Jason Steed: Face-Off

  JASON STEED

  FACE OFF

  Mark A. Cooper

  Copyright © 2016 by Mark A. Cooper

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  ISBN-13: 978-1533464941

  ISBN-10: 1533464944

  To Sandra, words could never be enough.

  Table of Contents

  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 One

  “Are you sure they’ll like it?” Jason fretted and grimaced as if in pain.

  “Sure. It’s cool and besides it’s the thought that counts,” Scott quipped. “Anyway they’re still newlyweds so probably just happy having any gift.”

  Jason took the clock from Scott and examined it. The small mantle clock was set in a crystal glass frame, cut to look like a jagged rock face.

  “It’s nearly a hundred pounds. That would be all my money I’ve saved up. I wanted to buy something for myself.” Jason shrieked looking at the price tag. “No, it’s too much.”

  “It’s not every day your dad gets married. I can let you have ten towards it,” Scott suggested.

  Jason looked at the clock again. He had to admit it did look nice and he wanted to get his dad and new step-mother a nice present to welcome them back from their honeymoon. His attention was vanquished by a man tutting behind him.

  “Boys. That is rather expensive. Please put it down before you break it,” chided a tall stuffy shop assistant wearing a skintight black suit. “It’s not a toy.”

  Scott turned and looked up at him, and in his poshest voice drawled. “One would guess you get paid by the owners of Harrods? And they make money from profits selling overpriced clocks like this? Being rude will turn one’s customers away.”

  Scott took the clock from Jason and passed it to the assistant. “Now be a good chap and wrap that up for us old boy. And plu- eeeeeese be careful, some people think it’s rather expensive.”

  The shop assistant’s top lip twitched as he noticed both boys holding back grins.

  Jason held back a snigger and followed Scott and the tall shop assistant to the counter. He opened his wallet and counted out his money and placed it on the counter. He still wasn’t sure if he wanted to buy the clock but felt pressured to go along with it now, mostly because Scott was making a point to the rude stuck-up assistant.

  Outside the store Jason burst out laughing. “You Wombat, you made him look so foolish. That was so embarrassing I’m never going shopping with you again.”

  “Well serves him right; just cause we’re young he thinks we can’t afford to buy anything. He can stick his attitude where the black banana lives,” Scott said matter-of-factly.

  They took a bus to Chelsea Bridge and walked along Grosvenor Road. Jason enjoyed being out in London with Scott. He could forget everything about being a junior spy; it was nice to be a normal boy for once. The two thirteen- year-olds had been best friends for three years now and despite Scott being an extremely intelligent boy, with one of the highest IQs in the country, they seemed to enjoy each other’s company and both made each other laugh at the silliest of things.

  Jason’s father had just married head of SYUI (Scotland Yard Undercover Intelligence) Brenda Hatchet, now Brenda Steed. The couple asked if Jason wanted to join them on the honeymoon in Brazil, but he declined. He stayed home with the housekeeper and spent the week either with Scott or Princess Catherine at Buckingham Palace. The newlyweds would be arriving home Saturday. Jason was set to go back to school in Istanbul, Turkey on Monday. Below the school was Infinity, the secret service spy training facility where Jason spent most of his time.

  The two boys walked back along the River Thames embankment. Scott tried skimming a pebble across the River Thames. Jason laughed at his failed attempt; Scott’s large brown eyes narrowed and he twisted his lips. He was never any good at practical things and sports.

  As they walked further along the bank of the Thames, Jason suddenly had a sense that they were being watched. He stopped in his tracks and looked around. Tall office buildings surrounded the river Thames, each one fighting for space, and among them a seething mass of population moving in different directions with a sense of urgency. The noise of the city amplified his nerves.

  A small boat chugged up the river against the current and a man with a dog walked ahead of them. Jason shrugged it off at first but it was nagging him. He had always trusted his instincts. On more than one occasion it had saved his life.

  “Come on, let’s get a taxi home,” Jason suggested.

  “What. A taxi?” Scott said looking surprised. “I thought you spent nearly all your money?”

  “You owe me ten pounds. You can pay,” Jason laughed.

  “That’s a loan to help pay for your dad’s present not to waste on a cab fare. We can take the bus,” Scott argued.

  Jason walked on ahead and back up to the street. Scott ran to catch up with him.

  Something snapped, just missing his ear, and a microsecond later, he heard the discharge of a rifle. The bullet had reached him faster than its sound. The plastic Harrods bag containing the new glass clock exploded and was ripped from Jason’s hand. Glass, metallic cogs and springs from the clock scattered across the sidewalk.

  Jason spun and threw himself on top of Scott. A second bullet smashed into the sidewalk, missing Jason by less than an inch and ricocheting up into the air.

  “Run,” Jason shouted pulling himself and Scott to their feet. Desperation pushed Jason into madness; he bolted straight out into the busy street. A green truck bore down on him, horn pumping harder than its brakes, headlights flashing. Half blinded Jason dodged past it, taking Scott with him. Both boys sprinted down the street; Jason continued to run in the direction of oncoming cars dragging Scott along by his arm. Many screeched to a halt; more angrily honked their horns at the two boys. Some drivers shouted abuse at them. Jason ignored them, running between them closely followed by Scott hoping to dodge any more bullets.

  A windshield smashed, the bullet narrowly missing Jason; he knew it was too close and at any second he or Scott would be killed. Jason stopped and ducked down in front of a car. The frustrated driver slammed the palm of his hand on the horn and kept pressing.

  Scott ducked down besides Jason. “Who’s shooting us?” Scott panted above the sound of the horn.

  The traffic had stopped. Another shot shattered the windshield of the car they were hiding behind.

  “No idea, keep down. It’s got to be someone up in one of the office blocks,” Jason said. He crawled around to the driver’s door, lay on his back and kicked up at the driver’s door mirror hard. After several heavy blows it broke free and lande
d on Jason.

  The driver got out. “Who the hell do you think you are? You will pay for that.” He shouted at Jason. Another shot rang out and the driver collapsed, screaming in pain holding his shoulder.

  “Stay down,” Jason told the injured man placing the man’s hand on the injury. “Keep pressure on it.”

  Jason slowly raised the mirror at an angle just above the hood of the car. Using it as a periscope he searched the rooftops.

  He noticed movement on the building directly above them. A figure with what Jason assumed was a highly powerful rifle stood there. In the distance sirens could be heard. Jason crawled back around to the front of the car. Scott was practically under the front fender trying to keep clear of the bullets.

  “Someone’s on the roof with a rifle,” Jason

  said.

  “He’s after you. He’s not shooting at anyone else.” Scott suggested.

  “Yeah I think so,” Jason nodded.

  The gunman opened fire again, pounding the car with bullets.

  “He’s gonna hit the fuel tank at this rate,” Scott said and no sooner had he finished when the back of the car exploded lifting it several feet in the air.

  Jason and Scott were thrown clear but were now out in the open. Jason caught Scott’s arms and lifted him to his feet and started running between the congested stationary traffic.

  Bullets ricocheted around them; more windshields shattered. People on the street screamed and started to run. Some of the drivers had fled their cars trying to find cover. Jason and Scott ducked down behind a large white van. The sound of police sirens grew louder, coming from all directions.

  Jason sat with his back against the van with Scott.

  “Always do the opposite of what they suspect. That’s what Wong Tong always told me.” Jason said climbing to his feet.

  “What?” Scott asked. “Get back down here you’ll get shot.”

  “Stay here and tell the police where I went., I’m going after the shooter,” Jason said taking off.

  “No. Jason,” Scott shouted at his friend.

  Jason sprinted towards the building where he had noticed the assassin. It was the London & Oxford Bank building. He ran up to the double glass doors and was surprised when they opened automatically.

  Inside customers and bank employees were peering out the doors and windows.

  “Come here sonny. You’ll be safe in here,.” A woman encouraged. Jason suspected she worked at the bank; she was in her mid-thirties and had a name badge on her chest.

  Jason stopped and took in his surroundings; the bank was immaculate, glass and polished brass rails seem to be everywhere, and to his right he noticed a sign to the emergency exit. He ignored the woman and headed for them.

  Once through the door, he came into the stairwell. Unlike the immaculate lobby, the stairway was painted a dirty grey color; the concrete stairs were covered in dust. It was cold and unwelcoming, a stark difference from the bank’s interior.

  Jason raced up the stairs, taking two steps with every powerful stride. Each floor had a sign informing him what floor he was on. After the sixth floor he started to pant heavily.

  As he approached the seventh floor he could hear footsteps. Someone was coming down towards him; any moment and they would meet.

  Although he was hoping to run into him, the man still made Jason jump. Jason wasn’t sure who was the most surprised, the man running down or himself. He looked about forty; dark slicked back hair was tied in a ponytail. He was wearing all black clothing and carrying a guitar case. However, Jason suspected this man was no musician.

  “You.” The man gasped in total surprise before swinging the case in Jason’s direction. Jason ducked; the case crashed into the wall and split open emptying its contents. A British-made high-powered Enfield rifle complete with sights smashed on the steps next to Jason.

  The man leaped forward and pulled out a knife from his waistband. Before he could use it Jason dropped to the ground, and swung his legs around knocking his opponents’ legs away. The man groaned as he fell heavily onto his back on the edge of the concrete steps.

  Jason pounced, landing with his right knee in the man’s chest. His nose exploded like a squashed tomato as Jason’s fists rained down on him. Each strike was powerfully delivered with as much force as Jason could muster. Within a few seconds the would-be assassin’s arms flopped to the side of his body, lifeless.

  Jason carefully picked up the knife and climbed off his victim, making sure he was not moving. Jason searched the unconscious mans pockets. He found a hand full of money and a hotel room key. He could hear shouting below in the stairwell and the thundering of feet racing up the stairs. He counted out one hundred pound in notes and put it in his own pocket along with the hotel room key. The rest of the money he put back in the unconscious man’s pocket.

  “This will replace the clock you shot.” Jason said climbing to his feet. He picked up the rifle and studied it; it was much heavier than he had expected.

  As the sound of running feet got closer Jason placed it back down safely away from the unconscious assassin and looked over the handrail. He could see at least four police officers running up the stair well.

  “It’s okay; he’s not going anywhere,” Jason shouted down.

  When they arrived at the scene Jason was sitting on the steps inspecting the knife and looking down at them.

  “Hi ya,” Jason smiled. “I’m Jason and this is the guy who shot up London.”

  Two red-faced police officers stopped in their tracks and looked at Jason with the knife in his hand and the man lying across the stairs with blood splattered over his face.

  “Alright son, put the knife down; you don’t want to hurt anyone else.”

  Jason gently placed it down on the ground. “His rifle is there; it’s an Enfield, not sure what caliber.”

  Chapter Two

  Jason had quite a lot of explaining to do to the police. They found it hard to believe that Jason was the intended victim. The police really didn’t believe him and found it even harder to believe a boy so small could have taken the assassin down. Under police guard the would-be assassin was rushed to the hospital; not only was his nose broken, but his head was cut open at the back. It had hit the edge of a concrete step and the pounding Jason gave him made it worse.

  At one point they were going to arrest Jason on assault charges until Scott waved his SYUI ID card. The card for Scotland Yard Undercover Intelligence was given to Scott so he could gain access to the building when Jason was working undercover.

  Jason thought the police didn’t believe that Scott’s card was actually real until they made a call to SYUI. They simply told them to keep Jason and Scott at the local police station safe until a car arrived to pick them up.

  A spotty-faced police officer walked into the interview room where Jason and Scott were waiting. Scott was looking at the hotel room card that Jason had taken. The young policeman sniffed and strutted into the room looking at the two boys.

  “So what’s the story then?” he asked trying to look tough. “How come you two kids got an SYUI ID card and how come you’re not being charged with assault? You nearly killed that geezer.”

  “I can’t say sir,” Scott said. “And I don’t think you should be asking should you?”

  The spotty policeman took a pace towards Scott and glared at him. Before he could say anything the door opened and another policeman walked in. He was older and by his uniform Jason guessed a high-ranking officer.

  He was holding Scott’s ID card and waved it at the two boys.

  “I have so many questions but for some reason I have been asked,” he paused. “No ordered, to keep you boys safe until a car from SYUI gets here. Who are you boys? Why would someone be shooting at you? And what’s the connection with you and SYUI?”

  Scott snatched his card back from him and placed it on the table; he pointed at the security clearance in the top left hand corner.


  “Do you see that sir?” Scott asked and before he could get an answer continued. “Level seven clearance. I don’t wish to be rude but you are level what? Level four, five?”

  The officer went bright red before stuttering. “Level three if you must know.”

  “Then let’s leave it at that sir,” Scott urged.

  Jason was embarrassed; he liked the police and felt he was part of them. He didn’t want to appear rude but Scott had a point.

  “Very well young man. But if this ID turns out to be fake you are in a lot of trouble. I’ve worked with SYUI and know most of them.”

  Jason and Scott waited for thirty minutes before Matt Hirsh from SYUI appeared with the same high-ranking officer.

  “Hi Matt,” Scott smiled.

  “Scott, Jason. You boys okay?” Matt asked before turning to the officer. “Yes, they’re with us. This is Scott Turner. Let’s just say he helps out sometimes and Jason here,” he paused. “Well he’s Brenda Steed’s stepson, and that’s all you need to know about him. I’ll take them with me and debrief them.”

  “Brenda Steed?” The officer asked rolling on his heels.

  “Yes Brenda Steed. You may know her as Brenda Hatchet head of SYUI; she just got married to Jason’s father.”

  Jason said nothing; he wasn’t nervous but annoyed that an assassin had targeted him. He was sure that Matt and SYUI knew nothing of his involvement with Infinity and the secret spy school he went to.

  As far as his father and new stepmother knew he was just attending a good private school in Istanbul, Turkey. However under the school was a labyrinth of underground levels, secret to the outside world where students with special abilities like Jason would attend. Many of the students would go grow up to be world leaders, military commanders and all work for the better good. Infinity agents discovered a lot of the intelligence against Adolf Hitler in the Second World War.

  Scott and Jason gave statements to Matt. Jason was refused permission to question the would-be assassin. He was still recovering with serious head injuries and handcuffed to a hospital bed with around the clock security. SYUI checked the hotel room with the key Jason had taken, but found nothing to give away who he was working for.