The Black Hand Gang by David Edwards
‘Cool, fabtastic, fabulous...’ they were delighted.
‘In that case we need to head that way.’ He pointed to the waiting aeroplane, sat on the “disused” runway on the riverbank near Chepstow. ‘The airfield is officially closed but the SAS have managed to purloin it for the day.’
‘Can I fly the plane please?’ Asked petrol-head Timmo.
‘No sorry Timmo, I need Jack, Roger and Marshall to spend time learning the controls before the day is over.’ Timmo was disappointed, but he understood their time aloft would be limited. The Cessna 208 only carried six people due to the large amount of specialist electronic equipment that was on trial within and so Wolf went back down river in the RIB to leave it with the guards near The Severn suspension bridge. This meant that the team could land back at the same airfield and their helicopter could collect them. They would pick up Wolf on their way south before heading back to base.
The Cessna’s take-off seemed tame compared to their experience in the helicopter. There was no sinking feeling like you get in a fast rising lift and no immediate impression of height. Brett explained how to adjust the petrol mixture as they gained altitude and showed them the key control dials including the airspeed. He said most light aeroplanes would lift off the runway at about 120 kilometres per hour. Jack, Roger and Marshall took turns piloting the small plane. They pushed the steering column forward to drop the nose and dip downwards. They pulled it back to climb and when they turned the half-wheel to the left it went left but then they realised that the plane lost altitude. With a little tuition from Brett, they learned to increase the amount of throttle as they turned and thus maintain their altitude. All three were full of bravado as they told the others how easy it was and then Brett pressed a black and yellow switch marked “auto” as they came close to the airfield and their landing. He stood up and walked towards the door as if to leave despite the height.
‘No!’ It was shouted as a single chorus. They thought they were going to crash.
‘Don’t panic, remember that, always. Don’t panic. The plane is on autopilot but with an SAS twist.’
‘How do you mean?’ Asked Roger.
‘See the helicopter on our left?’ They could, it was flying in formation. ‘Well the SAS experts inside are controlling the plane and can listen in on every word I say.’
‘No way’ said Timmo, ‘Even BMW haven’t got their remote control car doing that yet. It has to learn the circuit first and then they have to program the computer.’
Brett spoke into his hidden microphone. ‘Turn 90 degrees left control.’ The plane turned as instructed. ‘Turn 90 degrees right control.’ The plane turned again.
Timmo was laughing. ‘Okay I take it back, that is truly and doubly fabtastic.’ The others were gawping as the steering column moved to Brett’s voice command, which was relayed to the controller sat in the helicopter. He in turn sent a computer signal to the auto-pilot of the plane.
Brett spoke. ‘Stop the engine and climb.’
‘Oh god...’ It was Kit Kat, ‘please for goodness sake, we are going to die.’
Jack interrupted her. ‘Don’t panic. That’s what we have been taught.’ The plane went into a slow stall as it lost all its lift and then as if by magic, the nose dipped and it went into a gentle dive.
‘Start the engine and level off.’ The noise of the engine came as a welcome relief to the friends. The whole thing took no more than two minutes. ‘You see, when flying you have to be methodical and slow. Understand that the engine weight will lower the nose. Know that a loss in speed reduces lift and you will fall.’ The plane was flying straight and true and 400 metres above the airfield. ‘Right pilots, you said it was all very easy, is that correct?’
‘Easy peasey, lemon squeezy’ shouted Jack, Roger and Marshall in unison.
‘Just like driving the boat’ chorused Timmo.
‘In that case, who dares wins. Correct?’
‘We all know that Brett, so what’s new?’ Jack was feeling particularly cocky.
Brett appraised him. Jack was the natural leader and now he wanted to test his leadership to breaking point. ‘What’s new, is that I want you to put on the parachute under your seat and dive out of that door.’ Jack sat back down in shock. His brain whirled in panic and then he looked around at the others. They were waiting for him, waiting to be led.
He summoned up all of his courage. ‘Let’s do it then.’ Brett helped him put on the parachute and then the door was opened. Jack looked out of it, his eyes were drawn downwards in terror. He couldn’t speak because of his fear, but a feeling of courage was deep within him as he looked around at the others. He gulped before croaking out the words. ‘Who dares wins.’ Brett pushed him before he was ready and suddenly he was in the air and plunging towards the fields below. His heart was pumping, the sound in his ears was an express train rushing past and then the static line attached to the plane activated the ripcord and he jerked upwards beneath a giant white mushroom.
They say that people in Bristol heard a loud yippee from the sky and they were 30 kilometres away and 200 metres below Jack. It had taken the parachute 300 metres to fully deploy and in that time he had been terrified. Jack was the leader of the gang and now he had proved it. Bring on the mission.
After that special day, firing bazookas and driving tanks was mundane. They were being honed into a team. They were being persuaded that anything a trained SAS soldier could achieve was achievable as a child.
* * *
Too quickly, it was their last evening in the SAS camp. They were sat in the corner of the mess eating lasagne with Wolf, Brett and Sergeant Sargent. The men were allowed to drink alcohol and had chosen a local beer brewed in Brecon. Time was weighing heavily on the three men. The responsibility of sending all five children on the mission was unbearable. No one in MI6 or the CIA teams had anticipated the Facebook messages the day before.
‘Attend the pontoon next to The Houses of Parliament at 12 noon on Friday. Be there or be square. This is your opportunity to meet MM. But remember, it is a secret from everyone you know including your parents and friends.’ Kate’s, Jack’s, Timmo’s and Roger’s message had a further sentence. ‘Come with your friends, you will be safe.’ MM’s gamemaster obviously knew all about them.
The children could tell Sergeant Sargent had drunk too much, his voice was a little woozy, a lot boozy. It made him more human.
‘Listen up you lot, I’ve taught you everything I know and soon it will be up to you but just assure me that you will remember The Reason.’
‘Sarge, not again.’ It was Marshall who spoke but he immediately regretted it as the sergeant bellowed back. However, it was a good-natured reprimand, a little joke on their last night.
‘Sergeant Sargent to you lad,’ he smiled kindly, ‘now listen carefully, I will say this only once...or maybe twice.’
‘Three times at least’ said Jack.
‘Okay sonny, I am just an old man trying to protect some nice kids but listen to me as if I was your dad.’ He drank the remaining half a glass of beer before continuing. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he looked around at the seven attentative faces. ‘God – The Reason, do you believe in it or not? Is it a mythical force? No, it’s a way of believing you will always succeed no matter what the odds. At some point, you will be faced with alternatives. Left or right, up or down, help or hinder. But there may be no logical reasons guiding which action you should take. No history, no emotion, no practical answers. That’s when I used to use the reason. It stood me well in Afghanistan and in Northern Ireland during The Troubles.’ No one spoke, they listened and thought of the hidden terrors to come. ‘I clear my mind of everything and let the choices choose themselves. The reason – others have their God. I have The Reason, it’s the same thing but without a badge, without bureaucracy, without power held by a small number of individuals.’ No one queried it; he had been their dad for three weeks of hard training and they trusted and respected him.
‘Everyone get to
bed, tomorrow your mission starts.’ Wolf had never talked so softly and gently. They all went to bed in a thoughtful and quiet mood, scared to meet the next day but also full of confidence.
After all, they had their friends with them.
Chapter 8
A boat ride to hell
There were no rickety bus rides for the children on departure day. September 14th, 2013 was bright and clear at 7 am, with a slight westerly breeze that ruffled their hair whilst they were standing in the meadow near Brecon. Wolf could see a difference after three weeks of hard training. Even the youngest, Timmo wasn’t tempted to explore the River Usk to their left as the trout leapt from the surface to gobble the early morning insects that buzzed above its clear waters. They were all serious and quiet, contemplating the visit home. The helicopter landed like a noisy tornado assaulting every one of their senses, which were already strained to breaking point. The children were about to start a mission that brave SAS soldiers would fear.
Quickly they climbed aboard the machine as there was only a few hours left before meeting up with Brett in London.
The aerial trip from Brecon to Christleton was still novel but because of the occasion it wasn’t exciting. As the helicopter landed next to the village duck pond, Wolf reminded them that they had precisely one hour to see their parents. He had agreed the strategy with Brett. Any longer and they all might let their emotions overwhelm them. Marshall remained hidden inside the fuselage of the helicopter, whilst the others quickly ran to their homes. It made him realise how important it was to have a mum and dad. In fact, it made him extremely sad. Wolf deliberately left Marshall alone, instead he stood outside talking with the pilot and co-pilot in the early morning sun and telling the odd nosey villager that The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge wanted privacy during their secret visit.
The first person to reach home was Roger. His mother air-kissed his cheeks, first the left and then the right and his father shook hands like a real man, but Roger really needed a hug. He also felt hurt by Licko’s lack of attention. The dog avoided Roger for the first time since he was a tiny puppy. Licko had a manic look across his muzzle and was flailing saliva around the room, as he leapt from chair to chair in non-stop motion.
Rupert shouted at Licko but without any success. ‘Licko, come here! Come here now!’ The dog ignored his master for a full minute before careering out of the open door and racing down the street towards Kate’s house.
The father turned to his son. ‘They say animals pick up on things Roger. They have keen senses and understand our emotions better than other people.’ He patted Roger’s head, ‘come and sit in the kitchen old boy and tell us what you have been up to.’ He looked at his son. ‘You will tell us everything? Won’t you?’
‘Of course father.’ Roger replied. Whilst the adults sat at the pine kitchen table drinking their cafetiere of coffee and staring at him, he proceeded to tell them 10 per cent of what had really happened over the last three weeks. He made it out to be like a PGL holiday, pure excitement and no stress, all so that they wouldn’t worry about him.
Their only comment was how much stronger and fitter he looked, ‘turning into a fine young man.’
Brett had visited Jack and Timmo’s home the day before, as their parents were a special case with two sons involved. He had talked to Jennifer and Jonathan in the privacy of the garden.
‘So that is the plan. No one else knows all these details but we wanted to tell you the truth as it affects both of your children.’
Jonathan was holding Jennifer’s hand as he asked, his voice quavered. ‘Why us and why give us details now? You said it was all covered by the official secrets act.’
‘Because you Jonathan were the most worried about everything and because you can talk to Roger and Kate’s parents if...’ there was a pregnant pause.
Jennifer intervened. She squeezed her husband’s hand as she was speaking. ‘There will be no if anything happens. My boys will come back to me and so will their friends.’
But that was yesterday, now they could hear their boys rummaging around the kitchen as they searched for a bottle of Coke. For a moment the two adults stayed still and silent as they sat in the lounge. They listened to the excited chatter, the love and support between the brothers. Jennifer and Jonathan followed them to the kitchen where they were shown a Swiss army penknife by Jack. He was excited as he demonstrated the specialist tools. A mini-drill, a screw driver, Allen-keys and of course a sharp knife. Timmo had gone up to his room immediately upon his return. Now he looked like an ant as he was wearing a pair of 3D glasses he had stolen from the local multiplex cinema. After Oreos and Coke, the boys happily hugged their mum and dad goodbye and insisted on racing back to the helicopter without them. It was a good idea, it left the parents to cry in private. Neither of the boys could appreciate the seriousness of their situations, but now one set of parents truly realised the magnitude of the mission.
As Kate pushed the kitchen door inwards, she saw Wispy the cat jumping from the table to a chair and then immediately back to the table. She then repeated this without a pause three times before leaping to different chair. She continued her erratic rampage across the furniture and completely ignored Kate as she entered. The cat only stopped when grandma appeared but as she came down the stairs, it immediately prompted Wispy to shoot through the open door and scurry up the nearest tree.
‘Katey my dear, come here and have a big hug.’ Kate stepped lightly across the tiled floor to her grandma who immediately pulled her close. Grandma whispered into her ear, ‘since your mummy died, I have tried to teach you all I know about life and living. Not existing, anyone can do that. I mean living, making a difference in this world and...’
Katey interrupted ‘Please grandma, no emotional thoughts today, it’s too hard leaving you as it is.’
Grandma decided not to tell her that she was a spy in World War ІІ, any good advice on how to behave would wait. ‘Listen my lovely girl, I love you more than you will ever know, and I know, your mummy is proud of you.’ They both started to sob gently whilst still in each other arms. ‘She came to me last night in a dream. Your mum, she spoke to me.’ Kate pulled back slightly and looked into her grandma’s serious eyes.
‘What?’ She took a deep breath, ‘what did she say?’
Grandma grasped Katy’s hands tightly in her own before she responded. ‘She said that when all seems lost you should be yourself my dear.’
‘I’m sorry grandma, I don’t understand the message.’
‘Neither do I my dear, neither do I, but I know you must remember the words, because you are travelling into peril.’ Both of them remained silent for the rest of the time before Kate’s departure. They said their goodbyes and then Kate kissed her cheek and slowly walked alone down the cottage garden path towards the helicopter that already contained Roger, Jack, Marshall and Timmo. At the gate, she turned to wave goodbye and was nearly knocked off her feet by Licko as he sped into the garden and ran around the oak tree madly barking at Wispy who was sat high in the branches.
Grandma blew her a second kiss and shouted in a wavering voice.
‘Be yourself Katey, remember, be yourself.’ And then she slowly closed the cottage door on her granddaughter to make the parting a little easier.
Inside the helicopter, she whispered to Jack, telling him about the conversation with grandma.
‘I felt strange Jack. It wasn’t just the emotions surrounding leaving or apprehension about our mission. It was as if there was a hidden presence watching me. Even Wispy and Licko were acting strangely.’
‘So what was it all about do you think?’ Jack asked as she settled into the leather bucket seat and fastened her seat belt.
‘Something and nothing. We shall see.’
The helicopter rose smoothly and rotated towards London with five quiet children contemplating the families left behind them in their past, their old lives, and wondering about the unpredictable future of the mission.
* *
*
The children waited with Wolf and Brett in a black Transit minibus in the secure underground car park located deep beneath The Houses of Parliament. There were no other vehicles nearby as the police had quarantined the area, although no one would have seen their faces hidden behind the darkened glass. The situation was tense, everyone had remained quiet since boarding the bus at the RAF Northolt airfield in West London.
Wolf handed Jack a bright red memory stick. ‘We need to know more about the planned cyber attack. You have to find access to the brain of the neural computer network that the terrorists are using and then plug this search and acquire device into a USB socket. Notice that you can twist it to alter the type of connector. If in doubt plug it in to anything connected to the brain.’
Roger was sat next to Jack. ‘Won’t it be detected by their anti-virus software as a bug?’
‘No, we have better boffins than that, but the search and acquire program will take at least two minutes to function correctly. Allowing 30 seconds for your access and the same for an exit, you need three minutes with no prying eyes.’
Jack weighed the memory stick in his hand. ‘I’ll hide it inside the secret compartment in the heel of my Nikes. But how do I get the data back to you?’
Brett clasped a gentle hand on his shoulder. ‘I will be at The Outspan hotel in Kenya as your back up. It’s no more than 30 kilometres away. The only way is to physically give us the device. Maybe through a trusted informer? Even by bribing a local native with your secret stash of dollars? We can’t predict anything, but you will find a way. I trust you Jack.’ He gave Jack a slip of paper with the latitude and longitude of the hotel written on it. ‘Learn it and remember it, you have one minute and then I need it back please.’
Wolf spoke. ‘It’s time.’
They all emptied out of the van and followed him towards the secret passage that led from the carpark to The Embankment and MM’s boat that was berthed 100 metres above. Little did they know, but the tunnel and stairs was on the exact spot where Guy Fawkes had failed to blow up Parliament. After a few minutes climbing, Wolf moved to one side and let the children file past. He stood next to Brett. Wolf called after them as they turned the final corner in the passageway and were lost to sight. ‘Remember your training everyone. Remember to stay safe, nothing else really matters.’ He turned abruptly and walked back towards the minibus. Both men were quiet for a few moments before Wolf’s comment. ‘The dice have been rolled my friend, let’s hope they win the game.’
‘In that case we need to head that way.’ He pointed to the waiting aeroplane, sat on the “disused” runway on the riverbank near Chepstow. ‘The airfield is officially closed but the SAS have managed to purloin it for the day.’
‘Can I fly the plane please?’ Asked petrol-head Timmo.
‘No sorry Timmo, I need Jack, Roger and Marshall to spend time learning the controls before the day is over.’ Timmo was disappointed, but he understood their time aloft would be limited. The Cessna 208 only carried six people due to the large amount of specialist electronic equipment that was on trial within and so Wolf went back down river in the RIB to leave it with the guards near The Severn suspension bridge. This meant that the team could land back at the same airfield and their helicopter could collect them. They would pick up Wolf on their way south before heading back to base.
The Cessna’s take-off seemed tame compared to their experience in the helicopter. There was no sinking feeling like you get in a fast rising lift and no immediate impression of height. Brett explained how to adjust the petrol mixture as they gained altitude and showed them the key control dials including the airspeed. He said most light aeroplanes would lift off the runway at about 120 kilometres per hour. Jack, Roger and Marshall took turns piloting the small plane. They pushed the steering column forward to drop the nose and dip downwards. They pulled it back to climb and when they turned the half-wheel to the left it went left but then they realised that the plane lost altitude. With a little tuition from Brett, they learned to increase the amount of throttle as they turned and thus maintain their altitude. All three were full of bravado as they told the others how easy it was and then Brett pressed a black and yellow switch marked “auto” as they came close to the airfield and their landing. He stood up and walked towards the door as if to leave despite the height.
‘No!’ It was shouted as a single chorus. They thought they were going to crash.
‘Don’t panic, remember that, always. Don’t panic. The plane is on autopilot but with an SAS twist.’
‘How do you mean?’ Asked Roger.
‘See the helicopter on our left?’ They could, it was flying in formation. ‘Well the SAS experts inside are controlling the plane and can listen in on every word I say.’
‘No way’ said Timmo, ‘Even BMW haven’t got their remote control car doing that yet. It has to learn the circuit first and then they have to program the computer.’
Brett spoke into his hidden microphone. ‘Turn 90 degrees left control.’ The plane turned as instructed. ‘Turn 90 degrees right control.’ The plane turned again.
Timmo was laughing. ‘Okay I take it back, that is truly and doubly fabtastic.’ The others were gawping as the steering column moved to Brett’s voice command, which was relayed to the controller sat in the helicopter. He in turn sent a computer signal to the auto-pilot of the plane.
Brett spoke. ‘Stop the engine and climb.’
‘Oh god...’ It was Kit Kat, ‘please for goodness sake, we are going to die.’
Jack interrupted her. ‘Don’t panic. That’s what we have been taught.’ The plane went into a slow stall as it lost all its lift and then as if by magic, the nose dipped and it went into a gentle dive.
‘Start the engine and level off.’ The noise of the engine came as a welcome relief to the friends. The whole thing took no more than two minutes. ‘You see, when flying you have to be methodical and slow. Understand that the engine weight will lower the nose. Know that a loss in speed reduces lift and you will fall.’ The plane was flying straight and true and 400 metres above the airfield. ‘Right pilots, you said it was all very easy, is that correct?’
‘Easy peasey, lemon squeezy’ shouted Jack, Roger and Marshall in unison.
‘Just like driving the boat’ chorused Timmo.
‘In that case, who dares wins. Correct?’
‘We all know that Brett, so what’s new?’ Jack was feeling particularly cocky.
Brett appraised him. Jack was the natural leader and now he wanted to test his leadership to breaking point. ‘What’s new, is that I want you to put on the parachute under your seat and dive out of that door.’ Jack sat back down in shock. His brain whirled in panic and then he looked around at the others. They were waiting for him, waiting to be led.
He summoned up all of his courage. ‘Let’s do it then.’ Brett helped him put on the parachute and then the door was opened. Jack looked out of it, his eyes were drawn downwards in terror. He couldn’t speak because of his fear, but a feeling of courage was deep within him as he looked around at the others. He gulped before croaking out the words. ‘Who dares wins.’ Brett pushed him before he was ready and suddenly he was in the air and plunging towards the fields below. His heart was pumping, the sound in his ears was an express train rushing past and then the static line attached to the plane activated the ripcord and he jerked upwards beneath a giant white mushroom.
They say that people in Bristol heard a loud yippee from the sky and they were 30 kilometres away and 200 metres below Jack. It had taken the parachute 300 metres to fully deploy and in that time he had been terrified. Jack was the leader of the gang and now he had proved it. Bring on the mission.
After that special day, firing bazookas and driving tanks was mundane. They were being honed into a team. They were being persuaded that anything a trained SAS soldier could achieve was achievable as a child.
* * *
Too quickly, it was their last evening in the SAS camp. They were sat in the corner of the mess eating lasagne with Wolf, Brett and Sergeant Sargent. The men were allowed to drink alcohol and had chosen a local beer brewed in Brecon. Time was weighing heavily on the three men. The responsibility of sending all five children on the mission was unbearable. No one in MI6 or the CIA teams had anticipated the Facebook messages the day before.
‘Attend the pontoon next to The Houses of Parliament at 12 noon on Friday. Be there or be square. This is your opportunity to meet MM. But remember, it is a secret from everyone you know including your parents and friends.’ Kate’s, Jack’s, Timmo’s and Roger’s message had a further sentence. ‘Come with your friends, you will be safe.’ MM’s gamemaster obviously knew all about them.
The children could tell Sergeant Sargent had drunk too much, his voice was a little woozy, a lot boozy. It made him more human.
‘Listen up you lot, I’ve taught you everything I know and soon it will be up to you but just assure me that you will remember The Reason.’
‘Sarge, not again.’ It was Marshall who spoke but he immediately regretted it as the sergeant bellowed back. However, it was a good-natured reprimand, a little joke on their last night.
‘Sergeant Sargent to you lad,’ he smiled kindly, ‘now listen carefully, I will say this only once...or maybe twice.’
‘Three times at least’ said Jack.
‘Okay sonny, I am just an old man trying to protect some nice kids but listen to me as if I was your dad.’ He drank the remaining half a glass of beer before continuing. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he looked around at the seven attentative faces. ‘God – The Reason, do you believe in it or not? Is it a mythical force? No, it’s a way of believing you will always succeed no matter what the odds. At some point, you will be faced with alternatives. Left or right, up or down, help or hinder. But there may be no logical reasons guiding which action you should take. No history, no emotion, no practical answers. That’s when I used to use the reason. It stood me well in Afghanistan and in Northern Ireland during The Troubles.’ No one spoke, they listened and thought of the hidden terrors to come. ‘I clear my mind of everything and let the choices choose themselves. The reason – others have their God. I have The Reason, it’s the same thing but without a badge, without bureaucracy, without power held by a small number of individuals.’ No one queried it; he had been their dad for three weeks of hard training and they trusted and respected him.
‘Everyone get to
After all, they had their friends with them.
Chapter 8
A boat ride to hell
There were no rickety bus rides for the children on departure day. September 14th, 2013 was bright and clear at 7 am, with a slight westerly breeze that ruffled their hair whilst they were standing in the meadow near Brecon. Wolf could see a difference after three weeks of hard training. Even the youngest, Timmo wasn’t tempted to explore the River Usk to their left as the trout leapt from the surface to gobble the early morning insects that buzzed above its clear waters. They were all serious and quiet, contemplating the visit home. The helicopter landed like a noisy tornado assaulting every one of their senses, which were already strained to breaking point. The children were about to start a mission that brave SAS soldiers would fear.
Quickly they climbed aboard the machine as there was only a few hours left before meeting up with Brett in London.
The aerial trip from Brecon to Christleton was still novel but because of the occasion it wasn’t exciting. As the helicopter landed next to the village duck pond, Wolf reminded them that they had precisely one hour to see their parents. He had agreed the strategy with Brett. Any longer and they all might let their emotions overwhelm them. Marshall remained hidden inside the fuselage of the helicopter, whilst the others quickly ran to their homes. It made him realise how important it was to have a mum and dad. In fact, it made him extremely sad. Wolf deliberately left Marshall alone, instead he stood outside talking with the pilot and co-pilot in the early morning sun and telling the odd nosey villager that The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge wanted privacy during their secret visit.
The first person to reach home was Roger. His mother air-kissed his cheeks, first the left and then the right and his father shook hands like a real man, but Roger really needed a hug. He also felt hurt by Licko’s lack of attention. The dog avoided Roger for the first time since he was a tiny puppy. Licko had a manic look across his muzzle and was flailing saliva around the room, as he leapt from chair to chair in non-stop motion.
Rupert shouted at Licko but without any success. ‘Licko, come here! Come here now!’ The dog ignored his master for a full minute before careering out of the open door and racing down the street towards Kate’s house.
The father turned to his son. ‘They say animals pick up on things Roger. They have keen senses and understand our emotions better than other people.’ He patted Roger’s head, ‘come and sit in the kitchen old boy and tell us what you have been up to.’ He looked at his son. ‘You will tell us everything? Won’t you?’
‘Of course father.’ Roger replied. Whilst the adults sat at the pine kitchen table drinking their cafetiere of coffee and staring at him, he proceeded to tell them 10 per cent of what had really happened over the last three weeks. He made it out to be like a PGL holiday, pure excitement and no stress, all so that they wouldn’t worry about him.
Their only comment was how much stronger and fitter he looked, ‘turning into a fine young man.’
Brett had visited Jack and Timmo’s home the day before, as their parents were a special case with two sons involved. He had talked to Jennifer and Jonathan in the privacy of the garden.
‘So that is the plan. No one else knows all these details but we wanted to tell you the truth as it affects both of your children.’
Jonathan was holding Jennifer’s hand as he asked, his voice quavered. ‘Why us and why give us details now? You said it was all covered by the official secrets act.’
‘Because you Jonathan were the most worried about everything and because you can talk to Roger and Kate’s parents if...’ there was a pregnant pause.
Jennifer intervened. She squeezed her husband’s hand as she was speaking. ‘There will be no if anything happens. My boys will come back to me and so will their friends.’
But that was yesterday, now they could hear their boys rummaging around the kitchen as they searched for a bottle of Coke. For a moment the two adults stayed still and silent as they sat in the lounge. They listened to the excited chatter, the love and support between the brothers. Jennifer and Jonathan followed them to the kitchen where they were shown a Swiss army penknife by Jack. He was excited as he demonstrated the specialist tools. A mini-drill, a screw driver, Allen-keys and of course a sharp knife. Timmo had gone up to his room immediately upon his return. Now he looked like an ant as he was wearing a pair of 3D glasses he had stolen from the local multiplex cinema. After Oreos and Coke, the boys happily hugged their mum and dad goodbye and insisted on racing back to the helicopter without them. It was a good idea, it left the parents to cry in private. Neither of the boys could appreciate the seriousness of their situations, but now one set of parents truly realised the magnitude of the mission.
As Kate pushed the kitchen door inwards, she saw Wispy the cat jumping from the table to a chair and then immediately back to the table. She then repeated this without a pause three times before leaping to different chair. She continued her erratic rampage across the furniture and completely ignored Kate as she entered. The cat only stopped when grandma appeared but as she came down the stairs, it immediately prompted Wispy to shoot through the open door and scurry up the nearest tree.
‘Katey my dear, come here and have a big hug.’ Kate stepped lightly across the tiled floor to her grandma who immediately pulled her close. Grandma whispered into her ear, ‘since your mummy died, I have tried to teach you all I know about life and living. Not existing, anyone can do that. I mean living, making a difference in this world and...’
Katey interrupted ‘Please grandma, no emotional thoughts today, it’s too hard leaving you as it is.’
Grandma decided not to tell her that she was a spy in World War ІІ, any good advice on how to behave would wait. ‘Listen my lovely girl, I love you more than you will ever know, and I know, your mummy is proud of you.’ They both started to sob gently whilst still in each other arms. ‘She came to me last night in a dream. Your mum, she spoke to me.’ Kate pulled back slightly and looked into her grandma’s serious eyes.
‘What?’ She took a deep breath, ‘what did she say?’
Grandma grasped Katy’s hands tightly in her own before she responded. ‘She said that when all seems lost you should be yourself my dear.’
‘I’m sorry grandma, I don’t understand the message.’
‘Neither do I my dear, neither do I, but I know you must remember the words, because you are travelling into peril.’ Both of them remained silent for the rest of the time before Kate’s departure. They said their goodbyes and then Kate kissed her cheek and slowly walked alone down the cottage garden path towards the helicopter that already contained Roger, Jack, Marshall and Timmo. At the gate, she turned to wave goodbye and was nearly knocked off her feet by Licko as he sped into the garden and ran around the oak tree madly barking at Wispy who was sat high in the branches.
Grandma blew her a second kiss and shouted in a wavering voice.
‘Be yourself Katey, remember, be yourself.’ And then she slowly closed the cottage door on her granddaughter to make the parting a little easier.
Inside the helicopter, she whispered to Jack, telling him about the conversation with grandma.
‘I felt strange Jack. It wasn’t just the emotions surrounding leaving or apprehension about our mission. It was as if there was a hidden presence watching me. Even Wispy and Licko were acting strangely.’
‘So what was it all about do you think?’ Jack asked as she settled into the leather bucket seat and fastened her seat belt.
‘Something and nothing. We shall see.’
The helicopter rose smoothly and rotated towards London with five quiet children contemplating the families left behind them in their past, their old lives, and wondering about the unpredictable future of the mission.
* *
The children waited with Wolf and Brett in a black Transit minibus in the secure underground car park located deep beneath The Houses of Parliament. There were no other vehicles nearby as the police had quarantined the area, although no one would have seen their faces hidden behind the darkened glass. The situation was tense, everyone had remained quiet since boarding the bus at the RAF Northolt airfield in West London.
Wolf handed Jack a bright red memory stick. ‘We need to know more about the planned cyber attack. You have to find access to the brain of the neural computer network that the terrorists are using and then plug this search and acquire device into a USB socket. Notice that you can twist it to alter the type of connector. If in doubt plug it in to anything connected to the brain.’
Roger was sat next to Jack. ‘Won’t it be detected by their anti-virus software as a bug?’
‘No, we have better boffins than that, but the search and acquire program will take at least two minutes to function correctly. Allowing 30 seconds for your access and the same for an exit, you need three minutes with no prying eyes.’
Jack weighed the memory stick in his hand. ‘I’ll hide it inside the secret compartment in the heel of my Nikes. But how do I get the data back to you?’
Brett clasped a gentle hand on his shoulder. ‘I will be at The Outspan hotel in Kenya as your back up. It’s no more than 30 kilometres away. The only way is to physically give us the device. Maybe through a trusted informer? Even by bribing a local native with your secret stash of dollars? We can’t predict anything, but you will find a way. I trust you Jack.’ He gave Jack a slip of paper with the latitude and longitude of the hotel written on it. ‘Learn it and remember it, you have one minute and then I need it back please.’
Wolf spoke. ‘It’s time.’
They all emptied out of the van and followed him towards the secret passage that led from the carpark to The Embankment and MM’s boat that was berthed 100 metres above. Little did they know, but the tunnel and stairs was on the exact spot where Guy Fawkes had failed to blow up Parliament. After a few minutes climbing, Wolf moved to one side and let the children file past. He stood next to Brett. Wolf called after them as they turned the final corner in the passageway and were lost to sight. ‘Remember your training everyone. Remember to stay safe, nothing else really matters.’ He turned abruptly and walked back towards the minibus. Both men were quiet for a few moments before Wolf’s comment. ‘The dice have been rolled my friend, let’s hope they win the game.’