Mallet’s phone trilled. He nodded at Casey. ‘Get the laptop out. There’s a packet of information coming through from Six. We’ll go through everything in a few minutes.’
He moved away. Seguma flicked through a glossy magazine on wealth management. Webb sat and practised the art of silence. Casey worked on the laptop, her fingers moving across the keyboard at lightning speed. Bowman made coffee. Loader switched on the TV and flipped over to one of the 24-hour news networks. A French station, with English subtitles. There was nothing yet about a coup d’état in Karatandu, just two short segments about the continuing violence tacked on to the end of the main bulletins.
Mallet finished his call, the team gathered around the coffee table on the other side of the lounge from Seguma. They spent the next two hours running through the plan.
They studied satellite images of the palace and the surrounding neighbourhood, blueprints, the main routes to and from the building. Ideal firing positions, likely points of attack. Then they looked at the wider picture: the locations of the nearest embassies, crossing points to neighbouring countries if the shit hit the fan. Everything. They wouldn’t have time to prepare later on. Once they landed in Karatandu, they were going to hit the ground running. Hard and fast. The Regiment way. Every so often Mallet got up and left to speak with their liaison officer at Six. He was getting a near-constant stream of updates on the status of the diplomatic jets and the UKSF teams, the military escort waiting for them in Marafeni.
‘Jet’s half an hour out,’ Mallet said as he walked back over to the team.
Bowman frowned at the satellite pictures on the laptop. ‘This is a tough ask,’ he said.
‘That’s what Tiny’s missus thinks, every time he’s desperate for a shag,’ Mallet joked.
Bowman didn’t laugh. ‘There’s a lot of things that could go wrong.’
‘It’s a routine job. Get in, secure the stronghold, wait for the main force to show up and do the business, then get the fuck out again. Nothing we haven’t done a hundred times before in the Regiment.’
‘It’s not that easy. If it goes right, great. We’re heroes. But if we get caught out, it’s going to go very bad.’
‘Stop worrying, Josh,’ Loader said. ‘We’re not expecting a scrap.’
‘But we should be planning for one. If the rebels come at us in force, we’ll get clobbered.’
‘We’ve got those presidential guards to back us up. We’ll have a small army to repel any attackers. Forty soldiers.’
‘I’ve trained some of these teams before, Tiny.’ He glanced across the lounge at Seguma and kept his voice low. ‘They’re honest troops, and brave, but they’re nothing to write home about. We can’t rely on them in a firefight.’
Loader gave him a look. ‘Are you getting a bit twitchy?’
‘I’m just trying to work out what the plan is if things go wrong.’
Mallet sighed deeply. ‘The rebels won’t hit us hard. Even if they launch the coup earlier than we think, General Kakuba and his men are going to be focused on securing the critical infrastructure first. The family won’t be at the top of their list.’
‘Karatandu is a small country,’ Bowman pointed out. ‘The size of Wales.’
‘Aye. What’s your point?’
‘It won’t take the KUF long to capture the key targets. Sooner or later, they’re going to target the family.’
‘But by then, the main strike force will have landed in-country. The worst that can happen is that we’ll come under attack by a few opportunists who couldn’t hit a barn door at fifty metres.’
‘And if the rebels decide to come for the palace first?’
‘That’s a risk we’ll have to take,’ Mallet said.
‘Maybe you’d prefer to sit this one out, Josh,’ Loader said.
Bowman glared at him and set his jaw. ‘I never said that, mate. I’m up for the job as much as anyone. I just want to make sure it’s done right.’
Mallet’s cold gaze centred on Casey. ‘What about you, Alex?’
‘What about me?’
‘You’ve been as quiet as Patrick for the past hour. Usually we can’t get you to shut up. Are you sure you’re up for this?’
Casey folded her arms. ‘Why wouldn’t I be? Because I’m a woman?’
Mallet held up his hands in mock surrender. ‘It’s got nothing to do with that, and we both know it. I’m just asking.’
‘What are you trying to get at, John?’
Mallet scratched the back of his neck and shifted. ‘Look, everyone in the Cell rates you highly. You’re smarter than the rest of us put together, you’re skilled with the old cyber, brilliant at the tech and all that. But your books and gadgets won’t come in much use where we’re going.’
‘You’ve never had a problem with me going on ops before.’
‘This is different. There’s a small chance this thing could turn very ugly, very fast.’
‘I can take care of myself.’
‘No one’s suggesting otherwise. But if you’ve got doubts, you need to tell us. We can’t be taking passengers, lass, not on this job. No one will think any less of you if you decide to stay behind.’
Casey took a breath and stared hard at Mallet.
‘I’ve been trained in the same type of warfare as you,’ she said. ‘I might not have passed SAS Selection, but I’ve done the SRR course, which is the next best thing. I was the best shot in my training group, I’ve done surveillance work in war zones and I know how to fight. I’ll be fine. And I’m not your bloody lass.’
Bowman glanced at the footage of the riots on the TV and gritted his teeth.
‘Let’s just hope the timing on this op goes like clockwork,’ he said. ‘Otherwise, we’re all going to be in the shit.’
*
The Gulfstream landed at Nice at two thirty on the dot. Ten minutes later, a pair of diplomats strode briskly into the lounge. A man in his forties, six foot five, slightly stooped, with a bird’s nest of thinning brown hair. A much shorter woman with button-round green eyes
