EATON SQUARE
LONDON
"Sir William, Mark would like to speak to you." Mrs. Jacobsen handed her cell phone over. "Can you please tell me what's happening?" The young mother clutched her child as she nervously smiled at him.
"What are you playing at, Sir William? Why are you involving my family?" Mark Jacobsen screamed on the other end of the connection.
Sir William returned the young mother's smile before he walked toward the school's entrance past her. "Listen to me, Mark. And listen well. I know what the game is and I am taking the appropriate measures. Say no more as this call may be monitored. Come to my home in an hour." He turned as four dark blue Range Rovers roared into the intersection. "I have to go."
Sir William disconnected the call as he approached Mrs. Jacobsen. "I've just finished speaking to Mark. He would like you to accompany these men to a safe location. Don't worry, this is just a precaution."
Marie Jacobsen gaped at Sir William as a senior military or police Senior Officer approached them. "Why? What's happening?"
"Show her your warrant card, Ives." Sir William commanded the bald officer. "There has been a threat against several key officers at the Foreign Ministry. We're just taking precautions. I'm sure it will blow over in the next day or so. So we're taking the precaution to make sure you and the wee one are safe. We have a lovely place in the countryside all ready for you."
The senior officer displayed his official ID as ordered. "Please come with me. We have two female officers who will assist you, but staying here is unsafe for the child, ma'am." He gestured to the second Range Rover. "Please."
"What about my car?"
"Chalmers will take care of that, Ma'am." Ives nodded to a junior officer who accepted the car's key. "This way, please."
**
As Sir William entered the car, Ronan glared at him. "What is Striker Blue doing here, William? Why are you risking exposing of our entire network? And why are we seizing Jacobsen's family? This is not the way we do things!"
"Patience, Ronan. Get us back to St. Charles. I'll explain when we get there. I promise you." He observed the caravan of four Range Rovers exiting Easton Square as the crowd of mothers and nannies clustered to exchange their version of events. "Don't they have children to take care of? What will you bet that half of these women will be squawking to The Sun or some other rag about their version of events?"
THE PATH
WEST OF QUETTA
"Listen to me carefully," Christopher whispered as he donned his boots. "In less than half an hour, several villagers will arrive to assist. We can only speak Urdu. These people only speak Arabic when they're praying. We will assist them to get the boy's body down to the village. Now help me and do as I do." He turned back to the motorcycle.
"Why are we whispering? That's not Sangar's village down there. Why don't we keep riding?" Alexandra stared in the direction Christopher had discreetly gestured to.
"If we did that, the jungle drums in this region would spread the news we left and everyone would wonder why we didn't stay. It's not the action of a newly married couple. What's more important is that I'm trying to understand what a small child was doing out here alone. They're no goats that he could have been herding and he wasn't near the almond or pomegranate trees. He had no baskets for fruit, so I don't think he was out here alone." He bent over the motorcycle and retrieved his AKS74 assault rifle. "Stay close to me and speak only in whispers."
YOU ARE READING
The Shaddad Conspiracy
Adventure“Your murder victim was not an innocent, naive woman. She was on our terrorist watch list. The fact that she escaped from Basra and lived a normal life in London buggers belief, but she was planted here by a foreign government to wreck the Taliban p...
