Dead Edge: the gripping political thriller for fans of Lee Child. Jack Ford

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Dead Edge: the gripping political thriller for fans of Lee Child - Jack  Ford


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so this job came through last week. They came to us because Onyx has a worldwide reputation of being the best in the business.’

      Taking a long, drawn-out pull of his cigar and letting the smoke slowly twist and rise over his face to hit the brim of his cowboy hat, Rosedale winked, ‘So you like to say.’

      ‘Put that out, or at least open the window. And you can give me one whilst you’re at it. And don’t say anything about I shouldn’t be smoking, I’ll look after my own Goddamn health if it’s all the same with you. Plus, for your information, I don’t just like to say. It’s a fact. We are the best, No job is too big or…

      ‘… too much trouble.’

      The fork was pointed at Rosedale. ‘Is my business a joke to you, Rosedale? Because if it is, you can get the hell out too… Now, this job. It’s sensitive. So no questions. No straying from the objective. And yes, that’s directed at you, Cooper. What we have is a missing ship. A small general cargo ship, owned by a Turkish company.’

      Maddie said, ‘What’s their business?’

      ‘Import and export. Shipping everything from olives to live stock.’

      ‘That’s what you call sensitive?’ Maddie asked.

      ‘Look, to tell you the truth, I don’t care if it’s olives, meatloaf or Goddamn waffles they’re into. If I say you treat this job as sensitive, that’s exactly what you do… It’s not the usual kind of job where the bank is owed, or a private firm wants their money. Nobody owes anything. Probably the first time we’ve ever had that, but as our success rate in locating high value assets from all over the world is markedly greater than those of our competitors, it makes sense for a company to contact us, for tracing purposes only… The ship’s believed to be at a location just off the coast of Tubruq, Libya. In fact they’ve given me the ship’s coordinates.’

      ‘If they’ve got the coordinates then how can it be lost?’

      Granger banged his fist down on his walnut desk and wasn’t too perturbed to see his lunch box, along with wilted salad, knocked onto the floor. There and then he decided there’d be nothing else for it, he’d have to go and get a crusty sub. ‘Jesus Christ, Cooper, I told you not to ask questions.’

      ‘Come on, Granger, there’s asking questions and then there’s common sense. Why don’t they go and see themselves?’

      ‘Enough, okay… This is the deal: the coordinates show the ship is roughly twenty miles off the coast of Libya, but the shipping company can’t be one hundred percent sure it’s there.’

      ‘They’ve never heard of tracking? AIS tracking? LRIT equipment? The crew must have radioed in vessel data position at least every six hours?’ Maddie mused.

      ‘What is it with you people? No questions. This is what they want.’

      ‘Come on, Granger, you’re asking us to go and fetch a ship off the coast of Libya and do a job without knowing details.’

      ‘Actually, Maddie, I’m not asking you to take back the ship to them. I’m asking you to go and see if it’s there.’

      ‘But then you want us to take it back to port, right?’

      ‘No. The specific orders are not to board the ship.’

      ‘What?’

      Granger, red faced now, shook his head. ‘The brief is, go and speak to the owner. Then go to the location. See if it’s there. Report back to the owner. Period.’

      ‘But…’

      ‘No Maddie, no more. But for your information – and this is only so you’ll shut the hell up – all the tracking and long range radios are turned off. That’s all I know myself.’

      ‘I don’t get it. They can’t. There are regulations.’

      ‘They can and they did, and it’s not for you to get. It’s for you to do your Goddamn job.’

      Maddie pushed some more. ‘But what about the crew?’

      ‘What about them?’

      ‘Well, what happened to them?’

      Granger shuffled in his seat, and shuffled the papers on his desk, though Maddie suspected his uncomfortable look was less to do with his positioning and more to do with what he was holding back on.

      ‘Broadly speaking, Maddison, they got into trouble.’

      ‘What kind of trouble? And why didn’t they radio coast guards for help? Or failing that at least send out a signal? Someone would’ve come. To quote the UN Maritime Convention on the Law of the Sea…’

      As quickly as possible, because he certainly wasn’t in any kind of mood to listen to Maddie quote anything, much less maritime law, Granger cut in. ‘Spare us on that one.’

      ‘Well, my point is if they’d signaled for help the other boats and ships around would’ve proceeded to render assistance.’

      Granger got up from his chair and walked across the room to the door and with something like relief, opened it and signaled for them to leave. ‘Unlike you, Maddison, they listened to orders. Now if you wouldn’t mind, I need to make a phone call.’

      ‘I’m not following.’

      ‘Maddison, the crew’s orders were not to radio for help under any circumstances… Now look, I’ve told you everything I can. You, Rosedale and Cooper will be leaving on Thursday, you’ll get all the other details later today. Levi, you’ll be doing the usual administration and base support stuff here at home. I’m flying to New York tonight so I won’t see you till you all get back. But let me say this. You three, I’m warning you. God knows I am. Locate the boat, then just come back here. That’s it. That’s the objective. Nothing else. Just do your job.’

       USA

       20

      hg3 Nh5

      Chuck wasn’t sure what it was about the White House coffee but it always tasted as if it’d been made with a splash of resentment. A spoonful of democratic antipathy towards anybody who wasn’t a liberal sympathizer.

      Putting his cup down, he faced President Woods. Crossed his mind how well the man looked, compared to the last time he’d seen him when he’d looked positively ill. Not that the President’s health was his concern, nor problem. His problem was Woods’ policies, which hindered, restricted, curtailing his ability to protect the country he’d spent his life trying to protect.

      Frustrated, Chuck snapped the top onto the silver fountain pen he never used. Faded away from his own thoughts and faded back up into the conversation, to hear – for what must have been the eighth, ninth time, in less than half an hour – the words ‘no way’ from the supposed people’s President.

      ‘No way, Chuck. Abdul-Aziz bin Hamad? He’s affiliated with Al Qaeda. No. We discussed it a few weeks ago at length and my same reply stands; it’s not even on the table.’

      ‘So you keep saying, Mr President, but I don’t understand your stance on this. Prisoner swaps, prisoner release, lifting sanctions and negotiation. These are nothing new. I don’t have to give you a history lesson but it’s been going on since the time of George Washington.’

      ‘And in some kind of shape and form it’ll continue, but prisoners who the United States government deem to be terrorists, will no longer be used as high value negotiation chips.’

      Chuck looked around at those present. Woods, Lyndon, who thankfully was keeping quiet and Teddy, Chief of Staff. ‘You know what keeps me awake at night, Mr President? It’s how to keep America


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