The Belgravia Sanction: A Lambeth Group Thriller

By Gordon Bickerstaff

In a remote Scottish cottage, two men and two women die from gunshot wounds. Police believe one killed the other three before committing suicide.

One of the four worked undercover for the Lambeth Group, and his team leader is missing. To find out what happened, a second team will follow the bread crumbs.

Led by Zoe Tampsin, they expose a terrorist group operating in plain sight. An attack is imminent. It will destroy the special relationship between the UK and the USA.

Zoe and her team prepare to stop them. Unaware of a deep-seated traitor, determined to stop her at any cost.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gordon Bickerstaff
• Release date: Mar 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201767594

Gordon Bickerstaff

Gordon Bickerstaff was born and raised in Glasgow but spent his student years in Edinburgh. On summer vacations, he learned plumbing, garden maintenance, and he cut the grass in the Meadows. He learned some biochemistry and taught it for a while before he retired to write fiction. He does some aspects of DIY moderately well and other aspects not so well. He gets very tired when it's time to clean up the mess. He lives with his wife in the west of Scotland where corrupt academics, mystery, murder and intrigue exists mostly in his mind. He is the author of the Gavin Shawlens series of thrillers: Deadly Secrets, Everything To Lose, and The Black Fox. He enjoys walking, 60s & 70s music, reading and travel.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Bridge of Allan, Stirlingshire

Monday, 9th March, 09:47hrs

Waiting at his front door, David’s shaking hand wiped a stream of blood from his trembling lip as he doubted whether he would still be alive on Wednesday for his eighty-second birthday.

All his life, he loved the outdoors, and weather permitting, he tended the garden around his four-bedroom bungalow in a sleepy avenue on the edge of town. Like most of the bungalows in the avenue, he surrounded his property with a Leylandii hedge for privacy.

Comfortable with his age, he looked well, and took pride in his appearance. His beloved six-year-old ginger cat, Amber, enriched his life every day. For companionship, his wife bought Amber six weeks before she died of cervical cancer because their only daughter, nicknamed Teddy, had an important job in London, and could only visit two or three times a year.

Without warning, his life changed forever. Eight weeks ago, just after New Year when Teddy sacked his daily help, and replaced her with a new full-time, live-in carer, Monica. Without explanation, Monica transferred David’s medical care away from his local health centre to the company who sent her.

Within days of her arrival, Monica cancelled regular health checks, and organised his medication to arrive by mail. In phone calls to his barber, chiropodist, and others who supported his independence, she told them to keep away.

Waiting at his front door, David gripped the door handle to control his trembling hand, and desperately wanted to tell the postman about Monica. He ran his tongue over his lip to wipe the blood.

Monica squinted through the living room curtains. ‘He’s coming. Stay on the porch. You’ll say, good morning. Utter another fucking word, and I’ll slap your face again.’

David unlocked the door and returned his shaking hand to the handle.

Monica screeched, ‘If I’ve to drag you back indoors. You’ll get another slap. I’ll lock you in your fucking room. Hear me?’

Just before the doorbell rang, Monica noticed David’s cardigan on a chair. She darted across the living room, grabbed it, and threw it at him. ‘Cover up.’

The doorbell rang again as David pulled the cardigan over his short-sleeve shirt to cover the bruises down the side of his left arm. Amber ran to the door and stood beside him.

David opened the front door, and Amber trotted onto the porch. When he opened the glass-panelled porch door, Amber dashed past the postman into the garden.

‘Good morning.’

The postman said, ‘She’s in a hurry.’ Shifting his gaze back to David, he said, ‘Special delivery from your son.’

The postman stared at the grubby bandage on David’s right hand. ‘You should get your hand looked at, mate.’

David frowned. ‘Thank you,’ he replied. He took his mail and closed the porch door.

Monica closed the bungalow door, snatched the mail out of his hand, and slapped his face. ‘Fucking imbecile. Thought you’d show him your bruises.’ She pushed David out of her way. ‘No breakfast, and no food for the damn cat.’

The impact cricked David’s neck, and a trickle of blood paused at the bottom of his nostril. He wiped it with the back of his hand before it ran.

Monica checked the mail. A leaflet from a local takeaway, and a large envelope from Canada. She withdrew a birthday card and a photo from the envelope. ‘It’s from Toronto. More rubbish from your son and his pig family.’ Monica held the mail out of David’s reach. ‘Tell me where you hid the fucking ring.’

David rubbed his sore arm. ‘It was in my wife’s box. Someone stole it.’

Monica pointed her index finger at his face. ‘Watch your fucking mouth. You’re too old to remember anything. All the jewellery you say is missing; you fucking pawned them years ago.’ She tapped her knuckles on David’s head. ‘Get it into your thick skull, old man. No-one stole anything.’

Monica tore the card and photo into pieces and handed them to him.

Trembling, David held the pieces of card close to his heart. His eyes welled up. His face stung from the slap, and his heart sank. If only his son lived nearby. He would kick this evil woman out of his house and out of the village.

Monica bellowed. ‘Stop snivelling like a baby. I fucking hate it.’

She heard the postman’s comment and stormed through to the kitchen. ‘Come here, old man. Your bandage smells.’

He shuffled through, sat at the table, and his right hand trembled as she unrolled the old bandage. Neither of them could remember the last time she changed it. At least a week or more.

While she searched for another bandage, David examined his hand, and shuddered as he remembered the dreadful day, eight weeks ago, when they attacked him. It happened at the same table, and in the same chair.

The day after Monica arrived, two men entered the house. She introduced her husband Lukas, his friend Yevgeny, and told him they were visiting for the day. At first, they were friendly. They ate and drank while Monica entertained them.

Then Lukas received a phone call. He spoke in Russian to the caller, and when the call ended, his behaviour flipped. He became aggressive as he shouted orders to Yevgeny.

Lukas bellowed at David. ‘Your stupid daughter needs to be taught a lesson.’ He flicked his fingers, and Yevgeny dragged David to the kitchen. He forced David to sit at the table with his hands spread out. Lukas lit a kitchen blow torch and set a fine sharp flame.

The noise and smell of the torch alarmed David. It didn’t belong to him, and he feared what they might do to Amber.

Lukas said, ‘Your daughter is refusing to cooperate. Convince her.’

He handed his phone to Monica, and she stood back from the table to video David.

Yevgeny leaned over the old man and used his bulk to hold David’s hands palm down on the table. It wasn’t difficult.

Monica raised a thumb to confirm video was recording.

Lukas lifted David’s right hand and isolated the pinkie. ‘Tell her to cancel the meeting.’

‘Look at the phone,’ Monica shouted.

Confused and terrified, David lifted his head to peer at the phone. Panicking, he said, ‘I don’t know... what you want.’

Lukas shouted at the phone. ‘Cancel the meeting. Do it now!’

Yevgeny shouted in David’s ear, ‘Tell her to cancel the meeting.’

In a soft, frightened voice, David said, ‘Sweetheart. Do... what they want.’

Monica said, ‘Louder.’

David pleaded. ‘Please, Teddy, do it if you can.’

Lukas drew David’s pinkie between the blades of garden secateurs.

Shock gripped David’s face. ‘Please.’ He gasped for breath. ‘Teddy. Do what they want.’

Yevgeny shouted, ‘Cancel the meeting. You have thirty minutes.’

Monica ended the video and handed the camera to Yevgeny.

Lukas said, ‘Use the app to hide our faces before you send the clip to Goldface.’

‘Aggh!’ Monica complained. ‘Stupid old shit pissed his pants.’

Chapter 2

Over the following eight weeks, Monica changed his finger bandage only six times. Incredibly, his stump healed well despite minimal medical attention. She didn’t find a new bandage, and decided he didn’t need one. ‘It looks fine enough to me.’

Neither Teddy nor Monica explained why David was a prisoner in his own home. On each of the weekly calls he received from Teddy, he asked the same question. Each time she begged him to comply so she would stay safe.

The painful memory of losing his pinkie eased, and he asked, ‘It’s been two months. When will you leave?’

Monica smirked. ‘Your idiot daughter is dragging her heels. I’ll leave when she's finished.’

The doorbell rang again.

Monica rushed back to the window and peered through the curtains. A teenager in a school uniform standing at the porch. ‘It’s the fucking bitch from next door. I’ll deal with her.’

Monica pulled the bungalow door open, but didn’t open the porch door. She crossed her arms and her harsh eyes faced the girl.

‘Hello, I wonder if I can—’

Monica raised a stop hand. ‘I need nothing. To be honest. I’m pissed off with you coming to this door. I don’t need a stupid girl like you under my feet.’

‘I’m only—’

Monica waved her away. ‘Don’t come back.’

Amber arrived at the porch. On her hind legs, she pressed her front paws against the glass.

Monica scowled at the cat and slammed the bungalow door shut. Poking an accusing finger at David, she said, ‘Your neighbours are getting on my fucking nerves.’

He shook his head. ‘She means well. Ever since starting school, she’s run little errands for me.’

Monica flicked a thumb to the door. ‘If your stupid cat brings another mouse into the kitchen. I swear, I’ll stuff the fucking thing down its throat.’

‘Come here,’ she said, and pointed at a chair. ‘Ankle.’

David rested his foot onto the seat of the chair, and Monica fitted an ankle bracelet. It would raise an alarm on her phone if he strayed two metres from the house.

Monica pointed to her bedroom. ‘My bed won’t make itself. Before you start on that, make me a mug of coffee. If I enjoy the coffee, I’ll allow you half-an-hour in the garden.’

David turned to leave.

‘Wait. I’m finished with this box.’ Monica lifted a mahogany jewellery box from the sofa and handed it to him. ‘I don’t want it.’

David’s mother gifted the box to his wife, and she used it to store her most cherished mementos. Over fifty-two years of marriage, David bought his wife exquisite watches, rings, and costume jewellery for birthdays and special occasions.

In his room, he set the box on the dresser and sat on the stool. He stared at the heartbroken reflection in the mirror for a few moments before he lifted the lid. As he expected, the last three watches were missing.

Every day, Monica removed an item from the box to admire, but never returned it. When he asked about missing items, she told him he lost them in the garden.

He closed the lid and struggled with an expanding lump in his throat. He wanted to scream. Holding his breath, he pressed his stomach to keep quiet. He glanced back at the mirror before shifting his gaze to the silver frame holding a portrait photo of his late wife. A tear rolled down his cheek when he touched the glass.

He whispered, ‘I’ve hidden your wedding ring.’ He let out a guttural sigh. ‘Mary, I’ll die before I give her your ring.’ He shifted his gaze to a photo of the three of them standing in the garden with Teddy in the centre and her arms stretched out on their shoulders.

‘I still don’t know what kind of trouble Teddy got into, but I can’t take much more of this nightmare. I really can’t face it. Mary, what should I do?’

Amber slipped in through the open window, dropped onto the floor, and effortlessly leapt onto the dressing table. Sensing his distress, she brushed against his arm.

He ran his palm over her head and back, and in between sobs, he said, ‘Amber, I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

‘Meowl,’ Amber replied.

She jumped down and waited at the door.

He said, ‘I know you’re hungry. I’m sorry. I can’t do anything. They’ll hurt Teddy.’

‘Coffee,’ Monica bellowed from the living room.

With a surge of anger, David rose, wiped his face, and said to Amber, ‘That woman has pushed me over the edge.’

He opened his bedroom door, and using the wall for support because she hid his walking stick, he shuffled through to the living room.

Stretched out on the sofa, Monica said, ‘Get a move on, old man. I’m fucking waiting.’

David stood beside her and twisted his body to reach over to an occasional table for a 12-inch marble carving of a dolphin. His shaking hand grabbed the tail, and he swung the dolphin towards Monica’s head.

A mirror reflection on the opposite wall alerted her. She jerked her hand to catch the dolphin and twist it out of his grasp. ‘Old fucker,’ she screamed. Swinging her legs off the sofa, she rose and rammed the dolphin into David’s gut.

He doubled over and dropped to the floor in pain. The pointed nose on the dolphin pushed deep and almost pierced his skin.

Monica tossed the dolphin into the void behind the TV, returned to the sofa, and stretched out. ‘That’s it. I’ll phone Lukas. He’ll rape your bitch. And it’s your fault.’

From the floor, David pleaded. ‘No-no. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t. I’m begging. I’ll do everything you say. I’ll find my wife’s engagement ring.’

Silence for half a minute.

She smirked. ‘Bring me the diamond ring. I’ll spare your stupid bitch.’

With sharp pain coursing through his body, David climbed onto his knees. He rested against a chair for a minute before struggling to his feet.

‘Bring me the ring.’

Much of Monica’s aggression toward David stemmed from boredom and vodka. She didn’t read books, and stared at David’s TV for hours on end, not understanding British soaps or British humour.

Her ebullient character didn’t handle isolation well, and as the weeks turned over, she became more and more erratic. She drank a bottle of vodka every two days, and some days when her mood was foul, she could drink an entire bottle in an evening.

Reaching into her bag, she lifted a spectacle case and her phone. She opened the case and ran her thumb across the barrel of a syringe loaded with clear fluid before calling Lukas. They spoke in Russian.

While fidgeting with the spectacle case, Monica said, ‘Lukas. Eight weeks I’m stuck here. When does this shit finish? The smelly old turd has put me in a real foul mood.’

She glanced at a scratch on her wrist. ‘His damn cat attacked me again. I swear, I’ll—’

Lukas interrupted loudly. ‘Stop bitching. Goldface will say when we’re done.’

‘He could drop dead at any moment. Why don’t I just give him the injection? Pretend he’s still alive. No-one will know. I need out of this house.’

Lukas raised his voice. ‘Woman, are you crazy? Goldface is on the verge of stabbing the great Satan’s heart. The old man is a cog in the machine. If you do anything to set him back. He’ll cut out your brain and feed it to the dogs.’

She ditched the spectacle case and lowered her voice. ‘I haven’t been with you for five days. I miss you.’

He groaned. ‘I have work to do, here.’

Smiling at the wall, she spoke with a flirtatious voice. ‘My tall and hard, Cossack. You have work to do with me. My bed is cold. I need your hot arse to warm me.’

Dismissively, he said, ‘I’ll ask Goldface for time off. Maybe next weekend.’

She swung her legs off the sofa, sat straight, and thundered. ‘I swear, I’ll go crazy and kill the old man if you don’t come here and comfort me.’

Silence for almost a minute.

‘Lukas. I’ve done what you asked and stayed in this house. I want you here to please me.’

‘Ugh. I’ll drive over tonight.’

Her voice calmed, and her smile returned. ‘Bring vodka. I need sweets and DVDs.’

‘I can bring medovik, and bird’s nest cake, if there’s any left. I’ll bring season three of Ekaterina.’

‘Perfect. Now I feel better. Hurry, my strapping lion. I want to feel your hard—’

He shuddered and ended the call. In fact, they didn’t legally marry. Two years ago, they forged their papers to deceive UK immigration authorities, so they could pose as a married business couple, and provide cover for his work as a foreign intelligence operative.

Secretly, he hated her. For a start, he didn’t choose her. She latched on to him when he became Goldface’s right hand, and she wanted a share of his power. Worse in his eyes, she offered her favours too freely. Others wouldn’t mind, but he didn’t like his men mocking him, even though the marriage was a sham.

Tall, with broad shoulders and a tapered trunk; he looked athletic. He was a good-looking man with a bald head and oriental eyes, which gave him a Yul Brynner look.

An image of Monica filled his mind. With an apple-shaped body, weighing seventeen stone, her chin had a twin. Years ago, she abandoned any effort to make herself attractive and appealing. Sex is what they want; sex is what they get. Overnight, she ditched her self-respect and let herself go.

At first, Lukas filled his boots. Now, sex with her bored him beyond the pale. Like taking out the garbage during a heavy downpour. If he could choose, he would rather not get wet.

Chapter 3

Newton Mearns, Glasgow

19:11hrs

Captain Toni Bornadetti rushed from the kitchen to the living room to find her SEM phone. Waiting anxiously in an MI5 safe house, she expected a call, but not this one from Sergeant Maxine Sinclare (aka Rebel).

Toni raised a surprised voice. ‘Rebel, what’s wrong?’

A vexed voice replied, ‘Boss. This headcase is driving me off a cliff.’

Toni relaxed. ‘I told you what to expect when you requested secondment to the Lambeth Group. Civilian pointy heads need a light touch. Adapt to his eccentricity, and get the job done.’

Frustration edged her voice. ‘It’s like trying to start a car with a flat battery.’

Rebel and her covert unit (call sign Berberis) were operating in Edinburgh on an undercover mission, and the job wasn’t running as well as she hoped.

Rebel harboured misgivings about the Lambeth Group. A secret Home Office department, which brings academics and special forces operatives together to work undercover on specialist criminal and conspiracy investigations deemed too secret and too dangerous for the public judiciary system.

The Lambeth Group sent Berberis and Dr Phil Platt to snare an arms dealer selling illegal shoulder-held EM rifles. Platt posed as an expert evaluator for a prospective buyer for Berberis to spring the trap, and recover the rifles by force if necessary.

Toni sharpened her bossy voice. ‘Rebel. Put your personal baggage to one side. Focus on the job. Secure the damn weapons. If criminals use these rifles on the streets of London, the flack will burn the hair off your back.’

‘Understood,’ Rebel replied in a defeated voice.

Silence for half a minute

‘Look, Rebel. Take a step back. Figure it out.’

‘He won’t do what I tell him, and he whines like a baby. How do you get your civilian to obey orders?’

‘Don’t treat Platt like a soldier. He won’t take direct orders. It’s a science thing. He’ll question and analyse everything until it makes sense in his logic box. It’s your job to move him there, and make him comfortable.’

‘He shouldn’t be working in intelligence when he doesn’t have any.’

Toni smiled. ‘He has a PhD, so he thinks he knows what he’s doing. Don’t argue with him. Telling him he’s an idiot will cause instant deafness, and an idiotic stare. Try to treat him as an equal. Let him think he’s in charge, and you’re his backup.’

Too late, Rebel thought. ‘Boss, I’m not cut out for namby-pamby pissing around with intellectual types.’

Toni raised her voice a notch. ‘Yes, you are. If he was your squeeze, you’d lick him into shape double quick.’

‘Give me a dependable soldier any day.’

Maxine joined the army at eighteen when she emerged hardened and seasoned from the infamous Norris Green estate in Liverpool where crime, gangs, looting, and arson were rife.

Off duty, she's a gregarious and confident woman who loves karaoke, and is happiest when she’s giving a strong rendition of Sugar Sugar by the Archies. The most experienced member of the Berberis unit, Rebel had fourteen years under her belt.

An image of Rebel popped into Toni’s mind. A fiery redhead with shoulder-length hair, a sweary mouth, and a cynical expression reflecting hard and rebellious times in her youth.

In a subdued voice, Rebel said, ‘I’m sorry, boss; this will not pan out. Can you set this ficking twat straight?’

‘Rebel, you can handle him. I overcame the same issue with Harrier. I broke the ice by asking him lots of simple questions about his work. Get him talking. Make him think you’re impressed with his achievements. Look at his file. Everything you need is there. You can access his file via the management module in your SEM phone.’

Her voice picked up a beat. ‘I’m getting used to all the functions on this secure, encrypted mobile phone. Smart piece of kit.’

‘This is not a problem with you. We’re used to managing soldiers who do exactly what they’re told. Managing engineers is worse than herding cats. Fortunately for me, I learned from the best.’

‘Major Tampsin?’

‘When I worked with Zoe on Lambeth Group jobs, she had a biochemist called Gavin Shawlens. Believe me, he caused more grief than a firefight in Helmand. Zoe managed him and made him finish the job in difficult circumstances.’

‘I’m aware he’s credited with saving the country from disaster.’

‘What exactly is your problem with Platt?’

‘He doesn’t want to meet the dealer. He wants police armed units on the street, and beefy muscle men at his side.’

‘Have you told him you’ll keep him safe?’

‘No. He’s too stupid. He might compromise Holl and Skippy, and put the three of us in danger.’

‘So, he thinks he’s meeting the dealer on his own. He’s shit scared. You need to convince him Berberis will protect his arse if the dealer kicks off.’

‘Do I have to trust him?’

‘No, never. He must trust you. The civilians are untrained in covert operations, or any tradecraft. They make mistakes, foul up, get conned, and grab the hot end of the poker.’

Rebel sighed. ‘I shouldn’t have volunteered for this crap.’

‘Adapt. Forget about standard army training. Did you listen when McCain gave his briefing? There will never be another traditional war. The world has changed. Coming down the pipe is a major defence review. They will replace traditional army roles and equipment with IT, undercover, and cyberwarfare assets.’

‘I hear what you’re saying.’

‘Special forces are merging with intelligence and security. The threats to our society have changed. Soldiers need to deal with dangers that didn’t exist thirty years ago. The battlefield is not in a foreign country. It’s in our houses, under our noses.’

‘I remember what he said.’

‘The enemy is undermining our society. Stealing our technology and using it against us. This is our time. Women have the right skills to repel this type of threat. We need the pointy heads and their expertise at our side. Don’t let me down.’

‘I know. I’m just uncomfortable with this ficking... twat.’

‘Get over it. He has credibility. Doors open for him. Jobs end in a tenth of the time it would normally take for a covert investigation. Your dealer will have checked Platt’s engineering background before agreeing to meet. He’s a key. Use him to trap the dealer.’

Rebel sounded more willing. ‘The dealer did fire a pile of technical questions at Platt.’

‘My civilian, Martin Harrier, walked into a research job at the centre of my investigation because he has the right expertise. On my own, I couldn’t get close to the centre of the job.’

‘Okay. I know what I have to do.’

‘Think of Platt as a Javelin missile. You must understand everything there is to know about the weapon before they let you fire one. Platt is your new missile. Understand him, mollycoddle him if needed, wipe his backside if necessary, but make him work.’

‘Understood.’

‘One thing Zoe told me. Don’t let the civilian dwell on danger. In fact, never discuss risks. Civilians receive payment, but not in cash. The Lambeth Group support their personal research and development. It means they can walk away without notice. Shawlens walked out on Zoe, and I recall her saying it was devil work bringing him back to finish the job. Don’t scare the rabbit, or he’ll run to the hills.’

‘Easier said than done.’

Toni’s phone buzzed to show a second call. ‘I need to go. Harrier is calling me. Are you good?’

Confidence edged her voice. ‘Thanks for the chat. I’ll try again. Good luck at your end.’

Toni ended the call with Rebel and answered Martin Harrier’s call. This one she expected. During the afternoon, he called Toni to say his plan worked, and he expected results. His voice came through excited and nervy, while he explained what unfolded.

She asked, ‘You have physical evidence?’

‘We grabbed a set of samples.’

‘What we suspected?’

His voiced deepened with concern. ‘Much worse. This monstrosity can devastate an entire country for decades.’

‘Are you safe?’

Confidently, he replied, ‘Yes. We slipped away with no fuss. You need to collect the samples, and run them to Porton Down for verification. Call in the big guns to close this building down.’

‘You sound relieved.’

He drew in a deep breath. ‘I know Lambeth Group investigations are hush-hush, deniable, and never prosecuted, but I didn’t imagine how vital this work would be to keep the country safe. I’m immensely proud that I’m making a real difference.’

‘Well done, Martin. Sit tight. I’m on my way to the cottage.’

Chapter 4

When Rebel finished her call with Toni, she returned to the living room in the rented three apartment flat in Warrender Park Terrace, overlooking Brunsfield Links, Edinburgh. She could count on one hand the number of officers who earned her respect. Toni was one of them.

While she reflected on the conversation, an image of Toni settled in Rebel’s mind.

Toni Bornadetti was an attractive and rugged forty-year-old, who looked as fit and youthful as she did when she joined the army at eighteen. Toni wore her shoulder-length black hair tied in a knot at the back of her head. Muscular and sturdy, she stood straight at five-seven, and her Mediterranean skin retained a light tan.

Rebel likened her to Michelle Rodriguez, who plays Letty in the Fast and Furious films. Holly and Skippy associated her with Trudy Chacón, the combat pilot from the James Cameron film, Avatar.

In common with many soldiers who worked with Toni; Rebel, Skippy, and Holly, used the nickname, Hot Shot, when referring to Toni behind her back.

The conversation helped reset Rebel’s position. Earlier, she believed Berberis would do the heavy lifting, and the idiot civilian man would take the credit. Now, if the mission collapsed due to lack of trust, Berberis would catch the blame.

She stepped off on the wrong foot with Platt. A throwback from her time growing up on the estate, and an innate resistance to authority figures. She showed him tough eyes, intimidating posture, and her language reflected a hard attitude. Reinforced with a black leather jacket over a dark blue shirt, black cargo pants, and black, flat-heeled, boots.

On their first meeting, she told him academic qualifications didn’t impress her, and she wouldn’t tolerate highbrow attitude. Now, she understood.

The mission frightened Platt, and her attitude did more to scare him. In this state of mind, he could walk away from the mission.

Skippy asked, ‘What did Hot Shot say? Can we ditch the civilian and do this ourselves?’

Rebel shook her head. ‘We’re stuck with him.’

Skippy barked, ‘This mission is turning into a pig’s arse.’

Rebel faced her. ‘You criticising my leadership? Dip shite.’

Skippy yielded with raised surrender hands and folded lips. Days after joining Berberis, she learned not to argue with her. In fairness, Rebel was mostly a good boss, but light the blue touch paper on a bad day, and a screaming banshee jumps into your face.

‘Where is our wizard engineer?’

Skippy nodded to the kitchen. ‘Holl is keeping him amused.’

‘Bring the cash.’

Rebel marched into the kitchen. Skippy followed carrying a suitcase.

Dr Philip Platt and Holly (third member of Berberis unit) leaned against a worktop while she reassured him about the mission.

A mechanical engineer, Platt looked older than forty-three years, and his waist reflected a fondness for chocolate biscuits while sitting at his computer screen. He kept his receding, light-brown hair, short; though not his bushy eyebrows.

Rebel forced a smile. ‘Dr Platt. I’ve had time to look over your career. I’m astonished. I did not know you were such an accomplished electronics engineer. My apologies.’

She offered her hand to shake.

He stepped forward and tentatively shook her hand. ‘Thank you.’

Rebel continued. ‘When this is over, I’d love you to explain how the EM rifle generates its pulse. I’m fascinated with new weapons.’

‘If you’d like. I’d be happy to go through