Boat Service. One of the top operatives in the country, and that’s not just my opinion.’
Stratton ignored the two men who started to offer their hands but changed their minds when they realised they would not be taken. Brigstock’s girlfriend smiled at Stratton as if she had always been on his side.
Stratton’s phone vibrated in his pocket.‘Excuse me a moment, sir,’ he said as he took it out, checked the screen, pushed a button and put it to his ear. He heard a loud noise that sounded like interference. ‘Scouse.That you?’ he said loudly, trying to compensate for the noise.
‘Stratton,’ a voice shouted.
‘You in a chopper?’ Stratton asked.
‘Yes. Where are you?’
‘Lord Balmore’s estate. We’re covering a garden party.’
‘I know that. I’m towards your location. This isn’t a social call.’
Stratton then heard the throb of a helicopter and looked to the skies. It sounded like it was coming from the south but a wood bordering that side of the estate concealed anything flying low from view.
‘Get your arse into the open,’ Scouse shouted. ‘We’re coming to pick you up.’
‘What’s going on?’
‘Something big.’
The helicopter suddenly roared out from the tree-tops, right over the lawn, putting an abrupt halt to every conversation, and banked low over the estate. It was an SBS Super Lynx, a nine-seat jet assault helicopter.
‘Get yourself a marker,’ Scouse said.
‘I’m on it,’ Stratton said, then to the ambassador. ‘Gotta go, sir.’
‘Something come up?’
‘Looks like it,’ Stratton said.
‘That’s more like it, eh?’
Stratton scanned around for something bright and saw it draped over the shoulders of Brigstock’s girlfriend.
‘May I?’ he said to her as he took her pink jacket.
‘Oh. Yes . . . um . . .’
Then Stratton was off, jogging to a clear part of the lawn.
‘Look after yourself,’ the ambassador called out to him.
The man in the white suit stepped out of the building as Stratton went past. ‘I say. Where’s my Buck’s Fizz?’ he said, then noticed the circling helicopter. ‘Oh, my word.’
Stratton held the phone to his ear as he swung the pink coat around his head. ‘Scouse, I’m waving pink.’
‘Seen,’ Scouse replied, and the Lynx continued its spiral back to the lawn. It headed directly for Stratton rapidly losing height and then a few metres from him tipped its nose up to halt its forward movement, levelled out and dropped rapidly on to its trolley wheels as Stratton ran towards it. The marquee took a pounding from the rotors, as did the nearby guests, tables and ladies’ hats, which went flying.
The side door was already open and Stratton jumped in. The Lynx rose quickly, nose dipped dramatically, and accelerated forward and up, engines screaming and the blades carving hungrily into the air as it gained height. The pink jacket came flying out of the door and landed not far from the two officers. Brigstock’s girlfriend ran to pick it up and then waved farewell with it as the Lynx thundered over the house and was out of sight and sound in seconds.
Morgan and Smudge came running on to the lawn amid the whirling debris in time to see the helicopter go.
‘Lucky bastard,’ Morgan said looking thoroughly pissed off.
Scouse slid the door shut, closing out the wind and some of the noise, and Stratton regarded the five SBS operatives who shared the cab behind the cockpit. They were all dressed in black assault clothing, with bulging chest harnesses filled with various pieces of equipment and ordnance, leather gloves, helmets on laps, throat mics, MPK5 sub-machine guns and P226 semi-automatic pistols strapped to their thighs. Scouse, sat beside Stratton, slid a heavy-duty black holdall along the floor and dumped it on top of a large coil of heavy thick rope at Stratton’s feet, one end of which was shackled to a strong point in the ceiling near Stratton’s door.
‘Here’s your kit,’ Scouse shouted over the shrill of the engines.
Stratton took his jacket off and started pulling at his tie. ‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘Possible hijacked supertanker. Sometime before dawn. It’s way off course and doesn’t respond to any radio calls.The coastguard’s alongside but it’s too high for them to climb on deck. They have a chopper in the area but they’ve been told not to board her. The bad news is it’s heading for the coast at top speed, towards the Torquay area, and it’s full to the gunwales with oil.’
‘How long’ve we got?’
‘It’s gonna be tight. By the time we get there I reckon we’ll have about fifteen, twenty minutes to take it.’
‘Anything on the bad guys?’