Angel of Darkness

by Christopher Nicole

  He obeyed and turned back to face her. Joseph Andrews was six foot three inches tall, a physical characteristic that always appealed to Anna. He was also very thin, and now that he was past fifty his hatchet face was taking on an almost cadaverous appearance. But he was, Clive apart, her oldest living friend, even though from time to time he had also been her bitterest enemy.

  For all that, she could never forget that he was the man who had helped her escape from the Lubianka in 1941, thus saving her life. Shortly afterwards, as a senior officer in the then OSS, and now in the CIA, he had become her employer, sharing her with MI6. He had watched her at work on more than one occasion and knew her every capability.

  And he had also fallen in love with her. But they had only once ever shared a bed. Circumstances had led to their separation immediately afterwards – principally her kidnapping by the NKVD (as the MGB was then known) on leaving his apartment. That had led to the sudden deaths of the six Russian agents involved, which had left both the State Department and MI6 in a state of frantic disarray as they tried to get her out of America before she could be charged with murder.

  They had not been entirely convinced by her invariable explanation: ‘What was I to do? Let them take me back to Moscow for a show trial and public execution?’ In fact, over the following four years, although they found her invaluable time and again, they had also become increasingly concerned at their inability to predict or control just what she might do next – so at last they had determined that she simply had to be eliminated, if possible without a fuss.

  They still had not grasped exactly what they were dealing with, had wound up with one of their best men in the morgue, but at the same time left her with the unhappy realization that both Moscow and Washington were now out for her blood. MI6, Clive, had rescued her from that predicament, broadcasting that the infamous Countess von Widerstand had died in the flaming ruins of Berlin in April 1945, and giving her a new identity to start a new life, with her parents.

  Of course it had not worked. Both the Russians and the Americans had traced her, and the bankrupt post-war British Government had been unable to protect her adequately. So, four more dead Russians, and flight. But this time with Joe, who had turned up at the same time as the Reds and watched spellbound as she dealt with the immediate problem. He had then offered her, in the name of his government, immunity from prosecution for all past crimes – as most people categorized the events of her sanguinary life – if she would come back and resume work for the CIA.

  That had been a gamble she might not have been prepared to take but for two connected facts. One was that at that moment she had been a penniless fugitive, uncertain that the British Government, in the interests of international relations, might not hand her over to the Russians, if they were able to catch up with her. The other was that Joe had promised her American help in retrieving the ten million dollars in Nazi gold that she had secreted at the end of the War, and which had been buried inside what was to become Russian-controlled Germany. This they had done. It had cost another twenty-odd Soviet lives, making her in Russian eyes the most wanted criminal ever and converting her into Washington’s private nemesis.

  That had been six years ago. For those six years, she had served the State Department faithfully and well. Always at considerable risk to her own life, but always successfully – just as she had been successful in creating her own little private world here in the Bahamas, and even marrying the only man she had ever truly loved . . . although the fact that he still worked for MI6 continued to make that life entirely clandestine. But now . . .

  ‘So,’ he commented, ‘what’s the problem? Peterson said you seemed a bit agitated when he saw you, and your message – that it was most urgent you see me immediately – also sounded agitated. What went wrong?’

  ‘Nothing went wrong. Schmettow is dead.’

  ‘That’s my girl.’ He pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed. ‘And you’re here, as large as life and twice as beautiful, and in the pink. So tell me what’s on your mind? And would you mind very much covering up those tits? Sitting here looking at them is very distracting, as I’m not allowed to touch them.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  He studied her for several seconds. ‘So there is a problem. Was it very close?’

  ‘A bit. Schmettow and his bodyguards were not difficult. They looked at me for a few seconds too long. But the bastard had a pet.’

  ‘Don’t tell me! You mean a Rottweiler or something? I thought you loved dogs, and always got on with them?’

  ‘I do. This was a king cobra. About which I had not been informed,’ she added coldly.

  ‘Holy shit! It didn’t . . .’

  ‘No, it did not. Or I wouldn’t be here now, would I? But I hate killing living creatures. Except humans who deserve it. Animals never deserve it. They are always either defending themselves or obeying instructions.’

  ‘Still, it must have been a shattering experience, especially if you didn’t know it was there. Do you dye your hair?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘But you’re shaken. Or you wouldn’t have insisted on seeing me in person.’

  ‘I am not the least bit shaken, Joe. I wanted to see you, in person, because I have something to say to you, in person.’

  ‘Oh, yes?’ His tone had become watchful.

  ‘I want out.’

  He frowned. ‘You said you weren’t shaken.’

  ‘I said that I am not the least bit shaken. I want to have a child.’

  ‘What?!’

  ‘As it seems to have escaped your notice, I am a woman. I am also thirty-two years old, and in three months I am going to be thirty-three. The sands are running out, in that direction. Besides, I want to be young enough to enjoy my daughter’s adolescence.’

  ‘Suppose it’s a boy?’

  ‘Then it will be his adolescence. Anyway, I intend to have more than one. I’m very happy that you are accepting this, Joe.’

  ‘Well, I am not happy at all. Frankly, the idea of you sitting in a rocking chair with an infant tugging at those tits is beyond my powers of imagination.’

  ‘You’ll get used to it.’

  He leaned forward, his hand resting on the sheet beside her thigh. ‘Anna, we need you.’

  ‘And you’ve had the best of me, for six years. Now it’s time to give something back.’

  He leaned back. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’

  ‘Joe, surely we’ve been friends long enough for you to know that I am always serious, even if I see life as one huge macabre joke. If I did not see it that way, I’d have blown out my brains long ago.’

  ‘Which humour applies even when you’re about to kill someone.’

  Anna gazed at him. ‘Yes, Joe. Even when I’m about to kill someone. I just told you, it preserves my sanity.’

  ‘And that’s why you’ve taken all of your money out of Stattler’s hands.’

  ‘We, Clive and I, are quite capable of handling our investments.’

  He gazed at her for several seconds, then sighed. ‘OK. If you’re hell bent on this crazy scheme, we won’t stand in your way.’

  ‘That’s very reassuring. And thank you.’

  ‘So, give me some dates. When do you reckon you’ll need to commence your maternity leave? And then I suppose you’ll want maybe . . . twelve months away? Fifteen?’

  ‘Joe,’ Anna said, ‘I am not asking for leave. I am quitting.’

  ‘Now, Anna, be serious.’

  ‘I am very serious. I’m going to be a mum. I have no intention of coming home one day and being asked by my daughter, or son, or both, Mummy, what did you do today? And having to reply, oh, killed four or five people. Those days are done.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘You think you can just walk away from the CIA?’

  ‘I am simply retiring from the business. Everyone is entitled to retire.’

  ‘And if we refuse to accept your retirement?’

  Anna’s eyes were cold. ‘What exa
ctly would you do about it?’

  ‘Well . . .’

  ‘I think,’ she said, ‘that there are two things you need to remember. The first is that Moscow has been trying to nail me for eleven years. And I’m still here, and there are a hundred and thirty-three heavies who are not.’

  ‘Of course,’ she added modestly, ‘only about half of those were Russians. But it is still something you need to bear in mind.’

  ‘You know what you suffer from?’

  ‘You’ve told me, often enough. Hubris. The important thing is that I am still here, and they are not. And if you think you can apply pressure in other directions, there is the second point you need to bear in mind, of which you may not be aware. Three years ago I carried out a last job for MI6.’

  Joe’s frown was back. ‘You never told me about that!’

  Anna shrugged – which she knew could be devastating. ‘Every girl has her secrets. The point is, Billy Baxter . . . You remember Billy?’

  ‘I remember Baxter very well,’ Joe said, somewhat sourly.

  ‘Well, of course, he set it up.’

  ‘And Clive went along with it? Some husband!’

  ‘We weren’t married then. And he was not happy about it. But neither was I. To sweeten the pot, Billy offered me a quid pro quo. Apart from the fee, of course. He said that if I did this job for him, and for Britain, he would obtain for me perpetual immunity from arrest for anything I might have to do in self-defence here in the Bahamas.’

  ‘And you believed him? You may be the most deadly woman in the world, but you are also the most naïve.’

  ‘I did believe him, Joe. And you’re right, he couldn’t swing it then. I was quite upset. But he kept working at it; and when a couple of years ago the government switched from left to right, he was able to push it through. You must remember that I was once commanded by Heydrich to assassinate Churchill. These things make a bond.’

  ‘I would have thought it’d make him intensely pleased to see you biting the dust.’

  ‘Ah, but you see, I didn’t do it. I changed sides instead, and began working for him. By the end of the War, I was just about his favourite woman. Although,’ she said reminiscently, ‘that didn’t stop him cheerfully being prepared to sacrifice me on one occasion. But as I said, I’m still here, and I now have that carte blanche, enabling me to take out any heavy who comes gunning for me or mine in the Bahamas. And I will, Joe, if I have to.’

  ‘I have no doubt of it,’ he said. But the rancour had gone from his voice, which had become thoughtful. Alarm bells began to jangle in Anna’s mind. ‘However,’ he said, ‘do you really want to spend the rest of your life locked away on your island, gun in hand? And do you really want to take on both us and the Reds?’

  ‘Can you offer me an alternative?’

  ‘I can offer you the same deal as Billy, only better. In fact, that’s why I came down the moment I got Petersen’s message. I needed to see you just as badly as you seem to have wanted to see me.’

  ‘Try being explicit.’

  ‘So you want out. OK. We’ll hate to lose you, but we can do a deal. Do one last job for us, and we’ll not only call it a day but we’ll give you perpetual immunity throughout the United States. Providing, of course, you confine your destructive impulses to Red agents or members of the criminal fraternity who may be employed by Moscow.’

  ‘You can do that?’

  ‘I can obtain it for you.’

  ‘You must want this job done pretty badly.’

  ‘We do.’

  ‘And you reckon I’m the only one who can do it?’

  ‘Yes, we do.’

  Now she gazed at him for several moments. She had trusted him in 1946, when her world had been collapsing. And he had not let her down, then or since. And for all her brave words, she knew that life confined to the Bahamas, and hopefully with a couple of kids to bring up and educate and protect, not to mention Clive and her parents, and all the other inhabitants of her cay who trusted her absolutely and for whom she was responsible, would be very difficult if she had to spend her time looking over her shoulder. And if it was one last job . . . She drew a long breath. ‘Tell me what it is.’

  *

  ‘Does the name Kola el Fahri mean anything to you?’

  ‘Only that he sounds a Middle Eastern gentleman.’

  ‘Actually, we think he is from Libya.’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘His origins are a bit vague. He fought for the British in North Africa during the War, having developed a considerable enmity for the Italians. He was, apparently, a very loyal and very successful saboteur. In fact, he showed such courage and determination on so many occasions that had he been a regular he could well have picked up a string of medals, including even the Victoria Cross.’

  ‘And you want him taken out? You are going to have to do an awful lot of convincing, Joe.’

  He sat down again. ‘As I suggested, he is apparently a man who forms quite savage dislikes. Since the end of the War he has formed a violent antipathy for all things Western, particularly the United States. Seems we refused him citizenship when he applied for it in 1946.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He has a criminal record. OK, maybe he earned some of that record while working for the Brits, so maybe it was rampant bureaucracy and a pedantic approach, but the laws are there.’

  ‘Couldn’t he appeal, citing his war record?’

  ‘You or I might have taken that road, but appeals against governments are apparently not his scene. He believes in direct action.’

  ‘Such as what?’

  ‘He’s a demolitions expert, taught by the Brits during the War. Over the past two years he has indulged in a systematic bombing campaign against US targets, all over the world. OK, in the beginning one or two were physical targets. But now he’s broadening his horizons. You must have heard about that Pan Am clipper that went down last year.’

  ‘That was unexplained engine failure, wasn’t it?’

  ‘It was a bomb, in the cargo hold. Seems the bag was sorted through legitimately, but the passenger who checked it in never boarded the aircraft. As the plane went down in the sea it has taken some time for us to locate the wreckage and start recovering what we can. Apart from seventy-five dead bodies. We haven’t made this public, because we don’t want to start a panic, but we have conclusive proof that a man named Khouri, who is a known and close associate of Fahri’s, was seen amongst the passengers before the aircraft left Lisbon, and he certainly checked a bag. But he never boarded. He was called, as a missing passenger, several times, before they got fed up and took off without him.’

  ‘That’s a bit coincidental.’

  ‘It’s also a bit careless on the part of the ground staff. We’re trying to get all the airlines to install some kind of checking system to at least make sure no unaccompanied luggage gets on board in future. We’d also like to have a system for screening luggage; and, if necessary, passengers too, to make sure they aren’t carrying weapons or explosives. But whether we’ll ever get that off the ground is another matter. The airlines say such a procedure would require the installation of expensive equipment, not to mention specially trained personnel to operate it. Even more important, it would mean fare increases and cause flight delays and disruption to schedules, and they say the flying public would not accept that. We don’t happen to agree. We feel the travelling public, who increasingly seem to want to travel by air, will put up with anything to do so – certainly if the reasons for the fare hikes and the delays are explained to them. But the airline executives feel it will just mean a crippling fall in custom and therefore revenue.’

  ‘Well,’ Anna said. ‘I suppose the odds on travelling on a plane targeted by this character are still astronomical.’

  ‘They are shortening every minute. Last month there was another US airliner brought down, out of Manila. A hundred and twenty-eight people, mostly Americans. Fahri himself has been identified as being among the passengers, and again the
flight took off one passenger short. That was too much. The matter has been handed to us.’

  ‘So? Why can’t you simply arrest him?’

  ‘For two reasons. He is not a US citizen, or resident in the States, and we have no proof. At least, no proof that would stand up in court.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘Apart from our knowledge of his character and background and capabilities, all we have is identification of him or Khouri at all the sites where a bomb either went off or was planted. There have now been seven of these incidents. That can’t be coincidence. Oh, we might make the charges stick in our courts. But other people feel we may be intending some railroading.’

  ‘And the government where he is living won’t extradite him. Where is this uncooperative place situated?’

  ‘Fahri has a house in Surrey, about an hour’s drive from central London.’

  *

  ‘What!’ Anna threw back the sheet so violently that she was totally uncovered.

  Joe stared at her in consternation. ‘Have you been pointing that thing at me all the time we’ve been talking?’

  ‘It’s an idiosyncrasy of mine when entertaining people I don’t know very well.’

  ‘And you don’t know me very well?’

  ‘It also applies to people I know too well. Anyway, this conversation is now terminated.’

  There was a knock on the door. Anna looked at her watch. ‘Good lord, six o’clock!’ She got out of bed, watched askance by Joe, pulled on her dressing gown, pocketed the pistol, took a £5 note from her shoulder bag, and opened the door to receive her dress from the laundry maid. ‘Thank you.’ She tipped her, closed the door again, and carefully laid the dress on the bed. ‘Surely, if he’s a killer, and the British know this, they’ll cooperate?’

  ‘They can’t right now, much as I suspect they’d like to. At the end of the War, presumably looking for increased Arab support, they lauded him as a war hero, gave him British citizenship, and let him get on with it. As a war hero he has been prominent ever since, making public appearances, opening fêtes, that sort of thing. They feel that suddenly to announce they are handing him over to us, and almost certain execution, without adequate proof of his crimes – and as you pointed out, right now our evidence is entirely circumstantial – would be a PR catastrophe. You know the sort of thing, “British Government kowtows to US” etc. We’re not all that popular in the UK right now, anyway.’