Silent Warpath (Sean Quinlan Book 1)

by Dominic Conlon

  Sean took a last look around the small room. A bench ran along one wall, holding several close circuit monitors. A kettle and coffee percolator perched on a narrow table and Sean could see the remains of the men’s tea.

  Sean checked the monitors. Each showed a part of the grounds. While he watched the pictures changed to show another view. Every ten seconds a different view was shown and after a minute the cycle began again. Sean stayed to watch through two cycles, then left for the main house.

  Ten seconds afterwards the silhouette of Lomax appeared on one of the screens.

  Sean walked around the house, keeping close to the outside wall. He found two windows open, one in the kitchen and another in the dining room. No lights were on and none of the curtains were drawn. Sean confirmed that the outside doors were locked. He assumed that with three guards, two dogs and a closed circuit surveillance system the owner felt he was secure enough.

  Well he was about to get a big surprise.

  Sean went to the walled garden to fetch a wheelbarrow he had spotted earlier. He parked it underneath the open kitchen window, then put on a pair of surgical gloves from the rucksack. Standing on the barrow he was able to reach in through the fan light and open the bigger window below. He pushed the rucksack through, then climbed in.

  He listened carefully before shutting the main window, leaving the fan light just as it was.

  He slung the rucksack over one shoulder and set off to explore the ground floor rooms. To the left was an elegant dining room with places set for six people. There was a downstairs toilet off a large hall way and another reception room. The last room he entered appeared to be the office. A solid oak table stood in front of a large bay window. There was a green leather settee with carefully scattered cushions. A man stood waiting, holding a double barrelled shotgun trained on Sean.

  Even though he wore a dressing gown, the man was obviously a figure of authority. He had distinguished features and silver grey hair. And he knew how to hold a shotgun, Sean thought. The stock was tucked into his shoulder, the safety catch was off and his finger lay gently across the trigger.

  ‘Who are you?’ asked the man in a quiet voice. He appeared unafraid.

  Sean recognised Dennis Clarke from a photo Lomax had shown him earlier. ‘I’ve come to talk about the Cetus project.’

  ‘So, you’re not a common burglar, come to steal my money?’

  Sean shook his head. ‘No, not your money.’

  ‘How do I know that? You could be a common burglar I found in my house and I am a responsible householder. I could be forced to shoot you.’

  ‘No’ said Sean again. ‘Not with the evidence I have about your involvement in the project - evidence that will survive my death.’

  ‘You want to trade your life for some sort of media scoop?’ the man responded sarcastically.

  ‘No, I want to trade your life against stopping more deaths.’

  The man thought for a few seconds, then indicated with the gun that Sean should sit. The man sat opposite, keeping the gun trained on Sean all the time.

  ‘Who are you?’ the man asked.

  ‘An interested third party. Names aren’t relevant, but rest assured I represent a significant player who is determined to get what they want.’

  ‘Even if I were to kill you now?’ The man raised the shotgun slightly.

  Sean shook his head. ‘Do that and your world will fall apart. You will have every law enforcement agency crawling over you and your business companies for the next five years. They’ll put you away permanently.’

  ‘You’re not leaving me with any options.’ The man placed his finger gently back on the trigger.

  ‘I’m leaving you with one option’ said Sean. ‘I’ve come for information – not for you. You tell me what I want to know and you’re free to go.’

  ‘How do I know you haven’t got a swat team waiting outside?’

  ‘Look for yourself’. Sean gestured towards the window.

  The man’s gaze didn’t waver for a second.

  ‘Look, we know about your plan to discredit SeaTek. You engineered a virus that sent that experimental sub on a rampage. You hoped the Department of Defence would quietly drop their plans for Cetus and come running straight back into your arms.’ Sean’s eyes were fixed on the man’s trigger finger. ‘You thought the DOD would come back to the only supplier they could depend on. Your contracts would be safe into the next century.’

  Was there a slight relaxation in the posture? Sean saw the finger move away from the trigger. ‘We just need to know how to stop it’ he said softly.

  Slowly, the man twisted the hand holding the barrel, bringing the watch on his wrist into view. He quickly glanced at it before returning his steady gaze back to Sean.

  ‘If I tell you how, you turn around and get the hell out. I need an hour.’

  ‘That’s fine by me. You tell me and I walk out.’

  The man waited a moment. ‘I’ll tell you after I’ve...’.

  There was a sound from behind Sean.

  ‘I see you brought company.’ Clarke raised the gun and squeezed the trigger.

  Chapter 31

  In the same fraction of time Sean was already moving, tipping backwards over the chair. Aware of a hot blast of metal as he arched back, he felt a sharp tug to his side as the pellets tore through flesh. He executed a roll even before hitting the ground and used the oak desk for cover.

  Adrenaline pumped into his blood stream. The overturned chair lay on its side. Sean grabbed the broken end of one leg and jet-crawled to the other side of the desk. He could sense Clarke before his foot slid into view, encased in a beautiful blue leather slipper. Sean rolled again and brought the wooden stake down in a savage jab to the man’s leg.

  Clarke swung the gun around in an arc and trained it on Sean. The trigger finger tightened once more. A brief thought flashed through Sean’s mind. Kelly, his pupil. She was once in the same position, but then she had Sean looking after her.

  Sean stared up into the black hole of the barrel, knowing he was looking death in the face.

  He heard the sound of a shot and was puzzled by the absence of a flash from the mouth of the barrel. Clarke sagged, then dropped to the ground.

  ‘Careful’ shouted Lomax. ‘It’s me, Lomax.’

  Slowly Sean got to his feet. He held his side and approached the man on the floor. Then the pain hit and Sean staggered. When he looked down, he could see blood oozing out between his fingers. ‘Jesus, Lomax. What are you doing here?’ He held onto the desk as Lomax approached.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I’ll be OK’ Sean said through gritted teeth. ‘What are you doing here?’ he repeated.

  ‘Change of plan’, said Lomax. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’

  Privately, Sean was fuming. He detested these late changes in plans, no doubt initiated by London. Lomax may have saved his life, but the mission was his. And he detested the interruption from the director in the field, even though his life had probably been spared by the interruption.

  Sean waved Lomax on ahead while he hunted round the kitchen for some kind of rag to staunch the bleeding. He found a tea towel in a drawer, made it into a pad and wedged it underneath his shirt. Slowly and painfully he came back to the office, surveying the mess. The whole thing didn’t feel right. Why had Lomax followed him in and killed Clarke - only Clarke had the knowledge about how to stop Cetus.

  Sean looked at the paintings on the wall. When the police or FBI came to investigate, domestic burglary would be top of their list. Conceivably they might treat it as a politically motivated murder because of Clarke’s powerful status in the industry. In Sean’s view it was worthwhile to tip the odds in favour of burglary.

  As he examined what lay behind each of the three pictures, he could hear police sirens in the distance. The picture nearest the desk contained a small wall safe. Sean did not have time to use an electronic lock pick and he knew it was beyond his own skills as a safe breaker.

/>   He found a small plastic box in the rucksack, opened it and carefully lined the door and lock with what looked like plastic putty. Inserting a small metal cylinder into the putty, he attached the wires to a switch and battery. He moved to one side of the safe and stood with his back flat to the wall before pressing the switch.

  There was a sharp bang and some smoke. Sean looked at the safe and took hold of the handle - he was able to swing the door open without difficulty. Inside there was an automatic on top of a small metal box. There was nothing else in the safe. Sean took the box and stuffed it quickly into the rucksack.

  The sound of the police sirens grew louder.

  Lomax shuffled as fast as he could across the lawn. He was mulling over what explanation he should give Sean, and failed to notice a looming black shape between the trees. As soon as he entered the tree line, the Doberman went for his throat.

  Before Lomax knew what was happening he was down on the floor, struggling with the biggest dog he had ever seen. The collar of the protective suit he was wearing was strong and the dog failed to get its teeth around his throat properly. Even so, Lomax felt his breath being squeezed out of him. He put both of his hands around the neck of the dog and started to strangle it. It made no difference - the dog wouldn’t let go. Next, Lomax used stiff fingers to jab and poke its eyes out. The dog simply closed both eyelids, moved to the side to avoid further attacks and started to yank on his throat. Lomax felt the approaching blackness of unconsciousness.

  He heard a thud before starting to drift away. Then someone was shaking his shoulder roughly. Lomax opened his eyes and recognised Sean.

  ‘Come on’ Sean said in a whisper.

  'The dog?’ croaked Lomax.

  ‘Taken care of.’ Sean helped Lomax to his feet as the first of the police cars swept into the drive. They hobbled to the fence under the protection of the trees, Sean holding Lomax with one arm under his shoulder.

  Sean went over the fence first with difficulty. When he stretched over the top to help Lomax clamber up, the pain in his side flared.

  Sean almost threw Lomax into the passenger seat, then collected up the stool Lomax had used to get over the fence. He drove slowly to the telegraph pole. He got out and yanked the thin rope attached to the listening equipment, packing it all away into the rucksack.

  Quietly and carefully, Sean pulled onto the road and drove away.

  Natasha heard a loud knocking at the door. She rose quickly and looked through the spy hole. She saw Sean supporting Lomax and she opened the door quickly.

  Sean lowered Lomax onto the settee. There was blood all down the front of his overalls. She noticed that Sean was also hurt, but was not immediately able to see where his wounds were.

  ‘Bandages, I need bandages and water’ said Sean tersely.

  ‘Right away’. Natasha leapt to the kitchen and put the kettle on. She brought out some unopened bottles of water from the fridge and found some kitchen towels. She thrust them into Sean’s hands. ‘I’ll get you some cloths - take the kitchen towels and do what you can with them for now.’

  While Sean was busy she went back to the wardrobe where she had seen some spare bed sheets. Using a kitchen knife she started ripping it up into strips. She poured out some hot water into a bowl and took the water and bandages to Sean. Lomax was laid out on the settee looking very pale.

  Sean grabbed the cloths and began to wrap them around Lomax’s neck wound. The blood soaked through immediately. Sean wound another and then another. Natasha helped to raise Lomax up onto pillows and the blood flow reduced. She brought some more pillows in and together they arranged them under Lomax’s head and feet. Sean took out his mobile and called for the doctor.

  Natasha noticed that Sean wasn’t too steady on his feet either and she made him sit down on a chair. She saw the blood stains on his pullover and slowly eased it off. His tea shirt was badly stained and she helped take it off too. She used a wet cloth to remove the worst of the blood which revealed a wound in his side. It wasn’t very deep but Natasha worried how the doctor would treat it. The channel was too wide to stitch the sides together.

  As she pressed a clean dry pad over it, she heard a knock. She looked up to Sean. He removed a gun and nodded. Looking through the spy hole, she saw a man carrying a doctor’s bag and felt relieved. He hurried in, not stopping to say a word.

  Within a short space of time the doctor had examined Lomax and given him a pain killing injection. He cleaned the neck wound with sterilised wipes and applied a lint pad and bandage from his own supply. He looked at Sean’s wound next and shook some white powder onto it. He then applied lint gauze which was held in place by a bandage stretching around his midriff and over his shoulder to keep it from slipping.

  As he worked the doctor muttered to himself all the time. For once Sean didn’t appear to mind his grumblings. After issuing stern warnings to Sean not to get into trouble again, the doctor left.

  Natasha’s mobile sounded and she found it in her bag. ‘Mike? Oh, that’s fantastic!’

  Natasha noticed Sean listening intently.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that. But at least he’s OK now. Where did you say?’ Natasha paused. ‘Let me write that down.’ She fished in her bag for a pen and paper, sat at the table and began to write. ‘South Miami hospital in Miami.’

  Natasha wrote out the address. ‘Oh God, how is he?’ she asked. She listened a while and then looked up encouragingly at Sean. Covering the mouthpiece, she spoke quietly. ‘Mike’s telling me about one of the survivors from the sea trials. His name is Louis and he’s the chief software architect for the project. The rescue ship flew him to Miami hospital for specialist treatment.’

  She listened again for a minute and ended the call. Collecting her thoughts, she turned to Sean.

  ‘Right, the call was about Louis Deverell. He was on the original sea trials and was rescued about 24 hours after their ship sunk. He suffered badly from exposure and went into a coma shortly after reaching the hospital. But he’s doing well now. He designed most of the communications systems on board the Cetus.’

  ‘Who is Mike?’

  ‘One of the techies I worked with. He and Louis were close friends. When Louis was admitted to hospital they couldn’t find any identification on him, except for his phone. It wasn’t working properly, but they were able to see his contacts once it had dried out.’

  Sean looked thoughtful. ‘We need him. Can he be discharged?’

  ‘They didn’t say, but we could find out.’

  ‘Right. Talk to your NSA contact and have him flown up straight away - if necessary by ambulance helicopter.’ Sean looked at his watch. ‘We’ve three hours left until the deadline. Oh, and by the way, ask the NSA to hustle DD out of police custody. We might need him too.’

  ‘Can I introduce you to Gene Santer - my contact with the NSA?’

  ‘Pleased to meet you Gene.’ Sean shook hands. The man was short with dark hair and wore a razor thin moustache. ‘May I ask why we’re here?’ Sean indicated the huge white hanger they were standing in.

  ‘Otis air base? We needed a place to meet. And a jumping off point for the Barents sea.’

  Sean looked around. ‘Will we be meeting Mr Deverell?’

  ‘Yes, he landed ten minutes ago.’

  ‘And my colleague DD?’

  ‘Come with me.’ The man certainly didn’t want to lose any time, thought Sean. Though with barely an hour to go to the deadline he felt it was all too little and far too late.

  A little way ahead, Sean saw Natasha run towards DD. She folded her arms around him like a long lost relative, kissing him several times on the cheek.

  Lucky kid, thought Sean as he went to meet him.

  Shambling towards the group was a bear-like figure, assisted by a man in a blue overall. Santer turned. ‘May I introduce Louis Deverell.’ He named everyone in the group: Natasha, Lomax, DD, Sean. Amongst the general reunion, Sean found himself in front of Natasha.

  Sean reached for her hand and h
eld it briefly in his. A movement caught his eye and he saw Louis lumbering over. He couldn’t help but notice what he was wearing on his wrist. ‘Nice timepiece.’

  ‘You could say’ said Louis. ‘It’s still going after being immersed in Atlantic sea water for God knows how long.’ He turned to Natasha and gave her a big hug, before turning to the rest of the group. ‘Which is more than you can say for me’ he growled.

  Natasha pinched his cheek. ‘Don’t be so ungrateful, you old fogey.’

  ‘So – we know who has taken over the sub, we know where it’s gone and we know what it’s going to do when it gets there. Is there anything else I should add to this bloody crock of shit?’

  Louis certainly knew how to break the ice. ‘You forgot one thing’ Sean replied. ‘We don’t know how to stop it, even if we can find it.’

  ‘And you’re expecting me to tell you, I suppose?’

  Sean grinned. ‘That’s about the size of it. Any ideas?’

  Louis shook his head.

  ‘You do realise it may already be too late?’ said Sean. ‘The deadline’s in an hour.’

  Lomax took Sean to one side. ‘There’s been no report of a confrontation so far – and we would know. The Russians have been informed and the first thing they would do is complain to the Yanks if anyone attacked their boat.’ Lomax glanced at the group to ensure no-one could overhear. ‘What they did say was that if any of their naval vessels were attacked, they would take that as an act of war.’

  ‘Bloody hell’, said Sean in a subdued voice. ‘Even after it has been explained that Cetus is out of control?’

  Lomax looked sombre and gave a slight inclination of the head.

  ‘So what’s the plan now?’

  ‘We’re flying out to the Carl Vincent carrier group and then on to the task force that are trying to locate Cetus. They’ve been hunting the sub for the last couple of weeks. Two days ago one of their submarines had a near miss. We passed on the location data that DD found and they’re regrouping in the Barents. The carrier group have been ordered to join them.’