Everything to Lose (5 page)

"I'll
be going back to the States at the end of the year. I've been appointed head of research and development."

"Great!
I mean congratulations. I hope we can keep our collaboration going," he enthused and a silent sigh of relief ushered into his mind.

"I'd
like to send some of my staff over for research training."

"Brilliant,
Sharon that will be great."

"If
you think you can cope," she said mysteriously.

"What
do you mean?"

"Are
you well enough to be running around Hampshire starting up new research?" she asked and looked sideways at him.

"It's
not the back end of beyond and it's only a seventy-five minutes flight from Glasgow to Southampton."

"You've
just had a transplant operation."

"I'm
fine. A stomach transplant isn't life threatening. If I had a choice at the time I would have told them to cut out the damaged parts and stitch-up the good parts instead of a putting in a transplant. I could do without the anti-rejection meds."

For
a second Gavin thought back to the outcome of his deadly clash with Sir James Barscadden. Others died horribly and he suffered damage to his stomach. Luckily the stomach of one of the casualties was a reasonable match and enabled an emergency transplant.

More
than any other Sharon Bonny had visited Gavin during his recovery. She insisted in moving him to a top private hospital for recuperation. All paid by her family brewing business.

"What
about your nightmares Gavin?"

"Less
frequent but a bit more intense."

"Is
it still the same nightmare each time?" she asked as she studied his face.

"Look
Sharon it's nothing really."

"I'd
like to know. I've always had this theory that nightmares are reflections of a past life. Maybe you were a famous Scot like William Wallace or Rob Roy."

"I
don't think so Sharon."

She
stood in front of him face-to-face and stared into his eyes.

"Indulge
me for one minute Gavin. Are you a living descendant of William Wallace?" she asked theatrically.

"No
I'm not."

"Do
you see any tartan, broad swords, lochs, castles or anything like that in your dream?"

"Look
it's nothing like that. I just find myself in what I think is a small boat. It's in the sea and sinking, water is flooding in then I wake up. I'm not frightened. It's not really a nightmare."

"Did
you have a fear of water when you were a child?"

"My
primary school had a swimming pool so I learned to swim very young. I was top of the class for holding my breath under water," he said and his voice revealed increasing annoyance.

"Then
this could be an experience from a previous life. Tell me when you have the next one. There may be another hint, maybe a word or sentence in ancient tongue. Now if you suddenly speak in old Gaelic language that would be significant."

"Do
you mean like Ghlaschu?"

"Did
you hear that in your nightmare?" her voice raised an excited notch.

Gavin
Shawlens reached for the door, held it open and waived her through.

"No,
I heard it on the radio. It means Glasgow."

"What's
the rush?" She sounded disappointed.

"I
have to tell someone else I'm going away for a while."

7

Paisley
,
Central
Scotland

Gavin Shawlens parked his car in Broomlands Street outside Paisley Woodside Cemetery rather than drive up the hill to the car park. He wanted to walk up the winding road and feel the peaceful tranquillity of a hilltop cemetery. Sunlight was fading and a wonderful sunset was approaching the west of Scotland for those with time to look at it.

The
Woodside design was inspired by the garden cemetery at Glasgow Necropolis, which had taken its inspiration from the Père la Chaise in Paris. The hilltop garden cemetery laid out in Paris in 1804.

Inside
the gate he passed the modern cemetery office on his left and walked forward past the Martyrs Church on his right. When he reached the fork in the road overlooked by the monument erected to the memory of the Rev. Patrick Brewster he paused for a minute to admire the statue.

When
he started walking he looked up the road and it reminded him that on Google maps the roads seem to carve out the shape of a champagne coupe leaning slightly to the left. He took the left fork which is intended for vehicles rather than the right fork for pedestrians. As he walked up the road traffic noise from the street below faded to the quiet sounds of birds and the rustle of trees.

The
right fork would have taken him past the garden of remembrance, the waiting rooms, the crematorium and the long straight stretch of road that connects with the left fork in the road. He was heading for the top of the hill at the corner before the left fork joins the long straight stretch.

It
wasn't a strenuous climb up the hill for Gavin who occupied a lean and muscular five foot eight frame. He kept himself fit by jogging and regular visits to the University judo club. As he walked past the headstones he thought of his parents. Born in Govan on the south side of Glasgow. He grew up in a compact two-bedroom tenement flat with his older sister Siobhan. His working class parents were dead. He enjoyed a happy childhood, loved them both and missed them dearly. He was very close to Siobhan and they kept in touch.

Gavin
stopped at the Baxster family grave where Emma Patersun her mum and sister were buried together. The sun had set on the cemetery and light was fading through the trees when he stood at the headstone.

After
six in the evening, the October darkness falls quickly because the cemetery is populated with many tall and imposing trees that provide a tightly enclosed canopy. So many that it's impossible to see through them to gain what would be a spectacular view of the town of Paisley from the top of the hill.

For
many the onset of darkness in Woodside Cemetery would be too scary to remain long among the statutes, headstones and spooky wildlife. Gavin seemed oblivious to the shifting shadows and the weird noises from the bushes and trees. His mind was locked on other more personal thoughts.

"It's
a lovely evening Emma. We should be walking out with my arm around your shoulder. I think the stars will come out for us tonight. It's not too cold. You won't need to put your hand in my jacket pocket to keep it warm.

Oh
Emma when can I come to you? Try to let me know it'll be okay. I'm so scared in case it's not allowed. I'd never ever see you again. I pray God will take me soon. Then I can be with you again and my dear mum and dad."

A
noisy 737 jet roared high above him. It was circling, heading for Glasgow airport. Gavin shifted his focus to try and identify the intruding airline but the angle was wrong and he couldn't see.

"Life
here is empty without you. Like endless desert sands. I feel so weak, so tired. I belong with you. I always have and I always will. I know when we met and I was just a stupid kid. I didn't know what it was like to love someone so deeply it rips your head apart when they're gone."

A
pickup truck with two men inside drove past slowly and they looked closely at Gavin. They decided he did not look like a vandal. Gavin looked at his watch and thought that it was probably the groundsmen leaving for the night.

"Do
you remember the very first time you kissed me? It was the back row of the old Odeon cinema in Glasgow. We went to see Robin Williams in Mrs Doubtfire. I remember how feverously I wanted those kisses every time we met. I got the DVD last week. When I close my eyes I'm back there with you. I love you Emma. I can still smell your lovely Helena Rubinstein Apple Blossom."

He
leaned forward and placed the fingers of his right hand on the grey marble headstone. A blackbird flew from an overhanging branch and passed his head by no more than a few inches. His eyes tracked the bird as it landed on the branch of another tree.

"Sweetheart
I'm so sorry. The Lambeth Group are dragging me away from you. I'll be away from your side for a couple of months. You still love me Emma, don't you? Please don't feel lonely. Please, please don't meet someone new. I can't face losing you again. Please wait for me."

Gavin
stepped back from the headstone and stumbled on the uneven ground. He took a photo from his inside pocket. He stared at her photo of her smiling face in his hand and tears rolled down his cheeks.

Emma
Patersun, née Baxster, was forty years old when she was killed. She had silky straw blonde hair that lay on her shoulders with the ends curled gently into her neck parted in middle with long whispers neatly covering her forehead. She had a trim waist, attractive emerald green eyes and a distinctive Audrey Hepburn oval-shaped face. Her soft velvet voice and smile could melt the heart of any man.

Gavin first met Emma when he was sixteen. She was the love of his life for eighteen months
until she decided to move on. He hadn't seen her again until they were reunited earlier this year through work. His re-awakened bliss lasted only four months before she was brutally murdered by associates of James Barscadden.

"I'll
close for now but not my heart. It's open for you, always. Please think of me every morning at seven. I'll be thinking of you. We can be together. Goodnight Emma. Sweet dreams."

As
Gavin arrived back at his car his mobile phone rang. It was his sister Siobhan. Since the day Emma Patersun was taken from him she phoned him every week. She remembered how devastated and suicidal he became when Emma left him the first time for another man.

She
pulled him out of the melancholy, pushed him through university and onto a normal life. She knew she had to keep him grounded. She put her daughter Kirsty on to speak to her uncle. Gavin heard all the gossip about Kirsty's school friends, what they were doing, who was in and who was out of her circle and the latest joke.

"What
did the envelope say to the stamp?"

"I
don't know."

"Stick
with me and we'll go places. Bye uncle Gavin."

Kirsty
is always funny, optimistic and sunny side up. Gavin told Siobhan he was going on a sabbatical to Hampshire for a few months. When she asked, he told her that some research in the University of South England had gone pear-shaped and he had agreed to help them get it back on track. He said he would phone when he could. She told him he'd better or she'd send Kirsty after him. Siobhan felt his heart had lifted and he sounded more positive.

8

Ardwell
Point
,
South
-
West
Scotland

Sir James Barscadden was once a respected prominent billionaire and greatly connected industry mogul. Then his evil empire and private army were exposed and he quickly fell from grace. Almost immediately he disappeared and caused shock waves in the London political and business circles. It seemed certain all his dirty secrets would become known.

One
person in Downing Street was particularly anxious about exposure of a close relationship with Barscadden. The Prime Minister felt intensely betrayed by his once personal and trusted friend and acutely worried about the confidence he shared with Barscadden and the personal favours he had done for Barscadden. In public the PM condemned Barscadden and assured the press and voters that James Barscadden would be found and brought to justice.

Privately
the PM met with Sir Milton Johhns, head of MI5 and ordered him to take charge of the operation to find Barscadden. The PM warned Johhns that if Barscadden survived to face a trial he could bring down the Government. Johhns consulted with his opposite number in MI6 and they agreed the SAS would need to deal with Barscadden's private bodyguard known as WRATH.

MI6
regularly use the counter-revolutionary wing (CRW) of the SAS as an executive arm. Officially involved in training the CRW was formed in 1975 by the then PM Edward Heath to prepare for attacks similar to the massacre at the 1972 Summer Olympics.

A
high state of surveillance was ordered using spy satellites on permanent geo-station over the UK. Monitored by GCHQ they kept a rotating watch on potential points of extraction including private airstrips. They searched the country for suspicious activity or unusual movement.

Intelligence
suggested James Barscadden, Peter Bromlee, three members of Gige's Ring and eight of his WRATH bodyguards were on the run. It was too large a group for an easy skip off the British mainland.

Satellite
G19 scanning the west Scottish coastline yielded one object of interest. It was an exquisite 159 foot super-yacht off the south coast of Scotland. It dropped anchor eight miles south of Portpatrick. A picturesque harbour village but hardly on a par with the typical fleshpots of the Cote d' Azure, normally frequented by super-yachts.

At
8:05 p.m. almost eighteen hours after the yacht dropped anchor, a removal van and two large MPV's arrived near the beach at Ardwell Bay. The sky was thick with slow moving dark cloud and the night was ink black. The satellite's thermal image feed provided a clear image of what was happening on the ground.

Senior
MI5 staff led by Alan M Cairn gathered to assess the fast moving situation. Cairn decided on a 'fastball' operation to hit Barscadden in the middle of his escape. Fastball ops are good for surprise but less good for people who like to plan and prepare.

Twenty
minutes after Alan Cairn issued the 'go' command, members of CRW on standby, sat in two rows of eight facing each other on a thundering Chinook HC3 helicopter from 7 Squadron Special Forces Flight. Meticulously they checked their equipment and comms as the Chinook transported them to Dumfries on the Scottish border.

One
troop was deployed consisting of two teams of eight, Alpha and Bravo, sixteen troopers in total. There were fourteen men and two women. In overall command Captain Zoe Tampin, leading Alpha team, would take the point.

Zoe Tampin was well known for rapid thinking under extreme pressure. She first worked with CRW in Bosnia on covert operations to round up Bosnian war criminals. She earned massive respect as she used gender and guile to execute impressive arrests of unsuspecting criminals.

The Chinook dropped Zoe and her troopers off in a farmer's field and they transferred to a waiting convoy of five black Land Rover Defender 110 hard top vehicles. The troopers and gear transferred quickly and the convoy raced west along the A75.

They
left the A75 at Whitecrook and onto the B7084 then they followed a series of minor roads to the west coast where the yacht was anchored off Ardwell Point. When they passed through Clachanmore they found a fork in the road at Low Ardwell. It was 11.14 p.m. They took the left-hand fork and when they passed through High Ardwell they went dark and silent. Zoe gave the order to 'go green' and night vision goggles were locked into place. They saw the target yacht anchored 700 metres off Ardwell Point.

Close
to the beach the road adopts an inland forward sloping S-shape. The convoy stopped at the top bend of the road and deployed like a family of mice. Zoe had split her force up into two teams for an attack from two sides.

Zoe's
team would follow the S-shaped road down to the beach at Ardwell Bay. A 400 metre trot along the road down to the south end of Ardwell Bay, four minutes easy-peasy. Their attack would approach the beach from the east.

Bravo
team would head southwest over fields to Base Hole then north up to Doon Hill. Their approach to the beach would be from the south. A 700-metre trot and Zoe allowed them eight minutes to get there. They would have the advantage of higher ground over-looking the beach. To ensure the troopers didn't fire on each other they wore 'high vis' patches that were seen brightly in night vision goggles.

When
Zoe's team arrived at Ardwell Bay they came across a removal van and two MPV's, all doors wide open. Inside the removal van they saw it was kitted out for living quarters. From live feed cameras on the helmets, the MI5 operation commander Alan Cairn saw where Barscadden had been hiding.

The
feed was relayed by GCHQ to an operations room in MI5 headquarters at Thames House, a Grade II listed building at the corner of Millbank and Horseferry Road in central London, which overlooks Lambeth Bridge, a few hundred yards south of the Houses of Parliament on the north bank of the Thames.

A WRATH lookout spotted the SAS troopers at the removal van and engaged them before retreating back toward the beach. Barscadden's men on the beach took cover in the rocky outcrops known as Mary Wilson's Slunk at the south end of beach.

An
intense firefight on the Slunk lasted eleven minutes. Barscadden's men retreated through the Slunk towards the sea then south toward Doon Castle Broch where they met and were pinned down by the Bravo team approaching from Base Hole.

The
rocks were treacherous in the dark, many at chest height, jutting angles, slippery surfaces with large and small awkward gullies between them. Perfect for tripping and trapping anxiously moving boots.

The
forensics and the medics would find many cuts and bruises on the legs and feet of the bodies where the rocks had taken part in the fight. It wasn't the first time but it has been a long time since so much blood was spilled on Mary Wilson's Slunk. None of them knew that the large pile of stones they used for cover were the remains of Doon Castle Broch. An old Scottish castle dating back to 100 BC.

Three
of Barscadden's men were killed in the Slunk. Two were killed at Ardwell point and one was captured. The remaining two were killed at Doon Castle Broch. One SAS trooper was badly injured but stable and three were slightly injured including Zoe Tampin.

Zoe's
team had flushed Barscadden's men out of Mary Wilson's Skunk and caught up with three of them among the rocks at Ardwell Point. Zoe and her sergeant Antonia (Toni) Bornadetti crashed into their position from behind. One man was already dead. His right foot stuck between two rocks he couldn't move to cover and didn't surrender so he was an easy target.

Toni
got onto the nearest man and knocked him unconscious when she drove the retracted butt stock of her silenced MP5SD Heckler & Koch into the side of his head before he heard her.

The
other man was a bit further away and got off a round at Zoe from his handgun as he turned. She killed him with a headshot. His 9 mm round ripped three inches of flesh from her upper left arm. Toni and Zoe lay low while Toni applied a field dressing to stem Zoe's blood loss. At least they would have one captive to interrogate.

When
it kicked off, Zoe cried 'weapons hot' into the comm headsets and called for the IRC (inflatable raiding craft). The van towing it raced down to Ardwell Bay. Zoe and five troopers took the IRC out to the yacht. As the IRC approached the crew lined up with their hands in the air, captain, first officer, engineer, three deckhands, housekeeper, chef and two stewards. When the fighting started the crew switched on all the deck lights so their surrender could be seen.

On
board the SAS troopers searched the yacht. Sitting in the lounge Zoe found three of Barscadden's inner circle executed by single headshots. Beside them lay two large 500 litre silver alloy trunks. No sign of Barscadden or Bromlee.

When
Zoe grabbed the captain by the throat he pointed his arm out to sea. Zoe ran around to the side of the yacht just in time to see the yacht's speedboat floating aimless in the wake of an old submarine moving rapidly forward into a dive.

The
crew confirmed Barscadden and Bromlee had taken seven trunks on board the submarine and had left the last two when the shooting started. Bromlee had executed the three people in the lounge before he left.

"Control.
You watching this?" Zoe asked.

"Yes.
We didn't spot that tub on the satellite image. Must have been hiding under the yacht," Alan Cairn replied.

"How
far can a small thing like that go?"

"It's
about sixty meters long so we think it's an old Soviet Quebec class coastal submarine. Range not more than 2000 nautical miles. It won't get him across the pond. Best guess he'll make landfall in Europe."

"Unless
he organised a refuel at sea."

"Of
course that's possible," Alan conceded.

"Shit.
Can we scramble air support to bomb the bastard?" Toni asked.

"He's
too close to fishing and ferry lanes."

"Good
planning. Smart decoy. Got to give him that," Zoe said.

Zoe
watched the submarine conning tower disappear into the sea through her night enhancement goggles. Sergeant Antonia (Toni) Bornadetti inspected the expanding bloodstain on Zoe's arm bandage.

"
Well done boss. It's still a good result," Toni said.

"
We're not done yet," Zoe turned and curled her lip at Toni.

"
What's next?"

"Fancy a bit of R&R in Hampshire?
"

"Yeah
that would be good. I've got mates in Portsmouth. So what's going down in Hampshire?"

"
We'll soon find out."