When everybody was done, Don went outside and surveyed the parking lot and the road beyond. He saw their second vehicle waiting, then went back inside. “The vehicles in question have left,” he said, “and our second vehicle is in place. Let’s load up now and try to be quick.”

He got the family outside and into his Land Rover, then headed back toward the cottage.

Don’s radio crackled. “Alpha, we have a black Toyota SUV one hundred meters behind.”

“Beta, let me know if they close on us.”

Two minutes later they were through the gate and headed for the cottage.

—

ALF BRAND WATCHED from the shelter of the woods as the two cars arrived at the cottage, one entering the garage and closing the door behind them. The other car emptied, and the men all went inside.

Alf called Erik Macher in the States.

“Yes, Alf?”

“Bad news,” he said. “I had a meet with my people at a local pub, and the family came in with professional protection, and they spotted us. The family are now back in their cottage, and six opposition are inside with them.”

“Shit,” Macher said. “What’s your recommendation?”

“We’re blown, no getting around that. The opposition is on full alert and we will not—repeat, not—be able to stage anything that looks remotely like an accident. Also, it’s likely that more opposition have been summoned. If we attempt an assault on the cottage we will have a war on our hands and the police on us in approximately four minutes.”

“So, basically, we’re fucked.”

“That’s an affirmative.”

“I’ll get back to you on this number.”

Alf hung up and leaned against a tree. St. Clair was not going to take the news well—he had worked for the man long enough to know that. If Macher came back with orders to assault the cottage, he would walk. He liked working for St. Clair, but not well enough to die for him or go to prison.

Ten minutes later, his phone buzzed.

“Alf here.”

“All right, we accept your assessment of the situation. Your orders are to withdraw your team, but maintain surveillance on the cottage. If conditions change, and you feel you have an opportunity to take them without a shooting war, call me back. Otherwise, wait for my call.”

“I understand,” Alf said. “Withdrawal is under way.” He called his number-one man.

“Yes, sir?”

“I’m in the woods near the cottage. We have orders from home to withdraw—the opposition is too great to attempt an operation without a firefight. Get your men back to the pub or other nearby accommodation and wait for a call from me. Have one of your people relieve me in two hours. After that we’ll maintain visual contact with the cottage and hope for a change of circumstances. No one is to be out of contact, clear?”