Thriller Drama, Audiobook
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
British (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Tango Mission audition, Dr was sitting in a quiet cafe overlooking ST Meqdad Square on the Roundabout at the bottom end of room, off a ****, sipping his double espresso and enjoying a chocolate Qassem. It was close to 10 a.m. On a sunny Monday morning on Parisians were out shopping for their favourite fresh produce. Freshly baked baguette Jeff were grabbed by eager customers even before they had a chance to call on were half eaten before they reached the dining table. In the nearby small apartments, fruits and vegetables were carefully selected by picky housewives and packed in paper bags that were placed in cloth shopping baskets. No self respecting Parisian would use plastic bags or rely on shopkeepers to provide thumb the Frog Marie's. We're also doing brisk business, although some customers, especially tourists, needed a long time to choose their cheese of the day from the large selection In the glass display cabinets, elegantly dressed women pushing strollers made their way to meet their friends and cafes for morning gossip. Traffic moves slowly along the five streets that lead into all out off the roundabout, the narrow streets were packed with cars and delivery vans But the driving habits of Parisians had changed, so horns didn't start blowing for at least five seconds after a car stopped a discharge. An elderly passenger. The only thing that seemed out of place in this serene scene was the patrol of four heavily armed soldiers. Sergeant Jean Claude was in charge of the three young recruits John, Jackie, Jean Baptiste and Jean Luc. The sergeant was a battle hardened man who had seen military action in the Middle East. But the troops were fresh out of basic training and had never heard a shot fired in anger. This was about to change shortly as a doctor, Newell too well, the patrol reached the bottom of room of a tart on the young troopers imitated their sergeant and nonchalantly placed one foot on a short cement poll. Jean Luc ask permission to light a cigarette. On was just about to take the lighter out of his shirt pocket when two barely audible puffs were heard and seconds later were followed by two more puffs. Suddenly, red ripe watermelons exploded on the uniforms, shoulders of the four men, replacing the human heads with unseasonal fruit. The 4 12.7 millimetre projectiles fired seconds apart from two heavy sniper rifles. Panic broke out in the square and on the surrounding streets, people run around like stunned cockroaches seeking whatever appeared to be safe cover. Some pushed their way into the kitchen area of the cafe or the apparent safety of a store. Others huddled behind parked cars, while most just run away from horrifying scene. The two snipers continue to fire at random, and within 30 seconds there were more than a dozen bodies splayed along the sidewalk. Several drivers lost control of their vehicles and slammed into the vehicle ahead of them. The traffic jam continued to grow quickly, until nothing except motorbikes and bicycles could move. Le Dr Hope that snipers had been warned not to shoot at him, but knew they were a couple of fanatic, un disciplined murderers. So decided to join the other patrons off the cafe and seek refuge in the kitchen and the back of the cafe. None of the other people huddled there gave him a second look. The kitchen staff and waiters were paralysed with fear and shock, while other patrons appeared to be in a daze. One old man mumbled something about radical Muslims who should never have been granted permission to settle. In France, two snipers coolly folded their rifles and took the stairs down from the rooftop they had used to an apartment on the third floor of the building on the corner of Rue Pascal. The door was opened by a young woman, smiled at them and lead them to the bathroom, where a concealed storage compartment was built. Underneath the bathtub, she pulled a lever on the wall that was disguised as a towel rack on the bathtub slid on a well oiled hinges, exposing the compartment below. The snipers placed their rifles in the padded floor on the young woman, Kamil through a woollen blanket over the rifles and pushed the lever. By the time the bathtub returned to the original position, the two men had already left the apartment. One of them, a Tunisian, exited the building and returned to the fruit and vegetable store just up the road, where he worked and started unloading boxes of fresh produce as if nothing had happened. The 2nd 1 originally a French Catholic who had converted to Islam and spent a year with the Islamic state troops in Syria brushed his blond hair and straight in the priest's frog that he had dawned. He left the apartment building through a door that led to the nearby Sincere Do a Baton Metro and waited patiently for the next train. The police were busy closing the streets that lead to the site of the carnage, but they had not stopped the metro traffic. The doctor was the first to leave the cafe's kitchen and walk out the door. He surveyed the mayhem and barely refrained from smiling. He was almost deafened by the sound of the sirens of the police, ambulances and firefighters that rushed to the scene. He noted the time and realised that several minutes had passed since the heads of the patrolman had exploded. The public's confidence in the ability of the French police to protect them suffered yet another blow. The doctor knew that this was just a diversion and that the real attack would take place elsewhere, and its effects would be far reaching was in four soldiers