Free Nucflash by Keith Douglass Page A

back and forth. Roselli heard one young man mutter darkly about a “bloody cock-up.”
    â€œIn any case, we have them now. We suspect that this flat in Middlebrough is a safe house run by the Provos. From the woman’s description, there were at least five people living there, probably more. It’s a big house, four stories, and it could hold quite a mob. Most of the people she saw there were armed, and of course the bobby was able to confirm the presence of automatic weapons, though he wasn’t able to tell what kind.
    â€œAlso, according to the woman, O’Malley is now dead. Apparently, well, it was O’Malley who brought the young lady in question and a girlfriend of hers home, and it seems that was a breach of the house rules. O’Malley was shot by Pak. Pak’s girlfriend shot our informant’s friend, but the informant was able to make a break for it and escape out onto the street, where she, ah, attracted the notice of the police.
    â€œNaturally, the police were called in. The officer who picked up the girl reported being taken under fire, and there were reports of gunfire called in from other houses in the neighborhood. The police have cordoned off the area and are trying to open up communications with the people inside. They still don’t have a good idea about how many people we have inside, or how well armed they might be.
    â€œAs of zero four hundred hours this morning, the Minister of Defense has put this unit on full alert, and I am calling a Class One stand-to. We have the helos loading now at the field. We will deploy A Troop, full takedown kit and harness, to a staging area two miles from the scene. Any questions?”
    Roselli raised his hand. “Sir. Any chance us SEALs could tag along?”
    Wentworth grinned at him. “Absolutely. I can’t promise you a combat slot, but at least this will give you Yanks a chance to see how the SAS does things in the real world. Any other questions? Okay, let’s move out!”

6
    Saturday, April 28
    0710 hours
Rüsselsheim, Federal Republic of Germany
    Murdock awoke suddenly, momentarily wondering where he was. Then he sensed the sleek, warm, naked form of Inge Schmidt sprawled in the tangle of sheets at his side, and remembered. Carefully, so that he wouldn’t wake her, he pulled away and stretched. His watch read 0710 hours . . . late for a SEAL who rarely slept past 0530.
    But then, they’d been awake for a long time last night. He wasn’t at all sure exactly when he and Inge had finally gotten to sleep.
    Despite his careful movements, her eyes opened. “Good morning, my wonderful lover.”
    â€œMorning, beautiful. Sleep well?”
    â€œMmm. Delightfully.” She reached over, running her fingers softly down the plank-hard slabs of muscle on his stomach. “You know, that steak was marvelous, but since last night, I’ve acquired a prodigious appetite for seafood. Especially SEAL. Delicious.”
    Gently caressing her left breast, he grinned at her from across the pillow. “Plenty more where that came from. Want another helping?”
    â€œYou know, I don’t mind if I do. I understand the British eat fish for breakfast. What are they called?”
    â€œKippers?”
    â€œYes, kippers. Me, I much prefer raw SEAL for my breakfast.” Raising herself up on one elbow, she leaned over, lightly kissing his chest, then slowly running her tongue down his torso, pausing here and there to lick or kiss, her golden, shoulder-length hair brushing lightly enough across his skin to tickle.
    This shouldn’t be happening, Murdock thought. It couldn’t be happening. Not so suddenly . . . so unexpectedly . . .
    Except for a low moan escaping from Murdock as he closed his eyes and slumped back against his pillow, nothing more was said for several minutes.
    The telephone rang on Inge’s bedside table, a harsh, intrusive explosion of sound.
    â€œOh . . . damn,”