Betrayed: (A Financial and Conspiracies Thriller – Book 1 in the Legacy Thriller Series)

by William Wield

  She was more interested, however, in why Zaytsev had failed and although Rollo’s account of how the two of them had been captured was second or even third hand – as relayed to Rollo from the Laird via the Major - Izolda listened to it with intensity. She was particularly interested in Rollo’s description of the ‘imported’ Russian security people at the castle. She already knew about Boreyev and had done her research on him and his men, but she was keen to get the others’ impressions of them to add to her knowledge of them.

  Rollo repeated Komarov’s rationale for the attack they were now going to embark upon, and although Komarov had told her every detail of both the Norbally Team’s role and her own, she listened patiently as Rollo went through it.

  ‘I don’t know if he’s told you or not,’ said Rollo, ‘but it bears repeating anyway. Your boss, Igor Komarov, thinks that the Craithe lot will simply not believe anyone will be rash enough to have another go at stealing the Athena software so soon after the last debacle. He reckons – and I agree – that we have therefore a good element of surprise in this next venture.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Izolda, surprising Rollo that she had anything to contribute. He looked back at her but could see nothing in her large, expressionless, almost black eyes.

  The team of ex Coverts, had been busily checking over their equipment. The urgency of this response to the Craithe kidnap fiasco was less to do with the death of Flaxman, it had much more to do with Rollo’s keeper of his secrets, Bookie. He, of course, was now being held at the Castle and from the way the team was working this was what motivated them too. Rollo also knew that a bold attack now would restore his remaining team’s morale.

  A team of his four coverts were told to get themselves into ‘battle order’. This meant donning army-like camouflage uniforms together with standard black balaclavas - the usual uniform of soldiers of this kind. In addition to small arms they were to take a surface to surface rocket launcher and its missiles. Two trainee coverts were to be left at Norbally to guard it.

  By the time the team were ready for inspection and briefing, it was around ten in the morning. There was a tingle of excitement – even amongst these hard men. To emphasise their former military backgrounds, they stood at ease as they waited for him to come and address them but came to attention when Rollo came out into the back yard of the big house and came over to them.

  ‘All right, at ease!’ he commanded, and then followed it with ‘Stand Easy!’ He also had clothed himself in mock-military uniform. ‘As you’ll all know by now, Greg, Bookie and Shaun were prevented from completing their recent mission and Greg gallantly gave his life in trying to carry out a difficult mission. Heavily outnumbered, Bookie was captured,’ said Rollo, his strong voice projected out unnecessarily loud considering the small number of men present. Though this speech embellished the truth to put yesterday’s fiascos into the best possible light, building morale was important for this new mission and, anyway, to hell with uncheckable ‘facts’.

  ‘Bookie is now incarcerated in the filthy dungeons of some mediaeval landowner,’ continued Rollo, ‘and is no doubt is being tortured to disclose information of our past work here at Norbally House. These people on the island of Craithe are a serious threat to our organisation and its future. They will think nothing of distorting the truth to tarnish our reputation. Such cowardly distortion of what we do here could jeopardise everything we have built here together and I for one am not going to sit idly by and let that go unchallenged. Are you committed with me in this venture to rescue Bookie, one of our comrades in arms, and once again secure our futures together?’ There was a murmur of assent in the team and he continued. ‘No one up at this castle will expect such an audacious attack in broad daylight. We will catch them completely off guard. I reckon they’ll submit just to the threat of our arrival. We will make a gesture of intent by firing a single missile up at the walls of the castle. I understand that the castle brochure boasts of withstanding the armies of Cromwell and the clans,’ he gave a cough of derision, ‘well, let’s see what they make of modern weaponry and a team such as ours.’

  He looked round his men, and finished his little speech in higher tempo, ‘if they’re stupid enough to resist, and you are called upon to fight, I know you’ll give a good account of yourselves and of your rigorous training. Good luck to us all.’ He raised his pistol in the air and fired a single shot.

  At this point Izolda might have disclosed what she had learned of Boreyev. She might have informed the group that Boreyev was at the Castle with men to defend it, but she did not. She had her own plan to obtain the Athena software – a much more important goal than retrieving Rollo’s stolen files, or even the impossible one of kidnapping the Macraes a second time and even attempting them might jeopardise her mission.

  They all clambered aboard the Eurocopter with Izolda first in as it had been explained that on landing, she would remain in the helicopter. One of the team rashly bet that this was to spare her any involvement in the fighting. As soon as all were aboard, the Eurocopter started up, clattered into the air and swung north.

  They were soon out over the North Irish Sea and continued due north with the Mull of Kintyre already in clear view over to their right. As soon as they reached the first of the islands, however, the helicopter swung out left, to the west and flew the outer, western side of the Island of Islay and on up to Colonsay. Unknown to them of course, this was the route that Boreyev had predicted they would take – this was hardly surprising as this was the only viable approach for an undetected attack on the Castle.

  The flight got them to the south end of Islay in less than four minutes; as Boreyev had predicted, not only were they still out of sight of the Castle, but the noise of the machine was also shielded from the Castle by the lower slopes of the mountains. The approach brought them round to the South-West Tower and almost immediately to the terraced lawns below the Castle’s south front. It was just before coming in to land that Izolda swung herself over the back of the rear bench-seat and hid herself in the small empty luggage-well there.

  Quickly drawing up, the helicopter landed on the top terrace. As soon as it was grounded, the engines were switched off and, as rehearsed, Rollo, the four men and the pilot jumped down out of the machines. All ran forward a few paces from the helicopter and crouched down onto one knee, AK47 assault weapons at the ready. Rollo then went forward and gave a signal to one of the men who had a rocket launcher over one arm. The rocket launcher was raised aimed and fired. The rocket itself covered the distance in less than two seconds and exploded into the granite wall of the tower. A deafening smack of the impact and explosion rattled and echoed round the castle walls. For all the noise of the impact, it left just a four-foot star shaped circle where it had blasted the surface off the granite.

  Less than a couple of seconds later, as the balaclava-hooded man began to lower the rocket launcher to reload it, there was a sound of two dull thuds as mortars were fired from behind the low walls on either side of the terraced lawns. Two arcs of smoke traced the fired canisters through the air. As soon as they were directly over the helicopter, both canisters exploded with as much noise as the rocket moments earlier and two huge umbrellas of dark grey rain-like material spread out in wide circles from each of them – like grim, dark star-bursts from some sinister firework display. These wide charcoal- coloured umbrellas of rain then fell towards the ground, landing on and covering the helicopter rotors and then the helicopter itself and, all the while, the constituent parts of the umbrellas seemed to be coalescing into a fine net, droplet merging with droplet.

  The men beneath this spreading net that had been thrown over them, looked up in stunned silence. They seemed frozen by the effect of the extraordinary weapon that had been unleashed over them. Seconds later, just as the first ‘rain’ was reaching the men themselves, two more mortars were fired at slightly different angles from the first two. Further umbrella-shaped nets of the fine rain also fell over the machine and the men below.

>   Within another two or three seconds the helicopter and men were coated in a cold, dark grey gunge which was quickly setting like some epoxy glue. Like dark-grey honey in texture to start with, it quickly set thicker and, if pulled, it stretched apart stickily, a little as would any glue if pulled before it has set. The men were now struggling with it, arms sticking to sides, hands to weapons, fingers to fingers. The more they struggled, the more the myriad fine stings of pulled glue-like substance stuck a hand to a thigh, or a weapon to a knee. In a matter of seconds, the whole area looked as though it were coated in some weird Spanish moss with the immobilised men entrapped within it.

  Boreyev and his six men, along with Angus, Sir Jeremy, and the Laird walked slowly out to the men from behind the hedges bordering the terraces. All but two of the attackers had by now given up struggling. These two were still valiantly trying to fire their weapons – now in self-defence. At first they found the sticky glue-like substance caused their fingers to slip off safety catches but, within seconds, with the glue set, it rendered them powerless to do anything.

  All six from the helicopter, Rollo, the pilot and the four coverts, were now gently handcuffed with plastic pull through handcuffs by the castle group wandering around between them. All were relieved of their weapons which were collected up into a pile and taken to one side, well away from the helicopter and the men. Sir Jeremy, now able to touch the set glue, helped Rollo to his feet. The latter was red in the face and seemed in danger of heart failure, excepting for the stream of quiet, vituperative, cursing pouring out of him.

  The two men stood there facing each other were, for a second or two, as sharp a contrast between each other in appearance as they were in character. The tall Sir Jeremy, looking frail in comparison to the well-built slightly shorter Rollo. Sir Jeremy smiling, but not unkindly, Rollo now reduced to an almost speechless, gunge-covered statue.

  ‘Don’t suppose you were expecting that reception, were you Mr Rollo?’ said Sir Jeremy.

  Rollo did not reply immediately. He looked down at the ground for a moment and then looking back up at the other simply said, ‘what in God’s name is this stuff?’

  ‘It came with some friends of my nephew’s,’ replied Sir Jeremy, not very helpfully. Then he added, as though to complete the answer, ‘comes the whole way from Russia – quite effective don’t you think. It’s only been used for mob control to date but it seems to have worked quite well for this too?’

  As he spoke the set glue-like substance began to turn white and then, quite quickly, to degenerate into fine white powder. This released the bonds and all those formerly entrapped in the glue-netting, and they all became progressively freer to move – apart from the handcuffs of course.

  “That’s been a problem with this new weapon,’ said Boreyev smiling as he brought a couple of Rollo’s men with him up to stand next to Sir Jeremy and Rollo. ‘We’re working on that. In crowd control we have had to work fast before the degeneration has released everyone, because of course those formerly entrapped can run off as soon as the glue turns to powder.’

  Soon all the ex-coverts and the pilot had been brought over and stood there in a group near Sir Jeremy and Rollo. As though no one but Sir Jeremy was present, Boreyev continued with his explanation of the failings of this new weapon of his.

  ‘When we were in the Ukraine the other day, in order to retain the power of crowd control over the mobs, we had to keep firing more canisters until we’d got them all tied up – very expensive.’

  This aside made Rollo even more enraged than before.

  ‘And what do you propose to do with us now, might I ask?’ he said in a whisper of fury.

  ‘We’ll answer all your questions in due course, but for now, we just need to get you all locked up until the authorities get here,’ replied Sir Jeremy.

  The group was then turned and moved up the steps and across the gravel towards the great oak doors. As one of the doors was unlocked from inside, Sir Jeremy turned again to Rollo who was being led in just behind him.

  ‘Firstly, of course, you’ve done rather more than just trespass onto Crown Dependency property’ he said. ‘This means that you’ve broken International Law as well as several laws of the Isle of Man and the Isles.’

  Rollo’s sullen response was just a grunt of ‘so what’, as he ran over in his mind the implications of this debacle.

  ‘I shall also be informing Her Majesty’s Government of this shortly’ continued Sir Jeremy, ‘and no doubt they would like to talk to you some more regarding work you used to do for them during ‘the Troubles’.

  ‘I’ll have you all for the theft of my property as soon as your bloody authorities get here,’ swore Rollo.

  By now they had all filed into the cavernous outer hall and from there back through the kitchens areas, across an inner courtyard and put into an outhouse full of stacked piles of logs and firewood. There were a number of redundant old benches and chairs, long past normal use which would one day feed the fires in the castle and the prisoners were told to sit on these.

  ‘As you may imagine, the Laird has very extensive dungeons here in the castle,’ said Sir Jeremy, ‘but the tourists looking round the castle like to see those –but empty – so I’m afraid you’ll have to manage in these sheds until the Police Launch is able to get here. You’ll no doubt be happy to hear that should be in not much more than a few hours or so.’

  With that, Boreyev’s men, Angus, the Laird and Sir Jeremy left them, locking the stout door firmly behind them.

  Almost as soon as the Prisoners had been gathered together and taken up to the Castle – indeed even before they were fully out of sight through the front door, Izolda, who had kept low in the well behind the rear seats when Boreyev’s man had checked it out from the ground, now climbed over the bench-seat. Peering at the disappearing captors and prisoners, she scrambled forward and jumped down out of the helicopter. Then she ran over to a group of tourists who were just coming round the side of the castle, through the great arch near the south west tower and joined in behind them. They had not seen Rollo’s arrival – though they had heard it. But they had not seen the attack or the counter attack, and, even if they had, with the helicopter now sitting there, they might well have wondered why a film was being rehearsed without any cameras in sight.

  As the group in front of Izolda were shepherded in through the main front doors and into the entrance hall, they had not noticed as she tagged herself on behind them.

  Having memorised the castle diagram and descriptions that Komarov had emailed to her smartphone yesterday, as the group went towards the main dining room, she veered off to the right and ran up the stairs, holding a satchel-like bag on a strap round her neck close to her side. She hoped that most, if not all of Boreyev’s men had been involved in the helicopter attack and she had seen none since, but she now held in front of her, her neat little Yaragin pistol with its silencer, down by her side but ready for instant use. Running silently up the stairs, she counted floors as she went. On reaching the floor of the Lab she slowed down and listened. There was just the faintest sound of someone speaking inside, but that was all. She quickly entered the pistol in front of her. There, in front of her, was just the Professor, Perry and Kim. Perry, to whom Kim had spoken so often from the Isle of Man, had been showing her round the Lab. The three of them froze in horror on the appearance of Izolda, now holding her pistol out in front of her.

  She now faced the dilemma she had earlier wrestled with. Boreyev, his men, along with Sir Jeremy and the Laird would probably not take long settling their prisoners in wherever it was they were to be held. After that they would be coming back into the castle and most likely checking around that all was now well. This now meant that she did not have the time for another lengthy download of Athena. With the integrity of the download of Athena the very crux of the mission, she had arrived at the point of decision. She opted to ask for the hard drive that Zaytsev had checked out but had been taken back from him.

  ‘I am
here for the external Hard Drive that my colleague Mr Zaytsev had taken from him,’ she said, pointing the pistol directly at the professor.

  He seemed to hesitate, as though not sure she would use the weapon. Naturally, she noticed this and, in a single smooth, but lightning-fast move she swung the gun to her right, aimed at an exposed lightbulb the far end of the room and shattered it with one shot. She then levelled the gun back at the Professor. As she did so, she took a step closer towards him and lowered the aim of the gun.

  ‘If you want to go on walking into old age,’ she said quietly, ‘you’ll find that external hard drive right now, is that clear enough for you?’

  The Professor knew that it still only contained the faked up copy of the Athena software they had downloaded for Zaytsev yesterday. He stepped gently forward to the trestle table, picked out from behind one of the laptops there and handed it over to her.

  ‘Put it into one of these drives, bring up “properties” and then stand back so that I can verify a second time what’s on it.’

  The Professor did as she asked and plugged the drive into the laptop. Perry had written a programme which just listed all the files that should make up the real software but here only listed them without their contents. As this deceit was an invention of the Craithe Team’s, no amount of training or experience could have prepared her for it. Izolda’s was therefore taken in by it – especially as Zaytsev had not mentioned anything about it in his call after he had been captured. Now she just nodded her head.

  ‘You,’ she then said, waving the gun at Kim, ‘over here next to me, and the two of you,’ she continued looking back at the professor and Perry, ‘your mobile telephones please, put them on the table there.’ She then looked around and seeing one other picked that up too and pulled the telephone wires out of the wall socket. She put the mobiles and the external drive in the bag strung around her neck and, with the gun still trained on the two men, threw two small plastic ring handcuffs over to the professor.