Free Nucflash by Keith Douglass Page B

Murdock said, with considerable feeling. Inge reached across his body to pick up the receiver. “Ja?” She listened for a moment to a voice that Murdock could just barely hear as a murmuring buzz. Her eyes met his. “Ja . . . yes, Chief. He is here.” She handed the phone to Murdock. “Your Master Chief MacKenzie.”
    â€œGood morning, Chief.”
    â€œSorry for the interruption, L-T,” MacKenzie’s voice said. “Hope I’m not calling too early.”
    Damn the man. For a bleary moment, Murdock wondered how MacKenzie had known he was here. Then he remembered signaling the man out the window. Hell, Mac and Hopke had probably posted a security watch outside last night. So much for privacy.
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œSomething’s happening. You’d better get squared away and get on in here.”
    â€œWhere is ‘here’?”
    â€œBKA headquarters, of course. I just had a call from Dorset. Seems there’s been an incident over in England, and it might affect our boys.”
    Inge had returned her full attention to Murdock’s erection, and her ministrations were making it difficult for him to concentrate on MacKenzie’s words. Reaching down, he gently stroked her cheek, then guided her away from his lap. Nodding her comprehension, she shifted her position to simply cuddle close against his side, her hand on his chest.
    â€œWhat’s up?”
    â€œYou know those tangos we were supposed to check on with Komissar?”
    Tangos—military slang for “terrorists.”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œSeems the Koreans gave British intel the slip, then turned up in a row house in Middlebrough. There’s been an incident, one civilian hurt or killed, another escaped. Police have been fired at. The SAS is being assembled for a possible assault.”
    â€œOkay.” He sat up, swinging his legs out of bed. “I’ll be in quick as I can get there. You start the ball rolling on getting us a first-available military flight out of here.”
    â€œAlready taken care of, Skipper. A C-130 with 3rd Support, leaving Wiesbaden Air Base at zero-nine-twenty. You’d better hustle.”
    â€œYou’re talking to an echo.” He hung up. Inge was sitting up behind him, her arms around his neck.
    â€œLeaving so soon?”
    â€œSorry. Some of my boys might be about to get themselves into a firefight. I have to be there.”
    â€œI understand.” She felt warm and very soft against his back. “I’ll drive you to the BKA. Just let me get washed up and dressed.”
    Â 
    1230 hours
Waterfront Rise
Middlebrough, England
    Chun Hyon Hee gently eased aside the curtain on the third-floor window, keeping well back from the opening as she peered out into the bright daylight beyond. From here, she could see the police barricades, and beyond that the waiting, watching crowds of curious onlookers, the news media, the gawkers.
    It was a pity, really. The location of this safe house, which originally had been a place for Provos on the run from the British to lie low, had been ideal. The brownstone building housing the Waterfront Rise flats fronted on Northport Street, just across from the main entrance to the BGA Consortium’s Middlebrough port facility. From the third-floor front balcony, Chun had a splendid view of the entire expanse of the shipyard, from the storehouses and rail yards behind the fence, to the wharfs, piers, and shiploading machinery on the waterfront, to the harbor itself and the dozens of ships moored there, from lighters and small craft to mammoth oil tankers. To the right, beyond the Port Authority buildings at the south end of town, an enormous tank farm rose behind the skyline clutter of cranes and cargo gantries.
    Middlebrough had long been an industrial center in this part of England, but in recent years the influx of oil from the North Sea fields had transformed parts of the port into an important