Artis and Co. head back to McLaren's bait and tackle shop in hopes of foiling the execution of the "Fawkes Project" as it has come to be called. They head back to the coastal village, camping out in the surveillance and begin to, well...surveil.

Meanwhile, Jess and Brian take an Agency puddlejumper to Heathrow Airport, London. Upon arriving, the terminal is bustling with security details and random searches. They are confronted by a few policeman, but after showing their Agency credentials, the men are apologetic and go on their way.

Waiting for them outside the security perimeter is a smartly-dressed young blonde woman holding up a sign,

FAWKES

No doubt Five and the Agency's attempt at humor...


(Edited by Dieter at 3:47 pm on Nov. 5, 2003)

Brian chuckles slightly, motioning to the woman.

"Either that's our contact, or this is going to be pathetically easy."

The young lady standing approaches them.

"Nightengale sends his best. I'm here to see that you get to your destination safely."

(Edited by Dieter at 1:45 pm on Nov. 7, 2003)

Jess follows behind, her eyes darting from side to side once before she forces herself to stay calm.

"Any news from 5 ?"

The woman seems equally cautious, as she motions for Brian and Jess to follow her.

"The situation has not improved, if that's what you're asking. The PM and others have been moved to a secure facility with Five and Scotland Yard on high alert throughout the city."

As they walk through the terminal, the woman appears to radio in via a collar mike.

"Wicked Witch to Brother Grimm, Hansel and Gretl have been acquired."

Brian nods, his eyes also scanning the terminal for more immediate threats, half listening to their contact.

"So still no idea as to their next intended target?"

"Buckingham Palace, Trafalgar Square, Carnaby Street...it's anyone's guess right now."

The woman pauses in mid-step, turning to face the agents.

"I thought you lot were the ones who were supposed to figure this stuff out, not me. No matter, the car is parked outside and I'll be taking you directly to Thames House."

Brian gives her half of a goofy grin.

"No, that's *her*," he says, nodding to Jess ",job. Then I get to end it in a hail of gunfire. Or at least, that's how the plan usually works out."

"Right, so the whole of southeast England is dependant upon a Yank redhead? When I hear things like that, it's about time to take a fortnight's holiday in Majorca."

The trio take the levity of moment in stride as they proceed to the parking garage. As they exit the stairwell and approach the car, the driver* notices some people mucking with her ride.

Her refined social skills are put to test...and are quickly dismissed when one of them attempts to bash out the driver's side window, slightly marring the glass.

"WANKERS!" Marilyn yells, as the man takes another swing at the window, this time spiderwebbing the pane.

*Previously, I forgot to give her a name. We'll call her Marilyn.

Meanwhile...

*North Berwick: 1730 hours, outside "McLaren's Bait and Tackle"*

Ayumi enters the back of the surveillance van holding in her hands a cup carrier and supper for four. The stakeout is approaching its eighth hour with little more to report than a few walk-in customers and the occasional drunk fisherman idling the day away in front of the store.

The team sits down to eat their becoming-ubiquitious meal of fish-n-chips when Carla spies through an IR-telephoto lens the arrival of a large truck pulling up to the loading dock of McLaren's shop.

"All right, if that's nothing - like everything else so far has been - I'm gonna go take a pee," Artis says.

The back of the truck is opened up as clerks begin to unload crates of various shape and size, most having words like Live Bait and with the occasional rod and reel thrown in for good measure.

Artis goes for a pee behind the van and in mid-stream he notices another truck approaching the neighborhood. Instead of pulling up to McLaren's shop, it stops a block down the street (directly across from the Agency van). The only difference between the two vehicles is that the driver and passenger in the previous truck weren't armed with submachineguns slung over their shoulders. These guys are.

(Edited by Dieter at 4:38 pm on Nov. 11, 2003)

Artis flips out his phone whilst the gunmen across the street open up the doors to the truck's cargo compartment.

Jumping down from within are several other men (four total) armed in similar fashion to their colleagues. Two of them make for a door to a residence while the other two stand guard beside the truck.

During this dubious display, Artis' phone connects with Thames House. He tells them what's going and asks for further orders. Moments later, he receives a text message,.

[color=blue:e01d68c294]Maintain low profile. When the cargo is loaded, follow the truck to its destination.[/color]

[color=red:e01d68c294]Do not engage hostiles unless necessary.[/color]

Artis goes back in the van, monitoring the situation as it unfolds through the IR/NV-equipped video equipment. Large plastic drums and metal crates are being loaded onto the truck. A laborer accidentally drops one with a loud *clang*, spilling the contents onto the ground. They appear to be weapons, probably assault rifles of some kind...which is proceeded with a minor beatdown from one of the guards nearby.

The loading continues for about an hour as the men finish up with a celebratory smoke and swig of whiskey. All the while, one of the guards takes a particular interest in the unmarked van parked across the street. With the job complete, he breaks off from the rest of his group and heads over to the Agency van.

Jess seems content to watch for the moment, musing that the amount of Agency vehicles that gets wrecked in her vicinity probably keeps quite a few chopcshops in business.

The Rover's window is bashed out causing Marilyn's teeth to grind and knuckles to crack. She hands Jess her briefcase, retrieving a baton from a concealed compartment hidden on its exterior.

"Hold this" she says to Jess, as she smacks the baton on her heel, fully extending the implement.

"I'll be right back. (glancing over to Brian) Care to join me?"

Back in Scotland...

Through the various cameras mounted about the van, the group sees the guard peer through the driver's side window. He sees Artis sitting idley by...his gun cocked and fixed at chest height to the door. The guard taps on his window.

"What da yer think yer doin' here???"

Artis steps into the role of the bumbling cable TV guy.

"See, the van won't start and they've been waiting for a long freakin' time for the freakin' tow truck. We install satellite internet and TV, but not when the van doesn't go..."

The guard is a bit perplexed at the fairly reasonable story has given.

"Er...um. Yer been here fer a while now, a wee bit too long for even out in these parts. What company did yer say yer worked fer? And who do yer mean by they?"

Artis can tell the guard's gone from curious to concerned as the man surreptitiously adjusts the strap on weapon carried beneath his jacket.


(Edited by Dieter at 1:42 pm on Nov. 14, 2003)

Artis gives the guy an annoyed "qhat's with all the questions" look, then continues. "Wallace Networking. They happen to be the internet people in the back. I just do the dishes. Get it? Satellite dishes? Say, maybe you can give us a jump?"

Goose gets a harsh sinking feeling starting at the top of his esophagus going down well past his feet and into the van's floorboard. If he had one of those "CSI: Crime Cameras" (TM), he'd be seeing the guard's thumb flick his weapon's safety off and slide his finger around the trigger. The feeling is followed by the guard's nodding,

"I'll see what I can do."

He has that yeah, right impression as he begins to walk back over to his friends across the street.

(Edited by Dieter at 1:06 pm on Nov. 14, 2003)

Artis leans low like he's trying the engine again, whispering "Agent Goose. Quixote about to hit windmill, request backup," and then to Carla and Ayumi, "Shitballs."