Hunt nodded and jotted down a note in a small pad balanced on her knee.
'Our RV is a farmhouse in a large pine forest just over five miles east of Oban and for those of you without a detailed knowledge of Scotland, it has a tropical climate and year round sunshine so I hope that you've packed your Factor-15 and combat flip-flops.'
The group grunted at the humorous suggestion, already considering how much colder it was going to get the further north that they travelled.
'It should now be obvious why we spent so much time training to secure a farmhouse and out-buildings. As soon as we get there, I want the place wrapped up tighter than a gnat's arsehole, the Scammell will be stowed in the main barn and I want the Faraday tent put up over it as soon as, I don't want a signature leaking out from our pop-gun for some satellite to pick up.
'The Jackal has a cosy garage all to itself and we'll keep it out of the way unless things turn nasty. As for the perimeter, we have two sets of laser wires, one set just for the barn and another for the boundary. We get them set up as soon as we arrive regardless of whether Frosty the Snowman is doing his best to turn the place into the Arctic. Understood?'
The team all nodded in agreement.
'The farmhouse itself will act as our HQ and it has already been plentifully stocked, we just have some perishable goods to transfer to the Scammell. The oil tank is full and we've also got a big pile of wood and coal up there for a roaring open fire so we'll be well fed and just as importantly, kept nice and warm. The boiler kicks out plenty of hot water so we can keep our little bodies clean and get some laundry done - we've got all the mod cons!
'Captain Faber and I took a couple of runs up there a few weeks ago so we have plenty of supplies, we can be self sufficient for at least eight weeks as long as nobody pigs out on the chocolate. More importantly, you'll also be pleased to hear that we have plenty of toilet paper so no worries there.'
A wave of laughter rippled over the group.
'Now, onto serious stuff! As you've already seen, we have thirteen full equipment packs and spare combat gear, even some Government Issue skivvies should you need them. You will each be issued with an L85A2 assault rifle and four Heckler & Koch thirty round mags, we also have thirty frag grenades in total. Along with the Jackal, we have plenty of firepower should we need it, however, remember that our aim is to remain covert, we don't want to engage in a fire-fight unless it is our only option and even then it should be considered as a last resort to enable us to fall back. I don't want any negligent discharges or fucking around with live ammo, the success of this project is paramount and I will personally slot anybody that fucks it up.'
Loftus took a moment for the statement to sink in, eyeing the team to ensure that his words were taken seriously.
'That said, just remember that we are a bunch of squaddies on a training exercise, therefore the likelihood of anything going down is slim. If the shit hits the fan then we engage and retreat to our fall back position where we can expect an extraction - just like we trained for. I'll go through this on the map before we set off.'
'Just one thing,' Loftus suddenly said grinning, widely, 'since we're supposed to look like a military exercise firing blanks, I'll remind you that all of the rifles are fitted with a BFA, that's a blank firing adapter for the sieve heads among you. For fucks sake, remember to take off the BFA if we have to go to a live fire situation or you'll just as likely be performing a field lobotomy on your own head. Understood?'
The group nodded and a few mumbled an affirmation.
'Understood?' Loftus shouted.
'Yes Sergeant!' the team chorused.
'The locals up there see training exercises regularly and they might raise an eyebrow at a rifle without a BFA which is why we're using them, but they're unlikely to notice a live magazine. Having said that, it is extremely unlikely that we will encounter anybody up there, especially considering the weather, however, if you do come across any wandering hikers or sheep shaggers, remember, authority not aggression. Politely indicate that they are in a temporary military training zone and move them away.'
Loftus nodded to himself as he considered his next words.
'We've trained hard for this over the last few months and I am confident that you are all ready. Although you've all had military training of some sort, some of you have much greater field experience than others so support each other. In any event, remember that we are Brothers and Sisters in The Holy Order of Thrones and it is our job to do exactly this kind of task. The Seraphim and Cherubim rely on us. Our Order relies on us. We are on the front-line and everybody else is depending on us to do our duty. I know that Patrician Faber - Captain Faber - is very proud of what we have achieved so far and he has every confidence in us. Our mission will be a success if we make it so, so let's make it happen!'
A round of cheers rose up from the assembled group and a couple of the team members clapped as Loftus waved his hands again to calm them.
'Any questions?'
'Do we have a target yet Sergeant?'
'No, our target designation will be provided once we are in position as will the calibration settings.'
'Are we still set for the beginning of February?'
'My information is that we are still set for action for the first week of February. Unless we get a red light in the mean time, this is a go operation.'
Another hand was raised.
'What about our hitch-hiker?'
Loftus grinned.
'Good question Cohen. How is he?'
Private Cohen snorted a laugh.
'Stiff Sergeant, very stiff!'
'Alright, we take him with us and bury him at the farmhouse - he'll keep until then. I want him wrapped up though, I don't want him leaking everywhere on the way up. We'd better scrub down the HGV trailer as well, bleach it out just in case. Cohen, you can take care of that with Ramsey and we'll draw lots for the burial party once we're up there, he can wait until first light since it's below freezing up there anyway. At the very least the exertion will do you good and keep you warm!'
A few chuckles were exclaimed at the macabre necessity to dispose of the body of Karl Whelton.
'Any other questions?'
'When do we expect Captain Faber and Lieutenant Akosua to arrive?'
'I don't have a precise time but I am guessing within the next couple of days. It doesn't affect our mission objective but we will need to jiggle the duty roster a little bit. Once we're dug in I want two-man sentry teams patrolling the boundary at all times, two hours on and eight hours off. The drivers will take the last shift for the first rota. Any more questions?'
Loftus looked around at each face.
'Alright, get into your combat gear, get the vehicles checked and your equipment stowed, we leave in just over an hour so I suggest that we make good use of the time we have available to us. Once we set off we'll be travelling slowly so we can expect to arrive at the farmhouse between 18:00 and 20:00 this evening, depending on the weather and the condition of the roads. Let's go to it!'
Loftus clapped his hands and the group jumped up.
'Private Moore,' he called out above the clatter of movement, 'make sure that the second Land Rover is fully equipped for Captain Faber, he'll want to roll out as quickly as possible without having to fuck around.'
'Yes Sergeant!'
'Oh, and everybody, one more thing -'
The group paused and looked at him.
'You're squaddies now so you can eff and blind as much as you like!'
The entire team cheered and whooped as they started their final preparations.
Chapter XII
Crossroads
Bouncing about in the back of their van as it crossed the Haringvliet estuary of the Rhine-Meuse delta, Frans pressed the button to end his secure cell call with Senator Dru and coughed to clear his throat. They were rumbling across the sluices which provided a road connection between the island of Voorne in the north and the southern island of Goeree-Overflakkee. Soon en
ough, they would arrive at the Midden-Zeeland airfield near Arnemuiden.
The call had come through a few moments earlier to confirm that a Cessna 208 suitable for Rey and Akosua's parachute jump had been secured and had already been assigned a provisional take-off slot booked for 18:00 that evening, although the Senator had been slightly contrite in noting that an intermediate vehicle could not be secured for them within the time-frame and so they would have to use their own initiative in order to remain out of sight until their flight was ready.
'Good,' Akosua sighed, 'let's find a restaurant, I'm hungry and could do with something to eat if I'm going to jump out of a plane.'
Rey shook his head.
'No, the police will be looking for us let alone US Intelligence so we'll have to lay low until the last minute. I don't want to hang about in the south east of England either, we need to get up to Dumfries as soon as possible and catch up with the crew. Loftus knows what to do but I don't want to leave the team swinging in the wind for too long. We can get something from a petrol station once we're in England.'
Even as Akosua grimaced at the suggestion, Frans grinned benignly.
'Not to worry, we can get some fast food before we drop you off and you can eat here in the van. There is an intersection at one corner of the airfield and we can drop you off there. I know the place and there are some trees where you can sit down and relax and look at the estuary for a while, although it will be a little cold there is some nice scenery! From there it will be just a short walk round the corner and straight along the tarmac to Hangar #1, Bay #8. You will find your pilot and plane there - SP-JPS - you should be able to meet up with him by five o'clock so you will only have to lay low for a couple of hours or so.'
Frans then shrugged and looked apologetic.
'I would like to stay and keep you company, but I want to be on the way before our young friend here wakes up.'
Akosua looked down at Gertrude.
'I could give her another dose if you want?'
She reached into her pocket and withdrew an unused injection pen.
Frans shook his head but stretched over and took the pen from her anyway.
'No, it will be fine I am sure, she will still be groggy and I can strap her in but I'll take it just in case. We only have to get to Krefeld near Düsseldorf and it should take less than three hours.'
Akosua bent down to Gertrude, momentarily holding the back of her hand to the sleeping girl's forehead before placing a couple of fingers against her neck and feeling for a pulse beating within one of the carotid arteries.
'She's alright.'
'What about the DZ?' asked Rey, predominantly concerned with their extraction.
Frans grinned again, clapped his hands together and shook them as he spoke.
'Ah! Yes, they've organised a drop zone for a field near a little place called Stones Green about twelve kilometres east of a town called Colchester. Do you know it?'
Both Rey and Akosua nodded, recognising the name of the United Kingdom's oldest recorded town which laid claim to once being the provincial Roman capital of Britain. Deposed from it's role after being attacked and destroyed during Boudicca's rebellion in 61CE, it had subsequently been usurped as the capital by London and was now considered simply as a popular commuter town, surrounded by green fields and isolated copses beyond the borders of the comparatively restrained urban sprawl.
'They'll lay flares down and after the drop the plane will continue for a landing at a commercial airfield further inland. They wanted to give plenty of space between your landing and the plane's! You'll be met on the ground by some friendly faces and they'll have a car waiting for you, after that, you're on your own.'
'Alright, sounds good, I don't want to hang about,' said Rey as he turned to Akosua.
'We'll take it in shifts to drive and head north straight away. If all goes well we should be able to make it to the warehouse by around one o'clock tomorrow morning, even if we stop off halfway to get a bite to eat.'
'When will you catch up with your crew?' quizzed Frans.
Rey thought for a moment, considering the last stage of the journey.
'I'd guess that we might make it by four or five, depending on the weather, mind you I think we'll need to kip for the rest of the day after the journey we have ahead of us.'
'Yeah,' agreed Akosua vigorously, 'and I'll want a nice hot bath before I settle down!'
Jolene looked at her wristwatch, it was almost a quarter past one in the afternoon and she was keen to get some material off to Kappel but Dale's negatively biased appraisal of events kept turning over in her mind, gnawing at her and creating some considerable level of doubt. Of course, she knew that Kappel was no fool and he would undoubtedly already have visibility of intelligence which could possibly include some of the information that Jackson had summarised for them earlier, however, the more that she thought about it, the less likely it seemed that Jackson would be able to provide anything of any real value which could lead to their research being dismissed as irrelevant.
Dale's denouement that their report would be a waste of time kept coming back to her. By implication, it also meant that their investigation into the book was pointless - so why waste resources on a wild goose chase? Although she hated to admit it, he could just be right and that raised some very serious questions for her - very serious questions.
As the minute hand of his watch clicked over to a quarter-past seven in the morning in Langley, Virginia, Stefan Kappel eased back in his comfortably upholstered high-backed leather desk chair and suddenly felt very tired and rather worryingly, very old, even though he was still eight months off his sixtieth birthday. For the last couple of months he had been burdened as never before - there was nothing to compare to it during the previous four years he had spent as Deputy Director.
Even during his previous involvement in clandestine operations, when he had been implicated and indicted in a foreign court for his involvement in the promulgation of - admittedly - controversial interrogation techniques, he had always been able to justify his actions as for the greater good of the security of The United States of America. Just lately, he felt that he no longer knew which side was right and which side was wrong.
Stefan Kappel had solemnly undertaken his duty for the defence of his country, he had never faulted, even when his own sense of morality and justice brought him to question the necessity of the actions he had authorised and even supervised. In spite of all the good work he had accomplished in his career, people would always focus on the negative aspects, taking them out of context, using them as a foil to amplify their own sense of moral superiority.
He had been on the front-line, he knew the reality of the modern world, he understood what it really took to ensure that the US could remain safe and secure. The US Intelligence Services only needed to fail once to be vilified as insidiously imperial or berated as blunderingly incompetent. People had no understanding of what it was like to wade through the murky waters of international terrorism let alone stare into the abyss of global geopolitics.
His body was telling him that he needed to get some rest, but he forced himself to stay awake, to remain focussed, he had to stay at the helm at least for a little longer yet. Jolene Lovell was smart and she would figure out one thing or another soon enough, it was just a question of time. Until then, he had to watch and wait; he had to ensure that his plan of action succeeded. If he was caught, the consequences would be catastrophic for him.
Of course, he knew that he would inevitably lose his job and his pension, he'd almost certainly be indicted and there was even the slim chance of a prison sentence. In the worst case scenario, he could even pay with his life, but a senior executive of the CIA always had the insurance policy of 'knowledge'. An old figure of speech came to mind: 'Sometimes, it was useful to know where the bodies were buried!'
He had so far managed to hide his access to classified material that even as Deputy Director he was not supposed to see. He had even managed to convin
ce The President to contain the investigation into the threat that occupied his every waking hour notwithstanding the sleepless nights that it had recently given him. All of his actions for the last month or so had been engineered specifically so that he could progress his plan without arousing suspicion within the other intelligence services, however, time was running out.
He needed Jolene to discover for herself what he already knew but could not tell her, not just yet anyway, although the decision time was rapidly approaching for him.
Pieter van Riel replaced the receiver of his desk phone and scowled, muttering under his breath at the turn of events that had transpired. He had been minaciously warned off any further action concerning Gertrude Verker, rather, Chief Inspector Visser had dismissively explained that her abduction was no longer a concern of the Dutch police and had conveyed the official order in no uncertain terms and with a heavy reference to unspecified consequences.
Admittedly, he had acquiesced to understand Pieter's concern, even sympathising with him, but his instructions had clearly indicated that the matter was to be left in the hands of the Americans, an order that had originated at the very highest levels of Dutch government - no reasons, no explanations.
Pieter could not help but think that the situation was crazy. He had received a statement from an avid ornithologist who had been at the coast that very morning watching birds and who had witnessed a very odd event. Through his binoculars he had seen a van drive up next to a Volkswagen Golf parked near to the beach; some people had jumped out and proceeded to change the number plates on the car. It was most irregular and so the man had decided to report it. He had even provided the new registration numbers and although he would not swear to it, it seemed to him that a young red haired woman, possibly unconscious, was dragged from the car to the van and driven away. It was very suspicious.
Using the newly identified licence plate number, Pieter had managed to track the VW to the outskirts of the city although from that point, he had lost it; however, the most significant result was that he had also managed to track the van. Although the registration number had not been entirely decipherable even via the bird watcher's binoculars and the rather ambiguous description of the livery of the vehicle could have applied to any number of vans, Pieter had enough numbers and letters to be able to reduce the range of suspect vehicles.
Sun of the Sleepless Page 26
