Extraordinary Rendition Part I

[Silktie]

Warning: Contains new characters mentioned in the season 10 press release.


Monday 2 May 2011

Article in The Guardian:
‘Osama bin Laden, the criminal mastermind behind al-Qaida and the world's most sought-after terrorist since the attacks of 11 September 2001, has been killed by a US operation, President Barack Obama has announced.’

4 May 2011

Article in The Guardian:
‘The United States is determined to capitalise on the death of Osama bin Laden and destroy al-Qaida, the White House chief of counter-terrorism, John Brennan, said. Brennan said the administration was aiming to "pummel the rest of al-Qaida" after US intelligence officers discovered unpublished statements produced by Bin Laden amid "a treasure trove" of computer hard drives, CDs, DVDs and papers seized from his safe house in Pakistan. They believe they may have also found communications between senior al-Qaida lieutenants and Bin Laden which could reveal information about potential targets and strategic guidance on the direction of the terror organisation, as well as the whereabouts of its operatives.’

* * *

Sunday 5 June 2011
London suburb

The black van coasted to a stop twenty metres down the street from the house. It was late, close to midnight, but dim light was visible behind the curtains of one of the downstairs rooms. The team leader flicked on the thermal scanner, and could identify two persons inside. One was in an upstairs bedroom, lying in bed, whilst the other was seated in the downstairs living room. He keyed his mike and spoke quietly into it.
“Target is in downstairs living room. We are go. All units deploy to positions.”
The van’s doors swung open and men clad in dark combat gear jumped out and quietly ran to the house, surrounding it. One by one the units reported in, confirming that they were in position. As soon as he received the last unit’s confirmation, he reached again for his mike.
“Take him,” he stated firmly.

Inside the house, a man was sitting in a comfortable armchair, listening to classical music. On his lap lay a book, but he wasn’t reading. Instead he was focussing on the soothing, beautiful music, enjoying the calmness of the evening. That was brutally shattered when the front and back doors were smashed in simultaneously, and men clad in black rushed in and surrounded him.
“On your knees!” the first one that got to him yelled, pointing a very large gun menacingly in his direction. The man didn’t move, shocked into immobility, and merely stared at them in confusion. Hands grabbed him and dragged him from the chair before forcing him to his knees.
“Confirm identity,” the team leader requested on the comms.
One of the men shone a flashlight into the astonished face of the man, making him blink.
“It’s him,” a voice behind the light confirmed.
The next moment the light was cut off as a black hood was roughly yanked over his head, and within seconds he was dragged out of the house and into the back of the van. It disappeared into the night as quietly as it had arrived.

Back in the house, the woman upstairs lay in bed, wondering what had woken her. She listened, but could hear nothing out of the ordinary. Only the music her son was listening to downstairs. Then, as one of her curtains billowed in the breeze, she heard it again. The back door was banging in the wind. Why on earth would he go outside this time of night? She waited a few minutes, but the banging continued. A feeling of unease settled over her, and she got out of bed and pushed her feet into her slippers. Carefully she made her way downstairs, and froze at the sight of the busted front door. She knew then that something was terribly wrong. A frantic search of the house confirmed that her son was gone. She did the only thing she could think of. She called the police.

* * *

Her skin was soft under his hands, so soft. He was mesmerised by it as he ran his hands up her bare back, before trailing them downwards again. They came to a rest on the small of her back as he lifted his head and sought out her mouth with his. This was heaven, he decided. As he gently parted her lips with his tongue, his hands started moving again, caressing over her-

The shrill ringing of his mobile yanked him violently out of the dream. He looked around him, completely disoriented by the fact that he was alone in the bed. Reality seeped in as the mobile continued to ring; she was not there. She’d never been there. With a sigh, he heaved himself upright and reached for the mobile.
“Yes,” he muttered shortly.
“Sir Harry Pearce?” a voice asked.
“Yes.” His own now held a note of irritation.
“This is the police. We’ve had a report of a disturbance at one of the addresses on your list.”
Harry was instantly fully alert, all irritation at the rude awakening forgotten. “Whose?”
There was a rustle of paper as the policeman consulted the list before him. “A Malcolm Wynn-Jones.”
“Thank you.” With his heart beating fast, Harry threw on some clothes and was out of the door within five minutes.

* * *

Two police cars were parked in front of Malcolm’s house when Harry arrived. He parked on the opposite side of the street and got out, standing for a moment to observe the scene before him. Even from where he was he could see that the door had been kicked in, and he felt a surge of anger. After a final scan of the surroundings he crossed the street and approached the policeman stationed at the door. He flashed his ID at him and was waved inside.

It always surprised him how little damage professional snatch teams did when entering a house. Apart from the smashed door locks, everything else was undisturbed. He entered the sitting room to find a distraught Mrs Wynn-Jones seated on the couch, with a sympathetic policeman standing over her. Harry nodded at him when he looked up, and moved over to sit carefully next to Malcolm’s mother. She turned teary eyes towards him, and Harry smiled as reassuringly as he could.
“My name is Harry Pearce. I’m a former colleague of Malcolm’s. Are you all right?”
Amelia looked at the man and felt instinctively reassured. His voice was gentle and soothing, and he exuded calmness and authority. She knew what her son had done for a living all those years, so was aware that the man seated next to her must work for MI5.

“What happened to my Malcolm?” she asked, her voice shaking.
“I don’t know,” Harry responded regretfully. “But I promise you I will find out. I won’t rest until we know he’s safe.”
He squeezed her hand to reiterate his commitment to the pledge he’d made, and she gave him a grateful smile.
“Thank you. Malcolm is lucky to have such loyal friends.”
Harry swallowed and turned his head away, not wishing her to see his anguish. All the times that Malcolm had been a good friend to him came to mind, and he vowed silently to pursue with vengeance whoever had taken him.
Clearing his throat, he asked gently, “Is there someone you can stay with until this is all sorted out?”
She nodded. “Betty next door said I could stay with her.”
“Good.” Harry fished in his coat pocket and produced a small card. “This is my personal number. You are welcome to call me at any time. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”
He pressed the card into her hand, and with a few more words of support, he left her to the care of the policeman.

Outside on the pavement he stopped and looked up and down the street thoughtfully. The senior investigator at the scene joined him.
“Sir Harry.”
They shook hands.
“Nasty business,” the policeman stated. “Any idea who could’ve done it?”
Harry shook his head. “None. He was retired, so there is nothing recent that could be tied into it. Did anyone see anything?”
“No. They were all asleep, unfortunately. It’s mostly older people that live in this neighbourhood, so no late night revellers returning and accidentally witnessing something.”
The spook took a final look around, pushing down his frustration at the lack of information. “Right. Let me know if you find anything.”

Harry got back into his car and sat thinking for a minute. MI5 had a unit that investigated any criminal activity against members of the organisation. By rights he should inform them and hand the case over, but... It was Malcolm. Through the many years they had worked together, he had grown fond of the techie, and regarded him as a genuine friend. Besides, this had been a professional job, and he had the very uncomfortable feeling that there was something much more sinister at play than a mere criminal act. He made up his mind, and reached for his mobile to Red Flash his team.

tbc