The Alternate Ending

Covid - 19

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Covid-19

The

Alternate Ending

 

By

Kenn Gordon

 

Edited

by

David Cameron

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright © 2019 Kenn Gordon

All rights reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I grew up in the Highlands of Scotland and I became a musician while still at School. Then I made my first musical instrument at the age of just 13 years, an Appalachian Dulcimer. I joined the Royal Air Force at the age of 18. I served for 9 years. I worked at many of our secret establishments. Even during my military career, I continued to play in bands, as well as to write music.

When time would allow, I made guitars for myself, although most of these ended up in my friends hands rather than mine.

With the bands that I played in, I have been fortunate enough to have recorded 32 albums. Most of these albums were with my Irish Rebel Band, aptly named ‘1916’.

I later formed my own company making bespoke guitars (Gordon Guitars UK)

The pressure of running so many ventures simultaneously eventually took its toll and a series of heart attacks followed. So I looked for a new and more sedate way to direct my creative juices and writing thrillers fitted that bill perfectly.

This will be my fourth thriller and like the other Andy McPhee and Team Seven books, this novel is a mixture of both fact and fiction. I prefer to call this genre ‘Faction’. So any similarity to people in real life, is purely coincidental. Names and places may have been changed to protect the innocent.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Act 1 Page 6

Act 2 Page 16

Act 3 Page 19

Act 4 Page 21

Act 5 Page 27

Act 6 Page 32

Act 7 Page 37

Act 8 Page 39

Act 9 Page 43

Act 10 Page 48

Act 11 Page 54

Act 12 Page 58

Act 13 Page 61

Act 14 Page 64

Act 15 Page 71

Act 16 Page 80

Act 17 Page 83

Act 18 Page 87

Act 19 Page 94

Act 20 Page 98

Act 21 Page 103

Act 22 Page 111

Act 23 Page 118

Act 24 Page 127

Act 25 Page 142

Act 26 Page 146

Act 27 Page 153

Act 28 Page 158

Act 29 Page 164

Act 30 Page 168

Act 31 Page 174

Act 32 Page 176

Act 33 Page 181

Act 34 Page 189

Act 35 Page 193

Act 36 Page 199

Act 37 Page 203

Act 38 Page 209

Act 39 Page 222

Act 40 Page 230

Act 41 Page 237

Act 42 Page 243

Act 43 Page 253

Act 44 Page 260

Act 45 Page 265

Act 46 Page 270

Act 47 Page 276

Act 48 Page 282

Act 49 Page 290

Act 50 Page 295

Act 51 Page 300

Act 52 Page 310

Act 53 Page 319

Epilogue Page 335

Other Books & Music By Kenn Gordon Page 340

Acronyms and odd words used in this book Page 343

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Act 1

After our last foray into the deep and dirty world of international espionage, that being some 12 years ago. Team Seven were now retired. We had lost our comrade and the head of SIS. After we had brought his body home and he had been interred on the grounds of his family home in Buckinghamshire, deep in the rolling green Chiltern Hundreds of England.

Back then, ‘Team Seven’ had been the UK’s, Secret Intelligence service’s blunt tool. That was then this is now, and we were all financially set for life. We all lived on Château Brent Bravo. At least, that was what my lifelong friend, Lachlan Henderson called it. So let me Introduce all of those, that live on the now renovated and previously disused oil platform, which was firmly fixed to the sea bed, in the North Atlantic by its three gigantic concrete legs.

Lachlan Henderson, I had grown up in Sutherland in the Highlands of Scotland with Lachlan. He was known to his friends as Lachie. He like me, now lived on our luxury platform with his childhood sweetheart Morag. She was now his wife. Lachie like me, had in our previous life, been in the military. That was before both of us were seconded into SIS and their Black Door operations section. Then he had been a sergeant in the Royal Air Force Regiment. He had been planning to make the move over to the SAS. That was before our days in SIS.

Lachie was the archetypal Scottish Highlander, standing six feet four in his stocking soles. He had a mane of ginger blonde hair, which he tied back in a ponytail, this went with an equally impressive long and bushy beard to go with it. Normally he would be dressed in a kilt and blouse shirt.

His wife Morag, well, she had taken on the duty of second chef and general helping hand. This was on an as and when required basis. Morag was a true Highland lass. Her hair almost matched that of Lachie. A mass of strawberry blonde hair that was full of curls which cascaded down the full length of her back. Morag loved to knit and sew. She like Lachie tended to wear tartan, only in a more modern style. Her soft Highland accent complimented Lachie’s.

Lachie had originally hailed from the West Coast Scottish island Of Benbecula. His father, who had previously worked on the island as a shepherd, had moved to the Scottish mainland and to the small village hamlet of Kinbrace. This was primarily because Lachie’s parents had divorced. So I had met Lachie when we were little more than toddlers.

My father had been the head forester on the Auchentoul Estate and our house stood on the side of the rugged hillside location of Old Kinbrace farm. Lachie and his father had then lived in the old shepherds cottage in Kinbrace. So we went to school together, Joined the military together. Then both of us were seconded to SIS together. Finally ending up on in this our remote home on Brent Bravo oil platform.

Its quite a long story how we ended up on our three legged island in the middle of the North Sea, so I will save that for another time.

We had spent literally millions of pounds changing it from a disused and somewhat rusty oil platform, upon which a hundred or so men, previously used to live and work. We changed it into what could best be described as a six star stately home, with all the trappings of modern life on the inside. Externally it still looked from a distance, to be a disused oil rig. That was the way we liked it. Private and comfortable.

Petrá, she was my wife. Petrá. was what you could call petite and slim, not that skinny kind of slim. She had curves and they were all in the right places. Standing at a little over five foot two her head barely came up to my chin. She had beautiful fire coloured hair, which when the breeze caught it in the sunlight, it was like looking into a blazing fire. It was her eyes that first attracted me to her. I had never seen eyes so green on anyone, or anything other than a cat. They were a shade of deep emerald and sparkled so brightly when she laughed.

Petrá and I had initially met during our second operation for the SIS. She hailed from the tiny and remote Faeroe Island of Svinoy. At this point in Petrá’s life, she ran a small Post Office come village shop. Team Seven had literally been stuck on the tiny island of Fugloy, this being island closest, to the one where Petrá lived. I had gone across to Svinoy and used her fathers Ship to Shore radio to contact the rest of our team to come and rescue us. A couple of years later I had contacted her, initially with the idea of looking after two children, that we had inadvertently rescued from the North Korean death camp Kwalliso 22.

Originally we were sent to rescue a family, from this prison camp and we knew nothing about the two newborn babies. However we had rescued them. Then after their parents had been murdered, we had taken on the responsibility to nurture and care for the children. Petrá agreed to become a surrogate mother to them and home schooled the kids. Well to be more accurate, when it came to the normal scholastic things, that had all been down to Petrá. Over the past years Petrá had completed several degree, courses in teaching. The kids had been taught a lot of other things too. Another member of our team Abdalla, had taught them everything about firearms, as well as teaching them Swahili.

Abdalla was a giant of a man who came to us from the Northern reaches of Kenya. When we first met Abdalla, he had been the firearms instructor. As a child he had grown up on the edge of the Masai desert. He had done well academically and due to this, he had won a scholarship to Oxford University in England. After he had completed a degree in social sciences he had returned home to Kenya and joined the Kenyan Army. It was not long before his talents with firearms were noticed and he was seconded into the Elite Kenyan special forces. He had been battle hardened fighting Sudanese rebels as well as Boko Haram. He had risen to be one of the best long range snipers in the world and a scary tally of confirmed kills. Abdalla had told us he had never harmed an innocent and he had only killed in order to protect his people or in defence of himself and those around him. Unless you knew Abdalla he was a fearsome sight. Not just his stature, which was six foot seven, but also the scarification that covered he face and torso. For all of his size he was incredibly gentle and a voice that came from somewhere deep within the bowels of the earth. He had been on loan to SIS when we first met and I had asked for him to be assigned to our team on the first mission

Lachie had taught them mechanics as well as unarmed combat. He also taught them Scots Gaelic.

Oran our resident geek, he had instructed them in computer sciences and source code. Oran was built like a stick insect and stood just five foot six tall. He looked like a hippie from the 1960’s. What Oran lacked in physical prowess and ability, he made up for in brain power. He had come to us from Iceland at the request of Hans. Oran had started off life as a hacker. By the age of 13 he was a member of the gaming crew Team17. The cracked the protection code on games and computer software. By the age of 15 he was writing code for the same people he had hacked into previously. By 16 he had hacked into just about every secure server in the world. He managed to make the FBI most wanted 10. Just below Islamic terrorists. So he hacked their server and that of Homeland Security. Then he wiped out every record that he ever existed. He was only caught by Hans in a sting operation. Hans had promised to protect him as long as he worked solely for the Icelandic Government and the Icelandic Defence Force.

We had lost our own computer expert and Hans offered Oran up as a replacement. Oran who had no middle or last name, came with a gigantic dog. A Caucasian Shepherd dog called Cyber. He was Oran’s personal protector. Oran like the twins he had joined us towards the middle of our second mission, having taken the place of our resident communications expert. Jane Miller, she had been my significant other at that juncture in my life. Jane had been killed by a member of the now defunct Neo Nazi Organisation, GRH.

Hans, he was our pilot, had had given them lessons in Survival as well as teaching them Icelandic. Hans had been on loan to the SAS teaching Arctic warfare and survival training. He had risen to the rank of Colonel in Chief to the IDF. Hostage rescue was also one of his expert skills so he was the ideal choice when we were building Team Seven. Like Abdalla he stood a tad under six feet seven inches. There could not have not have been two more similar and yet opposite figures than Hans and Abdalla. Hans was very fair skinned and had blonde hair. His eyes were a deep and almost fluorescent blue, when compared to his lily white skin. Hans had a classic A frame to his body and was every bit as muscular as Abdalla.

Stu owned the Catherine May II, which was our supply vessel. He taught them all they would ever need to know about the sea and how to navigate by the stars. Stuart McCormack or Stu to his family and friends had been the deck hand on the original Catherine May. He had worked for his then girlfriends father, Sandy Mackay. Sandy owned the boat. At the end of the first mission, Sandy’s boat had been destroyed. But SIS had replaced it with a much better and new steel hulled boat. When Stu married Sandy’s daughter Morag, Sandy had given the boat to them as a wedding present.

Rosemary, she was Stu’s wife and our chef on every mission. She instructed them in the fine art of cooking. Rosemary was from the fishing village of Keiss in Caithness and had worked first as a kitchen maid and then as a chef, for Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother, at her Highland residence of Mey Castle, which like Keiss was also in Caithness. So she was fantastic cook

I had taught them the basics of medicine.

The children had grown up, living on the rig with us and they were now 19 years old. Both of them were studying at university.

Finn was doing a degree in Engineering Sciences, while his sister Anía was in the second year of her degree in Marine Biology.

Petrá and I were the official parents of the twins. The Twins, we would collect and bring back to the rig as and when they wished us to. This tended to be during summer and winter breaks

We had all mourned Jane and her father, who having witnessed his daughters death, had taken his own life shortly thereafter. So much blood had been spilled on that mission, most of which came from people we never even knew the names of.

Cyber, was a Caucasian Shepherd dog. It sounds like it should have been something like, a small Collie dog. This Ovcharka, was probably a closer relative of a Grizzly bear, than it was to a normal dog. Cyber was anything but normal, he was even big for the breed, weighing in at an incredible 160 pounds. To look at, he was a mass of thick fur. This double layered coat, made him look even bigger, than his mass. His head resembled that of a bear and he had the teeth to match. This was Oran’s bodyguard. Cyber came with Oran but now belonged to everyone of us on the rig. Cyber was as soft and gentle as they come, at least with us. Like us, this Ovcharka was also a trained killer. He had killed a man on our last mission. Cyber had done so, with a single phrase from his master.

Abdalla was a giant of a man and at 230 pounds of pure muscle, not a man you would want to pick a fight with. His voice was a pure and silky bass, the sort that made Barry White, sound like a boy soprano. His face, back and arms were covered in tribal scarifications. This gave him a mystique that women seemed to find attractive. All but one of the scars to his face had been done prior to puberty. However there as a two inch scar that he had received in one of the many firefights that we had gone through in our missions.

We first met with Abdalla, when he was our firearms instructor, at the secret underground shooting range, near CDE Porton Down. He was probably one of the best long range snipers in the world as well as being SIS’s foremost expert on anything remotely firearms related. At the end of our last mission over 12 years ago he had brought his childhood sweetheart with him and later to be his wife, onto the rig where he had married her in a private ceremony.

Basoos was Abdalla’s wife and like him followed the faith of Islam. She like her husband, was a moderate kind of Muslim and they both took to their daily prayers at the same time. They thought their faith, was the true one, in the same way that Christians or Jews believe theirs to be. Abdalla accepted that we had our belief, and he had his.

Basoos loved to dress in western clothes and she looked great in them too. Like Abdalla she bore a similar scarification to her face, although hers was unspoiled. The only sign outwardly, of her faith, was a headscarf that she wore loosely over her hair. Since coming to our home above the waves, she and Petrá along with Morag had all become the best of friends

There were others who you could say were part time members of Team Seven. Hans’s nephew Karl, was like a younger clone of Hans. He like his uncle was a pilot with the IDF but unlike his uncle he was still a serving member of Iceland’s Military.

Hans previously in his position, at his last official post some 12 years ago. Was to NATO Headquarters, as the Officer in charge of the Service General du Renseignement. To which we had all been assigned whilst on that mission, to rescue Sir Philip Reeves Johnson.

The GDR was the highly secretive investigation branch of NATO. Our mission had been successful but unfortunately Sir Philip, who was known to Team Seven as ‘The Suit’ primarily due to his penchant for wearing good quality Harris Tweet suits. He had died, while he was avenging those who had wronged him. Sir Philip, died as he had lived, with dignity, honour and bravery. Shortly after this mission, Hans had resigned his post and taken to civilian life and now lived in his home village on the North coast of Iceland.

Hans’s nephew Karl, who was still in the military, had in the last year he had been promoted to Colonel. Both he and Hans were fantastic pilots and could fly anything from fixed wing to helicopters and everything in-between.

There were other members of the old Team Seven and they were true civilians, and they had helped us not only save the world, but to bring down corrupt and evil men. Stuart and Rosemary now husband and wife, they owned the highly modified 170 foot fishing boat called the Catherine May II. The first Catherine May, having been destroyed in our initial mission for SIS. Stu was a friend of myself and Lachie, from our schooldays. Stu had modified the new Catherine May and made it into a luxury fishing boat, which he hired out, with himself and his wife Rosemary to the rich and famous. These were the sort of people who wished to deep sea fish with Rod and Line. The boat had the quality of a five star hotel as well as the power of a high powered speedboat.

My father along with Lachie’s dad had taken both his and my dog, to the Faroe Islands with them. They both lived in the house with adjoining shop that had previously belonged to Petrá. Our parents did not need the shop to make a profit, they both had funds enough to see their life out in luxury. So between fishing from the shore and doing nothing, they kept the shop going for the dozen or so residents of the Island. Now we just had the one dog living on the rig and that was the gigantic bear dog that was Cyber.

Life was pretty damn good for us. Stu and Rosemary resupplied us on a weekly basis. We always had fresh fruit, vegetables and dairy goods. Our home on three gigantic concrete legs that were attached to to sea bed, provided us with ample accommodation. Most nights we would gather in our large lounge, come bar and watch a movie whilst sipping our favourite tipple. The bar had been a direct copy of the one, that we had been partly responsible for the destruction of in Iceland. So it had lots of burnished mahogany and brass, Behind the bar and through a set of swing doors was our huge kitchen that Rosemary had personally designed. In the middle of this kitchen was an island table, made from a massive slab of aged teak, capable of seating 20 people. On the odd occasion, there had been a few more.

We lived a life that few people, even get to look at. To some it might appear that we were in a self imposed prison out in the North Atlantic. To us though, we loved the solitude and privacy that it provided us.

The first floor of Château Bravo was mostly recreational areas. To go with our kitchen and lounge bar, there was a gym and even a small indoor swimming pool, we had an Astro-Turf lawn and large ornamental flower borders. The next level up was our personal accommodation apartments. They were huge by any standard and like the rest of the platform, luxurious with triple glazing, central underfloor heating and opulent fixtures and fittings. Each family had designed the interior of their own space. The only apartment that did not look like a penthouse suite, of a sultan’s palace was Oran’s. His space was an extension of our communications centre. It had just about every gadget you could imagine. Three massive 80 inch computer monitors almost filled one wall and an ultra high tech gaming chair sat in the middle of the room. Then there were the almost floor to ceiling speakers the festooned the four corners of his main living space. So this was Oran’s and Cyber’s space.

We would eat our evening meal together as a family, ensuring that we were not isolated from each other on our palace almost 100 feet above the waves. The next floor up contained more accommodation with a selection of three bedroomed apartments. This was used by our extended family and friends. Apart from our personal accommodation, we had 10 other apartments for friends and guests. Each level also contained open garden areas. The top deck contained some offices and storerooms as well as our personal armoury. There was a cantilever helicopter deck to the side of the top floor. Our power came from a mixture of wave generators, solar power, wind and occasionally it would be boosted with additional power from a large diesel generator. One of the major adjustments we had made to the platform, was to add an elevator. Originally there had been a cage lift, that was winched up from the sea below to the bottom platform. This had been used, to resupply the rig when it had been a functional oil platform. During our upgrades to this disused oil platform, we had a company from the United Arab Emirates install a new elevator, inside one of the three gigantic hollow legs. At the same time we had them construct a large triangular floating dock, this was nestled between the three main supports. Consequently it was much easier for Stu and Rosemary to not just to resupply but also to tie up the Catherine May.

Life was as close to perfection as I thought it could get for us. There were occasional shopping trips to the mainland, for things other than food or diesel. We would go down to Inverness or London to take in a show. The girls could get their hair done. Rosemary had previously cut the men’s hair when required. Lachie however, refused to lose his mane or have his beard trimmed. This was part of his character now. Even when we would go ashore he would not have it cut, but he would allow Morag to tie it back neatly in a long ponytail. His beard was tied together in an almost similar fashion. Lachie would on our trips ashore, would wear full highland dress complete with sporran and Prince Charlie jacket.

None of us ever liked to go out completely unarmed. Of late though, we had left our guns at home. We would only take a Busse or KaBar tactical knife in a calf sheath or on a belt clip behind our backs. Lachie liked to wear a double sgian dubh, one in the top of each of his woollen socks.

Normally a sgian dubh, would be worn as a purely ornamental addition to Highland dress and would not actually be functional. Lachie nevertheless had used the ornamental handles from a pair of dress sgian dubh and attached them to the blades of a pair of KaBar combat knifes. As such they not only looked the part, with their silver and jewel encrusted handles but they were serviceable too.

As for me? Well I am Andy McPhee the appointed leader of our little band of comrades and friends. Previously in my military career I had been a medic. That was of course before SIS turned me into a hired assassin for them.

Now it was almost 12 years later, I had not fired a shot in anger. Not since we had rescued ‘The Suit’. Sure we kept up our skills by target practice. The weapon I had become most skilled in using was the AS50 sniper rifle, which when fitted with the BAE electronic scope, could take down a target from as far away as two miles. Not that I had actually done so. I had however managed a kill shot from almost a mile. But that was a life before the one I lived now.

Act 2

I had been sat on the floating dock with Lachie. We would sometimes go down and fish as a way of gentle relaxation. We didn’t need the fish, it was just another competitive thing that we did. Ever since I can remember Lachie and I, were always in competition with one and other. It was all done in fun. We made it a competition but without a serious finale. Even choosing where, when, and what we did, was the result of rock, paper scissors.

So we were fishing in an almost unseasonable flat calm of February. The Sun was shining down for a baby blue cloudless sky. A light breeze was blowing up from the south, and it was warm enough for us to be sat, wearing shorts and tee-shirts with our legs dangling over the edge of the dock and the crystal clear sea below.

This far out to sea, even a small amount of bait would bring shoals of mackerel and herring with the occasional cod making an appearance. I was in a world of my own when Oran came running out of the lift with Cyber by his side.

Looking at Cyber, I could see how his snout hair had turned to a grey and white, where previously they had been black and brown. I was not sure how long Caucasian Sheep dogs lived but I knew as a general rule, the bigger the dog the shorter the life. I also knew that Cyber would still give his last breath to protect his master. They had an unbreakable bond that would last until the end.

Oran hurried over to where we were sat.

“Andy, I have a blip on the radar heading our way. Its not on any normal airline path and it is flying way too low to be a commercial flight. I hacked into RAF Lossiemouth, and they have no sorties out here today. So I thought I would come and let you know” He said

One of the many things that we had installed along with a radar system, was a semi automated missile defence. All aircraft have a responder that tells you where it is from. That includes military planes. So we would know, not to shoot down a jumbo jet or an RAF fighter on a routine sortie.

“Where’s it coming from and how big is it?” I asked while reeling in my now baitless hook.

“It coming from the north. It’s pinging as an Airbus ACH-160. But I cant find out who owns it or where they are going. They don’t seem to have a registered flight-plan for it either. Do you want me to activate the defence system?” Oran asked while Lachie collected up our fishing equipment.

“How fast is it coming in?”

“Its clocking around 175 miles an hour?”

“What do you think Lachie? Civil or military?” I asked as we walked towards the lift.

“I think if it were a military bird it would be going faster than that. Are you sure its not a chopper from one of the many oil rigs out here. We are almost in line for Dyce Airport. They could be slightly off course?” I asked

“You know me Andy I always prefer to err on the side of caution. How long before it gets here?” Lachie said.

“At it present rate about three or four minutes” Oran said

“Best get ready then.” I said as we got in the elevator and selected the first deck. As soon as the elevator doors opened we quickly went to Oran’s grotto which looked like the Star Ship Enterprise’s computer console.

“OK Oran bring the missile system online and lock onto the target but lets see if they are a threat or not, before we launch a missile at it.”

We had practised this a thousand and one times and never once had we had to launch any of our Missiles. Almost all of the arms that we had, we either ‘borrowed’ from SIS or captured from those who had stupidly tried to take us out. During our time with SIS, we had killed dozens of men in battle. Some we had tortured, this was not something I was proud of, it was just another fact of war. I had executed one man, in order that a bio weapon could not be made and then used on the world. Again this had been another fact of war. Yet it was the only one that had bothered me. I never saw his face in my dreams. It was always the back of his head right up to the point where I had sent a soft nosed 9mm round through his brain. The only face I ever saw in my haunted dreams was that of Sir Philip. I always saw him on the prow of the borrowed luxury yacht, when we were attacked by Somalian pirates. They had stupidly tried to steal our boat. Their mistake, as we we already out hunting for bear, not them, another bigger and more dangerous kind, who we had just dispatched into the next world. So when they attacked us, we ripped all the boats and bodies to shreds, as we ran them down. They had been no match for us. They came at us shooting their ancient AK-47’s wildly, their small boats bouncing over the waves. They had no hope of acquiring a target. We however were sailing in a large super yacht on loan, from a nameless prince of the UAE. We had launched a counter attack, using a pair of Mini 9mm rail guns and a 50mm machine gun. The damage inflicted by the sheer volume of led hitting a skinny, would be pirate was complete. Bodies were shredded along with the boats that carried them. Their blood turned to a red mist that would rain down on their boats, before both were lost to the depths of the sea.

Sir Philip had the classic pose standing on the prow of our boat. Firing his 9mm Browning semi automatic pistol. Several times during the firefight, I watched as he had dropped out an empty magazine before inserting a new full one. His shots were measured and always accurate. The firefight had ended while the smell of cordite still filled the air. The rail guns whistled and had wound down. We all seemed to have come through it safely. Sir Philip turned round to face us. He took a single step and fell to one knee before the other leg collapsed from under him. A stray round from one of the pirates AK-47’s, had ricocheted off something and it had struck Sir Philip to the right hand side of his midriff, before tearing through his liver and ripping a hole in his back. The wound was catastrophic. I knew it the moment I saw it. I had run to catch him, before he could complete his fall to the deck. I cradled him as the life left his body. He had died as he had lived a true soldier. His was one of faces, I perpetually saw in my dreams.

The other face that haunted me, was that of Jane Miller. Jane had in the life before I met her, personal assistant to Sir Philip Reeves-Johnson in SIS. I met Jane shortly after my home had been remodelled by a rouge member of Mossad. Then Jane had joined our team. The Catherine May had been captured by members of God’s Right Hand, a Neo Nazi group intent upon putting the world back 100 years. We had retaken the Catherine May. However Jane was being held hostage by the sole surviving member of GRH on our boat. He had never intended to shoot Jane and was just using her for cover. The man had one of our pistols held against Janes head. Abdalla had made sure all of our weapons had a hair triggers, to ensure smoother operation during battles. Jane had just sneezed and the sudden movement had caused the firearm in the man’s hand, to go off. Jane had died instantly. The man had died a fraction of a second later. Janes, was the other face that I saw in my nightmares.

Act 3

“OK Oran bring the missiles online and wait to see if they contact us”

There were no switches to be pulled or leavers, it was all one computer screen that was laid flat like a table. The wizardly fingers of Oran selected an item on the touch sensitive screen.

“We are set. How close to you want them to get Andy?”

“Lachie?” I asked

“No closer than five hundred yards If by then they have not identified, then we defend ourself” He replied

“Bring up the camera and put them on the big screen”

Oran ran his skinny fingers over the monitor below his hands and A large monitor on the wall opposite burst into life. It showed a vista of blue on blue.

“They are three miles out and soon we will have a visual. From the look of things they are trying to avoid radar, as they are flying at wave height.” Oran said and then continued

“If it were not for our modified forward looking radar, we would have been caught napping. I bet that Dyce ATC don’t have them on radar. I wouldn’t mind betting that they have skipped below the military radar as well.”

Then he zoomed the screen on the wall which now showed a tiny speck, which appeared stationary just above the waves, but soon showed itself to be a helicopter. From this distance it was impossible to see who owned it.

Just then our marine band radio burst into life.

“This is your friend from Iceland can we approach?” The voice on the radio said

As soon as I heard the voice I knew who was behind the controls of the helicopter. The voice belonged to ex-Colonel in Chief Hans Gunnerson. Hans like Lachie and myself had been chosen not just because of those skills. He was selected because for his ability as a sniper. Although none of us had used that skill in over 12 years. We were all still fit and able men, even though our hair was beginning to turn grey at the temples.

“Come on in” I said as I pressed the transmit button on the table top mike.

“OK Oran you can stand down the defences. Let’s go and greet them properly”

Lachie led the way back to the lift and selected the top deck. As soon as we got there, we dropped the twelve foot safety fencing that surrounded the helipad. The chain link fencing we had put up as a safety feature, when the dogs and kids used to play up here. We lost far too many balls when there was just a four foot fence, so we made the taller one that we now had. The breeze up here was slightly stronger than it had been down on the floating dock, but was still a very pleasant day.

I could now see the light grey helicopter coming in at wave height. When it was about one hundred yards out Hans pulled it up sharply and the brought it in to a gentle downward angle before levelling off and putting it down easily on the cantilever helipad.

As the rotors wound down I saw that there was another person sat next to Hans. When they had removed their flight helmets I was pleased to see it was Karl, Hans’s nephew. Hans was first to exit the helicopter, and before he closed the pilots door he opened the rear cabin door. A man, who I had never seen before, removed the blindfold he had been wearing. Then he stepped out, as the steps at the side of the helicopter dropped down. He wore a Hugo Boss suit with a crisp white dress shirt, along with what looked like a regimental tie. After retrieving a small aluminium case that had been under the seat, he had previously been occupying.

Hans waited for him and then they both walked towards us. I was glad that Hans had made sure whoever this man was, would not know where we were based.

Act 4

“Andy I would like you to meet Brigadier General Sir Robert Peterson.” Hans said as he swept a hand towards the smart dressed officer.

“I guess if Hans feels it is safe to bring you here, then that’s good enough for me. So let’s get below and you can tell us what is so important that a senior officer and peer of the realm, finds that he has to fly in from God knows where and to do so whilst flying under his own country’s radar system, not to mention on a civilian private charter helicopter.” I said

I led them away from the helicopter and back towards the open lift doors. Lachie was helping Karl to offload some bags and boxes from the helicopter. I waited for them both to join us in the lift, before closing the doors and selecting the main platform floor. Apart from saying hello to Karl, we never spoke. The doors opened and we walked into the bar come lounge area of the rig.

“Hans, would you care to introduce us properly to your friend and to give us in insight as to why you have come to us? But first, where are my manners, would you all care for a drink? I am sure that the sun is over the yardarm somewhere in the world. Hans, Brevin?” I said knowing he had a taste for this Icelandic spirit.

“Please Andy, and I think Karl will have the same” Hans said and he got a slight nod from Karl.

Morag who had just come in with Petrá, went behind the bar and started to make the drinks. Lachie had his usual Laphroaig while I had Jameson's Irish Whiskey. Both Lachie and I had our drinks neat, Abdalla had his Havana Club with a single ice cube and a twist of lime. Basoos came in from the kitchen at the back of the bar. Like Abdalla she was a follower of Islam. Like Abdalla she was a moderate, occasionally she would drink a small white wine spritzer.

“Sir Robert, what can I get you to drink?” I asked

“If you have any Gordon’s Dry Gin, in that well stocked bar of yours. Then I’ll have that with a splash of India Tonic water over ice.”

Morag obliged and Basoos helped her to carry the drinks over table where we were sat. Once everyone had their drinks. Hans sipped his Brevin before putting his glass down on the table

“As I have said this is Sir Robert and he is new head of SIS” Hans started

There was an audible groan from the remnants of Team Seven who now lived on the platform.

“No offence to you Sir Robert, but don’t you think that SIS have had their pound of flesh out of us, Hans? We were officially retired when we finished the last operation. Not to mention we were assured that we would never be called upon again.”

I always knew we could never trust any of the alphabet soup. I liked my life nice and simple. The kind of life where no one tries to kill me, every time I turn around.

“Surely they have some younger men and women in SIS by now?”

“Andy if you would just let Sir Robert explain the situation to you, then you will understand better why SIS has called upon us to assist them” Hans said

I looked at Lachie and then to Abdalla they both gave tiny nods indication that we should at least listen to the new boss of SIS.

SIS is the umbrella for the British Secret Services that also included MI5, MI6 and a host of other letters that make up the alphabet jungle. Previously we had been seconded into the Black Door section of SIS. Black Door covered a wide variety of sins that were the off book operations. What that truly meant in real terms, was that, if Black Door were involved, then people usually died, a lot of people.

I sat back in my lounge chair and sipped some more of my whiskey. The new ‘Suit’ made some space on the table and opened his shiny metal briefcase.

“There is a reason why I have come to ask you for your help in an extremely sensitive manner.” He said and placed large photograph on the table.

“You know this man?”

I picked the photo up and passed it to Lachie who looked at it and then passed it to Abdalla. Who put it back down on the table. I thought recognised the man in the uniform of the Chinese Army. It was the General who had allowed us to use Chinese air space in order to gain access to north Korea, from where, we had rescued the Chang family out of the death camp in North Korea.

Sir Robert placed another photo on the table it showed a what looked to be a modern building of multiple floors. I picked it up and passed the around before it ended up on the table.

“OK I think I know the man in the first picture. We met him briefly about 19 years ago, back then he was a General with the Chinese Red Army. He was more of a friend to Sir Philip than to us. What has it to do with us now?” I asked

“He reached out to us, that is to say he reached out to the widow of Sir Philip, who in turn contacted my office.” Sir Robert replied before continuing.

“About a week after contacting us he simply disappeared but not before sending me an encrypted micro chip, which as of yet we have not been able to access. I have previously used an asset that Colonel in Chief Gunnerson had under his protective wing. He has since told me you might be able to access him.”

I guess seeing as how Oran was actually in the room that Sir Robert did not know what Hans’s asset looked like.

“I am sorry, I still don’t see how we can help?” I said before anyone could pony up on Oran.

“Perhaps it would help if I told you that The Chinese Army General was in fact a long term deep cover operative. He was just about to come back into the fold so to speak. Since you met him he moved up the ranks and onto the Communist party ranks. As you know there was a bit of an epidemic that swept across the world. In Most people knew it as the SARS Flu that was back in 2003 to 2005. SARS or to give it it long name Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome. As its name suggests it attacks the respiratory system. Initially it was thought to be some form of Bird Flu and others thought that it had come from Bats. Some even thought that it was feline in origin. The first time it was actually recorded in a human form, was in the Guangdong Province in the south of China. However really quickly, it was transmitted pretty much world wide. Since they finally managed to get a lid on it, there have only been a handful of cases and that was mainly because of accidents in laboratories. It was at this point they think there was animal to human transmission. It would not be the first virus to do this. Symptoms are influenza-like and include fever, malaise, myalgia, headache, diarrhoea, and shivering. No individual symptom or cluster of symptoms has proved to be specific for a diagnosis of SARS. Although fever is the most frequently reported symptom. It is sometimes absent on initial medical inspection, especially in elderly and immunosuppressed patients. Then it is followed by cough, initially dry hacking cough, followed by shortness of breath, and diarrhoea are present in the first and or second week of illness. Severe cases often evolve rapidly, progressing to respiratory distress and requiring intensive care. We mainly saw it evolve in areas, in which chains of human-to-human transmission occurred after early importation of cases, these were Toronto in Canada. Hong Kong, which is a Special Administrative Region of China, Chinese Taipei, Singapore, and Hanoi in Vietnam. There are currently, no areas of the world reporting transmission of SARS. Since the end of the global epidemic in July 2003, SARS has reappeared four times. Three times from laboratory accidents, those being in Singapore and Chinese Taipei, and once in southern China where the source of infection remains undetermined although there is circumstantial evidence of animal-to-human transmission. So when our man in China stated that this was not a naturally occurring virus, we ourselves, started to look more closely at it. We received a small sample of the virus from him, through a third party and we sent it off to CDE Porton Down. At present they have not been able to identify this new strain nor have they been able to synthesise a working antiviral immunisation against it.”

I held my hand up to stop him

“You said ‘New Strain’ that would indicate that this is something that you have not seen before? Or is it something you have seen before or perhaps knew about?”

“You were right about him Hans. Andy, if I may call you that rather than Mr McPhee?” He said and continued as if I had given my consent.

“You seem to have an uncanny knack of seeing what others miss. We, that is both Hans and I, along with our respective masters think that we are on the precipice of a new virus, that is far more deadly than the SARS Virus. The reported deaths caused by SARS was just under 800 however factoring in the Chinese ability to move the decimal point, we believed it to be closer to 10,000 deaths as a direct result of contracting that nasty little devil.” He stopped and looked as us.

I think he meant for us to ask questions. Team Seven had played these games to often with the spooks of the UK and other countries. So I let him take the lead and forced him to continue. He did.

“There are a few things that I want from you and your friends and I shall list them. You can of course as bone-fide civilians refuse, but I think when you hear the rest of what I have to say, you will offer your services and help your country out. No….. that’s not quite right. I need you and your friends to help the world out. In the centre of China is the District of Wuhan. That is where our own asset was working before he disappeared. He had a job working at the Wuhan University working within their Science and Technology Department. This is a huge university with a massive campus. Our asset was working on a project for the Department of Agriculture then inexplicably he was transferred to somewhere else. As of yet we have been unable to be sure of where. We received a mail from him and underneath the postage stamp on the letter was a micro SD card, of the sort that are used in mobile phones. When we tried to access the card we found that all the files were encrypted. As such we have been unable to access it, which is where I was hoping that Hans’s asset, would be able to assist us. A week later the General vanished and he has not been seen or heard of since. We, as I am sure you are only too aware, that is, all major countries in this world, work on making and modifying bacteria and viruses. The Chinese have lots of security when it comes to information, but when it comes to keeping viruses and bacteria safe within the institute, they are unfortunately sadly lacking. I, or should I say we, as in SIS, need boots on the ground and I need people who not only know what the General looks like, but who he also knows. So there you have it.”

I finished my whiskey. Lachie finished his. Abdalla poured himself a larger than average refill and drank it down in one.

“What do you think? Lachie?” I asked

“I say we get drunk and stay that way”

“Seriously Lachie!”

He just shrugged his shoulders.

“I can see that you have to talk this through with your teammates and families, but we are completely at a loss. I need to see what is on that memory chip, my boffins tell me that if I try to access it one more time and fail to get past the encryption, then the details of everything on it, will be so screwed up that no one will ever access it. If you could let me have a bed to sleep on, I will take your answer in the morning.

Morag made a bed up in one of the empty apartments, Hans and Karl had one of the other sets of rooms. After dinner we let them go to their respective rooms. Then we discussed it amongst ourselves. It was in the early hours of the following morning, that we went to bed. We had agreed to help Sir Robert out with the first part of his request. He could have the services of Oran but we would be the first to see what was on the memory chip, then and only them would we decide if we would help SIS any further.

Act 5

I woke later that day to the sunshine flooding in my south facing window. Petrá was still sleeping and snoring gently. I carefully eased my arm out from underneath her and headed naked for the bathroom. I loved to shower first thing in the morning, even if I were going to use the gym later. Then I would just have another shower. I slid the door to the shower cubical closed and turned the shower on to hot, I washed myself before turning the shower all the way to cold, then I stood under it for a full three minutes, letting the cold streams of water pound on my back. I towel dried and wiped the mist from the mirror before shaving. I dressed in blue jeans and a clean tee-shirt. Then I headed on down to the communal kitchen.

All the apartments had their own well equipped kitchens, it was just we preferred to get together and chat over a meal. Morag was up and was busy cooking bacon. Basoos was cooking lamb’s liver and kidneys on the other end of the cooker. After saying good morning to everyone I poured myself a mug of fresh Arabic coffee and sat down at the slab of teak. Lachie came in was shortly followed by Abdalla. Petrá, Hans, Karl and Sir Robert were next in, then finally Oran completed the table.

No one talked about the elephant in the corner until after we had all eaten and then Sir Robert asked the question.

“Have you had a chance to discuss it and if so can you let me know what your decision?” He said as he looked around the table.

For reasons that would take a book on its own to explain Team Seven had elected me to be their leader and spokesperson.

“We have decided, that we, would like to take it one step at a time. In other words we will use ‘Our Asset’ to decrypt that SD card. We will only decide on the second part of your request, when we have seen what is on the chip.” I said.

I looked at Sir Robert and I could see he was not happy about us having access to the information stored on the SD card before he even had a look at it.

“And after you have managed to see the detail of the card? What then?” He asked

“Well then we will discuss it and get back to you”

“I am afraid I cant accept that. What I was hoping for was you to lend your asset to my office and then we would be able to let you know more about the operation.”

“Let me get this right SIS, who have in the past, tried to kill us just because we possessed some information, that they did not want to share with anyone else. Now you want us to send one of our team down to England, to work for you? And we are supposed to accept your word and just trust that you, will not make our asset disappear and just keep the data to yourself?”

Sir Robert looked flustered and I could see that Hans too was not happy about, what Sir Robert wanted. I wondered how Oran was feeling.

“I am sorry I was told that Team Seven were the right people for the job. Hans assured me you would work with us on this issue” He said

“I’ll do it” Oran interjected

“No you bloody well will not!” I said to him.

I had no intentions of letting anyone from SIS wander off with Oran. They would do the same thing as others had done in the past. They would keep him and use him to steal secrets from other governments around the globe.

“Sir Robert, If you want us to help you, then you will just have to trust us. Believe me when I say, I am sure that we have been involved in bigger secrets that whatever it is that is on that SD card. Also I don’t trust many people in the intelligence community. We have been double crossed by SIS before.”

“I can assure you that we will not harm your asset nor will we double cross you in any way.”

Hans put his hand up to stop Sir Robert from speaking.

“Andy would you be willing to let Sir Robert be present while Oran works on the SD card? That way all of us can view it at the same time. Sir Robert?”

I looked around at the ex members of the ex Team Seven. We had all promised our wives that we would never again become involved with SIS or any of their sub-branches. Yet here we were contemplating just that.

Hans continued.

“Sir Robert, I can assure you that all of the people here, know how to keep secrets. Whilst all the files that SIS had on Team Seven were destroyed, I know each member and I can personally vouch for them.” Hans said

“Very well Colonel, If it is agreeable with Mr McPhee and his team, then I am willing for Oran to work on the SD card, under my supervision.” He said

“I don’t know if the others noticed, but I had. Sir Robert had called Hans by his rank. I wondered just how retired Hans was. I let it slide for now.

“Oran?” I asked

“Will I be free from prosecution if I manage to get the information on the card?”

“I am not sure I quite understand you Oran, of course you will be doing this work for SIS, as such you would be working for us, therefore you would not be breaking any laws.”

“So I can access all the servers that I need to?” Oran replied. Then as an after thought he added.

“Can I have that in writing? And how much are you paying me for this work?”

I knew it was not about the money we had more than we would ever need. I guess Oran just wanted to make sure that he had some kind of contract, so in the event of things going tits up he would then have a fall back plan

“Of course SIS will make sure your are not out of pocket in any way”

“That is not what Oran asked for Sir Robert” I said

Hans looked at me and then at Oran, then back at Sir Robert.

“I think what Oran and Andy are saying is they want a contract with a sizeable payment, that will show that Oran is officially employed by SIS and that whatever he does is in the remit of what he has been asked to do, without the fear of prosecution or being locked up somewhere that does not yet exist” Hans said, not taking his eyes off Sir Robert.

“Oh I see. It is a trust issue? OK what sort of fee do you have in mind for your work?” he replied

Lachie who had said nothing up to this point burst into life. To be fair I knew at some point he would. The thing about Lachie is, that most things in life are fair game for a bit of fun.

“So How much do you think would be a fair price for what on that memory chip?” He asked.

“Obviously if it contains what I believe it to, then that sort of data you cant put a price on.”

“You are saying it is priceless?”

“In a word yes.”

“Then we want less than it’s value but more than whatever it is that you get paid.”

“I am sorry I’m not quite sure I understand what you are saying” Sir Robert replied and Lachie continued.

“You don’t understand me?”

“No I do understand you.”

“So if you understand me, why say you don’t.”

“Yes I understand what you are saying. Its just I am not sure I know what you mean by it”

“So you do, but you don’t? Which is it?”

Time to stop Lachie from melting the spooks brain.

“OK Lets explain. Whenever we have worked for SIS in the past we always worked for a set fee. And always in the form of a cash payment.” I said

“Now I understand, you want a payment for helping. Right well that would go without saying really. How much do you normally get paid?”

Hans took up the reins before I could answer.

“Sir Philip always paid Team Seven a fee £1,000,000 and always in the form of hard cash.”

“Colonel that seems to be a bit excessive and I am not sure I could get authorization for that large fee, let along be able to deliver it in any way other than a bank transfer.”

“Let me explain” I said and continued

“Every time we have done work for SIS, someone tries to kill us. Also you have come to us, because there is nobody in the western world that can access the chip other than Oran. That makes him a very valuable asset. From what you have said you are also thinking about using us, as a team on the ground in China. Assuming we agree to that. So it is not just payment for Oran’s massive intellect, that you would be paying for BUT you would be paying us danger money.”

“OK I don’t seem to have a choice. So seriously how much is it that you wish to be paid?”

“The same as always.”

“£1,000,000?”

“Very well I will make the arrangement for that sum to be given to Oran.”

“No” Lachie said

“No?” Sir Robert replied

“What?”

“No? What I don’t understand”

“You said you did?”

“I am sorry you have me at a loss”

“I know and you still don’t understand”

“You said £1,000,000 to retrieve the data.”

“Yes.”

“So?”

Time to stop Lachie from putting Sir Robert, who was starting to look flustered, into a psych ward.

“What Lachie means is that would be £1,000,000 for each member of team seven.” I said

“I cant authorise that sort of money,”

“Of course you can, use the Black Door slush fund. It is a deal breaker. If we do this thing for you then you will pay every member of Team Seven the same amount.”

“Very well! But I need Oran to start work right away.” He said

“So I can use any means to access the memory chip?” Oran asked.

“Yes Oran you will be free from any kind of prosecution or imprisonment. How long do you think it will take you to access it?”

“Well that would depend.” Oran replied

“On What?”

“On when you give me the chip”

“Ohhh Right” Sir Robert replied and reached into his case and withdrew an envelop, which he opened and took a tiny SD chip out of. He carefully passed it over to Oran, who had his hand outstretched waiting.”

Act 6

Oran got up from the table and walked to the swinging doors that separated the kitchen from the bar. He turned around and said

“Well are you all coming with me?” then he walked out.

I got up and followed him, then the others got up and followed me. So this human snake followed Oran and Cyber to his grotto. When we arrived Oran turned on his computers and attached an SD card reader to his desktop computer via a USB slot. Three screens around his work-desk lit up. A folder, with what I presumed to be some Chinese writing under, moved into the middle of the centre screen. Then Oran moved his mouse cursor to the left hand screen and clicked on one of the icons that had appeared there.

“Andy you remember when I used the Prism software to hack into the CIA and then the FRS or facial recognition software. I told you at the time I could make it better and faster.”

“Yes Oran, but I don’t see how that will allow you to access this chip. Remember you only have one hit at this.”

“Yes that is correct any more attempts that are not precise, will cause the information on it to be wiped” Sir Robert interjected before Oran could answer me.

“Sir Robert why did your technical team not just clone the chip? Then you could have as many tries as you like.” Oran asked

“We tried to copy it but it would not let us copy without the password”

“I said CLONE not copy”

“There is a difference?” Sir Robert said

“A clone is an exact replica right down to the type of format used to create the original. So if the data was stored in say, 1 bit 2 bit or even 32 bit chunks, or perhaps a custom setting say like 12 bit. Then the clone will be an exact replica. However when you copy a file or data drive, it will only make it bit size the same as say your computer is set at, which would normally be 64bit. Also if you tried to copy this drive, it would see it as an attempt to access it with the wrong password or encryption. So I am first trying to ascertain the bit size and when I determine that then I shall clone it, then hack that clone, while keeping the original intact. Just in case it all goes tits up?”

We sat down wherever we could find a space. Oran was not the tidiest of people. It was clean, just there were piles of hard drives and other computing stuff. Oran had a large jar of Cherry flavoured lollipops, he took one out unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth. I picked up one of Oran’s many gaming magazines and started to read one of the articles about some new super dooper fast computer which the Chinese had created. Not that I really understood it. They were talking about ‘Petaflops’ and ‘Petabytes’ The claim was that it was five times faster than anything the Americans had. They had called it a monster computer and they named it the ‘Sunlight Taihulight’ My thoughts on it, were interrupted by Oran.

“OK we have clone of

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 23.12.2020
ISBN: 978-3-7487-6943-9

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Widmung:
Called out of retirement the final book in the Andy McPhee series is Covid – 19 The Alternate Ending once again biological weapons and weaponised viruses are never far from Team Seven. There is a new man in charge of SIS, and he has his own agendas. Will those align with those of Andy and his team. This time they will not stop a pandemic, but will they be able to help the nations of the world gain control of it. Health is never far from big money; the question is who has the most to gain?????