Sabre Six : File 51

JAMIE FINERAN

Sabre Six : File 51

Sabre Six : File 51

Copyright © 2013
Jamie Fineran

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or utilised in any form or by any means,

electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording

or by any information storage and retrieval system

without permission in writing.

All Characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance

to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

E
nquiries should be addressed to

Percy Publishing

Field House,

93 Theydon Park Road
,

Theydon Bois,

Essex. CM16 7LS.

England.

www.percy-publishing.com

Kindle Edition

1
st
Published July 2013

ISBN : 978-0-9571568-
3-8

Cover Design Copyright © 2013 Percy Publishing

Percy Publishing is a Clifford Marker Associates Ltd Company

Cover Image : George Young

Competition Winner 2013

Be the Face of Michael Fox

I’d like to dedicate this book to my wife Debbie & William for their support whilst writing this novel.

I would also like to thank Ruth Killeen for her belief in me and guiding me in the right direction.

Thanks to Cherry Burroughs & Clifford for getting everything squared away.

For Phil Campion and John Giddings for their kindness and generosity.

I’d also like to thank all the boys serving, and that have served, from both battalions of the Princess of Wales’s Royal Regiment.

Sabre Six : File 51 was written by Jamie Fin
eran, a former soldier who served two tours in Northern Ireland during the 1990s. He is now married to Debbie, with his twelve year old step-son. Jamie now works at Parkhurst Prison on the Isle of Wight which held some of Britain’s most notorious criminals of the twentieth century.

Jamie Fineran

www.jamiefineran.com

www.facebook.com/jamie.fineran.14

@JamieMFineran

Sabre Six : File 51

Chapter One: Sabre Six – File 51

Paris, Gare du Nord, 2013 

The train station was very familiar to me: it was spotless. The departure lounge was superb! I couldn’t fault the place. It was a design of excellence.

“Bonjour
, Monsieur! Puis-je avoir un billet pour Londres, s’il vous plait.  Merci.”

“Merci
, Monsieur. C’est Plate-forme Un, à 19:45 heures
.”

I sat down and took a
breather for five minutes,
totally shattered. I was contemplating buying another coffee, but decided against it as time was pushing on.

I looke
d up, viewing the screen above indicating the departures to London. I noticed that my train was arriving shortly, so I picked up my bag and walked over to the check-in desk. I showed the officer my passport, walked through the barrier and onto the platform.

“Excuse me
, Sir!” A middle aged, suited and booted gentleman with a thick London accent walked up to me. He looked like an educated fella, and his shoes were like mirrors: he must be important!

“Are you talking to me
, mate?” I looked at him calmly.

“Yes
, Sir. Would you follow me, Sir? We just need to ask you a few questions about your travel plans to the United Kingdom.”

“But my train is about to leave!”

“Don’t worry about that, Sir: you’ll be fine. Just come with me and we’ll explain everything in a moment.” I felt a little flustered, as I hadn’t seen my beautiful wife and daughter Frances in ages.

“That’s it
, Sir – just through there! Do you fancy a coffee Michael?”

“Oi! H
ow the hell do you know my name, buddy?” I asked, not knowing what the heck was going on.

“Just sit here and relax. S
omeone will be with you shortly.”

“Oi, I’m talking to you
, mate! Answer my fucking question!” I clenched my fist: was this a set up? I stood up. The room was very small. There were two seats, a small table, and a coffee and tea making machine in the corner.

“Michael
, sit the fuck down and shut up! Quit the fucking moaning, you sound like a girl!” In walked a man I hadn’t seen in a very long time. The last time I saw Stan, I saved his life in Iraq. I remained standing, feeling a little emotional. He was a great character.

“My Go
d, if it isn’t my old mate Stan! What the hell are you doing here buddy?”

“Michael, you haven’t changed much have you!”

“More than can be said for you, stranger. What the hell happened to you, you wanker?” Stan stood there in a very posh suit – Marks & Spencer’s by the looks of it too! Christ! He had hair gel and everything going on. 

“I’ve settled down now
, mate. Well, kind of anyway. What about you Michael, and how’s Hannah?”

“Yeah, she’s good thanks. Frances
is growing up quick too; got a new dog now! A little Jack Russell called Griffer. A right little character – he reminds me of Nig!”

“Well, I’m sure he’s a right little character if he reminds you of Nig!”

“It’s been a while now hasn’t it?”

“It sure has
, Michael.”

“Hey,
hey, enough of the sombre stuff! What have you got me down here for anyhow? What do you want, knob-head?”

Stan sat down with a coffee in his hand.
“We need your help Michael.”

“Stan, who the fuck is ‘
we’? Who are you working for now, mate?”

“MI5
, mate. I’ve been with the Spooks for nearly two years now.”

“I thought you were leaving all this behind and marrying Maggie
, mate? I thought you were settling down and having kids?”

“Things change
, buddy. You know all about that, don’t you?”

“Yeah, you’re right mate, you’re
right!”

“Anywa
y, I need you to do me a favour. It pays well, Michael.”

“How much?”

“£10,000, cash.”

“Ok, I’m listening.
I don’t think Hannah will be happy, but ten grand is ten grand. What’s the job then, Stan?”

“We need you to follow someone for us
, Michael – back to London.”

“When?”

“Now!”

“What do you mean, now?”

“Well, like I just said! He’s booked on the same train as you, which we’ve delayed for half an hour.”

“How the fuck did you know I was here by the way?”

“Your passport, Michael. We knew our target was on site but then your profile flagged up when we did a passenger check, so we pulled you as I knew you wouldn’t let me down.” He started laughing.

“Ok mate, who’s the target, what’s your beef with him?”

“Our target is Ryan Killeen, ex IRA. Once the IRA shut down in 1998, or shall we say, quietened down, Killeen started gun running for the Taliban.”

“The little fucker! S
o what you got on him then?”

“Ah mate, we’ve got enough, but not enough to take him out! He’s working for the Taliban, selling guns to them across the border from Pakistan into Afghanistan!”