Hunted (eBook)

Prologue

Gibraltar, British Overseas Territory in the Mediterranean.

MI6 operative Nia Munro rested her hand on the hilt of her Glock as she moved silently along the narrow corridor of the midtown first-floor office space, systematically checking each room in turn. The sparsely furnished building had just barely enough inside to avoid an empty shell feeling. For 0700 hours on a Friday morning, the place was deserted, which was hardly surprising for a newly listed commercial rental property.

“What’s your sitrep, Sierra?” asked the echoing male voice in her ear.

Responding to her mission callsign, Nia exited the last office and replied to her team leader through her hidden communications earpiece. “This level is clear and all buttoned-up, Charlie, including the rear emergency exit.”

“Copy that. Same here on the top floor... and the roof access is secure.” Seconds later, he added, “Yankee has finished the downstairs sweep and will head to the roof to provide overwatch covering the back alley. Zulu is staying put and keeping an eye on the front entrance, while Oscar is on his way up from the secure underground car park with our HVT and his entourage. We’ll meet up with them in the main lobby.”

Their high-value target, or HVT, had traveled in secrecy with one assistant and his personal secretary from The Hague in the Netherlands to meet up with them in London. From there, the group took a private jet to Gibraltar, where Munro’s five-man team had staked out this clandestine meeting place since yesterday in anticipation of this morning’s highly classified deposition. It was a peculiar mission that allowed for much less preparation time than what they would have liked, but circumstances were seldom ideal in her line of work.

“Babysitting the special prosecutor for the International Criminal Court sure beats sifting through mind-numbing intelligence reports while entombed in a windowless subbasement at Vauxhall Cross,” Nia remarked.

The MI6 headquarters, situated at Vauxhall Cross on the River Thames in London felt suffocating at times. Nicknamed Legoland and Babylon-on-Thames, on account of it resembling a giant ziggurat or rectangular stepped tower similar to that of a biblical Babel, the architecture consisted of three distinct blocks interlinked by courtyards and atria. The building was ultra secure and featured its own let-loose spy bar in addition to a maze of underground tunnels.

“Officially, we’re serving as part of a protective detail assigned to an envoy of British trade delegates to Cyprus in the Middle East. Though, I hear you; it’s been all hands on deck off the back of that last major data breach a couple of weeks ago, and hence the added cloak-and-dagger precautions now... Nevertheless, I don’t know why you are whining, you get allocated more field missions than I do.”

“Some assignments require finesse and my unassuming appearance; a mountain of a muscle man like yourself tends to get noticed,” she teased.

At five feet and five inches, Munro hardly stood out with her thick strands of shoulder-length black hair and chocolate brown eyes. Born and raised in Hong Kong as a British national to Taiwanese and Chinese parents, Nia was only six when the territory was returned to China on July 1, 1997. After finishing her high school years in Hong Kong, she moved to London where she was studying modern languages on a scholarship when recruited by MI6.

“That’s hardly why you get picked: You are a superb agent with excellent intuition who speaks many languages and is an asset to any team; you’ve proven that time and again.” Charlie’s tone softened. “I know you’ve had it rough the last few years with some of the assholes at work, but I want you to know that I’d have you on my team any day—watching my back. I respect the hard choices you’ve had to make out of necessity in following your conscience, and which you managed with the utmost integrity, showing your fortitude of character.”

Munro’s step faltered as she swallowed the lump in her throat. She had worked herself to the bone to be a cut above her peers. Not a stranger to being stereotyped because of her cultural heritage or red-baiting, Nia learned to bury her indignation and take such ignorance on the chin. However, the situation had become almost unbearable in the wake of her cousin being charged with espionage. Redeeming her tattered reputation had proven beyond her reach; suspicious looks followed her like a stench wherever she went.

Her voice dropped to a whisper; “I appreciate you saying that, much more than you’ll ever know.”

This was Nia’s eighth mission with Charlie as her team leader. He had always treated her fairly and did not tolerate discord among those under his command.

“You’ve sacrificed plenty for your country and deserve to be treated better.” After a few moments of silence, he said, “Anyway, fancy us being sent out here to the Rock in the middle of August. Normally, I never get to go anywhere nice.”

The Rock is a reference to Gibraltar being a symbol of the United Kingdom’s naval strength due to this heavily fortified British air and naval base guarding the strategic Strait of Gibraltar, which is the sole entry point for passing seaborne trade from the Atlantic Ocean to the Mediterranean Sea, and further east, to the Suez Canal. In addition, the Rock of Gibraltar jutted out a quarter mile high above the peninsula. This prominent mountainous headland consisting of Jurassic limestone is of historic significance and a focal point of many ancient myths, including being one of the two traditional Pillars of Hercules in Greek mythology. Plato postulated that Atlantis lay beyond these pillars, and at one stage this foreboding landmark was used to caution sailors and navigators not to pass yonder.

Slipping past a window, Nia glanced out at the imposing rock formation and mumbled her agreement.

Charlie continued talking in her ear, “I would have preferred to miss out on this hot, humid, rainless summer month though: Wearing body armor has me literally sweating like a pig. If not for that air conditioning unit working overtime in our safe house, I’d have tossed and turned all night long and be totally useless today.”

The MI6 protective detail had alternated between taking shifts keeping watch, running reconnaissance missions, and sleeping.

Nia wiped sweat from her brow and collared her bulletproof vest hidden under her blouse. “Yup, it’s already a sauna in here.”

Gibraltar has a Mediterranean climate and shares a land border with Spain to its north. The region thrives on tourism, private banking, shipping, and hosting an abundance of online gambling operations drawn by its favorable tax incentives. Comprising of a population of under forty thousand inhabitants, and with Gibraltar spanning an area of only 2.6 square miles, agriculture is notably non-existent due to lack of usable space.

Peculiarly, landing in Gibraltar is a traffic-stopping event with the road leading into the territory getting closed off each time an aircraft uses the runway at its airport, which happen to span the whole breadth of its Spanish border.

Munro pushed the elevator button. “Hmm, I got told off for trying to pay for my morning coffee with British one pound coins, instead of Gibraltar pounds, cementing my dim-witted tourist impersonation.”

Spies know not to make such elementary mistakes, even though the two currencies are identical in size and weight.

“Same here... Evidently, the locals are so used to visiting family members of servicemen stationed here forking out the wrong currency that new faces do not even register on their radar. At least they don’t expect everyone with a Pommy accent to purchase a cup of tea.” Charlie chuckled at his own remark.

The elevator doors opened with her team leader waiting inside. His gray speckled temples had become more prominent over the past eight months following the stress of his marriage breaking down and the subsequent acrimonious divorce. The lot of being a spy had finally taken its toll on his private life, similar to what has happened to so many of her other work acquaintances. And here most of us thought that Charlie was the perfect poster boy for a balanced life.

Nia ran her fingers through her dark, sweat-damp hair as the doors closed. “What are you up to this weekend on your day off, apart from trying to stay cool, that is?”

Her team was tasked with safeguarding their HVT until he boarded a private flight with his entourage back to The Hague first thing the next morning and would stay behind another day for some well-deserved rest and recreation prior to heading back to London.

Charlie, whose given name happened to match his callsign, crossed his arms over his massive chest. “I’ve done the tourist thing and rented a car under one of my aliases to drive to Algeciras in Spain and from there have booked a return ferry trip to Tangier Med, Morocco. I plan on cruising along the coastline to Tangier and wandering around the markets for the day. It takes about an hour with the ferry and another forty minutes’ drive to the city. I should be back by nightfall. You?”

The elevator doors opened, and Munro stepped into the empty lobby. The outer glass cladding was tinted in such a way that passersby could not see inside. “I tend to get seasick when things get rough out there and avoid traveling by boat whenever I can, so I’m taking the cable car to the central summit of the ridge on the Rock and...