London Calling Read online

  London Calling

  A Beta Force Thriller

  Ernest Dempsey

  138 Publishing

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Thank You

  Other Books By Ernest Dempsey

  Acknowledgments

  1

  London

  The target exited the building and paused on the sidewalk, taking a moment to look both ways to make sure he wasn't being followed. Satisfied, he slipped on his wire-frame sunglasses and took off to the left. He pulled the gray hoodie over his head, tugging on it to make it snug.

  "What's with the sunglasses?" Zeke asked as he watched the man from a sedan parked along the sidewalk. He was positioned a hundred yards from the building the target had just left and had been watching the entrance for the last four hours. Empty fish-and-chips trays, napkins, and a half-empty bottle of water littered the vehicle's interior, evidence of the passage of time.

  "Maybe he wants to look cool," Phoenix answered. "Why are you worried about it? We're supposed to be following him, not wondering about the guy's fashion choices."

  "I'm just saying it's a cloudy day."

  "Most days are cloudy in London this time of year."

  "That's my point. Don't you think the sunglasses might make him stand out more than he would without them?"

  "Are you wearing sunglasses?" Phoenix asked into the radio.

  Zeke sighed and thumbed the left temple of his Oakley Turbines. "No."

  "You are, aren't you? I knew it."

  "First of all, you don't know me."

  "I do."

  "Second, I have very sensitive eyes. The slightest brightness hurts."

  "You know you're really judgmental? Judging a guy wearing sunglasses on a cloudy day when you're wearing a pair, too? How do you know he doesn't have sensitive eyes?"

  "Are you done?" Zeke asked.

  "Yeah. Are you done?"

  "Yes because our guy is on the move, and I just lost visual."

  "What?"

  "He's rolling to you."

  "Oh great. Thank you for that."

  "Hey, you know what? Look for a guy with a hoodie and wearing sunglasses on a cloudy day, Agent Underwood," Zeke said, his tone lathered in cynicism.

  "Thanks for the tip, Agent Marshall."

  Zeke turned on the engine, checked the rearview mirror, and accelerated out into traffic.

  "You have him yet?"

  Three blocks away, Phoenix stood outside a pub pretending to read a newspaper. He was so preoccupied with keeping an eye out for their suspect that he didn't even realize the paper in his hands was upside down.

  "No, not yet. I should any…oh never mind. Target acquired. I repeat, I have visual."

  "Good. Keep an eye on him. We can't let this guy get away."

  "Oh really? Because I was thinking maybe no one would notice if we let one of the biggest cyberterrorists in the world slip through our fingers."

  "There's no need to get snippy, Agent Underwood."

  "Actually, this is the perfect time to get snippy!" He spoke louder than he intended, drawing the attention of a few passersby who clearly thought he was the local crazy person. The upside-down newspaper wasn't helping.

  The target continued toward him with the hoodie pulled down so low over his forehead that it touched the top of the man's sunglasses. The suspect kept his head down, his eyes focused on the ground as he walked. White wires dangled from his ears and merged into one, trailing down into his pocket.

  "He's listening to something," Phoenix said. "And clearly, he hasn't heard of wireless technology."

  Zeke turned the car into the street where he'd seen the target go and merged into a parking spot. He saw his partner across the street holding a newspaper and looking incredibly conspicuous in his effort to look inconspicuous.

  "Some people prefer the wires. That wireless stuff gets choppy sometimes, especially when the batteries are running low. You know, like when you forget to charge them!"

  "Oh, so you're going to blame me for that, too?"

  "No, but your newspaper is upside down."

  Phoenix looked up and saw his partner sitting across the street in the black Jaguar sedan. He shook his head and corrected the paper as the target passed by.

  "Nice sunglasses," Phoenix muttered into the radio at a volume only Zeke could hear. Then he tucked the paper under his arm and fell in behind the target.

  "I...have...sensitive...eyes," Zeke answered in a sharp staccato.

  "Yeah, okay. I have the target."

  Phoenix followed the gray hoodie another block until they came to an intersection and a crosswalk. The light was red going their direction, and a cluster of people had already gathered to wait for the change.

  Phoenix stood there nervously, letting his eyes wander over the crowd and across the street to make it look like he was just an ordinary pedestrian on his way to an appointment.

  The target’s casual façade crumbled as he leaped away from the group on the sidewalk and into the moving traffic.

  Car horns blared, and tires screeched as the man nimbly jumped over one car, sliding across the hood to safety on the other side. Another skidded to a stop just before it hit him. The target spun around, planted his hand on the hood for balance, and took off at a full sprint.

  "You gotta be kidding me."

  "What?" Zeke demanded. "What's going on? What was that noise? I can't see."

  "Target is on the move. I think we've been made."

  "I knew you should have worn sunglasses."

  Phoenix took off after the man, weaving between the cars, confusing drivers and passengers alike. He held up his hands, shouting, "It's okay, I'm a cop…or something!"

  "Smooth," Zeke said as he joined the flow of traffic. Unfortunately, the light was still red, and the vehicles were bumper to bumper. "Perfect."

  "What?" Phoenix asked, already panting for breath as he flew past the walking signal and dashed ahead after the suspect.

  "Stuck here for the moment. You're on your own until I can catch up."

  "Of course I am."

  "Oh, don't start with—" He cut off his sentence as he nudged the car in front of another vehicle with only inches to spare. He waved his mocking gratitude at the other driver, who'd given him almost no space. "Thanks for letting me out," Zeke said as the angry driver flashed a number of hand signals. Zeke didn't have to be an expert lip reader to understand the slew of obscenities the man was throwing his way. "Jerk," he muttered.

  Phoenix pumped his legs harder in pursuit of the target. He twisted his body sideways to slip through a couple of forty- to fiftysomethings casually walking along with their coffees in hand. He bumped one of them in the shoulder as he passed through the narrow gap. The black man, his hair sticking up all over the place, looked back through dark sunglasses, irritated that he'd almost spilled his coffee.

  "Hey
, watch it, Bro," the guy said in an American accent.

  "What was that?" Zeke asked into the radio.

  Phoenix slowed long enough to swivel around and offer a quick "I'm sorry." Then he pinched his eyebrows together and continued the chase. "I'm not sure, but I think I just bumped into Lenny Kravitz."

  "What?"

  "Like, literally bumped into him. He still looks great. I wonder how he does it."

  "Whatever, man. Do you still have eyes on the target?"

  "Yeah," Phoenix said between breaths. "I got him." His lungs were working overtime now despite the considerable increase in training he'd been doing in the last few months. After the events in Afghanistan, the new head of the Global Intelligence Commission, Jessica Benson, had ordered Phoenix and his partner to perform more rigorous training and exercise, much more than they'd ever endured before.

  The man in the hoodie didn't appear to be wearing down, though, and Phoenix didn't feel like keeping up the pace for much longer. He could do it—he just didn't want to. The sooner they could wrangle this guy in, the better.

  The target ran into a young couple, barreling over the man and knocking the guy onto his back. The woman screamed at him about watching where he was going, but the mark kept running with barely a break in his step.

  Phoenix watched his quarry abruptly turn right, and another right a few seconds later.

  "He's heading onto Brewer," Phoenix said. "Any time you feel like getting in on this, that would be great."

  "Yeah, I'm working it."

  Zeke spun the wheel suddenly and cut through a narrow opening between two other vehicles. The action drew more angry honking, but Zeke soon left the ire behind as he sped down the alley toward Brewer Street.

  Phoenix's lungs ached. The muscles in his legs burned. He knew he could go for miles at a slower pace, but this was a near sprint.

  "Stop…running!" he shouted at the target. "We just want to ask you some questions!"

  The man didn't even look back. He kept his nose down and picked up his pace even more, adding to the gap between himself and his pursuer with every step.

  "Come on, man!" Phoenix pleaded. "I just want to talk!"

  This time, the target twisted his head slightly. Phoenix knew the guy wasn't going to stop, but anything he could do to get him to slow down or get distracted was a positive—while Zeke dallied around doing whatever he was doing.

  Suddenly, a black Jaguar XE shot out of a side street and into the empty crosswalk directly in front of their target. His head swiveled back just in time to see the sedan, but not in time to avoid slamming into its side.

  The guy crumpled to the ground for a moment then began to scramble to his feet. It was all Phoenix needed to catch up.

  Phoenix skidded to a stop and slammed his hand down on the guy's back, just below the neck. He clutched the collar hard as the man continued to struggle.

  "I told you we just want to talk," Phoenix said. "Now you will have to get that bump looked at."

  The man finally turned and looked up into his captor's eyes. Curiosity got the better of him. "What bump?"

  "This one." Phoenix shoved the man's head into the hood.

  The guy wobbled, dazed from the blow but not knocked unconscious.

  "You run pretty well for a hacker," Phoenix commented. "Not well enough, but still, I'm impressed."

  Zeke climbed out of the car and grabbed the man, slipping a pair of zip ties around his wrists and tightening them in an instant. Then he opened the back door of the car, and the two Americans shoved the guy in.

  They slammed the door shut as the guy writhed in the back, still dazed from the head injury.

  Pedestrians stared at the two men as they strolled by, faces aghast at what they'd just witnessed. Some were on their cell phones, clearly calling the police.

  "Don't be alarmed, citizens," Zeke said, "we have the situation under control." He held out his badge for some of the concerned people to see, and they peered at the identification with curiosity.

  He turned to Phoenix, who looked like he was about to vomit. He was bent over at the hips and clutching his waist as he caught his breath.

  "Why are you so out of breath, Bro?" Zeke asked.

  Phoenix looked up and fired daggers from his eyes. "Shut…up. What were you doing anyway?"

  "Traffic. I already told you."

  "Glad you managed to get through it."

  "Yeah," Zeke agreed with a look in the back seat. "Guess it was lucky I got here."

  More daggers flung from Phoenix's eyes, but he was too fatigued to say anything else.

  "Nothing to see here, folks," Zeke continued pandering to the pedestrians as they passed. "Official GI….” He caught himself nearly giving away the agency’s secrecy. “Um…official, GI Joe business. We'll be out of the way shortly."

  A moment later, the two men got into the sedan and sped away, disappearing into the mayhem of London traffic, leaving no trace of what happened just moments before.

  “GI Joe?” Phoenix asked, incredulous. “Smooth.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t hear you chiming in with any gems.”

  As Zeke whipped the car around the next corner, Phoenix looked back through the rear window. "The best part is no one will know we were even there."

  2

  London

  "I can't believe how many people knew we were there!" Zeke muttered.

  They stared at the video footage obtained from surveillance cameras in the area that provided three different angles of the abduction. Some passersby witnessed the incident and some even took videos, then posted them online. That wasn't helpful, especially when Zeke sounded like he was bragging about their mission so that people wouldn't freak out. That cleanup took more than a little effort from the GIC's cyber division. There were accounts to disable, shares to wipe, and all told, the elimination of any trace of the two men's presence in London cost the agency more money than Zeke and Phoenix would make in a year—combined.

  "Yeah, you know you were supposed to be keeping a low profile, right?" Jessica Benson, director of the GIC, glared at the two agents with lava oozing from her eyes. She spoke so loudly that the speakers on the wall-mounted television sounded as if they would burst.

  Agents Underwood and Marshall cringed, shrinking visibly to shoulder level. They were glad she was only on the monitor and not actually in the room with them.

  The two men sat in a makeshift conference room that was housed in the back of an old printing company. The company had gone out of business years ago, and the GIC took the opportunity to place one of their safe houses there due to its proximity to the center of London. It gave agents the perfect hub to retreat to for safety, rendezvous with other operatives, and—in this case—bring a subject in for questioning.

  At the moment, Phoenix and Zeke weren't thinking about the interrogation. Their minds, ears, and eyes were focused on one thing: the lashing being dished out by Director Benson.

  "Do you two idiots have any idea how many cameras caught your little abduction?" she asked, her voice still raised to the level of severe agitation.

  "First of all, idiots is a strong word, and not a very nice one at that," Zeke offered.

  The woman on the screen seethed at the comment, her arms folded loosely across her chest.

  "It might be the right word," he admitted. "Still, it's mean."

  "From the looks of it, there were three cameras," Phoenix said.

  She directed her searing gaze at him.

  "Not counting the cell phone videos," he added quickly.

  "Director Benson," Zeke cut in, "I know this looks bad. And I know that you went through a ton of resources to clean this up for us, but we got the guy. That was the primary objective."

  "The primary objective was to get the guy and do it without being spotted or causing a scene. Now every terrorist, cybercriminal, and anyone else that fits in the bad guy mold knows who you are and what you do."

  "We're sorry," Phoenix said.

  "I'm su
re you are, but that doesn't cut it. And it certainly doesn't make this go away. The only thing that will cause people to forget is time."

  "Yeah, the moment another video comes out and goes viral with some cute cat video or a couple fighting it out while cussing up a storm on an airline, no one will remember this." Zeke sounded more hopeful than confident.

  "Maybe," Benson conceded. There was merit to his comment. Still, they'd screwed up. Big time.

  "Director," Phoenix pleaded, "we didn't have a choice. The target ran. What were we supposed to do?"

  "Not get spotted. He ran because he made you."

  Phoenix and Zeke weren't so sure about that.

  "I don't think so," Zeke said.

  "What was that?" Benson arched one eyebrow and fired another warning glare at him. If he overstepped, she would come down hard on him.

  "I said I don't think so, Jessica." He said her name as if it annoyed him.

  The truth was she had more experience in the agency and more time in leadership roles, but they'd all been at GIC a comparable length of time, and Zeke didn't appreciate the attitude she suddenly displayed. "There's no way he saw us. I was in the car, blending in, minding my own. Phoenix was a block away, also incognito."

  "He's right," Phoenix agreed, not that it helped.

  "I was tailing the guy, and he got spooked, but it wasn't by us. Something or someone else caused him to run."

  For a moment, it looked as though she might consider what he was saying, that his explanation possibly held some merit. Then the moment was gone, and her face blended back into a mix of anger and skepticism.