the IRC approached the crew lined up with their hands in the air, captain, first officer, engineer, three deckhands, housekeeper, chef and two stewards. When the fighting started the crew switched on all the deck lights so their surrender could be seen.
On board the SAS troopers searched the yacht. Sitting in the lounge Zoe found three of Barscadden's inner circle executed by single headshots. Beside them lay two large 500 litre silver alloy trunks. No sign of Barscadden or Bromlee.
When Zoe grabbed the captain by the throat he pointed his arm out to sea. Zoe ran around to the side of the yacht just in time to see the yacht's speedboat floating aimless in the wake of an old submarine moving rapidly forward into a dive.
The crew confirmed Barscadden and Bromlee had taken seven trunks on board the submarine and had left the last two when the shooting started. Bromlee had executed the three people in the lounge before he left.
"Control. You watching this?" Zoe asked.
"Yes. We didn't spot that tub on the satellite image. Must have been hiding under the yacht," Alan Cairn replied.
"How far can a small thing like that go?"
"It's about sixty meters long so we think it's an old Soviet Quebec class coastal submarine. Range not more than 2000 nautical miles. It won't get him across the pond. Best guess he'll make landfall in Europe."
"Unless he organised a refuel at sea."
"Of course that's possible," Alan conceded.
"Shit. Can we scramble air support to bomb the bastard?" Toni asked.
"He's too close to fishing and ferry lanes."
"Good planning. Smart decoy. Got to give him that," Zoe said.
Zoe watched the submarine conning tower disappear into the sea through her night enhancement goggles. Sergeant Antonia (Toni) Bornadetti inspected the expanding bloodstain on Zoe's arm bandage.
" Well done boss. It's still a good result," Toni said.
" We're not done yet," Zoe turned and curled her lip at Toni.
" What's next?"
"Fancy a bit of R&R in Hampshire? "
"Yeah that would be good. I've got mates in Portsmouth. So what's going down in Hampshire?"
" We'll soon find out."
9
Home Office , Whitehall , London
The Lambeth Group VC, Sir Christopher Aden-Brown sat with Alan Cairn Head of CPNI in the Aden-Brown's office. It was an old traditional office on the third floor of Peel Building at the Home Office in Marsham Street. They sat deeply in comfortable brown leather Queen Anne high back wing chairs facing each other.
On the brown leather covered coffee table between them were spread the files of people they intended to pull together to form a team for a new investigation. It was late in the afternoon and they had spent the past three hours preparing a briefing for their team.
Sir Christopher Aden-Brown was a retired Vice-Chancellor with a shock of short white hair befitting his seventy years of age. He was six foot tall, thin and gaunt-looking with pronounced jowls and sagging bags under his eyes. His hands were covered with liver spots and he wore glasses with thick lenses for severe myopia. He was the link between the Home Office and all the University Vice-Chancellors in the UK and Commonwealth.
"I'm sorry but we have to go with Shawlens," Alan concluded.
"As I've said he's walking and talking like normal but he's not all there in terms of full mental capacity."
"Well he'll have to snap out of it," Alan said more harshly than he intended.
"Are you sure Zoe's fit for this duty? I read the mission report on the Barscadden business at Ardwell Point. It was bloody impressive stuff taking out these WRATH people. Just a tad unlucky with Barscadden. I would have allowed more time for her wound to recover. Maybe we should consider another."
"You were the one insisted we had to have someone from the top drawer to look after Shawlens. Well Sir Christopher she's the one!"
"I see," he sounded unconvinced.
"If Barscadden's people come after Shawlens. She'll spot them and take them out long before they spot her. Trust me
On board the SAS troopers searched the yacht. Sitting in the lounge Zoe found three of Barscadden's inner circle executed by single headshots. Beside them lay two large 500 litre silver alloy trunks. No sign of Barscadden or Bromlee.
When Zoe grabbed the captain by the throat he pointed his arm out to sea. Zoe ran around to the side of the yacht just in time to see the yacht's speedboat floating aimless in the wake of an old submarine moving rapidly forward into a dive.
The crew confirmed Barscadden and Bromlee had taken seven trunks on board the submarine and had left the last two when the shooting started. Bromlee had executed the three people in the lounge before he left.
"Control. You watching this?" Zoe asked.
"Yes. We didn't spot that tub on the satellite image. Must have been hiding under the yacht," Alan Cairn replied.
"How far can a small thing like that go?"
"It's about sixty meters long so we think it's an old Soviet Quebec class coastal submarine. Range not more than 2000 nautical miles. It won't get him across the pond. Best guess he'll make landfall in Europe."
"Unless he organised a refuel at sea."
"Of course that's possible," Alan conceded.
"Shit. Can we scramble air support to bomb the bastard?" Toni asked.
"He's too close to fishing and ferry lanes."
"Good planning. Smart decoy. Got to give him that," Zoe said.
Zoe watched the submarine conning tower disappear into the sea through her night enhancement goggles. Sergeant Antonia (Toni) Bornadetti inspected the expanding bloodstain on Zoe's arm bandage.
" Well done boss. It's still a good result," Toni said.
" We're not done yet," Zoe turned and curled her lip at Toni.
" What's next?"
"Fancy a bit of R&R in Hampshire? "
"Yeah that would be good. I've got mates in Portsmouth. So what's going down in Hampshire?"
" We'll soon find out."
9
Home Office , Whitehall , London
The Lambeth Group VC, Sir Christopher Aden-Brown sat with Alan Cairn Head of CPNI in the Aden-Brown's office. It was an old traditional office on the third floor of Peel Building at the Home Office in Marsham Street. They sat deeply in comfortable brown leather Queen Anne high back wing chairs facing each other.
On the brown leather covered coffee table between them were spread the files of people they intended to pull together to form a team for a new investigation. It was late in the afternoon and they had spent the past three hours preparing a briefing for their team.
Sir Christopher Aden-Brown was a retired Vice-Chancellor with a shock of short white hair befitting his seventy years of age. He was six foot tall, thin and gaunt-looking with pronounced jowls and sagging bags under his eyes. His hands were covered with liver spots and he wore glasses with thick lenses for severe myopia. He was the link between the Home Office and all the University Vice-Chancellors in the UK and Commonwealth.
"I'm sorry but we have to go with Shawlens," Alan concluded.
"As I've said he's walking and talking like normal but he's not all there in terms of full mental capacity."
"Well he'll have to snap out of it," Alan said more harshly than he intended.
"Are you sure Zoe's fit for this duty? I read the mission report on the Barscadden business at Ardwell Point. It was bloody impressive stuff taking out these WRATH people. Just a tad unlucky with Barscadden. I would have allowed more time for her wound to recover. Maybe we should consider another."
"You were the one insisted we had to have someone from the top drawer to look after Shawlens. Well Sir Christopher she's the one!"
"I see," he sounded unconvinced.
"If Barscadden's people come after Shawlens. She'll spot them and take them out long before they spot her. Trust me
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