As I lay fast asleep in my delightfully comfortable bed, a series of co-ordinated events sent the whole of the Police, Security Services and all parts of the Military into overdrive.

It all started with a successful attack on the head of MI5. His car was ambushed and he was assassinated in broad daylight very close to Tower Bridge. As his schedule was a carefully guarded secret, everyone went on Red Plus Alert. Red Plus means imminent threat of attack.

In other words, the UK went into total lockdown.

The broadcast of the enhanced level of security came just in time to thwart an attack on Dorney Wood. This is the country residence of several top-ranking Government Ministers that is located in Buckinghamshire.

The Foreign Secretary was hosting a conference there at the time. Those attending included several other Foreign Ministers from the close Allies of the UK plus their respective heads of Security. This conference was not one that gets announced to the media due to the sensitivity of the issues being discussed until the event was over. The journalists that had been invited for the press conference had just arrived when the alarm was raised. They too were underground when the attack came.

As a result of the warning, all the attendees were in the underground bunkers when six drones dropped grenades on the part of the garden where they were due to hold a photo call at that very moment. No one was injured apart from a few decapitated statues and a load of plants.
The third and final attack took place right in the heart of London. At least one shoulder launched missile was fired at the iconic MI6 building on the South Bank of the Thames at Vauxhall Cross. Whatever was fired exploded without causing any damage or injury. The missiles had been fired from a Jet-Ski that was on the river itself.

After letting off the missile, the Jet-Ski sped off in the direction of Hammersmith but the rider was caught on Chelsea reach by a river police launch that had been investigating the theft of that exact same Jet-Ski from a houseboat that was moored close by earlier in the day.

Being fast asleep, I knew nothing of any of these events. It was late afternoon when I woke up. After a visit to the toilet, I switched on the TV and saw that London and the Home counties were in total lockdown. The Media were concentrating on the assassination of the head of MI5 with fewer reports about the attack on the MI6 building.

The heightened level of security meant that no flights were allowed in or out of UK Airspace apart from overflies. All Ferries and Eurostar services were cancelled and there were armed troops on the streets of the Capital and in most major cities across the country.

Some sections of the media were having a field day with people complaining about missing a day or so of their holiday or business trip.

To my still sleepy brain, it looked like we’d had our own version of the 11th September attacks.

I sat on the edge of the bed and shook my head in disbelief that this was happening all around me and I had slept right through it.

Gradually, some of my training kicked in and I began to start thinking logically.

The only conclusion I could come too and despite reports that pretty well every terrorist group that I’d heard of and a few more besides was claiming responsibility for the attacks on the ‘Imperialist Zionist Pig Dogs’, ‘Capitalist Pigs’ and many other descriptions that there was one man behind the whole thing and that was none other than Daniel Esteban. The fact that these attacks had happened so soon after the one on us was no coincidence. It had to be him that was behind them.

He had a lot of scores to settle with the UK Security Services and this had all the hallmarks of one of his grand plans. Memories of his failed attempt to take over the Government of Ecuador sprang to mind. Here, he’d made several grand gestures and had assassinated the head of the Army but failed in an attack on the Presidential Residency.

I was sure that he’d kicked off the sequence of events the previous evening with the attack on my home. It seemed to me that the RPG he fired the previous evening was first move of his grand plan to take down or at least de-stabilise the UK Government. It also was the reason why he’d come to the UK. He wanted to personally supervise the events on the ground.

Then I started to work on the why. Why had he done it?

That turned out to be fairly easy. My department along with MI5, MI6, the FBI and a host of other countries security services such as the CIA, FBI, Mossad and even the FSB, had hit his empire pretty hard and repeatedly over the years. The haul of information we had obtained from the traitor in our midst, Edward Farthing had proved invaluable to us. That event was the first time we gotten anywhere even remotely close to the centre of his organisation. But I could not help wonder why he’d waited so long. It couldn’t have been because Jemma and I were out of the picture? Or could it?

Jemma and I were at the centre of that and with the help of ‘6’ and ‘5’ we’d basically shutdown a large part of his operation in this part of Europe. He wanted back in as he had a lot of ‘product’ to shift and therefore, to kill the head of MI5 would have been a huge coup for him. His reputation would be greatly enhanced by that action.

That would have given him the opportunity to open up again here big time. Any competition he might have had would more than likely take the hint and leave the market clear for him to dominate. I dismissed the attack on MI6 as being purely symbolic. The real targets were those hit in the first two attacks or three if you count the one on my home the night before.

Suddenly, a heavy weight fell on my shoulders. The attack on Jemma and myself had started the whole sequence of events. We should have never agreed to return to London. Life in Acharacle, with midges and all, never seemed so good as it did now. I wished that we were there now but we weren’t and we had a job to do.

There was nothing for it, I had to go downstairs and after checking on Jemma, I had to find out if I could help.

---

Jemma it turned out was still fast asleep so I didn’t press things with the ‘Matron’. She did let me see her as long as it was just to look. No touchee was the order of the day. I obeyed as I thought that it was probably better that she didn’t know about what was unfolding in the world at large.

Once I was satisfied that she was being well looked after, I went in search of ‘Sam’.

As usual, the door to his office was open. I hovered for a few seconds. Then he said,

“Well my girl, are you going to come in or not?”

Slightly red in the face, I went inside.

“Please, close the door,” he commanded.

I did that and sat down.

“I take it that you have seen the news?”

“Yes Sam, I have. It looks pretty bad.”

He grunted.
“We got off lightly although the media don’t know that.”

He went onto explain about the drone attack on Dorney Wood and update me about the one on MI6.

“It could have been so much worse. We have to thank the former head of ‘5’ for that stroke of luck. He’d been in front of the press along with, the Home Secretary and the Met Police Commissioner explaining about the demise of you and your partner. The Press Conference was wrapped up quite a bit earlier than it had been planned to. If he’d been ten or more minutes later, then both attacks would have happened pretty well at the same time or his after the one on Dorney Wood. The head of ‘5’ had been at the conference but had left to deal with the events at your home. The Americans are livid by the way. The heads of both the FBI and NSA were in attendance. No one was supposed to know about the event until it was over but somehow it leaked and they are blaming us naturally. Dorney Wood is in Lockdown until 18:00. Their stance is that we can’t be trusted. Well fuck them I say. We will be ferrying the Americans and Canadians to RAF Lakenheath[1] by Helicopter later. They can make their own way back across the Atlantic.”

Then he took a deep breath.

“The PM has naturally cut short her trip to Japan. She flew out of Narita just over two hours ago. She is going to visit the POTUS on the way back but my guess is that she’ll get nowhere with him given his recent tweets that blame every problem in the world on anyone but the USA. So far, he’s been quiet on the events here thank God. I can only hope that his chief of staff has taken his phone away until he can be briefed by the people who were at Dorney Wood when they get back home.”

“Then we have to get Esteban and give them his head on a platter?”

“Easier said than done my Girl, easier said than done…”

I knew that but…

“Sir, I think I have an inkling of a plan. Nothing concrete as yet but with a few hours of work, I think I could come up with something workable.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am. If it isn’t workable then I’ll say so. Besides if what I have in mind is to work we may need the services of a few select people from ‘5’ and ‘6’ so the plan will need their approval as well. Who knows Esteban better than Jemma and me eh? We might have been out of the game so to speak for quite a while but I’m sure that perusing the thick file you have on him would bring me up to speed pretty quickly.”

Then I took a deep breath.

“We will probably need the approval of No 10.”

This startled my boss.

“You aren’t going to put the PM in danger, are you?”

I managed a smile.

“No Sir, but we need a bit of a diversion and who better to create one that is believable other than the PM?”

“Anything like this may well need the approval of the Privy Council as well. We can’t have the opposition parties trying to get brownie points at the PM’s expense.”

“I’d forgotten about them.”

“No matter. It will be my job to brief the Politicians and ‘5’ and ‘6’ at a COBRA[2] meeting. If and it is a big if, we get the go-ahead then.”

He looked up at the clock on the wall of his office.

“On that point, I’m going to have to go to Downing Street. The PM has convened one in less than an hour. The Home Secretary will chair it but the PM will join in from the RAF plane that she’s using to fly to Washington.”

After handing me the file with the latest information on Esteban, he disappeared off to No 10. I took that as tacit approval to not only get up to speed but to start thinking about how to take down Daniel Esteban once and for all.

---

I’d been working for a few hours when I sensed that I was being watched. I looked up and saw Jemma.

“Why didn’t you wake me when you found out that shit had hit the fan?”

“Matron said No! She was right. You needed the rest.”

Jemma smiled.
“What are you doing?”

“Working on a cunning plan to trap Daniel Esteban.”

“Oh Goody. What can I do?”

“Get us something to eat? And none of that rabbit food. You have not eaten in over a day remember.”

“Spoilsport!” said Jemma as she stuck her tongue out at me.

I laughed. We knew each other so well. Our banter could offend some others at times but it was all part of us being a team. We trusted each other implicitly which isn’t always the case with other pairs of agents.

Once we’d eaten and had something to drink, I explained my ideas to Jemma. Once she’d finished laughing and saw my straight face she calmed down.

“You can’t be serious?”

“I am and that’s why it will work. Those missing millions should get the interest Esteban. After all, he thinks they are his, doesn’t he?”

Jemma looked me right in the eye. She had a habit of doing this when she was unsure of my sincerity over something.

“Don’t go rogue on me, will you?” she said after a few seconds.

“Me? Go rogue? Not without you at my side.”

We both had a good laugh. Then we got on with planning the operation.

---

Despite our best efforts, it was almost a whole day before we had it nailed down as best as we could. There were a few loose ends but we were sure that the experts from ‘5’ and ‘6’ would be able to help in tying them up once we had the go ahead from the powers that be.

Our next step was to present the plan to our boss, ‘Sam’.

He listened to what we had to say in his typical noncommittal style. This was what made him such a great boss. He would always let us have our say before he even passed a single word in comment.

When we’d finished he closed his eyes and began to think. This was also his style and we were not unduly worried.

After nearly a minute he opened his eyes and a small smile spread over his face.

“I knew you’d come up with something spectacular but this really takes the biscuit. And, it does not put the PM at risk. Well done.”

His face remained pretty expressionless.

“But… It might just work. We will need something special if we are going to stop Mr Esteban and this could well be it.”

I looked a Jemma who smiled back at me.

“You two are my best agents it will be a shame to see you go but you are far too much of a target to be kept on the active list even with him out of the way.”

“Sam,” I said as I gripped Jemma’s hand.

“We are only too aware of that. Well, aren’t we officially deceased now?”

Sam nodded his head.

“But… this plan?”

“Yes, we know. It needs for us to come back from the dead albeit temporarily at least as far as he is concerned.”

“That’s the bit I am unhappy with.”

“Sam…” said Jemma in her best ‘I will get you to do this pretty please sort of voice’.

He smiled back.

“Don’t give me that sweet talk voice of yours. I know it of old.”

“Sam… If I may?”

He just sighed.

“We need to draw Daniel Esteban out of hiding. He knows that we have bottled up the country since the attack on us. He has a personal vendetta against us. That much is obvious.”

“There is one problem with the plan. How do we know that he’s still in the country? Perhaps he left right after firing the RPG on your home?”

“Sam, you know his MO as well as we do. He trusts no one but himself to lead this sort of operation. Anyone who fails to deliver gets dealt with on the spot. So far, his operation has been pretty successful. Yes, it failed at Dorney Wood but it took out the head of ‘5’. The US and the other nations won’t keep quiet about the incident at Dorney Wood for much longer. If we can show to them that we are taking active measures to apprehend Esteban they may hold off telling the media for a bit longer.”

Sam gave that resigned ‘I know, I know’ look.

“I’ll put it to COBRA when we meet in two hours. That’s the best I can offer at the moment.”

There was not a lot we could do in the meantime so we headed off to my room and tried to get some sleep even though it was still daylight.

One of the things you learn very early in this business is to sleep wherever and whenever the opportunity presents itself.

---

I was awoken by my phone ringing. Still half asleep, I answered it.

“Yes”

“Oh hello Sam. We were getting some sleep.”

“I can wake her if you want me to?”

“Ok.”

I looked at the still comatose Jemma. She was in a deep sleep.

“Sam, I don’t want to wake Jemma she seemed just about out on her feet just a few hours ago.”

“Understood. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

I ended the call and laid back down into the bed. It was nice and cosy and Jemma was right beside me. If I could have, I would have stayed here all day but I couldn’t.

I gathered my thoughts and slowly got out of bed. I didn’t want to disturb her if I could not help it.

Exactly twenty-three minutes after the call, I quietly closed the door to my room behind me. I tip-toed to the Lift and pressed the ‘call’ button.

Sam was waiting for me as I emerged from the Lift.

“Good Evening Sam,” I said.

“On-time as usual I see?”

“Habit of a lifetime, but you know that...”

“Shall we go?”

---

Ten minutes later we entered No 10 Downing St via the tunnel from the Ministry of Defence. I was going to attend my first and hopefully last COBRA meeting.

After the almost chaotic scenes in the Department, the atmosphere inside No 10 was serene and calm. People moved about with a purpose in their stride but it was as if we were stepping inside a well-oiled machine.

After a moment, I realised that was exactly the way that the centre of government should be working. I could not detect any sense of panic or uncertainty.

We were ushered into the COBRA meeting room. There were no external windows and the door was at least a foot thick. I guessed that it was not only sound proofed but blast-proofed and probably had a Faraday cage built into the walls. We were also two floors underground so Mobile Phones were useless which was perfect for frank and honest discussions

I recognised a few of the people around the table. No one said a word of greeting or ‘what the hell is she doing here!’. I concluded that I was expected and this was a place of work where there was no time for fripperies.

Sam showed me to a seat and almost immediately, the meeting began. The Home Secretary was chairing it.

“The PM should be joining us in a few minutes but we are having trouble establishing a stable video link to the aircraft so she has given me the authority to act in her absence.”

He paused for effect before continuing.

“As you all know, the PM is currently flying back from Washington and her plane is currently just over five hundred miles to the west of Ireland.”

He looked down at the papers in front of him. I realised that everyone apart from myself had a similar briefing pack in front of them. I probably did not have the required security clearance so it did not worry me.

“We have received some intel a little over two hours ago of a threat to the PM’s plane. This comes from NATO HQ in Brussels so we have to assume that it is reliable. Since we received that data we have confirmed information that no less than three fishing trawlers have been stolen in the last twenty-four hours. One from Newlyn in Cornwall, one from Campbelltown in Argyle and one from Galway in the Irish Republic.”

I mentally mapped them out in my mind.

“As you all know, the current threat assessment is code RED Plus. The thefts indicate that there is a credible threat to the PM. As a result, I have authorised the threat level be raised to RED Critical. We have not been at this level since the height of the Cuban Missile Crisis. The latest satellite images show that these trawlers are positioning themselves right underneath the three main West to East flight paths into UK Airspace. You don’t need me to tell you what this means.”

He paused for effect.

“We have to assume that there are several surface-to-air missiles on each of the trawlers. We have already notified the PM and the flight has been diverted off the published flight plan. The new route is for the plane to head towards French airspace and enter it off the Coast of Brittany.

Then it would head towards UK airspace after passing over Cherbourg.”

I began to feel relieved but he carried on.

“The latest intel we received from an American Satellite as it flew over the area some fifteen minutes ago, is that the trawler that was positioned forty-six miles West of Land’s End is currently steaming South at between fifteen and twenty knots. It appears that someone has leaked the change of plan already. That will need to be dealt with. We have to also accept that the UK is under attack from persons unknown but is more than likely to be Daniel Esteban.”

Most of the people around the table looked at me. I felt rather uncomfortable.

I was trying to think of something to say when the door to the room opened and a sheet of paper was handed to the Home Secretary.

He read the sheet and gave a nod. The person who’d delivered the note turned and left the room.

When the door was closed, the Home Secretary said,

“I have updates on two of the trawlers.”

“One of our Nuclear Attack Submarines has apprehended the Fishing Boat that was off of the Argyle Peninsular. It was returning from patrol and was our closest asset. It surfaced alongside the fishing boat which must have put the fear of god into those on the boat. All the people on board have been taken into custody. There are two Navy Helicopters on their way from the Naval base at Faslane to take the prisoners to the mainland. The Navy is dealing with the Six, yes Six Sam-7 Shoulder Launched Surface to Air Missiles that were on board. We have to expect that similar amount of ordnance is on the other trawlers.”

There were several sharp intakes of breath in the room. No one doubted the seriousness of the situation.

“The trawler that is off the Irish Coast is being chased by an Irish Navy Frigate and a Guarda Patrol Boat. The Dublin Government is very unhappy at their territory being used as a base for a terrorist attack on the leader of another nation. Dublin has also given their forces permission to shoot to kill. Thankfully, the provisions for co-operation in these events that are contained in the Good Friday Agreement has worked very well. They are confident that the Trawler will be stopped within the hour.”

“Finally, in view of the change of course by the remaining Trawler, RAF Command has instructed the Pilot of the A-330 carrying the Prime Minister to divert to the north and it will enter UK Airspace over South West Wales and will make a landing at Brize Norton shortly thereafter. Details of her return to London are not yet available.”

"Oh, and one final thing, on the advice of the head of the RAF, I have ordered the Commander of the aircraft carrying the PM to turn off their IFF beacon. I am given to understand that allows some websites to track the aircraft. We don't want the route of the aircraft to be in public domain at this time. NATO and the Irish Government have been informed and have agreed with the decision."

He turned his attention to me.

“Now Ms Marceau. We have considered the outline to your plan and frankly, it is head and shoulders above anything anyone else has proposed. If you need any help all you need to do is ask.”

I was stunned. I expected a modern day ‘Spanish Inquisition’ before a ‘we shall consider the plan and let you know’ result. Then I realised that this was a time for action.

“Thank you, Sir. In view of the latest developments, we do not require any additional assistance other than that laid out in the original plan.”

“In that case,” said the Home Secretary,

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Operation Caldicot is a Go.”

My heart was beating at twenty to the dozen.

Before I knew it, the room was clearing and only three of us remained. Sam, myself and the head of MI6. Then someone I didn’t recognise arrived.

“Sorry I was late, there were some reports of sightings of Esteban in Docklands. They came in just as I was about to leave to come here. Sadly, they turned out to be false.”

We knew that as he’d phoned through to explain his absence.

Sam said,

“Angelique, meet Sebastian Downs. Seb, is acting head of MI5 pending confirmation by the PM when she returns.”

Sebastian smiled back at me.

“Pleased to meet you Ms Marceau,” he said.

“I have read your dossier and have to say that we all owe you a lot. I will make sure that you my department gives you all the assistance you need to make whatever you are planning a success.”

His voice was thin and distinctive. I’d heard it before but I could not work out where it was. His name was also jogging some memories from somewhere but I could not place when and where it was.

I put those concerns to the back of my mind as we got down to discuss the details of the plan and what resources would be needed.

The detailed planning took us almost three hours. At the end, I was satisfied that we had covered all the bases.

With everyone in agreement, we adjourned and returned to our respective departments.

---

Jemma was waiting for us when we arrived back.

“Where have you been?” she asked with a very concerned voice.

“COBRA,” said Sam.
Nothing more needed to be said.

“We have a ‘Go’ for 18:00 tomorrow,” I added.

Jemma’s eyes bulged from their sockets.

“Really?”

“Yes, replied Sam. ‘5’ were especially helpful for once. Perhaps their acting head wants to mend the bridges with us and hopefully get the job on a permanent basis? He’s called Sebastian Downs. He was very helpful with the planning.”

Both ‘5’ and ‘6’ were envious of us in that we answered directly to the PM. They were subject to Parliamentary scrutiny of their budget and operations. We weren’t and that was sometimes the cause of a lot of infighting. Because of our goal to remain invisible, we often let them have the credit for a successful operation. That usually helped smooth over the gaps between our departments.

Jemma and I headed for the Cafeteria and something to eat.

We’d just finished our meal when Jemma said,

“Ok, out with it. Something is bothering you. You can tell me you know that.”

I looked at Jemma and her expression told me that she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“This is it for us isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Us. When this is over what’s next for me, for you and for us?”

I took hold of her hand and looked in her eyes.

“Us is what I want and apart from the Midges, would ‘Joy’s Retreat’, be so bad as a place to retire to?”

“You say the sweetest things… Or is it your boat and the fishing that you love? Do I get a look in as well?”

I squeezed her hand and looked her in the eye.

“Everything. You have grown to love the place just as much as me. You even won the best ‘Terrine’ at the local show last year. I caught the trout and you made waved your magic wand in the kitchen. We are a team. Always have been and always will be. Besides, neither of us have anywhere else to go now do we? Our other place of residence is hardly liveable and besides it is or rather was, a department flat.

“I’m just being a silly woman, aren’t I?”

“No, my darling you are not. We have a big day ahead of us and the outcome is by no means clear to anyone.”

“I guess so.”

Then after a sigh she added,

“We need to get some sleep. We are going to have a long day tomorrow.”

“Don’t forget that we have a few seeds to sow tonight? Are you ready to drop the hint that we are alive on FaceBook?”

Her face brightened up considerably.

“All ready my dear. I’m using the Sandy White account. One of their followers is a known informant to Daniel Esteban’s Florida Organisation.”
I smiled and took her hand as we headed for the lift and the short ride down to Level 3 Comms. This was the one part of the building that had direct and non-firewalled access to the Internet Backbone. The Security was even tighter than usual but we didn’t mind as we knew that it was essential. The rules were simple. No media in and no media out. We could take things in on paper but that was it. We could print out things and remove the copy. The room was shielded just as much as the COBRA Room was.

Jemma hit the keys and put up a post on FaceBook saying that the fake person, Sandy White had seen me getting on a train to Bristol at London’s Paddington Station. Sandy’s alias worked at the Foreign Office. There was a Higher Admin Officer on the staff at the Foreign Office called Sandy White just in case anyone did any checking. They even had their own office with Sandy’s name on the door. There was even an address in Queens Park in her name. This was the sort of lengths we went to, to make an alias work.

We seeded another few items of information thanks to a couple of Officers from Special Branch and their Informants.

With that done we returned to the apartment at the top of the building.

I made a single phone call to someone I knew that we could rely on. After the call, I texted the details to him. He’d be in position the following lunchtime.

Then we hit the sack.

---

Several hours later, Jemma sat up in bed and shrieked.

“Wha… what’s the matter?” I asked still very much asleep.

“I know where we heard that name before!”

“What name?”

“The acting head of ‘5’. Sebastian something…”

“Sebastian Downs. Where have we heard it before then?”

[to be continued]
[1] RAF Lakenheath is actually a USAF base.
[2] COBRA is the British Government’s emergency response committee set up to respond to a national or regional crisis. Standing for Cabinet Office Briefing Room A, the COBRA Committee comes together in moments of perceived crisis under the chairmanship of either the Prime Minister or the Home Secretary.