Posted in Original Novel

Chapter 10 – First Strike by Red Wolf

We finally completed 10 chapters. Almost halfway through the novel. Hope everyone had enjoyed the read so far. Don’t forget to drop your feedback for Red Wolf and share your thoughts.

Have a great Tuesday everyone! 


Chapter 10:

Three vans, all black in colour. 

All occupied by military personnel and MI6 agents. 

The agents’ old clothes had been taken from them, replaced by new ones. 

Their “passports” had also been changed. Now, McCain was no longer John Kane. He was Simon Jackson, a photographer who was being taken back to the UK after losing his passport.

All their identities had changed to prove this story, even Nyechenko’s. McCain gripped his camera, a hidden weapon with multiple features. He could activate a flashlight, or send an emergency message. There was even a secret compartment, hidden from plain sight. He was the only one with a camera; the rest were assigned firearms. As the vans slowly blended in with Russian traffic, McCain glanced at the city sights. 

A mausoleum for the communist idol Vladimir Lenin.

The St. Basil Cathedral.

© 2021 TINKERBELLSAN ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Written for with permission from the Author, Red Wolf. If you are not reading this from, then this original novel has been posted without the permission of the author.

Even the Kremlin, as large and intimidating as the palaces dotting European cities. 

Nyechenko, seated in between Jacket and McCain, noticed his awe.

“This is a beautiful city, agent McCain.” Nyechenko remarked, taking part in seeing the city. Except, it would be his last time doing so. “It’s strange seeing the city you called home, for the last time.” 

McCain could only nod. He gazed out of the tinted window, at a street of cafes and restaurants.  The traffic was clogging up now, and the vans were caught in the middle. The drivers of the vans all spoke into a single radio channel, hidden from Russian networks and directed back to the embassy. It looked as if they were going to leave the city later than expected.

Time, fourteen minutes past two in the afternoon.

The brunette walked down the street, taking a seat on the bench and placing her backpack beside her. She took a moment to recollect her thoughts, before taking a brown bag out and opening it. She appeared excited; she had a treat for her packed lunch. 

Kotlety. Russian meatballs.

A can of schi, Russia’s most beloved soup.

Golubtsy. Stuffed cabbage rolls. 

© 2021 TINKERBELLSAN ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Written for with permission from the Author, Red Wolf. If you are not reading this from, then this original novel has been posted without the permission of the author.

She put the lunch down and picked up her backpack, walking away from the small bag, as if she had completely forgotten about it. 

She passed by a burly, ginger-bearded man in a Nike jacket, who slowly slipped something into her back pocket. Shocked, she turned and tried to slap him, but missed. She furiously continued down the road, just as the would-be molester picked up her brown bag and walked off. 

A man of Georgian ethnicity sat down on a bench, directly opposite from the one where the brunette had sat on the other curb. He was listening to music and chatting on the phone, weaving in and out of the cars. He tripped just in front of the lead van and stood up, humbly apologising to the driver and continuing down the road. 

Behind the third van, a young male in an Adidas sweatshirt picked up an empty can of vodka and threw it under the van, leaning back as if he had done the world a favour. Nobody would suspect a thing.

Time, sixteen minutes past two in the afternoon. 

The Indian couple were communicating with Frizzy, situated in the third van.

“Bravo Trinity, this is Alpha Prime. How goes the traffic behind us?” the woman spoke into the radio in a typical Anglo-Punjabi accent. 

“Alpha Prime, this is Bravo Trinity. Traffic’s fucking crap on our ass.” Frizzy snarkily commented. “How goes the middle man, Corvus Delta?”

“Two words. Fucking. Hell.” Jacket snapped sarcastically. “You mind moving up, Bravo Trinity?”

 All the agents chuckled, while McCain and Nyechenko fell silent. The cars started to move again. 

“Looks like we have movement.” Glasses said from a fourth channel. “I’ll try and use the Moscow traffic system to clear a path, yeah?”

© 2021 TINKERBELLSAN ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Written for with permission from the Author, Red Wolf. If you are not reading this from, then this original novel has been posted without the permission of the author.

That was when Alpha Prime went dead. At that moment, a ball of fire erupted, sending everybody in the proximity into a crazed stampede. 

“Fuck!” Jacket yelled, grabbing an SA80. “Alpha Prime’s gone!”

Bravo Trinity was next, flying backwards and crashing into the driver of the middle van. Alpha Prime had become a dead goose, flaming alive.

The commotion caused a frenzy in the embassy.

“What the fuck is happening over there?” Smythe yelled into the radio, having witnessed two explosions in the area.

“Mother Crown, this is Corvus Delta.” McCain reported, forcing Nyechenko to duck. “This whole fucking thing’s gone.” 

The explosions signalled the attack. Having explored the schi with his bare hand, the ginger-beard pulled out a round of ammunition and jammed it into his Makarov PM, opening fire on McCain’s side of the van. The brunette lady emerged from an alley, having assembled a Chukavin sniper rifle, and fired another shot at the third van’s fuel tank, just as Frizzy was about to escape. The bullet raced through her head and caught its target, consuming Frizzy in fire instantly. 

At that moment, McCain had managed to pull Nyechenko out of the van, with Jacket using the middle vehicle’s open front as cover from which to attack Ginger Beard, who was now screaming in some sort of Russian dialect. McCain had managed to take cover with Nyechenko, before being marked by the Georgian and the sweatshirt wearer. 

“Give him to me, McCain.” Jacket called out, firing at the sniper. “I’ll cover him.”

McCain didn’t hesitate to give the professor a light shove towards his partner, who grabbed him by the collar and made a dash for the nearby supermarket, constantly turning around to open fire while their Russian asset was dragged across the road on his pants. 

McCain was about to join them when he noticed the Georgian whip out a set of knives, jagged and sharp. 

It was a Buck 110 Slim Select, manufactured in Idaho, the US.

© 2021 TINKERBELLSAN ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Written for with permission from the Author, Red Wolf. If you are not reading this from, then this original novel has been posted without the permission of the author.

McCain was hearing whispers again, and seeing floating numbers. He instinctively positioned himself so that his feet were planted on the ground. The Georgian flipped the knife so that his fingers caught the bottom of the dagger, and hurled it with such a blow that the knife spiralled directly for McCain’s head.

To his opponent’s shock, McCain bent backwards, catching the tip of the blade. 

He then sharply rebounded his spine into the correct alignment, making a volley of his own while doing so. The Georgian had to be pulled aside by Sweatshirt, the blade slicing a bit of his shirt and landing on the side of a Mercedes Benz. 

“McCain, follow Nyechenko. If he’s compromised, we are not sending backup.” Smythe ordered from the command office. McCain glanced back at his adversaries and retreated, throwing himself through the supermarket’s window without serious injuries.

Time, half past two in the afternoon. 

Original Novel by Red Wolf



I love travelling and exploring the world, see things from the lense of my camera.... this is my space in sharing the many exciting places that I have visited as well as some of the wonderful gastronomy experience. I also loved baking while exploring new recipes. From time to time, I will also be sharing unique dishes that I cook for my family as well as sharing some of my baking experience / recipes.

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