Strayker redialled a number from memory.
A voice on the other end replied “Vince Edwards.”
“Vince have you heard anything of Max’s ETA back here?”
Vince replied, “Let’s ask GAIL Major.”
GAIL had automatically been listening into the call, along with hundreds of other task’s she was processing.
“Major; Max and the teams have just boarded a VC-10 at
Jomo Kenyatta airport Nairobi Kenya, ETA eight hours thirty-five minutes that will put them on the ground here at twenty-two fifty-four hours local time.”
“Thank you GAIL, Vince I want a full Intel package for the raid at Verdugo’s on my desk here by Zero-eight hundred hours tomorrow, sorry Vince; but it looks like all our New Year’s days are going to have to wait.”
“As is life Major, you will have the Intel.”
Strayker replaced the phone and phoned the Prime Minister on the direct line.
The Prime Minister was preparing to leave for her country house at Chequers when she picked up the phone.
“Ma’am; Major Strayker can we talk?”
“Certainly Major.”
For the next few minutes, Strayker ran through the events at Washington, when he had finished the Prime Minister spoke.
“How does this affect our plans in South America Major?”
“Well Ma’am, I think it would be prudent to call the Everest members for a meeting tomorrow morning and pool
all our Intel together, the incident in Washington makes it imperative we make our move now.”
The Prime Minister thought for a moment before replying. “Major; if anyone else had asked for a meeting on New Year’s Day they would be receiving a few choice words right now from me, however; I know you to well to dismiss your request, leave it with me. I will make the phone calls, we are not going to be popular with the Everest members but small sacrifices have to be made from time to time. I’ll call everyone for an eleven o’clock meeting; it will be at Chequers Major.”
“Thank you Ma’am,” replied Strayker.
Verdugo Hacienda
Bucaramanga Colombia
Lat = 7 degrees, 8.3 minutes North
Long = 73 degrees, 6.1 minutes West
Sunday 1st January 1989
Four twenty-two hour’s local time.
Five hours behind GMT
“Continuing with the world news; we have reports of a shoot-out outside the Washington Hilton hotel late yesterday afternoon, early reports suggest four men died and a female was injured in the gun battle, three men and a women were taken away by the Police for questioning; now the weather forecast.”
Ramón turned the television off; he was sitting in the games room of the Hacienda drinking coffee having come down early after a bad night’s sleep, he had managed two hours sleep and was nursing a thumping headache along with a hangover, following the New Year’s party Toledo Verdugo had thrown the previous evening.
The news he had just heard had now quickly cured his ailing feelings.
Just then Toledo Verdugo entered the room, noticing
Ramón he said, “you’re up early Ramón; couldn’t sleep hey?”
“Si Senior Verdugo, have you seen any news yet?”
“No, why?”
Ramón spent the next few minutes explaining what he had heard on the news channel.
Toledo listened whilst making a coffee from the nearby peculator machine when Ramón finished he spent a few moments sipping his coffee.
“So Ramón what’s your feelings on this?”
“To put it bluntly senior; the British are on to us and we have to presume they will attempt a rescue of the Professor.”
“Just as well we have him up at Rio Negro, so if you were coming to rescue the Professor what would be your game plan Ramón?”
Ramón had been sitting down during their conversation, he stood up and walked over to the percolator and refreshed his mug before replying. “We have to presume they have a detailed plan of this Hacienda from the agent that escaped, I would use a small force under the cover of night, locate a guard and obtain information from him as to the Professors location. It would then be a question as to how good they are, as to whether they succeed.”
Toledo Verdugo replied, “What do you know about the
British OSC?”
Ramón thought for a moment racking his brain for something he had heard a few months ago.
Toledo Verdugo let Ramón search his thoughts and sat down continuing to drink his coffee.
It took Ramón a few minutes before his brain gave him the information, “six months ago senior; there was that bombing in London, an underground train if I remember correctly, London virtually became a war zone following that, the man responsible was hunted down and along with some of his men they were killed by the OSC.”
“That’s right Ramón; do you remember how the Prime Minister spoke of them?”
“No senior.”
“Come Ramón to my office.”
Five minutes later Ramón was in Toledo Verdugo’s office reading a newspaper article dated 1st August 1988 his attention lingered on the final paragraph. “This unit of men known as the Operational Strike Command is this country’s most deadliest force and I will not shy away from unleashing it when it is deemed necessary, they are our first and last line of offense.”
He placed the newspaper back on the desk, Toledo Verdugo spoke, “were the men that you encountered at the
UK Laboratory a Special Forces unit?”
“No senior Verdugo, they were a Police unit.”
“How can you be so sure Ramón?”
“They identified themselves as armed Police senior.”
“Okay Ramón, it’s time we gain our monies worth out of our informants within the government; you know the information we need Ramón; see to it and take some more men up to Rio Negro with you this morning when you take the papers up to the Professor, I want him well protected.”
“Si senior.”
Sam Winnet and Tony Walters had been watching the Hacienda for the past thirty-six hours. They had found a place to leave their hire car half a mile away and were watching the Hacienda with high-powered binoculars from a wooded copse on the east side. Nothing much had happened until the party last night, but they had seen no sign of the Professor.
Sam looked at his watch, seven thirty-eight hours and spoke, “I think the Professor has been moved Tony, we should have caught a glimpse of him by now.”
“I agree Sam.”
Just then a dozen of armed men appeared from what they had identified as some sought of accommodation building and were getting into two pickup trucks, a solitary man
was walking from the main towards them, “that’s Ramón
Cubrero Sam.”
They both watched him walk over to one of the three pick-up trucks climbing into the front passenger seat; all three pickups began driving down the long driveway.
Tony spoke, I’ll follow them in the hire car, keep this place under surveillance, as soon as I can I’ll get a message back home, stay sharp Sam.”
Tony ran the half-mile back to the hire car and was waiting as the two pickups came past him; he fired the engine up and moved off, keeping a discreet distance from the pickups.
Lago de Maracaibo
Venezuela
Lat = 9 degrees, 48.1 minutes North
Long = 71 degrees, 31.5 minutes West
Sunday 1st January 1989
Twelve-eleven hour’s local time
Five hours behind GMT
Lago de Maracaibo or Lake Maracaibo is the largest lake in South America; the thirty-four miles Tablazo Strait at the northern connects it to the Gulf of Venezuela; and as such is one of the oldest lakes
on Earth at between twenty to thirty-six million years old.
It has a length of forty-seven miles and a width of forty-two miles with a maximum depth of one hundred and ninety-six feet, thirty-six fathoms.
There are four hundred and sixty seven islands scattered throughout out the lake.
Captain Peter Hopkins spoke, “All engines stop.”
The four Rolls Royce Olympus gas turbine engines (like Concorde’s) began to shut down, the twenty thousand and two hundred and thirty-five tones vessel began to slow down from its ten knot speed, it would take the ship just over a half mile to come to a complete stop.
When Captain Peter Hopkins had received his orders to make for Lake Maracaibo, the ship was stationed of the coast of Belize, twelve hundred and forty-two miles away.
The Ark Royal had maintained its full speed of thirty knots to cover the distance in thirty-six hours.
The Ark Royal is the fifth vessel to bear the proud
name; she was one of three of the Invincible class.
Now the flagship of the British fleet, she differs slightly from her two sisters Invincible and Illustrious, as she has a twelve-degree ski jump compared to the seven degrees of the other two ships.
She carried the STOVL (Short Take Off and Vertical Landing) Sea Harrier FRS.1 (Fighter, Reconnaissance, Strike Harrier jump jet aircraft, as well as various helicopters. Complemented with a crew of over a thousand sailors and aviators.
The wake behind began to diminish as the speed dropped off, fifteen minutes later the sonar showed a suitable anchorage depth for the ships twenty-four feet draught, Captain Hopkins gave the order, “drop anchor.”
The anchor and its many metal links weighing in at three hundred and thirty tonnes thundered down the side of the ship, crashing into the waters finally coming to rest on the lakes floor sixty five feet below.
Captain Hopkins spoke, “send a message to the admiralty,
HMS Ark Royal in situ and give them our coordinates.”
On route to Ruth Nelsons parent’s home.
No 10, Nelmes Way, Emerson Park,
Hornchurch near Romford.
Lat = 51 degrees, 34.6 minutes North
Long = 0 degrees, 13.6 minutes East
Sunday 1st January 1989
Zero-nine twenty six hours GMT
The Meteor metallic grey Porsche 911 was travelling clockwise around the London orbital M25, the marker board on the hard-shoulder indicated junction 28 one mile away.
Max was driving his car and spoke to Ruth in the passenger seat, “how are you feeling?”
Ruth paused for a second before answering, “It’s going to be a shock for both of them,” she replied.
“A shock yes; but the best possible kind,” replied Max.
Upon their return to England, Max had taken Ruth back to his home in Datchet village, near Windsor, where they had spent the night together.
They had left Max’s home at Zero-eight fifteen hours for the sixty-eight mile long journey.
Max had picked up the M4 from Windsor that quickly took them onto the M25 at junction 15 heading north.
Max was now leaving the M25 on the slip road up to the large roundabout, to pick up the A12 Colchester road the fourth exit.
He dropped a second gear in as he entered the roundabout and applied the power, the rear wheel drive wheels dug down. Max squeezed more power through the accelerator and gently applied some steering allowing the car to take a racing line through the curves, half way round they went under the elevated section of the M25, picking up the A12 a dual carriageway.
The Porsche reached the 70 mph road speed limit and Max block changed from second to fifth gear.
There had been very little traffic on the journey and they had made good time.
The Gallows corner roundabout came up in less than two minutes, and Max turned left onto the A127 Southend Arterial road, Max turned right a half mile down into Ardleigh Green road.
Max brought the car to a stop just short of the turning on the left for Nelmes Way.
He turned to Ruth and said, “Do you want me to go in first to break the news?”
Ruth was looking at him and held her eyes for a moment before answering, “thank you Max, I’ll go in alone, if you don’t mind.”
He spent a few moments looking at her before replying, “yes I think that would be for the best, I’ll drop you off and get back in touch with you later today.”
“Thank you Max,” Ruth leaned over and planted a kiss on his left cheek.
“I thought I would never see you again Max.”
“Me to darling,” he replied.
Max selected first gear and slowly moved off, turning left into Nelmes Way, a short way down Max pulled up alongside the kerb; Ruth’s parent’s home was on the right.
They sat in silence for a few minutes before Max spoke, “will they be up?”
Ruth looked at her watch; nine-thirty seven, “yes, they never sleep-in on a Sunday; Dad’s philosophy is to make every minute count.”
Ruth opened the car door and stepped out, Max gave her a nod and she smiled back closing the car door.
Max watched her cross over the road and walk up the driveway to the big detached house; he quickly lost sight of her as the trees around the front of the house obscured his view.
He decided to wait five minutes before heading off to
Chequers.
Ruth had walked slowly up the driveway to the front
door, this was the house she had spent all her life in and had thought she would never see it or her parents again.
She pressed the doorbell, it-felt weird not having her key to gain entry, but that along with other personal items had been destroyed.
After a few moments she noticed a shadowy outline approaching the other side of the door and momentarily bend down, she could instinctively tell it was her father.
Duncan Nelson had been in the kitchen making a pot of tea when the doorbell rang, he noticed the shadow of a person on the other side of the opaque glass in the door, before bending down to pick up the newspaper.
He opened the door and immediately dropped the newspaper as he looked at the person standing in front of him, “no it can’t be!” He exclaimed.
Ruth moved forward with her arms outstretched, her eyes filled up, “father it is me I have come back.”
Her father stood motionless unable to comprehend what his eyes were seeing.
Ruth embraced him, “father you’re not dreaming, everyone thought I was dead, Max found me by mistake, being held by the man responsible for all of this.”
Duncan Nelson wrapped his arms around her his eyes filled
up, “my darling daughter I never thought I would see or hold you again.”
They were interrupted by a female voice from inside the house, “Duncan who is it at this time of the day?”
Ruth’s father reached for a hanky from his trouser pocket and wiped his tears away, he paused for a second to compose himself before replying, “We have a visitor darling.”
Susan Nelson, had been sitting in the conservatory at the back of the house reading a book when the doorbell had rang, “well don’t just stand out there bring whoever it is in, they can join us for a pot of tea.”
Ruth followed her father to the conservatory where her mother was sitting.
Susan Nelson looked up at the visitor; she let out a cry and the book fell from her hands to the floor.
Ruth moved forward quickly bent down and embraced her Mother, she held her tightly as they both wept.
After a few minutes, Ruth relaxed her grip allowing her Mother to stand up and speak.
“Ruth how is this possible, we buried you only a four days ago.”
“Please both of you sit down and I will explain ever
ything,” replied Ruth.
Ten minutes later Ruth had finished her account of her
abduction and rescue.
Her father stood up, “this calls for a celebration and I know just the drink for it.”
He left the room heading for his cellar, returning with a bottle of a 1971 Dom Pérignon Champaign.
He released the cork and poured three generous helpings handing a glass to both Ruth and his wife before speaking; “they say that miracles never happen; we have one with us now; to you Ruth and Max Storm your saviour.”
The three of them drank, savouring the remarkable freshness of Champaign.
Chequers
Aylesbury Buckinghamshire, and the country residence of British Prime Minister.
Lat = 51 degrees, 44.6 minutes North
Long = 0 degrees, 46.7 minutes West
Sunday 1st January 1989
Eleven hundred hours GMT
Members of the Everest committee had arrived promptly for the urgent meeting at the Prime Ministers country home of Chequers.
Coffee and tea had been laid out in one of the boardrooms; there was a hum of talk between the members, many indicating their dissent of being called in on the New Year’s Day.
The door opened and the Prime minister walked in, Major Strayker and Colonel Storm followed her.
“Be seated gentlemen.”
The committee took their seats, and the PM spoke, “Firstly I apologies for the inconvenience that this meeting may have caused many of you, however it has not been called lightly, I would like to introduce Colonel Max Storm whom you have all heard of, but I believe this is the first time you have met him.”
The Everest members nodded their heads in recognition to Max.
“Colonel Storm will bring us to date with the Sri Lanka mission and the one we are here today for gentlemen.
Admiral Fox we will start with your update.”
“Ma’am, gentlemen, the Ark Royal arrived in Lago de
Maracaibo in Venezuela at Zero-six forty-one hours our time this morning, the Venezuelan President and his guests will attend a banquet at twenty hundred hours local time on Tuesday the 3rd, I have arranged for a tele-conference between yourself and the president Ma’am, for you to address our mission with him. All equipment and facilities on board the ship are ready for the OSC teams,” he then sat down,
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