Scion

by Murray Mcdonald

  As Sam turned from the window and put the phone to his ear, the smile faded.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  Henry Freeman brought Sam up to speed with the day’s events which, as expected, were not well received.

  “Do I need to remind you in simple words what’s at stake here?”

  “No, I’m perfectly aware of what’s at stake Sam.”

  “Good, then take your finger out your ass and fucking kill these fuckers!” Sam snapped the phone off and threw it against the cabin wall.

  Sam Baker, the carefully constructed political façade, had disappeared revealing the real Sam Baker and unknown to all but very few, a twenty percent owner of Transcon and a ruthless son of a bitch who, in four weeks, would win the presidential election and show his true colours. The ultra popular liberal republican was somewhat less liberal than he had portrayed. In fact, he was about as right wing as they came.

  Chapter 25

  The helicopter swooped low over Buckingham Palace. Kelly’s face was pressed firmly to the side of the glass as she strained to see as much as possible.

  “Don’t you want to see?” asked Kelly, noting Scott’s lack of interest.

  “Seen it all before,” replied Scott nonchalantly.

  “What, you’ve seen this before?” she pointed to the Palace below.

  “Yes.”

  “Even the gardens?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t see how. You can’t see these from the ground. There’s a huge wall all around them.”

  “I just have, OK?”

  “When?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m sorry I can’t tell you.”

  Kelly considered Scott’s answers and turning away from the window looked at him,

  “Have you met the Queen?” she asked, incredulous.

  “I’m sorry I can’t tell you that,” replied Scott breaking into a smile.

  The helicopter swept over the front of the palace before swooping down the Mall, and across St. James Park before setting down on Horse Guards Parade, less than 500 meters from the palace.

  A car sat waiting for them as they exited the helicopter. Scott, however, dismissed the car and walked through Horse Guards and out the other side of the building onto Whitehall. Ignoring Kelly’s continual objections, he crossed the street and led Kelly to the front door of the Ministry of Defence.

  Kelly stopped as she read the plaque by the door.

  “Just who the fuck are you?” she asked becoming increasingly frustrated at being kept in the dark.

  “Scott,” replied Scott laughing as he opened the door and stepped aside for Kelly to enter the building ahead of him.

  “Thank you,” said Kelly surprised by his gentlemanly manners. Her police colleagues usually barged in front of her and left the door to slam in her face. Equal opportunities in the police meant exactly that.

  Scott strode across the large reception area and was provided with an escort to take them to the Defence Minister immediately. A short trip in the elevator deposited them on the top floor and before Kelly knew what was happening, she had been left in the foyer while Scott entered the office.

  “Good morning, Prime Minister,” said Scott, walking towards and shaking the hand of one of the two gentlemen seated by a very grand and somewhat out of place fire-place.

  “Good morning Scott. This is George Cunningham who, as of Friday, is our new Defence Minister.”

  George took Scott’s hand and shook it although the quizzical look revealed the Prime Minister had not yet revealed who Scott was.

  The Prime Minister, Adam Smith, had been in power for over seven years and was still as popular as the day he had been elected, which in Britain was no mean feat. He was a personable and likeable man with razor sharp wit and intelligence and whose ancestry could be traced back to the famous economist of the same name.

  After hearing of the second attack, the Prime Minister didn’t waste any time.

  “Any idea who’s trying to kill you?”

  “Absolutely none, Sir.”

  George interrupted. “I’m sorry but is there any chance of knowing what’s going on?”

  Scott looked at the Prime Minister to take the lead.

  “George, Scott here works for us and when I say us I quite literally mean you and me. Although he’s taking some time out to go to Uni.”

  “What does he do?”

  “Hmm, how can I put it…” the Prime Minister pondered his words. “He takes care of difficult situations.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well let’s say we get word of a bad egg, one that we know did something which is most definitely not in the interests of our country.but we don’t have any jurisdiction or in fact hard evidence that we can take to court.”

  George started to nod, beginning to understand what the Prime Minister was getting at.

  “Well Scott here and a few others like him make these problems disappear.”

  “I thought the SAS did that sort of thing?” asked a confused George.

  “Bit too public,” replied the PM.

  “So what unit are you attached to?” asked George looking at Scott.

  “K Squad,” replied Scott.

  “And they’re attached to?”

  “Nobody.”

  “You’re not quite getting it George,” interrupted the PM, “K Squad is ultra secret. The only people who know it exists are Prime Ministers, Defence Ministers and members of the squad.”

  “What about the Joint Intelligence Committee, surely they know?” asked George referring to the group that had complete oversight of all of the UK’s intelligence community, ensuring that all of her majesty’s assets were being used in a co-ordinated effort in the defence of the nation.

  “Nope, me and you. That’s it. Oh and the Queen.”

  “The Queen?”

  “It was her ancestors who set up the squad.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Some time during the Empire, nobody’s entirely sure.”

  George was becoming more and more bewildered at how a personal squad of assassins could be hidden for so long and why on earth they were still necessary.

  “But why?”

  “I explained that already,” replied the PM, becoming tired of the questioning.

  Scott stepped in.

  “Maybe I can explain. I deal with the untouchables, the people who stand behind corrupt governments who stick two fingers up at the international community and say I’ll do what I want, you can’t get to me. I’m talking about terrorists, drug lords, arms dealers, human traffickers. The scum of the earth, basically, whose every breath means misery for others.”

  George still wasn’t convinced.

  His morals were struggling to understand the justification for the ultimate penalty.

  “But we abolished the death penalty,” stated George turning to the PM.

  “Yes but these people won’t ever see the inside of prison. There’s no other way to protect our citizens. K Squad has many restrictions, one of which is that they cannot carry out operations within any of the sixteen countries where the Queen is the head of state. Otherwise the person could be tried and brought to justice.”

  “So who decides what they do?”

  “Me and you but we must agree before a sanction, that’s what we call them, can be issued. The sanction is then issued and one of the five members will be given the task.”

  “Five?” George was surprised at the low number of squad members.

  “Yes, it’s a very tight outfit and that’s one of the reasons that what has happened to Scott is so worrying. If somebody is targeting K Squad, one of our greatest secrets may have been exposed.”

  The PM looked at Scott.

  “I don’t think so, no other squad member has been targeted as far as I am aware.”

  “But how do you recruit squad members, I mean where do you find them?” asked George

 
“Interesting question, let’s just say Scott is rather unique but I’ll let him explain.” The PM nodded at Scott.

  “Squad members can be recruited from any sector of Her Majesty’s Services. I for example was a member of the Special Boat Service before being selected.”

  “And that makes you unique?” asked George.

  “I think the PM was referring to my background prior to joining the forces. I was an orphan and raised on a remote island in the South China Sea. The majority of K Squad members come from one of Her Majesty’s Special Forces.”

  “So you’re not even British?”

  “I believe my mother was. I have no idea whether my father was,” replied a slightly irritated Scott.

  “Scott’s allegiance, I can assure you, is in not in question. This young man has done more for this country than we could ever have hoped,” interrupted the PM.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean it negatively, I was just surprised as to how somebody raised on a remote island came to be where he is now,” recovered George.

  “It’s simple. I wanted to see the world. I visited the main island of Borneo when I was sixteen and met Royal Marines stationed at the UK’s Jungle Warfare Training School in Brunei. I immediately wanted to join but two things stood in my way. I was only sixteen, you need to be seventeen for the Royal Marines and I had no papers to prove who I was.”

  “So how did you get in?”

  “Persistence I suppose. I followed them back to their barracks and discovered the base was run by the Gurkhas. I insisted on meeting with the CO of the base and told him I wasn’t going to move until they allowed me to join. Fortunately after a couple of days at the base gates, they humoured me and allowed me to join them in some exercises where I proved my worth and soon after, I was allowed to enlist in the Gurkhas where you could enlist at sixteen. From there, I joined the Marines, the SBS and was enlisted in the K Squad.”

  “You were a Gurkha?” exclaimed George.

  “Only for about eighteen months.”

  “I’ve never heard anything like it, I didn’t think anyone but a Gurkha could join them other than officers of course.”

  “I don’t believe they can,” replied the PM, “but then Scott here wasn’t your normal recruit. He missed out a fairly major part of his story. Didn’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t say major part. I believe the PM is referring to some training I received from the islanders who raised me.”

  “Some training!” laughed the PM. “By the age of sixteen, Scott here was already a highly trained fighter. The islanders had trained him in martial arts from the moment he could walk. I read the report filed by the Gurkha CO after he had seen Scott on a few exercises. Exceptional talent, unlike anything he had ever seen. He instantly enlisted him despite the lack of papers and ethnicity. Too good to lose he had stated in his justification. Scott probably doesn’t know this but his enlistment was originally rejected. His first few months of pay came straight out of his CO’s pocket. It was only after the Regimental Commander visited and witnessed the young Scott in action that the CO was reimbursed and Scott’s enlistment backdated.”

  “You’re right, I never knew that,” said Scott quietly.

  “From then on, Scott excelled in everything he did, Royal Marine Officer training, the hardest there is. He was fast tracked. The thirty-two week programme cut down to 12 for him. After a year, he was promoted to Lieutenant. From there, he went through Special Forces selection and broke half the records, joined the SBS and soon after was selected to join K Squad.”

  “Quite a history!” exclaimed George, turning to Scott.

  Scott merely shrugged his shoulders, uncomfortable with the attention.

  “And you guys have no issue with the killings?” asked George.

  “As long as they’re a threat to the sovereignty of the country and a threat to others lives, no.”

  “Our agreement and the conditions of operation are prerequisites. No sanctions can ever be issued that do not meet these criteria. Those two conditions are controlled by us and one by the K Squad just before a kill” added the PM.

  “What if I don’t believe I can give the order for a sanction?”

  “I’ll accept your resignation and have you out of here in the next two minutes,” said the PM with a completely straight face. “We are constantly at war and these guys,” pointing to Scott. “Keep it as far away from our front door as they can. We hit first and we hit hard.”

  “Fair enough,” replied George. “I’m in.”

  ***

  Kelly sat in the outer office waiting for Scott, wishing she knew what was being said. She had found out after the door shut that the PM was also in there. The plot was thickening. Her thoughts, however, were interrupted by her cell phone ringing.

  “DS Kelly,” she answered.

  “Hi, Operations Room here, I have a Rosie on the phone asking for you.”

  “Put her through please.”

  “Hello?”

  “Hi Rosie, it’s Detective Sergeant Kelly here.”

  “Hi, I just called to tell you I was on my way but they said you’re not here, you’re in London.”

  “Yes sorry, it’s a long story, I can’t really talk now but if you give me your number I’ll call you back shortly, is that OK?”

  “Of course, my number is 07673245480.”

  The number should have alarmed Kelly but with everything going on she missed why an American having just landed would already have a British cell phone number.

  However, Clark hadn’t missed the error and almost punched fake Rosie as she began to recite the recently purchased pay-as-you-go number.

  ***

  “I honestly don’t think there’s a link between the rapes and the attempts to kill me. Why get me thrown in jail when you want me dead, it just doesn’t make sense.”

  George and the PM also struggled to understand the rationale. Scott was right which of course left the dilemma that he was being targeted because he had been recognised.

  “Maybe somebody recognised you from the TV footage and knew who you were.”

  Scott suddenly remembered the mysterious Rosie.

  “Actually somebody did. An American girl called Rosie but I don’t know who she is or how she fits in.”

  “Maybe you killed someone she knew and is getting her revenge?”

  Scott looked at George deadpan. “If I kill somebody the only person who knows it is dead.”

  George looked into Scott’s eyes and could see he was not in the least bit exaggerating.

  “Perhaps we should ask Kelly?” suggested Scott. “She spoke to Rosie.”

  “Get her in, but before she comes in, no mention of the K Squad.” The PM checked for agreement and receiving two nods asked for Kelly to be sent in.

  Kelly entered the room and after getting over her initial nervousness quickly updated the three on Rosie. With little new information, the PM quickly concluded that no-one had any idea what was going on and until they did, lives were at risk. As long as Scott was around, people were likely to get killed in the crossfire.

  “Scott, you’re not going to like this but I’m afraid the best thing we can do is get you out the country until we find out what’s going on. Too much is at stake if you have been recognised.”

  Scott had arrived at the same conclusion. Staying there meant innocent people could die.

  “I agree Sir. Perhaps I should head home until you give me the all clear or let me know if I can help.”

  The PM, understanding Scott’s offer perfectly, nodded subtly. If they found out who was behind it and they were not on sovereign territory, Scott wanted the sanction.

  Scott checked his watch, it was 11.45 a.m.

  “Sir. I’m rather keen to get going. You couldn’t help get me on the Qantas flight leaving at 12.20 could you? It just catches my connection in Hong Kong.”

  “No problem,” he replied picking up the phone. As he replaced the receiver, the PM had a thought.

  “DS Kelly, perh
aps you should accompany Scott. He may have information that he doesn’t even know is relevant.”

  Scott looked at the PM as though he couldn’t be serious.

  “I agree,” said George. “DS Kelly, is that OK with you?”

  “Yes, of course,” she stammered. She had never been to Hong Kong and had to admit that the thought of the mysterious and very attractive Scott disappearing from her life had surprisingly disappointed her. “If it’s OK with Scott that is.”

  “Scott will do as he’s told,” said the PM, picking up the phone and instructing a change to two seats in first class.

  As they made to leave, the PM had some final words.

  “And Kelly, not a word to anybody about where you’re going, not even your boss.”

  Twenty five minutes later, Scott and Kelly stepped on board Qantas Flight 30 direct to Hong Kong. Scott was under one of his many assumed names. Although he had a number of identities and covers, he surprisingly had no passport in his own name. Kelly on the other hand carried a letter from the PM which he assured her would more than cover for her lack of passport.

  Chapter 26

  Kelly had been in such a rush that she had forgotten to call Rosie who sat with Clark in the Range Rover willing the phone to ring. With every second that passed, Clark felt sure Rosie had blown it. Just as he was concluding he’d have to dispense with her services, her phone rang,

  “Hello,” she answered.

  “Hi Rosie, it’s DS Kelly.”

  “Hi there, I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.”

  “Sorry got caught up, anyway I have Scott here with me and he’s wondering how you know him?”

  Rosie froze, not knowing what to say. Clark, listening in, also had no idea what to say and with no idea what else to do, reached over and switched the mobile phone off.

  “What the hell are you doing?” protested Rosie.

  “Not fucking up. Hold on,” Clark dialled a number and after only two rings it answered.

  “Hello,” responded Walker tentatively.

  “It’s me,” reassured Clark.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “We’ve got a line to the target but we need to know how the girl is supposed to know him so we can reel him in.”