Chapter 9
The phone buzzed and was answered before the end of the first ring.
“Yes,” answered Beaumont.
“We’ve just received confirmation that they’ve taken off. We have their flight plans but we’ll track them as well just to make sure there are no last minute changes.”
“Excellent. How’s everything else?”
“Lets just say Equatorial Guinea is not the easiest place to work in. The Guinean President, Benga, is a certifiable madman and control freak. He wants to know everything we’re doing, every second of the day.”
“I’ll have a word with him and remind him who’s boss. He rules at our pleasure. You won’t have any more problems with him. Anything else?”
“No, everything is on schedule. The ‘accident’ will happen tonight as planned and we’re just finishing the paintwork on the borrowed Migs.”
“Excellent and remember, failure is not an option.”
“I’m well aware of that, you don’t need to keep reminding me,” irritation crept into the Commander’s voice. He had only recently been transferred to work with this ‘younger man’. The Commander was unaware of Beaumont’s identity, he was just a voice from whom he took orders. Previously he had worked for The Chairman, known to him only as ‘the boss’, but he had been asked to move over to Beaumont and take a number of his best men with him for a short secondment. He was naturally disappointed with this apparent demotion but an order was an order. The boss had noted his disappointment and emphasised it was only because he was so good at his job that he was being transferred. He needed his best commanders for a very special operation being run by the ‘younger man’.
The Commander’s name was Smith and like every member of the Committee’s small and ultra secret army, his name was a pseudonym. All previous names, backgrounds and records were permanently erased on selection to this very special force. It was a truly multi-national force. Recruiters scoured the world to select the best candidates. Each candidate was observed for a period of time and only once the recruiters were truly convinced that they were right for the secret army, would the recruitment process begin. The process could take anything up to a year, with various tasks and tests being carried out on the individual. Only when they proved their complete and total allegiance, could an offer be made. The offer, of course, made no reference to The Committee. In fact, as far as each member of the secret army knew, they were still employed by their own country’s armed forces, only at a higher level. They all thought they had joined a top secret multi-national force which operated beyond the limits within which their governments could legally operate. Their training conditioned them to believe that the most obscure tasks had global repercussions and although they may seem bizarre, they were all designed to protect the national security of their own countries, if not directly, indirectly. With these beliefs, the soldiers carried out the most heinous crimes — assassinations, torture, bombings and many other horrors without question. Of course, one of the criteria for selection was a propensity for violence. They had found over the years that this made for a much more obedient soldier. However, the ultimate criterion was that there was no turning back. The real identity of each member of the secret army ceased to exist after their enlistment. Accidents were arranged, bodies and records were swapped to ensure their histories did not follow them.
There were over a thousand members of the secret army stationed across the world, trained to perfection and armed with the latest and most deadly weapons. Had it not been top secret, it would have been the most talked about army in the world, overshadowing even the SAS and the Seals. The Committee’s recruiters ensured they got the cream of the crop, only their rejects would be available to those ‘lesser’ units.
“Apologies, it’s just that we’ve got a lot riding on this,” recovered Beaumont.
“I understand, don’t worry, my men and I won’t let you down,” said Smith.
“Is there anything else I can do?” asked Beaumont.
“No, everything’s in place, please just make the call to the Guinean President and get him off our backs so we can get on with our work.”
“Consider it done. Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
As Smith replaced the receiver, he heard the phone ring next door in the Guinean Presidential office. A few seconds later the President’s booming voice exploded.
“How dare you speak to me like this! Who do you think you are?”
Obviously, Beaumont was being true to his word and whatever he was saying soon took effect as the Guinean President’s initial anger tailed off and turned to fear. The next thing he said was in much softer tone.
“Yes, I understand and please accept my apologies. Of course we’ll do whatever you wish.”
Smith turned to his deputy and indicated it was time to go. They had less than two hours to prepare for that night’s mission. The missile was still experimental and it was imperative that everything was done precisely or there was no telling where the damn thing would go. He had begged for another way to carry out the mission but Beaumont had been insistent, it had to be done by using the new missile.
Chapter 10
Donald, Rachel and Saki relaxed as the enormous plane lifted off from Glasgow. Alba One was more like an apartment with wings than an airplane. No expense had been spared. Donald joked that the only difference between the plane and home was the view from the windows. Their first stop on their whistle-stop tour of Africa was Gabon in Western Africa which would take just over 9 hours.
Less than an hour behind Alba One, the significantly smaller but no less luxurious Tom One had taken off. Its journey was significantly longer and would take over 12 hours.
“I want to make a small detour, if you don’t mind Kisho,” said Tom an hour into the flight.
“It’s your plane, where do you want to go?”
“You’ll see, but don’t worry, it’ll only add about 15 minutes to the flight.”
“Whatever, as long as you don’t burn lots of fuel, it should be fine,” replied Kisho.
Tom entered the additional flight instructions and contacted Air Traffic Control to request permission for his new destination. Permission was granted and Tom hit the accept button for the new course, resulting in an almost indiscernible turn to the right. The plane also began to drop from its fifty thousand feet cruising height and began to slow.
“I’m intrigued,” said Kisho. “It looks as though we’re heading towards the South of France.”
“You’ll see,” was all Tom would say.
Twenty minutes later, the plane began to level out. They were flying at just over 300 mph and were a mere two thousand feet above the French countryside.
The cockpit door flew open.
“What’s wrong?” asked Kano. “Where are we going?”
“We’re just doing a little detour,” replied Tom looking around. “Lela, come and see!”
“See what?” she asked as she walked into the flight deck. Lela recognised where they were and began to smile, she knew exactly where they were heading.
“What are you smiling at?” asked Kisho as he watched his little cousin’s face light up.
“You’ll see soon enough,” was all she would say.
Kano and Kisho watched as they cruised along the favoured playground for the rich and famous. Cannes, Antibes, Nice, they looked spectacular as they flew by.
“Now watch very carefully,” said Tom pointing ahead to the left.
“What are we looking for?” said the twins, increasingly frustrated.
“You’ll see,” replied Lela with a huge grin but the grin began to disappear as Monaco appeared below them.
“Tom, what’s going on?” she asked.
“I don’t know, she should be there,” he replied.
