Tom Lyth sat in the private bathroom of Doctor Martin Schmidt, his fingers interlocked and his feet tapping impatiently on the floor, waiting for his agent to arrive.
The good doctor had welcomed him with a handshake and the two men had discussed how the ‘appointment’ would play out. It was agreed that Lyth would be concealed in the doctor’s shower/toilet room that was attached to his private office and would only come out when it was established that the bodyguards were safely settled in the luxurious waiting room and that the two men would not be disturbed. Because they would have a very short window to pass across a lot of information, Lyth went over in his head the protocols of agent management. His priority was to deal with any real-time intelligence that needed to be disclosed first and then after that, it was the instructions to Sailfish about how they were going to extract him.
From the outer office he heard voices, first a woman’s, the clinic’s receptionist, then the voices of two men greeting each other, closely followed by footsteps across the tiled floor. Lyth stood and inspected himself in the mirror; short dark hair, dark turtleneck sweater and winter overcoat. He was ready. There was a gentle knock on the bathroom door and he turned to open it. The first thing he saw was the tall, greying figure of Doctor Schmidt and behind him, standing in the centre of the room, was his agent, Sailfish, Pavel Zeman.
Both men smiled at each other and then Pavel, clearly consumed by emotion, took two giant strides forward and wrapped his arms around his controller. Lyth returned the embrace and he could tell, even imperceptibly, that his agent was trembling. Was it fear, happiness or just plain relief?
“You won’t be disturbed,” said Doctor Schmidt, picking a book from a shelf and heading towards the privacy and solitude of his bathroom. “The door is locked and the bodyguards are down the corridor in the waiting room. You will be able to converse freely. Let me know when you have finished and I will escort Herr Zeman out to keep up the charade.”
Lyth broke the embrace and nodded. When the doctor had left them, the two men – the spy and his controller – stood back and looked at each other. The relief was clear on both of their faces.
“How long do we have?” asked Pavel, wiping a tear from his eye and getting himself back under control.
Lyth shrugged, indicating that they should sit at the desk. “Not long enough, thirty to forty-five minutes maximum. You are well, Pavel? Is there anything that I should know about today’s events so far?”
Pavel shook his head, paused and then caught himself. “Sabina, I saw her at the hotel. She was the recognition code? Is she safe?”
Lyth nodded. “We thought a familiar face would make it easier for you. She did well and she will be on her way home to Berlin tonight.”
Pavel took a breath and composed himself. At least she would be safe and away from any risk. “That is good,” he said.
“Pavel, time is short, in fact it’s crawling all over us. We can do a proper de-briefing at the safe house over the next few days, but can you give me a brief update about the Pandora Project?” said Lyth.
Pavel’s mind whirled, wondering where to start. Eventually, he had everything in order in his mind; start wide and then focus in narrow. “There have been many changes over the past few months.”
“What kind of changes?”
“I no longer believe that this project is destined for Russia or that it is purely about hypersonic technology?”
“Why?”
“There have been developments. The hypersonic tech was only a part of it. Other elements have been integrated into it, namely weapons-based technology. The parameters of Pandora have been expanded. Trillium seems to want something different now. Now, Pandora is effectively a next generation assassination drone,” said Pavel.
That caused Lyth’s eyes to widen. It was a new complication, one that would have to be investigated further. “And the Russians?” he said.
Pavel lowered his voice until it was almost a whisper. “We used to have Russian military advisors come to visit us, but over the months they stopped coming. They seemed to stop visiting the island around the same time that Trillium began trying to fit advanced weapons tech into the vehicle. That is too much of a coincidence. If the specifications of Pandora had changed and altered to Russian requirements, we would have had more, not less Russian oversight, especially at this stage of development.”
“So what does that tell you?”
Pavel thought for a moment, wanting to get the words correct. “I think the Russians have been cut out of the project completely; whether it was financial or political, I don’t know. I think Pandora is being produced to go to the open market, the highest bidder. It certainly fits with Trillium’s past history of illegal tech proliferation.”
Lyth mulled it over. The Prism was forever in a constant, delicate balance, either directing or frustrating the future technology arms race. It was similar to being a trader on Wall Street, constantly monitoring the power swing that fluctuates and changes on a day-by-day basis. With the Russians out of the loop for Pandora, the tech could be passed anywhere… the Americans, the Chinese, the North Koreans… perhaps even to a new power player. But the ramifications for that were for another day; right now, there were more pressing matters.
Pavel continued: “I stuck to the plan. I altered the data to negate the advancement of the hypersonic engine. With the figures that are stored in the Trillium system, Pandora will never work. In fact, it’s well on its way to becoming a failed project.”
“Where are the accurate figures?” asked Lyth, already knowing the answer. He just wanted it confirming.
Pavel smiled. “They are stored in my head. Every piece of data, all the correct calculations, the layout of every schematic, I have it all saved up here. I have studied it for months, it was not easy, but I did it.”
“What about our sabotage plan? Without that in place, the technology is still out on the open market and we have no control of it.”
“Before I left, I downloaded the virus from the USB stick that you gave me. Even now, it is lying dormant inside Trillium’s servers. All it will take will be an email to one of the Senior Directors of Pandora on the island to trigger it and the virus will run rampant, spreading through every database that Trillium holds which is connected to Pandora – both on the island and at headquarters in Oslo. It will wipe all the information clean, or infect it so badly that it won’t be salvageable. After that, the only place it will exist will be…” said Pavel, tapping the side of his head.
“And are you under suspicion?”
Pavel shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. There was the usual interrogation by the security chief on the island, but I got the impression that it was routine.”
Lyth nodded, satisfied. There would be more time later when Sailfish was interviewed by the Seer’s technical experts to delve into the details. But for now, his priority was to get his agent out of harm’s way. “Okay, let’s talk about what’s going to happen today. Are you ready for that?”
Pavel stared at him. His face was grave and there was a pleading look in his eyes that said get me out of this hell once and for all.
“My friend, I have never been more ready for anything in my entire life.”
The Fisherman spoke and Pavel listened.
The agent-runner spoke in soft but clipped tones as if he was explaining the inner workings of a Swiss watch. “You leave here with your bodyguards and go back to the hotel. You look distraught, as if you have received bad news from your consultation with the doctor. Once you arrive at the hotel, you tell your Protection Officer that you would like to have a drink at the bar. In fact insist on it. This gives my people time to get into position. Don’t look for them because you won’t see them.”
“I understand.”
“Take your time with your drink, somewhere between five and ten minutes. We are hoping that one of the bodyguards will peel off from you and go and prepare your hotel suite, leaving just you and your Protection Officer in the bar,” said Lyth.
Pavel nodded. He thought that was the most likely scenario, especially in the relative safety of the hotel. Gergo stuck to him like glue, but the other bodyguard, Ervin, seemed to be responsible for securing the rooms and would leave them from time to time.
“Once you’ve finished your drink, you say that you have to visit the toilet. You go out of the bar and towards the toilets across from the reception desk. The bodyguard will go in first to make sure that there are no threats waiting for you.”
“Will there be?”
Lyth smiled. “There will be for him, not for you. A man will pass you the moment the bodyguard goes in to inspect the toilets. He’ll stick an ‘out of order’ sign on the door and go in. Whatever happens, do not go in there until the man tells you it is safe to do so. Understand?”
Pavel understood completely; there would be violence happening and that was not his arena. “Why can’t you get me out of here now?”
Lyth shook his head. “Think about it. That would compromise Doctor Schmidt if it happened here; we need to at least give him a plausible cover. The hotel is the natural place for it to happen.”
“Okay, okay…”
“Once you are in the restroom, you’ll be given a basic disguise to put on, coat, hat, that kind of thing. Time will be of the essence so you must hurry. After that, the man will give you instructions and you must follow them to the letter. They will lead you to me and I’ll lead you away from the hotel,” said Lyth, walking through the plan in his mind as he was describing it.
Pavel took a breath to calm his nerves. “So this is it, the big day.”
Lyth nodded and looked down at his watch. He stood and gently knocked on the door for Doctor Schimdt. “It is time.”
Pavel stood; he could feel his legs shaking. Adrenaline. “The next time you see me, the hard part will be done?”
“Absolutely,” said Lyth, sounding encouraging. But the Fisherman part of him, the hard-bitten spy part of him, knew that Pavel’s journey was only just beginning.
The journey back to the hotel was as much of a blur as the trip out. At least his melancholy could be explained away by bad news about his imaginary condition. Thankfully, the hulking figure of Gergo in the rear of the car with him left him to his own thoughts.
It had started to rain as they pulled up in front of the Hotel Grand Vienna, a symptom of the day’s overcast and brooding nature. The bodyguards escorted him from the car, up the steps and through the main doors of the hotel swiftly and professionally, eager to have their Principal back in the safety and controlled environment of his hotel suite.
The foyer was half empty; a few people at reception checking out, a few late afternoon stragglers, business types, having meetings over coffee in the lounge area, several guests looking over the local entertainments notice board. None of it was unusual or out of the ordinary.
It was perfect and a case of now or never.
“I would like a drink,” said Pavel, already heading towards the bar, not giving the bodyguards a chance to react.
“Herr Professor, I think we should go back to the room,” countered Gergo, trying to catch up with the long stride of his Principal.
“I have just received some rather alarming news, Gergo, the details of which I won’t trouble you with. Suffice to say, I need a drink now more than ever and I’m going to have one in that bar, right here and right now!” said Pavel sternly. He kept his eyes locked in tandem with his bodyguard’s, not flinching and not backing down. He had to win this.
Finally, after what seemed an age, Gergo motioned for Ervin to secure the hotel suite. A nod and the other bodyguard went on his way to the elevators.
“Okay, thank you, Gergo,” said Pavel. “I will have one very large drink, gather my thoughts and then we can return to my suite until tomorrow.”
“I understand completely, Herr Professor,” said Gergo, escorting him into the half empty bar area until they found a seat, a corner booth. Pavel ordered vodka from the waitress; Gergo ordered a mineral water and sat at the next table along, giving his Principal space and a little privacy.
Pavel sipped at the clear liquid. It was good, probably the best vodka he had ever tasted. It calmed him, fortified him and readied him for what was to come next. He casually scanned the area, looking for likely candidates for the contact who would give him further instructions, but really he had no better idea if anyone was watching him than he’d had the previous day. He relaxed; better just to trust the process, he thought. Really, what choice did he have anyway?
He allowed himself another long sip of vodka and a quick glance at his watch. Another few minutes and then he would make his move. He had seen no one go in or out of the restroom area from his vantage point at the bar and he guessed that whatever was about to happen would work best if there were no witnesses.
Pavel downed the vodka in a single gulp and stood. The bodyguard was instantly up and ready and the two men made their way out of the bar, across the foyer, past reception and towards the elevators. There was a small queue of people waiting for the next elevator to hit the ground floor. Perfect! Pavel stopped mid-stride and turned. “I need to use the restrooms, I won’t be long.”
Gergo frowned and looked over, past reception, to the small alcove that led to the toilets. A nod from Gergo and then they headed down the small corridor that led to the rest rooms. A quick scan of the surrounding area by the bodyguard; everything appeared normal. Gergo turned to his Principal. “Wait here for one moment and let me check to make sure it is safe.”
The bodyguard disappeared through the restroom door, his neck craning and his head already starting to move from side to side looking for threats as he entered and the door closed behind him.
Left alone in the isolated corridor and staring at a bathroom door, Pavel began to panic. Had he not left it long enough to have his drink? Had the plan gone wrong? Was there a different restroom and for some unexplained reason his contact had gone to that one instead of this one? What should he do next?
Then, as if on cue, a man in a business suit, medium height and build, came down the corridor and walked towards him. In his left hand he carried a small day sack and with his right hand the man lifted one finger to his lips in a ‘shhh’ motion. Pavel noted that he had his watch strap wrapped around the back of his hand so that the face of the watch was lying in the centre of his palm. The man walked past him, dropping the day sack at Pavel’s feet. The man’s body language said that he was focused and he only had one destination. As he reached the door, the man took out a magnetic-backed sign from his pocket and slapped it on the metal sign of the door at about head height. It said: Verwende nicht – Do Not Use.
The last thing that Pavel saw was the back of the man’s suit jacket as he stepped through the restroom door and beyond that was the confused face, but even now turning to a scowl, of Gergo, the bodyguard. Then the door softly closed, blocking Pavel out, leaving only the echo of animalistic grunts behind as a fight began.
Tanner had seen the two men leave the bar from his position outside in the SCALPEL surveillance car.
Earlier that day, he had entered the hotel and attached a covert camera no bigger that a small coin to a discreet part of the wall opposite the bar area. It was virtually impossible to see, but from his smartphone he could view remotely who went into the bar and who came out.
When he had seen Sailfish and the bodyguard enter the bar, he knew he was on ten minutes’ standby. He went over everything in his mind, double-checked the kit he was taking with him – the day sack that contained the spare clothes, the magnetic door sign and, last of all, his watch. The watch was his secret weapon.
Although Tanner looked physically unremarkable (people would have mistaken him for an accountant or office worker), he was in fact a former MI6 Increment operator and skilled exponent of modern combatives; a mixture of boxing, ju-jitsu and street fighting. The combative skills had saved his life on several assignments for both MI6 and the Prism.
Sailfish was on the move to the restroom and that was Tanner’s cue to go mobile. Tanner slung the day sack over his shoulder as he walked and began to undo the strap of the watch from around his wrist. He then moved the watch onto his right hand so that the watch face sat in the centre of his palm and the strap was tightened across the back of his hand.
Designed as a non-lethal device, the stun gun packed an impressive 8,000 volts into a small space and was far in advance of anything commercially available for its size. It was known as the ‘Sledgehammer’. The Sledgehammer, like the covert camera, was just a small part of the Prism’s tech and was a valuable part of SCALPEL’s operational armoury. It could be disguised in a variety of receptacles, like a watch for example.
When he watched the two men leave the bar and begin to head towards the restrooms, Tanner estimated that he had under a minute to get himself into position. He reckoned he could be in the restroom – out of the car, across the road, through the hotel foyer and to the toilet doors – in less than thirty seconds.
Tanner got out of the car and moved, heading towards the hotel entrance… eight seconds… through the hotel doors… twelve… past reception… a twist of the dial and the device was activated; Tanner felt the gentle hum of the electrical current as the Sledgehammer came to life.
His eyes flicked left and right quickly as he walked across the hotel foyer, looking like a man in need of an appointment with the lavatory, his cover intact, and no suspicion aroused. His eyes were dead set on Sailfish’s back… the man turned, aware of his presence… twenty-five seconds… he raised a finger to his lips to keep Sailfish quiet, the man’s eyes were like saucers… twenty eight seconds… the day sack dropped at Sailfish’s feet… twenty-nine seconds… the slap as the magnetic sign connected with the door… thirty seconds… and then Tanner was powering through the door, everything else pushed from his mind except what was in front of him and the damage that he had to inflict.
Over the past day, he had had numerous opportunities to observe the stocky, powerful bodyguard. The man looked alert and immensely strong. Taking him out would be difficult, especially in a one-on-one fight. But taking him out quickly and silently… that was a definite challenge.
“You think you can handle it?” the Fisherman had him asked at the Ops briefing at the safe house.
Tanner had thought about it. “If I’m quick enough, surprise him enough and have a little help… yes, I think I can.”
“What do you have in mind?” asked the Fisherman
Tanner had smiled. “The Sledgehammer,” he said
To his credit, the bodyguard did what he was trained to do, thought Tanner. He attacked!
Gergo used his considerable bulk and muscle to charge at Tanner to try to knock him back against the door and crush him. But what Tanner lacked in power, he more than made up for with speed, and easily sidestepped, moving off-line and allowing the bodyguard to go face first into the door.
Tanner delivered a powerful knee strike to the other man’s thigh, causing him to drop, and following it up with an open palm strike to the back of the head with the Sledgehammer stun gun. Tanner felt the buzz effect from the small device in his hand, could feel the energy surging, and then the impact as the strike connected. The effect on the bodyguard was instantaneous. Gergo slid down the door, his body going into spasm. There was no way that he was coming back from that. Tanner guessed that the bodyguard would be incapacitated for the next fifteen minutes; plenty of time to restrain him, but he would have to move fast.
Tanner switched off the stun device and dragged the bodyguard into a sitting position on the toilet in one of the cubicles. A moment later, the bodyguard had his feet and hands tied with plasticuffs, a ball gag placed in his mouth, a hood over his head and the door closed behind him.
He went back out of the restroom and motioned for Sailfish to come in. “Get changed as quickly as you can. Don’t worry about him, I dealt with it,” said Tanner.
While Sailfish quickly swapped his coat and jacket for a different winter jacket, baseball cap and scarf, Tanner pulled out his smartphone and sent a text to Jax:
Target one down. Sailfish secure and moving. Good luck.
When he had finished, he turned to Sailfish. The tweedy professor now looked like an American tourist… the thought made him smile.
“Okay, you listening? You go out of here and straight to the elevators. You take the elevator to the basement, you don’t look directly at anyone but you don’t look away, either. You play it cool, like you are meant to be there. You will be met by the Fisherman. You got it all?”
A nod from Sailfish.
“Then good, off you go and good luck.”
Tanner watched as Sailfish walked confidently out in his new disguise. He checked his watch. The whole thing had taken less than five minutes. “You still got it, Tanner old boy,” he said to himself. “You still got it.”
Now it was up to Jax to take care of target number two.
The girl had to be a hooker, thought Ervin, as he watched her on his phone.
She had triggered the infra-red silent alarm that they had placed by the Principal’s suite and which sent an alert to the live feed on his phone. The girl was standing outside the Principal’s suite, knocking on the door and flicking through her phone, looking bored. Ervin thought that she was a good-looking girl, a high class escort definitely. Maybe the Professor was starting to feel a bit better…
She was dressed in a short blue mini dress and heels, both of which were discreetly covered by a long, ankle-length fur coat. Ervin thought this girl could have been a catwalk model instead of selling herself to these rich fucks. He grunted, turned off the TV and went out into the hotel corridor to investigate. She turned as soon as she became aware of the door opposite opening.
“Igen?” asked Ervin, confused and for some reason unable to drag his eyes away from her legs. They were good legs, toned, he could imagine them wrapped around his ears.
The hooker came back at him with a flurry of German, most of which he barely understood.
“Errr… English?” he tried.
The girl frowned at him and then pouted, looking him up and down, inspecting him like the hired help that he was. “Of course I speak English. Who are you, please?”
“Can I help you, Fraulein?” asked Ervin, his body still framed in the safety of the ops room doorway that was their suite.
“I am here for…” she mumbled, checking her phone. “Yes, I am here for Johann. I am his afternoon friend. I am late, my driver let me down.”
He was right, she was a hooker.
“There is no Johann here,” he said. “You will have to leave this area or I will call hotel security.”
She snorted derisively, meeting his gaze and challenging him. “I’m going nowhere.”
Ervin decided he had had enough of this hooker and started to close the distance, leaving the safety of the doorway and moving across the corridor. If he had to, he’d throw her down the stairs and…
She had sprayed him in the face. It was odourless, but it had hit him full-force in the face, wet like mist. The strangest thing was that it had seemed to come from her cell phone. She had raised it quickly, like a weapon and… sprayed him. It was the strangest thing… because now he couldn’t feel his legs, his balance was going and his head was swimming and…
The bodyguard crashed to the floor with a thump, his legs splayed and his head turned to the side.
Dumb fuck, thought Jax. staring down at him.
The chemical spray had an immediate effect when ingested at close range, a gift from the technical team at the Prism, and would leave the bodyguard out cold for the next hour or so… but he would wake up with one hell of a headache! They were so predictable, these muscle-bound bodyguards. Show them a fit piece of ass and they were putty.
She grabbed his ankles and dragged him into the hotel suite, leaving him in a heap in the middle of the room before closing the door behind her. He wasn’t too heavy and had been quite easy to manage, at least for someone like Jax who did fitness training every day.
She pulled out her real smartphone from her shoulder bag and messaged: Target Two Down. Endex.
As she walked towards the stairwell, she triggered the fire alarm, sending every floor in the hotel into an uproar. With minutes, an evacuation would begin, fire engines would arrive, people would be screaming and losing their shit… it was perfect, the perfect time to carry out an Exfil.
Jax smiled to herself as she skipped down the staircase.
She loved her job.