Skanks and Crawford were still on the bridge, feeling the ship shifting down as the tonnes of water inundated the superstructure. Neither of them had their survival suits on, they both knew what was going to happen in the next few minutes. Crawford shouted over the noise as the ship was dragged down. ‘Been a pleasure Cap.’ Skanks just looked his friend in the eye and nodded as he hit the keyboard, sending the email to his friend Jacob Mathias. Then he lost his footing.
The bridge was now at forty-five degrees as the ship lost buoyancy. Skanks reached for the emergency beacon release button. Before he could activate it he slid down the floor breaking his leg on impact, the pain was excruciating but Skanks knew he would not have to tolerate it for long.
The Sea Eagle was below the surface within minutes. If the shock of hitting the freezing water did not kill the crew, they either drowned or died of hyperthermia.
On the surface the only remaining sound was the buzzing of the UAV’s engine as it circled above a swirling mass of white water and debris.
TWO
Archer Mathias sat in the bar as dust from the street blew in, stirring up the combined odours of tobacco, stale beer and roasted meat. Was this the lingering stench of civil war?
He had come in by boat on the coast of Somalia, by car and truck to Mabalia. A UN safe haven formed to stabilise the region, which it was barely doing. He had seen the dead everywhere, some still walking, but dead they were. He knew how the world could allow this. One of the many reasons he had turned his back on his life.
Ex-soldier, ex-son, ex-patriot.
Archer was a private security consultant working for Protection Incorporated. No one here knew his real name, a pseudonym was used to support any enquiry. Archer had recently disagreed with his father on the circumstances of his mother’s death and wanted to be anywhere but home. He signed up for a one-year contract to see if he preferred this way of living. He was invited by Khan, a mate from Ranger School he had not seen for years. He had thought he was dead, but he just turned up and offered him a job.
The pay was good, better than Uncle Sam’s but the conditions were variable. Someday clients would be in five star hotels, other times in seedy motels without their wives’ knowledge. His job was not to judge, just to assess, protect and keep his mouth shut, which he did competently. This job had come about from that aptitude, personal protection for the President of Mabalia.
This was his seventh month here; he had settled in quick, annoying some people by changing all the woefully inadequate security protocols. This annoyed Enzi, the head of internal security restricting his ability to continue with his covert operations
Since Archer had been recruited there was only one attempted assassination, a simple shooter with a handgun, dealt with quickly and easily. President Uncotto’s trust in Archer had multiplied after that, ‘you have proved your worth Mr Darnay, I am grateful.’ The president did not know Archers real name, just his cover.
Rarely did the President speak to Archer directly in public, there was an understanding between them which had developed and this was based on trust. Archer liked it, reminded him of home, before his Mom died.
He tried not to have habits, never the same place twice, no patterns, and no predictability. The only people who could see it were kindred spirits, like Khan who was the last person he expected to see in a bar in Mabalia, but there he was in the doorway.
Archer’s two men made brief eye contact with him, and then allowed the stranger to approach. Even on a day off, walking around alone was extremely unhealthy, the increased kidnapping of oil workers currently plaguing them was testament to that.
Khan’s teeth emphasised his handsome dark features. His hair was long and tied back behind his head in a rough ponytail; his combats were tatty and dirty letting him blend into the crowd. Archer knew better than to call him over, as he would at home, he just nodded and kicked a chair out. Khan approached, scanning the room.
‘It’s safe buddy, trust me.’
‘There is no safe, not even home’
Archer laughed, ‘you are right old friend. Tea?’
‘You still drink that?’
‘Green tea, take it with me everywhere, boiled water makes it safer than coffee.’
‘Disgusting. So how’s tricks?’
Before Archer answered a man came over with a bottle of whiskey, Khan nodded politely and paid the man.
Archer waited until he was out of earshot, concerned that Khan did not have to order the bottle. ‘So how have you been?’
‘Great, great. Been a hell of a year, how’s your mother and father, its years since I have been on the ranch.’
‘Dad is off saving the world as usual. My mom, died.’
‘Shit man, I am really sorry, I liked her.’
‘Thanks.’
‘How did it happen?’
‘Cancer. Ate healthy, exercised, never smoked and it still got her.’
‘Were you with her at the end?’
‘No, she died alone. I was in Afghanistan, Dad was in the Arctic.’
Khan was silent, watching his friends face.
‘That’s why I am here. Too many memories at home. I am not talking to my dad.’
‘Not his fault, he was away.’
Archer slammed his fist down on the table, ‘he could have been, but he chose not to be.’
The other occupants of the bar looked around briefly and then returned to their business.
‘Again, I am sorry. That why you took the job then?’
‘This company is alright, the job has its advantages. I mean when you tell your kids that you have guarded presidents, that’s cool.’
Khan laughed, ‘And who are you having kids with? And when?’
Archer saw the joke.
‘Okay so I might need to get a woman first’
‘More like get a life, then get a woman. This is no job for a married man and I should know after two wives.’
The two friends laughed, unaware of the man in the backroom on his mobile, recording their faces.
‘So why you here, the company sending me back up?’
‘No Archer, I’m here on other business, tell you what, I might need your help. Meet me later?’
‘Sure, when and where?’
‘At my hotel, two hours?’
Archer took the paper Khan had passed him, a little over cautious glance from his old friend had Archer on his guard.
‘Sure mate, see you in two.’
Khan left, taking the bottle with him. The man at the back shut his mobile with an audible click. Archer’s peripheral vision caught him. Six foot, shaved head, jeans, t-shirt, straw hat, the tattoo on his forearm gave him away, despite his dark skin. An army insignia. The man also made the mistake of eyeballing Archer on his way out. Khan was in trouble, more than he realised.
Archer drove back to the Presidential palace a mile away, his tactical awareness engaged. He wanted to call head office about Khan, but a mobile on the street here, enough to get you shot.
Archer settled in his Spartan room, a bed, wardrobe and chair. He didn’t need anything else, just the basics. His gun safe was under a marble slab in the floor, accessible from the bed. His satellite phone for head office was also stashed in a standard safe he had fitted when he arrived. He closed the blinds and shutters of his single large window, locked the door then opened the safe quietly.
Khan’s behaviour and the possibility that he may be compromised had Archer spooked. A call to base would reassure him. He dialled the number, a short delay, and then a clear voice, ‘This is Protection Incorporated. Enter your pin now,’
Archer obliged, the voice that responded was not the usual operator.
‘Archer my boy, I am keeping a close eye on Mabalia, is this about Khan?’