Discovery

By Drew Scott

The Prologue sets the scene for a bizarre state of events when the housekeeper of KELLY ROSS and the whole village of COURI on the West Coast of Scotland are secreted away to an island where they are held prisoner to work as slaves for the Russian Mafia.
KELLY ROSS M17 agent is duped into returning to London from her assignment in Kenya East Africa and to arrive incognito only to be kidnapped and held prisoner in the basement of a Regents Park house where her childhood friend, and daughter of her housekeeper, HANNAH DOUGAL is also interned.
They escape and find that headquarters has been infiltrated by identical individuals like themselves. Ordered by their Chief MAITLAND, affectionately known as OLD THUNDERGUTS head of the female branch of M17, they make their way to Scotland where they find the whole village of COURI has been kidnapped to work in a Refinery cut out of the inside of the ISLAND OF HANDA. All the new occupants of COURI are identical to the original and KELLY ROSS and HANNAH DOUGAL have to decide who is genuine and who is not. Both are captured and subjected to harsh interrogation before being left in the basement of KELLY’S house to be blown up. They both escape from this situation.
Britain’s economy is booming thanks to the oil fields of the North Sea. A new rig in the Atlantic Ocean, one hundred miles off the coast of Scotland is about to pump more of the black gold into the British economy. Unbeknown to British Intelligence the Russian Mafia has plotted to steal the equivalent of half of everything oilrig DISCOVERY can produce. Behind all this intrigue is the MAFIA Controller IVOR DIMITRI GORSKY and his associates, IGOR and ANYA TIOMKIN.
MI 7 agent, KELLY ROSS of the British Secret Service leaves HANNAH DOUGAL on the ISLAND OF HANDA and makes her way to DISCOVERY. On the way she is again captured by Mafia agents who drop her into the Atlantic from the Helicopter which was supposed to take her to the Oilrig. KELLY manages to blow the Helicopter up on exit . Picked up from the sea by the Marines she arrives on DISCOVERY to find it has been infiltrated. DISCOVERY is cleansed of its infiltrators by KELLY ROSS and she makes her way back to join HANNAH on the ISLAND OF HANDA. On the way back she encounters an apparent accident. Going to the aid of the man and woman, supposedly injured, she is overpowered and sedated by IGOR and ANYA TIOMKIN who take her to GORSKY in the ISLAND OF HANDA.
Meantime, HANNAH has managed to get inside the Island and is there when KELLY is brought in. HANNAH has already discovered that all the inhabitants of COURI are there including her mother and her father who was supposed to be dead, lost at sea two years earlier. HANNAH helps KELLY to get free within the Island and KELLY inserts a THV into GORSKY’S computer system then all hell breaks loose as the Refinery commences to blow up. Not to be outdone, GORSKY has all the occupants of his malevolent scheme ordered on to the deck of the Submarine in which he attempts to escape. He then proposes to submerge and drown all inhabitants of COURI in the ATLANTIC. Again he is foiled by KELLY ROSS. GORSKY and his associates do escape at the end of the story but only because HE and KELLY ROSS are the main characters in a subsequent novel already in preparation called ‘JAMAICAN ASSIGNMENT’. To allow the Russian Mafia to succeed could spell disaster for the British economy. To stop them in their tracks, discredit them in the eyes of the world, would be like someone tearing a mountain apart with their bare hands. Agent KELLY ROSS is just such a person. A female ‘Bond’ at last!!!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Drew Scott
• Release date: May 17, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310500114

Book preview

DISCOVERY

By

Drew Scott

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2016 by Drew Scott

All Rights Reserved.

Prologue

Two miles out in the Atlantic Ocean the periscope of a submarine pointed in the direction of Couri. Every half-hour it emerged from beneath the surface of the sea until precisely 2-30am it was retracted. Suddenly the conning tower of the submarine began to break the surface of the water. Eventually the long sleek cigar shaped body of the submarine surfaced and stopped. There were no identification marks on the body of the submarine. Machine guns stood ominously, fore and aft.

There was a clanging noise as the wheel was turned to release the lock of the opening to the conning tower. Several men emerged through the hatch. Each was dressed in black skin-type suits. Automatic weapons were belted to their sides. They lined up on deck and waited. Large bulky bundles were passed up through the hatch. These were passed down to the men on deck. No one spoke. There were twelve bundles and twelve men. Each man took a bundle, pulled a cord at the side, causing a soft eerie explosion as the sound of each bundle echoed over the moderately calm sea. The bundles hissed and grew in size until they lay on the deck of the submarine as a fully inflated rubber dinghy. Small wooden oars and outboard motors were fitted to each dinghy, then they were lowered over the side. With military precision each man slid over the side into one and waited. A figure appeared at the opening in the conning tower. He raised one finger at the men then closed the hatch, sealing it behind him.

Each man began rowing for the coast just two short miles away. As they headed inland they could see the disappearing hulk of the submarine as it slid below the surface of the water.

****

With a quick flick of her duster, Mrs. Betty Dougal removed the last speck of dust from the Sheraton sideboard. She looked around the room approvingly, then settled down into one of the comfortable armchairs by the fire. The cup of tea she had prepared earlier was still steaming hot. She held the cup in one hand while with the other she removed a Digestive biscuit from the small tin by the side of the saucer, then she began dunking it and munched happily away while she thought of the love and care she had always taken to keep this house in such fine condition. Miss Ross would have no complaints when she returned; she knew that for sure.

For five loving years she had painstakingly cared for the old house in which as a child she remembered her mother had served the old Laird himself. Since he had died, his only daughter had acquired the house but seldom used it except for vacations as she was always working abroad. Nevertheless, she had insisted that she should continue to come regularly, make sure that everything was dusted clean, fires were always lit and in this way the place would not fall into disrepair. Miss Ross had paid her well. Regularly each month on the first of the month a cheque would arrive. She looked forward to it arriving for it gave her the excuse to travel the twenty miles or so up to Durness where her sister lived. There she would see her and bank her cheque at the same time in her modest but thriving account in the Bank of Northern Scotland.

Betty Dougal sipped her tea and reflected on her own life these past two years since her husband Duncan had been lost at sea. If it hadn’t been for Miss Ross offering her the post of housekeeper in her absence she would have found it very difficult making ends meet, for there was little or no work for the women of the small fishing village of Couri where she lived. The men, what was left of them, were fishermen. A few of them owned their own boats, which were moored in Couri Bay and from there they would sail out into the Atlantic, catching what fish was left after the big trawlers had devoured the largest catches. It was on one of these fishing trips that she lost her Duncan. He had been a good man, a good sailor, but the wild sea was no respecter of persons when it came to a storm. Hurricane force winds had hammered the coast, causing his boat to run aground and smash against the rocks near the Island of Handa, leaving five widows to mourn their husbands in the village of Couri.

They were a close knit community with only some 99 inhabitants and some 25 houses.

The only new person to come to live in the village was the minister. He came just after Duncan and the other men were lost at sea. He was young, handsome and unmarried. There was very little likelihood of him marrying anyone in the village as most of the young ones had left to go South to obtain work. Even Hannah, her only daughter, had moved South too and only came home once every two or three years. She was a good daughter, always managing to send her a monthly cheque. So all in all she was comfortable living in Couri, always finding something to keep her busy.

She sipped the last of her tea and lifted herself out of the comfortable armchair. Walking through the polished mahogany doors to the rear of the house to the kitchen she rinsed the cup and saucer, dried them both, placing them carefully back in the Pine Dresser on the wall. The small tin of biscuits she returned to the pantry. Then she made sure the back doors were securely locked before she made her way into the large mahogany panelled hallway with its magnificent carved balustrade leading upstairs to the six bedrooms and two bathrooms on the first floor of the house. There were more rooms at the top of this floor; however, these hadn’t been used in years. It was important that the main part of the house was kept clean and tidy only.

Turning all the lights out before leaving the house, she made her final ritual of going to the front window to look out over the Atlantic Ocean which stretched for miles glistening under the starry sky. Below and to the left of the house she looked lovingly at the small village of Couri. One or two lights were still burning here and there, including the light in the Old Manse at the end of the village. The Minister was working on his Sunday sermon, no doubt, she thought. She turned and went over to the fire still glowing red and placed the fireguard in front of it around the hearth. From the glow she looked at the time on the French carriage Clock on the mantle-piece. It was just four minutes short of midnight. Almost Saturday morning, she thought. A bit late for her as she normally like to be back in her own little cottage by 11-30pm on the Friday night. However, she didn’t really mind, as it was such a lovely evening. She had enjoyed reminiscing about life and the village. Still, if it was that late she ought to hurry down the hill and get to bed soon. Her monthly cheque was due to arrive in the morning and she had planned to go to Durness. As she closed and locked the front door and turned to walk down the gravel path towards the big iron gates, she thought she saw a light flicker from one of the windows of the Old Manse. She looked again, it had stopped. Maybe it was her imagination, or, perhaps the Minister had just gone to bed and what she saw was a bedside light flickering. Anyway, the Manse was in darkness now; the light that had been shining earlier was now out. A few more steps and she was out of the gates walking down the hill to her own cottage. In another ten minutes she was outside the door of her own place and soon was inside the warmth of her small stone built cottage. She hung her coat on the hallstand, undid the hatpin holding her hat on, replaced the pin through her hat, and then hung it on the top peg of the stand. Checking her fire was in no danger of falling on the carpet, she went straight into her bedroom. Undressing took only a few more minutes and before 12-30am she was snuggled warm and cosy under her single electric blanket. She reached out, putting the bedside light out, then went to sleep.

****

By 3am each dinghy was securely tied up in Couri Bay. The men moved forward stealthily with a firm assuredness. They broke up into two’s entering the cottages of each of the villagers of Couri. Removing their guns from their belts they moved cautiously through each room in every cottage, systematically shooting small cylindrical darts into the necks of the sleeping occupants.

Mrs. Betty Dougal had a vague glimpse of a dark figure bending over her as she lay quietly under her single electric blanket. She stirred, sat bolt upright, only to fall back again as something stung her neck. The last thing she remembered was two strong arms picking her up then she lost consciousness. Within fifteen minutes the village was void of inhabitants. The twelve men slowly and deliberately carried each of the villagers down to the bay where they deposited them in the dinghies. Each dinghy had six bodies in them plus the man to watch over them. None of the bodies stirred as the dinghies pushed out from the Bay. When they had cleared the Bay, the small outboard motors were started up. By 3-30am the 12 dinghies were hovering over the position where they anticipated the return of the submarine. Almost as they arrived there was a splashing sound as the conning tower broke the surface. The long sleek body of the submarine emerged.

The conning tower opened and men came running to the side of the deck to help load the seemingly lifeless bodies onto the deck. With each body came a bundle of clothes, which had been carefully taken with each occupant of each cottage. The men waited till all the bodies had been taken aboard. Within minutes more people came out of the conning tower. Six at a time were lowered over the side into each dinghy. When they were full, each turned on their outboard motor and headed back to the Bay. The submarine waited on the surface this time. Before fifteen minutes had elapsed the dinghies had returned, this time with only the twelve men dressed in their black skin-type suits. They climbed aboard and pulled their dinghies up behind them. Each man deflated his dinghy. It was then rolled carefully together, passed up the conning tower, down into the submarine. Each man then ascended the small iron ladder at the side of the conning tower and descended into the depth of the submarine. The last man sealed the conning tower. The submarine began to move slowly along the surface of the water before sinking into the green depths of the Atlantic Ocean. As it slid below the surface, the periscope peeped up once more and pointed in the direction of Couri. From the window of the Old Manse a light was flashing on and off. The periscope appeared to linger momentarily before finally being drawn down under the surface for the final time. The waters churned white foam for a few brief moments then slowly settled back to their rhythmic lapping to and fro.

Chapter 1

The giant jumbo of British Airways circled several times over the great Metropolis of London patiently waiting its turn to land at Heathrow Airport. The queue was longer than normal but it gave the passengers a good aerial view of London on a clear summer’s day, such as this.

The flight from Nairobi had been a smooth and remarkably pleasant one for Kelly Ross. She looked out of the window