Operative 66

Book 0: Alex Reeve

by Andy McDermott

Genres: Action & Adventure; Thrillers; Suspense

Synopsis

Former special ops soldier Alex Reeve is OPERATIVE 66.
One of the UK's deadliest weapons, he is part of the mysterious C6 - an elite and top-secret security service with a remit to neutralise the country's most dangerous enemies.

But now Reeve is in the firing line. Framed as a traitor, Reeve is forced to flee as every operative is instructed to kill the 'rogue asset'. On the run from his own government, alone and under the radar, Reeve must survive off grid with fearsome assassins on his trail.

He doesn't know why he's a target. Or who betrayed him. But if one man has the skills necessary to uncover the truth...it is Operative 66.

From the international bestseller comes an explosive, action-packed new thriller series - the perfect pulse-racing read for fans of LEE CHILD, DAVID BALDACCI and GREGG HUWITZ.

(P)2020 Headline Publishing Group Ltd

Release date: July 9, 2020

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 352

Sample

CHAPTER 1

Alex Reeve ran into the darkness, alone.

He darted across the derelict railway track. Beyond the line was rough woodland. Reeve hurried into the cover and crouched, listening.

Just the hiss of rain. He waited silently for a full minute. Still nothing. He surveyed the woods. No lights, no movement, no voices.

No enemies.

Reeve allowed himself to relax, fractionally, and took out a small red-lensed torch. Three rapid flashes back the way he had come. He had been the canary, testing security near the military base’s perimeter. If he’d been spotted crossing the railway, there would have been a response by now.

Three more figures scurried across the track. The glow spilling from the industrial buildings behind them highlighted their weapons. Like Reeve, all wore dark camouflage gear. Balaclava masks covered their heads, only eyes and mouths visible.

‘We all clear?’ asked the largest newcomer. His voice was echoed in Reeve’s radio earpiece; all had throat mics.

‘Wouldn’t have signalled otherwise,’ Reeve replied. The big man, Mark Stone, made a dismissive sound.

The smallest figure – a woman – gestured uphill. ‘Pylon’s up there.’ Deirdre Flynn’s accent immediately revealed her as Irish, despite her work to soften it. ‘Let’s go.’

Reeve led the way into the wood. After fifty metres, they reached a structure: an electricity pylon. ‘Flynn, can you climb it?’ asked the velvet-voiced Harrison Locke. The skeletal frame was bounded by barbed wire four metres up.

‘Give me a boost,’ Flynn replied.

She slung her AX308 sniper rifle. Reeve moved to act as sentry while Stone and Locke lifted her. Sharp snips from her wirecutters, and the obstruction was clear. Flynn clambered up to the first cross-beam. From there, she swung to a ladder and began a more rapid ascent.

Reeve was already continuing up the slope. ‘I’m going to the fence.’

He soon reached his first major obstacle. A chain-link fence three metres high marked the base’s outer boundary. He was near its corner. One leg headed west, the other south, parallel to the railway. The industrial lights revealed detail within the darkness. Concrete posts at regular intervals, razor wire topping the chain-link. A pole stood set back inside the corner.

His gaze went to its top. Cameras stared down at each leg of the fence.

A brief chill – had he been seen? But he was in cover, and unless the lenses were fish-eyed, out of frame. Were there any more?

He looked eastwards. Nothing but trees. The base’s perimeter was close to two miles around. In dense woodland, covering it completely would need hundreds of cameras, dozens of observers. Too expensive. He wouldn’t be spotted.

He hurried to the fence and lit his torch. The red beam both protected his night vision and was hard for cameras to pick up. He checked a post. If the fence were electrified, the wires would need insulators . . .

A small plastic peg jutted from the far side. He moved the torch. A fine, taut metal line ran between the posts.

A warning system. Low-powered, but contact would alert the base to an intruder.

Reeve was prepared, though. He took out a pair of insulated crocodile clips connected by a coiled wire. Next came wirecutters. He began to snip through the chain-link.

Flynn’s voice crackled in his earpiece. ‘I’m in position. I can see most of the base.’ Reeve didn’t respond to her. If she had anything to report, she would do so—

‘What can you see?’ demanded Stone, East End accent strong.

‘No immediate threats.’ Flynn’s faint impatience quickly vanished, replaced by crisp professionalism. ‘The main complex looks quiet – the rain’s keeping everyone indoors.’

Reeve’s cutters severed the lowest link, and he carefully peeled the fence open. ‘What about patrols? Dogs?’ Stone asked.

‘I see torches to the west,’ Flynn reported. ‘In the open, near the witch’s house.’ The team had used commercial aerial and satellite imagery to map the facility. Various structures had been given nicknames; this was a red-brick building in a clearing.

‘Coming our way?’ Locke asked.

‘Yes, but not fast. Looks like a routine patrol.’

‘Fucking great,’ muttered Stone. ‘Reeve, you hear that?’

‘Yeah,’ Reeve replied. He carefully attached the clips to the electrified wire. Another snip, and the alarm was severed. No distant sirens, no floodlights flaring to life. He laid the connected cable flat on the ground. The gap was now clear to traverse. ‘I’m through. Going in.’

He manoeuvred his silenced UMP-9 submachine gun through the hole. Then, with infinite care, he brought himself after it.

He cleared the severed wire’s ends by several inches. Collecting his gun, he stood and surveyed the slope above. The only thing moving was the rain.

‘In and clear,’ he reported as he set off. ‘Taking the east side.’

‘Roger that,’ Locke replied. ‘We’re coming to the fence.’

A new voice through Reeve’s earpiece. ‘We’re almost there,’ came the clipped tones of John Blake. He and the last team member, Craig Parker, were in a car. They were using deception rather than stealth to enter the base.

‘Flynn, can you see ’em?’ asked Stone.

‘Not yet,’ she replied. ‘The road’s behind trees.’

‘We’ll be there in one minute,’ Blake said. ‘Cover us, won’t you?’

Flynn didn’t reply, but Reeve knew her rifle would already be raised and ready. Her overwatch position covered most of the base, including the main gate. If Blake’s bluff was called, she could snipe the guards to aid his escape.

Reeve moved on. Lights became visible through the trees ahead. He was nearing the facility’s northern outbuildings. He consulted a map; in his memory, not on paper. Another fence ahead, but merely to separate structures from woodland. It ended sixty metres to his right. He angled towards the opening.

‘We’re turning on to the entrance road,’ said Blake.

‘I see you,’ Flynn responded. ‘Got you covered.’

‘Gate guard’s coming to meet us. Going silent until we’re inside.’

‘Or we have to run,’ added Parker, with wry humour. Like Reeve, a hint of his natural northern accent remained, though Liverpudlian rather than Mancunian. The vocal training to anonymise the team members could only go so far.

Reeve halted. If things went wrong, he might need to abort the mission. A glance back to check his escape route. It was clear. He looked ahead again. About thirty metres to the fence’s end—

Someone came around it.

Two men, glistening wet ponchos over camouflage gear. Both carried assault rifles. A patrol.

Coming towards him.

CHAPTER 2

Flynn stared unblinkingly through her rifle’s scope. From high on the pylon, the main gate was just visible over a rooftop. Blake and Parker’s car slowed as it approached the barrier. A man emerged from the guard hut. Another stood inside its doorway, reluctant to step into the rain.

She shifted the crosshairs between them. The man outside was fully exposed. An easy target even from this range. His companion, though . . .

Tricky. But she could do it. Her sharpshooting skill was one reason she had been recruited. The first sign of alarm, and both men would be down. Two seconds was all she needed—

A voice in her earpiece. Reeve. She instantly knew his situation had changed: he wasn’t one for chit-chat. ‘Another patrol coming out of the east ingress,’ he said. ‘Thirty metres away. I’m taking cover.’

Flynn muttered a silent curse. The car stopped, the guard walking to the driver’s side. One hand was near his holstered sidearm; the visitors were unexpected. Her crosshairs tracked him. ‘Reeve, do you need help?’ She could target the patrol – if she abandoned her overwatch of Blake and Parker.

‘No.’ Certainty in the curt reply.

His decision. Her attention returned to the guard. The car’s window wound down to reveal Parker at the wheel. Passes were presented, Parker indicating his companion. The guard shone a torch, reacting to their rank insignia. Parker wore a lieutenant’s uniform; Blake a colonel’s.

The guard became visibly more deferential. But their arrival was still unscheduled. He called to the man in the hut, who retreated inside. Flynn tensed. Target lost—

Blake, his torchlit face a half-moon behind the windscreen, spoke. His expression didn’t convey fear or blustering anger; rather, patronising impatience. A senior officer’s attitude, which, considering his past career, was no act. Flynn could guess what he was saying. First would be a pointed reminder of his rank. Then annoyance at being held up after a long journey. What do you mean, you weren’t expecting me? I want to talk to the watch officer. No, do you really want to drag him out in the rain? I’ll see him myself.

The guard was torn between following procedures and obeying a superior officer. He called out again to the other guard, who reappeared. Flynn’s sights found him once more. If they were going to challenge the intruders, it would be now . . .

One final exchange – and the second guard shrugged. Your call. He went back into the hut to use the telephone. The first man spoke to the car’s occupants, then withdrew. The gate rose. Parker’s window closed, and the car drove into the base.

‘We’re in,’ Blake said a moment later.

Flynn had already turned to find new targets. It took her only a second to spot lights moving away from the east ingress . . .

Two men, already partially obscured by tree cover as they walked into the woods.

Heading for Reeve.

Reeve watched the men approach through leaves. He was three metres off the ground, left arm hooked over a branch. Both feet were wedged against the tree’s trunk, holding him practically horizontal.

He hadn’t been seen. There was no urgency or alarm in the men’s movements. It was a routine patrol . . . which by sheer bad luck was coming straight towards him.

The bough would obscure him until they were a few metres away. Even then, he could be missed. The rain would subconsciously deter them from looking up. They might walk right under him without noticing.

If they did notice . . .

His UMP was still in his right hand, held against the branch. Both for concealment – and instant accessibility. He could eliminate both men in a moment.

But only if he had to. Some team members would already have shot them without a qualm – Stone, certainly. Probably Locke and Blake as well. To Reeve, though, that felt . . . sloppy. He had a specific target; he would eliminate that target. Anyone else would come into his sights only if they posed a threat.

But the threat posed by the two approaching men was rising.

Torch beams swept lazily over the wet ground. One man spoke, the other responding in amused agreement. Only three metres away now. If either looked up, they would see him.

Dull footsteps grew louder. One metre – then their heads passed an arm’s reach below—

They walked on.

Reeve remained still. He would wait until they were at least thirty metres clear before moving—

A sharp thwack echoed through the trees.

One man jerked in pain as something hit him. His companion exclaimed in surprise—

Reeve had already reacted to the bullet’s impact, whipping his gun around. Even firing one-handed from an awkward position, at this range he couldn’t miss. The suppressor reduced each of his six shots to a muffled thud. Three rounds into each man’s back, and both fell.

He dropped from the tree. ‘Flynn,’ he growled. ‘I told you I didn’t need help.’

‘I was covering your arse,’ came the reply. ‘They were going to find you.’

He quickly checked the two figures. ‘They’d already gone past. But now they’re both dead, and sooner or later someone’ll realise they’re missing.’

‘So just speed things up,’ cut in Stone.

‘Which means more chance of making mistakes.’

Before the Londoner could reply, Blake cut in. ‘We’re at the administration building. Going inside.’

‘Better get your backside in gear, Reeve,’ said Stone. Annoyed, Reeve resumed his journey, moving more quickly.

He soon reached the fence’s end. Beyond was an expanse of wet tarmac between large warehouse-like buildings. Shipping containers and a few vehicles were dotted around. Nobody was in sight.

‘I’m at the east ingress,’ he whispered. ‘Starting the search.’

He moved through the yard. More buildings came into view, vans parked at unlit loading docks. Still no activity. He crouched behind a forklift. His target was somewhere on the base. But where?

It was unlikely to be here. All the nearby structures were logistical in nature. Few had interior lights on. Another check of his mental map. What had looked on aerial imagery like operations buildings were to the south. Sticking to the shadows, he headed in that direction.

Stone and Locke passed a firing range in the woods and continued south-west. ‘There’s the assault course,’ said Locke, crouching amongst bushes. Beyond an access road were several prefabricated buildings and Portakabins. Between them was the physical training facility; a useful landmark.

‘Not as fancy as ours,’ Stone noted with faint amusement. ‘Okay, the main buildings are on the far side. Let’s find our man and pop him—’

Locke let out a sharp hiss: quiet. He dropped lower. Stone swore and followed suit.

A two-man patrol walked along the road towards them. ‘Must be the ones Flynn saw,’ Locke whispered.

‘I thought they were down by the witch’s house,’ growled Stone. ‘Deirdre, you fucking bog-ape, you’re supposed to be keeping watch.’

‘I don’t have fucking X-ray vision,’ came Flynn’s irate reply. ‘They went into the woods while I was watching the main gate. Oh, and Stone? Fuck you.’

‘Yeah, dream on.’

‘Shut up,’ hissed Locke. Stone gave him a dirty look, but fell silent.

The patrol ambled along, torch beams sweeping with disinterest over the roadside. One brushed Locke, but with his form broken by camo and shadows, he went unnoticed. Then they passed, continuing eastwards.

A wordless look between Locke and Stone . . . and they rose.

The big Londoner brought up his submachine gun. Locke, however, drew a matt-black carbon-fibre combat knife. He cleared the bushes and advanced cat-like for several steps – then rushed.

One man heard his footsteps and turned. Red flowers burst open across his chest as Stone fired. Locke was on his companion before he could react. The knife sliced through the air to find his throat.

Stone jogged up beside Locke. ‘You’re dead, arseholes,’ he told the fallen figures, before addressing the other man. ‘Why didn’t you just shoot ’em? Would have been safer.’

Locke returned his blade to its sheath. ‘I like to keep my surgical skills honed.’ There was no humour in his voice. Stone let out a faintly unsettled half-laugh. They dragged the men into the bushes, then continued into the main complex.

CHAPTER 3

Flynn watched Stone and Locke disappear behind a building through her scope. ‘Christ,’ she whispered. She had shot the patrol to protect Reeve, but this? They had acted purely for their own enjoyment.

But what was done, was done. ‘Locke, Stone, I’ve lost line of sight.’ She could no longer provide cover. ‘I’m coming down. Reeve, I’ll catch up.’

Reeve’s acknowledgement was terse. She started back down the ladder.

Parker stopped outside a modern block at the heart of the base. ‘Looks like someone’s waiting for us.’ A figure was silhouetted behind glass doors. ‘Think you can fool them?’

‘Of course,’ Blake replied. ‘It helps when you know the lingo.’ Parker began to get out, giving him a quizzical glance when he didn’t move. ‘Play the part, remember? I’m the colonel, you’re the lieutenant. Now, hold my umbrella. I don’t want to get wet.’

‘Posh bastard,’ Parker growled under his breath. He rounded the car and raised an umbrella before opening the door for Blake. The taller man stepped out beneath the cover. He made a show of straightening his uniform, then started for the entrance. Parker flanked him, keeping him dry.

The waiting man was the watch officer, a youthful captain. He greeted Blake with a salute, but remained wary. ‘We weren’t expecting you, sir,’ he said, after brief introductions.

‘You should have had the notification this morning,’ Blake snapped. ‘Where’s your office? I’ve had a long and tedious drive, I need a coffee.’

‘This way, sir.’ The captain led the way. ‘In here.’

Two junior non-commissioned officers were inside, both rising as they saw Blake’s uniform. He acknowledged them, then surveyed the room. An administrative office, which in daytime would house nine or ten staff. ‘Are you the entire night shift?’

‘Yes, sir,’ said the captain. He went to a coffee pot. ‘If I may ask, sir – why are you here?’

‘It’s about your VIP guest,’ Blake replied.

The other men seemed confused, apparently out of the loop. The captain, though, nodded. ‘Ah, I see. You’re here to meet him?’

‘In a way.’ Blake glanced at Parker. ‘We’re here to kill him.’ They both drew suppressed handguns.

The three men stared at the weapons in bewilderment. One of the juniors let out a nervous involuntary giggle. ‘I assure you, we’re quite serious,’ Blake said, before his voice rose to a bark. ‘Now get up. Into the corner. Move!’

‘Ah – do as he says,’ the captain told the other two uncertainly. They backed away, Blake advancing to cover them.

Parker went to one of their computers. ‘Still logged in. That makes things easier.’ He sat and produced a USB drive, plugging it in.

‘What are you doing?’ the captain demanded.

‘Quiet,’ snapped Blake. ‘Well? Can you get in?’

Parker ignored him. The USB mounted, and he double-clicked on a file. He waited for a program to run – then pushed a button on the flash drive. A window appeared. ‘I’m in. Got access to the base’s network.’

Locke’s voice buzzed in his earpiece. ‘You bypassed the security?’

‘Yeah. Now, wait.’ Parker typed rapid commands. A list of numbers scrolled up the screen. ‘We know his laptop’s MAC address. I’m checking if it’s on the system. If he logged in, I’ll know where he was. If he’s still logged in, I’ll know where he is.’

‘To the building?’ asked Blake.

‘To the room.’

‘How long will it take?’

‘Couple of minutes.’

Blake gave his prisoners a mocking smile. ‘I should have let you make me that coffee.’

Reeve ducked around a corner as a van approached. It stopped near a loading bay. Nobody got out, but he saw a pale light in the cab. The driver was making a phone call. Needing to continue unseen, Reeve continued behind the building. The perimeter fence stood before him, running parallel to the railway line.

‘Reeve, I’m through the fence.’ Flynn. ‘Where are you?’

‘Behind a pale green prefab on the east perimeter,’ he answered, slipping southwards. ‘There’s a guy in a van outside the front.’

‘Wait for me. I’ll be with you in three minutes.’

Reeve frowned in impatience. ‘We still need to search for the target.’

‘Parker’s on it. He’ll tell us where to look.’

‘And what if he can’t find him?’

Flynn made a sound of annoyance. ‘Just wait for me, for Christ’s sake.’

Reeve reached the building’s far end. A large, blank-walled structure rose ahead, crates and pallets piled outside. Head around it towards the base’s centre, or keep following the perimeter?

He chose the former. The target was more likely to be near the heart of things. He moved along the green building’s side to check the roadway beyond. The van was still stationary, lights on. Staying in the shadows, he scurried to the larger structure and surveyed what lay beyond.

More industrial-looking buildings, trees, a couple of parked trucks. A car drove along a road sixty metres distant, but soon passed from sight.

Nowhere that seemed an obvious place to find his target. Maybe he should see if Parker could locate him after all . . .

He was about to withdraw when he heard something. Distant, the wind carrying the sound.

A helicopter.

Civilian aircraft would generally avoid flying in these conditions. So it was probably military. And he was in a military facility.

The team’s objective was to eliminate the target before he left the base. They had expected him to depart by road. But if he left by air . . .

The faint rhythmic thudding reached him again. Still some distance away – but now fractionally louder.

He was about to warn the others when Parker spoke first.

‘I’ve got him,’ Parker crowed. ‘He’s logged into the base network a few times. Last time was . . . less than ten minutes ago.’

‘Where?’ asked Blake, eyes not leaving his three prisoners.

‘The communications centre. Near that big open field.’

‘He’s leaving in a chopper,’ Reeve cut in urgently. ‘I just heard one. I think it’s coming in.’

‘There’s an airport ten miles away,’ objected Stone. ‘It could be going there.’

‘You want to risk it?’

‘Reeve’s right,’ said Blake. ‘It’d be just like that bastard to sneak out under our noses. Everyone head for the field – it’s got to be the landing zone.’

Stone was still argumentative. ‘Who fucking put you in charge?’

‘Would you rather keep playing hide and seek in the rain?’ suggested Locke. ‘We’re on the way.’

‘Parker, let’s go,’ Blake ordered. Parker retrieved the USB drive and stood.

The captain watched as he headed for the exit. ‘What about us?’

‘I’m afraid,’ Blake told him mildly, ‘you failed your security test.’

His gun thumped three times.

Parker regarded the aftermath. ‘Bit harsh. They were just doing their jobs.’

Blake smiled. ‘Did you want to waste time finding rope to tie them up?’ He followed Parker to the door. ‘We’d better get moving. We have a flight to catch.’

Flynn followed Reeve’s route into the main complex. She stopped at a corner. The van Reeve had mentioned waited ahead, headlights reflecting off wet tarmac.

If she crossed in front of it, she would be seen. She backtracked. The helicopter’s clatter was now discernible above the rain. Coming closer.

She returned to the east ingress. On entering she had gone left; now she went right. A long rank of parked military trucks greeted her. She hurried past them and peered out from behind a building.

There was the green prefab. She went to the next corner, checking the loading bays beyond. The van was still stationary, but now she could pass it unseen. ‘Reeve, I’m almost with you,’ she said, as she crossed the open yard.

‘I’ve already gone,’ came the reply. ‘I’m heading for the field.’

She stopped, hesitating before turning back. ‘I told you to wait for—’

‘Hey! You! Halt!’

Two burly men were approaching from the south, fifty metres away. Both were armed, rifles snapping up. One broke into a run as the other crouched to target her. ‘Drop your weapon!’ the latter yelled.

She couldn’t reach cover before being shot. And if she fired on one man, the other would get her. ‘Reeve, I need help,’ she hissed.

Reeve was cutting through a darkened parking lot when he heard Flynn’s plea. He ducked between two trucks, considering his options. She was at least a hundred metres back. ‘How many men?’

‘Two. One’s running right at me.’

His decision was instant. ‘I can’t help you.’

‘What? You bastard, we’re supposed to—’

She stopped talking, instead pulling her rifle’s trigger. A man’s muted cry – then Flynn herself gasped in pain. A thump as she fell to the road’s hard surface. ‘Jesus, fuck!’ she moaned, another man shouting in the background . . .

Then nothing.

‘Shit,’ Reeve muttered. But there was no way he could have reached her in time to intervene.

And the mission always took priority. Every team member knew that. Including Flynn.

He moved again. The alarm would be raised at any moment. The helicopter was now clearly audible.

His target was about to escape.

The thought spurred him on even faster between the darkened buildings.

CHAPTER 4

‘Shit, Reeve was right,’ said Stone, as he heard the incoming helicopter. ‘How far to the field?’

‘Two hundred metres,’ said Locke. ‘Across the main road.’ The base’s centre was bisected by a two-lane roadway.

‘Past all the buildings with fucking lights on, you mean.’ Beyond the road were numerous blocks of living quarters.

‘Down the back, through the trees.’ Locke led the way, sprinting across the road. Stone followed—

Alarm bells rang, followed by an urgent, raucous klaxon. ‘Balls,’ spat Stone. ‘Flynn, you stupid Mick bitch! They know we’re here.’

He raced after Locke as floodlights burst to life around the base.

Blake and Parker ran from the administration building. The dark expanse of the field was off to their right. They hurried towards it.

‘There!’ Blake shouted. The helicopter was coming in from the south, descending quickly. He followed its track, predicting where it was going to land. The field’s northern edge. ‘Move it.’

Headlights appeared, a car coming between two accommodation blocks. ‘Must be him,’ said Parker.

The aircraft dropped heavily on to the grass. The car stopped. A figure ran from it towards the helicopter.

Parker raised his gun, but the man was already shielded by the fuselage. ‘I don’t have an angle.’

Stone and Locke raced around the accommodation blocks to the field. The helicopter, rotors whirling just below take-off speed, was ahead. A cabin door slammed shut.

Locke sent three rapid shots at the fuselage. All hit the side window. Stone, however, fired on full-auto – at the cockpit. The curved windshield erupted with bullet impacts.

A pause – then the shrill of the engines dropped. The rotors began to wind down.

Stone gave his companion a triumphant grin. ‘If you can’t hit the passenger, hit the driver.’

‘We still need to hit the passenger, though,’ Locke pointed out. Someone scrambled from the aircraft’s far side.

‘I see him,’ Blake reported over the radio. ‘Firing – damn it!’ The car surged forward, skidding around to shield the running figure. The man ducked behind it and leapt inside.

Stone and Locke fired again, but the car set off despite taking multiple hits. It fishtailed on the wet ground before powering back the way it had come.

‘Come on!’ Locke barked. ‘We might intercept him on the main road.’

‘We’ll go after him in the car,’ said Blake.

Locke and Stone reversed course. The alarm was already drawing a response. Several uniformed men emerged from a building to the west. More would follow.

They passed the nearest block, crossing a secondary road. Stone looked along it in case the target was coming their way.

Instead, he saw rapidly retreating red tail lights.

‘Target going east,’ he reported. ‘He’s getting away.’

Blake and Parker reached their car. ‘I’ll drive,’ snapped the former. He set off before Parker had closed his door.

He reversed at speed, whipping the wheel around hard. The car skidded into a J-turn, coming completely about. Blake controlled it with practised ease and powered from the car park.

Parker wound down his window and readied his gun. ‘Where is he?’

‘Should be coming from the left – shit!’ A van rushed out of a side road ahead – from the right. Blake swerved to avoid a collision as it tried to block them.

More lights flared in the rear-view mirror. No sign of their target’s vehicle. ‘The situation’s getting rather dicey,’ he said. ‘If we don’t take him right now, we’ll need to bail out.’

Parker squinted into the blowing rain. ‘Still can’t see him.’

Blake glanced at the mirror again. The headlights were in pursuit, coming fast. ‘Stone, Locke, I’m coming along the main road,’ he said, accelerating. ‘The mission’s blown – time to leave.’

The escaping car was still nowhere in sight. ‘Fuck!’ Parker snarled. ‘Where the hell’s Reeve?’

Reeve had run behind several buildings. He emerged just in time to see Blake and Parker’s car shoot past. Two more cars and a van raced after it.

He stayed in the shadows. Where was the target? If he had gone east from the accommodation blocks, he should be in sight . . .

Headlights came on across the road.

Reeve felt the thrill of discovery. The target’s car had pulled in behind the last block and switched off its lights. Its occupants had gambled on the attackers assuming they were fleeing through the base. Instead they had hidden, waiting for the military forces to drive the intruders away.

A good gamble. But one they had lost.

The car started towards the road. No rush. They thought they were safe. Reeve waited until it reached the junction – then ran out into the open.

The driver saw him. The car accelerated, turning hard on to the wet road. Reeve brought up his UMP and fired. Shots burst across the windscreen. The car charged on for a few seconds – then it veered across the road on to a lawn. It slewed around, right side facing him, and stopped.

Reeve raced after it. Movement in the car’s rear. He ducked, angling to go behind the stationary vehicle rather than straight to it.

Gun raised, he scurried to the left-rear door – and threw it open.

The interior light came