Spears of Defiance

by David Holman

  Trevant had been informed of Kuwani’s death, but had agreed to go along with the tactics devised by Swan. The questioning was over and with Lakeema remaining under armed guard, the envoy emerged with Wyatt. Swan and Stratton acknowledged them as they came out of the room. ‘What’s happening, gentlemen?’ Swan was anxious for a breakthrough, but was disappointed to see the Head of Rhodesian Internal Security shake his head. ‘He’s going to be detained and flown back to Rhodesia,’ answered Wyatt, ‘we’re going to charge him with the murder of Kuwani.’

  Swan raised a brow. ‘Does he know he’s dead?’

  Wyatt shook his head again. ‘No, we still have him thinking Kuwani is recovering in hospital.’

  ‘I think I need to have a word.’ Swan marched over to the door and opened it to face Lakeema sitting at the table, in handcuffs. Trevant stood vigil after closing the door.

  Swan stood over the Rhodesian minister. ‘Mr Lakeema. You are aware that your life is now in danger. If you are deported back to Rhodesia, Kuwani will have you killed, and knowing his repertoire, your family too. I could arrange for you to be imprisoned here, if you co-operate with me.’ Still under supervision from the Rhodesian envoy, Swan pulled out a chair. ‘I just need you to cooperate. What was your motive to assassinate Kuwani?’

  Lakeema looked up, and for the first time, there was fear in his eyes. ‘You know yourself, Mr Swan, Jericho Kuwani is a warlord, a threat to our new nation. Something had to be done to stop him.’

  ‘Swan nodded. ‘So, are you telling me you acted alone?’

  Lakeema stared into Swan’s hazel eyes. ‘I want only the best for our country’s future, you understand? Kuwani will stop at nothing to get the control. He waits in the savanna like a leopard studying its prey, waiting for when the antelope is tired and off its guard. Then, he will strike!’

  ‘Yes, I understand,’ Swan nodded. ‘Tell me, where did you get the case containing the weapon?’

  ‘I had it made specially.’

  ‘From a man named, Compton Nash?’ Lakeema’s eyes widened in hearing the name. ‘You know him?’

  ‘I know of him. A former Selous Scout, I believe.’

  Lakeema stared back with pleading eyes. ‘Nash had nothing to do with my intentions, Mr Swan. He was only commissioned to produce the weapon.’

  ‘And what about when you tried to kill me in Salisbury? Were you acting alone then, because you thought I might foil your plan to kill Kuwani, or is this something Henry Mallinson instructed you to do?’

  Lakeema shifted in his seat. ‘I - I had no choice. I followed you to the restaurant and waited for you to leave.’

  ‘Then, it was you who also removed the file on Haldenbrook Farm?’

  Lakeema sighed in defeat. This man knew too much for him to deny. ‘Henry Mallinson threatened my family with his mercenary thugs,’ Lakeema resigned, ‘he needed a man inside Government House, someone he knew could make the farm disappear from the registry. Then, after I informed him of your visit, he said I must kill you.’

  Swan was now starting to see the full picture. ‘And, do you know why he wanted me dead and the farm to disappear?’

  ‘I understand it was being used for a major arms smuggling operation and you were getting too close.’

  ‘Indeed, it was being used for just that purpose,’ Swan lied, ‘enough for a small army.’

  ‘You said you could prevent me from going back, Mr Swan. What about my family?’

  Swan nodded. ‘I will talk with Mr Wyatt, see if anything can be done to keep them safe.’ He rose from his chair. ‘I can tell you, Henry Mallinson won’t be bothering you anymore, he was killed in a road accident in Kenya.’

  Lakeema’s jaw dropped with surprise. ‘Is this true?’

  Swan just nodded as Lakeema was then taken by the arm by Trevant and led out of the office, then walked out over to Wyatt who was talking with John Stratton and Andrew Gable. ‘He knew nothing of the Cascade Operation,’ he informed them, ‘he thought Mallinson was just smuggling arms.’

  Wyatt shrugged. ‘So, what about Kuwani?’

  Swan took a breath. ‘After Mallinson lost his trade contract, he was looking to get it back again, otherwise he was finished. The only way, was to somehow help to restore white rule. That way, his rival, this Captain Jack character, would be thrown in prison. Also, with the destruction of the dam, and the contamination of the Locust Rain, the new government would be put under immense pressure. The country’s starving already because of the war, and this disaster would’ve made things a lot worse. Think of Biafra, but on a much larger scale. Mallinson would have used this situation to his advantage by bringing in a conglomerate of white farmers and businessman to become saviours. The interim government would most probably be overthrown in a coup. This suggests to me, why he wanted Kuwani out of the way, because he would’ve also taken advantage. The assassination was already set up before the Buccaneer was to take off. Mallinson had even contracted Munroe to kill Kuwani in Salisbury by planting a bomb in his car. If the destruction of the dam got to him first, then that was the way it was to be.’ He looked over to the stairs as Lakeema was being led down them by Trevant. It now looks as though the late Mr Mallinson had a contingency plan.’

  Wyatt shook his head. ‘That’s only your theory, Alex. There’s not a lot of proof in what you say.’

  Swan turned to him. ‘There’s something else I haven’t said, and that is Kuwani had a lot of outside influence, influence who would benefit greatly if he was to gain power in Southern Africa.’

  Wyatt’s eyes narrowed. ‘You mean the Soviets and the Chinese?’

  Swan nodded. ‘Need I say anymore, Damien?’

  Wyatt looked at his watch again. ‘I must be getting back to Rhodesia House to make my report on all this.’ He turned to Swan and Gable. ‘Despite the circumstances, gentlemen, it’s been nice to work with you both, again.’

  They watched him leave the room, shaking hands with John Stratton as he left.

  Swan then moved his gaze through the window to the grounds of Lancaster House. ‘We should be getting back to the office, Andrew. I’ve got to go through the files, Janet has prepared for tomorrow.’ He continued to gaze out of the window, suddenly catching a glimpse of Damien Wyatt. ‘That’s odd. Wyatt is walking in the opposite direction for the Strand. He’s seems to be heading for Green Park.’

  Stratton joined him at the window, confirming Swan’s statement. ‘What’s he up to? He said he would be at Rhodesia House until tomorrow.’ He looked around the room and soon found who he was looking for. ‘Miss Lewis? I need you to do a spot of surveillance on someone.’

  Sophie Lewis came over to them. ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘The man who just left, Damien Wyatt.’ Stratton pointed to a figure in a light-coloured raincoat walking into the entrance of the royal park.

  ‘I see him, sir,’ she confirmed.

  ‘Just keep your distance and report to me later on his movements,’ instructed Stratton.

  Sophie Lewis grabbed her brown suede coat from the chair and briskly exited the room. This was the chance she had been waiting for. A way back to the job she loved.

  Swan turned to Stratton. ‘Is this really necessary, John? He could just want to go through the park and get a taxi or something.’

  Stratton shrugged. ‘You heard it yourself, Alex. He needed to get back for a meeting, question now is, who’s he meeting with? Also, why didn’t he just go back to the embassy with Trevant and Lakeema? To me, that would have been the most logical thing to do.’

  Outside, Sophie Lewis had her target in sight. Luckily, it was the time of day when the park was used as a cut through from Piccadilly to Trafalgar Square to Charing Cross Station, meaning the fifty-yard gap between her and Damien Wyatt had a scattering of oncoming commuters, making this pursuit less conspicuous. She knew her surveillance tradecraft, but still on her mind was the Savoy incident and would do her best not to repeat it. She saw Wyatt was almost at the Piccadilly exit. Where was he going?
/>   Exiting through the gates, he turned left. Lewis was surprised for a foreigner, he seemed to know exactly which direction to take. It was if every turn had been memorised. She maintained her distance. So far, he had not looked behind him, which meant that he was not suspecting to be followed.

  The pursuit continued along Piccadilly, the South African weaving in and out of the oncoming and slow-moving traffic of pedestrians walking in front of him. Lewis used them as much as she could by moving over to the right for a few yards, then switching to the left brushing the doorways of buildings.

  Her target then crossed the road and turning into Park Lane, crossed at the traffic lights to move into Hyde Park. Lewis followed, shielding herself casually behind a group of Japanese tourists, but keeping a watchful eye on her target. As she went through the park entrance, she paused.

  Ahead of her, Wyatt had stopped to talk to two men sitting on a bench. She remained near the Japanese crowd, almost blending with them.

  Moving herself to their off side, she passed Wyatt who was still standing talking. Looking directly ahead, she tried to catch a snippet of the conversation, but the howling wind rushing across the grass, whistled in her ears. She walked on, deciding to keep behind this crowd for a while longer before picking a suitable moment to return. She remembered the paperback in her coat, and feeling for it, was relieved to find it still there. Yes, it was a bit blustery to sit at another bench and read a Mills & Boon, but there were other techniques in her spy handbook she could try, such as the girl waiting for her date to meet her. Moving away from the tourists, she slowed to sit down, pulled the book out of her pocket and opened it. From her vantage point, she was able to use corner-eyeing with her peripheral vision to keep tabs on the men, and every minute or so, looked at her watch as if to show she was meeting with a dashing six-foot dark-haired man who would soon be walking up to her. She already had someone in mind, but at this stage could only fantasise Simon Laindon would approach her and whisk her off to the nearest hotel. She thought of the Ritz; first, there would be dinner and expensive champagne, followed by a short trip in the lift upstairs to one of the plush rooms with her dream man.

  Her pleasant reverie was suddenly disturbed as the two men stood up and began to walk with Wyatt in her direction. Should she stand up and move away? No, that would be too obvious. She decided to sink into her book. The men were getting closer and noticing their trajectory, would walk close by her. Would Wyatt be suddenly attracted to her, then recognise her as the girl from the control room? If he did, it would mean she would’ve been compromised again, and Stratton would be commissioning such a building as he mentioned during her reprimand, just for her. It was too late now. She had to remain where she was.

  She sank deeper into her book, almost as if she was willing this moment to go away. To her joy, a jogger appeared, and running head-on, caused the three men to move over to the right, away from where Lewis was sat.

  Almost keeping the same pace behind him, a young mother was pushing a Silver Cross pushchair with a small crying infant, suggesting she was late for feeding time, or a long overdue nappy change.

  The woman passed her at the same time as Wyatt and the two other men walked by.

  Lewis kept her head down. As their shadows from the setting sun cast over her, she flinched as one of them bellowed out a guttural laugh, a laugh she had heard many times before. She waited for them to pass, then looked up. My god, it was who she had thought. The distinctive bald patch on top of this head was all that it took to know this. What was he doing here?

  Lewis allowed them to get further away down the leafy-bordered path before continuing. She needed to find out who this other man was. As she followed, she watched them closely as they continued their conversation. The best way to discuss confidential matters was out in the open while walking in a public place, and she assumed this is what was happening right now; especially if he, was involved.

  Their walk took them along the south side of the park. Then, having reached the Albert Memorial, they stopped. Sophie Lewis also stopped. She walked over to a bench and sat down. Half-shielded by a large bush, she continued observing from her position as the three men suddenly became two. She continued to watch as Wyatt, accompanied by the man she knew, walked out of the park into Knightsbridge, flagging down a black taxi, while the stranger continued on through the park along South Carriage Drive.

  Lewis decided to follow him. After all, it’s what Mr Stratton would expect her to do. Her new target exited the park and turned into Palace Avenue. Then, just before Kensington Palace, turned left, then right into Kensington Palace Gardens.

  At this point, Lewis suddenly had a thought this could be a counter-move from her surveillance, fearing she had indeed been compromised. She decided to hold back. The street was long, so even at a distance, she could still discretely observe him. Then seeing the different flags flying diagonally from the buildings ahead, she realised something else. This was Embassy Row.

  The man walked on. First, he passed the Finnish Embassy, then the French Embassy. Finally, he came to the last building before the street hit Bayswater Road.

  Sophie Lewis was only twenty yards away, when she watched him move into the courtyard and under the red flag of the hammer and sickle.

  As he passed, he received a salute from the uniformed guard then disappeared inside the ornate white building of the Soviet embassy.

  She stood perplexed at what she had just seen. But, more to the point, was what she would say in her meeting with John Stratton in the morning.

  32

  The winter sun was just rising above the hills, as Jimmy-Boy Kerrigan passed a bottle of beer to each of his two men at his family farm outside Londonderry.

  Although it was too early for most people, they had earned it. The cache of rifles and grenades were secure inside the boot of the green Ford Granada, ready to transport to the Brigade’s safehouse in the city.

  Kerrigan raised his bottle. ‘Well, cheers, lads.’

  Swigging down their drinks, they filed through the hallway of the farmhouse. Kerrigan locked the door and followed his men to the car.

  Fifty yards away, Phillip Munroe observed the three of them through the same binoculars he had used at Haldenbrook Farm, and again he had assumed a prone position in a copse of bushes overlooking the farmhouse.

  From this point, he could clearly see the front of the house and the car. Earlier, he had watched them loading the arms. It was now just a matter of waiting. Through his binoculars, he could see Kerrigan standing by the car, lighting up a cigarette.

  The two other men were already inside. One sat in the driver’s seat, while the other had climbed to sit behind him.

  Kerrigan wanted to finish his cigarette before moving off. His wife, Nicole, hated the smell of the tobacco in the family saloon. Especially, when she had the twins in the car. For this operation, he had sent her to her sister’s house across the Glengomma Valley; this was not a time for children to be running around. Taking one final puff, he flicked the spent butt towards a low dry-stone wall to join others already there and climbed into the car.

  From his concealed spot, Munroe tensed. A few weeks ago, in Rhodesia, he had driven the Leopard back to Salisbury having to explain to Nash the damage to the roll cage and despite being warned not to, the reason for having to use the nitrous oxide, and the result of doing so. Having completed this task, there had been only one more thing he wanted to do.

  After travelling to Belfast, he had met up with some of his old Parachute Regiment pals and explaining to them his intentions, they were more than pleased to help him out by obtaining the special things he would need for his plan.

  During the night, despite the chained Doberman barking into the darkness, Munroe had waited for it to settle before taking himself and his bag of tricks to the car. It had only taken eighteen minutes to first drug the dog with a nice rump steak packed with a tranquilliser, do what he had to do, then return back to the hide for a short snooze.

&nb
sp; Inside the car, the three men were laughing as they discussed the rest of their day. Getting the cache to the safehouse was routine, but they were also aware of the extra army road blocks set up since the summer, so expected to have to execute a few diversions to get into the centre of Londonderry.

  Kerrigan looked at his watch. ‘We better get going,’ he suggested, ‘might even be in time for a wee bit of breakfast, eh lads?’

  Beside him, the driver liked the sound of that. He had enjoyed the early morning beer, but needed something substantial inside him to cope with the rest of today. Now excited in soon seeing the plate of eggs, sausage, bacon and boxty with a decent cup of coffee, he eagerly rammed the keys into the ignition and turned it.

  Even from the distance the South African observed, the intense heat of the explosion ripping through the saloon, scorched his face. Dropping the binoculars, he watched the rising fireball in front of him with his own eyes. He had come all this way and now got what he wanted, since the night him and Siobhan Hennessy had been chased along the Regent’s Canal.

  He also saw this as some sort of divine retribution for losing some friends among the fatalities at Warrenpoint, where 18 soldiers of the Parachute Regiment had been killed by two consecutive controlled explosions, the same day as the murder of a distinguished member of the royal family, off the coastal town of Mullaghmore.

  For the first time in almost a month, there was a big smile on his face, knowing not only was this an act of vengeance for the girl, but also it meant one load of arms wouldn’t be hitting the city streets to find their way into the hands of IRA snipers; he had most probably at least, saved some soldiers’ lives today.

  Taking a long last look at the burning mess of mangled metal, Phillip Munroe walked back to his rental car and putting on his seatbelt, he reached over for the map on the passenger seat and checked his route. Ahead of him, was a two and half hour drive to a house in Chapeltown, County Down, and after slightly hesitating before flicking on the ignition, he turned the car onto the road and drove away from the acrid black smoke bellowing in his rear view mirror.