Alex Lawson(woking title) Chapter 1

Chapter 1

         Alex Lawson sped down the motor way at ninety miles per hour in pursuit of a seemingly ancient Land Rover jeep going at what looked like its maximum speed of seventy miles per hour. 
“Take it easy Alex,” he said to himself as he sat alone in the car, “we’ve got ‘em, they’re not getting away in that pile of rubble.”  Alex tapped the dash board of his Audi TT affectionately just as he caught an unmistakeable glimpse of a barrel of a rifle out of the corner of his eye.  As he turned his head for a better look he heard the dreadful phhhht sound of his left rear tyre being shot.  He snapped his head back to the road and frantically struggled to regain control of the machine.  He eased off the accelerator and swerved into the first lane.  The shot had been fired from the outside lane and Alex wanted to get as many cars as possible between him and those deadly bullets.
He snatched another glance out of his right hand window, his pursuer had had to slow down to match his pace ultimately was getting a number of toots from horns for going too slowly in the outside lane.  Alex watched is he came into the second lane which was currently clear of cars and looked on in horror as the rifle barrel came out of the window once again. 
Alex thought frantically what he could do.  He was just about managing to keep control of his Audi with one tyre blown out, another shot from the gun and he would swerve into the barrier for sure, that would be if the gunman was that merciful, at this range a shot to the head was not out of the question.  He glanced briefly once more to study the weapon in the hands of the gunman, a Dragunov sniper rifle unless Alex was very much mistaken.  That did not improve the situation.  The weapon could easily cause enough damage to the engine or fuel tank to cause an explosion if the gunman felt that way inclined.
Alex realised that his chances of survival were not good if he simply kept driving and hoped for the best.  It was time to act.  He reached down to open the glove compartment and withdrew a Beretta Px4 Storm semi-automatic handgun.  It had a silencer already in place and Alex gripped it in his right hand before taking aim.  He shot two 9mm bullets, both into the chest of the man holding the rifle.
The gunman recoiled in agony, throwing the driver of the vehicle off balance and causing him to swerve back out into the outside lane.  Alex then realised that he had timed the shots perfectly as he saw a sign to his left telling drivers that the next junction was approaching.  He took a last mournful look at the car and hoped he had not killed the gunman.  It was not that he was not licensed to carry his pistol, but he felt a sense of cold ruthlessness every time he had to end someone’s life prematurely in the course of his work.  Still, he thought, better him than me, he should have known what he was getting into before he started trying to shoot a British agent off the road.  And with that thought, Alex turned carefully off the motorway and approached the upcoming roundabout.
It was time to assess the damage that the mysterious vehicle with the now-wounded gunman had done to Alex’s course.  He knew that he had to change cars as he could get no where quickly in his Audi.  He pulled over to the side of the road and pulled out his mobile phone.  He quickly dialled the number which he always dialled when he wanted things “taken care of” was the phrase he liked to use. 
“Hello? Yes it’s Lawson here, I’ve encountered a little trouble on the M4.  Yes, hostile vehicle, two tangos, one wounded if not killed.  They carried on past junction twenty four so have some men ready to pick them up in the surrounding area, I would be very interested in finding out who they were sent by.  Okay, and one more thing could you get some kind of tracking on the jeep I was pursuing? Yes thank you, I lost it in the fire fight and now I can’t go anywhere fast with the wheel as it is.  Yes, registration number M757 GFD.  Got that? Okay thanks, I’ll try and regain contact once I’ve fixed my tyre up.  Lawson out.”
It was always the same voice on the other end of the line as well, a man’s voice, dry and monotone.  Never an ounce of expression, never even a query about the details of what Alex was telling him.  Alex supposed that it was a requirement of the job; one must be totally emotionally disconnected.  Not too dissimilar to what he had to be himself Alex thought as he undid his seat belt and climbed out of the car.  Only the man on the phone didn’t have to experience the horrors that espionage threw up first hand; he only had to have them described to him.
*
As he sat in the dark confines of his Audi, staring out to the Land Rover he had been following earlier in the day, Alex thought about what he was doing there, he had been sent to spy on a Korean diplomat and so far the only places he had been to were to an abandoned warehouse and now here, to a detached house in the suburbs of London. 
         What did it all mean? Unfortunately he hadn’t been able to get a closer look at the warehouse in fear of the jeep getting away with no-one following it, and he had a sneaky suspicion that it was not as abandoned as it looked.  Now was not the time to be asking questions however as he twisted the lens on his binocular to bring it into focus, now was the time to sit, wait and watch.
         Movement.  The front door opened a fraction, a thin finger of light spreading out over the neatly mown lawn.  The Korean diplomat came out, followed by two burly looking men each with a Walther P99 semi-automatic in their hands.  They walked about half-way to the car and stopped.  Alex watched on in disbelief as they all turned to look up directly to where Alex was sat in his car, a good half-mile away on a hill.  He had been so careful so as not to give off any light and simply could not see how they knew he was there.  Something wasn’t right he told himself, first he had been chased on the motor way and now he had been spotted once again.  Either he wasn’t using very good spying techniques or the Korean diplomat knew one too many secrets from the British Intelligence agency, and it certainly wasn’t the former, because Alex Lawson was the best in the service. 
         For the second time that day, Alex had to make a quick decision.  He didn’t want to compromise his mission by doing anything stupid like shooting needlessly at the Korean and his bodyguards, nor did he want to stay where he was like a sitting duck and wait for them to start shooting at him.  He rested his hand on the butt of the M24 sniper rifle he had picked up from his flat on the way to his current position.  He knew that if he had to, he could take all three men stood below him out in less than ten seconds, before they had chance to find cover.  But he didn’t want to shoot unnecessarily, and so he waited, watching the Korean and his bodyguards watch him. 
         His bodyguards.  What drew his attention to them? They were not Korean, that much was clearly evident.  They looked almost British, but not British, no, they were too impressive.  Both built heavily, but not ripped with muscle, just big.  They both had shaved heads, and it was then that it hit Alex as to where they were from.  He looked at their eyebrows.  Blonde.  That meant that they would have blonde hair.  They were the model Aryan race, Hitler’s beloved Aryan race, the so-called superior race.  Blonde hair, blue eyes, tall, masculine, Hitler had of course none of these attributes, but they were a part of his Final Solution.  That’s why Alex had thought of British he realised, Britain being geographically an Aryan country.
         Suddenly Alex stopped short, his mind flashed back to the warehouse he had followed his Korean diplomat to earlier today.  What had he seen on one of the walls? Lots of graffiti, it hadn’t struck him then, he hadn’t even really taken it in, but now as he thought about it he subconsciously saw the wall filled with graffiti.  There was the usual jumble of artistically drawn names and a few obscenities, but the newest, boldest and most frequent symbol on the wall was a swastika.  The Nazi insignia. 
         “Oh shit,” Alex said as his blood ran cold at the thought.  It did not take a genius to work out that if there were Nazi thugs acting as bodyguard to Korean diplomats, then there was likely to be trouble soon. 
         Alex stared through his binoculars and watched silently, not daring to breathe as he saw what he did not want to see.  The car which had chased him down and shot out his rear wheel on the motorway just pulled up next to the Korean.  Out of the driver’s door got another skinhead, carrying the same Dragunov which had been aimed at Alex’s head just a few hours ago.  This time Alex knew that they would no be aiming for his tyres.  He was becoming a nuisance and had to be taken care of.  The Korean could not risk having whatever Alex had learnt (which in truth was very little) being passed onto his superiors in the government.
         Alex raised the M24 and rested the butt in the crook of his elbow.  The exhaled slowly, and looked through the telescopic sight.  He held his breath as he levelled the cross hairs onto the man with the Dragunov, which was now pointed at Alex, and fired once.  He quickly adjusted his aim and took out one of the bodyguards, and then the other.  He then exhaled and searched out the Korean who had taken shelter behind the Land Rover he travelled around in. 
         Now then, thought Alex, what shall I do about this one? Without dwelling on his options, Alex fired two shots.  Alex smiled as he watched the Korean open his mouth in agony at having both of his kneecaps being blown apart.  He then put the gun back onto the passenger seat and started up the engine of his Audi.  He sighed resentfully.  It was going to be a long night.