The room seemed contradictory itself. The wooden walls were decorated with various TV screens, broadcasting real-time footage from various flashpoints around the world. Tables made of oak and mahogany no longer held stacks of books – instead, people in suits and military uniforms sat round them with laptops and phones constantly going.

"Ah, Sharp! Good to see you finally made it!"

Sharp looked up to where the voice had come from. He saw, standing at the far end of the room facing a huge computer screen, was Colonel MacMillan. MacMillan started to walk over to Sharp, his walking stick adding a third ring which was out of time with his feet. As MacMillan reached Sharp, Sharp braced up but MacMillan quickly waved him down.

"No need to stand on ceremony boy," MacMillan said, offering his hand. Sharp took it.

"How's the leg, sir?"

"Still got a shit-ton of metal in it, but it's better than losing it, isn't it? Come on, there are some people that I want you to meet. This way."

MacMillan led Sharp past people who were poring over pages of documents. He knew that these people could be the only people in the entire world who were allowed to see what these documents said.

Eventually they reached a table surrounded by various high-ranking officers, but one stood out to Sharp more than the others. He was tall and dressed in US Army ACU camouflage, almost everyone else round the table was dressed in a suit. Even MacMillan was wearing a shirt and tie. MacMillan went round the table, introducing the spooks and finishing with the uniformed officer.

"Sharp, this is Lieutenant General Shepherd, supreme commander of US Forces in the Middle East." Sharp nodded to him as he had done to everyone else round the table but this wasn't enough for the General. He grabbed Sharp's hand and enthusiastically pumped it up and down.

"Sergeant Sharp, it is an honour and a privilege!" He beamed, still refusing to let go of Sharp's hand for several seconds beyond comfortable.

"It's so good to see a real soldier here with these office marines." Hearing this, MacMillan coughed abruptly and muscled his way so that he was next to Sharp. He leant over and picked up a map.

"Do you know where this is, son?" MacMillan asked, pointing at a city.

"That's Ahvaz, Iran."

General Shepherd shook his head. "That was Ahvez, Iran. Since the province was taken over by Khaled Al-Asad, the fucker renamed the city. That is now Al-Asad."

"This city is the major target for US forces in the Middle East," MacMillan said, "we take this city, the revolution in the province dissipates and the US gets to choose a nice democratic yes-man as President." He looked over at Shepherd at this last statement. Shepherd looked right back at him.

"Thomas Perry is here from MI6 with your mission brief." MacMillan stepped back and a young man in a navy blue suit stood opposite Sharp. He rummaged through the mess of files on the table and pulled out a photo. He gave it to Sharp, who studied it.

"These four bastards are known as the Four Horsemen. From right to left, Viktor Zakhaev, the Third Horseman. Commander of Ultranationalist ground forces. Bit of a daddy's boy. Problem is, his daddy's the Fourth Horseman. Imran Zakhaev. Former arms dealer. I say former because General MacMillan did a number on him fifteen years ago. Isn't that right, General?"

"I'm never going to forget that in a hurry," MacMillan grunted, tapping the metal plate in his leg with a pen, making a clanging noise.

"Now, those two chaps are nice and all, but they're out of our jurisdiction. Viktor Zakhaev is holed up in Russia and, well, the dead don't do much in the way of arms dealing. It's these other two that are our main priority.

"Horseman number two is the next fella. Khaled Al-Asad. Killed the former President and took over, with a bunch of armed nasties backing him up. We have reason to believe that he is still near his city. CIA and MI6 are working together to come up with potential locations."

"How many do you have?" Shepherd interrupted.

"Last count, about ninety safehouses."

"Ninety?! Sweet Jesus man, we don't have time to knock on ninety doors!"

"We're narrowing it down, bear with us General." The young man's composure had been shaken up by the General's sudden attack and took a deep breath before continuing.

"Like I say, he's believed to be near the city. Now, the First Horseman is the one that really interests us, the chap on the far left."

Sharp looked down at the photo. Imran Zakhaev looked to be in quite an involved conversation with him. All Sharp could make out was that he had dark brown/black hair; the rest of his face was obscured by a red cross. He was wearing a grey ops waistcoat and a dark grey and black outfit. Sharp looked up.

"What's the deal? Why the permanent marker over the face?"

The Intelligence Officer looked down and adjusted his tie.

"The photo is old. Previous Intelligence Officers took one look at the photo and declared him a nobody, a foot soldier for the Horsemen. We now know that's rubbish. His name is Vladimir Makarov. He's a major player on the Ultranationalist front. The problem is, we don't know how major. From reports, him and Zakhaev senior went way back, some sort of student-mentor thing. We have multiple confirmations that Makarov has been sighted in the Al-Asad area. This means that, along with Khaled Al-Asad, that two-thirds of the surviving Horsemen are within 200 square miles of each other.

"Your mission is as follows. You are to patrol to predetermined locations, where you will perform reconnaissance on the area. You are looking for evidence pertaining to any of the Horsemen, though focussing on the two Horsemen. Deniability is the word of the millennium, chaps. No unnecessary contact and remain undetected."

Sharp finally spoke up.

"What if we have a clear shot on either Horseman?"

"The general order is no kill/capture. That said, the bigger picture may change when you are in the field so if you have a clear shot, contact Headquarters and we'll assess the situation."

The Intelligence Officer pointed at a man in a blue blazer and chinos.

"I'm sure you have met Lieutenant James Buckle before, both of you being Regiment and all that."

Lieutenant Buckle leant forward and shook Sharp's hand.

"Lieutenant Buckle will be patrol i/c. You are patrol 2 i/c. I'll let you two sort out the finer points of your mission. The First Horseman, Makarov, has callsign Hotel-1-0. The Second Horseman, Al-Asad, has callsign Hotel-2-0. Your patrol callsign is Alpha-0. Other callsigns will be delivered to you at a later date. Good luck gentlemen."

Sharp nodded again at the figures round the table, before MacMillan grabbed his arm and pulled him and Lieutenant Buckle away.

"You'd best get up to Hereford fellas. Sign out whatever kit you need. Anything you can't get from Hereford will be forwarded to your FOB out in the Middle East. The two of you can get together and choose your patrol from the roster. I'm afraid I'm staying in London so here is where I am going to have to leave you."

"Thank you sir." Both Sharp and Buckle shook MacMillan's hand and left.