a seriously pissed off member of the Saudi royal family for no good fucking reason!”
“You’ve got them there?” Turner asked excitedly.
“Touched down a few minutes ago,” he confirmed. “We’ve searched the plane, your man’s not there.”
“He has to be!”
“He’s not.”
“He was disguised in a burka,” said Turner.
“Well he’s had the best sex change operation in history, because trust me, under that material is a very beautiful, and I mean very beautiful woman.”
“But the woman in the burka was bent double and struggled to board the plane here.”
“The prince said she was unwell earlier,” replied the Colonel.
“Shit! And the two pilots and three stewardesses aren’t talking?”
“No, they’re just standing there wondering what in the hell we crazy Americans are… wait a minute, you said three stewardesses?”
“Yes, three!”
“There are only two here,” said the Colonel, rushing back to the plane.
***
Nick hit the water hard. The cold Atlantic waters bit into his skin and deep into the bone. His breath left him as the water began to drag him down into its depths. The water-logged parachute weighed over twenty times its dry weight, the perfect anchor for the disposal of unwanted bodies. Nick managed to grab the knife from his belt and slash at the cords. The parachute drifted down towards the ocean bed and he was propelled upwards. When he breached the surface, he gasped desperately for every breath of air.
The prince’s Gulfstream jet was already a dot on the horizon when the first fighter jet screeched overhead. A sharp bank brought it around, closing the distance on the world’s fastest corporate jet as though it were hovering stationary, such was the difference in speeds. A second jet appeared as the first’s sonic boom hit him. His ears felt like they would explode and another boom was about to hit. He ducked under the water, the cold almost as shocking and damaging to his ears as the noise.
He checked the metal briefcase was still strapped across his chest and broke the surface once again, checked the small compass on his wrist, and started the long, slow swim ashore. Best guess, he was three to four miles from the shore, a good two hours’ swim. With darkness falling, the lights on shore would help keep him on course.
***
The Colonel returned a few minutes later to the call with the exasperated Turner.
“They claim one of the stewardesses was so unwell before they took off that they left her behind,” explained the Colonel.
“Bullshit!” spat Turner.
“All their stories are consistent. They’ve even given the hotel room and details of where you’ll find her in Washington.”
“Of course they have! Some stand-in, no doubt. Do you believe them?”
“Nope,” replied the Colonel.
“Is there anywhere they could have landed and dropped him off?”
“I doubt it. The timings suggest they flew directly here. And according to where you started tracking them, there was nothing but ocean below.”
“And they never reached France?”
“Intercepted before then.”
“Shit!”
“What do I do about the prince? He’s starting to have a shit fit here,” said the Colonel.
“Nick Geller is definitely not on board?”
“Definitely not. We’ve searched everywhere feasibly and unfeasibly possible for a person to be. The prince is demanding to see the Foreign Minister here in the UK or failing that, the US Ambassador.”
Turner thought for a second before making the biggest mistake of his career. “I suppose we’d better let him go on his way,” he said, resigned to the fact that the hunt was back on.
Turner replaced the handset and set off to find Carson. He had an apology to make as well as informing him they still hadn’t got their man.
After five minutes of looking, he was advised of Carson’s imminent departure to see the President with Frankie. He ran to the helicopter pad and caught them just as they were about to board.
He dragged
“You’ve got them there?” Turner asked excitedly.
“Touched down a few minutes ago,” he confirmed. “We’ve searched the plane, your man’s not there.”
“He has to be!”
“He’s not.”
“He was disguised in a burka,” said Turner.
“Well he’s had the best sex change operation in history, because trust me, under that material is a very beautiful, and I mean very beautiful woman.”
“But the woman in the burka was bent double and struggled to board the plane here.”
“The prince said she was unwell earlier,” replied the Colonel.
“Shit! And the two pilots and three stewardesses aren’t talking?”
“No, they’re just standing there wondering what in the hell we crazy Americans are… wait a minute, you said three stewardesses?”
“Yes, three!”
“There are only two here,” said the Colonel, rushing back to the plane.
***
Nick hit the water hard. The cold Atlantic waters bit into his skin and deep into the bone. His breath left him as the water began to drag him down into its depths. The water-logged parachute weighed over twenty times its dry weight, the perfect anchor for the disposal of unwanted bodies. Nick managed to grab the knife from his belt and slash at the cords. The parachute drifted down towards the ocean bed and he was propelled upwards. When he breached the surface, he gasped desperately for every breath of air.
The prince’s Gulfstream jet was already a dot on the horizon when the first fighter jet screeched overhead. A sharp bank brought it around, closing the distance on the world’s fastest corporate jet as though it were hovering stationary, such was the difference in speeds. A second jet appeared as the first’s sonic boom hit him. His ears felt like they would explode and another boom was about to hit. He ducked under the water, the cold almost as shocking and damaging to his ears as the noise.
He checked the metal briefcase was still strapped across his chest and broke the surface once again, checked the small compass on his wrist, and started the long, slow swim ashore. Best guess, he was three to four miles from the shore, a good two hours’ swim. With darkness falling, the lights on shore would help keep him on course.
***
The Colonel returned a few minutes later to the call with the exasperated Turner.
“They claim one of the stewardesses was so unwell before they took off that they left her behind,” explained the Colonel.
“Bullshit!” spat Turner.
“All their stories are consistent. They’ve even given the hotel room and details of where you’ll find her in Washington.”
“Of course they have! Some stand-in, no doubt. Do you believe them?”
“Nope,” replied the Colonel.
“Is there anywhere they could have landed and dropped him off?”
“I doubt it. The timings suggest they flew directly here. And according to where you started tracking them, there was nothing but ocean below.”
“And they never reached France?”
“Intercepted before then.”
“Shit!”
“What do I do about the prince? He’s starting to have a shit fit here,” said the Colonel.
“Nick Geller is definitely not on board?”
“Definitely not. We’ve searched everywhere feasibly and unfeasibly possible for a person to be. The prince is demanding to see the Foreign Minister here in the UK or failing that, the US Ambassador.”
Turner thought for a second before making the biggest mistake of his career. “I suppose we’d better let him go on his way,” he said, resigned to the fact that the hunt was back on.
Turner replaced the handset and set off to find Carson. He had an apology to make as well as informing him they still hadn’t got their man.
After five minutes of looking, he was advised of Carson’s imminent departure to see the President with Frankie. He ran to the helicopter pad and caught them just as they were about to board.
He dragged
Similar Books
