Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Mexico City International Airport. 12 p.m. Local time

Two government officials dressed in tight fitting suits and guns in their hands stormed the plane the moment they landed.

The air hostess called for everyone to remain calm and still over the tanoid, first in their native language and once again in English.

No one failed to notice that she remained at the front of the aircraft as the two men progressed quickly down left-hand aisle.

Some passengers had their hands on the seat in front whilst others had raised their arms into the air but the two men weren't looking at any of them, and as they passed everyone could see the communication devices that protruded from their ears slightly.

Everyone they passed turned to look after them, waiting to see where they stopped and what they were looking for.

They soon got their wish when the two men reached a row in the middle of the plane. They raised their guns at a young dark-haired man as they began to shout in English, "Carlos Ramirez! Carlos Ramirez! Get your hands in the air!"

"Hey- Whoa, alright!" Came the passenger's reply as he found two government-issued handguns pointed at his face. His hands were already resting on the seat in front of him but rather than receive a bullet to the head he raised them into the air and complied, something told him these blokes weren't messing about.

The two men looked him over before demanding to know if his name was Carlos Ramirez.

"No, man, my name's Dylan Beckett." As he said it he knew that it wasn't what they wanted to hear as they shared a concerned look with each other.

"It is seat 32B, yes?" One man asked the other, perplexed, lowering his gun. Dylan began to breathe a little easier.

The other man nodded but kept his gun raised.

Dylan swallowed around the lump in his throat, he could feel the woman beside him trembling and it wasn't helping his own nerves.

"Let me see your boarding pass," The man who had lowered his gun told Dylan, stretching out his hand for it.

Dylan licked his dry lips and looked to the man with the gun. He hesitantly started to lower his hands but when no gunshot rang out he took it that he had permission to move. Dylan reached into his jeans pocket and produced a plain white ticket, his heart beat pounding against his chest.

Taking the ticket off him - Dylan instantly raising his hands once again - the man looked at the name stamped across the front of it before showing his partner.

'CARLOS RAMIREZ' was the name stamped across the ticket.

"Who gave this to you?" The man asked Dylan.

"Some guy outside the airport in London," Dylan spoke fast, "He was meant to go on some type of business trip but his wife went into labour. He gave me the ticket instead."

"And you just took it?" The other man asked as he lowered his gun, obviously thinking that Dylan was a few pennies short of a pound.

Dylan simply shrugged, as if that was answer enough. Afterall, who was going to give up on a free holiday?

One of the men laughed and Dylan released a shaky breath of relief, he felt as if he had passed some sort of test, whilst the other lifted a hand and pressed at the ear piece.

"Have you got him?" A demanding female voice instantly shouted in his ear.

The man winced slightly. He was sure half the plane had heard her.

"No," He replied into the microphone at his collar, "He gave his ticket to someone else to board the plane for him."

Sam sat at a desk in the operation room and stared at the screen where different video feeds and statistics were still playing, unable to comprehend his words.

"Ramirez isn't here." The British MI5 agent posted to Mexico City added after a moment.

Sam spun around in her chair and looked towards Michael's office at the back of the room. She bet he was stood on the other side of the one-way glass staring right back at her.

"It's a decoy." Sam replied.

"What do you want us to do with the passenger?"

Sam was already on her feet as she replied, "Take him into custody. Find out what he knows about Carlos Ramirez and report back."

"You got it. Alright, come on-" The feed ended as Sam wrenched the headpiece off and strode into Michael Truro's office without knocking.

She was right. He was stood at the window and she allowed herself a small smirk, but he continued to give her his back.

"Ramirez wasn't on the plane. The whole thing was a decoy." Sam explained.

"Isn't he?" Michael sighed, his voice void of interest at her predicament.

"So where the hell is he!?" Sam demanded to know when a worse thought entered her mind.

Hurrying across the room, Sam grabbed the phone from his desk and hurriedly typed in the number from memory.

Michael now turned to look at her with a deep scowl.

"Yes?" A large man with a bald head answered around a mouthful of coffee.

Sam could hear him slurping from the coffee mug he had in his hand.

"Trent, it's Samantha McAndrew," She spoke fast.

"Ma'am," He replied quickly, sitting up in his seat and plashing some hot coffee across his trousers.

"Storm the house," Sam gave him the order. Michael arched an eyebrow at her from across the room but said nothing.

"Pardon?" Trent looked to his colleague who was sat beside him with concern.

"Storm the house," Sam repeated with annoyance, "I want Reynolds and Langdale found now!"

"Yes, boss." Trent's voice returned to its obedient tone.

"Call me when it's done." Sam hung up and let out a small breath.

Where the hell was Ramirez?

"Problem, dear?" Michael's voice asked and Sam looked up in shock. She had quite forgotten that he was there.

"Carlos Ramirez wasn't on the flight that you flagged down," It made Sam feel better to blame someone else. Perhaps, that was why her boyfriend never took any responsibility for anything.

Michael held up his hands as if to say that these things happen, but they didn't happen to Samantha McAndrew of MI5.

"He paid for the ticket out of his account. You told me to track his accounts and that's what I did. I just passed the information on to you," Michael pulled at his suit jacket and took a seat behind his desk.

"Yeah, well, you can forget about that drink." Sam scoffed but she did a double take when she saw the expression that crossed his face.

His eyes flickered to the ground and refused to meet hers for a brief moment.

The next five minutes passed in silent tension as Sam stared at the phone on his desk, praying for it to ring and save her.

"What are you going to do with Reynolds and Langdale?" Michael coughed, "You are going to have to expose the investigation to them now that you've 'stormed their house,'" Michael clearly disapproved of her rash thinking.

But Sam needed to know if she had simply lost one bird or if they had all flown the proverbial nest.

"If it comes to that, then that's what I'll do. Maybe they can give me some bloody straight answers-"

Sam was interrupted by the sound of the phone on Michael's desk ringing.

Sam lunged and picked the phone up from the cradle.

"Be my guest," Michael muttered as she helped herself.

Sam rolled her eyes at him, "Trent?"

"They're not here," Trent replied.

"What do you mean they're not there?" Sam growled.

"It means that their clothes and toiletries are missing, and they're not here. They must have slipped out last night when we were changing shifts."

"Go through everything and see if you can find where they've gone," Even as Sam said she knew that they wouldn't find anything.

She was quickly getting the picture that whatever program Ramirez and Reynolds were involved in it included some high-end training on how to disappear.

"Bad news?" Michael asked but there was a hint of a smirk to his lips as he said it.

Sam narrowed her eyes at him.

"What a shame, anyway would you mind closing the door on your way out or was there another phone call that you would like to make?" Michael arched an eyebrow.

She knew he was lashing out at her earlier comment but she couldn't care any less right then. She had a bigger problem on her hands.

Turning around and storming out of the office, as best she could in three inch heels anyway, she navigated her way through the operations room trying to think of a way to salvage her investigation.

She couldn't just wait for the trio to turn up; they could go underground and change their names in a matter of weeks. She may never find them again.

No, she had to act now.

What was so damn important about this program that they had to run off in the middle of the night?

As she waited outside the elevator doors, a dangerous idea drifted into Samantha's mind.

The more she thought about it the more she knew that it was a risky move but what else did she have?

Two of the remaining programs participants had disappeared and the other two were dead. Who was left for her to ask?

The elevator pinged and the metal doors slid open to let her inside.

As she crossed its threshold, Sam made her decision.

She would find the only man left to know anything about the program and direct her questions to him.

General Ridgeway was returning to Britain on business in the next few days. She would ask him then.