A subtle agency omnibus, p.68
A Subtle Agency Omnibus, page 68
part #1 of The Metaframe War Series
He leaned forward, tapping the driver on the shoulder. “Make all speed to the Facility. There is no time to waste.”
The operative, tapped his earbud, giving quick commands to the driver of the van. Both vehicles accelerated away toward the main entrance of the airbase.
As they approached the gates, Gordon stared out the window, silently vowing to break this Order of Thoth operative if it was the last thing he ever did. There could be no mercy shown to those who would oppose the agents of stability and control. A stable world order must be maintained, for the good of all. The only alternative was chaos and destruction, and Gordon Heathmont was willing to do anything that was necessary to defeat Shadowstone’s enemies.
Chapter Nineteen
“I can categorically affirm there are no military or paramilitary forces operating in this country without the express permission and knowledge of his Majesty’s government.” - The Prime Minister of the United Kingdom on the floor of Parliament.
* * *
Near Coningsby, Lincolnshire, August 22nd, 11:16
Anton awoke upside down, his cheek brushing against the warm fatigues of one of his teammates. He blinked, there was a break in the cloud cover, and the sun was shining.
Jay was carrying him over his shoulder on the edge of a slim bitumen road. On one side was a caravan park, on the other side, a river shone with a silvery light.
His head bounced painfully as Jay jumped over a pothole in the path.
“What the hell!” Anton said, squirming in Jay’s grip.
Jay grunted, leaned over and stood Anton up. “About time, you’ve been gaining weight.”
Anton glanced around, rubbing his head. The team was moving along a paved bike path toward a newly constructed industrial estate on the left past the caravan park. F-35s thundered to the far right, about a mile away from the Mirovar force team. The airbase itself was partially obscured by suburban housing and low trees.
Chiara handed him his slim backpack, Peter’s battle vest, and the Blue Dragon, and stated matter-of-factly, “Here’s your gear.”
“Thanks,” Anton replied, putting on Peter’s vest and cinching it tight as it was easier to wear than carry. He shrugged on his backpack, carrying the Blue Dragon in its scabbard with his left hand. He glanced at Chiara and asked, “What happened to our wingsuits?”
“They self-immolate, it’s smokeless, very little heat, a little bit of ash, how’s your -”
“Keep moving,” Francis ordered from the rear of the line, “and pick up the pace, we have to reach our first rendezvous point with the Order helper.”
“Order helper?” Anton asked rhetorically, looking back over his shoulder. “That was quick. We only got ordered to land less than an hour ago.”
Francis shook his head slightly, and advised, “Juliette and I switched everyone in the UK to active hours ago. There’s a helper nearby.”
Anton’s eyes widened. The Order was more pervasive than he’d thought.
Three explosions cracked in a tight sequence from the RAF airbase on their right-forward flank.
“That’ll be Peter,” Anton said. “Damn, we shouldn’t have let him go in there by himself.”
Juliette brushed past him; studying the distant airbase. “He’s still online. Check your earbud communications.”
Two whip-like cracks ripped through the air. Another pair of grenades going off. A second later a powerful explosion echoed in the distance, and gray smoke billowed out of a hangar on the northern side of the airbase.
“Give ‘em hell Peter,” Anton whispered. He tapped his right ear. The earbud was still in place and activated with his touch. He picked up what was happening with his friend.
There was a sharp crackle of gunfire through the link, Peter had to fight his way clear. The noise abruptly stopped, the communications link with Peter had been cut.
“What the hell,” Anton snapped angrily. He shook his head, his face flushed. “This is a disaster.”
Francis jogged past everyone to reach the front of the line, he put his hand out to signal ‘stop,’ and directed, “Wait.” He signaled ‘silence,’ with his hand and pulled his earbuds out, and indicated everyone do the same. In moments, all the earbuds had been extracted from the team member’s ears. Once out of contact with a warm human they shut down. “Our comms are compromised. Everyone, put your earbuds back in and shift to our backup channel now.”
Anton popped his earbuds back in and tapped his right earbud three times. The earbud gave a chirp as it switched to the backup channel. “But, what about Peter, he won’t be able to hear us.”
Francis looked at Anton and advised, “His earbuds will have been taken.”
Juliette brushed past Anton to speak with Francis, she observed softly, “There is an opportunity here to deceive Shadowstone.”
“Precisely.”
Juliette nodded and put a hand on Anton’s arm. “Don’t assume the worst, it’s not over yet, Peter is very resourceful. We’ll go to the second rendezvous point and wait for him there.”
Anton looked at her, his eyes questioning. “I really hope he makes it.”
He wasn’t comfortable with hope. Hope was one of the most useless and unreliable things in the world. He gripped the scabbard of the Blue Dragon, his eyes narrowing. There was no way he was leaving his friend to languish in captivity, facing torture or worse - not if he could do anything about it.
God only knows what’s happening to Peter.
Anton vowed to find a way to rescue his friend. After all, his friends were far more important to him than Ramin Kain.
* * *
The Jaguar sedan passed through the northern gates of the RAF airbase and raced along the street behind the dark-gray Shadowstone van. They needed to get through the suburbs of Coningsby before they could hit the main roads heading south toward the Facility.
Gordon Heathmont dialed Cornelius Crane on his secured, private line. It was time to report the capture of a member of the Order of Thoth. His call rang out unanswered, it didn’t even go to voicemail. Nor was the call picked up by Crane’s executive secretary Ursula Zielinkski, or another functionary. In his thirty-two years with Shadowstone, the last nineteen heading the UK arm, Gordon had always been able to contact his commanding officer or a designated functionary.
He frowned and tried again. The call rang three times, and then blipped as it transferred to another Shadowstone phone. The familiar voice of James Haley, the head of US Shadowstone answered the call, “Hello Gordon, what can we do for you?”
An undercurrent of false conviviality flowed beneath the American’s words. Gordon glowered with distaste, Haley had pitched the words perfectly to skate a thin line between insult and parody, leaving Gordon with no room to call the uncouth man out for his lack of manners. As to why the man had not resigned after his utter failure with the Boston incident on June the 11th was beyond his comprehension. The man had no breeding and was clearly little more than a trumped-up barbarian who had risen far above his natural station.
Unfortunately, and to his great dismay, Gordon still had to deal with him as an equal. It was an appalling situation and a sad indictment of the worrisome trends of world that tolerated the likes of Haley in positions of real authority. Gordon vowed to himself to do his utmost to see Haley removed and replaced with someone better suited to administrate a transnational security service. A man with the right background. A man with an Eton education and a doctorate in law from Cambridge University. A man who had come from a long line of serious men who had done great deeds of service.
A man like himself.
This will jam it right up him, the upstart bastard. Gordon’s thin lips curled into a smug grin, and he declared, “I’ve caught an Order of Thoth operative, and it is imperative Cornelius Crane is notified.”
There was a momentary pause before Haley replied, “Have you identified the operative?”
“Not yet, but we will. Where is Crane?”
“Cornelius Crane is unavailable at this time. Can you describe the operative?”
“Why is Crane unavailable?”
“There is a glitch in the communications system. No one can reach Crane.”
Gordon paused, why should communications be down on the very day Order of Thoth operatives were landing in England? Had the Order managed to compromise the system? It beggared belief. He frowned; it was infuriating to have to deal with Haley instead of Crane. He sighed, submitting to answer the American. “Male, about six feet two inches tall, heavy, muscular build. Thick red hair, blue eyes, and an insolent, over-confident manner.”
“His name is Peter Lamb,” Haley advised. “He is a known member of the Mirovar force team.”
Gordon’s mouth turned down in a disappointed sneer. How did Haley know so much about the operative? He’d already checked the Panopticon, it was the first thing he’d done as his car crossed the RAF airbase from the hangar to the front gates - there was nothing on ‘Peter Lamb,’ in the system. Why hadn’t Haley shared this information earlier? Was Haley deliberately withholding information from his peers in Europe? Gordon shook his head, he wouldn’t be surprised to discover Haley had done precisely that, most likely motivated by personal ambitions to bring the US arm of Shadowstone to a position of global primacy with himself at its head.
Just another example of the hubristic over-reach of a small-minded man given too much power.
Gordon demanded, “Why isn’t this information in the Panopticon?”
Haley ignored the question and asked, “Where are the rest of the Mirovar force team?”
Gordon glared at his phone. “What do you mean? The plane landed. Only one man came off it, and he is in custody. Anyone else on the aircraft would be dead. It’s a smoking ruin in a hangar at RAF Coningsby.”
Haley snorted.
Gordon seethed; how dare he laugh at me. “Answer me, man! What do you mean?”
“The Mirovar team are in England. They’re on an operation right now. You have one of their number. There are at least another six to nine members in your vicinity. I don’t know how they did it, but they evacuated the plane before it landed.”
“Not possible. The plane was intercepted before it flew over England and escorted all the way down. No one was seen leaving the plane.”
“Well, it happened.”
Gordon sniffed disdainfully. “If they’re here we will soon find them.”
“Or they will find you.”
“I hope they do. They will discover we’re able to defend ourselves.”
The line was quiet for a long moment. “Don’t underestimate them.”
Gordon shook his head. “Not a chance. Now please ensure this good news is given to Crane at the earliest opportunity.”
“I guarantee it, I will pass it on as soon as communications have been restored.”
Gordon stared at his phone as if the sheer intensity of his will could reach through the network and pin Haley down. “I’ll hold you to your word.”
“Of course.”
The line disconnected as Haley hung up.
Gordon took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Calming himself; he considered a list of options in his mind. It was better to be safe than sorry. He would mobilize Shadowstone, and UK government agencies and military forces. He would set a net so tight that not even a mouse could fart without him knowing about it. If the Mirovar force team were operating in the UK, he would discover them, and then he would direct the full force of his Phase IV day guards upon their heads.
Gordon smiled avidly; he’d more than one ace up his sleeve. He pulled the captured earbuds from his pocket and fitted them into his ears. Before he marshaled his forces, he would see what he could hear from the mouths of his opponents. Of course, his enemies could have realized that their operative’s earbuds had fallen into the hands of Shadowstone. Whatever he heard could be false information.
He was confident he would be able to tell the difference. His smile broadened as the communications link became live in his ear.
Today would be a special day.
* * *
The industrial park loomed before them.
Francis held up his hand, signaling the team to stop, he turned and directed, “It’s time to start a ruse. Juliette and I will be the only ones involved. We’ll be on our normal communications channel until further notice. It’s important that everyone stays quiet.”
Anton nodded with the rest of the team.
He half listened as Juliette and Francis discussed their plans to abort the mission and head to the west coast of England for a boat pickup with the remainder of the team. Their conversation touched on the loss of a single man, Peter, and their belief that he would have to be ‘left behind,’ for the good of the Order. They finished by declaring future communications silence to minimize risk.
Anton imagined catching up to Peter’s captors and freeing his friend.
He couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
* * *
Jay was on point as they trooped in a loose line along a street filled with various small factories and workshops.
He turned left into a laneway. A neatly painted white roller door began to rise up on the third building on the right. The building sported a bright red sign on a white background that read, ‘Dogdyke Motor Repairs.’
The roller door pulled to a halt at the top with a clatter of chains. A young woman stood in the shadows inside the door. Her dark hair was pulled back beneath a red scarf. She was dressed in dark, oil-stained coveralls, and black work boots. She nodded, gesturing for them to come into the automotive workshop. They all filed in, spreading around the workshop, wary eyes watching everything. The young woman punched a black button on the wall, and the roller door descended smoothly. In moments, they were alone with her and a pair of late model Range Rover SUVs resting on the cold concrete of the workshop’s floor.
Francis approached the young woman and asked, “You already have our message?”
“Yes. Everything is prepared.”
“Good work, show us.”
The woman moved behind the charcoal-colored Range Rovers, lifted their rear doors and instructed confidently, “The fit out is the same for both cars. Full tank of fuel. Supercharged engines. Reinforced stealth body armor good against 5.56mm or 9mm ball, not so good for anything more potent than that. Top speed of a hundred and thirty miles per hour and zero to sixty in six and a half seconds. On board each vehicle, you’ll find four H&K MP5s, each with two mags strapped together, and four extra mags of high-velocity rounds each. A .50 cal sniper rifle with thirty rounds. A Milkor MGL with six HEAP rounds, and one spare load of another six HEAP rounds. There’s a satchel with a dozen AP hand grenades.”
Francis frowned. “Define, ‘not so good.’”
“Right,” The young woman nodded. “Sustained 7.62mm fire will break through the windscreens and the armored panels. Don’t go anywhere near depleted uranium rounds - they’ll tear these babies apart.”
“Any silver?”
“Only what you brought with you.”
Francis nodded. “Thanks, you’ve done well.”
The young woman nodded once without smiling, her brown eyes serious. She turned, striding back to the roller doors, she advised over her shoulder, “Follow the street north along the river for about a mile. You’ll hit a ‘T’ intersection, that’s the A153, Sleaford road. Turn to the north and cross the Witham River, from there on, head for Whitby.”
The team split into two groups, loading their packs, edged weapons, FN P90s and magazines into the two cars. Francis climbed into one of the Range Rovers, Juliette took the other side and opened her laptop on her knees. Anton clambered into the back seat behind Juliette, and Li took the other side, the Green Dragon joining the Blue Dragon resting between them. Anton looked to his left across the workshop, Jay had taken the driver’s position in the second Range Rover with Yvette at his side, and Luther and Chiara were behind them. In moments, the engines were idling smoothly. The young woman, her dark eyes flashing beneath the fluorescents hit a black button next to the roller doors. They ascended in a handful of seconds. Francis gunned the SUV’s engine. The Range Rover accelerated forward and into the street, the second car joining it a moment later.
It was sinking in. They were leaving Peter to his fate. His absence cut through Anton like a cold blade. “We need to find Peter. We can’t leave him behind.”
Francis replied firmly, “Peter accepted the mission. He knew the risks, and he is not yet lost. He may still escape his captors. We’ll go to the second rendezvous point and wait for him there.” He paused for a moment, his face still, but his eyes were alive with emotion. “We must forge ahead, speed is of the essence, Ramin may still be human, we must recover him as soon as possible.”
Juliette twisted around in her seat to look Anton in the face. “We have a dilemma, no one wants to leave Peter. But, where is he? He could be anywhere. We have no way of knowing where they will take him or how soon he might escape.”
“What of your mind palace? Surely you can do something.”
“It’s not magic Anton. I need something more to work with. There are too many options, but I’ll see what I can see.” Juliette turned back to her laptop and closed her eyes. Her eyelids fluttered like she was dreaming for about ten seconds. She opened her eyes, and her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Peter could still be on the airbase, but it is more likely he will be in transit right now. The only thing I can rule out is that he’s not in the air. Clearly, no planes have taken off. There’s not enough information to be more conclusive than that.” She reached around and patted Anton’s knee. “For now, we can do nothing to help Peter. He will have to help himself.” She paused for a moment. “Do not doubt him. I would not want to try to hold Peter captive.”
