Chapter 6

Commander Edgar Bennett looked at Lieutenant Archie Malcolm with a pained expression. “You’re late,” he said.

Archie nodded and gazed directly at the Commander, waiting for the important work that was to be thrust at him, having been pulled away from Emma. No doubt the birthday party group were well on their way down the River Wye, relishing the activity and drinking in the scenery.

The word “late” took Archie straight back to his school days in the Navy CCF. This Combined Cadet Force gave him a free insight into the world of the armed forces. At tax payer’s expense, Archie undertook sailing courses in the Firth of Forth, mastering helming the bosun dinghies under the Edinburgh road and rail bridges. Near Poole Harbour in Dorset he went on to understand air acquaintance. He had liked the roar of the Sea King helicopters and, from Liverpool, he was able to go to sea in a naval Frigate. Archie had become adept at identifying the ways and laws of the sea and, in his spare time, he had studied and studied to understand more.

In his final year at school, Archie was able to meet with the Navy Schools Liaison Officer. This meeting took place on the third floor of one of the many old Victorian red brick buildings that were at the school.

Archie had been playing football during the lunchtime break and all his concentration had been on driving his team forward to ensure that they won the friendly match. Whilst it might have been called a friendly, Archie was in no mood to lose easily. He was prepared to keep running, keep tackling and generally be in the way of the opposition until his side won. Meanwhile, the Liaison Officer in his third floor room within the Victorian red brick building noticed that Archie had lost track of time.

Even though Archie entered the interview room, by his account, bang on the dot of when he should have been there, the Navy Officer let Archie know that punctuality was a core ingredient of the armed forces. He was told that he would not last long if he was late again. It was a lesson that he had tried to remember.

The Commander continued. “Archie, I want you to spearhead the naval taskforce in our fight against illegal imports, especially the growing cocaine trade through our waters and onwards to a sophisticated distribution network. It is currently a blight on our borders and I want you to take full control to curb this activity.”

At last, this was exactly what Archie wanted, some measure of responsibility. An active assignment where he could take the lead and not just be another dogsbody, following in the footsteps of whichever boss was chosen for the task at hand. He hid his surprise.

“You do realise the current minimal resources that we have at our disposal, sir?” Malcolm clipped out.

“For the next six months Archie,” the Commander sighed, “You will receive whatever reasonable and justifiable support you deem necessary.”