Emily was doing her best to stand fast between the two columns of seats as the helicopter gained speed and ascended higher into the sky. “I never said it would be simple,” she replied. “But we have something that could make things a little easier.” From a pocket she produced what appeared to be a tranquiliser dart. The rest were stored safely in the black bag Thomas Mundahl had given her the evening before, stowed in a cargo hold with the cases of rifles.
“We’re going to trank them… great,” scoffed Brayden, before dismissing the idea. “It won’t work.”
“This isn’t a tranquiliser. It’s an antidote, fast acting. Shoot one of these bad boys at an invisible soldier and ‘poof’’ all their abilities… and our problems… all gone.”
“Woah,” exclaimed another of the field agents sitting close by, this one American.
“Each of you will be given a rifle which holds five of these,” she held it between her thumb and index finger, “in a magazine. You’ll only need to fire one. I’ve two hundred rounds… and there’s eighty-six boys genetically modified, so you know we’ve got more than enough to go round… to treat them all. But make each dart count. Don’t be trigger happy… we wouldn’t want to let a handful of them escape… not the way they are. This is it, our only shot.”
Emily returned the dart back to the pocket from whence it came and started forward to take her seat. The turbulence from the helicopter was off-balancing and it had taken all her effort and the tensing of every muscle to maintain her footing. Before she sat, she had another thought but before voicing it she tumbled to the ground.
“Ahh!”
“You all right?” asked Liam, offering a hand.
“I’m fine,” she gritted, picking herself up and straightening. She addressed the group once again: “Before I sit down, it goes without saying – I hope – but don’t anyone go shooting Sophie by mistake. We don’t want the bad guys having people who can make themselves invisible, but ours is for keeps. She’s an asset. We like her just the way she is.” Now Emily sat, taking a seat next to Sophie.
“Nice speech.”
“Thanks,” replied Emily, strapping herself into the seat. “Now for that talk.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Emily
HMS Ocean was an amphibious assault vessel, the fleet flagship of the British Royal Navy and fresh from a NATO exercise that was taking place within the Baltic Sea, recalled into action on the orders of Prime Minister Humphries. As Emily’s Westland Puma touched down upon the landing platform, the ship was making progress not far from the north-western part of Scotland; the shores of Lewis and Harris, the largest island in Scotland, could be seen through binoculars, and was being observed by a crew member from the ship’s bridge, overlooking the port side (the left, facing forward).
The Ocean’s commanding officer, Captain Beresford, was out on deck, flanked by two Royal Marines and a Warrant Officer. They made up the greeting party and waited patiently as the co-pilot of the helicopter opened out the sliding door of the Puma and stepped down first, offering a hand for any passengers requiring support.
Emily, taking charge, was first to set foot on the warship. Not waiting for her colleagues, she strode out to the captain.
“Agent Porter I’m to assume,” said the captain amiably. “We came as quick as we could.”
“Thanks, Captain, I’m pleased to meet you. I know it was short notice.”
“Well, we’re trained for rapid response, on a cusp or a spur,” replied the senior officer. “The arrangements have been made as requested. I have eight hundred Royal Marines stationed on board… and the best military might the British has at its disposal. Come, I’d like for you to tell me more about our mission. “
“What about the others,” Emily indicated the stream of agents now making their way across the ship’s deck behind her.
“They’ll be taken care of by my Warrant Officer. They can enjoy some down time in our recreation rooms.”
By 8:00 p.m. HMS Ocean was crashing through the choppy Atlantic waters to the west of mainland Britain, travelling at a speed of nineteen knots (which is approximately twenty-two mph), close to the vessel’s maximum and making good time as they approached the Outer Hebridean islands of St. Kilda.
Emily glanced at her watch, noting the time. She was in the company of several senior seamen and military commanders in a room adjoining the ship’s bridge. They were all standing despite there being enough seating for all placed around a table behind them. Sophie was there, as too was Brayden.
The captain had indicated that they would be arriving two miles east of Hirta at 9:00 p.m. Understanding the strength of the enemy, the ship’s commander, together with others in charge of the military ‘might’ transported within the hull of HMS Ocean, agreed to the deployment of all its personnel and the use of its entire armament if necessary. Emily was humbled by the offer, but only asked for one hundred commandos.
Captain Beresford assigned a company from 3 Commando Brigade, under the charge of a Brigadier.
“When we anchor, we’ll deploy the stern ramp. You’ll set to shore on four LCU MK10s,” the captain said. Landing Craft Utility (MK10s) were amphibious transport vehicles, each capable of carrying 120 commandos, a Challenger battle tank and other heavy duty utility vehicles. They would roll off the ship and power across the sea the rest of the way like boats, and then roll onto Hirta’s shore. “We can also offer air support.” He had a host of Chinooks, Apaches and Wildcat helicopters at his disposal, all armed with missiles and other heavy artillery.
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Emily replied. “I’m hoping to take them by surprise and limit casualties. Most of them are only kids, but I think if we get to them fast, no one needs to get hurt.”
Captain Beresford snorted. “You liberals with your crackpot idealism; you honestly think we can win a war without firing a single shot?” he scoffed before sighing. “All right, but, let me tell you, just from my own experience. Once you put a gun in the hands of a child, they STOP being a child. I saw it in Afghanistan, I saw it in Iraq… there’s no distinction. If they fire a bullet at my men, they are trained to respond… and they are good at what they do. They will shoot, and they never miss their mark. If you don’t like it…, well… I’m not forcing you to take the Ocean’s commandos.”
“You should listen to what she says,” advised Brayden. “This isn’t all that it may seem.”
Unflinching, Emily looked the ship’s commander straight in the eye. “I don’t doubt your men are formidable against a normal opposition. When I say I want to ‘limit casualties’ I’m not talking about theirs; I’m talking about ours. These kids are nothing the like you’ve ever come up against, and I’m not just being cautious. Did you hear about what happened at Area 51 last October?”
The captain had heard a version of the events that had occurred in America’s secret air base out in Nevada’s desert, most of it fanciful or just plain nonsense. It had the properties of an urban legend. “There have been some rumours circulating about some secret tech being used, but nothing factual. An invisible soldier? Give me a break!”
“I know it sounds crazy, doesn’t it?” muttered Brayden, smiling mirthlessly. One or two of the military commanders were smirking or laughing also.
Emily was deadly serious. “Say it was true, Captain, what then?” she didn’t wait for an answer. “Now, imagine a scenario where you’re facing not only one enhanced super soldier, but a whole host of them… eighty-six to be precise, what would you say to that?”
Captain Beresford joined the others, laughing contemptuously. “You’re insane,” he said. “I think I’m going to make some calls… this expedition is over.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” warned Brayden. “You must’ve seen the news about all those robberies yesterday. What Agent Porter is saying is all true.”
<
br /> The captain was unconvinced.
“You’re going to need a demonstration.” Emily turned to Sophie standing a little out of the way, to the back of the group, half-perched upon a table. She had been so quiet it would have been easy to have forgotten she was there. “Show them.”
All heads within the conclave turned to face her. Without blinking the blonde girl willed herself invisible. The transformation was instant.
“Good God!” uttered one of the commanders observing.
“Okay,” said Captain Beresford, “you now have my attention.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
Sophie
She had never realised it could be so dark. Banks of thick cloud hung overhead, blacking out a quarter-moon and a billion stars. Internal lighting on the ship had been dimmed and all external lights, including the masthead light, the sidelight and the stern light, had been deactivated in an attempt to mask the Ocean’s approach, all adding to the oppressive gloom. Peering through the Yukon night-vision binoculars, Sophie was able to make out the island’s coastline just beyond the thick, oily surface of the Atlantic Ocean.
Beside her in the lead LCU MK10, one of the four amphibious landing crafts that had been launched for the operation from HMS Ocean’s stern ramp, Emily was feeling anxious. “Do you see anything yet?”
In the background, the engines of the other three amphibious boats rumbled and whirred. They noisily competed with the crashing of the waves battering and jostling them from side to side.
Sophie shook her head. “No.” She lowered the binoculars. “I’m not so sure doing this under the cover of darkness was such a good idea.”
Emily disagreed. “We were not likely to see the boy soldiers during the day at any rate, not whilst they’re disguised.” She meant invisible. “At night… we have a better chance.” Not least because the thermal night-vision glasses they all wore were more effective without the glare of daylight. Using them during the day ran the risk of getting dazzled or blinded by the sun.
According to the coordinates supplied by Mac, Dominic’s base of operations was just thirty minutes away from where the warship had anchored. It was now 9:10 p.m., a little behind schedule.
Radio contact with the commanders on the vessel was maintained via operators in each platoon, of which there were five – with twenty commandos belonging to each. In addition to the commandos, agents Brayden Scott, Christina Mullins, Sophie, Liam and Emily, plus the eight field agents, all keen for some action after being kept on the sidelines for the entirety of the expedition north so far, were all preparing for the battle ahead.
As the shore rushed to greet them, the four amphibious boats fanned out, the pilot/drivers adjusting their velocity to allow them to arrive in a synchronised fashion, spaced ten metres apart. They glided onto the beach almost simultaneously. No sooner had the landing craft come to a halt, the exit ramps were released, clanging down against the shingle.
Now on the island, Sophie felt a tingly sensation as she recognised the setting from Meredith’s description. Her palms felt sweaty; she rubbed them on the thighs of her black combat trousers. Although it was pitch black, the silhouette of the small jetty to the right of the beach was easily identifiable even without the binoculars; ahead, beyond a grassy mound, the large black building Meredith had described where she said her brothers were being held captive. It stood overshadowing everything else and looked almost alien within its surroundings.
“They’re here. I can sense them.”
Emily didn’t respond. Instead, she spoke into a radio that was linked to the FBI, CIA and MI6 agents, as well as the commando platoon leaders. “This is command leader; you are green to go. Repeat. You are green to go.”
A stream of commandos emerged from the four amphibious boats, garbed in dark camouflage battle uniform and combat helmets, and wearing thermal infrared ocular devices strapped across their eyes. Quickly they dispersed into an attack formation. All one hundred of them, standard assault rifles held at the ready, fingers curled around triggers.
There wasn’t enough to go round, but those issued with Lantec SFM6 Anti-Personnel dart guns, kept them easily accessible, though hung over the back of their shoulders. The marines had laughed at them at first, deeming them a ‘soft option’ for military use. Emily had to explain that the enemy they were about to encounter wouldn’t be what they were used to, and that the antidote would make them ‘easier’ pickings. As a compromise, the soldiers agreed to take the modified weapons, but showed no enthusiasm in likely using them.
Brayden and Mullins, who had crossed the sea in one of the other landing boats, walked up to where Sophie and Emily were still standing. Liam and the field agents had landed in the furthest boat from Sophie and were following the marines in the direction of the warehouse building; by the way they were running they appeared keen to get stuck in.
Then, as though triggered by motion or tripwire, what sounded like a single drumbeat echoed within the air as a number of high beam floodlights burst on from high posts planted within the hill every ten yards, illuminating the entire beach for as far as could be seen. Simultaneously, what sounded like an old air raid siren began to whine slowly and mournfully throughout the air.
“Now they know we’re here, I hope they’ve put the kettle on,” said Brayden dryly. Mullins smiled nervously beside him.
“You stay here. I’ll see you inside.” Sophie was holding her dart gun, the barrel pointed ahead of her. In various pockets in her combat clothing she carried spare darts. Strapped to her waist was a holster, within which she carried a deadlier weapon. A Glock 19, her weapon of choice, a more reassuring combat weapon in her hands. Back on HMS Ocean, she had picked up the handgun and felt its surge of power engulf her.
After Barry died, she had vowed never to use a gun again, except it was a promise she knew she wouldn’t keep. Watching Dominic throw that knife at her sister, seeing her nearly die had made her change her mind.
“Sophie, remember what I said. We need Dominic alive,” cautioned Brayden. He had stepped up close to the young woman, whose blonde hair was tied up and contained within a helmet that matched his, and all the other soldiers advancing on the black building, sent on the same mission. “The President was defiant with regards to that. The man needs to be held accountable for his actions Stateside; for the many American deaths. It’s either him… or I have no choice but to take you.”
“You could try. Besides, I have immunity,” replied Sophie sullenly.
“Doesn’t matter... Makes no difference to me. I need to take one of you back. Let’s make it Dominic.” His eyes were pleading.
Sophie glowered at the CIA agent for a moment. “I make no promises,” she said, before vanishing to nothing.
“D’you think we can trust her?” Mullins asked Brayden quietly.
The CIA agent shook his head. “Not a chance. Come… come with me.”
The commandos were thirty metres ahead when the first shot was fired, ringing out within an echo, immediately followed by a yelp as one of the commandos was hit, accompanied by the dull thump as his body hit the ground. Urgent warnings and shouts of instruction were communicated between the marines as they took cover behind or within the ruins of the derelict cottages that lined the one road stretching adjacent to the shoreline, soon truncated by a sudden burst of automatic gunfire as they engaged with the enemy.
Through her night-vision eyewear, Sophie could see the line of soldiers preparing to advance, but bullets were flashing all around them, fired from Kaplan Ratcliff mercenaries who had taken up defensive positions around the perimeter of the building. Unobserved, she stood at the top of the hill that partitioned the beach, and scanned the scene ahead. Using her invisibility, she was able to get the lay of the land, see what they were up against. She counted eight opposition soldiers hunkering at various points around the building, some thirty met
res beyond the row of houses. Hiding to the side of the building or behind hastily erected battlements constructed from wooden crates and oil drums just ahead of it, they used their defensive positions to their advantage.
Peering up towards the roof Sophie spied a sniper perched above. Using the toggle on the side of the ocular device strapped across her eyes she changed the setting from night to thermal and looked all around, searching for ‘others’. She was relieved to see that there were none; the heat signatures corresponded with all the members of Dominic’s welcoming force. There were nine of them in all… and none were invisible. They were just ordinary men.
Sophie reported what she had seen over the comms link built into the commando helmet she wore. “There’s a sniper on the roof and eight combatants placed defensively around the perimeter; four at the front and two at either side.” She toggled the goggles so that night-vision was restored. As the ocular devices were ineffective under bright light, it was fortunate that most of the floodlit area was aimed at the beach behind her.
Hearing Sophie’s dispatch, one of the commandos ran out from cover, drawing fire away from his hundred or so colleagues. Gunfire rat-a-tat-tatted towards him; the distraction was intended to allow a marine to seek the sniper out on the roof. Less than five feet into his run, a single deafening shot rang out.
Sophie watched as a bullet punched a hole into the marine’s face. He crumpled to the floor in a touchdown dive. Seconds later a barrage of bullets sprayed towards their hidey-hole, peppering another marine’s chest and stomach.
“Amberson’s hit!” cried a voice through their in-the-ear headphones.
“So’s Johnson!” yelled another.
The Whisper of Persia (The Girl in the Mirror Book 3) Page 40