by James Flynn
The jet taxied to a stop not far from the terminal. There was just one man that came running out of the single building that constituted the terminal, and Mulberry had ascertained in the past half hour of waiting that the small airfield had a skeleton staff on at this hour. Medea must have paid a fortune to keep it running through the night. The jet door opened and swung down to turn into the exit stairs, and the operative emerged in the doorway. He looked his usual coiled self. Mulberry decided it was not necessary to greet him on the runway and headed into the relative comfort of the terminal; he knew that the operative would follow. He checked his watch and hoped that the flight from Hamilton was on track.
35.
Luke sat active in thought; he was running endless scenarios in his head, assessing each option and the possible outcomes. They now had, at maximum, three hours until they landed somewhere in Kent. He kept coming to the barrier that people would be waiting for Razor and Seona at the airport, and he didn’t think they’d be overjoyed when he strolled out. He only had one magazine left in the Browning, minus two bullets, and he was pretty sure that anyone at the airport would have a stock of weaponry and ammunition waiting. He also thought that if Bobby, or even Razor, were meant to check in, then whoever was waiting in England would be on full alert. He continued to arrive at the same answer; they needed to re-direct the plane.
The last four hours had passed tensely and predominantly in silence. He was aware of Seona’s constant fear. Eventually she had calmed down, accepting that nothing was going to happen to her on the plane. His attitude had also softened; it was impossible to be in such close proximity to a beautiful and vulnerable woman and not think of Sarah. They were very different people but his brain kept overlaying Sarah’s image on top of Seona’s; it created sympathy. He didn’t want to hurt her, it was not his intention, but all that had kept him alive for the past five years was doing what was necessary to survive and achieve his objectives. It was ingrained into his fibre; he had had no one and nothing to engage with on an emotional level. He now had a new objective: find Medea.
It had been a welcome reprieve when Seona had asked if she could use the cubicle shower at the back of the plane to at least try to get clean. He had agreed but only after checking it thoroughly for any objects that could be used as a weapon.
The decision had been made that the aircraft would be diverted to a different location; it would give them the jump on Medea and his men. The last four hours had been spent figuring out what location; over and over Luke’s mind kept falling on the same name: Remy Aubert.
Remy was a French millionaire who now resided in the Buckinghamshire countryside. He had made his money through European telecoms and had emigrated once his company was sold off around seven years ago. Aubert wasn’t the most legitimate businessman, not that many were. However, Aubert took it to new levels. He operated several illegal money-making schemes, all of which were highly profitable. This was how Luke had first been in contact with him. Being an honourable new British citizen, Aubert worked heavily with governments and intelligence, aiding them with logistics … illegal transportation and smuggling were his speciality. He had built his own airfield in a small town called Towcester and ran everything from there. In return for his government work, certain issues and illegalities were overlooked. He never knew who Luke worked for, but he was efficient, hospitable and, best of all, covert.
It was Towcester that they would head for.
36.
“What the bloody hell is that?” The pilot almost cracked his head on the corner window of the cockpit as his co-pilot pulled a gun from under his seat.
“It’s protection, that guy back there is an imposter. What if he is going to kill us when we land?” He closed one eye and checked down the barrel; he didn’t know what he was looking for; he had just seen them do it in films.
“Will you get a grip? Put that thing away or you’ll more than likely end up shooting us!” The pilot was visibly shaken.
“No, we have to salvage this mission, and if you won’t help then I’ll do it alone.” The co-pilot grinned as he clicked off the safety lever.
“As the pilot of this plane, I order you to sit down and put that thing back under the seat until we land.”
“That man back there needs confronting. If he is, in fact, an imposter and we stop him, think how much more money we’ll get. Now’s the time. We only have a few hours. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it all.” With one final check of the weapon, the co-pilot stood to exit.
The pilot grabbed his arm. “Don’t do this! You have lost your mind. This is real, you are carrying a gun, and you will get hurt.”
The co-pilot turned and appeared to be thinking about what the pilot had said; then he leant over and pressed two buttons.
Auto-pilot disengaged, the electronic voice flashed on.
The pilot quickly grabbed the stick and took control, before he could re-engage the auto-pilot the cockpit door was being opened.
37.
The cockpit clicked and the familiar metallic bang sounded, out stepped the co-pilot. Luke rolled his head back to stretch his neck. He looked expectantly at the co-pilot. The co-pilot stepped out of the cockpit and slid the door closed immediately behind him. He didn’t step out into the cabin, but inched his way against the wall, keeping his back to Luke with his right hand tucked behind his back.
“Everything ok?” Luke asked
“Yes, everything is great. Just came to say we are only two and a half hours away from landing.”
Luke knew something was awkward about the co-pilot’s movements. What’s in his hand? “We are going to have to change destination. I have new co-ordinates – boss’s orders,” stated Luke.
“Oh right, well we can’t just alter course like that, I’m afraid. Flight paths are booked; we will need to book a new one in. It will take explaining and paperwork.” The co-pilot’s voice was nervy.
Luke was allowing the man to keep moving; he didn’t seem to have a clear purpose, but his nerves gave him away. Luke continued, “We will have to bypass paperwork on this one. I’m sure you’ll be recompensed for the time.”
The co-pilot continued his movement in an arc around the plane, hand still behind his back. He was now edging round to the bathroom side. “Where is the girl?”
Luke couldn’t figure out what this guy was playing at; he was obviously not trained for this sort of thing. Has something come through on the radio? Luke now started to come alive. Was Razor meant to have checked in by this time? Was someone on the ground alerting this amateur? Alarm bells rang.
Luke honed in on the co-pilot’s right hand. He was making a vital mistake. Never hold a weapon up behind your back. The draw time was incredibly slow plus the draw angle of a contorted arm in comparison with a straight arm was abysmal. There was only one thing more dangerous than a trained armed man, and that was an untrained armed man. Luke stood slowly so as not to make him jump.
“Ok buddy, just stay there, ok?” The co-pilot tried to sound confident.
Luke started toward him. “Hey listen, don’t worry about all the paperwork and booking of flight paths. Let’s just make it easy money for you, just chuck the new co-ordinates in.” He was trying to close the gap subtly.
“Ok sure, sure, yes that’s fine, all fine. Just stay there and I’ll go back and let the pilot know.”
At that moment Seona emerged from the cubicle bathroom, her hair still wet, her tracksuit back on. She didn’t have time to take in the scene facing her; the co-pilot moved fast and grabbed her, moving himself behind and putting the gun to her head. She let out a scream.
“Ok, ok, ok, now mister don’t move any further ... who are you? Because … because you’re not the contact who is meant to be with her.”
Seona struggled against him, and he quickly put his focus on restraining her.
Luke used the lapse to gently check that the Browning was still tucked down in the front of his trousers. As his hand brushed past his trouser leg he felt th
e weight of the flick knife hit against his knuckle. He casually put his hands in his pockets.
Luke spoke calmly. “What are you doing? The contact that was meant to bring her had to rotate and leave the country by other means. You know how these things work, take it easy.” Luke played it cool. There was a good chance he may get trigger-happy.
“I don’t believe you; you want madam here for money. Well, you aren’t getting her, sonny!” snapped the co-pilot and as he spoke he pushed the gun into Seona’s ribs. “I am going to take her to the cockpit, and she is going to sit with us, locked away, until we land … any funny moves from you and I’ll shoot.”
“You’re a pilot. I don’t need to tell you what will happen if you shoot a bullet in here, it could easily pierce the shell, and then we would all be in trouble.” Luke knew that in films if a plane door is opened or a window smashed then everything gets sucked out. In reality it doesn’t work like that, but there would be severe control issues.
“Not if I put the bullet into you, then we don’t have a problem,” the co-pilot retorted.
Seona could smell the man’s stale breath every time he spoke; his hand was clammy on her neck. The co-pilot squeezed the gun harder into her ribs and forced her to start walking in an arc around the cabin towards the cockpit door.
Luke kept his hands in his pockets. If the co-pilot had any kind of basic training, the first thing he would have done would be to get Luke to keep his hands raised. With his left hand he was slowly unfolding the knife, feeling the blade and securing the mechanism that kept it showing. He watched as the co-pilot ushered Seona around in front of him. His eyes met hers for a brief second and he saw the defiance. Luke was running through every possible action available and then running through every possible outcome. He needed a clearer sight of the pilot before he could act. Whatever action he took, it had to be decisive and keep the pilot out of action, the last thing any of them needed was a stray bullet finding its way through the cabin frame.
“How much are you being paid?” Luke asked.
“Oh no, there will be none of that. You can’t offer me any more money so don’t even try.” The co-pilot kept moving.
Luke knew if he reached the cockpit and got inside he would be locked in the cabin alone, and the welcoming committee in Kent would have a field day with him.
As the co-pilot inched ever closer to the cockpit the hand the gun was in was shaking. His shirt was now wet with sweat. He is not a stable enough person to be carrying a gun. He would have to act soon.
Just at that point there was a click from the cockpit and the metallic bang preceded the door swinging open to reveal a tall, thin man peering round. The co-pilot and Seona shot glances at the door. Luke knew it was time.
He let the blade slide into his left hand from his pocket; in one rapid motion he extended his arm and whipped it rigid. Seona felt a rush of wind zip past her right arm, which was followed by a cry of pain from the man holding her. His grip loosened. Luke leapt up and over the table, kicking the cabin door hard as he passed, sending the other pilot crashing back into the cockpit and smashing against the control panel.
Without breaking stride Luke bore down on Seona and the co-pilot; the knife had embedded itself deep into the fleshy part of the co-pilot’s hand, poking clean through his palm, exactly where Luke had intended. It was designed to instantly sever the main nerves, making pulling a trigger near-impossible. The co-pilot’s eyes widened in fear as Luke reached him. Luke pulled Seona away with his right hand while simultaneously smashing his left fist just behind the co-pilot’s ear lobe. The man buckled and crashed against one of the front seats but kept hold of the gun. Luke used his right hand to twist and wrench the co-pilot’s trigger hand up behind him. There was a shriek of pain and the gun dropped. Luke kept the co-pilot facing away and lifted him to his feet; grabbing his hair and pulling his head slightly back he delivered a thunderous blow to the same lobe as before. The co-pilot’s body went limp. Luke wasn’t taking any chances and delivered a second hard blow to the carotid artery, causing a momentary surge of blood flow to the brain. As the co-pilot’s body tried to compensate Luke let the body drop to the floor.
Seona was stood against the wall, her hands trembling. “What are you?”
Luke didn’t engage her. He quickly pulled out the Browning from his waistband and moved round to the partially open cockpit door. Inside, the pilot cowered in his seat. “Please … please don’t kill me … please, I ... I didn’t want him to do it. I don’t care who you are, I … please don’t kill me, I have a family,” the pilot stuttered.
Luke levelled his pistol at the pilot. “I’m not going to kill you, and I haven’t killed your crazy friend either. If you want it to stay that way then here is what is going to happen. We are changing destination. I want radio silence if Kent tries to contact, understand?”
The pilot nodded.
“I want to hear the word,” Luke snapped
“Yes, yes, of course I won’t say anything.” The pilot didn’t dare look away.
“Good, here are the new co-ordinates: 52.0408, -1.09556.” In that moment Luke was glad of the intense memory exercises he had had to perfect for Group 9. He watched the pilot punch in the new co-ordinates and make all the necessary adjustments.
“How long to ETA?” Luke asked.
“Err … roughly two hours, give or take wind speed.” The pilot now only dared to stare straight ahead.
“If you close this door or use that radio without me, I’ll put a bullet through your head.” With that, Luke disappeared back into the cabin.
The co-pilot still lay sprawled on the floor, unconscious. Seona had moved to one of the sofas and adopted the knees-up position again.
“Are you ok?” Luke asked.
“Is he dead?” It was the only thing she could think of asking
“No, unconscious.” Luke moved to sit next to her. “We are changing course, heading for a different airport. A safer one.”
“Where?”
“Don’t worry, it’s in the UK and it’s safe. That’s all that matters at the moment.”
“How did I get here?” It was a rhetorical question from Seona. “Please just let me go, please.”
Luke did something unusual, he took Seona’s hand. “Seona, you have my word that when it is safe, I will let you go. I am not going to harm you, but we have to find out who Medea is.”
Seona didn’t say anything, she didn’t know if his touch felt nice or not.
The moment was interrupted by the pilot shouting from the cockpit. “You had better come in here”
In the cockpit the pilot had his headset on, as Luke entered he pressed a button and a voice played out of a speaker.
“I’m sorry but that’s a negative ZY4488C. Landing permission denied. Find elsewhere. Over.”
The pilot shrugged at Luke.
Luke took the co-pilot’s seat and put on the headset. He began talking. “Ground control this is ZY4488C, we have an emergency, repeat, we have an emergency. Request permission to land. Over.”
The same voice replied, “Ground control to ZY4488C. That is a negative. Repeat. Negative to land. We have a full schedule. You will need to find elsewhere. Over.”
Luke thought for a brief moment, and then began speaking in fluent French. “This is ZY4488C. Tell Aubert that this is Echo Ghost 9. Repeat. This is Echo Ghost 9. Requesting permission to land.”
The pilot stared at Luke. After a long five minutes the voice crackled over their headsets. “This is ground control. ZY4488C you have permission to land. Runway six. Over.”
They would be touching down in roughly one hour and fifty minutes. Luke re-set his watch for UK time. It was 6.10 a.m. Saturday morning, local time.
38.
Saturday 23rd July
You have reached the number for … Mulberry flicked his mobile phone shut.
There was now no way of stopping the panic. It was after seven and there was no sign of the second jet. There had been no word from
the operative accompanying Seona, nor from the American. It was a very bad sign; the flight should be well within radio distance. Mulberry had been trying to call both operatives for the past half an hour, both weren’t answering. He didn’t care about using the mobile phone; it had been de-tagged so that it couldn’t be traced. He was nervously checking his watch at what seemed like ten second intervals. It was 7.25 a.m. The American had missed his check-in last night, but Mulberry had put it down to incompetence or laziness. He had worked with the man some years ago and had seen his lackadaisical approach to his work, but he was incredibly well-connected.
However, now that his British operative had failed to answer his phone and no plane was even close to the airfield, Mulberry feared the worst. The man sat opposite him didn’t even seem to skip a beat.
“Something is very wrong.” Mulberry couldn’t hide the worry.
The operative just sat stirring his machine-made coffee; his grey eyes sucked life in rather than radiating it outward. He was calmness personified, and it made Mulberry uneasy.
“What could have happened? I thought you said you were tight.”
The operative stared deep into Mulberry’s eyes. “I was tight, and there was no one on us. That’s a guarantee.”
Mulberry wasn’t about to pursue that route any further, this man had a psychotic calm. “Then what the hell is going on?”
“It’s possible that the Yank could have been followed.”
Mulberry sensed the lack of conviction in his voice. “But you don’t think so?”
“No, there would have been signs the whole time if we had a shadow.”
Mulberry stood, and turned to face the runway. “So what is going on? You must have an idea?”