Night In London (Night Series Book 2)

  Night In London

  By

  Casey Christie

  COPYRIGHT

  This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, downloaded, distributed, leased, licenced or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publisher, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law

  Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly

  Version 1.0

  Published by Casey Christie, 2017

  Copyright © Casey Christie, 2017

  All rights reserved

  Casey Christie has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patent Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work

  This novel is a work of fiction

  In some cases true life figures appear but their actions and conversations are entirely fictitious. All other characters and descriptions of events are the products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons is entirely coincidental

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

  First published in Great Britain in 2017 by

  Casey Christie

  From The Editor

  This is a feast of non-stop action. It moves with the velocity of a breaking wave. And it gains a special impact from the fact that it rings of authenticity. When Casey Christie describes the viciousness and extreme brutality of a criminal gang, he is writing from raw experience. Christie was at the cutting edge of the police drive against criminals in Johannesburg. And we meet again with the colourful crew he assembled in his first novel set in South Africa—the fearsome Black Bastards, so called because they have special police dispensation to wear all-black uniforms. Among them is the heroic Zulu who always carries a tribal assegai as well as his automatic weapon. But this time there is a new villain for Night to contend with---a fiendish schemer, an Englishman based in London, where Captain Night confronts his foe and also meets a mysterious female agent. The author has spiced his bursts of action with non-stop surprises and twists of plot. You’ll never want to put it down.

  About the Author

  Casey Christie is an international security consultant and the founder and managing director of Concept Tactical Worldwide. He is a former reserve member of the South African Police Force where he served in crime hot spots in Johannesburg, winning numerous police awards for outstanding service. He is SWAT certified, accredited in First Aid and government licensed in the United Kingdom as a bodyguard. Casey was trained in close protection and surveillance by former members of the British Army's elite Special Air Service (SAS).

  Casey has a proven track record, having provided security for Royalty, politicians, corporate executives, Hollywood and television celebrities and private individuals.

  He is the author of the non-fiction self-help title, Be Your Own Bodyguard in South Africa, and regularly contributes articles on security related matters to various newspapers and magazines globally.

  Casey is based in London.

  Visit the Concept Tactical Worldwide website http://www.concepttactical.com

  Rank Structure of the South African Police Force

  Senior Management Commissioned Officers

  General - Addressed as General

  Lieutenant General - Addressed as General

  Major General - Addressed as General

  Brigadier - Addressed as Brigadier

  Commissioned Officers

  Colonel - Addressed as Colonel

  Lieutenant Colonel - Addressed as Colonel

  Captain - Addressed as Captain

  Non-Commissioned Officers

  Warrant Officer - Addressed as Warrant

  Sergeant - Addressed as Sergeant

  Constable - Addressed as Constable

  Table of Contents

  Night In London

  From The Editor

  About the Author

  Rank Structure of the South African Police Force

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty One

  Chapter One

  Thunder sounded in the near distance, a second later a bolt of lightning pierced the night sky. The heavens opened and heavy rain began to pelt the large dining room window that looked out onto General Amos Arosi’s garden in the affluent Houghton Estate in Johannesburg, South Africa – the residence of the former President of South Africa, the great Nelson Mandela, only a couple of blocks away. This was the General’s second residence. The sanctuary he kept for his ex-wife and two daughters. The bulky rain drops were striking the surface of the swimming pool like artillery rounds striking the earth in a World War II battle ground. The combined noise of the rain and thunder, well suited the man peering out onto the General’s lawn. He curled his lips into a cynical smile, laughed loudly to himself then downed the full glass of brandy he held in his right hand, with a silver 9MM in his left. He threw the empty glass onto the marble floor and it shattered into a hundred little pieces. The text message he had been waiting for had come through minutes earlier. He headed for the lounge where one of his accomplices was watching television.

  “Marky, turn the TV off and come with me upstairs. It’s time to show that bitch who’s boss!”

  Marky quickly got up and used the remote to mute the television, the light from the General’s flat screen TV being the only form of illumination in the room – the space flashed with images from the action movie now playing.

  “Ah, lekker, my boss! I’ve wanted to fuck that bitch since we got here two days ago. It’s going to be bloody nice to bend her over and make her scream” said Marky.

  His ‘boss’ slapped him around the head and said: “I’m first you little shit, by the time you get to have her she won’t be able to scream.”

  The two men moved swiftly to the spiral staircase and began to climb them two at a time, their animal lust for flesh driving them forward. They reached the master bedroom’s door and pushed themselves through it.

  “What the fuck are you doing, Jabulani!” said the gang’s leader.

  Jabulani was on top of Maria, the General’s former wife, who had been tied to the bed via the head posts with cable ties. Her night gown rode high above her waist, her long blonde hair covering her pale face. Jabulani turned and jumped off his victim and then the bed, quickly pulling his pants up while stru
ggling to stand.

  “Ah, nothing hey boss, I was just getting a little taste. I didn’t fuck her yet. I wouldn’t..” but before he could finish his words, ‘Finger’ as he was known in Alexandra, crossed the room and pistol whipped his minion across the face, splitting his lip.

  “I fuck the bitches first, that’s always the rule!”

  “But, I didn’t even stick it in my boss, I was just tasting her, man..” Finger kicked Jabulani in the groin and the thug fell to the ground in pain. Marky found this to be hilarious and laughed out loud.

  “Where the fuck are the kids and fokken David?” demanded Finger.

  “In here” responded a voice from the master bedroom’s en suite bathroom.

  Finger kicked the door open and looked inside.

  David was lying on his back, fully clothed, in the large bath, a cigarette in his mouth and a pump action shotgun across his lap. Dozens of used cigarette buds lay on the tiled floor and the room was full of smoke.

  “Where are the girls, David?” asked Finger, taking a much more respectful tone.

  “Look behind you, Finger” said David while exhaling a huge cloud of smoke.

  Finger turned and saw the two beautiful twin girls, only 9 years old, sitting on the floor with their backs to the wall behind the door. Both were ‘wearing’ large black refuse bags, naked within, and were clutching their knees, rocking back and forth. The tears long dried around their eyes. Their hands bound with old electrical cord and bleeding from the lacerations. They were both gagged with socks.

  Finger turned back to David and looked nervous, almost. “You haven’t, you know.. have you?”

  “No, Finger, I haven’t. Not yet anyway. I will though when you have that old bitch in there… that’s the deal, remember?” said David as he took another deep drag on his Camel smoke.

  “Ya, that’s the deal” said Finger as he moved towards the terrified children and stroked their hair. He continued “I got the text from our guy at Norwood station, the pig says that the General is about ten minutes away from his house in Hyde Park, he said he always gets dropped off there first by one of the station vehicles, showers, changes and then takes his own car and comes here to see them. Which means we’ve got about 30 minutes to get ready.”

  A sadistic smile crossed David’s lips “so we’ve got plenty of time to have some fun with these girls before he gets here.”

  “No, you idiot. We haven’t touched them yet as I want him to be here when we do. You take Marky and Jabulani downstairs and wait for the General inside the gates, as we have planned, when he pulls in take him. Make sure the gate closes properly first though and don’t shoot – we don’t want to attract any attention. Then bring him up here to the room. I’ll rape his wife while he watches, then you can have them in front of him” he said while pointing with his pistol at the two little girls.

  David laughed and said: “Nice, that’ll break him, after that he’ll tell us everything and we’ll be able to get uSuthane’s cash!”

  “Now go and take the other two with you.. I want to be ready when..”

  A police vehicle’s siren, one double ‘whoop, whoop’ pierced the sound of the heavy rain and thunder. It was coming from the front of the residence.

  David shot to his feet and got out of the bath tub and followed Finger as they exited the bathroom door, locking it behind them, and headed to the bedroom’s window overlooking the front driveway.

  Peering carefully through a small gap in the curtains they saw a Norwood police van at the entrance to the property. The General was the passenger in the two seated vehicle, a young white constable the driver.

  “Shit, shit, shit! What are we going to do now, my boss” said Jabulani looking out from the other end of the window concealed by the curtains.

  “The stupid pig must have lied to me or the General decided to come straight here” said Finger.

  “But what are we going to do now, my boss, the police are here” said Jabulani, clearly panicked.

  Finger turned to his young thug and smacked him across the face with the back of his hand, silencing him at once. Finger held his pistol next to his head seemingly scratching it and said: “Be fucking quiet and let me think.”

  The police vehicle sounded once more, “Whoop, whoop” and Maria’s mobile phone which lay on the bed began to ring.

  “If you run now you can get away through the back. Stay here and you will all die” said Maria in an amazingly composed voice.

  The four criminals turned as one and looked at the General’s former wife.

  After moments of indecision when Maria prayed that they were considering leaving, the gang leader spoke: “David, use the intercom and open the gate, quickly. The pig will probably just drop Arosi off and leave. Jabulani, why is that whore able to speak, close her mouth, now!”

  David quickly moved to the bedroom door where the security intercom was situated, and pushed the “open” button. Jabulani stuffed a sock back into Maria’s mouth and sealed it with tape. Finger watched as the large security gate split into two and swung, ever so slowly, open. Maria’s phone stopped ringing. To Finger’s surprise once the gate was fully open the police vehicle started to pull inside.

  “Fuck, looks like the young pig is coming in with him. Gents, get downstairs and wait behind the main doors, get them as they come in.”

  Without a word the three township gangsters ran downstairs and each readied his own weapon, David cocked his shotgun as softly as he could, Marky produced a small calibre pistol from his waist and Jabulani drew a large butcher’s knife from behind his back. Finger moved to the room next door, where he had been sleeping the night before, stuck his pistol in his belt and picked up his AK47 which was lying across the pillows.

  Norwood Police Station

  Student constable Steven Dlamini was bored and tired. It was a week night, which meant the police station was almost empty of drunks and the weekend violence they brought with them. He was in his third week of compulsory Charge Office Training and his writing hand was sore from filling out accident report forms and commissioning oaths all day. He was due to knock off duty in just half an hour and he was looking forward to it. Ever since The Black Bastards had left on ‘other business’ the only time he had been in a police vehicle was to accompany another senior constable to go pick up some food for the Charge Office Commander. His only small victory was convincing the Norwood Station Commander, Colonel Lembedi, that he needed to carry his State Issue Vector 9MM while he was on duty in the charge office. He was first denied his request but eventually won the Station Commander’s approval after pointing out just how many Police Stations had been attacked this year alone in attempts, some successful, to get at their weapon armouries. He liked and respected Colonel Lembedi. She wasn’t a warrior though, he thought, she was large and broad shouldered and had a commanding presence but preferred rules and regulations to weapons and tactics, but she didn’t even carry her weapon on her while on duty he thought, while shaking his head.

  “But you’re my baby, hey sweetie, you’re always by my side, ready for anything” he said softly, looking down at and stroking his firearm nestled in its holster on his thigh.

  “You’re fucking mad, Dlamini. Do you know that?” said constable Juhu who sat slumped in a chair with his legs stretched over another chair that he had brought close to himself to create a makeshift bed he used to sleep on while on duty. Even though under South Africa law sleeping while on duty was a criminal offence many officers did take a nap.. At first the older commanders tried to enforce the law of not sleeping on duty, imagine that he thought, but now, in the new South Africa so many police officers did it was almost impossible to police. Besides, by now the older commanders had either left or had been fired from the Police ‘service’ as it was now called. And the new commanders, at least some of them, didn’t really care.

  Dlamini ignored Juhu, he hated him and had reported him many times for sleeping while on duty. Nothing had come of the reports though so Dlamini
now just pretended Juhu didn’t exist.

  Steven walked over to where one of the big Afrikaans brothers, the young student constable who nearly beat Steven to the right to ride with the Black Bastards in the Rookie Ringer weeks earlier, sat alert on a stool while staring at the entrance to the police station, waiting for the station’s next ‘client’ as they were now told to refer to members of the public seeking police assistance. He had grown friendly with the boy although he could never remember his name. So he just called him “Farmer”.

  “You know, Steven, you’re not allowed to wear a thigh holster. Only Special Task Force Members are allowed to” said Farmer.

  “Who says?”

  “It’s in the National Police Standing Orders regarding police dress code you know, my brother and I have read them all. Or nearly all of them” Farmer raised his head in self satisfaction and played with a pen between his fingers.

  “Ag man, haven’t you noticed, no one follows those stupid orders. Besides I am going to be part of the Taakies (Nickname for the Special Task Force) one day.”

  Juhu was listening to the students’ conversation and laughed at Dlamini’s high ambitions. Dlamini shot him a glare and walked towards the Radio Room at the back of the station. “I’m going to monitor the Radio. This is boring” he said to his friend as he walked out of the Client Service Area.

  Dlamini reached the Radio Room and found the Charge Office Commander, F/Warrant Officer Lesogo sitting beside her desk with her feet on the table while talking on her mobile phone and a can of diet Coke in her free hand. She was obviously on a private call. Dlamini noticed that the Police Radio had been switched off and the Charge Office’s only landline had its receiver off the hook, effectively blocking all incoming calls. Steven casually walked over to it and put it back on the its cradle while smiling at Warrant Officer Lesogo. She wasn’t impressed.