“Haven’t the foggiest,” Roselli replied, mimicking the Brits. “I suppose that’s why God invented briefings.”
“If this is another exercise,” “Professor” Higgins said from his bunk, “I’m going to vote that we declare war on England without delay.”
The briefing room was tucked away in one corner of the Dorset HQ complex, not far from the barracks, a wood-floored room half filled with folding metal chairs. Roselli, Higgins, Brown, and Sterling had arrived to find several SAS officers and noncoms already present, including Major Roger Dowling-Smythe and Sergeant Major Dunn, both of whom had supervised the CQB exercise, now impeccable in neatly pressed and creased fatigues. SAS Colonel Howard Wentworth was there as well, as was a rather plain man in civilian clothes, who had the look that Roselli had come to associate with intelligence people worldwide.
On a tripod at Wentworth’s back was a corkboard to which several photographs had been attached. Roselli recognized them as photos he’d seen a few days ago… security shots from Heathrow Airport of a couple of possible North Korean agents. The L-T had flown over to Wiesbaden to talk to the Germans about those two.
“Gentlemen,” Wentworth said, standing, a few moments after the Americans had found places for themselves and sat down. “This morning, about three hours ago, the Middlebrough police picked up a girl fleeing from a row house on the west end of the city. Shots were fired from the building.
“Normally, this would be a matter for the local police to handle, but it happens that the young woman in question was able to identify both O’Malley, late of the Provisional Irish Republican Army, and these two Koreans, Major Pak and Captain Chun… though according to their passports, they seem to be calling themselves Mr. and Mrs. Kim these days.
“This is something of a major break for our side. You see, it seems that Pak, his girlfriend, and O’Malley, who was his primary contact in this country, all gave our security people the slip two days ago.” He glanced at the intelligence man, who looked away, clearly discomfited. “We still don’t know what happened, but I gather that some highly placed ministers were quietly contemplating hara-kiri with the knowledge that two potentially dangerous enemy agents were wandering loose around the countryside, presumably in the company of some equally dangerous people from across the Irish Sea.”
A murmur of low-voiced conversation rose in the room as the SAS troopers passed comments back and forth. Roselli heard one young man mutter darkly about a “bloody cock-up.”
“In any case, we have them now. We suspect that this flat in Middlebrough is a safe house run by the Provos. From the woman’s description, there were at least five people living there, probably more. It’s a big house, four stories, and it could hold quite a mob. Most of the people she saw there were armed, and of course the bobby was able to confirm the presence of automatic weapons, though he wasn’t able to tell what kind.
“Also, according to the woman, O’Malley is now dead. Apparently, well, it was O’Malley who brought the young lady in question and a girlfriend of hers home, and it seems that was a breach of the house rules. O’Malley was shot by Pak. Pak’s girlfriend shot our informant’s friend, but the informant was able to make a break for it and escape out onto the street, where she, ah, attracted the notice of the police.
“Naturally, the police were called in. The officer who picked up the girl reported being taken under fire, and there were reports of gunfire called in from other houses in the neighborhood. The police have cordoned off the area and are trying to open up communications with the people inside. They still don’t have a good idea about how many people we have inside, or how well armed they might be.
“As of zero four hundred hours this morning, the Minister of Defense has put this unit on full alert, and I am calling a Class One stand-to. We have the helos loading now at the field. We will deploy A Troop, full takedown kit and harness, to a staging area two miles from the scene. Any questions?”
Roselli raised his hand. “Sir. Any chance us SEALs could tag along?”
Wentworth grinned at him. “Absolutely. I can’t promise you a combat slot, but at least this will give you Yanks a chance to see how the SAS does things in the real world. Any other questions? Okay, let’s move out!”
6
Murdock awoke suddenly, momentarily wondering where he was. Then he sensed the sleek, warm, naked form of Inge Schmidt sprawled in the tangle of sheets at his side, and remembered. Carefully, so that he wouldn’t wake her, he pulled away and stretched. His watch read 0710 hours… late for a SEAL who rarely slept past 0530.
But then, they’d been awake for a long time last night. He wasn’t at all sure exactly when he and Inge had finally gotten to sleep.
Despite his careful movements, her eyes opened. “Good morning, my wonderful lover.”
“Morning, beautiful. Sleep well?”
“Mmm. Delightfully.” She reached over, running her fingers softly down the plank-hard slabs of muscle on his stomach. “You know, that steak was marvelous, but since last night, I’ve acquired a prodigious appetite for seafood. Especially SEAL. Delicious.”
Gently caressing her left breast, he grinned at her from across the pillow. “Plenty more where that came from. Want another helping?”
“You know, I don’t mind if I do. I understand the British eat fish for breakfast. What are they called?”
“Kippers?”
“Yes, kippers. Me, I much prefer raw SEAL for my breakfast.” Raising herself up on one elbow, she leaned over, lightly kissing his chest, then slowly running her tongue down his torso, pausing here and there to lick or kiss, her golden, shoulder-length hair brushing lightly enough across his skin to tickle.
This shouldn’t be happening, Murdock thought. It couldn’t be happening. Not so suddenly… so unexpectedly…
Except for a low moan escaping from Murdock as he closed his eyes and slumped back against his pillow, nothing more was said for several minutes.
The telephone rang on Inge’s bedside table, a harsh, intrusive explosion of sound.
“Oh… damn,” Murdock said, with considerable feeling. Inge reached across his body to pick up the receiver. “Ja?” She listened for a moment to a voice that Murdock could just barely hear as a murmuring buzz. Her eyes met his. “Ja… yes, Chief. He is here.” She handed the phone to Murdock. “Your Master Chief MacKenzie.”
“Good morning, Chief.”
“Sorry for the interruption, L-T,” MacKenzie’s voice said. “Hope I’m not calling too early.”
Damn the man. For a bleary moment, Murdock wondered how MacKenzie had known he was here. Then he remembered signaling the man out the window. Hell, Mac and Hopke had probably posted a security watch outside last night. So much for privacy.
“What is it?”
“Something’s happening. You’d better get squared away and get on in here.”
“Where is ‘here’?”
“BKA headquarters, of course. I just had a call from Dorset. Seems there’s been an incident over in England, and it might affect our boys.”
Inge had returned her full attention to Murdock’s erection, and her ministrations were making it difficult for him to concentrate on MacKenzie’s words. Reaching down, he gently stroked her cheek, then guided her away from his lap. Nodding her comprehension, she shifted her position to simply cuddle close against his side, her hand on his chest.