Thom let the big man take the lead, George doing what he had to do, as he covered him and watched him pull it off. It wasn't dramatic, but it got the job done, as he swept around, keeping an eye open for anyone else that was with this man. "Target is under, repeat, target is under. We have our man." Thom said, looking to George, nodding. ------------- Kingmaker watched, Martin observing the scene unfolding, as he crossed his hands, watching on. "Good protocol, Bugcatcher. It's en route then. I'll have the crew....well, understand what the situation is." He said, as he walked away from Bugcatcher, taking his phone out, and dialling a number, leaving the room for a moment, fully aware that he didn't need to. Bugcatcher would know precisely what he was up to as Martin went outside, but it happened so quickly, that nobody there would have understood it entirely. ------------------- The ambulance carreered to a halt outside, people running around, and anti-terrorist police rushing past into the cleaned out station, as Thom and George carried the man towards it. It felt strange to be in this environment, and he was almost glad that the MPX wasn't as easily seen, and the cops that had arrived had their orders. This felt strangely in sync, like someone above had pulled strings perfectly, like a violinist playing a tune pitch perfect. It was thanks to a man that managed to handle this clusterfuck of agents he had at his disposal, and it had worked. The ambulance crew ran out with a wheeled stretcher, slowly picking the man up out of Thom and George's arms and putting him onto it, as they followed, moving quickly yet not running to the parked ambulance. He was slammed in faster than anyone could percieve, and inexplicably, George and Thom were in the back. The door shut, as the three-person crew were inside, and away with George, Thom and the purple-hoodied man. "Well, that happened." Thom said, leaning back as he exhaled, looking at the man in the purple hoodie, checking him over for any cyanide or weapons, any cavity he could, the ambulance staff looking on quietly, ordered not to speak a word. Thom nodded, looking to George once more. "I have a feeling we're going to have a busy evening." -------------- "The Interlude" Five Days Later Martin Thatcher was a man that had a lot of shit on his plate. The explosion at the tower had not been coincidental. Whatever it was in Pakistan that Sierra had unearthed, a raft of people were scrambling to hide their interests, Martin had concluded. The purple hoodied man was now in a container, that was classified as being a part of the property of Jordan, at an unknown RAF base in the countryside. He didn't know that of course, because in Jordan, torture laws were more lenient. Inteligence work was gritty at times, but Martin got his way of doing things and well, that was the best place. For now, it wasn't his ability to get answers- those would come in time from those who knew what he was doing. Instead of that, he had to explain how a major clusterfuck had happened on Sierra's watch. How a near-terrorist incident nearly hit the London Underground. That was frightening stuff. And now, his responsibility to go over. Sitting in the office, the other MI6 intelligence director looked across with a steely glare, shaking his head. A faceless bureaucrat, no man of action but someone who ran a desk and not much more. But someone who was chasing this tail up, to clear the facts. And of course, authorise Sierra's remit. "So, your conclusion, Martin?" He asked, as he sipped a little water, barely flinching in his chair as he did so. "The data breach was something someone was closing down. They destroyed the server alright, turns out the plug got pulled not soon after that explosion. The signal went dead....we got what we wanted, but someone wanted to limit their damage. And someone knows that we were there." "Limit their damage? What do you mean?" The grey man asked, as Martin sat up. "There is someone working in collusion. Financiers, investors in groups such as our Taliban friends. I think it's connected. They want to make sure that they don't get exposed on whatever transactions were on that server. A secure one, may I add. One that was unconnected to the internet, and used through encrypted channels. One that cost my hacker an awful lot of time." Martin explained, as he poured himself a different drink, a small glass of whiskey, no less. He needed it after this bullshit. "Interesting. That still leaves the loose end of who this shadow client is. The one that wanted to...cover their tracks. The one that did this, the person who needs their damage limited. We need more than a speculation of financiers." "The man we captured was Iranian. Potentially, government investment from them. Or, just a former operator. He still hasn't given in, so we won't find out until he coughs up. It's possible that the Islamic Republic have a beef to pick with us." Martin cautiously spoke, the other man noticing it fully. "And yet you don't sound convinced, Martin." "I'm not. Because I think I know where we might find answers. There was one name that rang out in there in particular. There was nothing else that we found particularly interesting, just plenty of shell accounts and proxies, and none of it is substantial at all. But the biggest name on that server was Hans Rosenquist, CEO of Nectar Pharmaceutials. A Swedish CEO on that list doesn't make sense. Even with all of the noise removed, his name stuck out, as the main name on that server. A man with no political investments, but he had links to financial funding for Islamic terrorist groups, if that server says so." "And what do you think then? Where does that put Sierra in chasing this down?" The director asked, a half-rhetorical question but addressed simply and plainly, rather than to undermine him. "I suggest we have a chat with him. And probably dig up more data, because Bugcatcher just loves harvesting through people's personal lives. Of course, he's too busy. But his daughter seems to be rather prominent on social media. Careless, given her father is quieter than a mouse. And yet she is as shouty as they come. And, this girl, she's going to Monaco, it seems...on daddy's yacht." "I see. And you think that could work?" The director asked, Martin chuckling, shaking his head. "Not for certain. But we haven't got any other leads. No sane father would leave a multi-million pound boat in the hands of a 23-year old in a harbour like that. Not one at the top of a major drugs company. Victoria Rosenquist, pretty young thing....it would be rather convenient if one of our agents were to get close. A man I might know would be good at it." "Good heavens. You aren't serious?" "What, has old school spy work never worked? I need a man who can do whisky, casino tables, and young girls to protect the United Kingdom. Oh, and our resident American to keep him from going off the rails." "I was going to say. Don't let your man get too attached to her." The director added, as Martin nodded, calmly sipping down a bit more whiskey, and loading up the post on his tablet, the one that had caught his eye. Victoria Rosenquist. A young woman in a skimpy bikini and a view of Monaco behind her, on what was certainly a ridiculously expensive boat. She was wearing sunglasses and from the looks of it, was exceptionally pretty. As Swedish a stereotype as ABBA was. The sort of girl that daddy bankrolled, and right now, had probably just given up her father's wherabouts. -------------------- [u][i][b]The Monégasque Gambit[/b][/i][/u] [u]Three Weeks Later Monte-Carlo, Monaco[/u] -- The plan was simple. And so long as Sierra didn't totally fuck this, it would remain as such. Kingmaker had briefed the team beforehand, and whilst it felt strange to be going to this sort of work, he had to guess that from an extended debrief, and the fact that it was a disappointing haul from the tower server in London simply that hadn't made up for the effort they had made, this was going to be something to find a better understanding. George had been put in as a civilian, flying from London to Nice, then getting a helicopter to Monaco's Heliport as a VIP, under his psudonym, and no doubt, was going to be rather chuffed to bits about that very idea of that happening. All in the while, Martin had Cassie on the ground after leaving Nice Airport, also in civilian attire, and as a seperate guest to the Casino de Monte-Carlo. The. Thom was with Drevan and Martin in the van, who unlike his usual self, wasn't sitting in a room in London, but in the thick of it. It felt very, very James Bond this. This was about finding Victoria Rosenquist, in the Casino, and letting George....do his thing. However he pleased. He was such a gentleman that he probably was going to try and use his exquisite charm on her, as Martin had seen him do before. But, any other option was open. She needed to fess up to where daddy was, and the moment that happened, Martin was aware that they'd have their man to chase. A warrant or an arrest would just be too suspicious, and give him too much time to clean house. So this was the only way they had, and Martin fucking hoped that there would be results from this. Only difference? The support team involved, and the fact that it wasn't just one gentleman spy doing his thing. It was a team of highly trained intelligence operators that weren't meant to be there, at all. Something about it felt connected to Martin, wondering about it still. MI6's AI programmes had run it through a Fraud database, deciphering links in documents and data and it came up to him, mysteriously. Nonsensically, of course, because how on earth did an Iranian operator, a Al-Qaeda and Taliban data farm and a Swedish CEO connect. It had something in there, and he was going to find out, one way or another. Looking at his watch, he checked the time. It was time to report in with the two. 9:30pm, Casino Square Monte-Carlo Casino, Monaco "Cavalier, Liberty, report in. We have eyes on you by the entrance of the Casino. CCTV is limited inside, due to the nature of the estabishment- I'll let Bugcatcher see what he can do but you'll be mostly on your own in there. Remember the op. Find our girl, given she last checked in here about 15 minutes ago, and find out what you can on where her father is. Remember, you're unarmed and we don't want to pick a fight here. Cavalier, you should probably be the first to make a move, Liberty, I suggest you watch for security around our girl." He spoke into his headset, checking the silenced Browning Hi-Power in his suit jacket, looking to Drevan's mobile setup inside the van. "Go time, Hackerman." Martin said, nodding, Thom looking out through the back seat. "Why the fuck aren't I in there, boss?" "Because....well.....you're gonna need to fucking floor it when Cavalier gets slapped by our target and runs out followed by half a dozen bouncers." Martin said, deadpan serious, before cracking a smirk. "Ah. Right." Thom replied, shrugging as he just took the section chief's advice, looking through the window across the square, still amazed he'd found somewhere so close to park. The two operators going in had comms hidden on them, and Bugcatcher would be able to watch their every move too, if the hidden cameras they had were placed correctly.