Hawthorne passes on the questions. Frostorm responds.
"Devorado? No idea. Never heard of him. The boss is ... well, this probably won't go well for me, but it can't go any worse ... He calls himself Overlord. I don't know his real name, but he speaks German very well. He's looking for a way into some kind of underwater base, is all I know. He's got some kind of little guy he keeps in a jar, and a woman he keeps threatening to make the little guy help. They're searching for this base, all kinds of clues but they haven't found it yet. Which is where your man came in."
"Overlord gave us the truck to use. It's out of our league, but we needed some way of releasing your man from the damping field, quickly and before your guys arrived."
Hawthorne stares at the man. "Python's in an induced coma. Otherwise we'd be talking to her as well. You're in a lot of trouble, chum."
"Ask him what the plan was once they successfully freed and followed Anderson from the truck to wherever he was going to go. What were their orders then?"
Hawthorne relays Longbow's question:
"Dunno. Our job was basically done at that point. We were to make off, hide and await contact. That little detachment of troops we had were regarded as expendable. They had some fake orders to rendezvous on the coast with some kind of sub, but Python and I were told there was no such thing."
"Anderson can fly. How did you plan to follow him?"
Hawthorne relays Gracie's question:
"You're missing my point. We weren't following him. I don't know who had that detail. Our job was just to get him out."
"That's not what you said earlier: you specifically said you were to free AND follow him. Are you changing your answer now?"
Our orders were to free Protector and then follow him.
"Yeah, got it wrong. My mistake"
"So, again, how did you plan to follow him? It's not like he would have followed roads, or slowed down and waited for you."
"Or whoever was following him... would it be plausible this 'Overlord' have some means of tracking him? Based on what you've seen of his tech?"
Hawthorne repeats the question. "We're not the only enhanced he has, though, apart from this jar-guy, I couldn't actually put a finger on the others. Plus he has his technology. That truck, for example, always seemed to be smarter than anybody in it. Did you talk to it before you ripped it apart? It spoke about ten languages. As for Overlord, he always seems to have a plan, if you know what I mean?"
"How were you hired for the job, and what were the circumstances surrounding that meeting?"
Hawthorne relays Longbow's question.
"Ahh. We've done work for him before. Python and I have worked together a fair bit. He generally works through agents; he has a number of them working through the authorities in the DDR. I had a call from one of them in East Berlin. It's all fairly above board there - the authorities turn a blind eye in return for western money."
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There has to be a point to letting amateurs run this interrogation, though I can't see it. He should have trained people for that. At least I know what I don't know he muses to himself as he watches the proceedings.
Maybe he already has had the job run and this is kabuki theatre. No telling.
Hawthorne stops. "I think there's no more from this idiot, at least for now. He'll get some deeper checks..." ... he looks meaningfully at Frostorm ... "once we have the warrant from the minister; then he'll go to lockdown. Python needs to come out of her coma to be useful."
He steps out of the room and continues speaking into his comm.
"Next step is Barcelona, I think, to try and make some sense of this. We're in a race against Overlord, it seems; a race for what, it's unclear. Get some rest; we have some rooms set up for you. There'll be a flight of Chinooks in the morning to get you to Catalonia."
Being a combat veteran, he knows getting sleep when possible is a high priority. However he does need some food. "Pardon me sir, where does one find the mess?"
Once told, he will head there and fill up, the off to his room for shuteye.
"I wouldn't mind a bite to eat either," Gracie says.
She pauses. "If we're going to Spain, will we need a translator?"
Hawthorne, now back in the same room as the team, nods.
"The cafeteria cooks have gone home, but we'll organise food delivered from a nearby hotel. I'll get some menus and there'll be someone on hand to organise it - you can eat in the common area near the rooms. As for translators, the local Delta 6 station officer will meet you in Barcelona and organise logistics; the guy you're meeting is British. For the time you're there, there's a Spanish military facility nearby we can use, but I doubt you'll be there for long."
Lieutenant Isherwood leads the team out, along another series of long corridors and then into a large elevator. Typing in a code, this travels to another floor (the actual floor numbers are however not indicated on or by the elevator), opening onto a large common area, painted and furnished in a pure sterile white, with at its centre a large octagonal table.
Around this central area are a series of eight doors; beyond each one is a relatively large and comfortable room, somewhat like a hotel suite (although again decorated in whites and greys). Each has a large bed, but also desks for writing and working. And each has a bathroom. There are no telephones. Isherwood demonstrates a call system to be used to make requests and in case of emergencies but notes "it's not room service, though".
"Having said that, I have some menus here. Order what you like and we'll go and get it. There's also a fridge in each of the rooms, with milk for tea and so on. Use the caller if you need something. I'll be around But make sure to get some rest. We'll be setting off tomorrow at 0700; someone will come and fetch you at 0600."
Left to herself, Juliana falls into the bed and is asleep before her head hits the pillow. Her dreams are not pleasant.
Having a quick dinner of curry, Harry heads to bed.
Lightning Blade orders the heartiest meal he can manage, and devours it quickly. He then paces around his room for several minutes before going to bed, his trusty weapon propped against the nearest wall.
Gracie eats her (large, with lots of protein) meal in the common room and makes reasonably amicable conversation with anyone who is in the common room with her if they are so inclined. If not, she chews silently and sulkily.
She retires to her room as the rest do, carefully removing and attending to her armor before lying down and tossing and turning for most of the night, anxieties about disappearing like her aunt and her mother losing her, what really happened to her aunt, the mystery of what they're up against, and worries that the government has absolutely no f$@+ing clue what it's doing all doing their very best to prevent her from sleeping.
At 0600 the following morning, Lieutenants Isherwood and Crane reappear in the central meeting area, and raise the team members by knocking on their respective doors.
While waiting for them to get ready, Crane sets out the morning's agenda, calling it out from the central table.
"Morning everyone. We have about an hour to embark. If you need some breakfast there'll be something on the plane to Barcelona. The Chinooks will set off at 0700 and run cloaked to RAF Farnborough. There'll be two of you per chopper, just as on the way down here. There's a single BAe 146, modified in a similar way to the Chinooks, due to leave Farnborough at 0900 - we'll land at a NATO airfield just outside Barcelona around 12.30 local. We'll take road transport to the centre. You'll be briefed on the local procedure once we get there. We're assuming you'll be travelling back here this evening so no requirement for overnight luggage."
When ready, the two officers lead the team back through the corridors to the elevator, key in a code and wait for the lift to rise to the top floor, onto the roof of the building, where three white Chinooks are waiting primed on a set of helicopter launch pads.
Isherwood nods, then speaks loudly to make himself heard above the whirr of the helicopter rotors.
"Pair off. Crane and I will travel with two of the pairs. Jenkins here," ... he points at a nearby sergeant, a tall, rough looking man who has obviously had his nose broken several times ... "will take the third group."
"We'll combine back as a single group in the plane. It has more sophisticated defences than the Chinooks. My suggestion, in the interim, is to get a nap and catch up further on your sleep. There'll be a further mission briefing on arrival in Spain."
"Hey Longbow, let's get loaded. " and heads for one of the choppers.
In the morning, Gracie re-dons her armor and greets the others with a drowsy smile, doing her best to put forward a good demeanor in the face of uncertainty.
She boards a chopper as instructed.
LB boards without a moment of hesitation.
Longbow nods at Challenger and follows silently.
Lightning Blade decides to pair up with the professor.
The plan works as outlined. The group arrive at the Farnborough airfield without incident, disembark from the helicopters and are re-embarked in a small jet, obviously kitted out for VIPs and senior officers. The flight to Spain is very comfortable as a result, just over two hours but with the opportunity for discussion and/or rest.
Early in the flight, Crane addresses them again. "When we get to Barcelona, the travel into town will be by tourist bus. We want to keep this relatively low key. We'll drop you off in pairs along with your minders, who'll accompany you to the shop to meet with our contact there. He's aware you're coming and there'll be someone waiting with him. Now, because we want to keep it low key, you should have civilian clothes. For those who haven't brought any, we will have some waiting at the airfield in Spain and you'll have a little time to change. OK?"
Lightning Blade makes a distressed grunt.
"I have some concerns about this plan. You're essentially asking me to reveal my identity. It's not that I don't trust you people, but I happen to be rather famous in Britain. There's a chance I could be recognized here as well, and that would draw a lot of unwanted attention to us."
He crosses his arms. "My civilian disguise will have to include a hat and some sort of eyewear - sunglasses, ideally. Anything less is liable to compromise my anonymity, not to mention the mission itself."
"That is acceptable. Do we have a cover story for our group, or are we winging it?"
Harry looks down at his already civilian clothes. "Right. Not a problem. "
Crane smiles and looks at Lightning. "Don't worry, we'll get you sunglasses and an anorak. You can wear it with the hood up. The weather's not that great there right now, anyhow."
To Longbow: "You won't need a cover story, you're just visiting an antiquarian bookshop. There's a large English book collection, so you could be tourists hankering for some books from home. They also sell English newspapers, for that matter, though they're a day late. There's a back room where you can talk to the proprietor, so you won't be noticed."
Juliana wears whatever is provided for her cover identity.
"Should I carry my armor with me--in my duffel obviously--or leave it with you? I'd rather have it with me, of course."
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Lightning Blade shows no interest in the Professor's ramblings.
"Yes, yes...Gracie, if you do bring your duffel, I hope you won't mind if I keep my rapier in there as well. I, too, would like to be prepared if something goes awry."
Gracie nods at Lightning Blade, "Not at all, if it's alright with the commander."
She then smiles at the professor. "Perhaps we should let you do the talking in the store. You won't look out of place at all."
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The officer nods. "The duffle's fine. You'll look like a student backpacker."
"Grayland - John Bull, I should say - knows we're coming. We're going in in small groups, at short intervals. You'll be met by the local Delta 6 station officer, who for the sake of this meeting is using the name of Michael Smith-Robinson. Grayland will wait for you in a back room. It's a bit pointless getting you in there using this song and dance and then having a mass pow wow in front of any hapless punter who's wandered in looking for the latest John Le Carre."
"Oh, if for some reason any of the locals engage you in conversation, avoid politics. The place is still a bit raw. Franco only died 10 years ago, they have a socialist government in place, they're about to join the EEC, Catalonia has limited autonomy and wants more. There's been a low level dirty war with the ETA Basque separatists since 1975, which has metastasised into a low level dirty civil war between ETA, GAL and the state. If that fact list is longer than what you know about Spain before I started telling you, it should tell you to stay well away from the subject."
Crane purses her lips.
"If I were you, Professor Kendrick, I'd try to avoid looking like a group of six. That will merely draw attention. Just assume you're in groups of three - two of you at a time, along with a guide. How you work your legend with the other two is up to you, but you should trust the agent with you to lead."
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The operation goes as planned. A tour bus, its windows blacked out, takes the group from the airfield to the centre of town, depositing the group in three pairs - Kendrick and Spellbound, Lightning and Longbow, Challenger and Gracie, each pair accompanied by one DICE officer - at different points along the Via Laietana. The three groups then converge west, into the Gothic quarter and the area behind Barcelona's old cathedral* and to ultimately to a small shopfront, its windows filled with leather-bound books.
The shop is narrow but deep, resembling some vast nineteenth century library. Each group marches purposefully to the end of the shop, not looking back, and first into a smaller library room, where they wait for the others to arrive, and then, the group complete, finally through a false door, itself made of book spines, into sparsely furnished, weakly lit room, whose books rest in dusty piles, rather than on shelves. At the centre is a group of settees, arranged in a circle.
Two figures inhabit the settees. One is a slim man, smartly dressed, neither young nor particularly old, perhaps in his forties, wearing a white shirt and a red paisley tie under a sharply tailored blue suit. His black shoes, you notice, are of an expensive sort, and so well polished that they reflect the late afternoon sunlight streaming in through the tattered lace curtains.
The other man has wispy grey-white hair, and wears a baggy white shirt, tucked into unkempt tweed trousers. Rather than shoes, he wears old fashioned military boots, clean but in a state of obvious disrepair.
The older man doesn't react as the group enters. The younger man, however, stands, smiles and stretches out his hand.
"Welcome everyone. My name is Michael Smith-Robinson. And this is my good friend Jonathan Grayland. Previously known as John Bull."
The man stands, but doesn't smile. Though old, he's still cuts a fine figure, obviously muscular. His posture is straight, not stooped. He turns his face to the group. His eyes are a milky white, he stairs ahead into the middle distance. You can see that he is blind.
"Hello. You must be the new, new thing. Welcome to my humble bookshop," he says.
===
* This is the old, medieval cathedral, not Gaudí's more modern and more famous unfinished masterpiece, the Sagrada Família.
"Honor to meet you sir. "
In his Civilian guise, Longbow shows up dressed as in a cowboy hat, a white tank top, jeans, and cowboy boots.
"Name's Jack Howard. Pleasure to meet ya'll."
Gracie carefully packs her armor away along with Lightning Blade's rapier into her duffle. Wearing comfortable clothes befitting an unkempt but happy traveler, she slings her pack over her shoulder indeed carrying off the look of a (very tall) backpacking tourist reasonably well. As they walk through the city, Gracie points out with some (quiet enough) enthusiasm the sights to Challenger, especially the cathedral -- certainly to fill in the role of tourist, but also because she's genuinely delighted to see the sights, however briefly.
When they arrive at the shop, she waves politely at Michael Smith-Robinson, but lets the others do the talking for now.
Still dressed in her school uniform, having brought no other clothes, Juliana joins the others. In Spain, she avails herself of the clothing that is offered to her and changes into a nice blue dress that matches her eyes.
On arrival at the shop, Juliana steps forward and says, "How do you do, sir? It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."