It was information linking the British Ambassador to Russia in the early 2000s. He was a spy, right in the heart of the highest echelons of the British establishment. He had leaked information direct to the Russian government, and possibly to others.
Sean sighed and made a face. He mumbled expletives to himself, agog at what he was reading. Sean knew that this was likely to be the person who had nearly got him killed all those years ago. But how did the Ambassador know of his pursuits and mission? Sean clicked the link and searched. Sure enough, Alfie had settled it – he had settled who had leaked his and other missions to the Iranians. It was the Ambassador. Sean reflected on how the Russians had had a very close relationship with the Iranians in state-sponsored pursuits – and it certainly fitted with the Iranians’ pursuit of harnessing fissile material. It all seemed to tie together. He made a mental note to find out more. ‘Bastard,’ he said, as he smacked the desk.
Were the Iranians now in this game? It would be no surprise if they were he thought. Or was this a piece of intelligence unrelated to the needs of Dominic Atwood and Natalie? He took a break from reading, leant back and thought carefully. What had he missed? Think. Analyse. Read.
*
There was another key file on the list – and Sean left this to last. It was a file called ‘QUERY’. This seemed a curious name as Alfie had diligently named everything else with a title that related to its contents. Sean became engrossed in this file and its contents. Was this the tinder-box information that Natalie wanted? And was it the file that Dominic needed?
Sean had hit another jackpot. ‘At last,’ he mused as he scanned and read the detail. He could now piece it all together and get the unadulterated truth about why he had been brought in from the cold – and why these files were so desperately important to people.
Sean began to piece together the different types of intelligence contained in this file – it was complicated, and it confused him as he tried to think through the permutations. There were so many memos, intelligence reports, archived data and pieces of historical evidence. It seemed to involve a lot of people. He decided to use i2 intelligence software to begin connecting the individuals to see who was connected to whom, who knew what and who may have hidden information from whom.
The crux was that the QUERY documents contained a list of names alleged to be high-grade Russian moles within the British establishment.
He started with the individual who had been given the information and list of names from someone in Moscow – Sean gave him the code-name ‘FITZROY’.
The information handed over in Moscow was a list of names pertaining to Russian moles in the UK intelligence services and the sources they had recruited to provide ongoing high-grade intelligence to the Russians. Sean wasn’t quite sure who was who at this stage.
But who else had known about this list? One document suggested that the initial primary source, ‘WYNTHROP’, had concealed this list and hidden it before it was finally given to FITZROY and, from the account Sean read, it had taken many years for this information to fall into the hands of FITZROY. It had remained deeply hidden for a long time: thirty-seven years, in fact. It must have been like gold dust, he thought to himself, when FITZROY opened it and saw this devastating list of names within the British establishment. He wondered if he had read the names or whether he had been under strict instructions to pass it on to his intelligence masters. But who had FITZROY given the list to? And why?
This was Alfie’s very own mole-hunter investigation which he had planned to expose to the world. This was a classic anti-mole intelligence investigation, enhanced by the additional skill set that Alfie had of brute-force hacking into digital systems. The old anti-mole teams in MI6 had long since gone, but this list gave Alfie a nudge back in time to the hinterland of cold war spying.
‘So, this was what drove Alfie on,’ Sean said out loud. ‘Bloody good stuff too,’ he thought. Sean relaxed back in his chair, feet up on the small desk, looking intently at the list of names in front of him. He didn’t recognise any of the names – except one.
The name came with two initial letters attached to it. And whilst the surname stuck out, was it the person he was thinking of? Or was it just a coincidence? It was the name of a very well-known British political personality in the current Cabinet. He stretched and arched his back, and knew he had to push on with the i2 map to see who was linked to whom.
He wrote down WYNTHROP on the paper. This was the name or codename that Alfie had uncovered as being the person who had initially written the list of moles in 1979. He then wrote FITZROY below WYNTHROP and connected them with a dotted line. FITZROY was the person who had received the list of moles in a small rusty tin in Moscow in 2005. FITZROY would have given the list to someone back in the UK. Sean assumed FITZROY would be MI5 or 6. He then had to make a few assumptions in the absence of any evidence and began to write the interconnections on an A3 sheet of paper. He wrote FITZROY in the middle with the date and place – 2005. MOSCOW. He then drew a circle below FITZROY and named this individual ‘CHIEF’, for the Chief of MI6. London 2005. He then drew a circle on the right-hand side of the page with the name next to it, QUERY, to represent the high-profile British personality – in other words, the Russian mole.
He scribbled some of his own conjectures below these circles and then tried to fill in the blank circles with questions – such as, who had killed Alfie? Who had informed the foreign or home agency that had killed Alfie? How did they know about Alfie? And who was Natalie working for? Who was Dominic connected to? And was there a direct link with the intelligence services or a specific individual?
It was 4.20am when he began to see what was happening. He was totally exhausted but alive to the fact that time was of the essence here, with Natalie on the prowl for the information and the QUERY list.
Sean was now carrying on where Alfie had left off. Alfie had had no idea who had been on his tail – nor had he known that other dark forces knew of his plan to whistle-blow these devastating secrets. All Alfie had known at the time was that he held highly precious information that would probably destroy certain men on the Russian and British sides – and probably cause earthquakes within the intelligence services and government.
Sean recognised that whoever got the list first would ultimately determine which men would be thrown to the wolves and which would survive.
He saw that Alfie had had a fantasy side to him and that his egocentric nature had lulled him into the sense of being immortal if he became the greatest whistle-blower of them all. And, to add the icing on the cake, he would have exposed the highest-profile British mole in history. That was what Alfie wanted. To be famous for ever.
Sean reflected on how this staggering piece of research had revealed a long-lost secret that had re-emerged from the cold war days to expose a Russian sleeper agent of the highest magnitude. His final actions that night were to copy and paste hundreds of files into a separate cloud-based account so that all the information was easily accessible to him and could be accessed and used as he desired. A few surreptitious thoughts crossed his mind about what he could do with it all.
He felt himself gently drifting off to sleep, realising that he now had an exit plan. He could play both cards and provide the list to both Natalie and Dominic. Either way, the mole would be exposed and others would fall too – something that he knew deep in his soul he had to do. He knew he didn’t have much time on his side with Natalie – but he judged he had just enough to make his plan work. He could then depart safe in the knowledge he had done his job and could quietly exit this dark world of deceit.
But he wanted Melissa too.
Chapter 36
Languedoc-Roussillon, 24 April 2016
Swartz was poised and ready for action. He had prepared his team in short order and watched his SAS operators prepare their equipment as dusk began to fall. The bolt-hole was a hive of activity as he watched his men go through the well-versed ritual of sorting out equipment, rehearsing assault drills
, checking communications kit, memorising maps, taking tea and toast and reading before sleeping.
Swartz had brought with him a bomb-disposal officer, Phil Calhoun, to conduct the specialist target-site reconnaissance using a variety of special equipment. Happy that the SAS troopers were settled in with their kit, he asked Phil ‘The Nose’ to have a chat with him on the terrace.
Swartz sat down on the upper terrace of the split-level building which offered a glorious view across a secluded valley to a few limestone hills. A daylight moon shone across the vast expanse of rolling meadow that lay below them, with the gentle trickle of river water providing the only sound. A perfect place for rehearsing the assault, Swartz thought.
‘What I’ve got so far is that the GCHQ analysts have tracked and traced the Russian team to a wooded farmstead near Corsavy and the Gorge de la Fou. I think they’ve created all sorts of defences to protect the place, which is where you come in, Phil.’
‘No problem, I’ve got plenty of tech kit and a good bit of bang too. We’re good to go. What’s been happening there?’
‘Not sure yet. I’ve got a surveillance team sitting in the undergrowth watching every aspect of life inside and outside the two-storey cottage. I need to find out quickly if Melissa is inside and what we’re up against to rescue her.’
Phil stood up and leant over the wooden rail to take in the view before turning around. ‘This is a marvellous place you know. Total solitude. My kind of place for a stealth operation and a bloody big bang,’ Phil said, with a glint in his eye. ‘OK, let’s get on the ground tonight and we’ll have a quiet peek inside the place and throw a bit of kit around to see what defences they’ve put in place.’
Swartz had ultimate faith in Phil to cover the technical side of the operation, which was needed to give the vital intelligence to his shooters before any full assault took place. Phil was an explosives legend. He was only five foot eight inches tall but well-built with a very distinguishable boxer’s nose, wide shoulders and a trademark number one haircut. He was the font of all knowledge on bomb disposal and technical surveillance and had received many bravery awards during his distinguished career in the army.
‘Good. I’ll go and grab some plans of the place and we can look at how we can get up to the building,’ Swartz said. ‘GCHQ will keep feeding us any signals intelligence and I’m expecting to get an order to strike within forty-eight hours, depending on what we see is happening inside.’
Swartz’s team had set up their small bolt-hole some five kilometres away from the target cottage and were briefed every six hours on the Russians’ movements by the surveillance team leader. Swartz had been instructed that no further operations on the target were to take place without Jack’s authority and without Sean’s approval of the plan. Swartz had been receiving Sean’s instructions via messages he had placed in the drafts folder of a Yahoo email account. OPSEC was vital now. They would communicate remotely using the method of leaving instructions in the draft folder, which would mean that no information was ever transmitted. They both checked in regularly to see what messages and instructions had been left for each other in the folder.
Swartz grabbed some maps and returned to see Phil preparing his explosives on the terrace deck. He had a range of equipment, including detonator cord, wiring, remote initiation devices and a couple of ammunition tins full of PE4 explosive. Phil would be handling the explosive means of entry into the target and would be using the high-tech passive and intrusive surveillance equipment that would be needed for the rescue attempt.
This job was no different to all the other stronghold takedowns Swartz and his team had completed over the years except that, this time, they were getting paid handsomely but with no protection against prosecution on foreign soil. Swartz was acutely aware of the risks of this mission going wrong. He recognised that Sean could only bide his time and trust in his men to provide the information he needed before he, and only he, would decide to spring the operation.
Chapter 37
Languedoc-Roussillon, 25 April 2016
Swartz and Phil led the search team along a narrow, muddy ditch adjacent to a line of trees that eventually gave access to the house. It was pitch-black and they wore night-vision goggles with ultra-sensitive optics to carefully observe the extremities of the building and the best approach routes to the target.
Swartz crawled the last twenty metres in the ditch before popping up in a small gulley. He was flawless in checking how the Russians may have deployed their defences to provide them with early-warning systems of any approaching intruders in the gardens. He checked for any signs of ground radar or infrared lighting before making his approach to the skin of the building. He was aware that local wildlife could easily set off any radar but he suspected the Russians had only placed active or passive infrared alarm systems on the building itself, backed up with night surveillance optics if a sensor was set off. These were highly professional foreign agents and he had no qualms about being ultra-cautious.
Swartz then followed Phil as he moved around a small copse and then approached the cottage along a ten-metre hedge line. This provided them with superb observation and cover from view as they scanned the approaches to the cottage with their night-vision goggles. Swartz noticed the rear garden consisted of a large expanse of oval-shaped lawn with a few shrubbery plantations, rose bushes on the perimeter and a small terrace by the dining room. Swathes of ivy hogged each side of the cottage and the remoteness of the area meant that there was very little light pollution. Swartz had identified which areas of the grounds might be covered by movement sensors and was confident he could pick them up using the team’s detection equipment. He was also confident that he would be able to guess the exact locations the foreigners had used to alarm the ingress and exit routes to the building. The only problem, he mused, was that these adversaries were far more skilled and capable than the average terrorist cell, so he had to ensure he thought of every little trap they may have set.
Swartz watched Jim and Chris, the two searchers, check their small hand-held tools and, with all their equipment, they moved cautiously to their start point. Swartz then ushered them to begin their journey around the entire cottage to detect any electronic defensive or detection alarm systems. This was slow, laborious work, but vital to identify and avoid any high-tech detection systems the Russians might have put in place. They moved with supreme stealth and skilfully used the cover of night and the environment.
Jim and Chris returned an hour later and met Swartz behind the main hedge, where they briefed him and Phil on the situation.
‘The house is only protected by six external infrared sensors,’ the lead searcher, Jim, whispered.
‘OK. Anything else in place?’ Phil asked.
‘Nothing. But if they’re triggered they’ll probably illuminate the areas of the patio, the front door and the kitchen door. That’s about all we could see.’
‘But we don’t know if they’ll trigger an alarm in the house?’
‘That’s very possible but for now we can avoid them. Other than that, the external faces of the building are clear. We couldn’t see any CCTV cameras either, but there could be covert cameras in place to trigger a black screen and an alarm inside the house. I can’t be sure.’
Phil reached inside his pocket for his plan of the farmstead. ‘OK, let’s mark this up before the next run,’ he said.
He marked the drawing of the house with the four faces of the building. Their approach to the face in front of them, which was the back garden, was marked as the purple face, the front was amber and the other two sides were grey and blue. Swartz watched Phil crouch to brief Jim and followed suit.
‘Jim, I want you and Swartz to start on the corner of the purple and grey faces, and I’ll take the corner of the amber and blue faces. Let’s move clockwise and return here once we’ve done the recce of the brickwork of the building.’
‘If I see an opportunity, can I exploit it to look inside the building?’
‘
Yes, but only if you’re happy there are no sensors inside the room you choose. I want to know what’s happening in each room downstairs and upstairs, through the windows and through any apertures you find that give us a look into the place. Let’s map out the rooms and see what the hell is going on inside.’
‘No problem. Just be aware that the swathe of the external infrared detectors is about thirty degrees with a distance of about twelve metres in front of them.’
‘Fine. Any space to squeeze below them?’
‘Yep. The downward angle is about five degrees, giving us about a one-metre gap to crawl past without triggering them. Tight but should be OK.’
There was a slight wind rustling through the high oak trees that provided a useful background noise as they started their next runs. Each of them wore night-vision goggles strapped to their heads on top of their black balaclavas. They each carried a Glock pistol in a thigh holster with endoscope equipment strapped to their waists on black webbing belts. Their small drills and toolsets were attached to the rear of their belts.
Swartz and Jim crawled the last few metres from the rose bushes to the corner of the building and then stood up slowly to stand against the side of the walls. Their first target was the narrow room facing the back garden, which was the kitchen. The kitchen lights were on. Swartz watched Jim kneel, place his endoscope through a tiny gap under the door and look at his two-inch chest-mounted screen, which was shrouded with a black veil to hide the light and disguise his presence. He stretched to push the three-millimetre endoscope camera under the draught flap. He then twisted the camera head using the toggles on his chest controller to look around the room. He let Swartz view the inside. The kitchen was empty. There was no one inside. He looked up to the right, making a mental note of the layout and furniture. He then looked to see if there were any PIR sensors in the corners of the ceiling, and then checked upwards to see if he could see a lock system on the back of the door or a key inside that lock. There was an old iron key with nothing else attached to it and quite a substantial bolt lock on the top and bottom of the door. He then carefully turned the door handle to see if it was locked. It was.
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