Free Thunder by Anthony Bellaleigh Page B

years.
    “Something like that.” He said and reached out to wrap his strong arms supportively round her naked shoulders.
    ~~~~~
     
    Sermiers, France
     
    Ellard squinted in the late morning sunlight as he lounged against the side of an old phone-box. “The car’s burned out, on some waste ground, just outside Paris.”
    “The silverware?” asked Greere.
    “At the bottom of some reservoir I passed.” Ellard replied matter-of-factly, whilst gently hefting the heavy Salomon bag which was hanging from his shoulder. “That stuff’s gone forever.”
    “Good. So it’s all cleaned up then? No trail.”
    “As best we can. Any chatter from the French?” Ellard was keen to find out whether he was being pursued.
    “Nope. Looks like they took the bait and are chasing after our false leads.”
    “I’m going to lie low for a day or so, then head for Berlin. After this mess, I want to check on Army Boy.”
    “You’re not comfortable with this whole concept are you, Deuce?”
    Ellard could sense more than a modicum of threat in the question. “I just want to check on things, sir,” he replied pointedly.
    “Of course,” said Greere and hung up.
    Ellard frowned, replaced the pay-phone receiver, and wandered over the road to the village’s solitary bus stop. As he walked, his tightly packed clothes neatly prevented his weapons from rattling against the valuables inside the board bag. It was about another thirty minutes by bus to his little French crash pad.
    He was looking forward to spending a night there.
    He needed to make sure his little pension fund was all still safely in its hiding place, and to introduce it to these latest new additions. ‘Best to make sure you regularly put something away for your retirement,’ his old man had always said.
    ~~~~~
     
    London
     
    Greere frowned...
    Why had Ellard elected to use a landline, given that his cellphone was fully encrypted? What was he trying to hide...? Was the lazy bastard skiving-off somewhere...?
    He picked up his desk phone and dialled one of the building’s many covert technical units.
    “This is Brigadier Greere,” he announced. “Please get me an urgent location trace on Lieutenant Colonel Ellard’s secure cellphone. Mission in progress, so be very careful how you go about it. Report back only to me.”
    He knew that, even with discretion, the chances were that the cellphone would need to be scrapped afterwards. Ellard’s device would currently be somewhere on one of France’s radio networks.
    “Ah, and send me up a replacement unit for him.”
    ~~~~~
     
    Berlin
     
    Steel sat, cross-legged again, in front of the wall of glass. There were no knives being sharpened tonight. He sat motionless. Entranced.
    All across the skyline, brilliant fireworks were rising from unseen fuses. Fizzing into the clear blackness, leaving wafer-thin trails of tiny orange and yellow sparkling ashes, before exploding into magnificent temporal flowers of coloured light. Huge red and orange bursts erupted in front of the penthouse. Great white and blue expanding dishes exploded further behind.
    He didn’t know what the big event was, and he didn’t care.
    He’d been told to hold position.
    His target was here, somewhere in the expanse of humanity sprawled in front of him. When the target broke cover, Steel would be told. When the target broke cover, the target would die.
    But Steel wasn’t thinking about his target right now.
    He wasn’t even watching the fireworks.
    His shoulders, arms, and feet are twitching. Jerking as his muscles clench in time with the bangs and whistles from outside.
    His expression is one of pure fury.
    His eyes are glazed with much more than a thousand-yard stare.
    Steel is back on the battlefield.
    A place his mind can never completely leave behind.
    He has, of course, developed another convincing personality which he presents to the civilian world. He has, of course, learned to do this very well. Certainly, this façade has been effective