Murray McDonald - Critical Error

They grabbed their kit. Of course, another reason to justify the additional expense, around $25,000, was the benefit of keeping hold of their $1,200’s worth of weaponry. Forty minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of Manassas Regional Airport and avoiding any type of scanner or camera equipment, they boarded their waiting Learjet 45XR for the four-hour flight to Glacier Park. As the stewardess offered them champagne for the flight, Rebecca checked if it was an additional cost. It was. They drank water. And she added that to her list of justifications.

Just after lunch, they landed, picked up the Camry from the parking lot and drove to the Lodge.

***

The second they turned off the main road and entered the grounds of the lodge, they became targets. At least in the eyes of the Avenger’s operator. The drone was stationed almost 30,000 feet above, maintaining a constant visual on the property below. It had replaced the satellite surveillance just two hours earlier and had been the same unit previously used by Johnson’s team to obliterate an empty cabin. It still had almost eighteen hours left in its tanks but with the assault team due in the next two hours, it was extremely unlikely to need a replacement.

***

Sam was delighted to see his brother and quickly updated him on where they had been and how the Alibi Club may have a glut of new members joining in the near future. Once they had brought them up to speed, Sam pulled out the comic book and explained his theory to the Secretary of Defense. James studied the drawing carefully, he had heard of it but it was well before his time. However, he knew a few people in England who may be able to help. He also considered calling some of his own men but after discussion, they agreed it just wasn’t worth the risk. They really did not know who they could trust, money and power talked and it seemed the President and his cronies had an abundance of both.

With leads that required a few calls to Russia, James cracked on. The comic might be correct after all. So far, things were adding up factually and had Deif searched similarly, he would have made the same links. It was all out there, as James proffered more than once. As darkness fell, James’ progress slowed down. Across the world, it was the middle of the night but he carried on relentless. Numerous angry calls later and they had a breakthrough. The owner of a small shipyard in Russia had sold an item like that a few months earlier.

The owner went to get his records. He had the name of the ship somewhere. And eventually, James Murphy jumped up and down with excitement.

“I’ve got it! I’ve found the ship!”

As the others jumped up to congratulate him, Sam dived and pulled his brother and Rebecca with him to the floor.

The first bullet flew through the window and entered Secretary of Defense James Murphy’s open mouth, a fraction of a second before it took the back of his head with it.

Ben Meir checked his watch as he paused for breath. He had not stopped talking for almost two hours. Ahmed Hameed sat open-mouthed before him.

“So Ahmed, my friend,” offered Ben. “Do you want to be a hero?!”

As far as Ben could see, that’s what it came down to. Ahmed could be a hero or a villain. The spoils in this case were very much for the hero’s taking. The villain would gain nothing and could lose everything. Of course, one major hurdle had to be overcome for any of this to matter. Ahmed Hameed had to believe Ben Meir. The Palestinian terrorist would have to trust the Israeli strategist. It was a lot to ask.

Ahmed said nothing. He just looked at Ben and tried to gauge him. Ahmed Hameed prided himself on his ability to read people. That was how he had got to where he was.

“I must go now. I suppose tomorrow night, at midnight, I will have your answer,” proposed Ben.

“I repeat what I have said to you many times Ben Meir. I do not have full control, everything is compartmentalized. My answer may not give you everything you want, only partially.”

“Then I have wasted your time with my story. I should have sought another,” offered Ben, knowing it would elicit a reaction.

Ahmed rose to the challenge. “You came to the right man, Ben Meir. You know you did. But even if I did choose to believe you and go with your plan, my network stops at the beach.”

“I know, I know. Whatever happens, it has been a pleasure.” Ben shook Ahmed’s hand and drove back to the border gates, his head held just a little further forward than he would normally have it. But the anticipation was unwarranted. The gates slammed closed behind him.

Like Daniel, he had entered the lion’s den and survived. One den down, one to go.

The short flight to Nevatim air force base took thirty minutes and the striking Rockwelll B1-R Lancer stood ready for take-off. Looking more like an over sized fighter jet than a strategic bomber, it was of a similar size to a Boeing 757 and even older. However the B1-R was almost entirely rebuilt with new engines, avionics and weapon systems. Pretty much everything but the skin was new. It was also taking on a slightly more appropriate role and was looking to become a fighter bomber with the addition of air to air weaponry. Its massive range and ability to cruise like a Concorde was going to make it a very interesting addition to the US’ arsenal. In the meantime it was also going to get Ben and his two bodyguards to America before they even left.

The American Colonel welcomed Ben on board and wasted no time in kicking the engines to life and hurtling them off the runway and into the sky. They were supersonic soon after and with only his thoughts and the sound of four Pratt amp; Whitney P119 engines between him and America, Ben put his head back and fell asleep.

Preston waited for the Situation room to empty after the third National Security Council meeting of the day. They still were no nearer tracking the nuclear weapon and the mood of the President was deteriorating quickly. The President had been in meetings with his campaign manager prior to the NSC meeting and he had pointed out clearly and succinctly to the president that if he didn’t stop the bomb it would stop his campaign dead in the water.

“Mr President, could I have a minute please?”

“Not now Henry, I need to get on,” he replied picking up his papers.

“Mr President, I really think you will want to see this,” replied Henry intriguingly.

Henry Preston ushered the rest of the NSC attendees from the room and closed the door, locking it for good measure, which elicited a look of surprise from the President.

“Trust me sir, you won’t want to be disturbed!”

Preston hit the screen remote and the large screen ahead of the President burst into light. The grainy overview of a mountainside some 2,300 miles away quickly came into focus. The President could see the roof of a house and 10 small green blips surrounded it, five to the front and five to the rear.

Preston hit another button and the sound of men talking could be heard.

“Sniper One, I still have the shot. I repeat I still have the shot.”

“Sniper One, Team Leader, confirm target, over?”

“Male mid fifties.”

“Hold sniper one, we are awaiting the go command.”

Preston looked towards the President as the scene before him began to make sense.

“You found him?” the President asked elated, wanting to jump up and hug Preston.

Preston nodded and indicated back towards the screen. They were waiting for him to give the go.

The president nodded vociferously, Preston pressed down the intercom button. “Team Leader you have a go, I repeat Go, Go, Go.”

The President listened as Sniper One was told to fire and a few seconds later the screen flashed into life as flashbangs were thrown into the lodge.