No Russian

[Comrade Chris]

No Russian

 

There he was, lying there dead. With three bullets in hishead! Lukas Ibramovic kicked the door down, he entered and his OMON teamfollowed, he rushed to the body of Alexei Cheznokov, “DAMN,†he shouted, “Itwas Zakhaev who shot him, I can tell, this place stinks of cheap aftershavefrom the Moscow Airport Duty Free, Zakhaev frequently visits there, jetting offto his top secret bases all over the world.†His OMON team laughed and Borakov,the Sergeant, said, “He thinks we know nothing of his little excursions toEurope, in fact it is he who knows nothing of our monitoring activities!†Therest of the team nodded in agreement. Ibramovic called in the Forensic Unitfrom the FSB. Within minutes they told him that the bullets were from a Kalashnikovassault rifle, Ibramovic thought of the most obvious one, the AK47.

 

The Russian Government had been keeping tabs on the 30 yearold drug baron, Ibrahim Zakhaev for a fair few years now, as soon as they heardof his shady cannabis deals in the UK and Europe. He had steadily advanced fromcannabis and had moved onto more serious drugs, like cocaine. From these shadydeals, he became very rich and set up his drug empire; he was born in downtownMoscow, where drugs were so common it was frequently referred to as “SmackheadTown†by the richer inhabitants of Moscow. When he was just 10 both his parentshad been murdered by a group of FSB agents working for the government, theywere both heavily involved with a gang, and dabbled with drugs many a time. Thiswas enough evidence for the government to be able to arrest them, the agentsweren’t interested in arresting them, they were the type who killed forpleasure.

 

Zakhaev was on his Aeroflot flight, in the first classsection, leaving Moscow to go to London for a week or two, to visit his dealersthere, and to get away from the OMON agents that he knew would have found thebody of Alexei Cheznokov by now. He wondered if the Russians had bothered tocontact Interpol yet, if they had then he would have to keep a very low profilein London as there would be police everywhere, trying to hunt him down. Finallyhe arrived at Heathrow Airport.

 

He disembarked his plane and got through customs, using afake passport, of course. His driver was waiting for him in the arrivals area.He got into the back of his luxury Jaguar XF and they started driving, Zakhaevthen asked his driver, “Do the police here know of the murder yet?†The drivercalled an accomplice at the other end of a phone, knowing that Zakhaev wouldask that very question, the phone line was encrypted so it was pretty safe tomake calls about this type of subject on. The driver then asked the accomplice.“Do they know?†The accomplice took a few seconds to re-check the PoliceNational Computer, then he replied with a simple “No.†Zakhaev urged his driverto tell him the answer, the driver responded, “The police force here arecompletely clueless!†Zakhaev was pleased but then it dawned on him that theywould find out soon. Zakhaev looked through the rear windscreen, he saw nosuspicious looking cars other than the one that had two men in, one speakingthrough a radio, the other driving…

 

Back in Russia however, a crack squad of FSB agents hadstormed Zakhaev’s only known place of residence in Russia. They broke the doordown, the only thing they found was a note, it read:

 

“If youare reading this, I have left the country, good luck finding me!

YoursFaithfully

IbrahimZakhaevâ€

The note was bagged and tagged by the FSB team, they searched andsearched, they found nothing else, they concluded that the raid had been atotal waste of time and that Lukas Ibramovic should have figured out that hewouldn’t have stayed in the country after he had murdered Cheznokov.

 

Zakhaev’s car turned down a road that led to an industrial estate,Zakhaev owned one of the warehouses there, and he used it as a storehouse forhis drugs. It was on the far side of the estate, it took a good 10 minutes toget to. They finally reached the warehouse, only to find it surrounded bypolice and cordoned off, “S**T,†Zakhaev shouted, “Someone told the policeabout this warehouse, they will be eliminated.â€

 

Rob Carlington tossed and turned in his bed that night, he wassweaty, very sweaty. It was 2:30 am and he laid awake, eyes fixated on theceiling, staring at nothing. Suddenly, he sat up, heart soaring, he realised ithad all been his imagination. He got out of bed and took a shower, the waterwas cold, but he didn’t care, his sweat had congealed on his skin, forming aslippery, thin layer on his skin, he washed it off and got out of the shower,dried and got dressed. Then he went to the local off license and bought fourbottles of Smirnoff, he went back to his flat and drank himself stupid. Hislandlord found him lying on the floor, peacefully sleeping at 7am.

 

Zakhaev was at his swish Kensington flat when he got the call froman anonymous phone, the caller spoke loudly and clearly, his words were, “Theyknow about the murder, meet me at the McDonalds on Trafalgar Ave, be there at11pm, come alone.â€

 

British Telecommunications Technical Support Call Centre, 10pm. Itwas Rob Carlington was sat there, it was his shift, he liked the night shifts,not many calls. He loved his job, but hated some of the people he had to dealwith on the phones. His shift had started at 9pm and finished at 11. For himthe time flew by, the same could not be said for Ibrahim Zakhaev though….

 

Zakhaev called two of his most trusted bodyguards, theircodenames: Charlie-Lima and Delta-Foxtrot. They arrived at his flat withinminutes, they got in Zakhaev’s Jaguar XF that was waiting outside and theydrove down to the McDonalds on Trafalgar Ave. They got out, and as soon as theJag had gone, several bullets came flying over their heads, “GET TO COVER!â€Zakhaev shouted. Charlie-Lima dived to the floor and got his SCAR H out andstarted returning fire. Zakhaev did not know that he was fighting CO19,London’s top armed unit, and not a rival drug gang. Delta-Foxtrot took coverbehind a Ford Fiesta that happened to be parked in the alley and also shot atthe police using his Desert Eagle. Zakhaev was taking cover behind anindustrial bin when the stun grenade came flying over his head and landed rightbehind him, he didn’t notice it until it exploded, his vision went blurry, andall he could hear was a ringing noise in his ears, he was only like this forabout 30 seconds, but to him it felt like forever. He came out of his shortdaze, picked his MP5K and started blindly shooting in the direction that theCO19 fire was coming from. Zakhaev heard a scream, he looked and saw thatDelta-Foxtrot was lying on the floor with blood spurting from his shoulder.Zakhaev’s heart was racing and his mind was manic, “What if Charlie-Lima goesdown too, I’ll be captured! That cannot happen!!†he said to himself. Then herealised that he could always call his driver on his encrypted phone network sohe ripped his HTC Wildfire S from his pocket and called his driver, “Get to theMcDonalds now,†he shouted. A matter of seconds later, his Jag skidded to ahalt, he pulled the door open and jumped in, should he get Charlie-Lima, no,there was no time, he needed to get out of here. “Drive,†he shouted at hisdriver, and the car sped off into the distance.

 

“Didyou get him?†Lukas Ibramovic asked the CID officer over the phone.

 

“Wegot one of his bodyguards,†the CID man replied.

 

“Idon’t care about his bodyguards,†Ibramovic said, “Did you get IbrahimZakhaev?â€

 

“I’llneed to ask my boss, ‘ang on a sec, mate†he put the phone onto the desk andshouted “Oi boss, this Russian nutter wants a word with you!â€

 

“Justcoming,†replied his boss “Hello, is that Mr Ibramovic?†the boss said down thephone.

 

“Yes,yes it is, did you kill or arrest Zakhaev?†said Lukas

 

“Umm,no we didn’t, anyway, I have to go now busy, busy, pleasant talking to youLukas, goodbye!†and with that, the boss put the hung up and put the phonedown.

 

 

Zakhaevwas paranoid now, the cops knew his whereabouts and he couldn’t trust anyoneanymore. He decided that he must flee the UK, but how, Border Control would knowall about him now, there was no way that they would let him pass. He rememberedan old friend who was a people smuggler, maybe he could hitch a ride back toRussia with him. He called him and arranged the deal, he would be back in hishomeland in 7 days time.

 

 

Rob’sbody lay there. Blood trickling from his smashed skull. Paramedics arrived anddeclared him dead at the scene, the police were treating this as a suspiciousdeath. Forensics said that a blunt instrument had killed Mr Carlington, abaseball bat, maybe. A few fibres were found on the carpet beside the body, thepolice managed to trace these back to a criminal that was already on the NPC,he was arrested just 2 weeks prior to the incident for aggravated assault andgrievous bodily harm outside a nightclub in greater Manchester. He had beenreleased without charge. This man was very closely associated with a Russian drugdealer, Mr Ibrahim Zakhaev…

 

 

Zakhaevwas at a safe house in Hamburg, Germany when the body was discovered, it wasall over the news. He didn’t care, after all it wasn’t him who had done thedirty work, it was Brucie Talkoma. In 2 days he would be safely tucked away inSt Petersburg, where the authorities would never find him. He climbed into thelorry that would be taking him to Russia, to where an escort would be waitingto take him to St Petersburg.

 

 

Whenhe finally arrived in St Petersburg, Zakhaev had not expected there to be thismany police officers there. He got slightly nervous but decided that he wouldbe fine in his safe house. He hurried inside and jumped onto the bed, for 4hours he just lay there, until there was a knock at the door, he ran into thehidden room to avoid being seen by anyone at the door, one of his croniesanswered it. It was a police officer, “Is one Ibrahim Zakhaev in here?†heasked.

 

“Toomuch is what you know,†said the crony, he drew his silenced M9 pistol and shotthe officer once in the head, his body fell backwards and landed in the now redsnow. The crony then went outside and dragged the body to an alleyway, where heleft it.

 

 

“ANOTHERGODDAMN MURDER!†Lukas Ibramovic shouted, “CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS GUY, FIRST HEKILLS A RIVAL DRUG BARON, ALEXEI CHEZNOKOV, THEN HE KILLS OUR MAIN SOURCE OFINFORMATION, ROB CARLINGTON, AND NOW A POLICE OFFICER IS DEAD, WE NEED TO STOPHIM AND FAST!!!†The rest of the office nodded in agreement. They startedplanning the raid in which Zakhaev would end up in prison or dead.

 

 

Itwas a quiet Sunday in St Petersburg. That was until the 3 vans with OMON andPolice officer in turned up. They skidded round a corner and stopped, they were½ a Klick (military language meaning kilometre) away from Zakhaev’s safe house,the elite squad split into two to cover both possible escape routes, round theback of the house, and the front of it. Lukas Ibramovic was with the half thatwere going to smash the door down at the front. Before they entered hewhispered “Remember, No Russian.†The ram smashed the old wooden door downeasily “FREEZE†shouted every law enforcement officer, “KNEEL DOWN AND OUT YOURHANDS ON YOUR HEAD!†Zakhaev and his 2 cronies in the house with him allcomplied with the officers. They knew they wouldn’t win in a fire fight againstthese guys. Zakhaev was arrested, his drug legacy was over.

 

 

Zakhaevwas charged with 3 counts of murder as well as possession of several Class Adrugs with intent to supply. He was given multiple life sentences in prison.

 

 

“Well,â€said Lukas Ibramovic, “That’s Russia’s biggest drug baron dealt with, justanother few hundred to go!â€

 

 

**I know that I have nicked quite a few names from CoD, and the "No Russian" phrase!**

 

Please bear in mind that I am only 12!

 

What do you think of it?

 

 

 

[Comrade Chris]

^Sorry about the spacing issues, the forum bodged it up, tried to edit it but couldnt do so within 5 mins

[Carlyn]

I think you did well for a twelve year old. I thought you did well in creating a fast pace action story and keeping the excitement going throughout the story. I also thought you didn't need to be so specific about each weapon that the characters used and what cars they drove, it's almost as if the story is an advertisement for products. I hope you don't get discouraged by that one criticism, it's just my opinion that I thought might be helpful to you.

[Jade]

That's rather good for a 12 year old! I don't like how you used Call of Duty terms though. You're young, you have an imagination... be creative and use it. It would have stepped this piece up a whole lot more.