MEDITERRANEAN
WEST OF CYPRUS
JANUARY 13, 2012
1948 HOURS GMT
The SOCATA TBM's powerful engine rotated a massive propeller which hurtled the six-passenger plane across the Mediterranean at a speed rivaling that of most small business jets. The aircraft designed for the Aviation Légère de l'Armée de Terre, ALAT, the aviation arm of the French Special Forces knifed through the calm night air effortlessly.
In the cockpit, Christopher monitored the GARMIN G1000 flight instrument panel as Sergent-Chef Lauren Didier began a controlled descent to skim the sea.
"Israeli radar, Laurent?"
"Oui, mon Colonel, the Israelis are the busybodies of the Mediterranean with their American friends. We like to tweak their tails. UNFIL flights are none of their business, once we have advised them of our times and routes, but they like to show off their capabilities. Thankfully, they have none of their gunboats within range and the Americans are playing patty cakes near Libya, so I will sneak you in as close as I can to Beirut, then I'll pop up to four hundred feet, and out you go." The young Special Forces pilot tapped on the instrument panel's keypad. "Twelve minutes. The sergent will act as jumpmaster."
Christopher swiveled in the copilot's seat and adjusted his wetsuit.
"Old habits die hard, mon colonel," Didier commented as he watched Christopher adjust his chronometer.
"Can't stand the digital crap. Sometimes old habits are the best ones, Laurent. If you have some leave in Beirut, I owe you a drink."
The pilot grinned. "Al Falamanki Restaurant on Monot Street in Achrafiyeh. I will be there in three days if you want to buy us a drink, sir."
"If I can I will, lad. How will you designate?"
The pilot tapped his headphones. "I'll designate the target twenty seconds out. I am sorry, but all you get is a door closer - no jumpmaster, sir. You have to count yourself down."
Christopher grinned as he struggled back through the narrow cabin to the copilot at the rear door. The other two passengers nodded as he passed without making any comments.
**
Fifteen minutes later, Laurent's voice boomed in his headphones. "Ascending now, Colonel. Sixty seconds."
The roar of the single engine increased its pitch as the plane began a sharp climb. Christopher gripped the door handle as he kept his right foot on his jump bag.
"I'll handle the door, sir." The copilot readied himself behind Christopher for the sudden blast of air that would invade the narrow fuselage.
"Two hundred. Three hundred," Laurent continued to read off the altitude. "Twenty seconds, colonel. Leveling off. Bon chance, Hooker."
The use of his old call sign brought an involuntary grin to Christopher's face despite the wetsuit's hood.
**
"A thousand and fifteen, a thousand and fourteen ..." Christopher continued his mental countdown. At 'a thousand and four', he stepped out the aircraft while clutching his bag to his secondary chute.
**
As the plane flew by, he released the bag and engaged his primary chute.
**
In less than two seconds, the canopy engaged and Christopher removed his hand from the secondary ripcord and focused on the looming luminescence of the waves below him.
He concentrated on the light blue strobe light on top of the bag tethered to his leg. From long experience, he knew he had less than three seconds to impact when the bag disappeared below the water's surface.
12 CHARLES STREET,
MAYFAIR
JANUARY 13, 2012
1958 HOURS
Commander Ronan Hawthorne halted at the library's door and started in surprise at the spectacle of his roommate laughing uncontrollably.
"Come in. Come in, Ronan." Sir William managed to gasp as he slapped his thighs causing the Newfoundland dog to sit up.
"Tell him." Sir William collapsed into another mini fit of mirth.
Inspector Alexandra Russell exchanged glances with her superior as she recounted her discovery. "Someone has changed Colonel Nobriega's childhood records. They have also reviewed Sir William's. What's concerns me, sir, is that it's the same person who inserted Miriam Hussein into our databases. That person has access to the Joint Terrorism Analysis Centre and our records."
Ronan helped himself to a cognac while his roommate tried to compose himself. "And why is this amusing, William?"
"Because the old master - that's me, in case you need elucidation - had surmised that those old codgers in the Foreign Service were up to something and now this charming young lady has proven it. What worries me is that they have engaged either MI5 or MI6 to help them."
"William, you told me that the PM is supporting this effort. I have had your word on it." Ronan challenged his childhood friend. "Why is he allowing his cabinet members and intelligent agencies to run rampant over this?"
"Ronan, Ronan, Ronan? Have you ever heard of Rudolf Hess? The Fuehrer didn't know that Rudolph was going to double deal, now did he? Poor old Bush Jr. didn't know that the evil Emperor Cheney was manipulating him, did he? Think of that little gremlin, Kissinger. Do you think Gerald Ford knew that the 'Metternich impersonator' in platform shoes was double dealing on East Timor? The man has been wanted for questioning on crimes against humanity for the Allende horrors. Look at some of our villains - Anthony Eden and the Suez Crisis in '56. Churchill and the firebombing of Dresden."
Sir William struggled to his feet and approached the decanter. "Everyone wants to buy an insurance policy or more power. My elder brother died in the King David bombing in 1946. The Irgun did it and claimed they warned us to evacuate the hotel. Ten minutes to evacuate an entire six-storied hotel! Ten bloody minutes! Thirty years later, their leader, Menachem Begin, became the Prime Minister of Israel. One man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter."
He waved his glass. "All the labels don't really matter. Politician, terrorist, freedom fighter – they're all the same power seekers. Innocent people die. Women, children and innocents die because of the macabre machinations of diplomats and politicians. In that one attack, the Irgun killed seventeen Jews, their own flesh and blood. Twenty six of our citizens died and forty-six Arabs."
"No, Ronan, peace has more enemies than fathers or mothers. Every bloody profiteer wants war. Whether they profit with longer terms in office or in influence or in filthy lucre, young men will die for the mistakes and greed of old fools. Didn't Herodotus say that?"
The Commander removed the glass from his old friend's hand. "You've had too much to drink. We'll continue this in the morning. Say good night to the Inspector."
"I'm not drunk, Ronan, but I am tired of the games. I recall the sixtieth anniversary of the King David Bombing in 2006. Do you know that the Israelis claim righteousness and continue to blame us for not evacuating the hotel despite everything that was proven? Every bloody lawsuit and international inquiry concluded that the warning was not timely, and yet they continue to try to change history." He shook his head. "Yesterday was my brother's birthday. Sorry."
He turned to face Alexandra. "I am convinced that Nobriega has built an additional Chinese Wall around his side of the operation. I want you to liaise with him. Ronan and I are too old to chase him down. Go to Lebanon on the pretext of visiting your parents. Find the bugger and keep track of him. I want him back in London in less than five days. This thing is coming to a head and I need him here. Shoot him or seduce him – that's your choice on how you get him here. Just make sure you get him here."
"Sir, I can't ..."
Ronan held up a cautionary hand. "We'll take care of it, William. Go to bed."
With a final wave, Sir William retired from the library.
"Sir, how do I find him? That man ..." She spat the words out. "... is impossible to deal with."
Ronan sat down and stared at the fire for a long moment. "Forget your personal feelings. What I haven't told William is that we have received messages that the three primary Taliban groups in Kandahar are ready to discuss ceasefire agreements. We need Christopher. He's the only person who knows the identity of the Taliban leader who is assisting us."
"Sir ..."
"One other thing, Inspector. Sir William, despite his outburst a few minutes ago, is not anti-Israeli or anti-Semitic. Just for the record, he was part of the joint Suez Operation in the 1956 Suez Offensive. In that operation, he fought with the Israeli 1st Battalion, 890 Paratroop Brigade. He worked with another Israeli Prime Minister in that operation – Ariel Sharon. His dislike is triggered when politicians try to apply veneers to heinous acts." Ronan paused to sip at his cognac. "And I am sure William is guilty of a few heinous acts himself."