Jack Be Nimble: Gargoyle by English Ben

Author:English, Ben [English, Ben]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller, gargoyle, novel, mormon, mormon author, jack be nimble gargoyle, Jack Flynn, technothriller, Mercedes, Dean Koontz, Ben English, Jack Be Nimble
Published: 2011-06-28T06:00:00+00:00

All the King’s Horses and All the King’s Men

Paris

10AM

Jack leaned back as far as the balcony rail allowed, considering the file before him. The three of them sat at his customary table at the corner of the terrace, where Vincenzo had long ago arranged the overhead canopy to block out any prying eyes.

Alonzo and the Major ate quietly, scrutinizing the boulevard below. The tagliatelle verdi and frittata were delicious, though Jack picked at them absentmindedly as he pored over the documents stamped with the seal of MI-5, the internal arm of British Secret Intelligence. Several small bottles of Sanpellegrino carbonated water turned double-duty, weighing the pages to the table. Jack lifted one and motioned to a nearby waiter. “Marcello? Another aranciata, per piacere?” His mouth had gone dry.

He shuffled the papers back into chronological order and skimmed once again over the pertinent details.

A week before, the Princess Christine, only child of Britain’s Royal Family, had arrived with her guards at the family estate of Balmoral Castle in Scotland. She had traveled in a modified Sikorsky transport helicopter, what the American Navy was calling a Super Stallion these days. She spent the holiday with her parents, who left early for a press conference or to preside at the opening of some cheese factory or another. No member of the Royal Family travels with another, for obvious security reasons. In the company of fifteen security agents, plus the regular contingent of Scotland Yard detectives and other employees of the Crown, the Princess had spent two days “larking about with her ponies” under the direct supervision of more than one hundred people, according to the report. The last recorded contact with the security team at Balmoral occurred at one a.m. two days ago. A brief lightning storm and the resulting atmospheric disturbance made all contact with Balmoral’s team impossible between four and four thirty the following morning. Radar coverage of the area had been blanked for nearly an hour. Jack skimmed over the transcripts of the attempts to contact the team by radio and phone, seeing nothing. They knew exactly what they were doing, he realized, to have been that ready to act during the storm.

At five o’clock three squads of marines from the nearby Royal Navy base converged on the grounds, to be greeted with utter silence. Only one man, an outer perimeter guard, had been found alive, wedged into a pocket of rock on a cliff overlooking the castle. He had yet to regain consciousness. Everyone else at Balmoral from the resident security chief down to the two stableboys had been coldly, efficiently murdered. They found the Secret Air Service guards posted outside Her Highness’ door with their pistols drawn and readied, but not a shot fired.

It was as if Death had scythed through them like a wind.

The only thing missing from the grisly tableau was the Sikorsky, its pilot, and the Princess. Her personal kidnap recovery device, a microchip-sized telemetry burst transmitter hardwired into a bracelet she wore, was found in a saddlebag on one of the horses, where sufficient body heat would keep the alarm from sounding.

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