by James Flynn
“Seona, I loved you like a daughter, but can you not see?” Sir Peter was pacing up and down in short strides.
“Why? We deserve that. Why all of this Peter?” Prussias felt disgusted at the man he once considered to be a brother.
“Why? You ask me why? Look around you, at this country, and this world. It is overrun with a parasite; a vermin that spreads fear and death, individuals that will sacrifice everything in the name of their faith and beliefs. They want the world to live in fear. It has to be stopped, Prussias, you have always known that, always! Then you want to turn your back and run with your money. I need that money, Prussias. I am fighting on all fronts to protect people, to protect you all. I am willing to kill those I love to show you, to punish you.”
“You son of a bitch!” Prussias spat the words.
Luke examined the room properly. Along the walls hung a mixture of old colonial maps and ugly oil paintings. A giant animal-skin rug lay across the floor and on the desk was a thin monitor which faced away from him. Next to it was a small grey box unit with various dials. Luke recognised it immediately as the matching unit to the voice distorter that he had found in the sublevel. This was the room where Sir Peter had communicated as Medea.
“I don’t understand any of this.” Seona’s head was thumping.
“I will tell you what it all means.” Prussias didn’t take his eyes off Sir Peter as he spoke. “He set this whole thing up, kidnapping me, and kidnapping you to frighten me into giving him more money, to apparently show me what these terrorists are capable of. You are sick, Peter. You would have killed Seona in front of me just so that I would provide you with the means to continue waging your personal war on the world. You disgust me, what have you become?”
Sir Peter looked shocked and hurt at the comments. “A personal war? I am fighting for all of us. Did you honestly think that you could just walk away? What you were helping with was a war that will find you; there is nowhere to hide from it. It threatens our very existence, our freedom. Is that worth sacrifices? Of course it is!”
“Like Viktor Struanz …” Seona spoke the words softly.
Her father reeled to face her, and then turned back to Sir Peter. He twitched with rage. “You will burn in hell, Peter!”
“I needed you back, Prussias. I had to give you a taste of what these people are capable of. You can help stop the plague …”
Luke had kept silent; Sir Peter had forgotten about the pistol and rested it on the desk mid-flow. He could see in Sir Peter’s eyes that he was a zealot, a man made crazy for his cause. Seona and Prussias’s world had been turned on its head, but they were alive.
Sir Peter now begged, “Prussias, please understand. Seona, my dear, I had to show your father that I am willing to sacrifice those I love, and I do love you, my dear.”
Seona shook her head; she didn’t recognise the man in front of her. A man who had claimed to want to protect her had destroyed everything. Her whole existence had been changed.
Prussias put his arm around Seona and ushered her out of the room. He gave Sir Peter a look but had no words left to say. As they reached the threshold, Prussias looked at Luke and spoke coldly. “Kill him.”
Sir Peter sagged as they left the room. He continued talking but Luke knew it was aimed at no one. “Have I gone too far? Moderation: the noblest gift of Heaven.” He wrestled with his thoughts. “No, I did what was necessary, and would have seen it through.”
Luke had seen men preparing for death, and he had to respect the old man’s nerve. Sir Peter knew it was the end, and he remained calm. Luke kept the muzzle trained on him in case he went for the gun. In fact, he walked in the opposite direction and stopped at a coat stand. He gently slipped on his jacket and, in so doing, looked smaller in stature.
Not a word passed between the two of them. Sir Peter straightened himself up and puffed out his chest. The spotlights were fighting their way through the curtains lighting up Sir Peter from behind. A noble warrior resigned to his fate, he gave a subtle nod. Luke brought the gun up and fired two rounds clean through his skull. Sir Peter twitched and collapsed onto the soft skin rug.
72.
Luke reached the large oak front doors on the ground level; every window along the front of the house was lit with bright light, and sharp beams seeped in from the ball bearing holes. Luke took a moment, his ankle was already swelling. His body was bruised and cut. Seona was safe, she would never be the same, but he had delivered on his mission.
The light became blinding. Through the light a wave of tension left his body, an end was in sight. And there she was, floating across the floor towards him; her voice was warm and comforting. Hi baby, it’s ok now, you don’t have to worry anymore. Luke stretched out his bloodied hand to touch her, for the briefest of moments he felt her touch and then she began moving back toward the light. Thank you baby.
Luke’s eyes opened and he was still in front of the door with the spotlight burning through, but in that moment he knew what he was, what he had become. Being alone was his nature, he was fully converted; it was not a jarring thought, it was a peaceful acceptance. He threw the MP5SD to the floor. Lifting his arms high above his head he leant against the door with his shoulder. Then the door opened and the madness flooded in.
***
Down on the floor now, do not move, lie flat on the floor now.
There were hundreds of special officers, riot police and standard blue uniforms scattered across Sir Peter’s front lawn; the driveway was blocked by patrol cars. A cordon of vans and cars were set up in parallel to the front of the house and the commands were being shouted through a loudspeaker system. Luke dropped to his knees, keeping his hands high above his head; he then let his body topple forward so that his torso hit the ground.
All units move in.
Luke heard the booted footsteps tearing across the lawn and stone. The first officer to him pressed hard down on his back with his knee. Do not move! Then Luke felt two sets of arms grip his armpits and he was dragged to his feet. He was then searched; strong cable ties were strapped to his ankles and handcuffs were tightly clamped around his wrists. Two men literally dragged him across the grass and made for a patrol car. To Luke’s left he saw an unmarked car door open and from inside sprang Seona. She was screaming and shouting that Luke had helped them, that he was not responsible. She was blocked by some officers who tried to calm her down. Their eyes met and Seona mouthed the words Thank you. Luke flashed a reassuring smile.
His head was pushed down as he was thrown into the back of a patrol car. The car smelt of strong pine air freshener and the seats were worn and old. He half-lay across the seats to find a point of comfort. Looking out of the window back toward the house, he saw two police officers remonstrating with a man in a suit. The suited man looked totally out of place amongst the uniforms and firearms officers. He seemed to be in a debate with the two officers over something; he had an arrogant air about him. After much debating, the suited man produced a piece of paper; the officer in charge snatched it and read it. He turned to his subordinate and reluctantly nodded. The subordinate headed toward the car, opened Luke’s rear passenger door and struggled to drag him out, dumping him face down on the grass. There you go, he’s yours.
Luke couldn’t see who was now dragging him across the grass as he was still facing the floor, but they were not hanging around. He heard the click of a lock; suddenly he was pulled upright and found himself staring at the rear doors of a plain white van. The men on either side were bulky, one had a rough moustache, and the other wore at least two-day-old stubble. The van door opened and he was thrown onto a ledge that constituted a seat. The van was pitch black, but Luke could sense other bodies around him.
The front cab door opened and closed, the van instantly chugged into life and began moving. It was inevitable that the powers that be would catch up with him, they would want him neutralised fast. It was the end and Luke felt completely at peace. A dull plastic-covered bulb lit up the rear of the van. Si
tting opposite Luke was the suited man who had been arguing with the police officers, Luke guessed he was not much older than forty; he had a strong side parting and a slight frame. Sitting on either side were two very different-looking individuals. Both men were wearing black jumpers and trousers, they had M4 rifles stood between their legs, their skin was rugged and stubble-covered. These were field agents, tough and rugged from years of overexposure to the elements. Luke wondered which one would deal the fatal shot.
“Well, well, Mr Temple. You certainly know how to cause a mess.” The suited man spoke with a strong cockney accent which didn’t fit his appearance. “Luckily, the boys and I here happen to be very good at cleaning up other people’s messes.”
Luke switched his eyes between the two men. The suited man subtly nodded his head and the man on his left removed a fierce-looking machete. Makes sense, thought Luke, a quiet kill would serve them better. The rugged agent took a step forward. Luke tensed his body and closed his eyes, shifting his mind elsewhere and waiting for the blow. But it never came, instead the pressure on his ankles slackened. He opened his eyes as the agent was re-taking his seat on the bench opposite. The cable ties had been cut away; Luke flexed his toes to regain some feeling.
“You are quite a mess; we will have to sort that out.” The suited man leant over as he spoke and produced a key. He slotted it into the handcuffs and twisted, and they gave way and dropped to the floor. “I have to say, Mr Temple, I am very intrigued as to quite how you managed all of this?”
Luke didn’t say a word.
“All in good time.” The suited man read Luke’s confusion. “Mr Temple, I understand that it must have been a very rough weekend for you. And I must say you have performed fantastically, we have been monitoring the situation closely. Quite extraordinary, really top notch stuff. I hope all this goes to show you that often the most dangerous enemy is the one within.” He adjusted his tie.
“Who are you?” Luke asked.
The suited man smiled. “The question isn’t so much who but more what.” He curled his hand under the wooden bench and produced a brown, string-bound folder. He threw it onto Luke’s lap.
“I want to offer you a job.”
The front of the folder was blank; Luke eyed the man before opening the cover. The inside page read Classification: Top Secret. Selected Personnel Only. Luke turned the page and his eyes were drawn immediately to the header line; he looked at the suited man in astonishment then read the line again: Group 9 Directive: Operation Priority Alpha. Deniability Absolute.
Luke looked back at the suited man. “But it was …”
The suited man smiled.
“Some things don’t die Mr Temple … they merely evolve.”
Epilogue
The October sun was descending sharply from the sky; it was bright but carried no heat. The crisp air whistled across the open expanse, unhindered on its progress. Birds sang in the few trees that stood in the grounds but they were the only sound. The graveyard was completely empty, loved ones had departed for the day, venturing to get home before the night chill set in. It was a small graveyard, nothing flash, a graveyard fit for a small community.
Seona’s heels clicked in rhythm as she strode down the uneven paving that provided the main artery for people to access the graves. She clasped a bouquet of lilies in one hand. She stopped at each row and eyed the names on the headstones. Like most people she couldn’t help but eye the dates on the stones, wanting to know how old the person was when they passed. She brushed away a blonde hair from her face, the old colour had returned but she had cut it into a dramatic bob, it had been strangely cathartic. The past few months had seemed like a lifetime to Seona. She had felt like the media attention would never die down; everybody wanted her story and ridiculous amounts of money had been offered.
For the first time in her life she had refused. She had no interest in selling her story, the pain was still deep. Not surprisingly, the true story had never emerged. It struck her suddenly that her father would be wondering where she was. Since the kidnapping he had spoken with her every day without fail and she had taken the decision to move back in with him. In truth, she wouldn’t have been able to get through it all without him. They had things left to work through, but they loved each other and that was all that mattered.
About halfway down the path Seona eyed a row of graves. There it was; the last one in the row. Heels had been a bad idea; she fought to keep her balance as the stilettos buried themselves in the grass. Finally, she reached the headstone; she paused not really knowing what to say. The headstone was black, but the tablet had a shimmer. Seona thought it was understated but beautiful. She extracted some wilted roses that were well and truly dead from the small stone vase built into the floor and replaced them with her lilies. She stood a moment and stared at the inscription:
Sarah Louise Rowland
10th April 1977 – 7th July 2005
Snatched from us so young
Your life brought light to everyone you knew
Your memory will burn bright forever
Sweet dreams
Seona didn’t need to say a thing; she closed her eyes and felt the wind against her cheeks. She smiled at the writing. Tightening her jacket around her body she tentatively made her way back to the path, turning for one final look, and then set off home, back to her father.
CHASING THE DAWN
This is a free sample extract from the next in the series of Luke Temple thrillers. Due for release in 2014
Copyright
The sole distribution and reproduction rights for this eBook sample reside with © James Flynn 2014 and © MP 2014, all rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this eBook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, decompiled or reverse engineered in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the author.
All the characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Prologue
Professor Ernesto Vittorio found himself breaking into a run as he rushed down the stone corridor. He often forgot that this place lay 1,400 metres below the earth’s surface; the array of cooling systems did nothing to stop beads of sweat running down his dark skin. As Vittorio’s steps echoed, his heart raced, his head spinning.
If he had not seen the readout with his own eyes he would never have believed it. It was the single most fascinating, not to mention baffling, discovery of his life. He needed to check for sure there had been no interference with the projection from CERN, 730 kilometres away.
He reached the entrance of Hall C and stopped a moment, catching his breath and gathering his thoughts. Then he stepped inside. The room was cavernous, and as predicted there were a swarm of scientists running around, their attention focused on what Vittorio still thought was one of the most beautiful man-made sights he had ever seen, the detector. It was actually a series of bricks consisting of nuclear emulsion photographic films interleaved with lead sheets, a refined masterpiece. Vittorio always took a smug joy in revealing the staggering statistics to visitors. The detector was split into two supermodules, which together weighed a staggering 1,300 tonnes and contained roughly 200,000 bricks arranged into parallel walls.
As Vittorio strode purposefully across the floor, Professor Roland Brun, his head technician and old friend, ran up to him. “Professor, professor, the bricks are all correct, there is nothing wrong.”
“Slow down, Roland, let’s not be hasty.” Vittorio rubbed his brow, his thick eyebrows creasing with his frown. “What about interference?”
“None, we have never had any, not down here.”
This far underground it was certainly unlikely. “And cali …”
“Calibration is all set and stable,” Professor Brun interrupted. “Ernesto, the result is accurate.”
<
br /> A moment of silence passed between them.
Brun spoke first. “Do you know what this means?”
Vittorio could only stare blankly at the giant apparatus in front of him; slowly he turned to his colleague and looked him dead in the eye. “It means we just changed the universe”.
1.
Six years later
Friday 9th November
The grey-haired man thanked the waitress a second time as he threw down a few Danish Kroner as a tip. His wife stood up and fixed her fox fur coat around her shoulders, checking that her perfectly coiffed hair was still safely secured in place. It was Friday night and every table within the restaurant was full with people chatting, laughing and eating. The smartly dressed pair threaded their way between the white and purple cloth-covered tables, nodding at waiters and waitresses as they passed. Upon reaching the entrance they stopped and readjusted their coats, preparing themselves for the rush of cold.
Luke Temple had placed himself at a short distance from the Ristorante La Perle, hailed as one of the finest dining establishments in the northern Danish city of Hillerod. He had kept eyes on the target for the entire meal. It had taken its usual couple of hours and he was fighting off the cold which was now eating away at his extremities. He pulled down his woollen hat and adjusted his gloves as his target emerged from the orange glow of the restaurant entrance with his wife.
It was the third Friday Luke had waited in position and he was more than happy to get moving as he checked 360 degrees, making sure no one was lurking in the shadows. His target walked briskly past the garden on Luke’s right, heading up the short lane toward the Ostergade main road. Luke let him walk several paces past the garden before shuffling quietly through the bushes. He could see the target and his wife striding out ahead; their breath was forming clouds as they spoke. He tucked in on the left side of the lane about thirty paces behind.
