12 Minutes (#2 in Military series)

Chapter 23

A/N: 

Okay, before I post the next meagre chapter (I'm sorry, but I will explain why it is so meagre in a second) I wanted to take a moment to speak to everyone and anyone that reads this. I know I have been a bit MIA recently (my last update for this book was at the end of FEBRUARY!!!! Again, my deepest apologies for that) and I just wanted to say thank you for being so patient and sticking with me.

The reason why I haven't updated in so long is because, well, you're gonna hate me for this, but I am suffering once again with the dreaded WRITER'S BLOCK! Aah! I did go away for a week at the end of March to Belfast too but I won't go into that - unless there is anyone reading this from Belfast then drop me a line ;) I'd love to speak to you all. 

Anyway, back on topic. Despite the writer's block I have got so far into the next chapter, albeit it not even being half way, and I wasn't going to post it but considering there may be a long wait for the next upload (I know, I'm crying about it too) then I thought I should post it because you all deserve it (and a lot more!)

I know how I want the story to plan out but I just can't seem to get the ideas out of my head, converted into my nervous system, typed out through my fingertips and onto the screens of all you lovely readers. I promise I will try and get there as soon as possible but until then I hope that this (extremely) short chapter will curb some of your withdrawal symptoms.  

Now that that's all sorted I'm going to go away and crawl into a corner whilst you read the next few lines - seriously, this author's note is probably longer than the next chapter :( Again, I apologise.

Melissa. 

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Chapter 23 

A conference call connected the MI5 operations room to 10 Downing Street's war office where the Prime Minister sat around an oval oak table with his most trusted advisors waiting for a video feed to come up.

As they waited, the prime minister asked Truro through the phone connection for an update on the search for the bombers who may at this very moment be preparing for an attack on their city.

"We are sharing information with other agencies and drawing up a list of possible names," Truro replied.

"What about the terror watch list?" the PM asked, "Can we start checking the locations of some of the people on there?"

"We can but if we start knocking down the wrong doors then we could be alerting the real terrorists that we know them and they could bring forward their attack."

"Very well," the PM leaned forward and ran a hand over his mouth as a light suddenly reflected off the polished oak table and he looked up to the screen in the room had turned on, "What is this footage we are about to see?" He asked.

"This is a live feed from the drone we currently have deployed over the compound. General Ridgeway and his team are on site, sir."

Everyone in the room turned from their muted conversations and the sheets of information in their hands to look at the screen as it switched from regular camera footage to heat signature. The screen lit up with a mirage of warm reds and cold blues providing a blurry picture of the building and its hilly surroundings. Was his niece somewhere in that circular blob of red or was she already dead? He prayed not for his sister's sake.

Sat at the head of the table, directly across from the screen, the prime minister shifted forward in his chair and scanned the footage eagerly as he looked for Ridgeway's private operations team whom he had been informed had been sent in. As he stared at the screen he spotted a few red figures in the corner. Moving outwards to surround the building he wondered what they were doing when someone in the MI5 operations room navigated the drone and its camera so as to follow the Special Task Force. As it did so everyone spotted a few more figures waiting on the perimeter of the site, which everyone took to be hostiles. A few moments later the special task force crept up behind the terrorist sentries and engaged in hand to hand combat.