Reign of Evil

“This part of our mission requires a little subtlety and surprise.” Holmes shook his head. “Suggestions?”

Walker continued staring out the window. “We could jump in.”

YaYa laughed. “Like we’re going to find a plane and chutes on Christmas Day. Nice try.”

But Laws wasn’t so dismissive. “That would work if we had a place to go.”

“What about that?” Walker pointed out the front windshield to a billboard that read: “SKYDIVE COTSWALD—Five Locations,” with a picture of two grinning civilians making a tandem jump.

“But it’s Christmas,” YaYa persisted.

Walker turned to Laws. “My guess is that they have the chutes and the plane. All we have to do is jerk someone out of bed and have them fly us to altitude.”

“Let’s do it.” Holmes got on the phone to Preeti. She checked the locations. The closest was in Salisbury, but it was on the other side of a roadblock. So the next nearest location was Redlands Airfield in Swindon. Holmes ordered Walker to take them there. He told Laws to plot them a drop azimuth because they’d be using commercial chutes, which would force them to remain in the air longer.

Laws called Genie and ordered some weather data.

“So we’re really going to jump in?” YaYa grinned. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.” He scruffled Hoover’s neck. “Hear that, girl? You’re gonna jump. I’ll need to work up a Palmer rig, but it’ll be good.”

Sassy looked up from where she’d been concentrating on Holmes’s body armor and ballistic mask. She’d painted what looked a lot like an upright pitchfork on the forehead of his mask and several dozen symbols on the front and back of his body armor.

“Did someone say ‘parachute’?”

Holmes nodded.

Her eyes narrowed. She pointed at her hat. “This witch doesn’t fly.”

“You will today,” Holmes said. Then he gave her his stoic, strong look. “Suck it up. It’s the only way in.”

She had no response other than to stare at him in stunned silence.

For the first time that day Walker found something to laugh at. So he did.

CHAPTER 39

WARWICK CASTLE, WARWICK, ENGLAND. 0730 HOURS.

It had stopped snowing. Cold fog hugged the sides of the road. Dawn had just come. Ian had wanted to get on-site before light, to take advantage of the night, but it looked like he wasn’t going to make it. The drive from Warwick had been too long.

They were headed southwest on the A361 and less than three kilometers away from their objective when Ian saw the roadblock. He knew in the pit of his stomach it was there for him. Each driver had been issued a radio. He ordered the last van to pull up and continued to the roadblock with the rest of the vehicles. Two police sedans were pulled across the road. Three men in jackets stood to one side. They had pistols in holsters on their hips, which meant they weren’t just police. They all wore military uniforms, although their name tags had been removed. One was a large Irishman with the flattened nose of a professional fighter. Another was a young kid, his eyes wide and nervous. The last one was a mousy man with a weasel’s face.

Magerts pulled the BMW to a stop so its nose was a few feet from those of the police cars.

Both Ian and Magerts got out.

Ian decided to take the offensive. “Can you move these out of the way? I need to get through.”

The big Irishman stepped forward. “Easy there, mate. You’re not going nowhere.”

Ian allowed a look of surprise to cross his face. “What do you mean? We’re on a mission from the Queen. You stop us at your own peril.”

A slim mousy-haired man with glasses frowned. “What’s he talking about, Bill?” His ill-fitting uniform showed he was a lance corporal.

“Take it easy, Geoff. Man’s all bluff.” To Ian, Bill said, “Now run along. No one’s getting through this way for quite a while.”

“What’s going on?” Magerts asked.

“I wouldn’t know,” sniffed the man named Bill.

Ian addressed the mousy man and the young kid who hadn’t yet spoken. “You men are participating in an illegal action. Stopping men of the Queen in a time of war is treason.”

That had the intended effect. The other two men were suddenly very nervous. “Listen, we’re just here because Bill says—”

“Shut it, Tim. I told you, the man is all bluff.”

Ian shook his head. “No bluff here.” He pulled the Queen Letter out and proffered it for them to read but held on to it. As Tim and the mousy one read it, their eyes widened. “You’ll notice the official seal and Her Majesty’s signature.”

Tim backed away. “I don’t want to be part of this.”

“Like you have a choice, Tim Thompson.” Bill squared his shoulders and addressed Ian. “How do I know this is real?”

“Seriously? When’s the last time someone tried to get through a roadblock with a fake letter signed by the Queen?” Ian flicked a hand at the cars. “Now get out of the way.”