Scion

by Murray Mcdonald

  “What’s happening?” asked Rosie as they pulled away.

  “Slight change of plan. Will that be a problem?” asked Clark staring into her eyes.

  “As long as I get paid, I don’t care. I’m freelance,” she replied coldly.

  “Excellent. Can you climb in the back and see what sort of equipment we have?”

  As Rosie climbed into the boot area, Karl’s phone buzzed, Clark didn’t hesitate to answer it.

  “Hello,” he said gruffly.

  “Base here. We have a problem your passengers are no longer welcome. I repeat your passengers are no longer welcome.”

  “Understood,” replied Clark.

  Clark hung up the phone, his temper flaring. Walker was right, they were marked men. Both he and Walker had devoted their lives only to be written off without a thought or a thank you. The fuckers would pay.

  “Few MP5’s and Sig Sauers and a sniper rifle,” shouted Rosie from the boot.

  Clark didn’t respond, he just pushed his foot to the floor and watched as the time to the target reduced. With only two minutes to go, he spotted the helicopter. The small gunship sped menacingly ahead disappearing quickly out of view. He pressed his foot down harder but with nowhere to go, nothing changed. He wasn’t going to make it. He was still over two miles away although they were closing at the equivalent of over 240 mph, less than 30 seconds away. But Clark knew a gunship wouldn’t take that long, it would be over almost before it started.

  Clark watched the screen and without warning slammed on the brakes and screamed at Rosie.

  “Sniper rifle!”

  As the car skidded to a stop, Rosie struggled to pull the rifle out of its holder. Clark was at the boot of the Range Rover almost instantly, grabbing the half prepared rifle from Rosie’s hands. He slammed in the magazine and ran up the small incline onto the bridge that he had spotted on the map. As he reached the railing, he could already hear the clack clack clack of the minigun. Hoping he wasn’t too late he put the rifle to his shoulder and looked through the scope, magnifying his view ten fold. They were still nearly half a mile away as he took aim and pressed down on the trigger.

  Chapter 20

  Within thirty minutes, the house was unrecognisable. Helicopters littered the front yard while highly armed personnel patrolled and scoured every inch of the property. A clean up crew had already been and gone, assuring no investigation would be necessary into the killing of the sniper and his spotter. As far as anyone was concerned they had simply ceased to exist.

  Ashley’s call to her boss had ensured a rapid and overwhelming response. The Defence Intelligence Agency did not take kindly to its agents being kidnapped. Ashley’s direct boss was the head of the Strategic Support Branch, a highly secretive and clandestine branch within the already mysterious DIA. Its remit was wide ranging, protecting the national security of the USA with negligible limitations unlike the Central Intelligence Agency which, after years of scandal, had severe restrictions over what it could and could not do. The SSB also had the ability to operate domestically and internationally and was America’s front line defence. As such, it had within its employ some of the hardest, brightest and most ruthless individuals operating beyond the bounds of any legal or governmental control. Whatever needed to be done, the SSB would deliver. Its position within the defence community ensured that it had unrestricted access to its sister defence agency, the all seeing, all hearing NSA and first option on any military staff. In other words, only the best of the best were ever offered positions within the SSB.

  Ashley’s entry to the Naval Academy had immediately caught the attention of the DIA’s recruiters. It wasn’t that often a high flying Harvard student quit their course to join the services. Her achievements throughout her time at the Academy ensured the attention turned to action and on the day of her graduation, Ensign Ashley Jones received a request to join the Superintendent of the Naval Academy for coffee. On arrival at his office, Ashley was shown in only to find that the Vice Admiral was not present, but replaced by a man dressed in a civilian suit introducing himself as Brigadier General Robert T. Jackson, (retired) Head of the SSB. He had explained their role and how he felt she could fit in. Without a moment’s hesitation, Ensign Ashley Jones accepted the job and unknown to her, jumped two pay grades instantly and left the room a full lieutenant.

  News of the new appointee spread like wildfire throughout the SSB. There was no one who didn’t know the wealth of her parents, her high school, university and Academy scores nor her spending habits or looks. Entry to the SSB straight from Academy was unheard of. All of the current staff had had to earn their right to be there and as such, Ashley’s appointment had not been well received, particularly as daddy had probably called in a few favours for his little darling. Only one thing stopped them trying to get rid of her from day one, the kitty for the first to bed her was touching a $1,000.

  Jackson knew his department inside out and knew how the men felt and what their objective was. He could have warned Ashley but felt it would do her no favours. She was entering a world where if you didn’t stand up and be counted, you’d die. Ashley had felt the tension the second she had walked into the SSB area of Bolling Air Force Base, the home of the DIA. Eyes lingered heavily while smiles were few and far between. It was obvious that she was not a welcome addition to the team.

  Ashley had always been a popular girl. Despite her wealth and looks, she was an extremely likeable person. Her warmness and sincerity were genuine. In less than two days, she had broken down the hardness of her new colleagues and within a week, the kitty for the first shag had been quietly redistributed. The only thing that was certain from that point on was that if anyone fucked with Ashley, they fucked with the whole of the SSB.

  Ashley’s call to the SSB operations desk had resulted in the calling out of two fast response teams, each comprising of six ex-special forces operatives, highly skilled in counter terrorist and hostage rescue situations. Within ten minutes, two H-76 Eagles, the military variants of the Sikorsky S-76 with their response teams were airborne and on their way to secure Ashley’s location.

  Jackson arrived forty minutes after Ashley’s call and found her sitting in the lounge.

  Ashley immediately stood to attention and saluted Jackson as he entered the room.

  “Sir,” she said as she snapped her hand to her temple.

  “Jones, seems you’ve caused a bit of a stir?” replied Jackson returning her salute.

  “Sir, yes Sir.”

  “So, what the hell does Darius think he’s doing?” asked Jackson taking the seat next to Ashley and instructing her to sit back down.

  Ashley immediately felt guilty, she had not reported her leaving The Palace and subsequent plans to visit London.

  “Well actually I don’t believe this has anything to do with Darius or his operation.”

  Jackson looked at her quizzically, mentor to protégé and immediately understood something else was going on.

  “I think you better explain,” he said quietly, dismissing with a wave Ashley’s guardian angels from the room.

  Ashley explained how she had been called to Darius’ office and assumed her cover was blown. However, it appeared that all Darius knew was that she wasn’t a prostitute and it seemed he had no idea the DIA were onto his arms dealings. She explained how, as he tried to kill her, she had recognised a young man on the TV in England who was being arrested and with whom she had lost contact. After escaping from Darius, she had made contact with the police station to find out how he was. She explained that they would not give her information over the phone and as a result, had decided to make a quick trip to England to check on him. She apologised but explained that it really was a family emergency and had every intention of calling him as soon as she had landed.

  “So who is he?”

  “Just a family friend.”

  “Must be a very good friend,” mused Jackson, looking directly at Ashley.

  “Yes,” she replied nervously hopin
g he didn’t pry any further. The less he asked, the less she’d have to lie. She couldn’t tell him the truth, at least not until she knew for certain.

  “So how did you end up here?”

  Ashley explained the killings at the mall, her abduction and the questioning that related to her friend and their use of her cover name Rosie.

  “Any idea who your friend may have upset?”

  “No,” lied Ashley. She didn’t even know him but she couldn’t tell Jackson that.

  “Any idea how they tracked you to the mall?”

  “Absolutely none, nobody knew I was going there and I definitely wasn’t followed.”

  “And you say they knew exactly what you said on the phone call to England?”

  “Yes, word for word, like they had a transcript of the call.”

  “And the bums you killed, you reckon they were ex-military?”

  “Definitely.”

  “If I didn’t know better this has our name written all over it, or another agency’s. Where did you say the arrest was?”

  “Cambridge.”

  “OK, give me a minute,” replied Jackson, dialling a number on his phone. “Jackson here, get me the duty officer.”

  “Good morning General Jackson, Dave Thomas here, duty officer.”

  “Hi Dave, I need you to check for any activities we’ve tracked or been involved with in the last 24 hours in or around Cambridge, England.”

  “Just SSB or DIA overall?”

  “Sorry Dave, anybody, any agency.”

  “Will do. Will I call you back on this number?”

  Jackson was somewhat taken aback. He had been told that his mobile was highly secure, untraceable and his number was most definitely not available. Apart from to the NSA, obviously.

  “Yes, thanks.”

  Five minutes later, a rather flustered Dave Thomas called back.

  “General, I’ve never experienced anything like it…”

  “Why, what’s going on?”

  “Sorry, I’m watching a live feed from just South of Cambridge…Jesus!”

  “Dave?”

  “Somebody outside of the Agency has control of one of our satellites and is tracking a car.”

  “How the hell can they do that?”

  “I’ve no idea but whoever is in that car is toast. There’s a helicopter shooting the shit out of it as we speak. It’s unbelievable!”

  “What? right now? You’re watching the feed real time?”

  “Yes, whoa, the car just swerved and shot off the road into a field.”

  “Jesus, have you alerted the local police?”

  “Yes, but wait a minute the helicopter’s stopped shooting. In fact, it’s just stopped.”

  “What do you mean it’s just stopped?”

  “Just that, the car swerved into the field and the helicopter just stopped and appears to have landed.”

  “What? And who’s controlling the satellite?”

  “God knows, it’s our satellite, under our control, but somebody is overriding our authority and is controlling it.”

  “Who has that authority?”

  “It doesn’t exist, nobody has authority over us.”

  “Jesus man, will you just speak plain fucking English!”

  “We have a security breach, someone’s using our system without our authority.”

  “What else have they got?”

  “They have transcripts of a few telephone conversations, two of which are between Washington and Cambridge and one between the British Prime Minister and the same place in Cambridge.”

  “Holy shit, how?”

  “I’ve got no idea but if it wasn’t for your call, we’d never have found out. Their link is so buried it would never have shown up unless we went looking.”

  “Have you called the Director?”

  “I’m just about to.”

  “OK, call me back if you find out what’s happening.”

  “Will do.”

  Jackson composed his thoughts as the repercussions of his conversation played out in his mind. He’d been in the game long enough to know that anybody who could access the NSA was a powerful adversary and anyone who could do it without being detected even more so. One thing was for sure, if they were in the NSA’s system they were definitely able to get into the DIA’s and his. He turned to Ashley.

  “You’ve been through a very traumatic experience. I want you to take some leave.”

  “But…”

  “What you do on your leave is up to you but if you were to find your way to England and find out what the fuck is going on, I’d be very interested to hear from you.” Jackson watched Ashley to make sure she was reading between the lines.

  Ashley began to nod her head understanding. “Of course Sir.”

  “Now if there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know and for God’s sake be careful.”

  “Yes Sir, of course Sir.”

  Jackson looked at his watch, “Now if I’m not mistaken there’s a United flight from Dulles just before ten a.m. which would give you time to get home, get your stuff and get the hell out of here.”

  Ashley stood to attention, saluted and quickly left to secure a ride to her house. She had a plane to catch.

  Just as she left, Jackson’s phone buzzed.

  “Jackson here.”

  “General Jackson, I’ve just spoken with the Director and he is extremely concerned about the National Security surrounding our previous conversation. Have you spoken to anyone else about my call Sir?”

  “No, of course not,” lied Jackson.

  “Thank God, I just got my ass chewed off for not speaking to him first. He wants to meet us both asap, he’s on his way in and has arranged for you to be picked up. He wants you personally to take control of the investigation.”

  “OK, I’ll wait here until the car arrives.”

  “It’s a chopper Sir, not a car.”

  “OK. Oh and Dave, what happened with the satellite feed, the chopper and the car?”

  “Sorry Sir, there’s somebody at the door, I’ll tell you when you get here, goodbye,” rushed Dave as he hung up the phone, leaving Jackson wondering what on earth was going on. However, it seemed he didn’t have long to wait, thumping rotors announced the arrival of another helicopter. Jackson walked outside and watched as the white unmarked Bell 430 landed in the middle of the lawn. He walked over to the pilot and checking it was from the NSA Director, climbed in. Thirty seconds later, they were airborne and on their way to Fort Meade, Maryland.

  Much to his staff’s surprise, fifteen minutes after Jackson had left, a car arrived for him, sent by the Director of the NSA. All they could offer was an apology to the driver informing him that he had already left by chopper and no-one knew where he was going. Only Dave Thomas knew the truth. The NSA Director had sent the chopper but then he wouldn’t be telling anybody. Dave and his deputy, the only two other people aware of The Unit’s infiltration of the NSA’s system, were already dead. The official version would record a car crash. However, if the real autopsy report had not been doctored, the police would have been searching for a gunman. Both had died from a gunshot wound to the head.

  The Bell 430 flew directly towards Fort Meade but as it continued past the huge complex, Jackson became concerned. The fact that the NSA Director, Lieutenant General Kenneth Coleman had not called himself had been praying on his mind. He had a very good working relationship with Coleman and would have expected a call inviting him over personally.

  “Where are we going?” asked Jackson as they continued East at full speed.

  The co-pilot turned round in his seat.

  “Don’t worry, it won’t be much longer Sir,” he smiled.

  “Why on earth should I be worried?” asked Jackson, finding the use of the word strange.

  The co-pilot, unsure how to reply, pulled out a small calibre pistol and shot Jackson between the eyes. The shock on Jackson’s face froze in time as the small bullet ricocheted throughout his skull killing
him instantly. Five minutes later, out over the Chesapeake Bay, Brigadier General Robert T. Jackson (retired) was buried at sea, his body dropping over one hundred feet to its watery grave.

  Chapter 21

  As the first bullet hit the boot, Scott dived over the seat and yanked the steering wheel to the left as Kelly’s screams over their impending doom rang in his ears. The suddenness and fierceness of Scott’s turn resulted in the car shuddering as it veered wildly to the left struggling to maintain its grip on the road surface. If it were not for the enhanced suspension of the high-speed BMW pursuit car, they would have flipped over but fortunately, the two right hand wheels managed to maintain their grip and the car slewed 90 degrees before hurtling across the hard shoulder and out into the neighbouring field, landing with a thump five feet below road level.

  The manoeuvre did not phase the helicopter pilot. The AH-6J was one of the most agile helicopters in the world and as the car began to turn, he simply followed the car round, keeping the machine guns trained on the car, the bullets continuing on their relentless path into the body of the car.

  ***

  Clark followed the track of his bullet as it flew though the air dropping over two feet in the ½ mile distance that it had to travel. Even before the bullet hit, Clark was up and moving, racing back to his car. He wanted to be back in London before anyone knew what had happened.

  ***

  The pilot of the chopper had his finger firmly pressed against the trigger, guiding the little chopper towards the target. The first he knew anything was wrong was when the rotors suddenly stopped turning; the momentary pause before they tipped forward was almost surreal.. With the front top heavy both pilots looked at each other in horror, they were one hundred feet from the ground and with a couple of tons of weight behind them, they didn’t stand a chance, if they were extremely lucky they wouldn’t feel anything. The helicopter plummeted down piling the pilots into the ground. The death screams of the pilots suggested they had definitely not been lucky.