Most people think of the United Nations as a toothless tiger, a novel idea. U.N X7 was formed as the last act of outgoing Secretary-General Kofi Annan in 2006 as a counterpoint to the US’s almost underhanded ways of manipulating the UN. A small, secret, multinational team answering to the Secretary-General operating out of Geneva was formed. These are there stories…
**
Chad, Central Africa, 10km west of Um Dukhun, 2013
“Sound off!” said the voice through the earpieces of the team.
“Zack!”
“Kelly!”
“Lisa!”
“Jessie!”
“Slater!”
“Where’s Screech?”
“Just taking a whiz! Screech, here present whatever!”
“Listen up. Your objective will be uploaded into your eyewear, as it does I shall explain, just in case there are any misunderstandings. Your target is the leader of the Sudani Liberation Front one Mohamed Adam al Khamis. He is to be totally eliminated! Those special bullets you all have are to be used when engaging. Secondary targets are Abdul al Shafi Khan, Hassan bin Khamis and Osman Mohamed Madut.”
“Copy that Mr Belvedere!” replied Zack, better known as Captain Jayden Washington from Blackwater Arizona. He tapped his high-tech sunglasses watching the images.
“I haven’t finished Zack! Asides from Slater, you all stand out like a fat cheerleader. This part of the world, white means meal ticket. So cover up and lay low. From the eyes in the sky your target is roughly ten kilometres due east.”
“Any particular reason you’re not using a drone Mr B?” asked Kelly aka Special Agent Jasmine Fang of Kaifeng China as she checked her weapon.
“Drones kill everyone,” replied the voice in their ears “We only need one dead, four if we’re lucky.”
“So I’m basically solo?” moaned the tall, dark Tareq Traoré assigned the call sign of Slater.
“No Slater, it’s not. But you’ll probably be on point. Do you have a problem with that?”
“No Mr Belvedere,” he moaned as he checked the objectives on his glasses.
“You have ten kilometres of harsh terrain ahead, possible land mines also. Dawn is in two hours. Unless it goes wrong there will be radio silence from our end from….now.”
“Okay, let’s move!” yelled Zack and U.N X7 moved out.
**
United Nations, Geneva, Bunker #7
“How are we proceeding?” asked Secretary-General Klaus Ekéus as he entered the bunker through the sliding metal doors. The four technicians who watched a wall of screens stood up, one crossing the floor to greet him.
“Very good Secretary-General. X7 is in place and on route.”
“Excellent…” he paused looking for a name badge “My apologies, I’ve forgotten your name.”
“Don’t apologise sir, it’s the way it should be. This mission, my name is Mr Belvedere. It runs with the anonymity of this department giving you plausible deniability.”
“You don’t look English,” replied the Secretary-General noting the man’s distinct Mediterranean appearance.
“Just a code name sir. This mission, all the names are from a nineties American television show called Saved By The Bell.”
Klaus smiled politely “I have never seen it.”
Mr Belvedere smiled “You don’t have to sir, they’re just code names. It’ll change every mission. Now we should have results by dawn, Sudanese time of course.”
“Of course.”
“Which is about two hours from now,” Mr Belvedere checked his watch and the screens “Do you have any other orders?”
“No, just checking to see how things were progressing before I have dinner with that pompous fool from the US State Department.” Ekéus groaned and fidgeted with his thinning silver hair.
“Mr Kerry?”
“Yes the one who looks like Frankenstein! Table manners of an ox,” Ekéus took Mr Belvedere’s hand and firmly shook it “Please send word of any news; it will save me from a long boring dinner as he prattles on about how much money America gives to the U.N.”
“I will sir.”
“Do you take suggestions?”
Mr Belvedere looked a little perplexed “Sir, we take your orders. If there is so…”
The Secretary-General held his hand up “If your missions have code names of television shows, please consider on my favourite from Sweden, Rederiet.”
Mr Belvedere smiled “I will sir. Anything else?”
“Did you have the information I req…” he stopped speaking as Mr Belvedere handed him an Ipad.
“The passcode is your date of birth sir followed by three random questions.”
“Like usual. Thank you.” Ekéus quietly left as the command bunker got back into action.
**
Klaus typed in his birth date [07071945] and waited. The encryption ran and the first question popped up. What is the capital of Angola? Klaus smiled as the timer started and typed in [Luanda] and waited for the next one. What animal do you liken Tajikistani President Emomalii Rahmon too?[Panda]Train A leaves the station at 4pm and is travelling 40 mph and Train B leaves the station at 8pm, travelling 60mph, how many hours will it take for Train B to pass train A. Klaus scratched his head, maths was never his strong suit. The timer, which only was thirty seconds long to start with, was racing towards zero and failure to answer meant the small Semtex charge inside the Ipad would detonate. He exhaled and tapped the keyboard in frustration. Time raced into five seconds remaining, so he typed [8hours] and held the device against the car window hoping that if he was wrong he would only lose his hand.
“God kväll Klaus.” The automated Swedish voice said causing him to breathe a sigh of relief. He sat the device on his lap and opened the file on North Korea as he was driven across Geneva to his dinner function.
**
Um Dukhun, Sudan
“This is Screech; I got a visual on a towel head.”
“You’re a racist!” barked Kelly through her comms “Position?”
“Can’t you read a map sweet cheeks?” he laughed “About five hundred metres on your left.”
“Enough flirting you two!” said Zack over the airwaves “Everyone except Slater converge on Screech for a confirm. Slater?”
“Go ahead?”
“Anything?”
“Just the token black man walking calmly towards the lion’s den Zack.”
“That’s a good ni…” Screech’s comment was ended when Lisa, in reality the French operative Amelie Dupree, cracked him across the back of the head with her rifle butt. He spun and grabbed her by the throat when Zack, Kelly and Jessie’s guns pointed at the tall blonde Australian.
“Why aren’t you wearing your hood?” snarled Zack grabbing Screech by the ear and twisting “Seriously are you an idiot?”
“Get. Your. Hands. Off. Me.” growled Screech as he went nose to nose with his commanding officer. Zack pushed him away roughly.
“You okay?”
Lisa rubbed her neck “I’m fine. Maybe one day we put Steve Irwin in the ground.”
“Any time French fry!” Screech pulled his balaclava on.
“ENOUGH!” seethed Zack. “Where’s the target Screech?”
Screech pointed towards a jeep where four men sat smoking cigarettes. Zack’s and everyone else’s glasses confirmed a visual on Osman Mohamed Madut.
“What do we do about the other three?” asked Jessie.
“Just kill’em!” quipped Screech raising his rifle.
“So sick of Outback $#%^$ Jack!” muttered Jessie to Zack as she pointed her gun towards Screech. Zack calmly nodded in the negative as he lowered her weapon and pointed to the jeep.
“Eyes on the prize Jessie. Listen up; we are not cleared for collateral so it’s pure ninja.” Zack shouldered his rifle “Osman is the only one on the menu. Slater?”
“Go!”
“We’re going dark, so don’t die until we get back.”
“Copy that!”
Slowly, like shadows UNX7 moved towards the quintet on the jeep.
To be continued...
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