When Needs Must

By David O'Neil

The latest action adventure thriller in the Counterstroke series opens with a new character Major Teddy Robertson–Steel fighting for survival in Africa. Mark Parnell and Katt Percival now working together for Secure Inc. are joined by Captain Libby ‘Carter’ Barr, now in plain clothes, well mostly, and her new partner James Wallace. They are tasked with locating and thwarting the efforts of three separate threats to the European scene that threatens the separation of the United Kingdom from the political clutches of Brussels, by using terrorism to create wealth by a group of billionaires, and the continuing presence of the Mob, bankrolled from USA. An action adventure thriller filled with romance, mystery and suspense. With the appearance of a new team, Dan and Reba, and the return of Peter Maddox, Dublo Bond and Tiny Lewis, there is action and adventure throughout as well as romance, danger and suspense. Change will happen, it just takes the right people, at the right time, in the right place. And the right determination; grit, if you will.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A-Argus Better Book Publishers
• Release date: May 21, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310915475

David O'Neil

David is 79 years old. He lives in Scotland and has been writing for the past five years. He has had three guidebooks published and two more coming out through Argyll Publishing, located in the Highlands. He still guides tours through Scotland, when he is not writing or painting. He has sailed for decades and has a lifelong interest in the history of the navy. As a young man, he learned to fly aircraft in the RAF and spent 8 years as a Colonial police officer in what is now Malawi, Central Africa. Since that time, he worked in the Hi Fi industry and became a Business Consultant. David lives life to the fullest, he has yet to retire and truthfully, never intends to.

Book preview

When Needs Must...

(Counterstroke Book 3)

By

David O’Neil

When Needs Must... © 2013. All rights reserved by David O’Niel.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any informational storage retrieval system without prior permission in writing from the publisher.

W & B Publishers at Smashwords

Post Office Box 193

Colfax, NC 27235

Book Cover designed by Dubya

Intro

Following the establishment of the Trans-Ocean-Trading Company and its subsidiary Secure Inc, the existence of this alternative justice operation became tacitly accepted by the Western Nations.

The withdrawal of the United Kingdom from the political union in Europe, though an established fact, was being seriously delayed by the elements against the withdrawal in the UK itself.

The Mob has returned to re-establish a presence in the EU and part of its brief is to keep the Union in its present form, allowing easy distribution across borders without hindrance from customs and immigration.

Because of the involvement with Brussels over the past years, a web of joint legislation exists. This needs to be disentangled before the final separation can be achieved. It means that some of the resources of Secure Inc. are needed to support the effort toward separation of the official bodies suffering harassment, and who are hampered by the need to use orthodox methods against people who use criminal methods to achieve their ends.

In addition, a group of wealthy men are providing financial support to promote a Jihad for financial gain. This is an additional issue for the Secure Inc team.

The stability of the European currency is seriously in hazard, with the extra burden of finance being channelled into criminal hands rather than to the causes they were intended for. Secure Inc is becoming stretched.

Chapter one.....restart

It was more than just a little hot. There was very little sweat left in him. Reluctantly he inched the water bottle round and took a sip, just a few drops. He shook the bottle to check how much was left. It did not sound too hopeful. Peering around the rock that sheltered him, he was able to make out the small group of tribesmen arguing among themselves. Realising that they were all together in the group, he hauled the aged Bren-gun up and checked the magazine. There was a full load. There had been no chance to shoot when he had last changed the magazine.

He checked again. The group was still there. He lifted the gun and slid the barrel through the gap. Reaching out, he managed to set the bipod in place and slid behind the gun. Because of the ground he was not able to get exactly the correct position. He made do, and drew back the cocking handle. He swung the barrel from side to side. At this range, about 400 yards, he could cover the entire group easily. He breathed in, held it and, starting from the left, opened fire.

The group was absolutely shattered. They had no idea he was armed with a weapon that was so accurate at such a range. Of the twelve men that formed the group only two survived. Both received wounds that put them down.

Satisfied, having seen them drop, he dragged himself up and cautiously peered over the rock barrier that had protected him for the past three hours. There was no movement from their location. He looked up wonderingly at the growing number of vultures gathering. How did they know? One dropped down and rose up again hurriedly. Another dropped followed by a third. Then others arrived and landed without hesitation.

Major Edward ‘Teddy’ Robertson-Steel DSO. MC, late of the Queens Own Highlanders, currently serving with the SAS, stretched his cramped muscles. He cautiously made his way to the location of his attackers. The vultures moved away sluggishly when he got there. Two of the men were still alive. One called out to him as he came into view, crying for mercy. The other looked at him coldly, and tried to spit with little success. He looked around at the bodies. Spotting a big knife at the belt of one of the dead he took it and approached the pleading man. With the point of the blade he cut the man’s mouth and drew slits across his forehead. Ignoring the cries of the man, he turned to the other wounded man from whom he received a steady look of hatred. Dropping the knife, he regretfully dismantled the Bren gun, and set off for the Land Rover, parked still, he hoped, seven miles away across the African bush near the shores of Lake Malawi. He discovered it untouched, apart from a leopard’s tracks across the roof, three hours later.

Ali Sabile managed to reach the water bottle in his pack. His wound was painful but not as bad as he had thought. He listened to the wails of his wounded compatriot, and made the decision. Dragging himself to his feet he picked up the knife dropped by the Englishman, stepped over the body of their foolish leader and with one stroke stopped the complaints of his fellow survivor. He walked slowly over to the only shade there was beside the rocks and sat gratefully out of the direct sunlight. He estimated that he could make it to the village if he survived until sunset. He gritted his teeth. He had to survive so that he could avenge his comrades and his wife who lay dead where the Englishman had left her alongside his son who had died defending her.

Teddy Robertson-Steel sweated as he strode through the bush country. He smiled, recalling the struggle the woman had put up, and when the boy had appeared with the panga. It had surprised him, but it had been easy to kill him. After a short chase he had the woman, he strangled her as he finished. It had been a satisfactory conclusion to the day. The villager’s return had been inconvenient, causing him to run before he had time to collect all his gear. Picking up the old Bren turned out to be an inspiration. He recalled the thrill of joy as he mowed down the men like corn before a reaper.

It was dark as he drove through the Mozambique town of Chivinde. The border with Tanzania was three hours beyond the former Portuguese town. Rather than bother the border guards at that time of night he drove off from the main road north, guided by the stars in the incredible star-scape that lit the night sky from horizon to horizon. He passed over the frontier without even being aware of it, and homed in on Chiwamba, the nearest town, guided by the glow in the sky of its recently installed street lights.

The parts of the Glock 17 were scattered on the table. The cloth, carefully laid out to cover the table and prevent any oil from damaging it, was a torn pair of arctic longjohns, discarded from her wardrobe. Captain Libby ‘Carter’ Barr—formerly of the Rifle Brigade and the SAS—cleaned the gun parts fiercely, determinedly keeping the tears at bay. Finally she rapidly re-assembled the weapon and dry-snapped the trigger before cleaning each round and replacing it in the magazine. She clipped the magazine in place and cocked the weapon. For a moment she looked at it, still deep in thought. Then setting the safety she put the gun into the belt holster that was tucked in her waistband against her spine.

With mixed feelings, she found it difficult to settle exactly what was wrong with her. She knew she should be upset because Captain Peter Strange ex-SBS, who was now in Afghanistan, had just written to confirm that he had become engaged to a nurse serving in the Helmand Base. She was actually relieved, and it made her feel guilty. Sheila Davenport, the Director of M16, a close friend of hers for the past year had shrugged and asked, Did you enjoy being with Peter?

She had.

Did you expect to marry him?

She had not even though about it.

So, what is the problem? Sheila had a pragmatic view of life, even though love had come late for her. The man in her life now, Colonel ‘Mad Mike’ Madden, had become her husband ten months ago. For her there had been no question. She became aware soon after meeting him that he was the only man she would want to spend the rest of her life with.

Libby showered, dressed and prepared for the briefing from Mark Parnell at the High Wycombe base of Secure Inc. Having considered retirement after the last operation she had undertaken, and after discussing things with Peter, she decided that she was not really ready to retire.

Peter had received an offer from an old friend, so he was now in Helmand, shacked up with a nurse. She shrugged. Accepting that this was the way she wanted to live—for the present at least—she had re-enlisted with Secure Inc. This time in plain clothes—what they referred to as the spook squad. She straightened her skirt and fluffed up her short hair slightly. With a final look in the mirror she picked up her bag and stepped out into the spring sunshine.

The walk past Marble Arch and down Park Lane was spoiled by the passing traffic, though the sun had made a brave effort at shining between the puffy white clouds scattered across the blue sky. It was not far to the Grosvenor House and Libby felt alive. She realised now she was free for the first time since Peter’s last message.

She strode into the foyer of the hotel, eyes searching for—and swiftly finding—Gaynor Jones, who rose to her feet as Libby approached. The two friends touched cheeks. Both ladies were tanned to gold. After a brief word, the two departed the hotel. The limousine that had arrived to collect them was at the front door. The eyes of every man in the lounge followed the pair every inch of the way.

The driver of the limo held the door, and saw them settled comfortably in their seats. As he took his place behind the wheel, Libby said, Hullo, Robert; nice to see you looking so well. Wally is still looking after you properly, I hope?

Nice to see you back with us, Captain. If I might say so, you are looking better than ever, and yes, Wally is still looking after us all. Thank you for asking.

Gaynor smiled. The relationships between the drivers and the operatives were unique to Secure Inc. The limo was provided by Wally Peterson, an old and valued friend of John Murray, Secure Inc.’s founder. Wally was a trusted independent contractor who provided limo service as part of a wide range of specialised activities, and for many years had been retained by M16 as a consultant. All the drivers were trained in a variety of specialities that included the use and operation of a range of weaponry that were conveniently concealed within the framework of the various vehicles. It was known among those who regularly used the service that riding with a Peterson chauffeur was a guarantee of a safe journey.

I was booked to take you two ladies to the country this morning, Robert said with a smile, so it’s a jaunt down the M40 in the sunshine. We should be there in an hour, so if you don’t mind, ladies, I will retire to the Albert Hall and leave you two to chat in peace. At the press of a button a glass screen rose as the strains of Vivaldi started, only to be suddenly cut off as the screen seated itself closed, leaving the two women in air-conditioned privacy.

The Trans-Ocean-Trading complex at High Wycombe covered a considerable area in the Industrial Estate. The successful international shipping company had given birth to Secure Inc, as a natural progression into ensuring the goods they handled were protected. The birth of Secure Incorporated had been at a time when major war had broken out between John and Gabrielle Murray and the International Mob using the cover of COMCO, the biggest shipping company in the world at the time. The High Wycombe site included the headquarters of Secure Inc, and it was to this building Robert delivered the two friends, just under one hour from Park Lane.

They were greeted by Bill Pullman, head of the security investigation section for Europe and Gaynor’s boss. He put his hand out to shake hands. Hullo, Carter!

Libby avoided the hand and kissed his cheek as she gave him a hug. Hullo, Bill. I hear congratulations are in order.

Pullman blushed but smiled anyway. Uh, yes, well. It’s good to see you, Libby, and thank you. Shall we go inside and get on with things?

They entered the building and Bill led the way to the elevators located behind the reception desk.

In the elevator, Bill reached out and pressed two of the floor keys at the same time. The doors closed and the car descended two floors to the underground base of the military and plain-clothed arm of Secure Inc. It was here that the sub-rosa activities of Secure Inc were planned and, to a large extent, the investigative activities of the plain-clothes section of the Uniform security company had their work analysed and often planned, well away from prying eyes.

The set-up from the beginning had been based on the Trading Company TOT. Secure Inc was a uniformed security company, and their employees could be seen at factory gates and in the reception areas of major corporations. These two operations provided cover for the investigation group comprising ex-Special Branch, FBI, and M15 and 6, with plain-clothed SAS and SBS, Delta force and Seals. With a world-wide field of operations, the deep-cover operation used ex-Special Forces in uniformed military mode—ostensibly mercenary.

Each section of the company was strictly controlled, and the selection of personnel was entirely based on recommendation from within the company.

In Bill’s office, seated with coffee all-round, the briefing began. Gaynor Jones, Bill Pullman’s deputy, started running a DVD. The scenes on the wall-mounted flat-screen monitor showed several suicide bombers and the effects of their sacrifice. A string of events engineered by terrorists, torn limbs, shattered buildings, death, injury, and shattered lives. The screen faded and a small group of people was now shown talking earnestly around a table. All were dressed in western clothing. One was apparently Asian. The others could fit into any office in the Western Hemisphere without a ripple. The sound came up and the voices were all educated: two American, the others English. All spoke in cultured tones. The subject was international politics. There were no raised voices and the subjects discussed were the solutions to problems with the European Union. Mention was also made to the growing upsurge of isolationism in the United States, the cultivation of the lunatic fringes who provided the destabilisation of the status quo, the use of groomed paranoid shooters who chose to sit and murder innocent bystanders with rifle fire from long distance, the more dramatic—close-range—suicidal shooters who were willing to die alongside their victims, and selection of children and young people as victims to create incidents that divided communities and de-stabilised governments.

The calm discussion on the screen displayed no feeling of any guilt or regret for the horror that they were discussing. the end result being the only reason for the exercise. Libby was struck by the callous disregard for the lives of the people brainwashed into carrying suicide bombs, some of whom were driven by threats of harm to their families if they refused to co-operate. Finally their bland assumption that they had the right to slaughter innocent people in the name of their religion.

The second part of the DVD dealt with the creation of situations where mass indoctrination of whole nations was to be undertaken to create strife in the name of religion. It was at this point that the real reason for the meeting came to light. The men had assembled for wholly financial reasons. The acquisition of oil rights and the exploitation of schisms between factions for financial gain demonstrated the cynical disregard for human values shared by those seated round the table.

When the DVD finished, Bill Pullman said, So what did you think?

Libby sat and collected her thought before replying. Then she said, It was disgusting, and I had the feeling that it had been created deliberately to make me feel that disgust.

Gaynor looked at Bill with a grin. That’s a fiver you owe me.

Libby looked from one to the other. What is that all about?

Gaynor said, I told Bill that would be your reaction. He was not so sure. So I bet him a fiver that you would question the origins and purpose of the DVD.

Bill spoke then, I brought you here to discuss the DVD and the people who made it. We have the idea that the DVD was made as a deliberate provocation to stir up reaction and upset the elements of government who are trying to keep a lid on the more rowdy elements of the population. We believe that the entire cast of the film you just saw was made up of professional actors. The sole purpose of the film was to create unrest.

The door opened and a big man came in, followed by a woman who could compete comfortably with the two seated in the office.

Well, what did you make of that? Mark Parnell asked the room in general. Hi, Carter, you’re looking good!

Katt Percival said, For Pete’s sake, Mark, give it a break. We haven’t seen Libby for three months. Stop long enough to breathe, please. Turning to Libby, she took her hand and said, We only met when you were in uniform. I hardly recognised you, just now. Where did you find that outfit? It looks like Chanel?

Libby laughed. Kings Road, I’m afraid. But you can talk. You look as if you’ve stepped out of a Vogue photo shoot!

Mark grinned. Oh, come on, you two. Enough of the girly chat. I apologise. I’m sorry, I just get carried away sometimes. I feel outnumbered by being in the same room with three such beautiful women! Alright?

All three beautiful women were laughing by now and even Bill Pullman was smiling. I think it’s a good time to break for lunch, he said. Margaret has been looking forward to meeting you all and trying out her skills as a chef.

The group adjourned the Maidenhead home of Bill and Margaret Pullman for lunch.

Margaret and Bill had only met a few months ago, in circumstances that could not have been described as ideal. She had been the proprietor of an escort agency, which—against her will—had been hauled into contact with the criminal gang that was running matters in London at the time.

Bill was involved in a raid on the gang’s premises. Margaret had been in unwilling attendance at the time.

She met Bill and felt an immediate connection. Being a lady of strong character and enterprise, she emailed him, arranged to meet, and that was that. As Gaynor commented to Libby on the way back to the office, she had re-humanised Bill Pullman.

***

In Hereford Captain James Wallace.MC was packing. The small flat he was leaving was the pied-a-terre he had used while he was operating out of Hereford as an officer in the SAS. The type of service he had performed was better kept apart from the direct link with the army which living in the Officer’s Mess would have entailed. He felt bitter about leaving the job now, but there was no alternative. As he collected things for packing, he glanced at the prosthesis on his left arm. He frowned, he knew there had been no choice; he had been parted from the hand and lower section of his forearm.

Wounded while he was evading capture in Afghanistan, his unit had managed to pass through the enemy zone by using the sewers. It had not been a serious wound but, by the time he had reached safety, gross infection had set in, and the surgeons were left with no alternative but to amputate before the poison spread through his body and killed him. He was hospitalised for over 30 days before he was released. The prosthetic forearm and hand was incredible, but the SAS could only offer a desk job if he wished to remain with them. Otherwise, it was back to his regiment as Company Commander. After the excitement of the undercover roles he had been carrying out for the past three years, that prospect did not appeal to him. He had another four weeks to consider it. From then on he would be on his own.

There had been a fiancée, but she had soon got fed up with the sudden absences. She was now the wife of the Director of Planning for Middlesbrough—of all places—and doing very nicely it seemed.

He looked around the flat as he prepared to leave. This place he would not miss. He had booked in at the Victory Club at Marble Arch in London. He would sort things out from there.

***

In the briefing room at Secure Inc, Mark was all business. With everyone seated around the table—Libby, Gaynor, Patsy Gorman, Bill Pullman and Katt—he set up the program.

We have decided it is time we targeted the group responsible for the current rise in religious dissention, bombings, shootings and suicide teams. All the authorities seem to be concentrating on the other end of the scale, while the true organisers of these events are tucked away in the background, raking in the financial results. As we see it, there is a group of billionaires that includes names of international repute who consider themselves above the law. So far they have been able to demonstrate that they are correct. After all, would you accuse a Lord Advocate of criminal conduct, or Carnegie of cheating a charity? He paused and pressed a button on the console in front of him. On the screen behind his head there appeared a list of names.

Libby gasped. The list included some of the most respected names in Britain and Europe. Nobility jostled with industrial giants and religious figures.

Katt stepped in at that point. Formerly a highly efficient assassin for the CIA, Katt had been betrayed by a rogue CIA Director. She had encountered Mark—who had been targeted by her handler. She had questioned the assignment, broken the rules, and joined forces with Secure Inc., specifically with Mark. They formed a formidable working team. Mark was a widower and it seemed that their relationship was developing beyond the strictly business; one that had been there from the beginning. Though neither made any public acknowledgement of any such relationship, it was certainly on the cards.

Here Katt was in her element. Addressing Libby directly, she said, Libby, or should I call you Lady Elizabeth Barr?

Libby startled, sat forward. I haven’t used that title since I joined the army.

Quite, but you can use it if you want?

Of course, but why would I?

Katt considered for a moment, Take a look at that list. Who would find it easier to approach those people, Libby Barr, or Lady Elizabeth?

Libby though for a moment, then nodded slowly. I see what you mean. You want me to rejoin the airhead set and ingratiate myself with that bunch wherever I can?

I understand you are not involved with anyone special at the moment, so there would be no difficulty with you dropping out of sight for a while. Katt was serious. I would like you to think about this, because you will actually be dropping into sight, not out of sight here! There won’t be any raised eyebrows that you cannot suppress, will there?

After some thought Libby shook her head. All my close friends are army or here. None would say anything as far as I am aware.

Chapter 2

The party mood

The Lear jet settled down on the desert runway with a short chirrup from the tyres on the tarmac. It taxied over to the low terminal building emblazoned with the Sheikdom’s title. A Rolls Royce was waiting for the three passengers from the jet.

Once inside the air-conditioned interior, the car whispered off across the barren landscape, along an apparently endless strip of tarmac. After only ten minutes the car mounted a long rise and suddenly the sea appeared right across the horizon, with a belt of green surrounding a collection of white houses. On the water offshore several large yachts were moored, with attendant boats flitting to and from the shore.

In the Rolls the woman clapped her hands at the sight, and the younger man smiled at her enthusiasm. The older man dressed in a business suit and carrying a brief case that sat on his lap, showed no interest at all.

Oh, come on, Charles. Crack a smile. You have to admit it is a beautiful view.

I need admit nothing, William. I have things to think about. We are after all headed for a business meeting, not a holiday.

The woman looked disappointed, so William Cameron, swiftly soothed things down. For you, darling, there will be entertainment on the Prince’s yacht. I will join you as soon as the business meeting is over. He looked sharply at Charles. Will you be joining us, Charles?

The older man looked amused at the thought. I think not. On this occasion I will confine myself to the hotel.

William Cameron, whose birth name was Avo Ranala, from Tallin, Estonia, did not allow his irritation to show. Charles Endicott was really turning out to be a complete pain. If he had not been so rich, William would not have bothered becoming acquainted with him. So far it had been convenient, but it was now becoming wearing. It needed thinking about, but it should not be too difficult to arrange an accident, profitable to someone.

***

Sheila Davenport, Director of M16, sat at ease on the ottoman that was part of the furniture of the suite at Grosvenor House.

Lady Elizabeth Barr came forth from the bedroom clad in a scarlet evening dress, slashed to the thigh. Her bare shoulders had a filmy white wrap around them. The ensemble was not enhanced by the calf boots where dainty evening shoes should have been displayed. The shoes were hanging by their sling backs from the lady’s right hand, her other hand held her Glock Automatic. What am I to do with this? she asked plaintively.

The front door of the suite opened at that moment and Mark and a younger man came in.

It would rather spoil the effect. The younger man said. Mind you, the boots don’t help either.

Libby looked coldly at him. I presume you play a part in our little play, but until you do, kindly mind your own business!

Sheila smiled quietly to herself. This, she though, should be an interesting partnership.

Before the younger man could reply Mark broke in. Lady Elizabeth Barr, Captain QRB, SAS, retired. May I introduce Lord Edward Robinson-Steel, DSO MC, Major SAS, retired.

Do we need introduction? Libby asked tartly.

Yes, you do. He is your current boyfriend and escort to tonight’s little get together.

With a sigh, Libby turned to her boyfriend. Hullo, Teddy. They lured you away from the Hereford Club then. She referred to the close knit group that made up the SAS.

Teddy grinned. When you left there was nothing to stay for. Like the new name though. Carter Barr has a ring to it. He stepped over and kissed her cheek.

Sheila sighed, "I should have known. I was looking forward