The sleek, black, luxurious Audi A8 was parked in the underground garage of the Kingdom of Eden International Airport.
It was a Level Two garage, and below it was the Level One garage which was reserved for the Royal Family. The security cameras were many here, covering every possible angle, capturing even the blind areas and making the garages impossible to attack without leaving video footage evidence. These cameras, linked to monitors were located in a security terminal within the airport manned by SPF staff constantly; they were always on and always sending surveillance images whilst storing live video feeds.
Four SPF Field Agents in black suits, white shirts and black ties were standing stiffly and fully alert around the Audi. There were two other cars in the terminal reserved for emergencies; all the cars were bullet-proofed and highly customized with security gadgets.
The four men were standing on each side of the car. The garage was brightly-lit with bulbs recessed in the concrete ceiling and the temperature cooled by a central air-conditioning system.
The agents waited grimly with their hands on the butts of their guns hanging from shoulder holsters.
***
The Director of Field Operations of SPF, Stanley Adu, who was returning from an international conference in Sweden, was met by two experienced SPF agents, Kiki Somia and Peter Asirifi when he was cleared through the VIP section of the airport.
He was a huge powerfully-built man in his late fifties. Dressed in a blue-black suit and a long overcoat, he was an imposing figure as he emerged and saw the agents moving across the terminal to flank as soon as he was ushered into the luxurious inner lounge. This told him immediately that the situation was a Code Black, a serious emergency, and the security protocols had been tightened up.
Normally, they would have waited for him to visit the washroom or be served with a drink or snack of his choice inside the reserved VIP lounge before escorting him to a waiting car outside. He paused and took off his gold-rimmed spectacles as he raised his eyebrows at the two agents.
"Good afternoon, sir," Kiki said sharply as his eyes expertly scanned the lounge area.
"Peter, Kiki, what's the situation?" Stanley Adu asked coldly with a slight scowl. "I wanted to wait here a while. They're going to serve me with my favourite Mexican dish. You better have a good reason for disrupting my arrival plans, gentlemen."
"We're extremely sorry, sir. The food would be delivered to you at the palace if you so wish. But we're going through the U-Garage today, sir," Peter, the senior agent, said curtly. "SPF President's orders, sir."
Stanley Adu did not move; his huge face was beginning to close over with anger.
"I bloody asked you what the situation was, didn't I?" he asked coldly. "That's not the bloody answer you gave me. Why the hell am I going through the underground garage? What's going on here?"
"Sorry, sir," Kiki said quickly. "Prodigal escaped jail yesterday morning. He's still on the loose."
Stanley Adu's body gave an involuntary tremble, and he gasped audibly. The anger evaporated from his face immediately and his eyes suddenly looked around the lounge with palpable concern that bordered on fear.
"Jesus Hebrew Christ!" he whispered, and try as he could, he was not able to stop the alarm from making his face sag and causing his voice to tremble. "Why the hell wasn't I informed before I landed?"
"Sir Lancelot didn't want to trouble you, sir," Peter said quickly. "And that's why we're here, to take you straight to the palace for a briefing."
"We cleared your bags already, sir," Kiki said quickly. "An agent is sending them to the car right now. We have to move now, sir. There's going to be a briefing on Prodigal at the Palace. Sir Lancelot wants you there."
Stanley Adu shoved his hands into his pockets because he was aware his hands were trembling badly, and that was not a good sign for the men to see. His throat was suddenly parched and he craved a drink badly. There was a dull ache in the back of his head, a clear indication that his blood temperature was rising, triggered by the most unsavoury news he would ever hear.
Prodigal escaped? Dear Lord, how could that be possible?
"We need to move, sir," Peter said quickly. "We are using emergency elevators."
"How many men are here to protect me?" Stanley asked hoarsely and began to walk rapidly towards the elevator as his eyes cast furtive glances around him.
His increasing terror was apparent now, and he did not attempt to hide it.
"Seven, sir," Kiki said calmly. "Four with the car in the garage, one taking your luggage down, and the two of us."
Stanley stared at them with sudden fury through his horror, and a vein beat thickly at the side of his neck. If he could, he would have scratched their eyes out of their sockets.
"Are you insane? Seven? Just seven agents?" he whispered furiously. "Prodigal is bloody on the loose and you are only seven, you bloody idiots? Who ordered the fucking detail?"
"Mr Paul Blankson, sir," Kiki said with his pugnacious jaw thrust out as he fought for control and not to give in to the anger blasting through his heart at the verbal insults of the Director and their implied professional slurs. "We're on top of this, sir. We can handle Prodigal."
"The hell you can, you moron!" Stanley hissed furiously. "Idiots! Chris is a fucking shadow, a ghost, you fool! He will walk through you like a ghost and you wouldn't even bloody see him! Call for backup now! Tell Paul I want a damn van filled with agents! Call him now!"
"Sir…"
"Call for a bloody backup now!" Stanley shouted, making others nearby look at him. "I need more agents around me! That bastard will come for me surely, and I know who the hell he is. So, don't you stand there questioning me, officer. Request for more agents now!"
"Yes, sir," Peter said as he indicated the elevator. "Call it in, Kiki. But let's move, sir. It is expedient!"
Stanley allowed himself to be ushered towards the lifts as Kiki took out his powerful closed-circuit communicator and requested back-up.