The Hunt series Boxset 2

by Tim Heath

  The first alarms sounded at just after ten––midday in Moscow from where the sabotage was being directed. Filipov had given the instruction to his team of experts that morning to test out their infiltration of the power plant's system. Crews quickly ran into position. The main reactors were heating up well above their usual levels, the output increasing, though there was no obvious explanation.

  Thirty minutes after it first started happening, a call was put to the authorities. The Chancellor herself was informed. A silent evacuation was in place, the Germans intent on downplaying the danger for the time being until they understood what was going on.

  The scientists inside the power plant were frantic. Nothing made any sense as to what was happening or why. They checked the system twice. No instructions had been applied, nothing changed that would have led to the alert. It was possible that the temperature settings were faulty. Maybe the computer readout or the thermometers themselves were malfunctioning? That would explain the results, the reason behind the alarm. It would mean there was no danger at all. But testing would take time. A crew with chemical hazard gear was checking the structure for leaks. Another would try and locate the structure that housed the thermometers and heating analysis equipment.

  Once they got to that spot, however, it was clear that all the equipment was working. The walls were radiating heat, the equipment picking up on that as much as the crew were sweating inside their suits. They quickly left the area.

  The news of the recorded excess heat was met with fear. By three that afternoon, that whole region of Germany was put on high alert. The army was called to help move families from the area. The incident had made the national news, carried across Europe before the hour was out. Germany was in danger of a nuclear reactor meltdown. Surrounding countries were on high alert themselves. Wind speed was intense, and any radioactive leak could easily be blown in their direction.

  As the base went critical, helicopters flew the remaining staff members out. They were effectively leaving as there was nothing more they could do. They’d failed in their attempt to stabilise the danger, and the plant now faced an imminent meltdown. It would easily be the worse nuclear disaster on European soil since Chernobyl.

  At eight in the evening, the world now waiting for the inevitable, and with the nuclear experts looking on in shock––Europe was now very dependent on this energy source, the news story bringing much terror and dismay across the continent––the critical situation corrected itself. At what must have been moments before the first explosion would have inevitably taken place, leading to the full nuclear meltdown, the affected reactor had switched itself off.

  Half an hour later, the temperature was recorded to be ten per cent less already and cooling fast. Everybody breathed a sigh of relief. Everyone watching on was baffled. Nobody could understand what had just happened, except one person.

  Bethany May had wondered for a while. She’d been aware of Filipov’s connection to nuclear power as she had once met with his team, without his knowledge, she was sure. They’d shared with her the loophole Filipov wanted them to exploit, having been reluctant to carry out such a move. She’d gone her separate way without passing judgement. She doubted he would ever be in a position to do anything with the knowledge, but his success in winning the election and then the last ten hours had finally proved her wrong.

  She knew without any doubt that Filipov was behind the incident. Russia would use it to threaten Europe, and what a threat it was. Unless you do things our way, we’ll make your own reactors cause a nuclear meltdown. Most power plants were near enough to large cities to cause incredible damage. The threat was genuine.

  And now she knew for sure. Filipov had not only been able to complete the backdoor entry into the nuclear plants but had now tested it. It clearly worked. If he’d managed it in Germany, she was sure he could repeat it anywhere. She now connected the dots. The switch-off of Russian gas had forced Europe’s hand. He’d needed European countries to restart their nuclear programs so that he could have this option. Without working atomic power stations, he had no ability to control and manipulate. That was precisely how the President worked.

  She should have known. Filipov's test in Germany, however, had given her the final piece of bargaining power she needed. She could use the information she had to come to Britain's rescue, thus confirming her unquestionable worth to her superiors. It would be her ticket out of her mess. It wouldn’t please Filipov, but she was past caring now.

  19

  Hampstead Cemetery, North London––England

  February 2019

  The weather was terrible. It was the first funeral Sasha had been to, his link to it all being Anissa. She wasn’t being buried, he was happy about that, but her husband and two sons were.

  Sasha was alone.

  Anissa still lay in the hospital, the same room she’d been in for weeks. She’d started to come round a little, but was far from ready to attend an event that was traumatic at the best of times. Sasha would have to represent her there. He would talk to her all about it when she was well enough.

  Sasha avoided both sets of grandparents for the time being. They needed space to mourn, space to cry. He didn’t know if they knew of him, or his connection to Anissa. Would a Russian be welcome at such a family affair? Would a member of MI6 be appreciated, either?

  Sasha sat on the back row. Soon the coffins were carried in, the music sombre, the occasion devastating for so many. Such waste, such innocence. Large photos of the family were displayed at the front of the church while the congregation waited for the service to begin. Even for Sasha who had never met her family though he knew of them from what Anissa had mentioned, it was hard going.

  But he realised his sadness wasn’t because of the loss. It was because of the pain it would cause Anissa.

  Helen had left Sasha. She’d had enough of playing second fiddle, she’d said in her final voicemail to Sasha from more than a week ago. Sasha thought that rich. Didn’t she know how difficult all this was for him? Clearly not. She wasn’t going to put up with it any more, however. She even accused Sasha of having feelings for Anissa. Helen said he had dumped her for Anissa.

  Sasha thought that ludicrous and incredibly selfish. She was out of order, but he had long since stopped calling her back by that point. If that was how she felt, he was better off knowing that now.

  The split on some levels hurt, but even when those feelings came, he pushed them away. What Anissa must now be feeling, or would soon be feeling, was a million times his own pain.

  Sasha knew he didn’t deserve pity for his own situation, as Anissa had far more to be pitied.

  The priest welcomed the congregation and music began to play high up somewhere. Sasha had not noticed an organ from where he was sitting, but soon the doleful notes were filling every corner of the ancient building, the mourners all going quiet, as they stood for the first hymn. There were flowers on the two smaller coffins spelling out the boys' names.

  One set of grandparents were already crying.

  Thirty minutes later the formal and sombre service within the church was over, and a team of men started the procession outside and into the rain with the coffins. Umbrellas were provided for those closest family members. Sasha watched them all pass him, the mourners looking ahead, no hint of taking in the crowd, the experience nothing like a wedding, where everyone celebrated together. Mourning was far more personal.

  Sasha was maybe the only one there relieved it wasn’t Anissa instead. More than that. He would not even have traded her, thereby the one coffin at the funeral, for the three that had just passed. It was clear from all he’d learnt since that this was the intention. She’d been the target. The gang members who had been arrested had said that much themselves. One death instead of three. The young boys should have been able to live life, to grow old, at the expense of their mother.

  Sasha was glad that hadn’t happened, and he only felt a little wrong about thinking that, especially at that moment surr
ounded by such grief, such sadness, as the last of the crowd passed him, Sasha’s own row now ready to leave and follow the procession out into the rain. At least Sasha had come prepared. He had a large golfing umbrella.

  An older couple asked to stand under the covering with him and Sasha was happy to oblige. They didn’t ask each other for their connection to the family but stood in silence as words were spoken. With the rain on the umbrellas, the rain on the canopy up front rustling all the more, Sasha could not hear what was being said. The crowd was large. There were no journalists allowed in the cemetery, though the event would be covered for sure. They were all waiting at the entrance. Sasha had seen them as he made his way in. He made sure they didn’t see him.

  As the rain continued to pour down, the three coffins were lowered into the ground. Lying side by side in freshly dug holes, they made a forlorn sight. A few members of the immediate family could be seen throwing soil into each hole, though this was too much for the grandparents, who were being consoled and led away. A wake was being hosted in a nearby hall, though Sasha had seen enough. He wouldn’t be attending anything more. He was there to be able to represent Anissa, to give her a sense of what had happened, another perspective to what her own parents would also have to share.

  They were now also regularly visiting Anissa in the hospital. Sasha had seen them a few times, the two parties aware of the other now. They had no ill will towards Sasha, though there was an edge. It was her line of work that had caused a bomb to be placed underneath her car. Sasha represented that world, and for all they knew, Anissa was still a target. He’d reassured them that she was not, though he knew for sure that couldn’t be guaranteed, not for long, anyway. Would Filipov come back, especially if he discovered neither Anissa nor Sasha had been killed? What would that do to Rad or Bethany, not that Sasha cared one bit about the former DDG? She’d been placed on gardening leave, though it was clear a deal had been accepted. She was off the hook, allowed to continue in some capacity somewhere. Sasha had not yet got the details about where that would be, not that it bothered him.

  Sasha walked back to the car which was parked on the road that ran alongside the rear gates from the cemetery. Nobody would spot him from there. He sat behind the wheel for a moment. He needed time to process what he had just been through. Anissa had not been there. She would have been distraught to have been there, that was clear enough. Sasha still couldn’t imagine what it would feel like. However, he was thankful she was alive. He was alive too. Life could be so fleeting, so fragile. Here one moment, gone the next. In their line of work, that was especially true. He’d been around plenty of people who were no more.

  Was Alex also dead?

  It put a clearer perspective on everything. He had not been able to talk about his work to Helen even though they were close and had been sleeping together for months. The Official Secrets Act meant he would never be able to share every aspect of his life with anyone. He'd just seen the utter despair his line of work could bring to others. Three innocent lives, not directly involved in his world, were now over. Was having a family only a selfish choice? Was happiness even allowed?

  Sasha switched on the engine. The rain had slowed a little, though it was still spitting. He pulled out onto the quiet street, heading back towards the hospital. Anissa’s parents would not be there today, as they had enough other distractions. He needed to be there for Anissa. She needed to know she wasn’t alone.

  Vauxhall House, London––England

  “I know what just happened in Germany,” Bethany said, in for what would be her final session with the Director General. She’d never quite seen eye to eye with him. He’d obviously never wanted her in the first place, that much had been made apparent. But he was stuck with her, regardless. She wasn’t going down for this. She knew how it went. She knew how to strike a deal.

  “At the power plant, you mean?” Germany had been in the news. It was suspected in the days since that outside sabotage of some sort had been in play. Many places were alleged, including Russia. If Bethany was about to offer something up, it narrowed down that list of suspects to just one person.

  “Yes. I know how Filipov does it. Germany won’t be the last.” It was proof enough.

  “The UK?” The Director General needed to know if they were in danger themselves.

  “Yes, all of them.” The DG swore at Bethany’s answer.

  “How?”

  “Not so fast. I give you this, and we’ve settled our dispute.”

  “Dispute? You broke nearly every rule in the book, you don’t get away with it that easily.”

  “I’ve not got away with anything!” she shot back. She was still declaring her relative innocence. The UK had been guilty with getting involved in the election, this being something she'd admitted to leaking to Filipov. Besides the money payments, which she disputed knowing anything about, she said she wasn't guilty of anything serious. She’d indeed never used the money. The account showed only deposits, no withdrawals. She lived a life in keeping with her Security Service salary––both while at MI5 and since being the Deputy Director General at MI6. Nothing exorbitant, nothing over the top. If she knew about the money, she certainly hadn’t done anything with it. It went in her favour, in fact. Maybe it was a setup?

  “Then tell me about the danger. Millions of lives are at risk!”

  “First we strike a deal. Then you’ll have access to what you need to know.” He could see she had all the power in this negotiation. MI6 had little specific evidence on her. She was dirty, that much was known. Trust was broken and could never be restored, nor would she be put in a position where it would matter. Her time at MI6 was over, regardless of the deal. She couldn’t stay, not after all this. After the bombing, even if she hadn't known that Filipov was going to order it. Anissa lay in a hospital bed, not knowing that her family were all dead.

  “Okay, what do you want?” the Director General said, his resolve giving in finally. He’d been tasked with understanding what the dangers were. Filipov having access to the nation’s nuclear power plants seemed as dangerous as the Russian President actually launching missiles their way.

  Bethany laid out her requests. Surprisingly there was nothing that the Director General could complain about. She wanted out of MI6, wanted a desk job on the same salary in another department. Nothing crucial, nothing dealing with Russia. She wanted her life back. She promised it was over with Filipov. She admitted he had held something over her, but that didn’t matter now. MI6 knew about her, that was enough to take away any threats from Filipov.

  The Director General took the deal with Bethany without any further thought. It wasn’t overly greedy and she might have got a whole lot more if she had asked. Indeed, her information about the nuclear risks was worth much more. He didn’t let on about that, happy to sign off on her release, once the information was passed over. Once it was confirmed that the danger had been neutralised.

  It was the night after the German incident that Bethany walked out of the home of MI6 a free woman. A team of experts had been brought in to look into the back-door link that had been made known by Bethany, and these access points were quickly fixed. A full inspection of the nuclear power grid was already underway. They would iron out any further risks, but it was clear from what Bethany had given them that they’d discovered the weak point. The threat was now gone. Filipov might try, but he would no longer be able to put the UK in danger through their own nuclear plants.

  MI6 passed the information over to the new British government. It would give the latest Prime Minister some power within Europe, the British being the ones to crack the code, able to identify the danger. The source of information, and the man behind the attack, they would keep to themselves for now. That had been Prime Minister Westfield’s own stance. He didn’t need relations between the West and Russia any worse than they were. He had been calling for the reopening of dialogue, something that it seemed the Kremlin was interested in. It was hoped that the London and Moscow embassies
could soon be available again to both nations.

  Bethany kept the information about Westfield secret, one of the things she didn’t need to give up. She didn’t know how Westfield was connected but knew about the help he’d received from Filipov before getting the party nomination. Before becoming the new Prime Minister. She would watch with interest.

  Bethany arrived home that evening. She’d been held in solitary confinement since being arrested. Sleeping in her own bed, in her own home, was well overdue. She went to bed early. For the first time in years, she felt the weight of all the pressure lifting off her shoulders. She didn’t think about Anissa in her hospital bed. Bethany had reported to Filipov that both Anissa and Sasha were dead, as agreed. That had been part of the deal, something that Sasha had insisted upon. She didn’t know who had actually come for Sasha, or if Sasha ever had been in danger. Anissa certainly had had a lucky escape, though perhaps lucky wasn’t the right word.

  Bethany chose not to think about any of that. She'd had no idea what Filipov intended to do about either of them. She couldn’t have predicted a car bomb. It wasn’t her fault. Anissa was also about to fry her, exposing Bethany for being a double agent, but Bethany wasn’t a traitor. Bethany knew that wasn’t what defined her. She was a fighter. And she’d now come through her most challenging ordeal to date.

  She’d finally cut her way loose of Filipov’s control.

  But Bethany knew she was out of the game. Not entirely, but she would never be allowed into such a role within the Service. She’d burned that bridge. They would never give her access to anything sensitive again. She’d settled the issue in her heart. She was just glad she wasn’t in prison. She was free, finally free for the first time for as long as she could remember.

  Tomorrow would be a new day.