Chapter 6

"This is the captain," the voice coming over the intercom seemed stressed "ladies and gentlemen we are about to arrive at the gate, when we do I would ask that you all remain in your seats, there seems to be an electrical issue and we will need to reset the system. When we do this it will black out the cabin for approximately one minute. There is no need to be alarmed, please remain in your seats until the lights come back on." The captain finished.

Michael looked around the cabin, people seemed tense but not overtly so, the captain was a smart man, waiting till now to let people know of an issue.

It had been an illuminating flight for Michael, from the pain of the attack by the oriental woman to the understanding that something ... different was in contact with him, had put him on edge for the entire flight.

There was no further contact from the other; it was the strangest feeling Michael had ever experienced. Several times throughout his life he had experienced a sense of de ja vu, a tickling feeling in the back of his head when a specific action was good or bad.

Following those gut instincts had kept him out of a great deal of trouble. Now it had changed, it was an actual sentient being speaking to him, guiding him, yes; it had been a hell of flight.

"Alpha Leader to Tango Leader do you copy," even the hushed tones reverberated around the tight space of the boarding ramp as it rolled up to the door of flight 969.

"Tango this is Alpha, over" the answer came back through the ear bud hidden within the black mask that covered the young Lieutenants face.

"Tango, insertion in 10, expect package to be delivered your location in 45, be ready for transport, out."

It had been four hours ago when Lieutenant Sims had gotten the flash message about a mission and rushed over to the CC to get the details.

Commander Longfield looked at the six men assembled in the briefing room, knowing before he started that they would not appreciate this little gem.

"Gentleman, at approximately 09:25 flight 969 from New York to London will arrive at Heathrow's gate 57. Upon arrival the plane will go dark, at that point Mr. Sim's squad will enter the aircraft, secure the passenger in seat 3 first class. You will escort this passenger out of the plane, down the emergency exit in the gate and hand him off to Mr. Patrick's squad for transport to local law enforcement at hangar 12." Upon finishing, Longfield looked up from his notes to see six disappointed men glaring back at him.

"Jesus Christ, since when do they call out two SAS special ops squads to grab one guy off an airplane, couldn't they have sent the bloody boy scouts?" Lt. Patrick snorted as the two teams sat in the Blackhawk on the way to Heathrow.

It rubbed them all the wrong way; operations like this were seen as a huge waste of time and personnel by those involved.

Most had seen heavy combat, all had years of training, provided by her majesty's government, to go out and be the mailed fist of the empire.

To be babysitters simply increased their tension, it was like sending a pit bull into a fight against a Chihuahua, not even worth doing.

Counting down in his head, Lt. Sims timed the docking perfectly.

Alistair popped the door of the jumbo jet just as the interior of the plane went dark.

Stepping in Sims instantly got a fix on the mark. 'Jeez, is this guy radioactive or what," thought Sims as he stepped the 4 paces over to the passenger.

Bending quickly he whispered, "We are here to get you off this plane, please move quickly."

Curling his hand around the mans bicep Sims was amazed at the feeling of raw power that was transmitted through the simple touch, 'this guy is like solid rock, ' he thought to himself.

That feeling and the bright aura that surrounded this guy through the night vision goggles made Lt. Sims think twice about this being a waste of time.

Michael only thought for an instant before he stood to a crouch and moved out of the plane with his handler.

Had this happened yesterday he would never have gone this quietly, however, with no nagging warning from the other he was confident that there was no danger.

Thirty-two seconds after the door opened, Michael was handed over to another black clad man who hustled him into a waiting H1. It was all a bit surreal for Michael, but no more so than the rest of flight had been so he sat and waited to see what was next.

The gentleman in the suit introduced himself as Detective Arthur Collins, Scotland Yard.

"Mr. Dane, sorry about the quick exit from the plane, we had reason to believe there were problems on the flight and we wanted to make sure you, and several other passengers got off the plane as ... expediently as possible," the detective said.

Michael was sitting in a small office inside a large hangar in the maintenance section of the airfield. Offered coffee or water they were treating him as though he was someone of interest, this puzzled him as he listened to the detective continue.

"We are not at liberty to disclose much of the story, however I can tell you that you are not under any type of suspicion. We have an interest in several passengers on the plane and wanted to ask you just a few questions prior to letting you go on your way." The detective said as he sat across the desk from Michael.

Taking out a pen and notebook he continued. "Did you notice anything strange during the flight?" the detective asked.

How to answer that question, Michael thought, making up his mind he said, "I don't really think so, the flight seemed like any other, I can't say that anything really caught my attention."

The questions continued for about a half an hour, it turns out that they had received several credible tips that terrorists had targeted this flight either to commandeer the plane or to try and gain entry into the UK.

Michael noted that during his interview several other passengers from other sections of the plane were brought to the hangar and questioned by other detectives.

In the end, while strange, Michael felt that it was just one more odd item in a trip filled with unique circumstances.

The detective thanked Michael for his help, apologized again and after retrieving his luggage from the plane called him a cab. It was a strange end to a very strange day.

Ian watched the video feeds of the extraction from the airplane as well as the video of Michael's interview. Even on the screen his aura seemed to be different, brighter with a purple hue that Ian had never seen before.

"He is on his way to the MacDonald Randolph, we have 3 teams watching him, the cab is tagged and special," the IM flashed up on Ian's screen.

"Excellent, keep a watch and let me know when he has checked in," Ian replied.

Switching off the computer Ian stood and headed for the stairs, 'I hope this doesn't cause problems for us down the road' Ian thought as he climbed the ancient English oak staircase looking forward to spending the evening in Millie's arms.

Morning dawned gray as Michael rolled out of the large Queen Anne bed.

The MacDonald Randolph was an old world hotel. Built in the 1860's it had once been home to a Count, converted and updated over time, it had the air of English aristocracy that fit so many of Michael's notions of what 'English' meant.

Taking care of his morning rituals and dressing in a comfortable pair of black jeans a heavy wool turtleneck sweater and his well worn timberline boots he closed the heavy oak door to his room, setting out to see the sights.

His meeting with Ms. Smyth was not until late this afternoon, which gave him a chance to just wander around and take in the sights.

Lt. Sims sat in the lobby of the MacDonald waiting to see what Mr. Dane would be up to today.

After last nights escapade and the overwhelming feelings he had gotten when he touched Mr. Dane the Lt. had requested an emergency pass, his commander believing that he just needed a few days to get over the angst of another pointless mission.

There was something about Mr. Dane; something that just didn't make sense and Lt. Sims was going to find out exactly why that was.

Michael's watchers noticed the young SAS lieutenant enter the lobby and find an out of the way chair with an open view of the space.

"What do we have here," Nigel said to his partner John as he took a quick photo and emailed it off to get an id. Minutes later Nigel's PDA vibrated and the life history of Lt. Lawrence J. Sims popped up on the screen.

"Control this is five, it seems one of the SAS chaps from last night has taken an interest in our mark, please advise." Nigel finished, waiting for a response he turned another page in the hottest new release that he was reading, curious to see what would befall the main character, a young wizard, next.

Walking slowly down the stairs in the three-story central reception area Michael marveled at the restoration that had taken place only a few years before. The light beige wallpaper with the darker imprinted standards gave a feeling of warmth to the stone and timber walls of the hotel.

Stepping off the stairs he walked over to the large granite faced fireplace, knowing that this was probably the original he was entranced by the detailing of the granite façade, marveling in the attention to detail of the delicate filigree that would be almost impossible to replicate today.