Thom sighed, as he knew the American wasn't aware, it wasn't a literal bank, as he buckled up for now, letting Liberty drive.And even despite her fucked leg, it would be good enough to get them there quick, as he looked over at Lancaster,
"Ready up, Lancaster. I'll buy you a pint later." Thom replied as he watched on, passing him the P226.
"You've got the non-lethal. Make the shot count. If we can do this without bloodshed, we'll have fucked him up proper." He added, as they paced through the London Docklands, headed for the City of London.

-----------

Arriving at the station, right in front of one of the main entrances, the team knew that the severity was high- after all, this was going to be seen as a terrorist attack and it had to stop right now, in it's infancy before it grew and bastardised into something worse, which meant taking the target down by lethal or non lethal means.

Diving out, Thom led the way, looking to Lancaster to follow, as they both knew they had to head in, breaking into a sprint, one hand against ear for his headset.

"Boss, we're on the move. Heading into the station now. Sound the evacuation order. We'll be able to get our guy with the intel you have, Bugcatcher." With it, Thom ran in, SMG in both hands as civilians didn't even notice, yet he knew in this climate it would be a definitively risky move to make. Any police officers that were there, Section would have been able to alert yet at this point, the Met weren't going to be fast enough, nor able enough to keep pace with the events taking place. This was for Sierra to handle, and they would watch on.

Running down the stairs, Cavalier led the way as he lept the ticket barrier, to the noise of swearing from a ticket inspector, and a number of other people going through.
"Oi, you!" One of the TFL staff yelled, as Thom turned, not realising he still had the MPX in hand, as the guard looked on in shock.
"Shit, he's got a gun!" And the entire station descended into screaming, as Thom looked to Lancaster, with a "Fuck's sake" look on his face, clearly unable to stop it, as they looked on to the platform, the train meant to be here, right now.
"Bugcatcher, Kingsman, where the fuck's our fucking train? It's typical British transport!"

-------------

Kingmaker looked on at the various feeds, looking to Bugcatcher. He had to be executive, and clear in what he said. Any fuck up, everyone was out of a job and he wasn't ever going to see the light of day again. These orders had to be crystal clear.

"The train is running late. We think we've got our man, he's on the rear carriage. Watch the target and watch your fire. Don't let any civies get too close and keep anyone out of harm's way. You have orders to deal with the threat right there and then, team. End this quickly but don't risk civilian collateral."

Bugcatcher bit the corner of his lower lip, worrying abit at the flesh. Looking back and forth, then stabbed his finger out at a screen, and brought the feed up onto the screen right above him, zoomed the camera and reached out to pulls Kingmaker over, "Got him! The Boss is right. Last Carraige, about 5 feet 9 inches tall. Purple colored hoodie, with a crescent moon on the front. He's got a grey colored mini laptop bag on his right shoulder. SWAT boots, Dark haired. He's walking towards the steps leading to Bishops. Guys he should be walking towards you. He's near the inner station wall, trying to stay out of the main flow. Watch yourselves."

He kept the camera's going. And began to close off the inter platform passage ways. So their target couldn't slip past their people. Each inter platform shutter came down ahead of the man so it didn't look like they were open in the first place, "Come on guys. We need to nab this guy." He shut the last shutter closing it right beside Cavalier with a click.

"No way he's getting out unless he turns around and goes against the flow." His eyes flicked over, "Your 12 o clock along the wall. Lancaster, Cavalier can you see him?" he could now see both the team and the target on the same screen. And he got to see the moment the target realized what was in front of him.

Pulling the handbrake, Cassie executed a handbrake turn that would impress even the most stubborn of girls. Letting the male occupants of the car go chase after the terrorists, Cassie peeled off once they were fully away. She realized that there wasn't really another place to go other than the entrance, so what she was going to do instead was to drive a giant circle while her colleagues went and did their thing. It wasn't like she was in good enough health to join in on the pursuit. She would've just held back the squad.

"A pint? A single pint? Thom, you're going to owe me a whole distillery by the end of this."

---

Liberty had driven HIS car decent enough he had to admit, although her wounded leg was sure to give the usually smooth ride a bumpy after-taste, like a really bad American whiskey. Scratch that, any American whiskey was bad. But the trio managed to get to the station without more fuss than Sierra HQ could deal with later. Right now they had bigger fish to catch.

Lancaster/George had the Sig P226 firmly held in his dominant right hand, hopefully concealed enough in the mass of civilian commuters that the usual security guards wouldn't notice. Though they did when Thom/Cavalier of course had to do the obvious move of jumping over the ticket barrier, catching the attention of literarly everyone. Lancaster knew all too well, and was in no mood for their much-needed element of surprise to be intact, although his solution could go either way. Slowing down ever so slightly after Cavalier, Lancaster pulled out a large bundle of Pound Sterling bank notes alongside a fake ID that he quickly showed to the ticket inspector. "We're shooting a movie; Jason Re-Bourne. Sorry for the trouble." he said as if it was the most natural and honest thing in the world, throwing the money at the TFL- and security personell, before rushing after Cavalier again.

And very soon, they had their man.

"Roger that, Bugcatcher. Eyes on target."

Lancaster could see the man all right, and the target could see him too. Lancaster rushed forwards towards him, now seeing the purple hoodie, grey lady-bag and his look of utter shock as the realization of getting found caught up with him. So did Lancaster. "Top of the morning to you, you git." Lancaster said faster than him raising the Sig and firing the tranquilizer at him, the dart-bullet-thingy finding its mark at his throat. As soon as that happened, he continued his rush forward with a good push to their target's forehead, certainly knocking him out faster than the tranquilizer. No big fight or grand finale, though today was not one of those days. "Kingmaker, Bugcatcher or Liberty, you better get us an ambulance fast. I got a plan." Lancaster said over his comms, holding the man down as he went to the ground, then looking to Cavalier.

"Do you think you can play a concerned citizen? This man is clearly in need of an ambulance, don't you think?"

Drevan watched though his all seeing eye, the internet! And his high end hacking system. He checked to make sure all this systems are running smooth, then back to the monitor that showed the train station and the team, through the team comms he picked up Lancaster's play, and quickly threw together a semi-solid production code and filming itinary for "Jason Re-Bourne" jus tin case sometime down the road in the next few days someone looked it up, just something else to cover their trail. with a few clacks the information was placed in a few big name production companies that should pass a search for it later. He ghosted the mini hacks to get into those systems and returned to the main operation, "Tracks hidden...there he is. A Awesome. We got this piece of trash."

He hummed, seeing where Lancaster is going. He nods, "I can clear the way through the queue for who ever calls it up. The ambulance will make a beeline for your position once it's called through...sorry if someone's having a heart attack somewhere..." He begins another hack, throwing everything he has, getting into the dispatchers system, and clearing the ambulance queue for the next few minutes, so that when the person who makes the call, they get through and their call will be first on the list. He bit his bottom lip and manuvuered his way through the systems carefully. And with an absent little motion of his hand as if he had reached out and grabbed something he grins, "Gotcha. Someone make the call. The next ambulance will be sent right to your position ASAP."

Thom let the big man take the lead, George doing what he had to do, as he covered him and watched him pull it off. It wasn't dramatic, but it got the job done, as he swept around, keeping an eye open for anyone else that was with this man.
"Target is under, repeat, target is under. We have our man." Thom said, looking to George, nodding.

-------------

Kingmaker watched, Martin observing the scene unfolding, as he crossed his hands, watching on.
"Good protocol, Bugcatcher. It's en route then. I'll have the crew....well, understand what the situation is." He said, as he walked away from Bugcatcher, taking his phone out, and dialling a number, leaving the room for a moment, fully aware that he didn't need to. Bugcatcher would know precisely what he was up to as Martin went outside, but it happened so quickly, that nobody there would have understood it entirely.

-------------------

The ambulance carreered to a halt outside, people running around, and anti-terrorist police rushing past into the cleaned out station, as Thom and George carried the man towards it. It felt strange to be in this environment, and he was almost glad that the MPX wasn't as easily seen, and the cops that had arrived had their orders. This felt strangely in sync, like someone above had pulled strings perfectly, like a violinist playing a tune pitch perfect. It was thanks to a man that managed to handle this clusterfuck of agents he had at his disposal, and it had worked.

The ambulance crew ran out with a wheeled stretcher, slowly picking the man up out of Thom and George's arms and putting him onto it, as they followed, moving quickly yet not running to the parked ambulance. He was slammed in faster than anyone could percieve, and inexplicably, George and Thom were in the back. The door shut, as the three-person crew were inside, and away with George, Thom and the purple-hoodied man.

"Well, that happened." Thom said, leaning back as he exhaled, looking at the man in the purple hoodie, checking him over for any cyanide or weapons, any cavity he could, the ambulance staff looking on quietly, ordered not to speak a word. Thom nodded, looking to George once more.
"I have a feeling we're going to have a busy evening."

--------------

"The Interlude"

Five Days Later

Martin Thatcher was a man that had a lot of shit on his plate. The explosion at the tower had not been coincidental. Whatever it was in Pakistan that Sierra had unearthed, a raft of people were scrambling to hide their interests, Martin had concluded. The purple hoodied man was now in a container, that was classified as being a part of the property of Jordan, at an unknown RAF base in the countryside. He didn't know that of course, because in Jordan, torture laws were more lenient. Inteligence work was gritty at times, but Martin got his way of doing things and well, that was the best place. For now, it wasn't his ability to get answers- those would come in time from those who knew what he was doing. Instead of that, he had to explain how a major clusterfuck had happened on Sierra's watch. How a near-terrorist incident nearly hit the London Underground. That was frightening stuff. And now, his responsibility to go over.

Sitting in the office, the other MI6 intelligence director looked across with a steely glare, shaking his head. A faceless bureaucrat, no man of action but someone who ran a desk and not much more. But someone who was chasing this tail up, to clear the facts. And of course, authorise Sierra's remit.

"So, your conclusion, Martin?" He asked, as he sipped a little water, barely flinching in his chair as he did so.

"The data breach was something someone was closing down. They destroyed the server alright, turns out the plug got pulled not soon after that explosion. The signal went dead....we got what we wanted, but someone wanted to limit their damage. And someone knows that we were there."

"Limit their damage? What do you mean?" The grey man asked, as Martin sat up.

"There is someone working in collusion. Financiers, investors in groups such as our Taliban friends. I think it's connected. They want to make sure that they don't get exposed on whatever transactions were on that server. A secure one, may I add. One that was unconnected to the internet, and used through encrypted channels. One that cost my hacker an awful lot of time." Martin explained, as he poured himself a different drink, a small glass of whiskey, no less. He needed it after this bullshit.

"Interesting. That still leaves the loose end of who this shadow client is. The one that wanted to...cover their tracks. The one that did this, the person who needs their damage limited. We need more than a speculation of financiers."

"The man we captured was Iranian. Potentially, government investment from them. Or, just a former operator. He still hasn't given in, so we won't find out until he coughs up. It's possible that the Islamic Republic have a beef to pick with us." Martin cautiously spoke, the other man noticing it fully.

"And yet you don't sound convinced, Martin."

"I'm not. Because I think I know where we might find answers. There was one name that rang out in there in particular. There was nothing else that we found particularly interesting, just plenty of shell accounts and proxies, and none of it is substantial at all. But the biggest name on that server was Hans Rosenquist, CEO of Nectar Pharmaceutials. A Swedish CEO on that list doesn't make sense. Even with all of the noise removed, his name stuck out, as the main name on that server. A man with no political investments, but he had links to financial funding for Islamic terrorist groups, if that server says so."

"And what do you think then? Where does that put Sierra in chasing this down?" The director asked, a half-rhetorical question but addressed simply and plainly, rather than to undermine him.

"I suggest we have a chat with him. And probably dig up more data, because Bugcatcher just loves harvesting through people's personal lives. Of course, he's too busy. But his daughter seems to be rather prominent on social media. Careless, given her father is quieter than a mouse. And yet she is as shouty as they come. And, this girl, she's going to Monaco, it seems...on daddy's yacht."

"I see. And you think that could work?" The director asked, Martin chuckling, shaking his head.

"Not for certain. But we haven't got any other leads. No sane father would leave a multi-million pound boat in the hands of a 23-year old in a harbour like that. Not one at the top of a major drugs company. Victoria Rosenquist, pretty young thing....it would be rather convenient if one of our agents were to get close. A man I might know would be good at it."

"Good heavens. You aren't serious?"

"What, has old school spy work never worked? I need a man who can do whisky, casino tables, and young girls to protect the United Kingdom. Oh, and our resident American to keep him from going off the rails."

"I was going to say. Don't let your man get too attached to her." The director added, as Martin nodded, calmly sipping down a bit more whiskey, and loading up the post on his tablet, the one that had caught his eye. Victoria Rosenquist. A young woman in a skimpy bikini and a view of Monaco behind her, on what was certainly a ridiculously expensive boat. She was wearing sunglasses and from the looks of it, was exceptionally pretty. As Swedish a stereotype as ABBA was. The sort of girl that daddy bankrolled, and right now, had probably just given up her father's wherabouts.

--------------------

The Monégasque Gambit

Three Weeks Later

Monte-Carlo, Monaco

--

The plan was simple.

And so long as Sierra didn't totally fuck this, it would remain as such. Kingmaker had briefed the team beforehand, and whilst it felt strange to be going to this sort of work, he had to guess that from an extended debrief, and the fact that it was a disappointing haul from the tower server in London simply that hadn't made up for the effort they had made, this was going to be something to find a better understanding.

George had been put in as a civilian, flying from London to Nice, then getting a helicopter to Monaco's Heliport as a VIP, under his psudonym, and no doubt, was going to be rather chuffed to bits about that very idea of that happening. All in the while, Martin had Cassie on the ground after leaving Nice Airport, also in civilian attire, and as a seperate guest to the Casino de Monte-Carlo. The. Thom was with Drevan and Martin in the van, who unlike his usual self, wasn't sitting in a room in London, but in the thick of it.

It felt very, very James Bond this. This was about finding Victoria Rosenquist, in the Casino, and letting George....do his thing. However he pleased. He was such a gentleman that he probably was going to try and use his exquisite charm on her, as Martin had seen him do before. But, any other option was open. She needed to fess up to where daddy was, and the moment that happened, Martin was aware that they'd have their man to chase. A warrant or an arrest would just be too suspicious, and give him too much time to clean house. So this was the only way they had, and Martin fucking hoped that there would be results from this. Only difference? The support team involved, and the fact that it wasn't just one gentleman spy doing his thing. It was a team of highly trained intelligence operators that weren't meant to be there, at all.

Something about it felt connected to Martin, wondering about it still. MI6's AI programmes had run it through a Fraud database, deciphering links in documents and data and it came up to him, mysteriously. Nonsensically, of course, because how on earth did an Iranian operator, a Al-Qaeda and Taliban data farm and a Swedish CEO connect. It had something in there, and he was going to find out, one way or another.

Looking at his watch, he checked the time. It was time to report in with the two.

9:30pm,
Casino Square
Monte-Carlo Casino, Monaco

"Cavalier, Liberty, report in. We have eyes on you by the entrance of the Casino. CCTV is limited inside, due to the nature of the estabishment- I'll let Bugcatcher see what he can do but you'll be mostly on your own in there. Remember the op. Find our girl, given she last checked in here about 15 minutes ago, and find out what you can on where her father is. Remember, you're unarmed and we don't want to pick a fight here. Cavalier, you should probably be the first to make a move, Liberty, I suggest you watch for security around our girl." He spoke into his headset, checking the silenced Browning Hi-Power in his suit jacket, looking to Drevan's mobile setup inside the van.

"Go time, Hackerman." Martin said, nodding, Thom looking out through the back seat.
"Why the fuck aren't I in there, boss?"
"Because....well.....you're gonna need to fucking floor it when Cavalier gets slapped by our target and runs out followed by half a dozen bouncers." Martin said, deadpan serious, before cracking a smirk.
"Ah. Right." Thom replied, shrugging as he just took the section chief's advice, looking through the window across the square, still amazed he'd found somewhere so close to park.

The two operators going in had comms hidden on them, and Bugcatcher would be able to watch their every move too, if the hidden cameras they had were placed correctly.

Drevan had let out a breath, their target taken down, pick up and extract in progress. He let out a low slow breath. Taking a moment to let the stress of the operation flow out. Looking at the feeds he has he nods, and well eaves dropping on the call the Boss makes. He nods slowly then begins to pull out. Connections to Leeds, Greece, a tiny little server room somewhere in the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone, a net cafe in South Korea, another net cafe in Okinawa,, and finally the connection to the FBI servers in the states, everyone put up to throw off anyone or anything that tried to trace the hacks.

Once out he shut down his hacking suites one by one, leaving one open to track the team, "Bugcatcher ninety percent disconnected. Good job folks."

He leaned back and then reached under his desk grabbing a can of Guinness, hidden there for just these sorts of moments. With a pop he snaps it open then relaxes, sipping at it, "Helluva operation."

--------------

Remote Hacking Van, Monte Carlo, Monaco

As soon as he had gotten word that they'd be in the field and what they are doing, Drevan had spent a week an a half uninstalling, reinstalling, refitting and respecing the computer equipment in the van. He'd ripped out old tech and replaced it with new cutting edge, bleeding edge really. He wasn't going out into the field without the best he could muster. He'd ran a tab up with a few old friends in lulSec to get some of the newest tech and programs. Even paid an old timer for a new flashdrive filled with Nuke programs.

Drevan is booting up the rigging when Kingmaker calls back to him, "Hackerman...funny. Thanks boss." He grins, "Just waiting for feeds. Place those cams right folks." He hums, looking at the layout, "I think I can get wireless connections to security camera's but that's not going to do anything then let me peek..." he hums, looking over the blueprints he can pull up, "Hmmm, there's a junction box on the east side of the building..." He rubs his chin, "But is it worth the risk..."