Recovering Commando Box Set

by Finn Óg

  “Bring him to an interview room, please.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” he snapped, then turned and made off towards the cells.

  Two minutes later she saw the opso being led up a corridor, no cuffs, and turned into a room on the right.

  The lance corporal emerged, held the door and looked at Libby. “Ma’am,” he said.

  She walked towards him, convinced there would be an intervention at any moment. “Thank you,” she said. “I won’t be long.”

  “Do require additional presence?” he asked.

  “No, thank you,” she said. “If you could make sure I’m not disturbed, though,” she said.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” he said, and closed the door behind her.

  The appearance of DET operators meant Sam would have to tinker. Tinkering left uncertainties, gaps, openings, lines of investigation.

  The plan had been to leave a forensic trail that suggested to journalists that the killings had been part of some internal feud. He wanted to draw attention away from some rogue operative on the loose, and Sam calculated that the spooks, for convenience, would seize such a narrative and allow it to run. A feud as an explanation suited everyone. Paramilitaries were notorious for shooting their way out of arguments. How much better to make that case than to blow up a dissie with a dissie bomb like the one he held carefully in his hand?

  Sam sighed. He lamented the looming need to use it for purposes other than he’d intended.

  The superior stared at the red light flashing on his silent phone. Military. Not a particularly welcome interruption. He ignored it. Within a minute the light began flashing again. It was distracting. He ignored it and it stopped. The pause this time was shorter. When the red light began again he was half expecting it and whipped up the receiver.

  “What is it?” he barked.

  “Libby Green entered Palace Barracks twenty minutes ago.”

  “Oh?”

  “She was in a hire car from Belfast City Airport.”

  “She’s at Loughside?”

  “No, actually, she went to RMP. She’s in the custody suite.”

  “What?”

  “She is interviewing the operations officer from north DET, sir.”

  “What!” he yelled.

  “We have no jurisdiction to prevent—”

  “Why did you not tell me sooner?” he shouted.

  “We have been calling—”

  “Can we hear what they are saying?”

  “Well, yes, if you think that’s proper. We would need a—”

  “Don’t you dare tell me I need a warrant. Just get that conversation patched through to me right now!”

  There was a crash as the handset was dropped. The superior could hear orders being issued at the other end before the handset was scooped up again.

  “We think we may have to hold the phone up to a speaker.”

  “Fine. Just hurry up.”

  Eventually a faint conversation could be heard, in which a man and woman were talking in muted voices.

  “You need to warn him,” the opso said.

  “How?”

  “Well, now you know where he is, you need to go there and tell him to get offside for a long time, this time.”

  “Ok,” Libby could be heard. “Anything else?”

  “That drive needs destroyed.”

  “Already done.”

  “Is there anything else linking him?”

  “I’m the only one with the full picture. Without the drive, nobody’s gonna make the link easily.”

  The superior’s ear pressed hard into the receiver of his handset.

  “Ok, well, now you need to take care. They might be looking at you.”

  “What if he goes again? What if there are others?”

  “Inevitable.”

  “Really? Why is he so determined?”

  “I can’t tell you that, but his reasoning is good, Libby. I promise you that. One day I’ll explain everything, but not here, not in this place.”

  “Ok. Are you … are you going to be ok?”

  The superior could just make out a distant commotion. The conversation became more urgent and more hushed.

  “Libby, I didn’t set this up – I found out about it after it started. That’s the truth.”

  “I know. I believe you.”

  “Libby, you need to take care of yourself.”

  “So do you. You can’t take the fall for this – for any of it.”

  “Well, if you can get to him and …”

  The superior’s jaw muscles bulged as he ground his teeth in anger when he heard the door burst open. There were chairs grating backwards, shouts of unauthorised entry and the line rattled and banged.

  “What’s going on?” the superior yelled into the phone.

  “I thought you wanted the meeting to end?” said the man at the other end.

  “Not while they were fucking talking!” yelled the superior. “Morons!” He slammed down the phone.

  The screen on the heli remote-control panel came to life. Heat signatures – someone was moving.

  Sam strained to see what was happening but the heli in the copse was at ground level and aimed at where he guessed the Gillens might stand. He couldn’t see the dugout hiding the DET operatives, yet their movement was registering. He strained to understand what was going on.

  The glow on the left of his screen was green – warm but not hot. Sam gave the heli blades a little buzz to lift it a few inches and reframe its shot, touching the joystick gently and watching the image lift. The other joystick controlled the tail. He nudged it with his frozen forefinger, clumsily, and the screen began to spin. Panicking slightly to correct it, he attempted to bring the heli down to start again. His heart fell as he watched the screen tumble upside down. With his thumbs he tried both levers both ways but was rewarded only with a shake of the screen. The blades were evidently stuck in the ground, the heli upside down and useless.

  Not good, he thought, until it got worse. Inverted, he watched as a massive hand reached down and wrapped around the helicopter. The imagery became blurry as the device lifted and Sam was treated to a full facial of a man in a night mask, night-vision goggles and a thin balaclava.

  Libby knew she was in a convoy, even though she couldn’t see any vehicles behind or in front of her. They could well be overhead. She suspected that the military police had been ordered to place a lump on her hire car, but she didn’t care. For her it was all about genuine justice. To hell with her superior. To hell with allowing kids to be killed. To hell with the big picture, and to hell with letting an innocent, decent man take the fall for murders carried out by someone else.

  Libby’s main anger was directed at her boss – there was no way she wanted him to get his way. Screwing him over and getting the opso released went hand in glove. She had no intention of sacrificing the opso for his friend, this killing machine, this Sam Ireland. If anyone was to go down for the murders, it would be Ireland himself. And so Libby headed to the coast, to the place the opso said she was likely to find him. And then, when the right man went down, she reckoned the opso would be released, and her superior put out to pasture. For that reason she cared not one jot for the Gazelle she assumed was overhead. Bring it on, she thought. The more people present when I confront this dangerous fucker, the merrier.

  “Alpha team to control.”

  “Send, Alpha.”

  “Alpha to control. Can you confirm we have aerial eyes on, over?”

  “Control to Alpha, send again please, over.”

  “Control, do you have an aerial platform on location, over?”

  “Negative, Alpha. What is the nature of the inquiry?”

  The central operations officer was stirred from his slumber in the Lisburn DET control room. He pulled on his headset and listened.

  “Control, Alpha. I am holding a military-grade drone.”

  “Alpha, Control. Please confirm that you have discovered a drone on location?”

  “Affirmative.
Believe it to be a Black Hornet or similar.”

  The operations officer pressed his transmission button.

  “Alpha, this is command. Confirm please where the device was discovered.”

  “Command, Alpha. Approximately ten feet from location. Believe it fell from the sky in last three minutes. Over.”

  “Alpha, is the drone transmitting?”

  “Command, Alpha. Hard to say, but I’m familiar with these. They’re capable of sending medium-res imagery.”

  “Alpha, command. Disable immediately. Repeat, disable immediately.”

  “Understood.”

  Sam sat in his boat and watched the screen flicker and die.

  Well, that’s fucked that, he thought.

  The superior took a call he’d been expecting.

  “We have eyes on your staff as requested.”

  The superior bristled a little at the implication that his staff had gone rogue. Still, it was no time for point-scoring – he needed the DET to perform for him. It was time to tidy-up the whole disastrous mess.

  “Where is she?”

  “Driving along the coast of County Antrim curiously.”

  “I want to know who she’s going to meet.”

  “Well, it does seem there is someone with her.”

  “With her?”

  “In a car behind. Headed the same direction. She could be being followed.”

  “By you,” the superior said.

  “Well, yes, but remotely. We have her tracked and vis from above, but we wouldn’t put a car in an area as remote as that.”

  “Who’s in the car behind? Could it be the man we’re looking for?”

  “Negative,” said the DET commander.

  “How do you know?”

  “The person behind is a woman.”

  “You can tell in the dark?”

  “We can.”

  “Well, have you checked the plates of the car?”

  “Of course.”

  “Who owns it?”

  “I have a question for you first.”

  The superior stiffened. He wasn’t accustomed to being interrogated by the military – even senior officers.

  “Go on?” he allowed.

  “Are you double jobbing us?”

  “What?”

  “Are you watching us watching them?”

  “You’re asking if my agency is keeping tabs on you following my intelligence officer? Well, the answer to that is no,” he barked sarcastically.

  “That’s not what I’m asking. I’m wondering whether you have eyes on any other operation.”

  “I’m quite sure I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “You are the senior political advisor in Northern Ireland. Correct?”

  “Correct,” said the superior, proud of his status as the head of MI5 in the region.

  “So could anyone else be monitoring us while we carry out your orders?”

  “Where is all of this coming from, colonel?”

  “It’s a yes or no, really.”

  “No,” snapped the superior. “Nobody is watching you – nobody from my end anyway. Why? Have you got a situation?”

  “We all have a situation, it seems,” said the colonel. “Lots of people on edge trying to blame one another for this series of events.”

  “You have the advantage on me, colonel. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Mmm …” mumbled the colonel, clearly unconvinced.

  “Who is in the car behind?” ventured the superior.

  “Just some lawyer lady. Probably unconnected.”

  The superior decided not to show any interest.

  The central operations officer had expected a call to say everything was ok. Instead, he got a visit from the brass. Everyone in room leapt to their feet.

  “Withdraw your men.”

  “Sir?” he asked the colonel, who was dressed in civvies, befitting the dreadful hour.

  “Immediately. Withdraw the team.”

  “All of them? We have five posts—”

  “Every last one. And make a record of it – we don’t want any questions here. If M-I-fucking-5 want us on the hook for this trouble, they’ve another thing coming.”

  The opso turned to his team and pressed transmit. “All call signs, all call signs, this is command. Extract, extract, extract.”

  One by one the teams acknowledged the order. Alpha came back on the net.

  “Confirm we leave rogue device at location?”

  The opso turned to the colonel who nodded his head.

  “Affirmative,” relayed the opso.

  “We can’t have them denying anything,” said the colonel. “Those slippery fuckers will not hang this on the military. Let them watch us leave. This is their problem now.”

  “Alpha, command. Turn the device back on, replace it and extract.”

  “Carry on,” clipped the colonel, who turned and left the room.

  Libby pulled in tight to a hedge and hunted to her right for signs of a boatyard. There was little moon and no reflection from house lighting. She tapped the GPS on the hire car. It had taken her to the correct postcode, yet there was no sign of a yard of any sort on the map. She readied to get out and take a look along the shore with a flashlight.

  The clerk rounded a corner and saw the glow of the GPS, followed by a car light as the driver’s door opened. She slowed to a crawl.

  Libby saw the car light behind her and smiled in the sure knowledge that the DET was on her tail. Come with me, she thought. You’ll come in handy when it comes to an arrest.

  The clerk caught Libby in her headlights for the second time in a matter of hours She knew not to miss her chance again.

  Libby flashed the light in a “come on” gesture.

  The clerk came on, slow at first, but with Libby now in the middle of the tight country road, she dropped the gear back into second and hit the pedal. Libby took a moment to register, then leapt towards her own car, the door still open. The clerk hit her on the hip as Libby dived for the driver’s seat. Libby span with the impact, hitting her own door and falling behind the accelerating vehicle. She watched it stop, almost helpless to move, expecting someone to come and help her. Instead she got the white reverse lights, the accelerator got a hammering and the clerk rolled back over Libby’s torso, only stopping to change gear and take a run at her head.

  The central operations officer called the colonel.

  “Sir, it seems you were right. We have a rogue team operating.”

  “In Craigavon? After the Gillens?”

  “No, sir. Well, perhaps. Not sure. I’m talking about the other active op following the intelligence agent. The car I mentioned has just run over and very likely killed the mark.

  “What?” said the colonel, astonished and suddenly afraid of the inevitable rebound. “The intelligence agent is dead?”

  “Rural location, sir. The intelligence agent left the vehicle and the following car hit her hard.”

  “Accident?”

  “Negative, sir. Returned to finish the job.”

  “Where is the car now?”

  “Driving at speed from the scene, sir.”

  “This is the car driven by the lawyer?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did she get out at all?”

  “Negative, sir. Just reversed over the intelligence officer and ran back over her again.”

  “Stop the follow,” the colonel said. “Whatever this is, it’s not our fucking problem.”

  Sam watched the camera on the helicopter reboot. He was again treated to the image of an operative in night-vision goggles and a balaclava. This time the op placed the helicopter gently on the ground. Sam saw his boots, then a re-angling of the image. Then, bafflingly, the two men gathered their equipment and made off into the night. He watched their glow blur and fade. There was no question – the men had extracted.

  Shit, thought Sam, they must know the Gillens aren’t coming back. Worse still, maybe they know I’
m floating offshore.

  “Colonel, if this is another round-the-houses on who is watching who, then frankly I could do without it,” said the superior.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on and why we’re being drawn into it?”

  “No more riddles, colonel. What on earth are you talking about now?”

  “Why get us to follow your staff, only to watch them get killed? You did not detail us with a protection remit.”

  The superior stopped for a moment. “Killed? Who is killed? Which operation are we talking about here?”

  “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter,” said the colonel. “I have documented our withdrawal from both observation operations. The DET is out of this, whatever this is!”

  “Colonel, be very clear here. Who is dead?”

  “Your intelligence officer – the woman formally seconded to north DET. Elizabeth, Libby.”

  “Dead,” said the superior. “Dead how?”

  “Road traffic collision, I imagine you’ll call it. Why you did it is your business, why you drew us into it is beyond me, but be clear on this – we weren’t tasked with protection here and we have extracted. We no longer have eyes on in County Antrim or Craigavon. We are out. I have made a referral to the GOC. We are done here.”

  The line went dead. The superior pursed his lips and swayed his head. A familiar feeling crept up his spine, one of possibility. Provided he could ensure there were no loose ends – and he could work out where Libby had been going and why, maybe this could sort itself out nicely.

  Sam debated whether to extract. They’d found the military-grade helicopter and they knew it wasn’t theirs – so who did they think owned it? The person they were there to stop – the killer? Are they searching for me?

  They’ll assume I’m on land at first, so they haven’t extracted – they’re hunting on foot or in the air. They’ll look for a heat signature within the operational radius of the helicopter. I’m cold, I’m in the hull of a boat in the water. How easily will they see me?

  One way to find out, he thought. He lifted the control and flew the heli a mile into the air – careful to keep it over the copse. He could see two bodies making fast through the overgrowth but they didn’t appear to be searching. He caught another pairing moving at speed towards a road. He watched them stand for a moment, change direction slightly and a car arrive. The pair got into the vehicle and it drove off.