knowing that we had been sent to kill you. Why would you do this?’
Schofield said simply, ‘I’m facing an almost impossible task here, something much bigger than your country’s vendetta against me. I figured if I rescued you and you were someone who would stop and listen for a moment, you might help me on my mission. You just lost an entire submarine and I need as many soldiers as I can get. I took the risk that you might hear me out.’
Champion didn’t move.
Her gun stayed level.
Then, very slowly, she lowered it.
‘All right, Captain. I’m listening . . . for now. But know this: if we choose to help you and we emerge from this alive, the old score must be settled.’ She waved at her men. ‘This is Master Sergeant Huguenot and Sergeant Dubois. Now, tell us what is going on.’
Schofield quickly told Champion and her men what he knew about the situation at Dragon Island, the Army of Thieves, and the atmospheric weapon they had initiated. It was, he added, the Army of Thieves that had destroyed her submarine when the French had inadvertently intruded upon their skirmish.
Schofield took the wristguard from Zack and used it to show Champion the video clip of the leader of the Army of Thieves addressing the Russian President. While he did this, Mother sidled up to the big French commando.
‘Hey,’ she said.
‘’Allo.’
‘Nice gun. A Kord.’
‘Merci beaucoup,’ he said with a quick nod. He glanced at her rifle. ‘G36. A fine weapon, too.’
Mother extended her hand. ‘Gunnery Sergeant Gena Newman, USMC, but everyone calls me Mother.’
‘I am Master Sergeant Jean-Claude François Michel Huguenot, on secondment to the DGSE from the First Parachute Regiment. I am known as Le Barbarian .’
With his shaggy hair and beard, Mother could see why. ‘Barbarian. Nice.’
‘Trust me, it is a title well earned. I eat like a bear, drink like a Viking, kill like a lion and make love like a silverback gorilla! Bah! My friends call me Baba and I have just decided that you , Gunnery Sergeant Mother Newman, with your impressive G36, may call me Baba.’
Mother eyed him sideways. Who was this guy? With his big physique, big gun, big hair, big beard and big mouth, he was—
‘Oh, God. You’re my mirror,’ she said aloud.
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’
Fortunately, at that moment she heard the French woman mention the Army of Thieves and she and Baba joined that conversation.
‘The Army of Thieves . . .’ Veronique Champion said, having just finished watching the mpeg of its leader addressing the Russian President.
‘You’ve heard of them?’ Schofield said.
‘The tracking of terrorist organisations is not the primary occupation of my division within the DGSE but, yes, I have been to briefings in recent months where this organisation has been mentioned.’
‘And?’
Champion said, ‘DGSE has been monitoring a series of incidents perpetrated by this group over the last year, one incident per month, in accordance with a crude pattern. The CIA and the DIA know all this.’
‘We were sent this summary.’ Schofield showed Champion the DIA report by the agent named Retter on the wristguard’s screen. She scanned it quickly.
‘I have seen a similar report.’
‘So who are they and why are they doing this?’
‘Who are they?’ Champion shrugged. ‘A new terrorist group? A franchise of al-Qaeda? A renegade army with no allegiance to any nation? No-one knows.’
‘What about their leader? The guy who taunted the Russian President? Any idea who he is?’
‘The man who leads them is unknown to us. In the few pieces of CCTV footage that exist of the Army’s actions, he always wears large sunglasses plus a hood or helmet of some sort to conceal his identity. But he makes no effort to hide the acid scars on the left side of his face: the DGSE searched every military database we have for soldiers or specialists with such a distinctive facial feature but found nothing.
‘Having said that,
Schofield said simply, ‘I’m facing an almost impossible task here, something much bigger than your country’s vendetta against me. I figured if I rescued you and you were someone who would stop and listen for a moment, you might help me on my mission. You just lost an entire submarine and I need as many soldiers as I can get. I took the risk that you might hear me out.’
Champion didn’t move.
Her gun stayed level.
Then, very slowly, she lowered it.
‘All right, Captain. I’m listening . . . for now. But know this: if we choose to help you and we emerge from this alive, the old score must be settled.’ She waved at her men. ‘This is Master Sergeant Huguenot and Sergeant Dubois. Now, tell us what is going on.’
Schofield quickly told Champion and her men what he knew about the situation at Dragon Island, the Army of Thieves, and the atmospheric weapon they had initiated. It was, he added, the Army of Thieves that had destroyed her submarine when the French had inadvertently intruded upon their skirmish.
Schofield took the wristguard from Zack and used it to show Champion the video clip of the leader of the Army of Thieves addressing the Russian President. While he did this, Mother sidled up to the big French commando.
‘Hey,’ she said.
‘’Allo.’
‘Nice gun. A Kord.’
‘Merci beaucoup,’ he said with a quick nod. He glanced at her rifle. ‘G36. A fine weapon, too.’
Mother extended her hand. ‘Gunnery Sergeant Gena Newman, USMC, but everyone calls me Mother.’
‘I am Master Sergeant Jean-Claude François Michel Huguenot, on secondment to the DGSE from the First Parachute Regiment. I am known as Le Barbarian .’
With his shaggy hair and beard, Mother could see why. ‘Barbarian. Nice.’
‘Trust me, it is a title well earned. I eat like a bear, drink like a Viking, kill like a lion and make love like a silverback gorilla! Bah! My friends call me Baba and I have just decided that you , Gunnery Sergeant Mother Newman, with your impressive G36, may call me Baba.’
Mother eyed him sideways. Who was this guy? With his big physique, big gun, big hair, big beard and big mouth, he was—
‘Oh, God. You’re my mirror,’ she said aloud.
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’
Fortunately, at that moment she heard the French woman mention the Army of Thieves and she and Baba joined that conversation.
‘The Army of Thieves . . .’ Veronique Champion said, having just finished watching the mpeg of its leader addressing the Russian President.
‘You’ve heard of them?’ Schofield said.
‘The tracking of terrorist organisations is not the primary occupation of my division within the DGSE but, yes, I have been to briefings in recent months where this organisation has been mentioned.’
‘And?’
Champion said, ‘DGSE has been monitoring a series of incidents perpetrated by this group over the last year, one incident per month, in accordance with a crude pattern. The CIA and the DIA know all this.’
‘We were sent this summary.’ Schofield showed Champion the DIA report by the agent named Retter on the wristguard’s screen. She scanned it quickly.
‘I have seen a similar report.’
‘So who are they and why are they doing this?’
‘Who are they?’ Champion shrugged. ‘A new terrorist group? A franchise of al-Qaeda? A renegade army with no allegiance to any nation? No-one knows.’
‘What about their leader? The guy who taunted the Russian President? Any idea who he is?’
‘The man who leads them is unknown to us. In the few pieces of CCTV footage that exist of the Army’s actions, he always wears large sunglasses plus a hood or helmet of some sort to conceal his identity. But he makes no effort to hide the acid scars on the left side of his face: the DGSE searched every military database we have for soldiers or specialists with such a distinctive facial feature but found nothing.
‘Having said that,
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