Silent Warpath (Sean Quinlan Book 1)

by Dominic Conlon

  How in hell did they know about his connection with the Security Services? DD managed a shrug of the shoulders. ‘You know how it is’ he said nonchalantly.

  ‘Indeed I do’ said his interrogator magnanimously. ‘I imagine you’ll want to know how your friend is making out at the hospital.’

  DD thought rapidly. At least they didn’t know Lomax’s name. That was something.

  ‘No?’ asked the man. ‘I thought you and Lomax were a team - a great team. Surely you want to know how he is?’

  DD bit his lip.

  ‘I’m afraid he’s not doing very well. I rang them just before I came in. The surgeon says it’s unlikely he will survive the night.’ The man glanced at DD. ‘I’m sorry.’

  DD rested his forehead in both his hands. For the first time in years he felt truly alone.

  Flakes of snow whipped past and the wind chilled her to the bone. They had turned away from the burning garage and were making steady progress to the outskirts of the town when the shock hit her system. She began to shake uncontrollably on the back of the bike. At the conscious level Natasha knew this was only the reaction to the extreme circumstances of her narrow escape. Her teeth chattered and she circled her arms around Sean even tighter. She laid her head against his back as she started to feel light headed. She held onto Sean like a rock at high tide. Strangely she had never felt so free in her life. Snowflakes swirled around her and one melted on her forehead.

  A few moments passed before she heard the sound of the helicopter. At first she couldn’t see where it was coming from. When she glanced up she saw a powerful beam, snowflakes blowing in the downdraft. The helicopter quartered the ground behind them. She began to feel the chill of fear, colder than the freezing wind.

  The beam of light seemed to be gaining on them and it would only take a minute before it caught up. She tapped Sean on the shoulder and pointed upwards. She heard a click and the lights on the motorbike cut out. Suddenly darkness surrounded her.

  They were travelling along an unlit side road. She wondered how Sean could drive at this speed in the dark, with only the faint reflection of the snow on the road to guide them. The bike bucked a few times as it went over several ruts at speed. She felt Sean yank the handlebars to try and keep the bike steady. He was as blind as she was in the darkness.

  Natasha looked back at the helicopter and its powerful light beam. It was gaining ground quickly now, following the contours of the track. At that moment she almost lost her balance and she felt the bike swerve around a sharp bend before heading onto a tarmac road. As she watched the bright beam from the helicopter faded into the distance, still following the curve of the farm track. Soon she lost it altogether.

  For the second time in ten minutes she heaved a sigh of relief and offered up a prayer - until she realised the helicopter had turned back and was following the road towards them. She almost wept with despair. It was as if the men in the helicopter knew where they were headed before they did. How had they followed the bike?

  There was nowhere else to run. On either side of the tarmac stretched open fields. She tapped Sean on the shoulder again, but he knew the helicopter was catching up.

  ‘Hang on’ he shouted above the roar of the bike. She gripped him as tightly as she could. They went off the road, bouncing and flying, hitting the ground hard and then jolting up again, wheels spinning in the snow. Natasha glimpsed trees in the distance, the branches picked out in white. The engine revved and the bike bucked again.

  As soon as they entered the tree-line, Sean braked and stopped the bike. He made her get off quickly and without losing a second he led the bike by the handlebars into a dip in the earth, laying it on its side. He pulled his rucksack from the bike, undid the top straps quickly and started to shake out the contents.

  ‘Down!’ he ordered sharply. Natasha complied quickly, sitting down beside the bike.

  ‘Flat!’ he ordered, shaking out a silver blanket. He laid the blanket over the bike, holding the edges down with some nearby stones. Then he pulled it over her and quickly got under himself, tucking the edges in.

  Natasha felt the air whip up around the blanket. If this was his idea of keeping warm, it just wasn’t going to work.

  She heard the sound of the helicopter as it hovered overhead.

  ‘Grab a hold of the edge!’ commanded Sean.

  Natasha was not sure what he meant, until he demonstrated. Underneath the thin blanket Sean used his hands and feet to trap the edges. The motorbike lay between them, like a third unwanted guest. She just couldn’t understand why Sean wanted it covered it as well. Nevertheless she grabbed the edges of the blanket on her side and copied him, using her body to wedge a further length of the blanket down the side.

  The wind howled underneath, blowing in particles of snow which melted quickly over the hot engine. The blanket billowed up, threatening to blow away altogether. Natasha gripped it tighter, feeling its thin crinkly consistency. The texture reminded her of plastic kitchen foil.

  Then the sound of the helicopter blew all thoughts away. Like a thousand washing machines on spin cycle, it descended over them. She glanced over at Sean who appeared to be lying back calmly, still holding his side of the blanket in place.

  As the helicopter moved away the sound gradually diminished. Natasha waited, taking her lead from Sean. He continued to hold the blanket in place for several minutes after the helicopter had gone. In the relative peace she could hear the ticking of the motorbike engine as it cooled in the freezing air. She felt ridiculous, hiding under a blanket that gave no warmth. Her teeth chattered so violently she could hardly trust herself to speak.

  ‘Why are we doing this?’ she managed to say.

  ‘The helicopter is using thermal imagining to track us. The blanket is a thermal barrier to our heat sources - you, me and the bike.’

  ‘Sounds like the name of a film - you me and the bike’ she quipped. ‘Can we go - I’m freezing.’

  ‘Not just yet’ replied Sean. ‘They’ll be quartering the area for every heat signature. Our bike would show up as a big red blob, even at this distance. Let’s give them a minute.’

  Natasha concentrated on trying to relax so her teeth would stop their involuntary clicking sounds. ‘You sure know how to treat a girl. It’s Saturday night and here I am, lying in the ditch with you and a dirty great motorbike in between.’

  ‘Some girls in England would die for the chance’ replied Sean, deadpan.

  Natasha thought for a moment. ‘Do you have a girl in England?’

  ‘One or two.’

  ‘Is that one, or two?’ asked Natasha.

  ‘Time to move on’ said Sean.

  Chapter 29

  Dawn was breaking as Sean stopped the bike to view the lights of the town below. He saw a shopping mall that was still hours away from opening. Sean engaged gear and soon arrived in the car park. They dismounted and found a toilet where they could clean the worst of their mud-spattered clothes. Natasha spotted a motel off the main road and they pulled in.

  When they got off the bike they looked at each other, trying to decide who looked the most respectable. Both had grubby clothes and Natasha complained that her hair was a mess. Sean went to register without argument. The clerk didn’t look in the least bit curious – probably still sleepy from his overnight duty.

  ‘Coffee’s up.’

  Natasha opened one eye. She was warm under the duvet and resented being taken away from her dream. She closed the eye and snuggled deeper into the warmth.

  ‘Breakfast is going cold.’

  She opened both eyes. The guy would never shut up. ‘Hi’ she smiled at Sean.

  ‘Hi to you too, miss’ he replied. ‘Time to wake up and get busy.’

  She looked at the bottom of the bed where he had laid out some clothes.

  ‘I don’t know if they’ll fit, but it’s time to move on.’

  ‘What time is it?’ she said sleepily.

  ‘Quarter past eleven.’

  The me
mory of the lovely dream suddenly disappeared. ‘Oh my God, Cetus is due to catch up with the Kougar tomorrow!’

  ‘That’s why we need to get a move on.’

  Natasha shivered. She kicked off the duvet and went to examine the clothes he had brought. There was a pair of light coloured jeans (a size too small), a bra (a size too big), some panties and a large tea shirt and wind cheater. He had also bought some toothpaste and a toothbrush, but no makeup, no hair brush and no perfume.

  Natasha started to dress quickly. ‘What will have happened to Lomax and DD?’

  ‘They’ll be in custody. There’s nothing I can do for them now.’ Sean put the cup of coffee down on the bedside table.

  While she brushed her teeth she thought about the other things she would need. ‘I need a computer,’ she mumbled through the toothpaste.

  ‘There’s a store in the mall where I found your clothes.’

  ‘I need to see if DD’s account has trapped anything useful.’

  ‘OK, let’s go.’

  They crossed the road together. As they entered the mall Natasha’s hand brushed against Sean and they held hands. She looked at him but he was checking the car park and the people in the mall.

  In the computer shop she quickly spotted a laptop that had all the essentials she needed. She also picked up a small but fast inkjet printer and a ream of paper. She was about to pay for them when Sean interrupted. ‘Let me pay for them dear’ he said. Natasha looked at him oddly, but allowed him to pay with his credit card.

  On the way out Sean leaned over and whispered. ‘I think that’s how Schaeffer and his team traced you. On the way to your cabin you paid for the motel room with your credit card.’

  But Natasha was already thinking about the next steps. ‘Sean we have to find a hotel with an Internet connection.’

  ‘I know. We need to move anyway. From now on we stay in a new hotel every day. We’ll have to ditch the bike and get a hire car too.’

  ‘Fine, just so long as we are together.’ She saw Sean glance enquiringly at her.

  ‘It’s nice having you around...’. She struggled to finish the sentence, then decided she’d said too much already.

  As soon as they returned to the room she began to pack their few belongings. ‘Where to next?’ Natasha asked when the car details had been sorted out.

  She found out soon enough. They pulled into a place about two miles further on. As soon as they entered their room Natasha found the Internet socket and plugged in the laptop. Meanwhile Sean ordered room service and went for a shower. The food arrived just as Sean was drying his hair.

  ‘Food’s up!’ he announced, but Natasha was not taking any notice.

  He came over and stood behind her. She glanced up at last. ‘This is fantastic. Do you know, DD is a genius - a genius!’ she gasped in awe.

  ‘What have you got there?’ he asked.

  She showed him what she had retrieved from the account DD created. There were literally hundreds of emails, some containing attachments. Most were copies of outgoing emails from the Advanced Marine Agency. Some were marked confidential. Some contained a long trail of previous emails. Other emails had attachments containing indecipherable long strings of characters. ‘‘Key-stroke files’ breathed Natasha. The sheer volume of information was breathtaking.

  She opened several emails at random. Most were reports on progress of various operations. She found one email containing a history of other emails about the same topic - how ‘the target’ was to be followed and movement patterns monitored. Another had references to Natasha and options on how they might deal with this particular ‘problem’. She tapped the button to printout copies so that Sean could read them also. Half an hour later she began to arrange them in chronological order. For a time they quietly read through the sheaf of papers, passing interesting ones to each other.

  ‘As you say, DD did well’ commented Sean. ‘What we’ve got here are names, strategy, methods, and hired hands – everything except the name of the person at the top.’

  Sean collected the papers and sat back while Natasha searched the Internet for the companies and people mentioned in the emails. Eventually Natasha stopped and drew her hair back. ‘I found some emails from the accounts department of another company. It looks like Advanced Marine Agency is connected to American Submarine Industries. They produce the next generation of submarine for the government. Let me see..’ Natasha searched the Internet. ‘Right, here’s one. The last one they sold to the Defence department cost over a billion dollars! They have numerous contracts for the supply of surface ships too.’

  She searched through the paperwork. ‘It looks like they recruited a team early on with the aim of neutralising their main competitor – my company SeaTek. Wait,’ Natasha checked her figures. ‘We can produce fully automated submarines for a tenth of the cost!’

  Natasha skimmed through the papers, looking for one in particular. ‘I found one email about how they were going to cause the sub to destroy its support ships using a virus, though I haven’t found anything which tells us about how it was to be introduced.’

  She flicked through the papers again, stopping when she found the one she was searching for. ‘I have an email here which talks about Ben.’ Natasha’s voice became quieter. ‘They suspected Ben was on to something two months before he died.’

  Natasha pulled out a page. ‘This one says they knew I had found out about the sabotage when I reported my suspicions to Stan! How did they get this amount of detailed information?’ she asked Sean.

  ‘They might have your apartment bugged and don’t forget they had Langham working from the inside. What else do we know about American Submarine Industries?’

  Natasha searched the Internet. ‘It’s big - the second biggest defence contractor in the US. It’s headed by a guy called Dennis Clarke.’ She looked at Sean. ‘I wonder if this is the person we’re looking for?’ she asked doubtfully. ‘The company is so big, surely they couldn’t afford to get mixed up in sabotaging our sub - could they?’

  ‘Anything’s possible today’ said Sean. ‘You’ve only to look at the latest scandals in my country - the banking system, police, government, the press, even the church.’

  Natasha looked up at Sean. ‘My God’ she whispered. We’ve enough information here to bring them all to trial. Let’s just turn over the evidence to the authorities.’

  ‘We could’ replied Sean, ‘but the authorities have their own timetable. Don’t forget, we have another, more urgent schedule.’ Sean checked his watch. ‘They need to be stopped now.’

  ‘OK, suppose we leak the information to the media - surely that will get everyone’s attention?’

  ‘I’ve thought about that too. Believe me if it were that simple I would do it. My guess is there’s a very powerful figure in Washington controlling this operation. There’s a strong chance he would deny it and discredit those bringing the charges. It could be that name you just turned up – Dennis Clarke. It would make good newspaper headlines. But it wouldn’t necessarily stop the project, just make them cover their tracks better.’

  Sean thought it over some more. ‘There might be another way - supposing the American government are tipped off? I could ask HM Gov to raise it with your country’s administration.’

  Natasha agreed. ‘It would have to be at the very highest level. Anything short of your Prime Minister or Foreign Secretary and they might not give it the attention it needs.’

  ‘Excuse me while I shake a few trees.’

  Sean walked out of the room, looking for somewhere secluded to make the call. In truth he was sceptical that any of this would make a difference.

  Besides, he had already decided on a plan of attack.

  ‘Hi Robert, how’s the weather in Washington?’

  ‘Lousy, how’s yours?’

  The British Prime Minister pulled the heavy curtain aside. It was late evening and a light fog had descended on the capital, giving the street lights a halo effect.

  ‘Mise
rable.’ The PM could hear the famous chuckle on the other end of the line. ‘Well, enough about the weather. The reason I called is that something has cropped up. It appears that a couple of our agents have been picked up in your country.’

  ‘Were they working a case?’

  ‘They were checking something out. We think they upset the local police, but I have it on good authority no laws were broken. There was some local damage to a house where they were staying, but nobody was hurt. The damage will be made good, of course.’

  ‘Care to tell me about your investigation?’

  ‘Of course. One of our former nationals died in suspicious circumstances in a road accident. We sent someone to take a look.’

  ‘You don’t normally send your guys over to check out a hit and run, so why the interest?’

  ‘Robert, I’m wondering why you think the road accident was a hit and run. I never mentioned how the man died.’

  ‘Well I’m just guessing, is all. But why the interest?’

  ‘You might recall we spoke about an unfortunate incident last time - to do with the near sinking of HMS Astute.’

  ‘Ah, I do remember Terrance’ replied a testy President. ‘We’ve had problems getting the information you wanted. But all the indications are nothing untoward occurred. We’re treating it as an accident. Anyway, what’s the connection with your agents?’

  ‘They found out the man in the road accident was working on a secret project. That project involved testing a robotic submarine and we now know the submarine trials were a disaster. The submarine has gone rogue and we think it attacked our submarine HMS Astute. Since our last conversation I’ve been informed one of the men on-board died of radiation poisoning and two others are still on the critical list.’

  ‘I’m truly sorry to hear that Terrance’ said the President gravely. ‘But I’m afraid there’s no connection between any secret project we might be conducting and the problems sustained on your sub.’