Operation:UNITY (John Steel series Book 2) Read online

  Operation: UNITY

  By P S Syron-Jones

  Copyright © P S Syron-Jones 2015

  P S Syron-Jones has the right to be identified as the author of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cover Art © & Interior design by Indie Designz

  To my Family And Friends.

  For the encouragement and support, I thank you.

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to thank

  My fantastic Wife Ani, who has endured not seeing me.

  Also: Julia Gibbs my Proofreader.

  Geoffrey West my Editor.

  And Indie Designz for the artwork and interior design.

  To my friends and work colleagues.

  Without these people this book would have never have seen the light of day.

  ONE

  Sparks flew down from broken power cables like bright orange raindrops, and intermittent flashes from bursts of electricity lit up the darkened lower sections and the faces of the scared group of people. They sat huddled together in fear as they watched the electronic counter as it blinked with every change of the countdown.

  They watched the man’s hands as he searched for an alternative way to switch off the timer, rather than using the keypad on a control panel underneath the counter.

  “Can you stop it?” asked a tall blonde woman.

  The man’s back was the only thing that was visible to them. He did not respond.

  “Hey, the lady asked you a question!” The tone of the large American was a mixture of fear and anger, but the man knew it was not directed towards him.

  “Please, Mr. Black, can you stop it?” the woman asked again. The figure stood up and walked towards them. He was tall and his rugged features seemed more handsome as the flashes of light illuminated one side of his chiselled face, he wore all black, and he wore it well.

  “I need the code, but we have time.” He turned and looked at the timer that read 04:45:36.

  “I have to find the device and hope to stop it from there.” He turned to walk away but stopped; he half turned towards them and waited for a moment.

  “Oh, and by the way the name isn’t Black it’s Steel, John Steel.”

  There was a large burst of sparks from the cables, forcing the people to shield their eyes, and as they looked back to where Steel had stood they only saw an empty passageway.

  Fourteen days earlier...

  The rain came down heavy and hard, the streets became lakes and the sky above the port held grey mountainous clouds that crackled and flashed as a storm brewed within. It had been several weeks since Steel had arrived back home in England. The trip had been productive and fruitful.

  As he stood in the departure lounge, his gaze fell to the ships in the harbour. As he sipped the coffee he had just got from the small kiosk he looked out, catching a glimpse of his reflection as he did so. He wore a black suit with a black shirt, his maroon-coloured tie stood out against the dark of the backdrop of his suit and a pair of Oakley sunglasses that hugged the contours of his rugged, good looking features.

  As he lifted the cup to his lips, his face winced at the smell and taste of the strong brew. He smiled as thoughts of the Homicide Department back in New York came flooding back to him. A couple of weeks before, Steel had been placed with the NYPD on assignment. It had been a triple homicide, which had been masking a massive arms deal. It was just for one case, but he had the feeling things were not over. Not yet, so he would remain there for a little while longer.

  The lounge was full with families, tour groups, and people who just had to get away from it all. He did not fit into any of those categories. They were there for relaxation where he was there for answers. As he looked round at the happy couples who were laughing and the children running with excitement, everything seemed to slow down. His mind drifted to images of his wife and the memories rolled like scenes from an old film. As he watched his memories unfold, the most dominant image was that of his wife lying in their bed and rolling over to face him. She was smiling as he touched her face. His heart froze as the image distorted, and her eyes became cold and empty, then he felt a nudge as he was woken up. Reality crashed through the past and he came awake to find a little girl tugging at his trousers. As he looked down, somewhat startled by the whole affair, he noticed the girl, who was no more than six years old and he realised that the tender innocence of a child is not that it knows nothing but that it wants to know everything.

  “Hey, Mister, why are you so sad? Are you scared of boats?” Rosy cheeks masked her freckled face and her mousey-coloured hair was tied up into pigtails held together by bright pink bands with bobbles depicting ladybirds. He smiled at her, and he looked up just in time to see a woman rushing towards them; she knelt down and grabbed her daughter.

  She was tall and blonde, her dress was black and hugged her body, revealing every fake curve she had, but she wore both well.

  “I am so sorry, I hope she didn’t disturb you?” she said. Her voice was soft, with a hint of a London accent.

  “Not at all,” Steel replied, smiling back at the child. He noticed that her ring finger had a band of whiteness, which indicated she was divorced, and judging by the whiteness of the band a recent divorce at that. Steel, smiled and thought that since she was on this cruise her marital failure must have been lucrative for her.

  “It’s fine, really,” he reassured her. “I was just daydreaming, that’s all.” As Steel wore his sunglasses it gave him the freedom to watch without being noticed, but he did notice the mother checking him out, and as she raised an eyebrow he knew she liked what she saw, especially the lack of jewellery on his wedding finger, even the hint that he’d never worn a wedding ring for that matter.

  As she stood up from the kneeling position by her daughter’s side the woman straightened out her dress, pushing out her chest and flicking her long blonde locks.

  “Are you travelling alone, Mr...?” She reached out a hand to start the formal introductions and also decided to begin a friendly interrogation.

  Steel smiled and taking her hand gently, laid a kiss on the trembling knuckles.

  “Black, Antony Black, and yes I am travelling alone, bit of a business trip mixed with pleasure.” He smiled as he watched the woman turn red.

  “And you are?” The woman was pulled back to reality by her daughter, as she felt the pull on her dress. She laughed.

  “What? Sorry, I am Miss Wade but you can call me Julie and this little madam is Trish.” She dug her fingers into the top of the child’s shoulders, causing her to giggle and struggle out of the tickling grip.

  “Would all passengers please make their way to the promenade ready for boarding, thank you.” A tall thin grey-haired steward made the announcement, then placed the handset back and sat down next to his female colleague as they prepared for the mass of arriving passengers.

  “I hope we run into each other again, Mr. Black.” Steel smiled broadly.

  “Oh, something tells me that will be inevitable,” he replied.

  He bowed slightly with his right hand over his chest, saying, “Madam.”

  Trish giggled and returned the bow. ‘Madam’ Julie smiled and, blushing, she made for the desk, completely dazzled by the charming stranger’s behaviour.

  Steel stood back and watched in wonderment at the cascade of people pushing through the desk in an almost manic need to be first, and he knew it would be the same when it came to disembarkation: the same people would be first off, and he smiled to himself and shook his head as he finished his coffe
e.

  As Steel passed outside and towards one of the three gantries he caught the full view of the massive floating city. The whole walkway had been covered by what appeared to be a long marquee, just to ensure that the six thousand passengers wouldn’t get wet before they started their cruise.

  The massive and wonderful ship held nineteen decks and lay two thousand, seven hundred feet long, and the floating colossus was a remarkable sight, its white gloss walls giving way to the glass balconies of the apartments and the yellow lifeboats housed below the living quarters. As Steel entered the vessel, he saw before him a grand staircase which led to the third deck. Reaching the floor, he noticed it opened out into a massive auditorium. The floors were covered with marble tiles and brass fittings curved round the information desk which stood at a far wall.

  The ceiling rose up to around eight feet, the room itself had an abundance of touch screen information boards, large potted plants, and palm trees. Steel looked at his information pack he had received at checkin, which was more like a flight checkin than the welcoming pack for a cruise ship.

  He was in one of the suites on Deck Seventeen, and he stood for a moment to get his bearings and watched the masses rush here and there as though the whole ship was about to be closed down in five minutes. He chuckled to himself, pondering on the fact that these people had fourteen days to explore but felt the need to see everything now.

  A steward in a white uniform approached him,

  “Can I help you, sir?” Steel turned and showed his key card displaying his room number.

  “You’re on Deck Seventeen, Mr.... er ...Black,” the steward told him.

  “The elevators are just over there.” Steel thanked the man and made his way through the chaos towards the safety of the glass elevator. As he headed past a brass post he caught the reflection behind him, noticing that the steward was on his cell phone and watching Steel head away. He thought nothing of it and just put it down to his soldier’s paranoia.

  Standing in front of his door he drew out the key card and slipped it into the slot. A green LED flicked on and a click signalled that he could enter. The room was large with a king-sized bed and furnishings fit for a four-star hotel; at the far end of the room a blaze of sunshine showed the sliding glass doors to his balcony. Throwing his suitcase onto the bed, he approached the two sliding doors and pushed the blue-and-white curtains aside. Outside looked cold and miserable but the warm climate inside made it feel very much more snug. He turned and crashed onto the bed, finding that it bounced slightly, indicating that it was a good mattress, to his taste anyway. Yes, the bed felt comfortable and inviting—possibly too inviting. He shot up off the bed. No, he thought. I’ve got to unpack. He opened the suitcase, blowing out a large breath to try and wake himself up.

  “First unpack,” he told himself,

  “and then check out the ship.” But then he lay down on the bed once again.

  Steel awoke with a start and quickly sat up as the ship’s horn bellowed its farewell to the port. “Cheers for that, you bastards!” he yelled as though anyone could hear him. He looked at his watch, finding that he had only been asleep for half an hour but it was a good half hour’s rest. Jumping off the bed he silently cursed himself for giving in to the comfort of the mattress but, as he unpacked at last, he smiled.

  At Herbert Walker Avenue, two large, long buildings lay next to the Test River. Their white walls housed the arrival and departures of the large cruise liners. Surrounding the buildings were a series of long-stay car parks and container storage for the large cargo ships. The clouds above gave a menacing ‘bon voyage’ to the floating city with crackles and low rumbles caused by the electrical storm within.

  With a roar of power a blacked-out Land Rover raced into the parking lot next to the cruise terminal and with a screech came to a halt. The vehicle was parked side-on to the water.

  Slowly the back window wound down, the sound of electrical gears assisting its descent. A pair of binoculars crept out and scanned the vessel, only the sound of the hum from the engine and the raindrops impacting with the metal of the vehicle broke the silence of the moment. As the ship pulled away down the river towards the mouth of the ocean, the car remained until the vessel was no longer visible by naked eye or binoculars. As the massive ship became a dot on the landscape, the car’s window wound up and with a spit of gravel, the Land Rover sped away.

  TWO

  Detective Samantha McCall sat at her desk in the Homicide Department of the NYPD. Even though she was tired from a full day of investigating a homicide downtown, her youthful good looks were still evident. As she proofread a report she had just finished typing on some scumbag murderer, her hand gently brushed the dark hair of her fringe behind her right ear. Her blue eyes scanned the document; satisfied the content was accurate she filed it. Picking up her coffee mug, she sat back in her chair and took a mouthful of the brew. Her eyes wandered to the empty chair next to her desk and stared at the void.

  Detective Joshua Tooms, a tall African-American guy, spotted the way she gazed wistfully at the vacant chair.

  “You miss him, don’t you?” he asked her.

  She looked up at him, still with the same clear-eyed expression, then she blinked.

  “No, I am trying to move the chair with my mind.” So saying, she shot him a fake grin, which suddenly soured.

  “But if you ever tell him, I’ll hurt you.”

  Joshua Tooms backed off, holding up his hands with a playful grin.

  “Yes, of course, Obi Wan.” She scowled back at him. He sat down in the chair.

  “So no word from our boy, huh?” he asked.

  McCall shook her head with a worried look on her face.

  “Don’t fret, girl, he’s probably been busy bustin’ some bad guys over there and shooting everything.” She smiled falsely.

  “Or he could be on a beach somewhere messing with some supermodels or something.” He chanced a glance out of the corner of his eye and caught her murderous look.

  “Okay, are we done for the night? I am beat and if I don’t make it home on time I am dead.” McCall shook her head confused for a moment, then she remembered, her eyes lighting up.

  “Oh God, it’s your anniversary! Go, man, go!” She shooed him out with a guilty smile. Picking up the file, she headed towards Detective Antony Marinelli, who was sitting at his desk looking uncomfortable.

  “Thought you would be heading out too?” she asked, confused until she saw the napkin on his desk. It was from a diner and as well as having the owners’ printed name there she could see a phone number scribbled in blue ink and what appeared to be red lipstick in the shape of a pair of luscious lips. Smiling, she stood behind him and looked down at her colleague.

  Looking back at her, he smiled and raised up the napkin.

  “Did you call her?” she asked.

  “Not yet.” He looked scared but forced a smile.

  McCall laughed and picked up the phone’s receiver, thrusting it towards him.

  “Call her. Hey, what’s the worst thing that could happen?”

  Taking the receiver in his hand, Tony froze for a moment. McCall laughed aloud, inspiring a hurt look in his eyes.

  “My God, Tony, you chase down murderers, you have taken on drug gangs when you were a NARC and you’ve done several tours in Iraq, but in the face of a pretty girl you crumble. Sad, but sweet!”

  He laughed, knowing she was right.

  “So call the girl, make a date then get out of here.” She winked at him and left him to talk.

  As she sat at her own desk McCall put down her coffee mug after taking several large mouthfuls, then she looked up from her emails, noticing that the bullpen was nearly empty. She sat back and blew out some air from her pursed lips. Her cell phone vibrated to life, and the blue glow from the display showed that it was Steel calling. At first, she was reluctant to answer, as he had not called or written for weeks. However, she picked it up and answered: “Steel. Wow, long time. How’s it going?�
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  Steel could make out the bluster of her words to cover her upset feelings and he felt bad, but he knew she would understand.

  “Hi, McCall, sorry I haven’t been in touch or anything.”

  “No it’s fine, you have been busy, I get it.” Her voice wobbled and he noticed it but he did not have time to pander to her feelings.

  “Look, something has come up and, well...” He hated to ask but this was important. “Can you check something for me?”

  She looked at the cell phone, stunned; she wanted to smash the thing to pieces, but just hearing his voice again gave her such a warm feeling she forgot about everything else.

  “Yeah sure, what is it?” She felt a lump in her throat swell but she fought back the emotion.

  “Can you check on a company called ‘Callan Industries’?”

  She jotted the name down on a post-it note and stuck it to her monitor.

  On the phone, McCall heard a loud horn blare in the background.

  “Hey, Steel, where are you anyway?”

  “Uhm, I am on a cruise ship at the moment.” His voice sounded awkward and she could tell he was embarrassed to be asking for a favour.

  “You’re living it up on a cruise and you want me to look up something for you?” She was stunned and upset.

  “McCall....Sam, it’s important. I hate to ask, and I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have to.”

  The line went dead. McCall had hung up.

  McCall threw the cell phone across the desk and screamed to herself.

  “Wow, that must have been Steel, ’cause only he can get to you like that.” The voice from Sam’s friend shocked her. McCall spun round in her chair to see Doctor Tina Franks standing there, her arms crossed, and dressed as if she was on the way to a party.

  “No word for weeks, then he phones to get me to check on something,” the detective growled through her teeth.