‘Stop, don’t move!’ yelled a Special Forces operative.
The agent holding the syringe had just punctured Matt’s skin with the needle. He looked at the other agent briefly — both men were flushed and sweating from the exertion of controlling their charge. In a microsecond’s look, the agent holding the syringe pushed the button at the top, releasing the tranquilliser into Matt’s bloodstream.
Seeing this, the Special Forces operative squeezed the trigger of his automatic rifle, delivering a round directly into the agent’s head. His brains exploded in the small confines of the cabin, painting everything red and white. Matt was already slipping into unconsciousness. He had a vague sense of noise and the feeling of something warm and wet on his skin. Then it all quickly turned black.
The second agent froze, putting his hands in the air, not saying a word.
The Special Forces team smashed through the rest of the door and entered, pulling the dead agent’s body off Matt and hauling the other agent out of the room.
The Special Forces medic knelt beside Matt, checking for his pulse. ‘He’s still alive, but unconscious. We need to get him and the syringe to a hospital immediately to find out what they gave him,’ he said urgently.
Within 10 minutes, Matt was aboard the helicopter, heading towards Creswell base.
General Draven took the call from Jackson in his office. ‘Well? Is Lang secured?’ he demanded.
‘Sir, we have secured the target, neutralised one agent and taken another prisoner, along with the crew of the fishing boat.’
‘Get me on the line with Mr Lang. I need to talk to him immediately.’
‘That’s not possible, sir. He was administered a drug that has rendered him unconscious.’
‘God damn it! Well how long before we can talk to him?’ said Draven furiously.
‘Sir, he is on his way to Creswell base as we speak. Special Forces have recovered the syringe that was used, so that the sick bay people can work out what drug was used. And hopefully give him an antidote.’
‘Call me when he’s conscious,’ demanded Draven. He hung up and tossed MiLA on the desk. Standing with hands on his hips, he took a deep breath and stared at the wall, unclear on his next move.
Reaching for MiLA again, Draven called Jackson. ‘And get a security detail on Sarah Dempsey and General Simon Fletcher. I want to know where they are going, who they are seeing and what they’re doing every minute. Is that understood?’
‘Sir, that will take some time for clearance to sanction a tail for both of them, particularly General Fletcher,’ said Jackson.
Draven was fuming. He spoke slowly. ‘Listen, Jackson! If you value your job, your life and your balls then I suggest you hang up right now and make it happen — immediately.’
Draven hung up again and resumed his furious gaze at the wall.
Sarah left her office at 5.30 pm. It was a short drive to the US Embassy, but she did not want to be late. She knew what had to be done. She also knew that it was not her responsibility to make the call. This was one decision she was relieved not to be making. Parking outside the embassy, on a wide, tree-lined street, Sarah got out of her car and noticed a dark blue Ford pulling in a hundred metres behind her. She knew this had to be a tail — and that Draven had arranged it.
The man in the passenger seat spoke into a discreet headset. ‘Sir, Dempsey is parking outside of the US Embassy and is getting out of her car.’
In his office, Draven was patched in to the live feeds between the agents, listening to every word.
‘Jesus! Don’t let her into the embassy — do you understand? Do not let her get inside the embassy!’ he yelled.
The two agents in the car looked at each other, stunned. For a brief second they froze, then realised how close to the embassy Sarah was — and how far from her they were.
Both agents leapt out of the car and sprinted towards Sarah, who was already walking towards the embassy gates. She sensed the commotion behind her. Turning, she saw the two men bearing down on her. She began to run. The embassy gates were close, but she could now hear the agents’ footsteps close behind her. Breathlessly, she ran to the security gate at the embassy, fumbling briefly with her bag to get out her security ID for the sentry. Glancing to her left, she saw that the two agents were less than 10 metres away now — they’d be upon her in seconds.
‘Thank you, ma’am. Please come in,’ said the smiling sentry, oblivious to the commotion.
Sarah lurched through the gate as the two agents skidded to a stop just outside it. She sprinted to the main door of the old stone building, brushing down her suit jacket and smoothing her hair back, trying to compose herself and catch her breath. Glancing back, she saw the two agents — bent over, red-faced and out of breath, looking up at her.
Inside the embassy, Fletcher and General Stephens were already talking to the ambassador and Colonel Gregory, a high-ranking US Air Force officer. Walking into the opulent office, Sarah was still catching her breath. The men stopped their conversation and looked around.
‘Ah, Sarah. Please come and join us,’ said General Stephens, the picture of composure. ‘Colonel Gregory here, from USAF, was just taking us through the flight plan.’
‘Thank you, General,’ said Sarah, walking over to the table where they were huddled.
She positioned herself beside Fletcher, leaning over to whisper in his ear. ‘Draven is onto us. I just had some agents try to stop me from getting in here.’
Fletcher nodded slowly before turning his head, whispering to Sarah with a wink, ‘Nothing they can do now.’
‘Well, Matt could go to the press, let the Chinese know of our plan and allow them to make some threat. Once that happens our plan’s over,’ said Sarah, trying desperately to whisper, but her voice breaking from the stress.
Fletcher took Sarah by the arm and led her away from the table. General Stephens didn’t notice, engrossed as he was in conversation with the ambassador and Colonel Gregory. Once out of earshot, Fletcher gently turned Sarah to face him, with both hands on her shoulders. ‘Listen, Sarah. Pull yourself together. You’ve come this far — don’t blow it now by losing your bottle. Perhaps we need to have a chat with General Draven and explain things. I’m sure he, of all people, will understand what we’re trying to do here.’
Sarah nodded, taking a deep breath, trying to restore her composure.
Chapter 22
A medical team was waiting on the helipad as the navy helicopter swooped in. The pilot jerked the helicopter back suddenly while landing, the motion like a rider reining in an out-of-control horse. The whole machine shuddered under the stress of the rapid deceleration. Matt was lying unconscious on a stretcher in the back of the dimly-lit cabin, crowded in by the medic and some members of the Special Forces team. Before the chopper had landed, the side door slid open. As soon as the landing struts hit the tarmac the medical team was upon Matt, moving him onto a gurney.
The Special Forces medic ran alongside the gurney, yelling to the doctor above the roar of the helicopter’s rotors.
After analysing what was left of the drug in the syringe that had been injected into Matt, the doctors ascertained the type of tranquilliser, and an antidote was administered. Matt slowly came around. He was still very groggy, talking gibberish. It took a few long minutes for him to shake off the drug-induced cloud fogging his mind.