by John Morris
“Remarkably well, I’m sending files now, including the GMP interview recording. I believe it is complete. Otherwise, Manchester has secure housing for all the Boko Haram girls, and we will have video access. Start the ball rolling to move the other girls to Manchester. The Director is seconding a Hausa language expert, but she will remain in London, I think. Excuse me, I must take this call.”
Dan switched to his second line, “Sir Jack, my pleasure.”
“I read your full file, and you evaded a live heat-seeking missile on tour of duty. I also know you are a Harrier fan. I’m on my way to RAF Cottesmore, they have three ready for flight. Care to join me? I’d like to put the craft through their paces, if only for old time’s sake.”
“I’m en route, ninety minutes. I’m just leaving London City.”
“We’ll arrive together. Lock, no load.”
“Agreed. A dog-fight it is, Sir.”
Sir Jack arrived first, and was chatting with the Station Commander when Dan landed. Their talk was confidential, so Dan spoke to a hastily arranged flight crew, and checked over all three aircraft himself.
Sir Jack was dropped off by jeep, and shook Dan’s hand. “Good to see you again, and so soon. Walk with me. Oh, and excellent result on Saturday.”
“Ah, this should be far enough away. Dan, you are here under a ruse. After due consideration, and considerable research, I have decided to back your plans, at least in principle, to take these bases out. The only problem is, that call is not mine to make, but rests with the Prime Minister, at least, for as long as he remains in office.
“Our current batch of political imbeciles couldn’t run a piss-up in a brewery. And as for handing over our sovereign powers to become a vassal state of some European Super-state. Well, it goes against everything I believe in.”
“Agreed, Sir. You have a plan, maybe two?”
“You are perceptive as well. Yes, three actually. I’ve been talking discretely with the other two chiefs, plus our own at the RAF. We have agreed to hold war games, the objective, to take out a base in Libya. We have that coming anyway. We are publicly modelling the attack on Raqqa, but the base we will hit will be a copy of Lillyworth Moor. We need to know what could go wrong.”
“Excellent. Much respect, Sir.”
“I also had a chat with the Admiral of the Fleet, and he is as upset as I am. He has two aircraft carriers, and no sailors or planes to put on them. Last time he had to borrow fighters from the French.”
“Libya. That country would still be stable if the British and French had not decided to remove Gaddafi.”
“Precisely, and now look at the state of it. I could say the same for Iraq. I doubt that ISIL, the Afghanistan war, would ever have happened were Saddam still in power. He was barbaric, but knew how to control his people. These are tribal people. Giving them democracy is something they cannot comprehend. They vote for who they are told to vote for, and warlords take over. The machine gun is their ballot box.
“Regardless, the Senior Service has quite a few Sea Harriers, Tornados, and even Jaguars that are almost in serviceable condition. He and I are surreptitiously refurbishing what we can.
The third point is, these three planes today are finished, but the bureaucratic paper trail reads as if restoration is ongoing. Between you and I, the next three fighters are nearly ready. This is not refurbishment, but a far lower standard. ‘War Readiness’. That means that they will fly, warts and all.”
“This is great news, Sir Jack, but where does it leave us in practicable terms?”
“As Shakespeare wrote, ‘therein lies the rub’. The military have the power to act, but only if there is no government, and upon command of The Queen. I, we all, are preparing for that moment. The Director informed me it was your considered opinion they would do a nine-eleven. Take out Parliament, maybe Civil Service, and Royalty.”
“Yes, Sir. That remains my considered opinion, and I believe it will happen within the next week or so. You better hone your battle skills.”
“Our false war begins on Thursday, but we can begin today. It’s been twelve years or more since I flew one of these things, so I may be a little rusty.
“Four for me, Sir Jack. Dogfight and get lock, game over.”
“Precisely. Perhaps a moment to try to break lock, but we will have comm. between us. Let’s get to it. Oh, and the Wing Commander is joining us, making the odds one against one, against one.”
“Ah. A Mexican Standoff, excellent!”
All three planes were in the air ten minutes later, and they spent the first fifteen minutes regaining skills, flying formations, and performing various flight routines. Sir Jack came over comm. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Red wing, break to port, Blue wing, break to starboard, I’ll carry on and return. Lock, no load.”
All three managed to gain lock on the others, but Dan was the only one able to break lock. He used a severe manoeuvre, diving low for air density, before pulling the nose up sharply, and used the thrust of his vertical landing jets to escape the threat. Under excruciating G-Force, he only just managed to pull out in time, his actions pre-planned. He was unconscious for several seconds, but slowly came alert.
Regaining his senses, he used the thrusters gently to loop a tight loop, and locked on his aggressor. Feeling weak, he retired, the other two continuing until night encroached.
Chapter 43 ~ Undercover
Dan was in high spirits when he arrived home. He checked in with the office, but they were winding down.
Felicity was already at home when he walked in the back door. “I wasn’t expecting to see you for days, what’s up?”
“I’m fed up with living out of a suitcase, so decided to come home. I told them I’d take the housing allowance instead. It’s worth almost two grand a month. The commute will be a drag, but I can pull local station visits, both here, Wymondham, and others, so it won’t be too bad.”
Dan rushed to hug her. He was over the moon. “That’s fantastic news. I love having you here, it makes this house feel like a home.”
“Same here regards you. I didn’t hear you land.”
“That’s the new quiet jet. I’ll get my own version in a month or so, but for now, I’m using the Director’s, and she’s not happy about it.”
“Maybe not, but you are. What’ve you been up to today to put you in such good spirits?”
“Well, I met Sir Jack, and after a most informative discussion, we flew Harriers in simulated dogfight. I was the only one to break missile lock, but cricked my neck. I’ll go up for a massage bath.”
“What did you do, Dan?”
“Just pulled the nose up, and activated the landing thrusters.”
“Did you black out?”
“Yes, but only for a moment. I had already begun to stop the thrust. I pulled four-point eight G. In Iraq it was five-point three.”
“Are you mad? Go, I’d better cook tonight. What do you fancy?”
“Fish and chips. I need to keep tonight simple, and I’m early to bed. I leave for Luton at four a.m., to pay Hussein’s office a visit.”
The following morning, Dan hired a white van at Luton airport, and was in situ ten minutes later, his watch read five o’clock. He exited the side door, dressed in jeans and hoodie, looking like a lost soul on the way back home from a party. He also had a nondescript backpack, and looked at the pavement, as if off on a drugged trip. There was nobody about, but Dan always took precautions. Sometimes there were hidden cameras, or unknown eyes watching.
He sloped into the alley and made a show of stopping for a piss. Undercover, his eyes were alive, and his adrenaline rushing, a feeling he had not experienced for some years.
He had spotted the two cameras he needed to take out, wary of a third Ayesha did not know about. He had a special camera with him, like a Polaroid. It had instant print capabilities, but state of the art. He jumped and scrambled onto the top of the wall the first camera was fixed to, and aligning sight with that of the camera, took an image.
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br /> He cut out the result, and placed it inside a plastic cap, which he then pushed over the lens. Walking atop the wall, he did similar with the second camera, and looked for others. There were none, so he hopped down inside the wall, all senses aware, and made for the door Ayesha had told him about.
It was not the main rear door, but one to the side that looked like it had not been used in years. He was a little out of practice with using skeleton keys, the lock rusty, but remembered his academy training, and released the catch. He gulped and opened the door, expecting an alarm to sound. The night remained quiet, and he was in.
He mentally followed Ayesha’s map, keeping sharp watch for movement detectors, and avoided two. It turned out the building only had cameras outside, and on the main thoroughfare.
Upstairs, he slowly nudged the door of Hussein’s office open, checking with a wire wand for sensors. There were none. He examined every cupboard and drawer, taking snapshots of anything he found interesting. His mission was reconnaissance, not understanding what he was looking at. That was until he removed a bottom filling cabinet drawer, and found folders of highly sensitive documents beneath.
He went through each one, having worn surgical gloves since picking the lock, carefully replacing each exactly as it had been. When he was done, he zipped and sent his night’s research to Alison, his own secure email, and the Director. ‘Main mission accomplished’.
Checking the night sky, and his watch, he went through to the adjoining office, and discovered a private diary, which made for revealing reading. He wasn’t sure if the person was a plant, and checked for identity. It was Hussein’s son, Waheed. It contained a record of the aircraft that had entered UK, and their passenger/cargo list going back several years. He wondered, ‘was it for personal use, or insurance?’
There were entries for the coming days, a rise of activity, and then a lull. Dan knew he had the ISIL day of attack down to a half of one day. He started at the last entry, and worked backwards.
Daylight was approaching, and he had much information to gather. He leafed through pages as fast as he could, with his phone on video. He would unravel the all of it later: having the information was key.
He left sharply when the copy was finished, covering his tracks, and leaving from the far end of the alley. He turned left, the opposite direction from the van, and in a doorway, removed the hoodie. He replaced it with a light jacket, and put his backpack into a carrier bag. Final touches were a cap, and spectacles.
He returned to Luton airport. On the way back, he dictated his notes, and would run them through a voice processor at home.
Dan caught Felicity leaving, and ran down the drive to kiss her lips, each relieved the other was okay. It was all either needed to know.
Dan compiled his report, called in work, and then spoke to his Director. He sent a full copy to work, and another to Derek at Bude. He spent most of the day, deciphering, analysing, and cataloguing the information he had discovered. He had almost finished going through the video of the diary, when somebody came in the front door.
“Felicity, what are you doing back so soon?”
“It’s after seven Dan, I worked late. Have you been here all day?”
“Yes, been in the library all the time.”
“Jezzz! I bet you didn’t eat either. What am I to do with you? Today you broke into somebody’s office, and stole private information.”
“You should see what I got, the entire plan for the takeover of Blighty. It begins next week. Are you going to arrest me, or kiss me?”
“Neither. You are going to take me out for the night. I need a large Pernod and chicken tikka masala. You have been bragging about eating prawn vindaloo, so tonight you prove it. You are driving, and I’ll be ready to leave in thirty minutes.”
“Ma’am, it will be as you desire.”
Before Felicity could reply, Dan withdrew to the library. He was dedicated to finishing the day’s work before they departed.
They joined the others in the bar for a short while, but made their way through to the restaurant. This was their night together. Dan struggled with the vindaloo, and sweat beaded his brow.
Ayesha came to check on them. “Are you enjoying the meal?”
“Yes, it’s wonderful, but I think Dan is a little hot. Have you anything to ease that?”
“Well, I didn’t pull any punches with the chillies, but yes. Drink milk, not beer, and have a dessert with fresh cream. I can also whistle up a Tarka Dal, without the spices, just lentils, oil, ginger, and garlic. It takes the edge off the heat. The ones that have curry in them don’t. I have portions in the freezer, I just need to nuke one. Say five minutes?”
Dan’s face was turning redder. Felicity said, “Better bring two. It sounds healthy, so I’d like to try it as well.”
Ayesha returned a short time later. Felicity loved it, and Dan became a fan within moments, the heat of the vindaloo being absorbed, to the point he began to enjoy the meal again, despite his numb mouth.
Ayesha said, “Felicity, I need a word with you. Both Brian and Dan are hopeless at money. Dan owes Brian a lot, and it’s time to settle up.”
“Dan, how long since you last paid?”
“I don’t know, a few weeks, a month I guess.”
“That’s for the room, yes? And the tab for bar and restaurant?”
“Yes, that’s probably a few thousand by now. Damn, with everything else going on, I completely forgot. Tell Brian I’ll pay him immediately, and also pay the tab in advance in future, say one grand.”
“I am sorting this out, Dan. I’ve never met anyone so hopeless with money. I think you should have your wages paid into the joint account, then I can cover all your spending easily.”
“And you will pay yours in as well?”
“No. This is the way marriage works Dan, ‘What is yours is mine, and what’s mine is my own’. Understand?”
“That doesn’t seem fair. Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“So, in that case, what will your own wages be spent on?”
“You still don’t get this, do you? I will be buying food, probably cooking most of it, buying things for the home, and spending most of the rest on raising the children.”
“Yes, about children. We don’t have any yet.”
“We’re not married yet, and you haven’t proposed to me.”
“Accepted. But ignoring the circumstantial trivia, I think I must be doing something wrong. We will need to practice at making babies more often. What do you think?”
“I think you are only after using my body for your personal gratification. I am already pregnant, remember? Practice unnecessary.
“I’m going to have a word with Brian, sort out your tab, and you are sleeping in the spare room tonight.”
The next morning, Dan woke as Felicity was stirring beside him. He recalled their banter of the night before, and how it almost became serious, but not quite. They shared a sense of humour, but were both independent people. He realised that their marriage would be good, entertaining, and never boring. He was thinking about popping the question, when his phone rang.
“Dan, I just got a call from Bude. The Executioner has left under heavy disguise, and is in a car headed east. We are both monitoring.”
“Alison, I’m on my way in.”
“Don’t hurry Dan, this has a strange feel about it. They are in an SUV, which I have a drone on. I still need to go through the information you sent in, but I think this is preparatory work. I know you make your reports in the morning, so finish them. I’ll call when you are needed.”
Instead of making a marriage proposal, Dan offered to make a pot of coffee, and was soon working in the library. His reports sent, he checked in with Alison, who was still monitoring progress.
Dan was making an in-depth report for Sir Jack, when Alison called. “Dan, The Executioner is at the Rochdale airstrip. I have satellite feed, and our drones in place. He is being treated with greatest respect.”
Dan sat back to consider what was actually going on. His arbitrarily spoken words were key. ‘He is the commander on the ground in Blighty. Visiting all airfields makes sense, but driving does not.’
He called Alison back. “I think The Executioner will visit all the airstrips today, ending up at Lillyworth Moor. Look for him using aeroplanes, and forward any new squawks to Trimingham. Let me know if anything breaks that pattern. I’m currently working on our response to his nine-eleven style strike at the fabric of our nation.”
“Get to it, Dan. Sometimes I feel there are only a few of us with Britain’s best interests at heart.”
“You are correct. Bye.”
Dan worked until mid afternoon, and considered calling Sinjun, before realising he needed to support the team with his physical presence. His report for Sir Jack, an appraisal of the forthcoming strike and response had been difficult. It included an assessment of the number of possible targets, ones that Dan had attempted to grade. He needed to speak to the Brigadier about his grading system.
Arriving at the village, Dan checked with the team first. Alison said, “You were correct, he is working through all the airfields in turn, and just left our local one, and we got some high quality images.”
“Great work team. Everything else okay?”
The skies were growing prematurely dark, black thunderheads of cumulus nimbus were gathering as Dan made his way downstairs to pick Sinjun’s brain.
Dan laid out his plans as a proposal to Sinjun, who took them with great regard. He suggested only a few minor tweaks.
“Dan, this is all theoretical, but I have been working along similar lines since we left Sir Jack. Tell me what the EU is?”