Forward Operating Base – designation FOBSK000, Richborough.

"Report"  

The words spoken without noticeable accent, inflection or volume, nonetheless cut through the noise of the command room, causing the various operators to quiet their own chatter and focus intently on their work stations.  The Man (yes, he deserved the capitalisation!) strode across the metal floor of the temporary structure, which had been airlifted from a location that couldn't be found on any Ordnance Survey map of the UK and plonked down among the ancient Roman ruins of Richborough Fort.  His adjutant stood to attention by the comms units and saluted as she handed over a clipboard.  Without a glance at the printouts that bulged under the bulldog clip, he threw the board onto a nearby desk and turned back to the shaken woman. 

"I asked for a report, lieutenant. Do not make me ask again." 

With a visible effort, the officer pulled herself together and without reaching for the paperwork she began working her way through the progress report for the FOB.  

Communications had been restored following storm Daenerys disruptive electro-magnetic energies, restored that was for the military.  The civilian mobile phone networks and radio frequencies were still being jammed, this time by order of The Man and would continue to be blocked indefinitetly.  The narrow band used by the FOB was encrypted, with the crypkey included in the daily orders as per regs.

To date, thirty three civilian boats had been turned away by the British Armed Forces from efforts to cross the river Wantsum or make their way around the coastlines of Thanet toward the mainland.  A further seventeen had been "splashed", the civilians had ignored warnings to turn around and been destroyed by the military ring that now patrolled the far banks of the raging river and the English Channel.  Two had been destroyed by the Royal Navy as they made a break for the continent, France being a mere 25 miles away. 

The Man held up a leather gloved hand, forcing the officer to stutter to a stop. 

"Where is Smith?"  

The lieutenant glanced longingly at the clipboard, racking her brains for the current location of the mercenary and his team. 

"Birchington, sir. Following up a lead, so far he reports negative findings sir." 

The Man sighed, letting the barest hint of emotion show on his ordinarily bland countenance. The search for the girl and more importantly the package was taking too long, his scientists were practically salivating at the thought of getting hold of the data that had been gathered on "subject z" while it was still alive.   

"CONTACT! It’s the girl sir" 

The shout from a drone operator, caused the adjutant to visibly jump and whirl toward the young corporal manning the military grade spyware.   

The Man, strode over to the console glaring down at the monitor that showed a video link of the ambulance as it pulled out from under the canopy of old oak trees that lined a play park and onto a small street. The corporal, wilted under the intensity of the gaze of The Man stuttered his report. 

"Ramsgate sir, edge of Ellington park, looks like she's on the move." 

"How far away is Smith? 

The corporal consulted the map of the Island and made some quick calculations. 

"25 minutes, sir" 

The Man raised an eyebrow at his adjutant, who desperately wanted to be somewhere else at this time. 

"We can chopper in a strike team, ETA would be under 10 sir" 

The Man considered his options, Smith would be better at dealing with this sort of problem but the strike team was closer... 

"ready the helicopter lieutenant, instruct them to capture the girl if they can do so easily, if not terminate her.  The package is the priority!"