Silent Warpath (Sean Quinlan Book 1) Read online

  Just like old times, thought Lomax: the servant must always wait for the master. But not today. He spoke first. ‘Afternoon Andrews’.

  Andrews motioned Lomax to sit down. ‘How are you?’ The voice had a gravelly quality that had not been there before.

  ‘Much recovered and you probably know that better than me. Let’s cut to the chase.’

  A rasping chuckle erupted from Andrews accompanied by a brief shake of the head. Lomax noticed the deep shadows under the eyebrows and the paper-thin skin over the cheek bones. He looked decidedly ill.

  ‘Some people never change. It’s one of the things I used to like about you Lomax. Always straight to the point.’

  ‘Let’s just get on with it sir, shall we?’, replied Lomax evenly.

  There was another pause as Andrews assessed Lomax. He had lost none of his muscle tone while he was away. In fact up close he looked even more strongly built, exuding a powerful sense of controlled aggression. His relatively short stature accentuated a burly chest. He wouldn’t win any prizes in a beauty contest but he could win any bare knuckle fight going.

  Satisfied, Andrews pushed a file across the desk towards him. ‘We have a job for you’.

  Chapter 2

  ‘We want you to run this one as executive.’

  Lomax felt a jolt of electricity. He struggled to keep his face blank. More than a year ago he thought he had done with the Section. And the Section had left him in no doubt that they had done with him. Finito - or retirement, however one chose to look at it. They must have a very special reason for wanting him back.

  ‘Scraping the bottom of the proverbial barrel?’

  ‘You know us better than that Lomax. Do I take it you are declining my offer?’

  Lomax looked carefully at Andrews. A trick of the light made the man’s eyes appear like black sunken sockets in a skull.

  ‘Well?’ enquired Andrews.

  ‘You are giving me the opportunity to become an executive for the Section?’

  Andrews nodded.

  ‘Despite the fact that I’ve never been an executive before.’

  ‘You’ll have to prove yourself, like you did when you first arrived.’ Andrews took a sip of water but was unable shake off the hoarse rasp to his voice.

  ‘What about my retirement?’

  ‘You’ll have to leave that behind’ replied Andrews. ‘Do you feel ready?’

  ‘I feel ready, but I need to know why you want me back.’

  Andrews didn’t reply immediately. ‘You mean why we chose you instead of another experienced executive?’ he said carefully.

  Lomax nodded curtly.

  ‘Like you, we think you’re ready for it.’

  Lomax allowed a trace of scepticism enter his voice. ‘OK, let me see’ he mused. ‘You’re giving me a simple mission - one that the kid on reception could do. Perhaps with the idea of breaking me in gently, seeing how I go, with the prospect of a more interesting mission next time?’

  Andrews indicated agreement.

  ‘Bullshit!’

  Andrews’ eyelids rose fractionally.

  ‘Bullshit’ repeated Lomax. ‘That’s not what you have in mind. There’s more to this than you’re telling me.’

  Andrews remained still. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Before I make any kind of decision I need to know what this is all about.’

  A ghost of a smile flickered over Andrew’s lined face. Lomax’s perceptive comments confirmed that he had chosen the right man for the job. He placed both his hands face down on the table as if spreading out all his cards.

  ‘Then I shall tell you. But first I want to introduce you to your agent - also a man of considerable experience.’ Andrews picked up the phone and spoke into it. After a short conversation Andrews put the phone down. ‘Seems he’s gone walkabout’. Andrews grinned, ‘I’ll fill you in while we wait.’

  Sean sipped strong coffee from a mug. He had pulled a few strings and secured a place on an American military transport from Kuala Lumpur to Frankfurt, then by charter to Heathrow. A police car drove him all the way to HQ with flashing lights. The driver was curious but refrained from asking any questions giving Sean time to close his eyes on the short journey.

  One of the tea ladies had slipped some ginger biscuits onto his plate and hadn’t charged him. They always tried to mother him in the canteen, bless their cotton socks. Perhaps they sensed his loneliness but Sean only wanted to get the briefing over. Maybe they hoped he would agree to take the job just to relieve the tension he could feel building.

  Abruptly Sean left the café and made his way to the fourth floor, the main communications suite where they kept tabs on current missions. When he opened the door he saw Murdoch lounging back in his chair with a cigarette between his fingers. They had taken out the smoke alarm in order to let Murdoch light up – in direct contravention of any number of laws relating to health and safety. But the thought only made Sean chuckle – health and safety in his line of work!

  ‘Evening Murdoch, you still haven’t given up the weed then?’

  Ten years ago Murdoch was one of the best field agents they had. He was eventually caught in a sniper’s sights in the Far East. The bullet shattered his tibia and with it any hope of further action.

  Murdoch glanced round casually. His voice still held the soft intonation of the highlands. ‘Thought I might be seeing you again. I heard you were on your way over. What’s the matter – haven’t you seen anyone yet?’

  ‘Nope, they like to keep you waiting. How are you doing?’

  ‘Oh, so-so. Marie’s had a baby which makes me a first time grandfather. Can you imagine that?’

  Sean grinned. ‘I bet Margery’s proud. Listen, I don’t suppose you know anything about this job?’

  Murdoch shook his head. ‘Sorry.’ He hesitated. ‘I shouldn’t say this and you didn’t hear it from me – OK?’

  ‘OK’ Sean agreed.

  ‘I heard a whisper that there might be some action in the States.’

  ‘Any background?’

  ‘Sorry, this one’s classified to the rafters. I don’t even know who’s lined up for executive. All I know..’. He stopped as the phone rang. Picking it up, he glanced at Sean briefly before putting it back.

  ‘Well you’ll find out soon enough. That was the chief’s secretary - they’ve been looking all over for you. Andrews wants to see you right away.’

  ‘Thanks Murdoch. Give my regards to Margery and Marie will you.’

  Andrews skimmed through his notes. ‘Sean Quinlan. Second generation Irish. His parents were from southern Ireland and came over to England in the early seventies. He’s in his late thirties, maybe a little on the older side for an agent. He went to Exeter University and applied for a bursary from the Royal Marines during his second year. After graduating he entered the Commando Training Centre at Lympstone in Devon. Graduated second in his class.’

  Andrews noted Lomax was listening carefully. He continued, ‘rose rapidly in the ranks, showing a natural flare for resolving difficult problems. When he completed training at the tail end of the Bosnian conflict he began co-piloting medi-vac helicopters. He was promoted to Captain after Kosovo and then sent to Northern Ireland for two years followed by a short spell in East Timor.’

  ‘How did he come to be invited here?’ asked Lomax.

  ‘I’m coming to that’ replied Andrews testily. He checked his notes again, then resumed. ‘Various missions followed, probably the highest profile was operation Barras in 2000 when he took part in the rescue of British army hostages in Sierra Leone. Quinlan piloted one of the Chinooks carrying Special Air Service up country. After a second spell in Northern Ireland he was promoted again to Lieutenant and sent to the DR Congo as part of the United Nations peace keeping force.’

  Andrews stopped, apparently a little short of breath. After a few seconds he recovered. ‘I’ll let you have his file later. In the latter part of his career he joined the Special Reconnaissance Regiment where he developed a talent
for collecting and interpreting data from many different sources. Some bright spark suggested a spell with the SBS. Quinlan acquitted himself well, in fact he thrived in Special Services. From there he came to the attention of the SAS where he was seconded for a short period. That’s when the Section started taking an interest.’ Andrews looked up.

  There was a knock on the door, and Andrews rose painfully.

  ‘Sounds like he packed two lifetimes into one career’ observed Lomax. ‘He must be good.’

  Andrews stopped before the door. ‘He is’ he asserted. ‘He’s a bit touchy about some things, but then, aren’t we all?’

  As the door opened Sean saw Andrews, hand outstretched.

  ‘Sean. Glad you managed to get back so quickly’.

  The voice sounded hoarse. Sean shook his hand. The touch was cold, the fingers bony, like a reptile’s claw.

  Andrews turned. ‘Let me introduce you to Lomax.’

  Lomax stood and Sean felt his hand gripped tightly. Lomax was around five foot nine inches but there was no mistaking the musculature underneath the fine blue suit nor the steady gaze that seemed to be sizing him up.

  Andrews observed the interplay. ‘I’ve been giving Lomax some background – would you like to take a seat?’

  Sean remained standing. ‘I got an agent down message and was ordered to return immediately. I broke a load of regs to get back as quickly as I could but I’ve been kept waiting in the canteen.’ He paused to let it that sink in. ‘Will someone be kind enough to tell me what’s going on?’

  There was a brief embarrassed silence. ‘Take a seat and I’ll explain.’ Andrews gestured vaguely towards a chair and moved painfully slowly to sit behind his desk. ‘What you say is correct’ he continued, ‘but I’m sure you’ll understand the need to get all the assets in place first.’

  Sean stopped, knowing his anger was beginning to show. He took a deep breath and held it, aware how cleverly Andrews had manipulated events. The urgent communiqué, the long wait when he got here and now the glassy politeness were all part of the plan. He almost had Sean hooked.

  ‘The mission concerns the special relationship Britain has with America’ said Andrews.

  Sean remained quiet, unsure if he was expected to reply.

  ‘In actual fact the special relationship is a lie. While the politicians on both sides of the Atlantic talk about it, behind the headlines there’s another reality. Both countries have their own political ambitions and both are in economic competition with each other. That means each country watches the other very carefully - we know for instance that a certain amount of commercial spying goes on between multinationals on both sides of the pond.’

  Andrews coughed and rested a moment before continuing. ‘One issue our masters are keen on is technology - especially in the area of defence. It might not surprise you that we have several sleepers working right now in the States on a variety of projects. They’re naturalised Americans, or Americans who have some sympathy for the UK. They make reports via a number of covert channels and pass on low grade intelligence. The US are aware that we have these people though in most cases they are unaware exactly who they are.’

  Andrews took a sip of water. ‘Of course the US also has a number of scientists and engineers working in our companies and they pass back information to their intelligence services. We know who some of these people are, but equally we’re not so sure about the others.’

  ‘Right, I get the picture’, said Sean. ‘You're going to tell me that something has happened to disturb the equilibrium?’

  ‘One of our sleepers made contact and asked us to get him out.’

  ‘Is that unusual?’ asked Sean.

  ‘You could say that’, Andrews replied. ‘We rarely get requests like it since the so-called cold war ended. We don’t have the same networks as we used to.’

  ‘So I suppose that’s where I come in?’

  ‘Correct’, Andrews replied. A sleeper alerted London two months ago that he was onto something. I wasn’t here at the time. Then about forty eight hours ago we got a signal that he wanted to pull out. That’s when we recalled you. Then yesterday he went off our radar.’

  ‘And the sleeper is Ben Campbell?’

  Andrews inclined his head but was unable to keep the curiosity out of his voice. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And now you can’t find him?’

  Andrews gave Sean an embarrassed glance. ‘I understand he is an acquaintance of yours’ Andrews continued. ‘I’m sorry for the cryptic message we sent but I wanted to break this to you face to face’.

  Sean sighed. ‘Campbell was a friend, not just an acquaintance’ he said quietly. ‘I’ve known him since my university days.’

  ‘You kept in touch afterwards?’

  ‘We met again years later at one of the British Ambassador’s parties in Washington. In those days he was a rising star in the field of robotics’.

  Andrews checked his notes. ‘I also understand you helped him get the job he wanted’.

  Ben had wanted to develop his career with the American Underwater Research Institute. He had tried several approaches but was rejected every time. He assumed they objected to his British background as the work was highly sensitive, so he applied for American citizenship. But even then they wouldn’t accept his application.

  ‘I spoke to some of the guys when I returned home’ Sean replied. ‘Soon afterwards Ben received a letter to report for an interview. I don’t know for sure if that swung it but since then he hasn’t looked back’.

  ‘So - have you heard from him recently?’

  ‘I got an email a couple of weeks ago.’

  ‘Oh – what did it say?’

  ‘It was a bit strange – said he wanted to talk a few things over and was planning to come to the UK soon.’

  ‘Well – that fits in with our information.’

  ‘Is he one of yours?’

  Andrews’ lips drew back into a thin line. He hadn’t missed the implication of Sean’s last sentence. Obviously Sean felt he hadn’t been at the Section long enough to feel part of the organisation.

  ‘Perhaps I had better let Lomax continue.’

  Sean noticed how tired Andrews looked as he leaned back in his chair.

  The briefing papers were still fresh in Lomax’s mind. ‘He’s working for a software company contracted to the American Department of Defence. They provide code for several military projects involving remote control software. We suspect that he discovered something of real importance to us. He probably thought this was the only way he could tell us about it – by leaving the country under our protection.’

  ‘Do you know anything about the projects he was working on?’ asked Sean.

  ‘Not a great deal. The department saw him last summer when he came to the UK on holiday – he visited his parents in Yorkshire. You were in Mexico then.’

  ‘I remember – it wasn’t a holiday.’

  ‘No’. Lomax glanced at Andrews. ‘One of our chaps took him out for a pint and a chat. From that conversation it appears that the company he is working for was developing some software for a military submarine.’

  ‘Do we know anything more since his last signal?’ Sean enquired.

  ‘No, we’ve not been in contact. We think he may have gone to ground - either that or he’s dead.’

  Sean looked at Andrews and then back to Lomax to see if anyone would elaborate. No-one did. ‘So gentlemen, what do you want me to do?’

  ‘If he’s alive’, continued Lomax, ‘we want you to find him and bring him out. He knows you and trusts you, so that should make the job easier.’

  ‘If he’s on the run I may not be able to find him. Is there any kind of deadline to this?’

  ‘None that we know of at present. But he’s not been trained in escape and evasion techniques like you. If he’s on the run, he might not last very long.’

  Sean thought for a moment. ‘Just how important is this to the department?’

  ‘We think it’s very i
mportant. He’s been feeding us with the odd bit of info for the last four and a half years.’ Lomax paused. ‘However he’s never divulged anything which we might consider “secret”. If you can get him out this might be the breakthrough we’ve been looking for.’

  ‘So when do I go?’

  ‘I fly tonight and you go out tomorrow after collecting your documentation. ‘That is, if you want to go?’

  Sean could already taste the anticipation. The job would get him back into the field. But he still felt uncertain about Lomax. Sean had never worked with him before and something about Lomax’s absence from the department disturbed him.

  ‘I’ve heard about you’ Sean recollected. ‘You dropped out of the picture suddenly, about a year ago. Everyone was vague about why you had left. Someone suggested you’d developed stage fright.’ Sean meant that Lomax had lost his nerve, which was not uncommon when working for the Section.

  ‘I’m not surprised. There were lots of rumours flying around. Let’s just say I needed a holiday - some time to get patched up after my last job.’

  ‘You needed a year? You must have been injured pretty badly.’

  ‘You could say that.’ Lomax wasn’t giving anything away.

  There was a pause while Sean thought about that.

  ‘I’m not really here to defend myself’ Lomax continued. ‘It did take a long time to recover, but now I’m back and I’ve accepted promotion.’

  ‘Congratulations.’ Sean meant it – new executives were very hard to come by and only appointed on merit.

  ‘Thanks. Do I take it you want the job?’

  Sean looked at Andrews and back to Lomax. ‘Is there anything else I need to know?’

  Lomax shook his head. ‘You’ll get your briefing papers. They go into a bit more detail but there’s nothing more we can tell you.’

  Sean hesitated.

  Lomax waited a second. ‘The usual rules Sean. You can refuse to take this on once the briefing is finished.’

  Sean noted the slight quickening of his heart beat.