The group was small, amounting to eleven men and women including himself and McCitrick. As Munroe was led into the adjoining briefing room the sound of chatter fell silent and every one of the attendees stared over at the new arrival including Sloan, who made her way over to join them both.
“Apologies for giving you the bitchy treatment over the past few days, but you’re not in until you’re in. Know what I mean?”
Munroe nodded his head and shook her outstretched hand. “No complaints, Jax. Anyway, I’ve not officially accepted the position.”
Sloan glanced over at McCitrick and rolled her eyes before slapping her palm down onto Munroe’s shoulder. “Oh yes you have, Ethan. Welcome to the team.”
Munroe didn’t respond immediately, but then he nodded with content acceptance as McCitrick ushered him towards two people standing nearby, as the rest of the small crowd once more broke out in conversation.
“Each of the three countries in DS5’s charter has three operatives and a section head. On top of that are each of the defence heads of those countries and on our side the Home Secretary. Fifteen people in all.”
“Minus the politicians I only see eleven.”
“The UK is… was… down by two,” McCitrick said, gently patting Munroe on the back. “Now we’re down by only one. The two MI6 agents Icarus killed. They were ours. C’mon, let me introduce you to some people, and don’t get your nose bent out of joint if they’re a bit hostile. New DS5 operatives don’t usually enter the fray so quickly, and these people are only doing their job.”
“And that is?”
“To be suspicious,” McCitrick said under his breath, “just like I am.”
Suspicious or not, the cavalier attitude on display of such monumental revelations was, to Munroe, somewhat jarring at first, but a part of him was loving it. His ambition for wanting to join the military’s special services had always been about being the best he could be, pushing his abilities and seeing how far he could go, but the conservative decorum of such a life had never suited him very well. Here, though, was an organisation with inflexible moral demands, a place he could push his skills to their limits and be part of something that had worldwide implications.
“Colonel Anne Sinclair, US Sector Chief, and Colonel Jacques Remus, French Sector Chief. May I introduce Ethan Munroe, our newest recruit.”
Sinclair was in her mid-forties with blonde hair, peppered with grey, and her green piercing eyes were accentuated by her pale white skin tone. She shook Munroe’s hand, followed by Colonel Remus who, dressed in full military khaki, appeared far friendlier. He offered Munroe a smile and a firm handshake.
“Welcome,” Remus said in a thick French accent, motioning towards McCitrick. “John tells us you’re going to be a strong asset to the team. Too fast for my liking, but if John says he trusts you then I can live with it.”
Munroe remained relaxed and calm. Rank had never bothered him. “Pleasure to meet you, Colonel, and good to be on board, although I’m still in the briefing stage. Over seventy years of new history is a lot to learn and process.”
“Isn’t it just, and call me Remus,” the Frenchman said in a deep, husky voice. With his black, receding hairline and long face there was a look of Jean Reno, the French actor, about him. “We don’t do rank at DS5, only respect for the chain of command, and as for processing, you better get your mind clear. With Parliament still smoking things are going to move fast.”
Remus’s blunt talk was appreciated by Munroe and he replied accordingly, wanting to show his best. “You can count on it, Remus. I’m ready to go as and when. Just give the word.”
“Good,” the Frenchman replied, displaying a satisfied smile.
“Unlike Remus here I like rank,” Sinclair interrupted, staring at Munroe frostily. “You can call me Colonel Sinclair, and we should thank you for the intel on Daedalus’s attack. It may have come too late, but the connection to Kessler is invaluable.”
“Thank you, Colonel, but I’d say luck had a lot to do with it,” Munroe replied, staying humble, but Sinclair was quick to admonish the idea.
“Bullshit. Luck had nothing to do with it. I like my people to be honest in their assessments. Do well and pat yourself on the back, screw up and be prepared to admit it and suffer the consequences. In our business we may have to lie to people about our intentions, but we don’t lie to ourselves. Understand?”
“I understand,” he replied, blank-faced. “In that case, yes, it was a remarkable piece of work and use of my skills, Colonel.”
Sinclair stared at him for a moment coldly and her eyes tightened, but then a thin smile appeared on her lips and she expelled a deep laugh. “I’ve seen your record and your handling of Kessler. I’ve seen the CCTV footage. You’re an experienced operator with a sharp mind, and that’s exactly what we need, especially now, given the shitstorm at Westminster.”
It was McCitrick who interrupted. “We all share gathered intel with one another. Nothing is held back, politics has no place in what we do. And command is shared equally between section heads. An order from any of these two is as good as coming from my own mouth.”
For a clandestine military unit it was pretty liberal thinking, but Munroe approved, and after spending the last few years in the public sector the ethos was welcomed. “Good to know, sir. That’s the way I like it.”
The response drew a smile from Remus but it quickly faded. “Good, you’ll fit right in, my friend. But don’t fuck up or you will feel the full weight of my boots.”
“Also good to know, Remus,” Munroe replied as Remus now turned his attention to McCitrick and began speaking as if Munroe wasn’t even there.
“I like him, John. But I don’t like the circumstances around his leaving the military. Honourable discharge or not. Try that shit in my unit and I would have locked you up and thrown away the key. Permanently.”
Munroe said nothing as McCitrick considered his reply, but surprisingly it was Sinclair who came to his defence.
“We’ve all fucked up at some point in our career, Remus. Even you. I’ve seen his record, just as you have, and that’s the only blemish I could find. I can only speak for myself, but I’m only interested in what he brings to the table going forward.”
“I agree,” McCitrick added, and Munroe watched Remus share a gaze with the other two section heads. He found the whole discussion very strange. In the military this was the kind of conversation that would usually be held behind closed doors, but yet here they were, putting their cards on the table right in front of him. DS5 was just as McCitrick had told him it was. No bullshit, and everyone open to a fault. Everyone knew where everyone stood and the chain of command was the only thing sacrosanct… Munroe liked it.
“OK, Ethan,” Remus said finally, turning his attention back to Munroe. “Let us see what you can do.”
The other two heads nodded in agreement as Remus motioned to the others behind them, still in conversation among themselves. “Why don’t you meet the others.”
“Introductions will have to wait, I’m afraid,” McCitrick said, glancing over at the three large monitors on the wall. “The three wise kings will be online any moment.”
“Three ‘wise’ kings?” Munroe asked and received a forced smile from McCitrick.
“Just a nickname for the Defence and Home secretaries from each country. But don’t let the ‘king’ part fool you. With the potential change of political guard we keep them in check as much as they do us. Now if you could give us a moment.”
The three section heads filtered away from him and Munroe was left with Sloan, who had been listing to the whole conversation.
“They’re a motley bunch,” Sloan said, motioning to the small group of DS5 operatives chatting among themselves. “But once you get to know them you’ll realise they’re the best at what they do. Believe me. I’d rather have these lot watching my back than a brigade of regulars. And as for Remus, he’s probably got more operational experience under his belt than everyone put together. He ran covert operations during the Bosnian War as a sniper and ran French special forces in Afghanistan and Iraq.”
“How about Sinclair?”
“She’s recent to DS5, about a year, but before she worked mainly in army intelligence. Tough old broad though, and with the resolve of a steel elephant.”
“And McCitrick?”
They both looked over towards McCitrick, who was deep in discussion with the other colonels. “McCitrick’s a bit of a mystery, even to me. He doesn’t talk about his past much but he’s ex-SBS. Honest and loyal to the core. One thing that I do know though, is don’t cross him. He’s had the ear of every Home Secretary since 1998, and should anyone betray DS5 it’s McCitrick who pulls the trigger. No courts, no hearings, no bullshit. Honour and loyalty are everything in this unit. It’s all we have to rely on, being completely outside the framework of the real world.”
For the first time since being given the brief by McCitrick, Munroe found himself in awe of everything he was hearing and seeing as it began to sink in. He knew there were acknowledged operations and units working outside the government. Christ, he’d worked for many of them, but this was different. A small group with thousands of tonnes of weaponry and combat men and woman at their fingertips, and the resources of nations to use as they saw fit. Quite a responsibility and, as he saw it, the ultimate honour – to serve not just one’s country but the world. And all this to kill Nazis. One of the most dangerous groups to ever have existed.
“So how about you, Captain Sloan. What’s your story?” Munroe asked, curious as to how his new teammate had made it into the fold.
“I could ask you the same thing. Remus over there wasn’t very impressed, although he can be like that with everyone from time to time. How did you get your honourable discharge?”
Munroe just stared at her, and after a few moments of uncomfortable silence he made a clicking sound from the side of his mouth. “Maybe when we get to know each other better.”
Sloan didn’t look offended; she just shrugged her shoulders. “Same for me then. A bit of mystery never hurt anyone.”
They both smiled respectfully at one another as on the wall opposite the three separate flat-screen monitors lit up and Munroe found himself staring at the people known as ‘the three kings’. On the left sat the French Minister for Armed Forces, in the middle the US Secretary of Defence, and on the right was the UK Home Secretary, Jacob Ryan.
With McCitrick, Remus and Sinclair standing at the front of the crowd they turned to face the screens and waited as the US Secretary spoke first.
“Thank you for gathering at such short notice, and especially Section Head McCitrick for organising it. You are all aware of the atrocities that have occurred in London earlier today, and as such I would now like to turn this meeting over to Secretary Ryan, who will speak on behalf of us all. I would also like to impress upon you that this brazen attack on British soil by Daedalus will not go unpunished, and as always is considered not just a national attack but an attack on the world as a whole.”
“Thank you, Mr Secretary.” Ryan shifted in his chair before resting both his elbows on the table in front of him, staring sombrely at them all. “When our three countries formed this charter over seventy years ago, it was in the hope of maintaining world peace after the horrors of World War Two. Our leaders made a solemn promise, not just to each to other but to the world, that the Nazi war machine would never again be allowed to roll. Our predecessors held true to that promise, and although the inhumane and sick ideals of Nazism have endured, it is us that has kept it at bay. Our remit of secrecy has made it a thankless job and, so far, never-ending, as the groundwork laid down by the Nazi hierarchy has morphed and evolved into the organisational cult we know as Daedalus. As they have evolved, so has DS5, and we have become a watchtower that strikes down this ideological scourge when it rears its ugly head. But as of today, that all changes. This attack on the very fabric of the Western political system, we believe, represents a sea change in their thinking, and what has remained for so long a secret cold war, a chess game of ideologies, has now become hot. They have changed the rules of the game, and we must respond in kind. From this moment going forward we will no longer defend the status quo, but take the fight to them. For far too long we have maintained a type of balance, only striking when necessary, but now we will dig them out and finally end what should have been concluded back in 1945. Your section heads will brief you on the various operations. But know that you have at this moment any resource, any department, any army, including NATO, to aid you. Revisit every lead we’ve ever had, any escapes we allowed to slip by, and any and all suspects, regardless of how unsure we are of their involvement. If they are a suspect, then bring them in for questioning. This game stops now. If not, then what will be next… the French Parliament, the White House? We know you will carry out your duties to the best of your abilities – and know that once our task is concluded, we can disband the charter that has kept the world safe for so many decades.”
Ryan leant closer to the camera, the cut on his cheek from the bomb blast tied with fresh stiches. “This ends now, under our watch… and none too soon. Godspeed, ladies and gentlemen. The weight of history is on your shoulders. We know you will make the world proud.”
With a nod from the other secretaries the screens went black, and as the group descended into the mumbling of conversation the three section heads huddled among themselves for a few minutes before moving to join their respective groups.
“Both of you, walk with me,” McCitrick ordered, and he headed out of the briefing room with Munroe and Sloan on his tail. It wasn’t until they reached the top deck that McCitrick began to speak again. He now pulled out his smartphone and held it out in front of him. “I received this just before you arrived. One of my contacts in Brazil found it on the victim of a massacre there.”
McCitrick tapped the screen; it brought up a picture of a burnt hand, charred by flames, but it was the tattoo on the inside arm that aroused the curiosity of both Munroe and Sloan. The tattoo was a triangle with a maze lying within it, and Munroe recognised it immediately.
“Daedalus, it’s their symbol. I saw it on Tobias Kessler’s arm, but he said they don’t mark themselves anymore.”
“Well someone has, and considering it was found on the arm of a woman along with sixty-seven others who had been burnt alive in a commune church, I think it pertinent to take a look. Daedalus are covering their tracks, and I want you to find out why.”
Munroe was about to ask a question but McCitrick raised a finger. “I don’t know any more than that, but my man on the ground can give you all the information he has. And if you do come across any of Daedalus’s people I want them brought in for questioning. Not on sight, do you understand? A lot of people died in the attack on Parliament and it’s got the other countries worried. Who’s next? If Daedalus are moving into their endgame then this could be the moment we’ve been anticipating for over seventy years.”
Munroe needed no persuading. “We’ll leave now.”
McCitrick nodded and flicked his finger towards the waiting Merlin Mk 2 helicopter already spinning up its rotors. “That’ll take you to back to Brest airport where you’ll connect with a waiting C-130 Hercules with a care package on it, then on to Brazil. You’ll refuel in mid-air.” McCitrick passed over a set of plastic cards with both their names on. “You’ve got CIA, FBI and UN attaché identification, use them as and if needed.”
Munroe and Sloan dropped the cards into their pockets and with barely a nod began heading towards the waiting chopper. Blown about by the raging downforce from the Merlin’s rotors, Munroe boarded along with Sloan, and he found himself racking his mind for an answer to the biggest question still on his mind. What the hell did a Nazi serial killer have to do with him or his family?
“Looks like we’re on our own. That’s fine by me,” Munroe yelled above the noise as the sliding side door was pulled closed and the helicopter began lifting into the air.
“Then you’re in the right place, Ethan. They don’t call us the Disavowed for nothing.”