*

"Major Thompson, good to meet you," Detective Peterson greeted the Marine Company commander with his voice raised to a shout.

He had to project his voice to be audible above the spinning rotor blades of the Commando Helicopter Wildcat AH Mk1 that had just delivered the Major and his support team.

The side of the helicopter carried their emblem and its motto: Ex Alto Concutimus, that he later learned to mean ‘We Strike From On High'.

He felt incredibly intimidated by the flurry of activity.

Within the hour since his call to his RAF contact the Typhoons had almost immediately undertaken a rapid, followed by a slower, flypast of the estate.

They had concurred with the suspicious vehicles strewn about and also spotted further damage and debris marking the path of the destruction of the giantess to the coast. They had identified large footprints in the ground from the air.

Thereafter the grounds of the estate had become, what could only be described as, a mass landing zone for approximately 100 or more Royal Marine Commandos, led by the Major.

The unmistakable Chinooks and various other helicopters were thumping back and forth dropping Marine Commandos in, hovering a few feet above the ground, allowing them all to disembark and then thumping away again to pick up more, an initial reconnaissance platoon had entered the Mansion and confirmed that they had found evidence of the laboratory.

The majority of it seemed to have been sabotaged.

There was a wide sinkhole between the Mansion house and the hanger exit. The Royal Engineers were being sent to accompany them.

It turned out that there was a huge basement in there but it seemed to have collapsed.

The major suspected that the organisation had demolished it to slow down any investigations. It had been hastily done, it wasn’t a thorough job.

Peterson’s team had walked into the tunnel about twenty metres before anyone had arrived, as much as they had dared without its lights on in there. They had just used the torches on their smartphones. They had counted at least twelve armed dead bodies and various other unarmed people. All armed men were wearing black tactical outfits.

He had reported that to the RAF when the marines were en route flying over from wherever they had come from. It had earned them several fighter jets flying past and then a pair of Apache helicopters had arrived with the first pair of marine filled helicopters. 

"Thanks for the call Detective Peterson. Great work in finding this place," the Major had a very relaxed persona and exuded calm and control.

He helped make Peterson feel a bit more comfortable with the situation.

He gestured for the Detective to join him.

“Thank you for sharing your files and findings with us, I was particularly interested in the information about this shrinking technology. I would like your team to join my search parties. It sounds like you have been following this organisation for a long time and I'm sure will know what to look for," the Major continued before Peterson could reply.

"My men have conducted a sweep of any surveillance equipment or any booby traps, IEDs or anything of the sort so it is safe for you to enter the house now."

"Thank you Major, yes Detective Dawson and I have been investigating this organisation for a number of years now, I'm also looking for evidence of a number of missing British citizens."

The Major nodded sagely.

"I also have orders to gather intelligence but I'm sure we can work together, if we share our findings," the Major stated. “I have spoken to the Police Commissioner for Portsmouth and he is flying over here. Until then you are the senior ranking civilian police officer, Detective Peterson, and until otherwise informed you are in charge of this crime scene.”

Peterson nodded in agreement and thanks. He was surprised, he had expected the Major to march in and muscle him out, but he was following protocol, and the law.

An Apache helicopter buzzed overhead, visible in the sunset of the sky, red and green lights blinking away on its avionics; it was loaded to the teeth with armaments.

Royal Marines were starting to set up field tents, generators, flood lights and equipment. The Major was setting up a command post and a tent to store any findings.   

The Major strode over to his command tent and left Peterson to his own devices; Peterson turned to his small team who were crowded around on their own; drinking coffee from travel mugs that the Royal Marines had given them.

In typical military fashion the first thing that the soldiers had done as soon as possible was to fix up a brew. They had been kind enough to share it with the police.

Peterson clapped his hands together as he approached them.

“Okay, let’s get in there before it gets dark and see what we can find, anyone like basements?”