London

          “I remember the first football game I took my son to. Perfect seats. Perfect weather. The home team won the match. All in all, it had the makings of a perfect day. Except for the fact that my son wouldn’t stop screaming because he was missing his favorite show on the telly. That’s when I knew Pierce was too spoiled for his own good but nothing could be done,” Seamus said, his head resting in his hands. He glanced up at his companion. “I’ve killed my son.”

          “No you did not,” Barbara Kingsley said, touching Seamus’ face. “This was not your fault, Seamus.”

          “Then tell me whose fault it is, Barbara… Tell me so my son can rest in peace,” Seamus pleaded. Barbara sat back and studied Seamus for a moment before handing him a thick manila folder.

          “They call themselves Team SOS and they are led by an American named Kate Mitchell. Everything you need to find them is in there,” Barbara said, pointing at the folder. Seamus nodded.

          “Thank you, Barbara. You have been too kind to me over the years. Taking care of my IRA affliation so that I could get my knighthood, loving me.. Which just makes this that much harder,” Seamus sighed.

          “Makes what so much harder?” Barbara asked, stroking Seamus’ face. She opened her mouth to ask again when Seamus thrust a blade into her breast. Barbara’s eyes widened for a split second before she fell limp.

          The next morning a Bobbie on patrol spotted the body on the banks of the Thames. With a sigh, he walked over and poked the body to make sure it was dead before rolling it over.

          “Cripes!” He yelled, stumbling back a few feet. Lying in front of him was the body of the director of MI5. There was a note attached to her chest with a three inch blade.

          Kate Mitchell and Team SOS: This is not over. You took my eldest son; I will not rest until I take what is dearest to you.