-52 helicopter, visible behind the missile’s tail.

“Can you read Cyrillic?” Alex asked Natalie.

“Yeah.”

“Good, you’re my gunner, I can fly that thing.”

They ran toward the helicopter.

Natalie scrambled into the cockpit of the Kamov as Alex quickly ran around it checking it was ready to fly. Fortunately, it was. He quickly got into the cockpit.

“Okay, point me to the start up system and the gauges,” Alex instructed Natalie as he pulled on the pilot’s helmet.

Natalie quickly pointed out the altimeter, speedo, fuel gauge and the engine starter system.

Alex quickly activated the engines, ran them up to full power and as soon as the rotors reached take-off speed, he lifted off and raced south.

“Activate the radar,” Alex instructed Natalie. “See if you can find the battery.”

Natalie worked at the controls as she hoped she could figure it all out before they reached the battery. She didn’t really have a clue what she was doing.

She managed to find the weapons arming panel and armed the helicopter’s four anti-tank missiles and the unguided rockets.

“Target acquired,” she finally reported. “Gimme two degrees to the left and we’ll be bearing right down on it.”

Alex complied with her directions. “I’m going to give you two passes over the site, strafe them with the rockets first, then I’ll come back for a gun pass.”

“Uh… I can’t figure out the guns,” Natalie confessed.

Alex cursed, “Hope we can nail everything with the rockets then.”

The Kamov streaked over a line of trees and the battery was spread out before them.

Natalie triggered the rockets, hitting the first TEL they approached, then the command post vehicle and then the radio truck.

Suddenly the furthest TEL launched its SS-27. The intercontinental ballistic missile roared skyward on a column of fire.

Alex yanked the Ka-52 around in a tight turn to avoid the missile.

“Get ready to kill that second TEL!” He snapped.

As soon as the Kamov was lined up, Natalie fired a pair of ‘Vikhr’ missiles, known to NATO as AT-16 Scallions. The laser-guided missiles slammed into the TEL and blew the truck apart, shrapnel shredded the fuel tanks of the missile and it detonated.

Alex immediately powered the Ka-52 ‘Alligator’ into a steep climb after the steadily rising SS-27.

“What have we got left?” he asked Natalie.

“Two of the Scallions and a few rockets.”

“No air-to-air missiles?” he asked, sounding disappointed.

“Nope,” she replied.

“Damn, could do with a pair of Archers.”

Alex kept the helicopter aimed at the missile. “Launch the Scallions. That missile should be nearing super-sonic speed by now.”

Natalie fired the two AT-16s as Alex hoped that the ICBM hadn’t passed Mach one, or they’d never reach it.

One of the missiles flew into the blazing exhaust plume of the ICBM and was incinerated. The second detonated near the missile’s body.

The explosion punctured the missile body and it ripped apart.

Alex slew the helicopter around and away from the falling debris.

“Damn, that was close…” he muttered.

Action Man HQ
The next day

The team sat in the briefing room watching the BBC news.

“The Russian government continues to deny any knowledge of a plot to destroy Moscow by renegade generals, despite the reports from London and Washington. Instead, despite eyewitness reports, they claim the missile was destroyed after it went off course during a training exercise. Privately, however, one Russian general said whoever the helicopter crew was, they were the greatest heroes of them all, having saved not only Moscow but also the world from a nuclear nightmare.”

Smith turned the TV off as Alex and Natalie exchanged grins.

“Well done team. But it’s not over for us. Whilst the FSB arrested several of the plotters, Doctor X wasn’t among them. God knows where he’s gone. No-Face is also still out there. With that in mind, I’ve got some news.”

Smith nodded to Trevor who was sitting at the back. The helicopter pilot stood and opened the door. Three men walked in.

First was Jack. He was limping slightly, as he wore a mechanical prosthetic leg.

The other commandos hugged him and slapped him on the back.

“Welcome back, man!” Joe said. He turned to Smith. “Is he going to be a shooter again?”

“Nah, mate,” Jack answered. “Can’t do that. I’ll be staying here, providing you with computer and comms support and advice.”

“Still great to see you around though, man,” Alex said.

“Who are these guys?” Mack asked, gesturing to the other two men who moved past the knot of soldiers to the front of the room.

“These are our new recruits; Mark King and Kul Thapa,” Smith replied. “Mark’s from the Special Forces Support Group while Kul is from the Royal Ghurkha Rifles. Mark was the number eight on my list for the unit. He’s passed SF selection but wasn’t accepted into the SAS yet. He’s marksman rated with a variety of assault rifles and sub-machine guns as well as the M249 SAW, M60E3 and the LSW.”

Mack snorted, “Marksman rated with light machine guns?”

“Yeah,” Mark replied, sounding rather confrontational. “I am.”

“And which is why he’s been picked to join us. He’ll act as the squad fire-support guy.”

“Yeah? What about Conqueror over here?” Alex asked pointing at Kul.

“Conqueror?” Kul asked.

“You not heard of Kull the Conqueror? By the guy who did Conan the Barbarian?” Alex asked. “Damn, you’re missing out.”

Smith cleared his throat. “Sergeant Thapa is airborne qualified, from the time when the RGR were part of 16 Air Assault Brigade. He’s a light infantryman and he’s also a qualified pilot in light planes. Hence why I picked him. Just as we’ve recently seen that it may occasionally come up that we need a helo pilot when Trevor or Ed are unavailable; it’s equally possible that we might need a pilot when Jim and Fiona aren’t around.”

Smith gestured to the seats, “Now, if you’ll sit down, I have more news.”

The soldiers took their seats once more.

“Now, as you’re no doubt aware, SAS operators have been in Yemen providing training and support to Yemeni commandos as part of the government crack-down against al-Qaeda and the separatists in the south. Three days ago, the Yemeni commandos raided a camp believed to have been a forward base for al-Qaeda. It wasn’t,” Smith paused to allow that to sink in. “The camp was found to have been used by a terrorist group known as the Skullmen. This is a new organisation that few know anything about. Propaganda at the camp indicates this group are led by an individual known only as Skull Leader. Apparently Skull Leader intends to crush al-Qaeda in Yemen and the rebel group before overthrowing the government and seizing Yemen.”

“Can’t we let them crush al-Qaeda and the rebels and then do something about them?” John wondered.

Smith gave him a baleful glower.

John looked away. “Guess that’s a ‘no’ then.”

“Skull Leader apparently intends to then use Yemen as a springboard to dominance of the entire Mid East,” Smith concluded. “Copies of the materials were handed over to the UKSF personnel and copies were given to SIS and CIA who are both now trying to investigate this group.”

“How the heck can they think they’ll get away with this?” chipped in Joe. “If they succeed in Yemen and so much as fart in the direction of the Saudi oil-fields, the Yanks’ll come down on them like a ten tonne weight.”

“Apparently Skull Leader claims he has a way to keep America at bay,” Smith answered. “Which is worrying to say the least. We’re sending one of you undercover to infiltrate the Skullmen.”

“I’ll do it,” Mack immediately said.

“I’ll go,” Natalie said at the same time.

“I can do it,” Tom spoke up.

Alex put his hand up, bounced in his chair and said, “Ooo, pick me! Pick me!” in a falsetto voice.

When the others glared at him he smirked, “Come on, you’re like a bunch of kids desperate to be picked for a footie game in the play-ground.”

Smith smiled at Alex. “Actually, Alex, you are my pick. You’re SF qualified and you’re a helicopter pilot. The camp had a Puma helicopter. They’re bound to need a new pilot, so you’re going.”

Alex frowned, but said nothing.

“The rest of you, we’re going to standardise your training levels. Joe, Kul and John will complete SF selection. Every one of you except Mack will train on SCUBA and C-CUBA gear and lock-in/lock-out procedures. John, Joe and Kul will also be HALO and HAHO trained.”

“What’s lock-in/lock-out?” Tom asked.

“Boarding and departing submerged submarines at sea,” Mack replied. “I did it as part of SBS training.”

“What’s hey-ho?” Kul asked.

“High-Altitude High-Opening,” Alex said. “Parachuting from great height. HALO is low-opening.”

“Oh, I know that,” the Ghurkha replied. “I just never heard of HAHO before.”

Alex looked to Smith, “So when am I off to Yemen?”

“As soon as you, me and Natalie can cook up an alias and a cover for you.”

Action Man will return in
Attack of the Skullmen