Find The Queen

 209.

Sleep improbable, I consider the difference between hitting the ground running and landing in full stride. The news from the Neurologist has certainly tossed a monkey-wrench into the works, dialing up our need for speed to max. I decide to prepare a more formalized presentation to the group than initially planned. If there is someone out there still stalking us they most likely have sufficient motivation and reason to do so. Additionally, the possibility exists that they may attempt to 'bargain' their hostage, putting The Queen at even greater risk than her current scenario. Either way, we need several solid answers and actionable updated intel.

Our reunion is pleasant and business like, all parties veterans of our many campaigns together. The cast; Drysdale, Davis, Saunders, Harlan, Julie and myself represent as good a core group of professionals as you could find, military or civilian, every one from a special forces background with field experience and law enforcement training. I trust them completely.

We have all filled our plates with the breakfast served up by the galley staff; potatoes, scrambled eggs, toast along with steaming mugs of industrial strength coffee, a re-fueling with high octane motivation. Saunders sits opposite me and I notice she is favoring her right arm as she struggles somewhat with her fork, obviously using her off-side. I received the information on the flight that she took a sniper shot in the right shoulder, shattering the scapula and causing massive damage to her dominant side neuromuscular system. Being alone at the time the only evidence comes from the ballistics of the spent shell casing, resulting in a dead-end forensic inquiry.

"How is the shoulder? I ask as sensitively as possible.

"Still healing, and much better than last week, had another procedure to remove scar tissue," she informs us in an impressive objective tone. Her honesty removes all doubt as to her commitment to the team. The silence that follows this brief exchange amplifies our dedication to both our cause and to each other. As I consider this, the silence is broken as Davis jumps in, still on-topic but redirected at me.

"And how are you, sir? He asks looking above and beyond his porcelain mug.

I am completely unprepared to provide an accurate prognosis and fall into the trap of opening with a oral pause followed by a negative, "Ah, well, I guess you could say I've been better, but, we did get some good news about an hour ago from the hospital. A experimental new procedure I have been selected to, ah, partake in." Wanting to change the subject I redirect the conversation to the matters at hand.

"The new re-org and teams for the follow-on campaign are: Harlan and Julie in Admin and communications in DC, Myself and Drysdale, and Davis and Saunders. Admin will liaise with the DoD and Senator Hartaugh as well as keeping us up to speed with data analysis. Drysdale and I are going to SAR Her Majesty and Davis and Saunders will resume surveillance of Adelson and his crew. These combined will no doubt yield enough credible intel to move us closer to the objective."

"So you feel that the mission hasn't been compromised?" Saunders asks.

"They may know who we are, and it is obvious that they consider us threats to whatever agenda they have, but they don't know what we plan, outside of the face value legal implications." I reply.

"We don't know, yet, if our covers are blown or if the ambush was part of something completely outside of the initial operation. Or even related. Personally I don't think Adelson would bite the hand that feeds his greed, and by all indications there was no security breach. Leaving us with one prime directive."

They all know what that directive is without me saying it aloud.

Julie comes to my rescue, rising to the dramatic occasion, and issues the order with a mere three words:

"Find The Queen."