Chapter 22, Location, location, location
In her office, Mrs. Jones rubbed her temples distractedly. Blunt stood looking out the window whilst an MI6 technician worked silently in a corner of the room. He wore a headset and was replaying a sound file on a laptop; it contained Mrs. Jones' latest call. The call with Erin. The technician suddenly stiffened, mouthing something quietly to himself. Then, he looked up. Mrs. Jones and Alan Blunt were alert straight away.
"It wasn't easy, she had a scrambler code on the call, but I got a set of final co-ordinations on Erin's call location." The technician said, nervously avoiding everyone's eye. There was something bad going on here, he knew it even without the misgivings he felt about working against a 15 year old.
Alan Blunt didn't seem to share his hesitancy; he immediately turned to his deputy.
"Send the data to the SAS team right now!" He snapped. The technician raised a brow, the amount of emotion betrayed in his boss' voice was unusual and that was a severe understatement. Something very bad must be happening for Blunt to be worrying like this. Mrs. Jones nodded and picked her phone up and started shooting out directions to whoever was on the line rapid-fire. Blunt turned to face the technician.
"Good job, you may go now. Just make sure you send me the mayor's number within the hour. It is exceedingly important that I get in touch now that we have our coordinates." He said, blinking slowly in what the technician assumed was supposed to be a calming measure. The man nodded, packed his equipment into a metal briefcase and left the room, hastening to escape the dark, uneasy atmosphere that was slowly spreading throughout the entire building.
In the office, Blunt was being ignored by Mrs. Jones, they both knew they couldn't afford so much as seconds on being polite when so much was at stake. Mind categorically going through the countless strategies and plans that inhabited it, Blunt walked to the huge window that dominated Mrs. Jones' office. As it had for the last two weeks, rain poured outside, leaving long rivulets of water that dripped slowly down the glass. Feeling oddly drained, Alan Blunt let out a tiny sigh and stared out the window ponderously. He very much hoped that the SAS team's mission went successfully. It shouldn't be too hard when they had the exact location of their target. Yassen, Erin and Alex were like mice trapped in a cage with a snake. The trio had no where to run.
"Got them." Blunt muttered out loud.
A/N sorry for the short chappie, but it's only meant to be a brief snapshot of what's happening in London. I know a few people are wondering what Blunt meant by 'Give me the mayor's number.' Well, it's not the number of the mayor of London (does London have a mayor?). All the other things that probably didn't make much sense in this chappie (Like the sense of urgency that was dictating much of the character's actions) are going to be explained later on. They're all of crucial importance to story, so don't disregard these little conversations and sentences as slip up's in my writing. They're not.
Anyway, thanks for reading the chappie and being so patient. I give all my loyal readers a fervent thankyou; this wouldn't be any fun if it weren't for the responses I get from you.