Assassin (The Billionaire Series) (10 page)

“It’s just a quick call to let you know we’re heading back to
Glasgow. We decided to postpone the rest of the trip with everything else
that’s happening. We should be home by lunchtime your time. I’ll talk to you
then properly but please don’t worry, everything will be fine, OK?”

“OK, love you Dad.”

“Love you too son, now get back to sleep.”

***

 
Alba One
thundered down the runway as the Captain was, in his own words, “getting them
the hell out of Dodge.” The engines screamed as they lifted the huge plane off
the ground and up into the night sky. The captain wasted no time and
immediately began to bank the plane round to the right to take them on a
northerly course straight home.

Donald had spared no expense on any portion of the plane,
including the engines, opting for more powerful ones which had been developed
for the slightly longer and significantly heavier cargo version of the A380. It
meant that Alba One exceeded every specification for a plane of its type. She
accelerated faster, could take off and land on a shorter runway and could, most
importantly, fly almost as fast as the speed of sound. Jim, the Captain, swore
she was faster than a Citation X, currently the record holder for civilian
aircraft, but nobody believed him. He would prove it that night. His orders
were to get them home as fast as the plane could get them there. He threw the
throttles forward and the plane lurched ever higher and faster, thundering
through the 3800 miles home. The journey would usually take over seven hours
but he planned to do it in six.

Donald, Rachel and Saki released their seat-belts after a
fairly terrifying take off. Jim was certainly taking Donald to his word. Donald
could have sworn the turn on to the runway was done on half the wheels. The
whine from the engines was intense, Donald had never even heard the engines
before.

Nobody had said anything since they left Gabon other than what
Donald had said to Tom. They were all physically and mentally exhausted.

***

“Sir, you were right, we just picked them up.”

Smith had received a phone call earlier that evening from
Beaumont who suggested they keep a very close eye on the radar that night. He
believed the Kennedys may have a sudden change of plan. Smith began to think
the guy had a crystal ball as the number corresponding to Alba One’s
transponder blinked on his screen.

“They’re really shifting. That guy is not hanging around,”
said the radar operator.

Smith picked up the mic and pressed the transmit button.

“Guys, they’ll be over our airspace in 10 minutes. You know
what you need to do. Don’t let me down.”

“Yes Sir,” came the response over the radio.

***

The two Mig-29s turned around and activated their
afterburners. They had been circling slowly over the sea to conserve fuel. The
fighter jets reacted immediately to the acceleration and pushed through the
sound barrier with ease, quickly reaching their maximum speed of just over Mach
2.

They would be in position long before Alba One entered their
airspace.

***

Donald had just got into his bed when the phone buzzed next to
him. What now, he thought. It was a seven hour flight home and he was looking
forward to sleeping for every last second of it.

“Hello?” he answered.

“Mr Kennedy, sorry to disturb you but I really think you need
to come up to the cockpit.” Jim sounded very distressed.

“Is everything OK?” Donald was instantly worried.

Before Jim could answer, loud cracks could be heard outside
the plane.

“Jim, what the hell is going on?” demanded Donald.

“Just get up here and quick.” Jim hung up.

Donald dropped the phone and ran to the cockpit.

***

 
“Alba One, come in
Alba One.” The Mig pilot tried to make contact with Alba One.

Jim could see the pilot, he was flying alongside Alba One. He
was ignoring the call. He then noticed another Mig 29 along the other side of
Alba One but only for a second. It dropped back, out of sight and then suddenly
fired 20 rounds from its 30mm cannon.

***

Donald rushed into the cockpit. He didn’t need to ask Jim what
was wrong. The first thing he noticed was the large fighter sitting alongside
as though attached to them on the right. Saki appeared right behind him.

Jim spoke as they entered.

“There are two of them, the one on the left just dropped back
and fired some warning shots because I was refusing to respond.”

“What the hell do they want!?” Donald knew this was not good and
had expected many things but not this.

“No idea.”

“Alba One, if you fail to respond, the next shots will not
miss.”

Donald nodded to Jim to respond.

“This is Alba One, how can we help you?”

“Alba One, you are currently flying over Equatorial Guinea airspace
and you have on board a criminal by the name of Donald Kennedy, please follow
us to our airfield where you can land.”

“Criminal, Donald Kennedy?” Jim blurted, “I’ve never heard
anything so ridiculous, who are you?”

“We are the Equatorial Guinea Air Force and you Sir are under
arrest. We have orders to shoot you down if you attempt to flee our
jurisdiction.”

“But we’re over international waters?”

“We can debate that on the ground. You can either come with us
the easy way or you’ll come down the hard way.” The tone of the Mig pilot’s
voice left no room for doubt, he would shoot them down.

“Saki?” Donald asked.

“Not my area. Jim?” responded Saki.

Jim was a former RAF fighter pilot.

“I don’t think we have any option, they are serious and
there’s nothing we can do. Just one round from that cannon would rip through us
like a hot knife through butter. Never mind the missiles.”

“OK, start following him, I’ll phone the lawyers,” responded
Donald, heading back to the bedroom to break the news to Rachel.

“Where do you want us to go?” responded Jim to the Mig.

“A very good choice Captain, follow my colleague.” The other
Mig zipped in front of the A380 and began to steer them on a course which would
take them to Malabo, the capital of Equatorial Guinea.

Chapter 22

Jones’ plane touched down and he instantly sensed a problem.
Across the runway stood the US Airforce C40C jet, a modified Boeing 737-700 jet
used by government dignitaries. However, instead of standing on its own,
awaiting an afternoon departure, it was surrounded by technicians and crew. It
was preparing for a much earlier departure.

He had been instructed that no foul play was to be suspected
in the death of General Powers. They could not afford to raise any suspicion.
It had to look like an accident and to Jones, there was no easier way to cover
an assassination than a plane crash. He had a bag of tricks that would ensure
the plane and its passengers would never reach their destination.

As their plane taxied to a stop, he and his men discussed what
needed to be done. One man changed into maintenance overalls as they refined
their plan. To cover their tracks properly, they needed at least an hour with
the plane to ensure that the ‘accident’ looked like an accident. With the US
air crew all over it, they had no choice but to delay the take off long enough
for the crew to take a break and leave the airfield.

They disembarked and as his ‘maintenance man’ went to arrange
a lengthy delay, Jones made a call.

“That was quick,” answered Beaumont.

“It’s not done yet, there appears to have been a change of
plan. The plane was being readied for take off as we landed.”

“But he’s not due to leave for hours yet,” said Beaumont
looking at his laptop. He pulled up General Powers’ itinerary and noted that no
changes had been made. He was still scheduled to leave at 3.00 p.m. South
African time, over 9 hours later.

“Are you sure?” he asked

“Definitely. That plane was going to leave within the next
hour. He must have finished early.”

“Maybe,” but Beaumont didn’t like it, the whereabouts of
General Powers was a national security issue. Any change to his itinerary
should be communicated to the White House.

***

General Powers had just got into his car for the short trip to
the airport when his aide tapped him on the shoulder.

“General Powers, your pilot has just called. There’s a problem
with the aircraft, I’m sorry Sir.”

“No! Please, not today! I’m going to see my son,” he replied.

“I know Sir but it’s not good, he says it’s going to be quite
a few hours.”

“He’s positive?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Any other way we can get to the island?” he asked hopefully.

“I looked into it Sir but we have no other aircraft nearby,
certainly not close enough to be cost effective.”

His aide felt awkward about subtly reminding him that the trip
to see his son was not within his government duty and therefore not strictly
allowed. It was only through the loyalty and respect that his flight crew and
staff had for him that the ‘slight’ detour on the way home was at all feasible

“OK, pass me the phone and I’ll call Zach.”

***

Jones’ maintenance man slipped under the aircraft unnoticed
and was able to cause enough damage to the undercarriage to ensure a specialist
would be required to fix it. He then got up, walked nonchalantly past the plane
and as he did so, he stopped and stared at the wheels. Before long, two members
of the USAF crew came to see what he was looking at. They spotted the tell tale
oil drops leaking from the undercarriage.

A closer inspection resulted in the plane being rolled back
into the hangar where work to repair the burst hydraulic system would begin.
One of the technicians swore blind that he had checked it thoroughly and that
it had been fine. A simple ‘does it look fine to you now?’ response silenced
him. The hydraulic specialist confirmed that it would be a five hour job. The
USAF pilot stood his crew down and they all went to get some rest, it was going
to be a very long day.

Jones and his men, dressed as maintenance staff, joined the
hydraulic specialist and got to work.

Chapter 23

Donald had not slept all night, he could not believe what had
happened.

On arrival at the Guinean airport, they were met by over 100
heavily armed troops. He, Rachel and Saki were arrested and taken into custody.
They were each listed as a Director of Alba International and, as such, were
charged with the corporate manslaughter of over 2,500 Guineans. Donald had
protested that Rachel and Saki’s directorships were nominal and non-executive
but his protests were ignored and they were taken to the only high security
prison in Guinea. The prison housed some of the hardest and toughest criminals
in Africa.

Donald had to restrain Saki who wanted to react to one of the
guards who had pushed Rachel much harder than was necessary. They were
surrounded by guards with guns, even Saki could not get them out of this one.

They were taken to a special unit within the prison. Donald
and Saki were put in one cell while Rachel was in the cell next to them on her
own.

Just before they had landed, Donald had managed to phone his
lawyer who wasted no time in making calls to clear up the enormous misunderstanding.
However, in less than ten minutes, he discovered that his efforts were futile.
He got the same response from everywhere. A dossier had been delivered, within
the hour, to each of the major heads of state, detailing the evidence which
implicated Alba International and Donald Kennedy in the atrocities committed
against the Guinean people. The Guineans had declared their intention to use
all means necessary to bring the fugitive to justice.

The lawyer had called Donald back and broken the news, explaining
that a copy of the dossier was being sent to him from the UK Prime Minister and
as soon as he had it, he would call him back. Donald knew it would be too late.
They landed five minutes later and were arrested five minutes after that.

They were therefore still in the dark about the evidence which
implicated them and Alba in an explosion in the middle of nowhere in a tiny
town which until 48 hours earlier, they had never heard of.

“We should have phoned the kids,” said Saki annoyed at
himself.

Donald snapped out of his daze.

“I know, they’re going to find out from the media. It’s my
fault, I didn’t think for a second they would lock us up.”

“No, you were right, phoning them in the middle of the night
to tell them we were being forced to land by two fighter jets whose country
believes we killed 2,500 people was probably not the right option. If I had
strongly disagreed, I would have phoned Lela anyway,” replied Saki.

Before Donald could say anymore, they heard the scrape of a
key being inserted into the lock of their door. The heavy steel door swung open
and a huge prison guard in an ill-fitting uniform, bordering on rags, grinned
wildly at them. He was a very different breed from the professional soldiers
who had arrested them the previous evening.

“Exercise time,” he boomed.

“We’re fine thanks, we’ll just stay here if you don’t mind,”
said Saki.

Two other guards stepped forward, slapping truncheons into
their open palms, itching for an excuse to use them.

“It’s not optional, move!” shouted the huge guard.

As they stepped out of their cell, they were met by Rachel who
was accompanied by their huge guard’s uglier and even smellier brother. They
were escorted down a number of staircases and shown through a gate which
slammed shut behind them. They stood alone in a large and empty courtyard. The
guards locked the gate and disappeared. The prison was filthy and
ill-maintained. Its walls were crumbling and the courtyard’s grass was
overgrown. Pipes were burst and spewed brown liquid into one corner of the courtyard,
the pungent smell suggesting the liquid was an out-pipe, not an in-pipe.