Extra Special Agent
By Tanya Allan
Extra Special Agent - Copyright2013 Tanya J. Allan
The author asserts her moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited.
This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge.
The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone.
The Author
With enormous experience of life, the author brings to life some of the nastier sides of the human condition, with many of the better attributes. Having started writing as a teenager, but never publishing anything until the half century loomed, Tanya successfully brought together elements of the real world, her dreams, fantasies and failed aspirations to breathe life into three-dimensional characters and situations that warrant further attention. Known for producing happy endings (for the most part), but also keen to see true justice is seen to be done, which unfortunately doesn’t happen as often as it should in real life.
Now concentrating on writing, the author enjoys foreign travel, family, faith and furry friends.
I’d like to thank three great people, without whom this tome would not be half as good.
Editors: Tom Peashey & Don Kaufman
Book Cover Design: Kirstyn Fox
Books by Tanya Allan
Her AMAZON.COM PAGE: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004VTB5OQ
A Chance Would be a Fine Thing (Book 1 - The Knox Journals)
A Wedding and Two Wars (Book 2 - The Knox Journals)
A Fairy’s Tale
Amber Alert
Behind The Enemy (Book 1 Louisa Anderson’s Story)
Beginning’s End (Book 2 Louisa Anderson’s Story)
Dragons & Stuff!
Emma*
Every Little Girl’s Dream
Extra Special Agent
Flight or Fight
Fortune’s Soldier
Gruesome Tuesday*
It Couldn’t Happen, Could it?
In Plain Sight*
Marine I: Agent of Time*
Modern Masquerade
Monique*
Queen of Hearts*
Ring the Change
Shit Happens – so do Miracles*
Skin*
Tango Golf: Cop with a Difference
The Candy Cane Club
The Hard Way*
The Other Side of Dreams
There’s No Such Thing as a Super Hero
The Summer Job & Other Stories
To Fight For a Dream*
Twisted Dreams*
Weird Wednesday*
When Fortune Smiles
When I Count to Three
Whispers in the Mind*
Whispers in the Soul*
*Paperbacks can be found here: http://www.feedaread.com/profiles/368/
Tanya’s Website: http://tanyastales.yolasite.com/
Prologue
The man in the water knew what he was doing. He was very good at his job. But then he knew it, having spent the last fifteen years doing this kind of work. Initially working with a US Navy SEAL team, and latterly with one of the specialist agencies; he knew that he was one of the best in the business. Being one of the best didn’t mean he ever took that fact for granted. Knowing that one little slip-up could end a man’s career instantly gives a man that edge.
Barely a ripple marked his progress, not a bubble and not a sound as he made landfall. He emerged from the sea in the shadow of a huge rock and on the moonless night. With his matt-black wetsuit he was almost invisible, almost. As he emerged from the inky water, he very gently removed the tank from his back, the mask from his face and lowered them to the soft sand. He placed the harness on top, still making no sound. He slipped off his flippers and, easing his Beretta from its waterproof holster, he checked it and gently pulled the slide back, feeding a round into the chamber.
With the gun resting on a convenient rock, he quietly scraped a hole in the soft sand and rolled his now redundant equipment into it. He smoothed the sand over, marking the spot with a rock.
He returned his Beretta to the holster and then he opened another pouch, slipping on the night vision eye-set and looking about him.
The small beach was inaccessible from the island, as a steep cliff surrounded it. This was why it had been chosen as the only possible landing site.
He made his way to the cliff and started to climb. It was quite treacherous and about seventy feet high. Loose rocks and stones made it precarious in the daylight, so at night it was doubly so. To try to manage it in silence was a real challenge.
But manage it he did. He climbed slowly, methodically and very carefully with the sharp flints cutting through the thin gloves he was wearing. Sweat trickled down his back and he began to tire. It had been a long swim and now the climb was exceptionally arduous. He was fit, well trained and determined, so slowly the top inched closer.
Unfortunately for the swimmer, an underwater motion-sensor had activated when he had been fifty-metres from the shore. Programmed to react to large objects, such as a man, it simply activated as he swam within fifteen feet of it. A small red light blinked on a console in the Island’s control centre.
“Madre de Dios! Otro! No dejan de alguna vez?” (Mother of God. Another one. Don’t they ever give up?) said the man in the armchair, as he picked up the telephone.
“Sector four, the beach,” he said in Spanish.
“How many of them?”
“I don’t know, judging by the signal, probably one. He will be in camera range when he gets to the top of the cliff.”
“Okay, is the boss in?”
“Yes, I think he’s asleep.”
“Do you want to tell him?”
“Only if the bastard gets through. Otherwise, I’ll tell him in the morning. Are the dogs loose?”
“Not yet, those vicious bastards make such a noise, he’ll be back in the water before we could get anywhere near him.”
“I’ll let you know when I get a visual.”
“Okay, I’ll send the boys out.”
He hung up the phone, isolated one specific camera and switched it to infrared.
The climber reached the top of the cliff and very slowly and cautiously popped his head up to get a quick view of the lay of the land. There were a few lights near the enormous house, but none here so he was in almost total darkness. However, even those few lights were bright and enough to distort his head set, so he was momentarily blinded.
There were trees and shrubs almost up the edge of the cliff, and judging by the old roots he had encountered, some more had probably been on the edge not that long ago.