by AJ Frazer
“What do you want to do? I can make arrangements and change your diary, but I expect Ray will be furious.”
Dominic grunted, with a dismissive nod.
“Seriously, Dominic, this is highly unorthodox—and to not even tell you where you’ll be meeting is ridiculous.”
“Yes, it is.” He was thinking about the ramifications of what was being asked of him in the email. Essentially, to be ready to leave the next day, go to an unspecified destination, for an indeterminate amount of time. Ridiculous.
“Excuse me, Mr. Elliston,” came a no-nonsense female voice from behind him. He turned to see a petite woman in a dark jacket and skirt, flanked by two men in dark suits. “I’m Susan Hale. I’m with the SIS.” She held up her credentials, which Dominic took and read closely. “Mr. Elliston, I apologize for intruding on your event. However, we need to speak.”
Dominic nodded. “Yes, Ms. Hale, how may I help you?” He handed back her credentials and remained in his seat. He wasn’t a great fan of MI6, or whatever they called themselves these days, and he certainly did not appreciate their presence at his dinner.
“Sir, it would be preferable to speak in private.”
“Well, as you can see, I am engaged in a charity event, one of which I am the benefactor and, to be quite honest, it is rather alarming that you should come here harassing me like this.”
“We are not here to harass you, sir. Perhaps we could step out into the corridor for a more discreet conversation?”
Dominic looked at Jacqueline, who stared back wide-eyed. “I’ll go have a chat with Ms. Hale,” he said. “You stay here and make something up if anyone asks where I’ve gone.”
Dominic followed Hale out into a long white corridor. One of the men peeled off and took station at the door to prevent anyone disturbing them.
They continued to walk down the hall a short way. Their footsteps echoing off the concrete surfaces surrounding them.
“So, what is this about?” demanded Dominic.
Hale turned to face him. She was at least a foot shorter than him, but she looked physically strong and had a handsome, borderline masculine face, which was framed by dark hair cut above her shoulders.
“Mr. Elliston, I head up an anti-terrorist division that is investigating Victor Sagen and Earth Ghost. Cutting to the chase, we know you are in contact with him. We also know he has requested a meeting with you and that it is likely to happen very soon.”
“You seem to know a lot, Ms. Hale. In fact, I am quite stunned that you have admitted to the head of a major media organization that you are clearly hacking private citizens’ email accounts. My own, in fact.” Dominic was both genuinely surprised and outraged that his private emails had been compromised.
“I can assure you, we are well within the bounds of the law and that any surveillance carried out is done so with the utmost scrutiny and legal approval. Now, you asked what this was about. Well, I need your help, Mr. Elliston,” she said earnestly.
“My help?”
“Yes, we need you to help us in our investigation of Victor Sagen.”
“You have to be kidding me. You can’t seriously be asking me to help you investigate the leader of the most militaristic eco-terrorism group in the world? Absolutely not. I will not be party to anything so foolish.”
“Need I remind you that Victor Sagen is responsible for at least twelve deaths and billions upon billions of pounds’ worth of damages? He has singlehandedly inspired thousands of people to vandalize and destroy public and corporate property under the guise of being pro-environment.”
“Need I remind you,” Dominic hissed through his teeth, “that as an independent news organization, we are under a code of conduct to maintain the anonymity and safety of our sources and to ensure completely unbiased journalism. How long do you think we would be in business if Jagged Edge was known to be supporting a witch-hunt by MI6 or SIS or whatever you want to call yourselves?”
Hale sighed, eyes darting to the right to avoid Dominic’s glare.
“I’ll tell you how long, Ms. Hale. Not. Very.”
“I was hoping that you would be more cooperative, Mr. Elliston. I really did not want to have to disturb a judge at this time of the evening in order to force you to help us, but I will.”
Dominic loomed over Hale, who did not budge or back down in the slightest. “You go wake your judge and have them contact my lawyer and see how that goes,” he said. “My team will have you wrapped up in legalese for weeks. By which time, the ship will have sailed.”
“Please, Mr. Elliston,” started Hale in a patronizing tone, “when it comes to terrorism, we have special allowances for making things happen expeditiously.”
“Well then, I suggest you go play with your allowances, because I will not willingly help you do your dirty work.”
Hale looked curiously at Dominic. “Mr. Elliston, we’re not in the habit of strong-arming people to help us, but I must point out that there are those in our organization who would not hesitate to make things rather uncomfortable for Jagged Edge Media. M&As, affiliate arrangements, news sourcing … All of these things can be made, well, difficult.”
Dominic felt the fury rising up inside. He’d seen MI6 do this before. As a war correspondent, he’d been exposed to the tactics of the cunning, ruthless minds at MI6. Their deceit knew no bounds in their continual service for queen and country. All for the greater good though, old boy.
“I know all too well the lengths MI6 will go to in order to get what they want. And now you come here demanding I help you? Think again, Ms. Hale.” He turned and walked away.
“Keep your phone on, Mr. Elliston, and expect a call!” Hale’s words chased Dominic down the corridor.
“Go fuck yourself,” he said under his breath.
Returning to the table, he leaned into Jacqueline’s ear. “Jacs, please explain to Anna that I have had to leave, but that tonight was extraordinary and she should be very proud.”
Jacqueline spun around in her seat. “Yes, of course, Dom. So, what the hell did they want?”
“Guess,” replied Dominic shortly, struggling to contain his anger.
“Sagen?”
“In one.”
“Christ, so what exactly do they want you to do?”
Dominic looked around the table; most of the seats were empty now and no one was within earshot. “They want me to help them investigate Sagen. They want to capture him and I suspect they want me to lead them right to him.”
“Well, bugger that. They can’t put you in that sort of danger.”
“I certainly hope not. They’ll be contacting Julian. He should keep them at bay until this is all over.”
“Right. Well, is there anything else I can do?”
Dominic gave her a half smile. “No, not right now, thank you. Just please pass on my apologies. Enjoy the rest of the night. I’m going home to pack.”
“So, you’re actually going to go through with it, then?”
“The interview? Of course. I can handle myself. I’ve dealt with far more dangerous people than Victor Sagen.”
“OK. Well, I’ll manage your commitments and inform Ray. Expect a call, though.”
“Funny, that’s what Hale said. I’ll deal with Ray when I get back.”
Jacqueline stood and hugged him. “Be careful, Dom.”
“I will. See you in a day or two.”
Sliding into the back seat of the Mercedes, Dominic slouched down and put his elbow on the windowsill, hand to his forehead. “Back to Hampstead, thanks, Alex.”
“‘Ave you home in no time, chief,” said Alex in his thick cockney accent as he accelerated smoothly away.
The Sagen situation was moving far too quickly for his liking. Sagen was pushing for a meeting and creating such urgency that it was leaving Dominic exposed. Not just as a journalist, because he had done no research, but from a security perspective. For some reason, this didn’t bother him as much as it probably should have. In fact, it was refreshingly invigora
ting. The added complexity of MI6 was not helpful. He didn’t trust them in the slightest and he certainly didn’t appreciate being made the patsy in their attempt to capture Sagen.
The car floated quietly through London on its way to Hampstead where Dominic owned a large terraced house on Parkhill Road just south of the heath. The streets were relatively quiet for London and the car made good time.
Dominic’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Looking at the screen, he saw Julian McBeth’s name. Christ, they weren’t messing around.
Dominic ignored the pleasantries. “Julian, I take it you’ve been contacted regarding the Sagen matter. What’s the deal?”
“Not good and neither is being disturbed at this bloody hour by the government,” said the lawyer. “Simple answer is you need to comply with MI6. Fully.”
“Bloody hell! What if I refuse?”
“You can be held in custody until they find something to throw at you. And, based on the conversation I just had, they will find something to throw at you—and rather hard I might add.”
“Jesus,” said Dominic.
“You know, this Sagen chap is a rather unsavory character. You’d be doing a service by helping MI6.”
“Not you, too, Julian. It’s not whether he’s a good person or not, it’s that Jagged Edge doesn’t screw its sources and we do not get involved in the government’s dirty work.”
“Of course, Dom, I’m just saying—”
“I know what you’re saying.” Taking a breath, Dominic started again. “So, I don’t have a choice. I either do the interview and help MI6 or decline the interview completely.”
Julian hesitated before answering. “My advice—my strong advice—is to help MI6 in every way possible. And that would mean doing the interview and complying with their requests.”
“Well, that’s bloody marvelous, isn’t it.”
“I’m sorry, Dom. These new terrorism laws put immense power into the government’s hands, MI6’s in particular.”
“I understand when it’s religious fundamentalism or right-wing neo-Nazis, but come on … environmentalists?”
“It’s all terrorism in the government’s mind.”
“Right. You better call them in the morning and tell them I’ll comply.” Though Dominic had no intention of doing any such thing.
“Yes, well, Ms. Hale will be arriving at your house in the next thirty minutes to brief you. I suggest I come over too.”
“What? Oh, fine! Come over and join the fucking party.” Dominic hung up without waiting for a reply. He knew Julian was a superb lawyer and would only be recommending this course of action because there was no other way.
Lost in his thoughts, time seemed to slip away and before he knew it they were passing through Chalk Farm. His phone vibrated again in his pocket. It was Ray.
“Yes,” answered Dominic.
“The investigators have confirmed their findings. Veda Analytics and Vivek are dirtier than pigs in shit. We’re completely fucked.”
Dominic rubbed his forehead and sighed. The night had just got even worse. “OK. What are the chances of someone else digging up this information?”
“Close to nil, according to the investigators.”
“Good. OK, business as usual on the acquisition process, keep it all progressing. Do nothing else until we speak.”
“Once it gets out, this will make us look like complete—”
“I don’t give a damn how this looks, Ray! And I’ve not yet made my decision.”
“Fine, but we have to make a call in the next forty-eight hours.”
“Agree. Talk soon.” Dominic hung up and pocketed the phone as the Mercedes came to a gentle stop outside his home. He opened the door and heaved himself wearily into the cool air, expecting to see Hale standing outside his house. “Good night, Alex.”
“Night, chief,” replied Alex. He was a thickset man in his fifties, with permanent stubble and coiffed long dark hair, streaked with silver. He’d served briefly with Dominic in the Royal Marines but had been in Dominic’s employ for many years as his driver and personal minder. Not that he was up to much in the way of personal security, but he brought a sense of solidity and consistency to Dominic’s life.
The car pulled away as Dominic took a step toward the front door. The lights were on inside and the huge bay windows flanking the main door looked inviting and warm. As he took another step, time slowed almost to a standstill. He heard soft footsteps and sensed movement behind him, then felt strong hands on both arms. His legs seized up and his whole body went rigid. Within a split second his mind caught up. He struggled and resisted the force of the powerful hands that were upon him.
“What the— Wait!” he spluttered.
His breath was labored and his mind reeled as a thick hood was whipped over his head, cutting out all vision and restricting his breathing.
The hands seemed to be all over him—his arms, back, head.
No words, no sound.
Shoved from behind, Dominic was inside a vehicle and a door rolled shut. A strong arm wrapped around his torso from behind, pinning him to the seat. Both arms were clasped in iron grips from either side. He was totally immobilized.
His breathing was fast and shallow. He desperately tried to compose himself. “Who are you? What is this?” he demanded, in a less than authoritative voice.
No one spoke.
His hands were pushed tightly together, which he resisted until his wrists were zip-tied. Then his ankles.
Fuck. He was being kidnapped.
Chapter Six
“What’s going on? Who the hell are you?” demanded Dominic again, struggling to conceal the panic in his voice even though it was muffled by the hood.
Silence.
He started to wrestle violently against his captors, lifting his knees and desperately trying to rock his torso free. The plastic zip ties bit painfully into his wrists. He continued to struggle with no effect other than to exhaust himself. Whoever was holding him was strong and unrelenting.
They clearly weren’t in a hurry. The car was driving steadily, taking corners at what felt like a pretty average speed, which meant they were confident they—whoever they were—had got away with no one noticing.
Like muscle memory, his training flooded back to him. Breathe, listen, smell, feel. Just because you can’t see, doesn’t mean you’re fucked. Was that what the instructor on his Royal Marines counter-terrorism course had said? She definitely said to save your energy and take opportunities when they came up. Dominic willed himself to calm down and stop wrestling against the bonds. “Would someone please tell me what this is about!”
“Stay calm, Mr. Elliston,” came a male voice, gentle and soothing. “You are perfectly safe and will remain so.” The accent wasn’t British; perhaps Swiss, or German?
Dominic panted beneath the dark hood, his mind spinning through all the possible scenarios. He figured kidnappers would say anything to keep their prey calm, particularly while on the move in public.
“Fuck you! Tell me what’s happening!”
“We are transporting you to an airfield where you will be taken by private jet to conduct your interview,” came the voice, just as calmly as before.
It took a moment for his words to register in Dominic’s overstimulated neural network.
“Sagen?”
“Correct. I must apologize for the manner in which we greeted you.”
“Greeted? You mean abducted!”
“As you wish, Mr. Elliston. The point is, our method was dictated by MI6’s actions. We regret that it had to be like this. However, we could not take the chance that you would conspire to aid them in their pursuit of Mr. Sagen.”
“Jesus Christ! You could have just asked.”
“Well, of course. However, time was against us this evening. We could not afford a lengthy conversation about getting into a van with a group of strangers and whether you would be willing to have a sack put over your head. Hardly something a sane and considered person
would do without considerable contemplation and discussion. I’m sure you agree.”
He had a point. Dominic remained still, willing himself to calm down. “I suppose. How did you know MI6 were in contact with me?”
“They have been keeping a close eye on our communications for some time and so we too have been keeping an eye on theirs. We knew they had approached you this evening and we also recognize that, legally, you would be compelled to aid them.”
Dominic was relieved that it was Sagen’s people who had him bundled up in this van. He took a deep breath and exhaled. “OK, fine. Well, you have me now. Can you please remove the bloody hood and ties?”
“The ties, yes. The hood, no,” said the voice evenly. “For your own safety and your ability to deny any knowledge of Mr. Sagen’s whereabouts following the interview.”
Dominic had to admit it would be good to genuinely not know anything about Sagen’s location. He couldn’t give up information he didn’t know.
The ties were cut loose and Dominic rubbed his wrists and spread his feet apart.
“How long to the airfield?” he asked.
Silence.
“Right.” Dominic resigned himself to the fact that he’d get nothing out of this crew.
Finally, after who knew how long, the van stopped and the door slid open. A passenger to Dominic’s left got out, and he heard the front-left door open and slam shut. He didn’t move.
“All right, Mr. Elliston, please leave the hood on and step out,” the voice instructed.
Dominic got up in a low crouch and was aided by multiple hands to ensure he did not hit his head or trip. Once outside, Dominic noticed the air was a good few degrees cooler than in London, suggesting they were in the countryside—hardly surprising.
“I will lead you to the plane now, Mr. Elliston,” said the voice.
“Fine.” He was still less than thrilled at being hooded.
Once on the plane, Dominic was seated and his lap belt done up.
“Once we are off the ground and en route, you may remove the hood,” said the voice, sounding borderline chipper now.
“Good.” Dominic was still surprised at how calm he was. He had been told he was being taken by Sagen’s team, but he was still going in blind. Literally.
