London, United Kingdom
Harold Manchester entered the living room, Uncle Roland behind him. The six of us stood up and saluted in response, the commander of the SAS returning the gesture soon after. "I am the commander of the SAS regiment stationed in Burqa." he introduced himself. "Harold Manchester."
"Sir." Timothy was the first to react out of the three who had just known the commander. "I have heard of you before."
"You are one of the Marines back then on the battlefield in Syria." the commander said. "I recognize your name : Timothy Brock."
"Yes sir." he replied. The commander's gaze darted between the two unresponsive men.
"I don't know you both." the commander said.
"This is a problem commander." I said. "They showed up at the wrong place at the wrong time. We have to bring them because of the risk." the commander nodded.
"Major, the team has been disbanded but the information is still confidential material." he said. "But I'm sure you lads know your way around." Uncle Roland's eyes scanned both men thoroughly, high awareness and guard on detail. The six of us nodded and the commander gently patted on the MI6 chief's shoulder. He then gave him a stoic nod and the commander departed.
"Get yourselves settled first. We have work to do." Uncle Roland then said. He left the room, leaving the nine of us seated in the living room. But we looked at each other, unsure whether or not to start a conversation. Gerry gently cleared his throat and his cousin, Dominic, casts a glance at him.
"We practically knew each other in this room." he said. "Except you." he glanced at Richard.
"Gerald." I frowned. "I said that I will explain." he nodded. Then I inhaled a large breath of fresh air and laid back, my gaze sweeping past Luke and Richard.
Ottawa, Canada (No P.O.V)
Sitting at the outdoor patio of the cafe overlooking the Office of the Prime Minister Bruce gently sipped the cup of coffee he ordered an hour ago. Something happened to Isa recently, on a physical scale. He looked through the medical reports and started to worry, because, the woman he loved, could be pregnant with his child. Her conditions adds up, the constant dizziness, always thinking about resting early and limit physical workouts. Although he is not a doctor he knows that these things are related to pregnancy. They've talked about this before, in front of her father. If Isabella is really pregnant he couldn't help but wonder their family's reactions. If I am really pregnant, I will be very happy. she said. But I promised your son that I will not carry your child. The words hurt like hell, he can see it through her expressions. Taking out a photo from the pocket of his jacket he focused his gaze on the photo. In the photo Isabella was smiling, leaning against the railing of the observatory of the Eiffel Tower in France.
This was their holiday in France after their wedding. He brought her there after noting her distraught upon the loss of her friend. He wasn't jealous, and neither does Isa. If she is really pregnant, he wanted her to keep the child. "... Bruce?" a voice knocked him out from his reverie. He turned to the source of the voice and looked.
"It's you." he said. Clark Kent adjusted his glasses while the woman standing next to him, Diana Prince, did nothing.
"I didn't expect to see you here." Diana said.
"What are you two doing here?" Bruce asked, maintaining his cool.
"We're... on a case."
"I'm leaving." Bruce then replied, waving at the nearby waiter for the bill. But his eyes stopped at the television screen installed in the cafe. The headlines of the local news : Vice President of the United States Missing After Car Crash. He froze on the spot, unable to move his gaze away and plugging his ears from listening to the host describing the situation. Then a few cars stopped at the road curb outside the patio. Men in suits disembarked and approached him.
"Mr. Wayne." one of them said, holding up his badge, indicating his identity. "We're from the Secret Service. The President has asked for your return, because the vice president has gone missing." he then said, deadpan. Bruce said nothing and followed them, climbing into one of the cars and not saying goodbye to his friends and teammates who were just standing beside him when the agent broke the news to him.
YOU ARE READING
The Memorial Day Murders
Mystery / ThrillerA series of murders which all of the victims are tied to their involvement in the war in Afghanistan puts the remaining members of Elite Alpha, a now disbanded black ops team led by deceased Lieutenant General Gerald Forest hot on the killer's trail.