The Becket Approval by Falconer Duncan (best big ereader .TXT) 📗

road with a distinctive loop in it that he needed to be inside. He adjusted his aim towards it, willing himself forward. 8,300 metres high. He kept the position. He was getting closer.

Gunnymede watched the altimeter spin through the numbers. As it closed on 3,000, his concentration grew more acute. He needed to be another click or so. He would keep tracking until the auto pull released his chute. At 1,500 meters the ground came into sharper focus as it accelerated towards him. The gauge passed 800, 700, 600. Heading for critically low! Had the auto pull failed? He flared out, halting the track, his hand quickly searching for the ripcord. As his fingers found it Gunnymede felt the heavily loaded spring in the release mechanism pop. His body jerked hard as the chute opened, like crashing into a wall, his chin hitting his chest, every bit of air knocked out of him, the harness straps biting into his thighs. Just as suddenly he was upright under a rectangular canvass, the ground almost within reach.

There wasn’t much time. Whoever had configured the barometric pressure reading had cut it fine, no doubt because the lower the opening the less chance there was of being picked up by radar. He grabbed both steering toggles and yanked down on them. As they came level with his chest he felt the chute move back. He released them to prevent it stalling. The ground was rocky. It quickly rose up to meet him. A broken leg would end the operation and probably his life. A couple of metres from impact he shut the cells. The chute stalled as his feet hovered above the ground and he touched down lightly. As the chute collapsed ahead of him he unclipped it and it fell away.

Holy mother of God, I’m alive!

He had no time to waste as he pulled his way out of the stealth suit and harness and unstrapped the assault rifle from his side. After collecting the chute, he folded it into a bundle along with the stealth suit and covered it with rocks. It wasn’t perfectly hidden but then it was unlikely that the location saw any human traffic. The position was miles from civilisation and not exactly attractive hiking or hunting country. There was no indication of the country of origin on any of the gear if it was found anyway. He pulled the pack onto his back, cocked his assault rifle and climbed onto a rock to inspect the direction he needed to head. A check through the scope gave him a finer view. The sun remained behind the cloud he’d passed through and the air was chilly with a slight breeze. It didn’t look like rain. Perfect conditions.

Gunnymede unlocked his phone, pulled up the SIS app, used the fourth fingerprint of his left hand to open it and selected the satellite image he’d been sent. He zoomed out the image until the Spice Road came into view and orientated it to fit his position. The nearest point of the road was five clicks south. Another satellite image opened showing five seconds of footage of three vehicles driving along a dirt road. Taz’s convoy. The footage had been taken minutes before and relayed to him. The lead vehicle looked like a Toyota Hilux. The map showed Gunnymede’s position relative to the convoy. Taz was on his way.

Gunnymede took a slug of water from the bladder, had a pee, adjusted the pack on his back and headed off at a good pace.

The terrain was rough going and an hour later he caught sight of the road which was on lower ground a couple of hundred metres away. He removed the pack and gave the area a 360 through the scope. There wasn’t much in the way of cover between his position and the road so he decided to stay where he was. He didn’t need to be any closer to achieve his aim anyway.

He removed the bags from his pack containing the Rapto technology and within a minute had attached the antenna and battery to the control box. When he switched it on, an amber LED flickered before turning green. The device made a soft noise followed by a READY message on a screen. Gunnymede checked the network indicator on his phone. It had changed from the Russian network it had been using to searching which meant the Rapto was doing its job. Seconds later, it went back to the Russian network. A series of numbers appeared on the screen. It was his phone’s ten digit MIN. All appeared to be working.

A sound drifted to him on the breeze and he looked towards the eastern approach expecting to see the three 4x4s. There was nothing there. He looked west to see a vehicle heading east along the road. A 4x4. Through the scope, he could see it was a black Ford.

Another engine sound and he looked east again to see three vehicles come into view. Taz’s convoy. Gunnymede checked the Rapto to see it was already busy loading numbers onto the screen. Within seconds it had recorded seven different MINs. No doubt they included any phones in the Ford. Not that it mattered. GCHQ could track a hundred thousand numbers and match the right one with Taz using a facial recognition system at the first opportunity.

Gunnymede’s job was done. A boy scout could’ve done it.

He connected his phone to the Rapto which automatically connected to GCHQ and relayed the data while watching the vehicles move along the road. As he dismantled the gear, he glanced at the Ford and Toyotas as they slowed to pass each other on the narrow road. As he watched, the Ford swerved to a halt, blocking the road causing the Toyotas to brake hard kicking up a cloud of dust, four men with assault rifles leapt from the Ford and opened fire, running along the sides of