Before Melvyn had chance to acknowledge or turn away from the screen, the alarm sounded again, signifying another initiate in distress. He returned to the list and scrolled down. The entry for number ‘Forty’ was this time flashing red. He turned off the alarm and told Garret.
When the alarm sounded for a third time, a panicked look struck Garret hard across the face. “What the hell’s going on?!”
“It’s Fifty-Eight this time,” informed Melvyn.
Garret thumped the keyboard in front of him with a fist and threw himself back in exasperation. “I don’t like where this is heading. I wish Dominic was here.”
Melvyn turned off the alarm again and quickly returned to the surveillance station next to Garret. Dragging the desk microphone over, he spoke into its head. “Numbers Thirteen and Eighty-Four; you’re to divert to Hatton Garden where Twenty-Six needs urgent assistance, do you copy?”
“Copy,” chorused through the in-built speakers.
Garret switched the video feed from Twenty-Six over to number Forty. “Forty, what’s your status?”
Silence came over the airways.
“Number Forty, do you hear me?”
Melvyn swivelled around again to face the computer screen with the list of initiates. He scrolled down the names, stopping at a flashing red one. Number Forty. Alongside the identifier, his coordinates were highlighted. A little further along, the boy’s blood pressure should have been detailed, in addition to his heartbeat. Neither of these was being recorded. Instead a ‘–’ appeared.
“Forty, please acknowledge,” said Garret desperately.
“I think he’s dead,” said Melvyn gloomily, peering around to his Kaplan Ratcliff colleague.
Ignoring him, Garret selected the video feed for number Fifty-Eight. The image immediately appearing on the screen was grey and out of focus. “Fifty-Eight, I’m getting your distress signal. What’s your status?”
Silence.
“Fifty-Eight?”
Melvyn, still hunched over the computer screen behind Garret, sighed and shook his head. “He’s dead too, Garret. His coordinates are the same as number Forty’s.”
“Jesus,” Garret exclaimed. “Dominic’s going to be pissed off when he hears this. What’s their location?”
Melvyn selected the coordinates and keyed in a command. Before the computer had acquired the location, the alarm sounded once again.
“Oh bloody hell,” uttered Melvyn at what appeared on the screen in front of him. It could equally have been at hearing the distress signal. “You won’t want me saying this. Fifty-Eight and Forty... they were both with Thirty-Seven.”
“Thirty-Seven?” Garret was confused. “Weren’t we watching his feed a moment ago?”
“Yes, at The Bank of England. There were eight of them working together.” Melvyn deactivated the distress signal again and hurriedly identified its source. Anxiously, he looked up. “What’s worse,” he groaned, “that distress alarm... it came from him. Initiate number Thirty-Seven.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Emily
The Chief was in no mood for any more bad news, so upon receiving Emily’s brief regarding Dominic Schilling’s demands with regards to Sophie, and the man’s offer of a hostage exchange for the Whisper of Persia diamond (to be stolen once again for him), the head of MI6 was utterly incensed.
“We’re in a state of emergency here in London, Emily. I’m not sure the Prime Minister is going to be too interested in what you’re doing north of the border, and neither will Her Majesty. I’ve just had word that the Crown Jewels have been seized from the Tower of London; the Queen is most distressed.”
“Oh.”
“Somehow ‘oh’ doesn’t quite convey the mood in the capital at the moment, Emily; the government are voting on whether to declare martial law, bolstering the insufficient police presence with the might of the military.
“But there are some positives. The flying squad foiled a gold bullion heist at The Bank of England; quite adventurous and impressive, honestly. The blighters were caught exiting the building and almost got away with it, but were intercepted by armed officers responding to a silent alarm triggered down in the vaults. After reports were being received of thefts taking place and items of value just ‘disappearing’ we quickly guessed that London was under attack by those responsible for Scotland the other night, so rapid response teams were assembled and deployed. About eighty million quid’s worth of gold was recovered, and three of the thieves were killed fleeing. There were others involved I’m sure, but how many we can only guess what with them being invisible an’ all. Huh!” The Chief grunted, “George Jennings has a lot to answer for!”
“Well, I’m sure he’d condemn this misuse of his research and what his super soldiers are being reduced to, but as he’s dead...”
“Yes… yes, I know. But... this can’t go on, Emily. With those abilities, we have us a massive disadvantage. We need a way to match ourselves so that we can counter and put a stop to them, once and for all.” The head of MI6 went quiet for a moment, wrestling his conscience with something. Just as Emily was about to ask if he was all right, the man spoke. “I know you’re not going to like what I’m going to suggest, and I wish to God we had another choice. I think we need to bring Sophie in and have some tests run on her; see if there are any ways to reverse-engineer her abilities.”
“Sir? That’s abhorrent! She’s one of us! I won’t allow it!”
“I don’t like it, but what else can we do?”
“There is something else,” replied Emily after a lengthy pause, optimism in her voice.
“What do you have in mind...? Spill!”
“Give me twenty-four hours, sir; I may already have the answers to your prayers,” adding cryptically, “I just need to see someone first...”
Ending the call, Emily speed-dialled another number. A ringing tone followed for a short while succeeded by a click as it was answered. Not waiting for a greeting, Emily spoke hurriedly: “Hi, it’s Emily... that thing I sent you towards the end of October... did you make it?”
Brayden looked up expectantly as Emily walked back into the surveillance room, as though the MI6 woman was blessed with the solution to their latest obstacle. Mullins sat nursing a cup of weak tea, too milky and way too much sugar added for anyone else within the room to like.
Heeding off questions, Emily spoke first. “We’re on our own with regards to Sophie, the diamond and getting Meredith and her brothers back.”
“What?” Brayden couldn’t believe it. He swore. Mullins didn’t say anything, just shook her head and wrinkled her nose.
“London has problems of its own,” explained Emily.
“The thefts?” Whilst Emily was on her mobile speaking with the head of MI6, Brayden had tapped into a news feed on one of the office computers. So far, he was aware of at least thirty robberies, with reports that many more were ongoing. “Is it genuinely that bad?”
Emily nodded. “It’s turning desperate.” She detailed the theft of the Crown Jewels. “What’s worse, I’ve been given new orders. I’m to return to London... immediately.”
“What about Sophie? She’s not going to like that,” said the FBI Agent, stating the obvious. She took a sip from her tea.
“She’ll understand. You should know Mullins, that whilst you and Brayden were chasing Sophie across America, I was helping and advising her on escaping you from the end of a telephone; we don’t need to be joined at the hip.”
The cars transporting the field agents – Liam with one group, Sophie travelling separately with another – arrived at the police station just as Emily was climbing into the back of DI Bremner’s Audi S3. Electronically winding the window down with a push of a button, Emily leaned out to catch Sophie’s attention.
Not waiting for her vehicle to stop, S
ophie opened the door and spilled out half-running. “Emily! What’s going on? Where’re you going?”
“London. Something important has come up.”
“London? Important?” said Sophie agitated, sounding whiney. She knew nothing about the spate of robberies taking place in the capital; despite the radio in the car reporting the incidents, her focus was engaged elsewhere. “What about me and Meredith? Plus we’ve only just got here,” which was true; they’d only been in Edinburgh a little more than an hour.
“We didn’t come here to sightsee,” replied Emily harshly.
Sophie ignored the comment. “I can’t do this alone...” she pleaded.
“You’re not alone,” Emily assured her. “You have Liam and the MI6 field team; plus Brayden, Mullins and their agents. I’ll tell you later why, but trust me; I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t necessary. I’ll come back... as soon as I can. Good luck.”
Sophie was about to argue some more when Emily turned and gave DI Bremner the nod to drive. The Audi moved gently forward then sped off, joining traffic at the roundabout onto Antigua Street, then travelling in the direction of Queen Street.
Thirty-five minutes later and the telltale signs of an airport appeared on the horizon; aeroplanes descended from the sky, one after the other, with little time separating their arrival.
The Westland Puma was powering up when they drove into Edinburgh Airport, security personnel waving them through after expeditiously checking their credentials. The car pulled up a short walk from the aircraft.
“It was a pleasure meeting you,” DI Bremner walked Emily towards the helicopter. “Shame you have to leave so suddenly... but I can understand.”
“Goodbye Detective Inspector.” Emily shook his hand before turning and jogging the short distance to the helicopter. Once inside, the co-pilot closed the door and the aircraft juddered into the air, hovering at ten-feet for a moment before turning gracefully to change direction and gliding steadily up and away.
The co-pilot stepped past Emily as she secured the four straps of her seatbelt into the buckle she pulled up from between her legs. “London, miss?” he asked loudly over the noise of the military aircraft. The crew of the Westland Puma had received instructions from MI6 headquarters with regards to the woman’s return and her onward travel requirements.
“Not yet,” Emily demurred. “Tell me, do we have enough fuel to get to Devon?”
“Devon?” the co-pilot looked quizzically at her. “You fancy a holiday instead?”
“No... There’s someone I urgently need to see.”
The co-pilot’s jokey demeanour slowly drained from his face. “Hold on. I’ll check with Barnaby.” Barnaby was in the cockpit, piloting the helicopter, now flying around 10,000 ft. Looking down through the window, sprawling hills and long winding roads could be seen below, with one or two matchbox cars travelling indistinctly in either direction. A minute later he returned, looking pleased with himself. “It’s about 360 miles to Devon,” he said excitedly. “Coincidentally, that’s the mileage we can get from a full tank on this bird. We just filled up before we left.”
Emily smiled. “That’s good, it’s settled then. Set the new course and wake me when we get there.” She jiggled in her seat, making herself comfortable before closing her eyes. The co-pilot turned and disappeared back into the cockpit, pushing to the door behind him.
Chapter Forty-Four
Sophie
When DI Bremner drove off with Emily in the rear of the Audi, Sophie felt lost and abandoned, and a wave of panic overwhelmed her. Almost hyperventilating, salvation came in the unlikely form of Brayden Scott, who had watched Emily drive off from the outskirts of the police building on Gayfield Square and who came to Sophie’s aid after seeing her distress.
“Sophie... it’ll be all right,” Brayden soothed, stepping up close beside her. “You don’t need her. Hell, you don’t need any of us!” he mused. “Emily’s an analyst... and she’s got an important job to do back in London; she’ll be back when she’s done. Let’s go inside and work out our next play.”
Sophie calmed sufficiently enough to be led into the building where Liam had already disappeared. The field team of MI6, FBI and CIA agents moved aimlessly around outside the police station, looking menacing in their black clothing, body armour and matching bulletproof vests. Some carried weapons over their shoulders, but most kept guns concealed in holsters strapped around their waists. Their presence gained worried looks from the few pedestrians passing by.
FBI Agent Mullins was still in the surveillance room watching over video footage from the street cameras. Liam was sitting next to her, and both looked up as Brayden entered the room with Sophie close behind.
Liam plucked the ring-pull on a can of Sprite, fizzy bubbles frothing up over the rim. “It’s not too late to make a grab for Dominic, ya know,” said Liam, lifting the can of drink to his lips. “He’s still in the food hall where Sophie met him.”
“He knows that we wouldn’t attempt it, not whilst he has my sister,” explained Sophie. She peered over Liam’s shoulder, looking at the man she had been sitting with barely twenty minutes earlier.
“Look at him... smug son of a bitch.” sniped Brayden, joining the three to look at the screen. “Is that an Oreo Krushems he’s eating?” Brayden was studying the man’s choice of dessert, nostalgic for something American. Before anyone could answer him, his mobile phone started to ring. He glanced at the caller ID. “It’s Mac,” he announced, swiping the screen to accept the call as he turned away. He walked to the other side of the room.
“And he seriously wants you to steal him a diamond?” Liam spoke with a disbelieving expression on his face.
“Not just any diamond. This one...” Sophie dropped the visitor’s guide Dominic had given to her in front of Liam and Mullins.
“The Whisper of Persia,” read the FBI agent. “Sounds exotic...” she paused, before adding, “isn’t that the diamond he got you to steal last summer?”
“The one and only.”
“Bet you wished you’d kept it... would’ve saved us the headache,” surmised Liam, taking a long pull from his Sprite.
At the back of the small room, snatches of one-way conversation between Brayden and Mac were overheard, but nothing that made any sense. The call was short and ended with Brayden hurrying back over as Sophie countered Liam’s observation:
“I wish I’d shot Dominic in the back of the head when I’d had the chance... that would’ve been a better solution.”
“Listen up,” Brayden rejoined the group. Liam and Mullins turned obediently like children in their chairs. Sophie, still standing, was facing him as he returned. “That was Mac. I’m not sure how this fits in, but the van used by the abductors of Sophie’s brothers and sister has been spotted by traffic cops. They’ve been following at a discrete distance whilst a surveillance drone has been watching from overhead. Mac reports that the drone is now broadcasting live footage of the van and tracking its progress; it seems to be heading this way, towards Edinburgh.”
“Shouldn’t we intercept it?” suggested Mullins. “Bring whoever it is driving in for interrogation.”
“We could... but we’d lose the element of surprise. I’m thinking it might be better to sit, watch and wait. Maybe that van will lead us to Dominic’s base of operations, or at least to where he is keeping Meredith prisoner.”
“Maybe it won’t,” disagreed Sophie.
Brayden ignored the comment. “Mac’s sending us a link to the video feed... Liam, maybe you can take the lead on that and follow the van’s progress?”
“Right, I’m on it.”
“You see anything interesting, let me know.” He turned to his partner. “Mullins?”
“Brayden,” answered the FBI agent flippantly.
“You’re with me.”
An al
armed look flashed up on Sophie’s face. “What d’you want me to do, Brayden?” she interrupted. “We’re here because of that man...” she pointed to the screen which still continued to display Dominic Schilling eating his ice cream. He appeared happy and without a care in the world. “... and we have less than four hours to get what he wants.”
Brayden swiped up the guide book to the Queen’s Gallery and held it out to Sophie. “You’re on your own,” he said seriously. “But don’t worry; we’ll be on hand to help from the sidelines.”
“Honestly... I didn’t think stealing a diamond would be something you guys would condone.” Sophie stepped out from the back of the black Ford Mondeo. Christina Mullins was sat next to her and the CIA agent was seated in front alongside a field agent moonlighting as a designated driver.
“Don’t think of it as ‘stealing’. Think of it as ‘borrowing’...” suggested Brayden through the crack of his open window. “Besides... the CIA does this sort of thing all the time.”
Although close to 4:00 p.m., the car park abutting Holyrood Park was nearly full and made even busier with the arrival of Sophie, Brayden and Mullins in their car. The team of Anglo-American field agents were in the three others behind them.
“I still don’t know why we couldn’t just ask the gallery if we could actually ‘borrow’ it. I mean, we’d give it back after...”
“Sure,” replied Brayden, adding sarcastically: “That would work.”
“Just saying...” said Sophie petulantly.
Mullins climbed out from the other side of the Mondeo and walked around to stand alongside the blonde woman. “Okay... we’ll wait for you here. Wear this two-way radio.” The agent handed over a small discrete earpiece and a pin-on microphone, which Sophie inserted and attached to her body. A wireless transmitter pack she clipped to the waistband of her trousers behind her. “If you encounter any problems, give us a yell.”
The Whisper of Persia (The Girl in the Mirror Book 3) Page 32