Clamouring to become visible...

The story so far...Gideon has just arrived in Scotland and been picked up from the airport by a limousine with diplomatic plates registered to the Vatican. As the car drives out of sight, another limousine arrives outside the airport...

“Hello? Hello?” McKenzie shouted into the handset, but the call was over. He thumped the roof of the car, and the expletive was lost in the roar of an engine from another plane taking off. He folded up the phone and placed it into his breast pocket. At the entrance to the airport, another man in a dark suit was arguing with an armed police officer. Foolish, except the officer looked scared. The shouting man waived his arms around frantically as his face became redder and redder. Eventually he gave up and stormed towards McKenzie, leaving the officer looking shaken.

"Feel better?"

"Fuck feeling better. They lost him! They fucking lost him." The shouting man began to kick the tyres of the car. McKenzie reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. He placed one to his lips before offering the pack to his colleague. The shouting man glanced at it, then waived his hand. "I’ve quit."

"That’s why you’re such a crabbit bastard." He lit the cigarette and inhaled, before blowing the smoke into the air above him. "You should take it back up. Might relax you." Another drag. "The planes and the radar are making it impossible to get a call through to the Vatican. I've left a message for Mancini, but.. well, I got some wee Italian lassie on switchboard, and I'm not sure she understood."

"Who knew Gideon was coming here?" Shouting man had slumped against the side of the car awkwardly. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and hunched his shoulders.

McKenzie looked off towards the road past the airport. "No one. Only Mancini and the team here. What did the DPO have to say about it?"

"They met Gideon at the gate, brought him through, and there was a black limo outside, with the flags and a diplomatic licence plate. Gideon got in, completely calm, and it drove off."

"Did they get the number?"

"They didn't think to. I've told him to pull it off the CCTV." The shouting man pointed to one of the numerous cameras that covered the entrance to the airport. McKenzie nodded, and they stood in silence for a while. "Fuck it. Hand it over." McKenzie snorted a laugh, and passed the cigarettes over. His colleague lit one and took one long draw. "Ooh I have missed this..."

"Your pal's coming." McKenzie pointed over to the terminal. The diplomatic protection officer that had spent a good five minutes being shouted at, scuttled out of the building. He approached nervously. "We've got the licence details. It was..." He pulled out a scrap of paper, then glanced at the car. "Oh." He handed the paper over to McKenzie who read it, looked at the licence plate of their own car, then back to the scrap of paper. Without saying a word, he passed the paper to his colleague. "Fuck! They fucking faked our licence! The bastards!" He screwed up the paper into a ball and threw it on to the ground. McKenzie dismissed the protection officer, and got in the car. Someone knew Gideon was coming. They knew when he would arrive. They even knew what car would be collecting him. And they had got there first. Mancini was not going to like this.