‘Murdered? Why?’
‘He was of no further use to them and he was the man who had protected Fletcher Barrington in Bosnia when they were connected with the sex gangs, which consisted of senior officers from Russia, America and Britain in Tuzla and Sarajevo. The bastards are all being killed off by Nadège and Petra. He was the last but one of the sex ring. Only Barrington remains alive.’
‘That fits exactly with what Nadège told me when she was firing bullets around the cell trying to kill me off. But somehow she pulled back – she was raging like nothing I’ve seen before. How do you know she had my child though?’
‘Nadège had been loose with her tongue when she was high on drugs and alcohol with Duff. She said she’d had a child after a fling with a British intelligence agent nine years ago.’
Sean was gobsmacked. His emotions started to play havoc in his mind. His gut told him he needed to find and kill Nadège, who deserved nothing less in his mind. But now Jack had thrown him a curve ball, signifying he was the father of her child.
But where exactly was his son?
Chapter 46
France
Cold dank space. The smell of aircraft fumes. Urns of tea and coffee on trestle tables. Rows of plastic seats and a series of projector screens hanging from parachute cords off metal beams. The cavernous voids of aircraft hangars always felt the same to Sean. He had spent countless hours waiting for Special Forces’ operations to kick off in these types of spaces and they always gave him the same feeling. A sense of adrenalin, a sense of excitement, a real buzz.
Swartz tapped Sean on the shoulder, pointing to a row of trestle tables. ‘Let’s grab some tea and toast. This is going to be some bloody operation with the amount of kit they’ve flown in.’
Sean’s mind still wasn’t in the right place and he had trouble concentrating on any single thought. The ruminations were hounding him. He lingered behind Swartz, taking in the extraordinary sights in the hangar. It was a veritable hive of activity, the hangar full of military staff and tons of specialist equipment. A bunch of men in civilian clothes were setting up satellite-communications equipment, map boards were being erected and other uniformed soldiers were hanging signs throughout the hangar identifying which organisation should sit where.
Standing with a coffee that Swartz had poured him, Sean spied a few of the signs, trying to make sense of it all. Along one side of the hangar he could make out the words ‘Metrology’, ‘Medical’, and ‘Geoint’. On the opposite side were signs saying ‘Decontamination’, ‘Intelligence’ and ‘Detection’. The tactical command centre included a multitude of national experts, all of whom had been flown at a moment’s notice from the US as part of the NEST teams. The operation also included the US Navy Seals, who had established their base in the hangar next door.
‘No toast,’ Swartz piped up. ‘What kind of set-up is this where’s there no bloody toast? I’m starving.’
‘They do things differently here, by the looks of it, it’s much bigger and certainly different. Our peculiarity for tea and toast hasn’t quite made it across the pond yet mate.’
‘Well, the last time I worked with these ninjas they couldn’t get enough of us. Thought we were the dogs, mate.’
Sean managed to raise a smile at Swartz’s exuberance, who was excited about what would come in the hours and days ahead. Dressed in desert wellies and jeans, Sean and Swartz stood drinking their coffee, gazing at the world’s most secretive nuclear operators. They watched scientists and soldiers scurrying around, preparing their state-of-the-art equipment, trained and ready to deal with nuclear Armageddon and with the means to stop it.
It was impressive to see what some of the NEST teams’ annual budget of twenty-five million dollars had been spent on. Sean glanced at a small fleet of nondescript cars through the partially opened doors of the hangar, ordinary-looking vehicles turned into radiation-detection vans. Men and women walked around the hangar with wireless earpieces, bomb-disposal robots were being tested and desk after desk of staff officers represented each specialist department for the operation. Right in the centre of the hangar were three semicircles of chairs and two lecterns with a projector screen located between them. The nuclear ninjas were in town and ready for action.
The NEST teams and FBI maintain a permanent force to respond to events in Washington and along the Northeast Corridor, whilst a second team trained to dismantle nuclear weapons is based in Albuquerque. Eight other teams able to diagnose radioactive materials are on continuous alert, ready to be deployed anywhere in the US or overseas if needed. The NEST teams have the ability to deploy hundreds of people to the scene of a radiological incident, but deployments are normally much smaller, generally involving around forty to fifty scientists and servicemen. On this occasion there were a good two hundred operators complete with a variety of equipment weighing up to 150 tons, along with a small fleet of aircraft including four helicopters and three airplanes, all primed to search for the terrorists and their devices.
Sean pulled up a green canvas chair, glanced around the room at the maps on the wall and shook hands with those around him. He was sat amongst twelve other senior members of the NEST and Navy Seal teams, waiting for the strategic command briefing. The quiet chatter around him shrouded the sense of intrigue within the room at an unknown face being amongst a cabal of US officers, all of whom knew each other. Sean was now sporting a full beard, neatly trimmed for the day, a grey T-shirt, Jeff Banks jeans and beige desert wellies which announced to the quorum that a Brit was amongst them.
Four individuals entered the room carrying papers and cups of coffee. Leading the way was a female, in her late forties, Sean thought, followed by three men, one of whom wore the insignia of a US general, the other two in civilian attire. They filed in behind each other and sat behind a long table at the head of the room. The muttering ceased and an air of expectation fell across the room. The last man in was Jack, who introduced himself as the British Intelligence Liaison Officer. The other three each introduced themselves to the twelve commanders who would turn their strategy into operational reality. The commanders had in front of them four individuals who they had never seen before on the many and varied NEST teams’ exercises held within the US and occasionally overseas. Laura was the CIA’s representative, General ‘Big Al’ Gordon was the United States Strategic Commander from European Command, EUCOM, and the final representative, Jim, was EUCOM’s Political Liaison Officer. A fifth senior official, a representative of the US National Security Agency, had been delayed and would arrive later that day.
Brief introductions were made amongst the sixteen senior commanders before Big Al introduced Laura, the only female present, and invited her to provide the intelligence briefing to the men. Known for her shock and awe tactics, she was about to deliver a virulent and punchy briefing. Sean perked up and rid himself of any ruminations as Laura stood and launched straight into her speech.
‘As a culture we focus on those finely balanced moments when, against all the odds, the stars align perfectly and great things are achieved. Gentlemen, we will achieve that great thing, but be under no illusion – our enemy are equally intent on those stars aligning to achieve their great thing. The decimation of thousands of people. Do not, under any circumstances, allow this moment to conspire against us so that they win, and our moment turns to utter shit.’
Sean marvelled at this no-nonsense woman, who was delivering one of the finest motivational speeches he had ever heard. He watched as Laura stopped speaking and looked every man in the eye. He could tell she would breathe fire and shoot brimstone. A sense of expectation cut through the men in the room like no other briefing he had ever attended.
‘The conspiracy of circumstances that has led us to this moment is just so wildly improbable that you could probably live multiple lives and never see this again,’ she uttered with pure conviction. ‘It’s a monster riding through a blue moon on Halley’s fucking Comet.’
Laura paused frequently for effect. �
��Unless you guys make a difference today, and the next day, and every day, these bastard Iranians will have burnt the souls of our ancestors and every good human being this side of the Persian Gulf. We must not fail. If you want a mission statement, that is it. You guys like a mission statement to be said twice. So here it is. You must not fail. You must not fail.’
The atmosphere in the room was tense and brittle. Sean wondered what the hell would come next. This was one feisty woman. Sharp and attractive too. Laura stood in a blue two-piece suit with white blouse, her dark hair neatly tied up in a bun. She was wearing flat shoes but, with her vernacular, they seemed like burning killer heels. Sean watched her with some admiration as she flicked a page of her notes laid on the table. He looked around him, struck by the effect this woman was having on some of the most battle-hardened men in the world. He took a swig from his bottle of water as she continued.
‘I have no idea if there is just one improvised nuclear device or two or more. That’s just the way it is. It’s the intelligence I don’t have and it’s for you guys to find,’ she said, nodding at the NEST team commander, a full colonel from the US Army. ‘We need all our bases covered to find where the radiation is emitting from in the area of the G7 conference, and then we launch the operation to disable the bombs.’ She turned briefly to introduce Jack, who was sat furthest away from her, the only man in the room wearing a suit and tie. Jack was adjusting his tie so that it sat perfectly in the middle of his shirt. ‘It is the Brits who infiltrated the Iranian operation and I'd like to thank the man in the red tie from Her Majesty's security service for getting us here today. Without Jack and the man in front of me, death incarnate may have come to seven world leaders and thousands of innocent civilians.’
Sean briefly felt a tinge of redness rise through his face as Laura’s finger pointed right at him. Her eyes were searing into his very being. She continued to point at him, speaking about the British operation, whilst murmurs of applause permeated the room. He hated it.
Jack stood and, with impeccable manners, gave the details of the intelligence that Sean had collected. ‘My intelligence has verified that the mastermind of this operation has set up a command hub somewhere on the Iberian Peninsula and that’s where the trigger finger resides to commence the Iranian attacks. My team will concentrate on finding that location with SIGINT and then we’ll take him and his sidekicks down. In the meantime, gentlemen, you’ll be finding and tackling the nuclear devices and taking out any terrorists protecting them. My intelligence shows that each device will be protected by armed terrorists, but we don’t know how many or what kind of armoury they will have. Equally concerning is that the sensitive-site exploitation that my teams undertook on the bomb factory suggests more than one nuclear device. Our assessment is that there could be one or two, but it’s unlikely to be more than that. Each of the devices is estimated to have a yield of about a kiloton. Our assumption is that the nuclear devices will be protected by armed Iranians prepared to die for the cause, and the location of his trigger point will be the same.’ Jack took a step from behind the table and walked towards the wall, adjusting his tie as he walked. Sean knew he’d do that. Jack was always fiddling with his tie. It was a foible of nervousness from the impeccable master of intrigue.
‘The Iranian mastermind is this man on the wall here, General Ali Alimani. His command-and-control hub, wherever it is, will trigger a series of catastrophic events across Europe that we have to stop and contain. Oh, and to verify our concern that there is more than one nuclear device, we found one more body at the bomb-making factory – the body of a nuclear scientist who had helped the bomber make the devices.’
Sean lurched forward, utterly surprised by this announcement. Jack caught his eye and simply continued.
‘My operators knew about one single device, but until we completed the forensic search of the factory we didn’t know that General Alimani had another one ready to deploy at the G7 and to attack with at the same time. What we now know is that his entire operation is based upon extortion. Extortion against the G7 which, if they don’t do what he wants, will result in him initiating attacks in Europe to prove that his threats are credible. He plans to issue a threat of nuclear devices exploding unless the G7 agree to halt sanctions against Iran, as well as other more rigid demands. We assume this is the last stand of a regime in total meltdown. He even expects Iran’s demands to be discussed right there and then at the G7.’
‘Madman,’ a voice called out from the periphery of Sean’s view. ‘An act of war,’ said another voice.
Jack acknowledged the comments, knowing full well that it was the Russians who had agitated to get their Iranian proxies to this point and cause global chaos, which would then draw America into an unwanted full-scale war. ‘Of course, he won’t get away with it, but he is committed to the cause and extremely likely to explode the devices unless we find them all. Our assessment is that the nuclear devices have been concealed inside dishwashers and that they are viable.’
Sean felt the hairs on his neck rise as Jack mentioned the word ‘viable’. All along, Sean had thought there was one device. Now it was becoming clear: he had been used as the lure to find the bomb-making factory and its single tactical nuclear shell. The intelligence indicating that there was more than one device had come from the detailed counter-IED forensics at the Kuwaiti bomb factory. The forensics that Phil had collected during the sensitive-site exploitation suggested that there were two dishwashers and enough uranium for two devices – but what about the two suitcases he’d found in the caches in Turkey? Where were they destined for?
Jack fielded one or two questions before sitting down, and Laura began walking around the room to where the maps were displayed on the wall.
‘Gentlemen, your operational orders will follow this session. There are two aims and one mission. You know the mission,’ Laura began, waving her hand around the map of France centred on Biarritz. ‘Our assessment suggests they will deploy two devices around the G7 location which, in all likelihood, will include one in the Bay of Biscay on a vessel. We’ll nail the maritime location I’m sure, but the other one needs some hard work. The second aim is to take down the command hub once we’ve found it.’ She walked back to the table, picking up her notes. ‘This is a two-eyes US and UK operation, kept from the public and the press using the highest levels of secrecy, meaning that every single person on this operation will not use mobile phones or disclose any element of this operation for years to come. Finally, a big thanks to the Brits today, who will lead the task to find the command hub. Any questions?’
The Navy Seal commander was the first to chip in. ‘There’s an exclusion zone two miles from the shore of Biarritz. What’s the plan if a vessel ignores it and heads straight for the G7? I don’t have enough men for multiple-vessel interdictions.’
Big Al stood up and walked to the map that showed the defence for the G7 conference. ‘In case you’re not aware, the G7 conference is the most heavily defended conference in the world. We’ve already got three or four rings of steel surrounding the venue and the French are providing the naval assets for maritime protection, which include two destroyers and surface-to-air missile defence. Add to that airborne early-warning capability and air defence monitoring the skies and we have all the necessary assets at our disposal. My role is to inject the threat and intelligence at the right time to make sure that, if our interdiction operations don’t go to plan, we can bring air assets into play and sink vessels.’
The political advisor added to the General’s words. ‘Most importantly, we must not under any circumstances reveal that there is a nuclear threat to the conference. We cannot have a panic-stricken public across Europe; the fallout would be unmanageable.’
‘What about other European targets?’ Sean asked. ‘Are they contained or are the threats non-nuclear?’
‘A very good question Sean,’ Laura replied, with a smile. ‘Jack, can you answer that?’
‘Yes of course. We’ve tracked the suit
case bombs and are ready to interdict them with conventional assets. They are sat in London and under surveillance. The intelligence suggests they are dirty bombs. Radiological dispersal devices. The other conventional, but high-powered, IEDs have been tracked and traced to Paris and Brussels.’
Sean nodded, knowing that tracking devices were on each device, making interdiction much easier. ‘OK, thanks. What’s the plan for hitting the command cell?’
‘You led us to the bomb-making factory and uncovered the plot – this is the moment we have all been waiting for so we want you to find and take down the command hub. You’ll have a British SAS team and military assets ready to help once we’ve found the site and you have a plan.’
Chapter 47
Asturias, Spain
Sean leant on the wooden balustrade of the upper decking of a split-level chalet, gazing at the glorious view across the meadows to the quaint river below. A herd of cows and the gentle chime of their bells broke the silence across the remote valley that lay below him, the gentle trickle of river water providing the backdrop to Sean’s thoughts. San Pelayo de Tehona would be the perfect place to return to once he’d fixed the domestic problems in his life, he thought.
His mind drifted to many places that morning. What to do with Nadège when he found her? The chances were she’d be killed in any assault on the building anyway. How would he feel if that happened? Probably a mixture of relief and grief. What about her son? Who would bring him up? Sean was beginning to become overwhelmed by the new drawers of trauma that were being added to the ones he’d already kept firmly shut in his life. Why me, for fuck’s sake? I just want peace now.
The Kompromat Kill Page 32
