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Thomas Lundon stood on the exterior balcony at the old abandoned UN military base he had secured, and watched next to the control tower, as a fleet of black Range Rovers rolled out onto the dust track the other side of the large metal fencing. He smiled to himself as he made his way down the steps to his car flanked by Roman Vose and another two men, all heavily armed with Uzi 9mms and M16s. The sound of the standard military issue, steel toe-capped boots echoed around the entire base to the fading sound of the Range Rover engines. Lundon could see the last of the Range Rovers was towing a trailer with a large black inflatable, and thought back to his briefing to his men. He also watched the two private Black Hawk helicopters take off from the helipad and had taken great delight in imagining what kind of impact this would have on anyone who he was chasing. He had fifteen men taking part in this operation, more than enough to bring in one man.
But what Thomas Lundon didn’t expect was that Mark King was no longer one man, he was five men and three of them were heavily armed.
However, Thomas Lundon had Mark King and was advised he was last spotted in Valencia in Spain associating with some boat owner. He knew he wouldn’t be far from there and had sent his ‘staff’ out to scour the coast of Spain for any place Mark King could hide. Lundon’s most trusted intelligence operatives worked through the night to work out what kind of locations would Mark King be going to around this area. They had identified several areas of interest, including an island off the East coast, of significant interest, seeing as it held a fourteenth-century fortified castle. But there was no way to infiltrate a building like that without attracting serious attention. Any attempt would advertise his location to his enemy. He had learned many things from his military life and giving up the element of surprise was the quickest route to defeat. He pulled out his two-way radio.
‘Get into position. We will wait until the storm has passed and send in a few agents to see if they can recon the building. Let’s test their mettle.’
The radio crackled into life as a passenger in one vehicle had just pulled out. He replied and Lundon gave a further order.
‘Before I authorise a helicopter drop into the main courtyard, I’ll need three teams of three. Alpha and Bravo teams will insert west of the objective by air whilst Charlie team will mount an amphibious assault, all under the cover of darkness.’
However, he had to wait until the current storm had blown over before being able to mount this kind of assault. He looked up at the watchtowers and his guards nodded to him as his driver drove his car into a fortified carport with blast doors. Lundon was no military leader or tactician, but he was desperate and he had performed this role many times before. He would wait here for his glory to be reported to him. And he would enjoy every moment.
The nurse returned on hearing the sound of Nial Atkinson talking and paused at the door, watching the old man talking like he was twenty years old again. She smiled at him as he beckoned her in and she helped prop him up on another pillow. He placed his hand in hers as she sat in the chair next to him while he held the cell phone in the other hand. He went into detail about what happened, nearly forty years previously, to his friendship with Thomas Lundon.
‘I first met Lundon in the army and we had saved each other’s lives several times, becoming firm friends. When we were recruited by a black ops unit to conduct counter terrorism around the world, specifically working for the US Special Forces unit Delta Force, we were recruited together because of our closeness and ability to work fantastically together.’
Nial Atkinson put the history so eloquently and slowed now and then to catch his breath. The nurse squeezed his hand in encouragement periodically, while smiling at him warmly and sympathetically.
Mark King remained silent on the other end of the phone, patiently waiting for Nial Atkinson to catch his breath. The nurse looked concerned and so administered a further dose of morphine after Atkinson agreed to take the drug again now he had explained to Mark exactly what he had been doing. He set it out in plain words for Mark exactly why he was involved.
‘Tom wanted to recruit you to his organisation, Mark. But upon following your developing career years before, he decided you would never agree to be part of such an unjust organisation and risked exposing it if you decided not to join. That was when your death warrant was signed.’
‘It was no good having someone who had been invited to join the Invictus Advoca wandering around after refusing, so he would have to be killed to tie up loose ends,’ Mark pointed out.
Atkinson paused again to get his breath and his nurse lifted a glass of water with a straw in for him to drink from and gently dried his mouth with a neatly folded, pristine white face towel. Atkinson always loved the luxuries, once stealing a solid silver cutlery set from an African dictator he helped eliminate and giving it to a friend as a wedding present, but not before removing two of each of the set he stole for his personal use.
Atkinson regained his composure and strained back the tears as he continued to tell Mark about how crazy the military life had made Thomas Lundon, even though it made him a billionaire.
‘Tom would have people brought to his villa in the Mediterranean to torture and kill them for fun, relinquishing all control over reality and moral standing. He’s a madman Mark, and madmen are dangerous.’
Atkinson was growing angry and hurt as the tone in his voice changed. The nurse got up to mop his fevered brow and hold his shoulders in a loving gesture as if to say ‘calm down’. Atkinson continued.
‘Tom had grown power-thirsty and lost sight of the original mission of the Invictus Advoca, using it instead to blackmail, murder, pillage and control people, towns, societies and governments all over the world. Wherever Invictus Advoca went, devastation and suffering followed.’
‘Then it’s time someone took him down,’ Mark growled determinedly, angered at how upset his old friend was getting.
Mark listened as Atkinson urged him to fail in his mission.
‘If you attempt to destroy this evil organisation, you will need to use every skill and every resource you have and be prepared that it won’t be an overnight solution. It may take months, even years to fully work your way up the chain of command. That is why I have sent you to El Toro.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
Mark sat, aghast at what Atkinson was telling him, unable to comprehend how his life was being mapped out for him without him even knowing. Mark had always considered himself intelligent, yet here he was, up to this point, oblivious to the life going on behind the scenes. What made him angry were decisions about his life being made on his behalf. No one had the right to do that. He felt stupid and paced up and down again; until El Toro came over, once again, to calm his nerves and sit him down to listen.
‘How do you know it could take years to destroy Invictus Advoca?’
Atkinson made a stark admission. ‘I worked so closely with Thomas Lundon before he turned into a power hungry monster. I was considered “High Command” and I know how they operate, their reach and the lengths they would go to, to keep their organisation a secret so it remained operational.’
Mark’s head swam with all this information. How could a secret organisation be running governments behind the scenes? This was what he saw in films, not reality!
‘It is the organisation that is the enemy here, King,’ Atkinson reminded Mark gravely, ‘not just the men who run it.’
Mark felt a cold shiver run through him. ‘I just want my wife’s killer, her REAL killer brought to justice.’
‘These men know nothing of justice,’ Atkinson said sharply, upset at what he was being forced to remember.
‘My kind of justice. And it doesn’t involve a courtroom,’ Mark reminded Atkinson.
The two friends ended the phone call with the usual pleasantries.
‘Take care of yourself, you silly old fool.’
Atkinson gave away a look towards his bed where his ‘attaché’ was stashed and smiled.
‘Don’t mock a senio
r rank and, if I was twenty years younger, I would have beaten you senseless for that comment.’
Mark was grateful Atkinson WASN’T twenty years younger because he knew his word was true, but he also wished he was twenty years younger because he would be here with Mark as an ally and his skills were formidable, hence why he had to hide from Invictus Advoca. They knew what skills Atkinson possessed and what kind of influence he held over old contacts and in countries he still did business with. He was not just some old ‘codger’ in a nursing home breathing his last and reminiscing about old times. Mark smiled at the thought of the justice Atkinson would have visited on his old ‘comrades’ had he been younger and more physically fit. He, even in his old age, was as hard as steel and there was no denying it. El Toro patted Mark’s shoulder.
‘I recommend we get some sleep.’
Mark was still unsure of his next move to trace Thomas Lundon. He couldn’t possibly sleep while all this was running through his head. He needed a plan, he always needed a plan, and he didn’t have one and this hurt and worried him. How would he hit his target, with NO knowledge of his location or whether Mark would be met with an army when he went walking in, knocking on the door? So many things were buzzing through his mind and he opened the oak door to his room. It was made up and his gear was already out and ready. He checked each of his weapons and put his Kadet knife on the floor under his bed, loaded and cocked his Glock pistol and placed it under the pillow, and loaded and locked his rifle.
He was ready for anything but had nothing to do. Mark hoped the next morning would bring fresh insight and more ideas about the whereabouts of Thomas Lundon. Mark lay down and closed his eyes, trying desperately to put it all out of his mind. As he eventually drifted into some form of sleep, his mind inevitably turned to memories of Marie and his children and, after a while, Mark King was unconscious.
It was just after ten AM when El Toro rudely awoke Mark.
‘The storm had passed and breakfast is waiting for you.’
Mark washed and changed back into his black combats and headed down to the main dining hall of the castle’s private residence, where he wasn’t disappointed. There was a cooked breakfast and a continental waiting for him and he eagerly tucked in, suffering from a headache from the whiskey the night before, plus all the questions still buzzing through his mind. He located El Toro in a room with a huge banqueting table and a map laid out on it. He smiled at Mark and bid him good morning. Mark looked interestedly at the map laid out on the table.
‘If we are to locate Thomas Lundon, we need at least to look for areas he might be based. From what Atkinson had told me about Lundon, he never stayed in one location for long?’
El Toro nodded and agreed.
‘We needed to look at areas with road, sea and air access.’ Mark smiled and finished a mouthful of breakfast. ‘Shouldn’t be too hard.’
El Toro led Mark to a row of computer monitors and a laptop on the tables adjacent to the map table.
Within half an hour, the coffee was pumping and so was the blood pressure of El Toro and Mark as they busily searched the internet for areas of interest and marked them with flags on the map. They switched between the screens and the map, occasionally stopping to have coffee and for Mark to smoke. On one such break, Mark looked out of the small window that overlooked the vast expanse of sea which surrounded them. This was a beautiful island. The fact no one ever came here made it so much easier to be at peace here. He would come here again once all this was over and done with.
El Toro joked with Mark as he put another marker on the map and, after a little more searching, ‘Eh Mark, looks like we’ve run out of locations that a billionaire bad guy could hide!’
Thomas Lundon wasn’t hiding, far from it; he was busy mounting his offensive against Mark King which would see this thorn in his side put to rest forever and it couldn’t come soon enough as far as he was concerned. He had cost him a fortune in revenue thanks to his little escapade at the container terminal in London AND in Bremerhaven and taken out some of his best, most skilled, experienced and trusted men and that wasn’t good for Thomas Lundon. He had been so used to having everything his own way, he took a while to come to his senses and mount a meaningful reaction to this one-man army. Lundon wondered where Mark had received such extensive training to hone these skills, why he suddenly wanted to hit Lundon where it hurt and what his motivation was. Lundon was militarily trained but knew nothing about the psychology of a man on a mission. Lundon almost envied Mark at being so young and fit to do this, as those days were over for Lundon. He preferred the controlling aspect of running such an empire as was at his disposal. He wandered back to his car and lit a cigar, and stood, staring at the sun rising over the trees. Today would be the day he would catch this man, this missionary. He had decided years ago that Mark King was a valuable potential asset but his commitment to justice and ‘doing the right thing’ posed too great a risk to his organisation and there could be no allowing people like that to go about knowing such an organisation existed. People who were recruited to the organisation only ever had one invitation; there was never a second chance. Once he had explained the organisation to them, if they didn’t join, they died; it was as simple as that. It was this mentality which had ensured that Invictus Advoca had survived for as long as it had and why it only had the best assets at its disposal.
When he was younger, and still in the military, he had envisaged heading up an organisation that operated above the law, one that would grow powerful and direct armies, supplies and missions of its own, answerable to no one, not government, not dictators, not sovereigns, no one. It would choose where and how it got involved in the world. Its power would come from those who had no use for or right to use it. He had obtained that and, aside from a few rebels which every successful unit had which needed to be weeded out and dealt with, he had succeeded in all he had set out to accomplish and revelled in its covert nature and success. Under its umbrella, he had terrorist organisations, religious movements, military and para-military forces, world leaders, politicians, judges, entire police forces and even royalty. It had taken over the Mafia, parts of the Catholic Church and even several countries’ governments, infiltrating nearly every part of society. No single organisation had ever done that since the Roman Empire and Thomas Lundon was very proud of that. It couldn’t be that ONE MAN, one bitter, angry and vengeful man, could put any of this in jeopardy. He wouldn’t allow it. Mark King, it seemed to Thomas Lundon, had no chance.
Mark and El Toro stared at the map full of flags which they had created, realising they really had their work cut out for them as they tried to piece together where Lundon could be based as of now. The problem, as El Toro has put it to Mark earlier, was that even as they narrowed down their search results, by the time they even got close to the correct location, it was almost certain that Lundon would have moved from that location or not even been there yet. It was like trying to find a needle in a hundred haystacks blindfolded when the needle kept moving itself around. Mark thought back to his Psychology experience.
‘It may be like that,’ he expressed with a glimmer of hope in his voice, ‘but if you hide a needle in one hundred haystacks and keep moving it around, eventually you have to leave the hay disturbed.’
El Toro patted Mark on the back and told him, ‘You have finally cracked, my friend.’ El Toro laughed as he went to replenish the coffee and snack supplies. Mark sat down, not feeling any nearer to locating this man whom he had come all this way to kill. He felt hopeless and cursed himself for allowing his mind to wander to thoughts of giving up and going home, to live the quiet life and forgetting this whole damn saga. But his resolve won through and he smacked his legs in encouragement as he stood up and surveyed the map full of flags. Process of elimination, he thought to himself, putting himself in the shoes of someone like Lundon and piecing together what he knew about him already.
‘He loves power so it would need to be a location which commanded power and control.’
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Mark removed five or six flags to eliminate places which did not fit these criteria, all the while explaining his feelings to El Toro.
‘He had a great deal of money and influence.’
Mark removed any flags of locations which were not influential locations or that would be low cost to Lundon.
‘He would need somewhere with access to air, land and sea escapes and entrances.’
He was about to remove the flags relating to any locations which did not have at least two of these, however El Toro had beaten him to it. Mark looked at El Toro, confused how he would know this. El Toro patted his machine gun and raised his eyes at Mark. Mark smiled and realised El Toro knew Nial Atkinson, so anything was possible.
‘Lastly, he needs total secrecy and security.’
Mark removed any locations which didn’t match these two needs. Suddenly, they had removed all but a few of the locations they had flagged on the map.
Back at the computer monitors, El Toro and Mark studied satellite images obtained via the internet of the four areas they had shortlisted which met what they thought was the criteria Thomas Lundon would require to conduct such operations as Invictus Advoca had been conducting for God knows how long.
‘Most are fortified facilities belonging to various government and private agencies around the world but these two stick out.’
Mark flew over to El Toro and gazed at his screen. El Toro was right, two stuck out. He rubbed his sore eyes and glugged down the rest of his coffee. El Toro sucked loudly on a large Spanish cigar and blew a smoke ring before putting his hands on Mark’s shoulders.
‘We need a break! You should have a wander around the castle to see its many historical sights.’
Mark agreed and, putting out his cigarette, stretched before getting out of the chair and walking towards the door. El Toro, whose arm was still around Mark’s shoulder, escorted him to the door, describing the best way around the castle. Mark was grateful for the break from all the stress and was actually looking forward to a wander around an empty castle to see all it offered. El Toro walked back to the window and stood there, waiting and watching. He said aloud to an invisible enemy, ‘Come on then señor. You make-a your a move. I wait a for a you!’