DELIVERANCE: a gripping action thriller full of suspense by Jackson Cole Page B

will give them some breathing space, and hopefully some time to ask Sarah a few questions.
     
    Quinn is thinking through her plans whilst driving, when her phone rings in her pocket. A single beep, no vibration.
    ‘Tst,’ she says into the mouthpiece.
    New intelligence . So you had better be on the fucking move , the gruff voice declares.
    ‘I am, sir. Vehicle acquired, heading for Fort Baldwin.’
    They have already left Fort Baldwin and they are now in a helicopter , on a flight course for Adelaide as predicted. They will need two fuel stops.
    ‘Understood,’ Quinn says, just before the line is disconnected.
    Adelaide is over 1,500km from her, which is not great, but she nevertheless has contingency plans in place. She hits speed dial seven on the phone and it’s answered on the second ring.
    Tst , the voice says.
    ‘Groth. It’s Quinn,’ she says in a clear tone. ‘What is your status?’
    I have collected the girls from the airport . They are drugged and ready for training . Groth responds.
    Quinn smiles. The training that Groth mentioned will be horrific.
    ‘I need you to outsource the training. I have a new order for you, and it takes precedence.’
    What is going on?
    ‘It’s the Whittaker issue.’
    I thought that was supposed to be dealt with already ? Groth states.
    ‘Watch your tongue, Groth,’ Quinn orders.
    Sorry, sir. What do you need ?
    ‘They are heading your direction, in a chopper. They will need fuel stops, but they should be with you inside four hours. They will be heading for Jefferson, as discussed, but they will be cautious, I’m sure. I’m certain they will land near to the airport and then walk into town.’
    They ? Groth asks.
    ‘Marshall and his brother are with her.’
    Understood , Groth answers and disconnects.
     
    Marshall is using the flight time to try and get his rusty brain into gear. He has pulled up his cuff GPS map and already chosen a landing point in Adelaide, near to the airport. Now he needs to think about fuel. As they fly over a few small towns Marshall spots an all-night garage blazing away.
    ‘Sarah, land us on the roof of that garage.’
    Are you insane ? She responds.
    ‘No.’
    I don’t know if it will even take the weight , she exclaims.
    ‘It will,’ Marshall states. ‘Fact.’
    Without another word, Sarah descends towards the filling station and lands expertly on the roof. Again, Marshall remembers he must ask her where she learned to fly.
    Marshall shimmies down the support poles for the roofing structure. Then he enters the serving booth.
    ‘Sir!’ Marshall calls out to the teller as he lets the push door fall closed behind him. ‘We have a code red one-four-six emergency and have negotiated an emergency landing upon the roof of your structure. Please immediately release fuelling on one of the high octane fuel pumps so that we can continue our mission.’
    The clerk looks at Marshall, and then at the helicopter on the roof. Finally his wide eyes return to Marshall again.
    ‘Sir, we really have no time to lose,’ Marshall continues. ‘You are authorised to commence refuelling under section one-two-seven-A of the military practice code. My name is Major Paul McCartney, and I am currently asking you to commence refuelling of our attack helicopter. Please do not force me to make it an order.’
    The clerk barely has enough time to think, he simply presses a button to authorise one of the fuelling pumps. Marshall knows Charlie will have heard it and will be attaching a fuelling line to the Puma.
    ‘For your own safety, please remain at your station until we have departed, sir,’ Marshall says, completing the facade with a salute.
    The clerk nods his head and does not dare move.
    As Marshall turns for the door, his eyes catch the array of food and drink available.
    ‘We’ll be needing some supplies too,’ he tells the clerk. ‘I’ll give you a list.’
    Marshall gets back outside a few minutes later, and grabs the fuelling line that Charlie