By Gerald Seymour
C.R.O.P.: Covert Rural statement Posts are areas the place males like Danny 'Badger' Baxter cover for never-ending, immobile hours, secretly recording felony or terrorist activity.But now Badger has a much bigger activity than photographing dissident Republicans in muddy Ulster fields or Islamic extremists on rainswept Yorkshire moors.I.E.D.: Improvised Explosive units are the roadside bombs which account for eighty% of British casualties in Iraq and Afghanistan.MI6 have a plan to assassinate the best maker of those guns whilst he leaves his condo in Iran to go to Europe. yet first, they should comprehend whilst he's leaving, and the place he's going.So it's that Badger reveals himself at the mistaken aspect of the Iranian border, lumbered with a accomplice he loathes, mendacity lower than a cruel solar in a mosquito-infested marsh, staring at the home. And understanding that in the event that they are stuck, Her Majesty's executive will deny all wisdom of them.Welcome to A Deniable dying.
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His wife and he had gripped the other’s hand and she had choked a little. He had sniffed hard. It was not right that a man who worked for the al-Quds Brigade of the Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps should show emotion and fear of death. His own father, nineteen years before, had gone into an unmarked, unlisted minefield to rescue a pupil from his school who had wandered into it after a puppy. The dog had tripped an anti-personnel device. In the end, the puppy was dead, the pupil alive. His father had tripped another mine and had lived for four or five hours.
So, go to it, Len, and know that many men – and widows – will be cheering you on. If you bring him down there will be cheering to the rafters. It’s not the sort of thing we’ve done in years – a first in my time – but it has my total support . . as long as it stays deniable. Half an hour later he had cleared his desk and, with a filled briefcase, had allowed his assistant to leave ahead of him. He had switched off the lights, locked the doors, and they had gone down to the central hall in the lift.
He crouched to pick up unseen pieces of rubbish, swept the pavement and gutter, then cleared the dried leaves that had fallen. Rashid thought he was an Arab – there were many in the region of Khuzestan. They did the menial work and had no education. In Ahvaz, some police and IRGC members thought of them as terrorists, but this was an old man and . . He threw down the cigarette, turned on his heel and fished in his pocket for the packet and his lighter. He looked for a kingfisher over the water and saw a heron poised and still; a hawk flew low past him.