Incursion (A James Shaw Mission Book 1)

by Richard Turner

  Shaw couldn’t believe how strong the creature was. It had thrown him as if were nothing more than a child’s rag doll. Seeing it get up onto its feet, Shaw turned over and scrambled back up onto his.

  With a loud hiss, the imposter strode towards Shaw. Pulling back with its right arm, the imposter sent it flying into Shaw’s face. Reeling back on his feet, bright red blood splattered the snow. Shaw struggled to remain standing. He was certain that his nose was broken. A second later, the imposter hissed loudly and then struck him again with a powerful blow to the side of his head. Instantly, Shaw’s feet gave out from under him as his vision blurred. Shaw could feel himself losing his hold on consciousness. He was seconds away from blacking out. He had to do something or he was going to die.

  Reaching down, the imposter grabbed Shaw by his parka and then hauled him up onto his feet. Hauling back with its hand, the imposter intended to shatter Shaw’s nose cartilage into his brain, ending the fight, when suddenly Shaw shot a thumb deep into the imposter’s right eye.

  With a loud cry of pain, the imposter let go of Shaw and reached up for its wounded eye. Blood poured from the damaged eye socket down the creature’s face. Staggering back on its feet, the imposter’s heart burned with rage and anger. It had had enough. Turning back to face Shaw, the imposter strode over and kicked him as hard as he could in the chest. Shaw flew backwards into the snow; white-hot pain from a broken rib erupted in his chest. Bending down, the enraged imposter picked Shaw up and then wrapped its right hand around Shaw’s throat and began to squeeze.

  The sound of a submachine gun firing into the air made the imposter stop what it was doing and turn its head.

  Standing on two wobbly feet was Bruce; in his hands was Anna’s submachine gun.

  Taking a deep breath to clear his dizzy head, Bruce swore. There were two Captain Shaw standing in front of him. Blinking his eyes a couple of times to clear the image, Bruce realized that he really was looking at two exact duplicates of the same man. Swearing to himself, Bruce aimed the weapon at the two men. “Well this really is a conundrum now isn’t it? Be a pair of good gentlemen and move a few feet away from one another, or I will shoot both of you.”

  Both men trudged a couple of yards away from the other.

  Bruce looked over at the two men and bit his lip. They truly were indistinguishable. Both men looked as if they had been beaten to a pulp by a drunken rugby team. The cuts to the face, the ripped and torn clothing was identical. Under his gloves, his hands began to sweat. He was scared, but more than that he was terrified of killing the wrong man.

  “Come on Duncan, it’s me Jim. He’s the bloody imposter. Surely, you can tell the difference between us,” said the right hand Shaw pointing at the other.

  “Well you do sound like him. I’ll give you that,” replied Bruce.

  “Duncan don’t fall for that crap. You’re smarter than that,” said the left hand Shaw.

  “Bloody hell, you sound like him to.”

  The right hand Shaw, seeing the look of hesitation in Bruce’s eyes, took a step forward.

  “Don’t move sir, or I swear to God, I’ll kill you both,” warned Bruce. “I may be a lousy shot but even from this range; I’ll take yer head clean off.”

  “Fair enough Duncan,” said the right hand Shaw stepping back. “Look we’ve only got seconds. You have to kill the imposter before he gets away.”

  “He’s right. You cannot let it get away,’ said the left hand Shaw.

  “Bloody hell,” muttered Bruce. He didn’t want to open fire, but he also couldn’t risk letting the imposter get away either.

  “Listen to me, I’m the real James Shaw,” said the right hand Shaw. “Would the imposter know that your favorite team is the Rangers?”

  Bruce was becoming more confused by the second. “I know that it can read my mind, so yes you would know that.”

  “This is all a waste of time. If I’m going to die, then all I can say is that the Rangers can jog off,” said the left hand Shaw, flashing the two-fingered salute at Bruce.

  “Oy, that’s not very nice,” said Bruce as he pulled back on the trigger of the submachine gun. Bullets tore through the air. Holding the trigger until the magazine was empty. Bruce stared over at the right hand Shaw as he dropped to his knees with a bloody hole blasted through his left eye. For a moment, Bruce feared that he had shot the wrong man. With a disbelieving look on his face, Shaw turned into the imposter. With a weak hiss, the imposter fell face-first into the snow, dead.

  “Thank God for that,” said Bruce. A second later, he dropped his weapon to the ground, turned on his heels and vomited. It was all too much for him. He had never killed a man in his life; even if it wasn’t human, Bruce still felt the guilt and shame from taking another life.

  Placing his hand on his friend’s back, Shaw said, “You did the right thing. It was him or me, and I’m happy that you made the right decision.”

  Wiping the spittle from his face, Bruce stood up. “I wasn’t really sure it was him even after you insulted the Rangers. I made a snap decision and thank God that it was the right one.”

  “Come on let’s see to Anna and get the hell out of here. I suspect that by nightfall, the valley will be crawling with Germans.”

  Bruce nodded his head and walked over to check on Anna while Shaw took one last look at their foe. Bending down on one knee, Shaw was about to inspect the remains when the top of the hill suddenly lit up in a blinding white light. Bringing his hand up to his eyes to block the light, Shaw looked up and saw a large dark-gray (almost black) disc hovering silently over the top of the clearing.

  Suddenly, a bright orange light shot down from the craft, illuminating the area around Shaw and the dead pilot.

  Deep in his chest, Shaw could feel an almost electric sensation as the light bathed the ground around him. He wasn’t afraid; in fact, he felt at peace while the light shone down on him. In a flash, the light disappeared as did the body of the pilot. Lowering his hand, Shaw could see that the craft was at least two hundred yards in diameter. There were no lights, windows or any means of propulsion visible to Shaw. Like the crashed ball, this was a craft unlike anything he had ever seen in his life. Shaw was about to say something to Bruce when the craft shot straight up into the sky. Within seconds, it vanished up into the clouds without ever making a sound.

  “Let me guess them fellows back in England would call that another German airplane,” said Bruce as he bent down to help Anna to sit up.

  “Yeah, they undoubtedly would,” said Shaw, knowing that it was a lie that would be used countless times in the future to explain away things people would report sighting all over Europe.

  “What happened?” Anna asked, bringing a hand to her aching head.

  “Our friend is dead and we have to get moving before we end up back in the hands of the SS,” said Shaw, helping Bruce get Anna up on her feet.

  Checking her head with her hand, she felt the beginnings of an egg-sized bump growing on her forehead. She knew in short order that she would have a splitting headache. Looking over at Bruce and Shaw, both men looked as rough as she felt.

  “Do you have any contacts left in this area that can help us evade the Nazis and get us out of the country?” Shaw asked Anna.

  “Of course I do. My grandparents’ home is about ten miles up the valley. We can hide out there until the Germans give up poking their noses around. After that, I have my ways. Trust me I’ll get you home safe and sound.”

  “I do like the sound of that,” said Bruce.

  Helping Anna back onto her horse, Shaw and Bruce walked silently down the narrow path as it made its way into the snow-covered valley. Both were too tired to know or care that their lives had altered forever in ways that wouldn’t be apparent to either man for some time to come.

  HHHH

  39

  Bar End – England

  March 17th, 1942

  The grandfather clock in the corner chimed that it was nine in the evening. Standing up to str
etch out his tired frame, Shaw looked over at the clock and gave it an accusatory stare as if it were the clock’s fault that he and Bruce had been sitting idle in the side room for over two hours. They had been at Bag End for the better part of a week, shuttled from one room to another, being asked the same barrage of questions by people who liked to refer to themselves as specialists of this or that. After the first day, Shaw was ready to climb the walls. Bruce, however, seemed to take it all in stride. Shaw suspected that the food and the numerous women working at the secret installation had a lot to do with his overly cooperative mood.

  The return trip to England had been long but uneventful. After hiding out in Anna’s grandparents’ home for several weeks, they were moved from one resistance safe house to another up and down the coast of Norway until it was deemed safe enough for them to be picked up by the Royal Navy. No matter what Shaw and Bruce said, Anna could not be dissuaded from staying in Norway. It was her country and her fight, and that’s all there was to it. On a cold, rain-filled night, Shaw and Bruce left Norway wondering if they would ever see or hear from Anna again.

  Just when Shaw was about to lose his composure and go in search of someone in authority, a red-capped British MP opened the door and firmly asked Shaw and Bruce to follow him.

  At this time of the night, Bag End was quiet. Aside from a couple of MPs and a young duty officer preparing for the night shift, the place almost seemed abandoned. After a week, Shaw had become quite familiar with the layout of the old manor house.

  With a respectful knock on Professor Hill’s door, the MP opened the door, ushered Shaw and Bruce inside and then took up his post outside of the door.

  “Come in gentlemen, please do come in,” said Hill with a warm smile on his round face.

  Shaw and Bruce took seats facing Hill’s desk.

  “Tea, gentlemen?”

  Neither man accepted as they had been drinking tea and coffee all day long and neither could stomach the idea of another hot beverage.

  “Well then, how about a glass of sherry?”

  “Sounds great sir,” sang out Bruce quite enthusiastically.

  “Captain Shaw?” asked Hill as he shuffled over in his worn slippers to a side table covered in liquor bottles.

  “None for me thanks.”

  Shaw saw that Hill was wearing the same ruffled clothes that he had been wearing for days. His hair was askew, and his thick glasses hung low on a thin metal chain around his neck. He looked more like a clichéd academic from a really bad Hollywood production than the man behind one of the allies’ key intelligence agencies.

  After handing Bruce his glass of sherry, Hill took a seat behind his desk. “Have the staff been treating you two gentlemen good enough? Not too many silly and redundant questions I hope.”

  “No sir, things have been fine,” replied Shaw, lying through his teeth.

  Placing his glasses upon his bulbous nose, Hill opened a file folder on his desk and mumbled to himself while he quickly skimmed over the document.

  Looking about the room, Shaw said, “Where are the bookends?”

  “Pardon?” said Hill, looking up at Shaw.

  “The two colonels, I had expected them both to be here tonight.”

  “Bookends…good one,” said Hill, chuckling to himself. “They left earlier in the day to brief their respective headquarters on the findings in your report.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t have us locked away in an asylum for what I wrote.”

  “Good Lord no, it was only a matter of time.”

  “Until what?”

  Hill removed his glasses from his face and leant forward in his chair; the expression on his face turned serious. “It was only a matter of time until we gathered enough irrefutable intelligence that our planet is being visited by extra-terrestrial beings.”

  “Now that you have your proof sir, what are you going to do about it?” said Bruce as he reach for his glass of sherry.

  “Nothing,” replied Hill, shaking his head from side to side.

  “Nothing,” repeated Shaw.

  “Gents, you both need to see the bigger picture. The Prime Minister spoke with General Eisenhower this afternoon, and both men have agreed that there is to be a complete news blackout on all stories relating to these unidentified craft. If the public got wind that these strange aircraft were flying in and out of our airspace at will, it would cause a panic. We have enough on our plate right now dealing with the Germans. The last thing the government needs is another problem to deal with.”

  “So I take it that it’s all being swept under the rug?” said Shaw.

  “In a manner of speaking, yes. I need not remind you gentlemen that you are both bound by the official secrets act of your respective nations. Not a word of what you have seen can ever be repeated outside the walls of his institution.”

  “That’s fine with me,” said Bruce, “I hope that’s the last time I ever have to deal with anything like that ever again. I liked my old life taking and analyzing photographs for the Royal Air Force. All this running around and being chased by things that want to eat you is not for me.”

  Shaw looked over at Bruce, shook his head and gave him a not-now look. Turning his attention back to Hill, Shaw said, “Sir, if we are going to remain silent for the rest of our lives, I can’t see the harm in letting us in on a few things.”

  “Such as?” said Hill, sitting back in his chair with his fingers crossed on his stomach.

  “For starters, what are the Germans reporting happened at their weather station?”

  “From radio intercepts and a well-placed agent deep within the German High Command, I can tell you that they have also hushed this whole incident up as well.”

  “What about the two men we left behind? Surely they survived?” Bruce asked.

  “According to my source, only one survived. The officer died of his wounds. The soldier was so traumatized by what he had seen that he had to be placed into a mental intuition. Trust me gentlemen, the Germans don’t want this getting out either. They are just as, if not more, interested in gathering what intelligence they can on these extra-terrestrial craft. You’ve seen what these things can do. Can you imagine a fleet of highly advanced craft in the hands of the Nazis? It would irrevocably tilt the balance of power in their favor. The war would be over in a matter of weeks.”

  “What about Anna, our contact?” asked Shaw.

  Hill smiled. Shaw may come across as a gruff individual, but deep down, he cared. “She’s working to build a brand new organization with a new resistance team leader whom we parachuted into Norway about the time you were picked up by the Royal Navy.”

  “That’s good news,” said Bruce. “I was kinda worried that she might have been picked up by the Germans. I doubt they took too kindly to the locals after what happened to their soldiers.”

  “Is there anything else you would like to discuss?” said Hill.

  Shaw looked over at Bruce. “Duncan, would you mind leaving Professor Hill and I alone for a couple of minutes?”

  “Not at all, I need to use the loo anyway. See you in the mess, Captain.” Standing, Bruce left the room.

  Shaw waited for the door to close. Turning his head, his gaze narrowed. “Now Mister Hill, I want to know the truth. You knew that it wasn’t a German airplane that had crashed in Norway, didn’t you?”

  Hill smiled. “You are correct, Captain. From the information that we received from the resistance, we suspected that it wasn’t German.”

  “Then why didn’t you tell us the truth?”

  “Security old boy. Think about it. If either of you had been captured before arriving at the crash site can you imagine what would have happened if under interrogation, you told the Germans that you were there to investigate the crash of a craft not of this world. As far as we knew at the time they were unaware of the craft, and we intended it to stay that way.”

  Shaw didn’t like the answer but couldn’t fault Hill’s reasoning. “What about the creature? Were
you aware of its existence prior to our deployment?”

  Hill shook his head. “Not at all, on that you have my word, Captain. Your report came as a bit of a shock to all of us here. A creature that can mask its identity and move seamlessly among people without being detected is a very frightening prospect.”

  “Now that you have your report, what happens to Duncan and I?”

  “Corporal Bruce will return to his old duties. As for you, Captain, you are on loan to this establishment until your army sees fit to assign you other duties. You’ve been through quite a harrowing experience. Why don’t you take a fortnight’s leave? Head down to London, see the sights, perhaps meet a nice young lady. Have some fun; clear your mind and then report back here refreshed and ready to dive right into your next assignment.”

  Shaw smiled. “I’ll take that leave only after the Corporal Bruce is also assigned to your organization. It’s a waste of resources to have him return to his old job. Also I’d like him promoted. He’s earned it.”

  Hill raised an eyebrow. “He’s hardly the kind of chap we look for in the SOE.”

  “Well then you need to broaden your criteria professor. He not only survived the ordeal in Norway, he also had the good sense not to kill me. He doesn’t think nor act like me. Trust me your organization needs men like him, and I need someone like him around me who can balance me out.”

  Hill looked admiringly over at Shaw. The man wasn’t afraid to speak his mind. Yes men don’t win wars. “Very well Captain, I will speak to Colonel Somerset about your request. I have no doubt that Corporal Bruce will be posted to this establishment before the sun sets tomorrow.”