Chapters (76)
- COVER PAGE
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- DEDICATION
- AMIN
- PARIS
- … TWO YEARS LATER
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
- CHAPTER NINETEEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
- CHAPTER THIRTY
- CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
- CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FORTY
- CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
- CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
- CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
- CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
- CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FIFTY
- CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
- CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
- CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
- CHAPTER SIXTY
- CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
- CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
- CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
- CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
- CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
- EPILOGUE
He didn’t have to recite the basics to these experienced people, but it was the protocol for briefing on an operation. ‘I want a low-key observation platform around the MERC. Count the cars and trucks, log the rego plates, assess the hierarchy and get them on camera.’
‘We looking for anyone in particular?’ asked Py, his nickname, Templar, thanks to the Crusader tattoo on his back. ‘We got a POI?’
‘No,’ said de Payns. ‘We’ll log traffic in and out of the MERC compound and assess the best human asset, the one who gives the Company the best chance of access.’
De Payns didn’t want to rely on luck. He counted himself lucky that the mission team was headed by Templar.
‘This was from a drone?’ asked Templar, sorting through the photographic prints of the MERC aerial shots. He sat to de Payns’ right at the long briefing desk, his oversized upper body straining through his lightweight sweatshirt. He was one of the best support team operators in Europe, an expert in tricky exfiltrations, workable disguises, breakouts and ambushes. If someone needed to be secretly plucked from the street of a major city and rendered to a safe site, Templar was your man. The only thing he couldn’t do was lie convincingly, which was why he was never assigned approaches and manipulations. He’d be the only support team that de Payns would have on this first mission. The other two operatives would be techs from Y-9—the Bunker’s technical espionage section.
‘The briefing didn’t tell us if a drone took the photos,’ said de Payns, feeling like he could have done with another twelve hours’ sleep. ‘Anyone have an idea?’ he asked, looking from Templar to Clercq, the head of Y-9. Clercq was a grey-haired forty-something who dressed in cargo pants, sneakers and a polo shirt. He was a smoker with silly jokes but he had a fast brain and careful instincts, and de Payns always liked having him on board. Beside him, in jeans and a sweatshirt, was his colleague Thierry Suquet. At twenty-five he could have passed for a university student—in fact, he had been plucked from an engineering PhD at a polytechnic university in Toulouse—but despite his youthful appearance he was an experienced field operative who had worked in clandestine roles all over Europe and the Middle East.