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f_m_parkinson today - a real treat! *g*
A Good Fit
by Felicity M. Parkinson
Bodie heard the click of the catch as the door opened and looked round as Richardson came quietly into the room. Changeover time. He got up from his chair, relieved it was the end of his shift. He hated obbos – they were boring for the most part and this one had already turned into the most unproductive yet in terms of information or action.
“It’s all yours.” He gestured to Richardson, even though the room was in semi-darkness. “Have fun.” He stretched, rolling his shoulders and flexing his arms to ease the tension, before rubbing his eyes, tired from spending long intervals staring through night vision binoculars trained on the pebbly beach of the small cove that stretched from the house to the next outcrop of rocks. “I doubt if Mackenzie’ll show his face tonight, even though the tide’s comin’ in again. There’s too much light from the moon. It might be easier for him but he won’t want to risk a landing with all of us showing an interest in this stretch of coastline. What with CI5, MI6, and the coastguards crawlin’ all over the area, the place is swarming with security personnel, worse than a disturbed termite colony. He’s probably going to offload the guns somewhere more isolated.”
“We can’t watch every inch of the coast,” replied Richardson, taking his seat on the hard chair to start his shift. “Not enough manpower. We’re too thin on the ground as it is along here. MI6 can’t cover every beach or inlet along the south coast and CI5 can’t do any more either. The coastguards are doing their bit but it’s a mammoth undertaking. We did have a whisper, to put it no more strongly, that this section was a likely landing place.”
“Yeah.” Bodie said without much enthusiasm. He had his views on joint ops involving the various services, Intelligence or otherwise, this one in particular, and had unwisely voiced them in Cowley’s office.
( Why is...? )
f_m_parkinson today - a real treat! *g*by Felicity M. Parkinson
Bodie heard the click of the catch as the door opened and looked round as Richardson came quietly into the room. Changeover time. He got up from his chair, relieved it was the end of his shift. He hated obbos – they were boring for the most part and this one had already turned into the most unproductive yet in terms of information or action.
“It’s all yours.” He gestured to Richardson, even though the room was in semi-darkness. “Have fun.” He stretched, rolling his shoulders and flexing his arms to ease the tension, before rubbing his eyes, tired from spending long intervals staring through night vision binoculars trained on the pebbly beach of the small cove that stretched from the house to the next outcrop of rocks. “I doubt if Mackenzie’ll show his face tonight, even though the tide’s comin’ in again. There’s too much light from the moon. It might be easier for him but he won’t want to risk a landing with all of us showing an interest in this stretch of coastline. What with CI5, MI6, and the coastguards crawlin’ all over the area, the place is swarming with security personnel, worse than a disturbed termite colony. He’s probably going to offload the guns somewhere more isolated.”
“We can’t watch every inch of the coast,” replied Richardson, taking his seat on the hard chair to start his shift. “Not enough manpower. We’re too thin on the ground as it is along here. MI6 can’t cover every beach or inlet along the south coast and CI5 can’t do any more either. The coastguards are doing their bit but it’s a mammoth undertaking. We did have a whisper, to put it no more strongly, that this section was a likely landing place.”
“Yeah.” Bodie said without much enthusiasm. He had his views on joint ops involving the various services, Intelligence or otherwise, this one in particular, and had unwisely voiced them in Cowley’s office.
( Why is...? )
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