Читать книгу Rogue President - D.K. Wilde - Страница 4

The sun tried desperately to break through the clouds. The door of the Gulfstream G650 opened and they stepped on to the tarmac at Heathrow, London. A bitterly, howling southerly ate through their summer clothes and whistled off the puddles scattered across the concrete and asphalt. The wind chill factor was well below freezing point and they raced for the warmth of Dunstall’s limousine.

“I haven’t been cold for so long I’d forgotten how bad it was,” chattered Crystal. She pulled her woolen coat tighter, around herself, and wrapped her arm through Wade’s.

Smiling Wade asked where they were heading. He heard Dunstall instruct the driver to take them home. The luxury vehicle was superbly heated and the power of position in society was evident as they approached the customs officer. The driver lowered the window, handed across the four passports, ensuring the MI6 diplomatic one sat on top. A female officer quickly scanned Dunstall’s passport and handed them all back without opening the others. Exiting the private jet charter area, they headed north then west onto the M4 until they met the London Orbital Motorway, M25. Afternoon traffic was horrendous. Vehicles were at a virtual standstill as they crawled through the Buckinghamshire countryside.

Passing the seventeenth century Newland Park Manor, a large well appointed mansion popular amongst the rich set for weddings, they approached the four metre high stone walled fence and fully enclosed steel gates. Two suit wearing guards parted the gates and the ten metre wide crushed white stone driveway, bordered on both sides by immaculately manicured lawns and rose gardens; sprawled out ahead. Wade was awestruck at the sheer size of the mansion that sat three hundred metres down the drive. The white three storey limestone building comprising twenty two bedrooms, two commercial size kitchens, tennis court, indoor swimming pool, gymnasium, dining room to seat forty four, helipad and an indoor soundproofed shooting range.

The limousine stopped under the portico directly in front of the huge double oak doors that served as the front entrance. An attendant opened the car door. Fiercely cold wind cut through the heated interior like an arrow. Snowflakes, caught up in the wind, altered the surroundings to a surreal mystical quality as everything started to turn white. Crystal climbed out and was confronted by three hulking males. Suddenly realizing she screamed in delight. She lunged at Sammy and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Sammy, the man mountain, black South African ex-Recces who had helped save Crystal’s life, was thrilled to see her again. Releasing her grip, she kissed him and repeated with Franco, the Spanish ex-French Foreign Legionnaire and Bud, the American ex-Navy Seal.

Exiting the vehicle Wade was stopped in mid flight. It hit him, like a hammer, how much he had missed his friends. The emotion swelled. Tingles ran down his back. Sammy stepped forward and grabbed him in his typical bear hug. “Hey buddy. We’ve missed you.”

Wade was lost for words.

“Come on, say something. Surely you haven’t lost the ability to talk,” he chuckled releasing his grip.

After many backslaps, embraces and words of welcome, Dunstall ushered them inside. Bringing up the rear Wade had already seen the sniper hidden on the roof. The gardener pretending to work the roses and the third man attending to vehicles in the open door garage.

The foyer appeared even larger than the front façade. Dozens of rooms leading off multiple hallways. A marble floor led to a large oak staircase that was four metres wide and halfway up, split toward the two wings of the building. A three metre chandelier hung perfectly between the split staircases. Walls were covered in pictures, artifacts, symbols and heirlooms that appeared hundreds of years old. Everywhere Wade looked something was either hanging, mounted or atop a stand. The presentation was picture perfect.

Wade pondered the impressive show of wealth and success. The butler dressed in tails. Two maids polishing crystal and gold antiquities. Two dark suited body guards. It suddenly struck him what had him at odds. He thought back to those outside and looked across to the suit wearing butler. They were all ex-SAS. The body language and demeanor was unmistakable.

Dunstall headed up the stairs as the butler led them to an informal meeting room. Closing the doors behind himself he mentioned dinner would be at 1900 hours.

The room was covered on three walls with floor to ceiling of books, all perfectly presented. Opposite the entrance was a centered fireplace either side of French doors.

“It’s great to see you guys but what are you doing here?” asked Wade looking towards his friends.

Sammy raised his eyes. Bud shrugged his shoulders. The laconic Franco opened his mouth to speak but was cut short.

“This is probably going to be difficult to get a grip on. So take a seat and I’ll explain what we know and what we believe,” said Plant.

The four men sunk down into the luxurious eighteenth century club lounges and Crystal sat on Wade’s knee. Plant dimmed the lights and two images appeared on the wall above the fireplace.

“The one on the left is Marcus Riol. The photo is four years old. He is a Sierra Leone national who completed a PHD in molecular chemistry at MIT. After topping his class and gaining employment with one of the top US research institutes; fourteen months later he disappears. We have unconfirmed sightings but we believe he is now the leader of the largest rebel gang in Sierra Leone.” Paused. “Apparently all his family, except for one nephew, were killed when US backed Sierra Leone government troops stormed a market place. This tripped him over the edge and he is believed to be responsible for some of the most terrible atrocities in the country.”

“And he looks like such a nice caring person,” said Crystal, sarcastically, staring at the immaculately dressed and groomed, late twenties, smiling male in his graduation gown.

“Don’t be fooled. Word on the ground is that he has shaved his head and has a mismatched red lightning bolt tattoo down the left side of his neck. He never lets his razor sharp machete leave his hands and is known to always be carrying a sharpened knuckle duster,” replied Plant. “Not much else is known about him because he has a massive network that keeps him hidden. The locals call him ‘The Vulture’ because of his propensity to hack and rip bodies after killing them.”

“What about the other guy?” asked Sammy deciding he’d had enough of hearing about Riol.

“His name is Dwight Alexander Cobart III. He attended MIT with Riol and they became friends. He never completed his studies and went back to work for his father’s company ‘Fundco Inc.’ His father, Senator Cobart, heads up the Senate Repatriation Committee. It appears his position as a senator has given him access, and a high level of carte blanche, to most of the major military contracts. He has made a fortune out of the funding and supplying of equipment to wars throughout the world. More importantly Fundco has recently acquired a prototype weapon.”

“What sort of weapon?” asked Franco who had always shown an interest in new weapon technology.

“A pistol that has a triggering mechanism and an explosive component activated by a chemical reaction. This idea has been tried many times in the past but it seems the Fundco prototype has ironed out the bugs. We now know this technology could be altered and implemented on a mass scale … on top of that, five days ago, Cobart junior and the prototype disappeared.”

Looking around the room at the four highly trained individuals, Plant waited for a response. The crackling of the wood in the open fireplace and the rain pelting against the turn of the century French balcony doors was the only sound. The men scratched their heads, moved in their seats and stared at each other. Crystal stood and walked to stand in front of the fire.

“So what is it with these two guys?” asked Wade.

“Riol is somebody you will need to be aware of while down there and you might want to limit how much you mention his name. Some love him. Some hate him. Most are just scared. Cobart, on the other hand, we believe is the lynchpin that links Riol to outside forces.”

“Outside?” asked Sammy.

“As in neighbouring countries, international gangs, weapons suppliers … Don’t be fooled we might not know much about these guys but we do know whoever is controlling the rebels has an extremely large force, albeit not that well trained, but still large and a large cache of weapons and these weapons need to be supplied.’

“And you think Fundco are it?” asked Wade.

“Correct.”

“How and when?” asked Wade.

“You leave tomorrow morning on Sir Roger’s private jet for Dakar, Senegal. From there by an unmarked Eurocopter Dauphin II to the USS George H.W Bush stationed off the coast of Guinea. Admiral Jack Plower, boss of the carrier and fleet will arrange for your infiltration, by HALO, into the Faranah Region of Guinea.”

“What story are we using for the Admiral? He is definitely going to know it’s something British if we arrive in a Dauphin (helicopter of choice by the British SAS),” said Wade.

“True. Sir Roger used his contacts through British Admiralty who in turn approached the US Office of the Chief of Naval Operations and they agreed. Admiral Plower is unaware of your mission but he believes it to be a search and recon.”

“What about this prototype?” questioned Bud.

“Basically the size of a H&K USP pistol that has zero recoil, massive muzzle velocity, low trajectory, accurate to six hundred metres and ten to twelve times the explosive power of conventional gunpowder. It can be laser guided, holds up to sixty rounds and each round is fifteen millimeters in length. The power is generated by a chemical reaction and there is no resultant heat transmission or residue,” replied Plant watching the expressions on the faces of the men, seated before him, who had fired most known weapons.

“Well that’s definitely different,” said Wade. “What about gear?”

“All in your rooms and ready to go.”

Dunstall had ensured Wade and his team had all the best equipment and technology money could buy. Each man had his preferred weapons, clothing and comms gear laid out on the floor. They dismantled, cleaned, oiled and reassembled the weapons. Checked every round individually. Utilised the indoor shooting range and calibrated the sights. Tested and retested night vision goggles, radios, headsets, throat mikes, altimeters, watches and anything else they would depend on to stay alive. Years of Special Forces work had taught them that being prepared was their and only their, ultimate responsibility.

Wade was surprised, that after five years, his command of weapons and shooting accuracy had not diminished.

“How do you feel about all this?” asked Crystal, sitting up on the bed watching her husband go through his routine.

“There are definitely a lot of things that don’t add up and I was sceptical of Sir Roger but I feel we’re doing the right thing,” he replied, waiting. Once again quizzing himself as to why he seemed to be able to read everybody he had ever met except his wife.

“Your gut instinct hasn’t let you down in the past so here’s hoping it’s right again.”

Wade stared as Crystal played with the ends of her hair. He thought how happy she made him at the same time her strong willed spirit was perfect for keeping him on his toes. Crystal had topped her class when she completed Naval helicopter training and this had earned her the opportunity of a choice of postings. She chose an active carrier group operating in the Pacific region. She loved the work and was extremely popular with her co-workers. One evening after her squadron had completed a very difficult but successful mission the team were celebrating in the officer’s mess. Two hours and many drinks later her attractiveness got the better of a senior officer who tried to grope her as she left the room and headed down the corridor. The stronger man forced her into a cleaning room. With one hand holding her hands above her head he forced the other under her skirt. Crystal bucked and as the man moved fractionally backwards she drove her knee into his groin. Crashing to the floor Crystal raced to her room. The ensuing enquiry, and after both parties had put forward their case, the tribunal found in favour of Crystal but not to damage a very successful career, of a senior officer, Crystal was transferred to a minor fleet. Many believing her transfer as proof she was the instigator. Crystal continued her career unapologetically until she met Wade and left the service.

Blushing she asked, “What?”

“Back at home you were going to tell me something, just before Joe arrived.”

Still fiddling with hair she watched her fingers moving. “How do you feel about being a father?” she softly asked.

Wade was stunned. His mouth opened but nothing came out. He sat. He stood and he sat again. “My god … really,” he gasped.

“Really,” she smiled. “I had the test two days ago and we are at fourteen weeks.”

“We?”

“Our daughter and I.”

“Christ … a daughter … my god.” He swallowed, choking back the emotion. “This is fantastic. How do you feel?”

“Great actually.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to be sure first. I hope you’re not upset?” she questioned.

“No, no, not at all. How could I ever be upset? This is great news.” A father. A prospect he had not even contemplated. They had discussed a family but nothing ever seemed to go any further than short discussions. Now here he was about to be a father. Would he be a good dad? Would he need to change his mindset? Military thoughts, especially the type associated with his work, would not seem something that would be beneficial to raising a child. He envisaged building a cot, cubby houses, toys, garden swings. He pictured the finished products. The colour. The excitement on his daughters face as she saw it for the first time.

The thoughts were coming to him at the speed of a freight train. One moment he saw Crystal and he walking along the beach swinging their daughter into the air with every second step. Kiwi barking in the background. Just as quickly, he saw her starting her first day at high school and at the blink of an eye he was watching her learn to surf as a teenager. He knew he needed to slow down but the excitement was racing through him.

Wade walked around the bed, bent down and kissed Crystal as he gently touched her stomach. “You realize this changes everything. I can’t go down there now.”

“Why? What’s different? I’m still the same person I was three minutes ago and you were going then.”

“Crystal don’t be silly. Your pregnant and I’ll be a father. I can’t go running around hunting down people. I have responsibilities,” he rattled off in rapid succession.

“I think you need to slow down. I understand this is a shock. Albeit a nice shock but still a shock. I appreciate how this can change things for you especially after loosing your mum and sister but I know that they would want you to finish this as much as I do,” she replied slowly and softly.

Wade watched as she motioned for him to sit beside her on the bed. They sat in silence for a few minutes with Wade leaning into her head. Did this change anything or was he overreacting? Was he excited or was he worried about something happening? With so many people dying and so much death throughout his life he knew his concerns were justifiable. But he also knew that aside from meeting Crystal this was the best news he could have ever expected.

“If you knew you were pregnant why did you want to come?” He questioned spinning around.

“I’m going to see my dad. I want to tell him, to his face, he is going to be a grandfather.”

“That is so nice. He’ll be thrilled.”

Two hours later after showering and stowing their gear they all gathered in the dining room. The room was palatial. Eleventh century suits of armour stood throughout. Five metre walls were adorned with various six and seven hundred year old fighting and jousting weapons. Wall mounted candelabra dripped their wax. The highly polished parquetry clicked under the heels of the serving staff. Two large fireplaces roared. A magnificent meal had been served, consumed and cleared away when Dunstall raised his glass.

“Gentlemen, and lady, I would like to propose a toast to the success of your mission and also to your help in finding my brother,” he said choking back the emotion. Holding up his glass, “Please let me know if there is anything else I can do to help and I will provide everything within my power.”

“Thanks Sir Roger,” replied Wade. “There is one thing … Can you ensure Crystal gets to her father, in Washington?”

“Better than that. I will personally escort her and ensure my team are on standby until you’re finished,” he said as the two men shook hands.

“That’s very nice of you to offer but if you could just get her there I can guarantee she will be protected,” said Wade putting his arm around Crystal’s shoulder.