Free The Hijack by Duncan Falconer Page A

him if he didn’t go with the boat idea. The ambassador liked the waterborne option anyway since he happened to be an ex-Navy man and fancied stepping aboard a war ship once again after so many years. However, the four SAS men were officers and Stratton was only an SBS colour sergeant; diplomacy was required so as not to ruffle SAS feathers. As the ambassador fumbled through the pros and cons, racking his brains for a justifiable way out of the air option, Stratton had interrupted politely, informing them that recently the Algerians had acquired some Stingers - hand-held ground-to-air missiles - and that using aircraft to evacuate the area might not be a wise option.
    The SAS officers knew Stratton had outmanoeuvred them, and the ambassador was pleased with Stratton’s timely advice which gave him the room to close the matter.
    ‘How have you been?’ the ambassador asked Stratton, genuinely interested. He had never been impressed with rank alone and was far more inclined towards people of substance. Brigstock and Boyston were within earshot and horrified that the security man had a higher priority than them.
    ‘Fine, sir,’ Stratton said shaking his hand. He liked the old man who had filed a most complimentary report on his return to England about the SBS’s handling of the embassy situation.
    ‘You must say hello to Angela. She’s over there and would love to see you. You know she often mentions that time in the embassy, and not only her trees that you saved. You outflanked the SAS in one other area.You were the only military chap thoughtful enough to bring some English newspapers and tea.’ He laughed heartily bringing a broad grin to Stratton’s face. ‘So what are you doing here? Must be god-awful boring for the likes of you. What idiot put people of your calibre on duty at a garden party?’
    ‘We have to take the rough with the smooth, sir.’
    ‘Yes, I suppose so.’
    The ambassador caught his nephew hovering over his shoulder and reluctantly acknowledged his presence. ‘Brigstock.You met Stratton?’The old man didn’t want to share Stratton with his nephew but these parties were all about meeting people of influence.
    ‘’Em, not exactly sir,’ Brigstock stammered.
    ‘Special 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