Nine-thirty p.m. Thursday, The Apartment, London
Mitch thought the hour would never come. He stood in the apartment lounge room getting his team—Nick, Adam, Ellen and Samantha—to cross-check their gear. Mitch wore basic civilian clothes; a loose black knitted sweater, jeans and black hiking boots. Underneath, he wore a thin Kevlar vest, bullet-proof and lightweight. Still, he shuffled uncomfortably as a light sweat formed on his skin. His watch microphone was on and the signal diverted to Adam’s earphones. Mitch carried a semi-automatic on his belt. He could feel the comforting weight of the g*n at his side.
“Start with you, Nick, check off.” Mitch worked through each of his team members. When they finished, he reaffirmed the mission.
“No heroes, OK? It’s not that important.”
They nodd
