Failsafe Query

by Michael Jenkins

  ‘So is Hannlan the mole?’

  ‘Yep. Sir Joe is indeed the mole.’

  ‘Fucking hell – Sir Joe Hannlan,’ Sean exclaimed. ‘I knew it when I saw that name on the list in the QUERY file of Alfie’s. Strewth, the shit will hit the fan there.’

  ‘Yes, it’s Sir Joe Hannlan, the current Foreign Office Minister in the Cabinet who oversees aspects of national security. Sir Joe was groomed at a late stage of his university career by the Russians to act as a direct source of political information to the KGB. Recruitment in British universities was not only the preserve of MI5 and MI6.’

  Sean sat back, let out a long sigh and thought deeply. He sipped his wine as both men paused to gauge the other’s thoughts. Jack carried on.

  ‘He’s a very close friend of the Foreign Secretary, Sean, and therefore carries great influence. You can see why we have had to act carefully on this, can’t you? We can’t really expose Sir Joe just yet until we’ve got all our ducks in a row and decided how to progress things – one shot at a time, so to speak. Many of the other names have long since died, but Sir Joe is quite crucial as he would be the highest-level politician ever to be exposed as a Russian spy.’

  ‘So, Dominic will of course be held in great favour if he protects Sir Joe from being exposed,’ Sean remarked.

  Jack nodded as Sean’s thoughts crystallised. Sean then continued. ‘I see. I’m beginning to think that Dominic would want Sir Joe to carry huge weight and to favour him in return for keeping his affiliations with the Russians under wraps. In other words, Sir Joe could easily get the Foreign Secretary to make sure that Dominic became Chief of MI6, in return for stopping his name being exposed. Well I never.’

  ‘Indeed Sean. But what Dominic doesn’t know is that C had teed up this operation all along. It was a genuine counter-espionage operation, only it was run by a small cabal called the ‘court’. A double deception. Allowing Sir Joe to know that the list was about to be leaked would create a swathe of underground activity. All C needed to do was to see who Sir Joe turned to for help. And who would come crawling out.’

  Sean smirked and held his wine glass up to gesture ‘Cheers’. Jack obliged. ‘Listen Sean, there are other angles to this too. The government could easily topple over all this, and the Prime Minister could be culled. There are some big discussions going on right now to decide which chess piece is moved next. I suggest we meet up in a week or so and see what the likely outcome is.’

  ‘Sounds fine to me. But tell me Jack, what have you found out about the Ambassador and what will you do about him after all those leaks? The bastard nearly got me killed.’

  ‘Oh, we have plenty up our sleeve on that one. The man is a traitor of the highest order who was put out to roost long ago. But we’ll decide who to expose first, and when, and then we’ll deal with the others at a point where we can get some return and value. A bird in the hand, so to speak…’

  Sean sensed that there was a lot more mileage in this case and he had a slight niggle in his mind about the establishment politics of it all. ‘Treacherous bastards,’ he mused. It could all just be covered up and forgotten about; it depended on how the current C planned to expose Sir Joe and Jonathan Hirst. Either way, Sean knew he was just a small cog in a bigger political wheel and he wondered how long it would be before that wheel turned and Dominic was finally sacked from government service.

  ‘And by the way, Sean, to avoid any doubt, you are now a free man.’

  ‘Free? Not quite. I’m nearly free, Jack.’

  ‘I understand. Do you need anything from me?’

  Sean smiled. ‘No thanks. I just need you to turn the other way for a short time Jack. Nothing more.’

  *

  ‘Mucky business all round,’ Sean thought as he left the Special Forces Club that night. He reflected on the fact he was now unshackled, had one last act to perform to neutralise his ghosts and could then pursue a new life. He started to imagine the shape, colour and style of the painting he wanted to create of his i2 map – Moscow and WYNTHROP would be dead centre he thought. He did wonder though whether Jack was again testing his loyalty and whether or not there were more skeletons hiding in more cupboards. ‘Are there more deceptive machinations to come?’ he thought.

  Sean’s phone vibrated. It was TABASCO. ‘All sorted. All on standby for the next episode of mayhem. Talking of fun – stay away from any tarts. Your fun is here.’

  Chapter 50

  London, 2 May 2016

  ‘Can you rig up an initiation device with passive infrared telemetry?’ Sean said quietly. ‘One with dual sensors that can be kept forensically clean?’

  Phil ‘The Nose’ looked around the nicely adorned Soho pub, glanced at the Victorian-themed stained glass and nodded. There were two senior citizens drinking half-pints of Fullers London Pride in the corner, and a group of builders standing at the bar. The music from the retro jukebox muted enough of the conversation to allow Phil to expand further. ‘All very doable, but where will we get the bang from? And what type of bang?’

  ‘Shaped charges,’ Sean said.

  ‘For fuck’s sake,’ Swartz spluttered, spilling his pint of Rebellion real ale. ‘That’s my fucking pension gone again.’

  The three of them sat awaiting the arrival of One-Eyed Damon, who had promised Sean he could get the bang.

  ‘One last soirée for the team then?’ Phil inquired.

  ‘You could say that,’ Sean said.

  ‘Another fucking ruse,’ Swartz added, slurping his beer loudly.

  Phil, forever the optimist, shrugged his huge boxer’s shoulders and asked Sean what the plan was.

  ‘It’s a final nail,’ Sean said. ‘Something that needs to be done to take an evil bastard off this earth before we all move on to a normal life, and await the next adventure.’

  ‘A life, I hope, with my pension intact,’ Swartz said. ‘Between you, Jack and the rest of the crew, I’ve seen my twenty-six years disappear down the pan on three occasions now. I love a rumble, but can we make this the very last one please? I’ve only got days to go.’ They all laughed.

  One-Eyed Damon walked into the pub and they all looked at him. Sean watched him meander calmly to the bar, ask for a pint of Guinness and fold his white stick up – almost indicating he was ready for a session.

  ‘I’ll get that,’ the tall cockney builder said, undoing his high-visibility vest. ‘You’re an army veteran, mate, and it’s my honour to get you a beer.’

  ‘Ta very much, you are a real gentleman,’ One-Eyed Damon said. ‘But you better get that lot over there a beer too. They’re hard-core veterans too mate, and they can sink a few.’ Sean winced at the attention being drawn to his crew. One-Eyed Damon winked at him. Sean sensed the boys were up for some mischief. One-Eyed Damon shook the builder’s hand, grinned and brought a tray full of beer over to the lads. ‘A fine gesture,’ he said.

  ‘Damon, before we get on it, we have some pretty key business to sort out,’ Sean said keenly.

  ‘Never a problem. Beer helps us all to focus mate, as well giving us a good laugh. Bless the great British public for buying us ales, eh? Don’t you just love ’em to bits?’

  ‘Tell the guys what you picked up on with Frazer.’

  ‘Well, all I can say is you’re dealing with one nasty bastard,’ One-Eyed said. ‘It was my pleasure to put the shits up him, as he’s an evil twat. He’s running a full-on organised crime syndicate with the Albanians – pop-up brothels across London and the South-East, running drugs mules via Turkey and across the EU and shipping in women from the Balkans like there’s no tomorrow.’

  ‘Our target then,’ Swartz chirped.

  ‘I think that’s the plan,’ One-Eyed continued. ‘We’ve figured out his pattern of life and he always has two Albanian minders with him wherever he goes. But he has the same routine on a weekend, a religious routine.’

  ‘Rugby religion?’ Phil ‘The Nose’ asked teasingly.

  ‘Fuck no. The bloke’s a real wimp. But he does
like to throw his weight around with women. He busted the arms of two prostitutes he felt weren’t performing. I’ve arranged for them to be extracted and looked after properly. He’s a real nasty bastard and vicious in every way. Fuck knows how you got involved with him, Sean.’

  ‘Bad judgement whilst in a deep mire,’ Sean replied. ‘Just so we all know, Damon has done a great job on this. He has followed the guy for weeks, seen his movements, tracked the movement of drugs coming from Afghanistan and worked with Samantha to nail the fucker by finding evidence of all of his ruthless operations across Europe. The time has come to take the bastard out.’

  ‘Not least because he fucked you over,’ Swartz added. ‘Pension or no pension, we’re a team and I’m with you. This needs to be done.’ Phil and One-Eyed Damon raised their glasses and they toasted Swartz’s endorsement. Sean was touched.

  He composed himself. ‘OK guys, love the sentiments. In fact, I love the lot of you, but we need to sharpen up for this one. It’s a complex plan and kill. But one we must get absolutely right to stay out of jail.’

  One-Eyed Damon picked up his pint and downed it in one. ‘Right guys, follow me. We have a meeting to make with a few scrotes.’

  Sean and Damon led the way to a gentleman’s club a few minutes’ walk from the pub. They were expected and escorted down a narrow set of steps deep into the bowels of a club owned and run by a high-grade Bulgarian syndicate. It fronted up as a British business, with Damon’s former army mate, a Brit, acting as the company boss. The Bulgarians were all close friends of Damon with whom he had operated in the Balkans. They were Damon’s go-to team for weapons, explosives and strong-arm men when dirty business was called for.

  The club had a centrepiece stage surrounded by white leather sofas and armchairs. On the flanks were two small pole-dancing stages, on which stood topless women entertaining clients who chose to meander around the club. The centre stage was dominated by a teenage blonde from Moldova and she winked at Damon as he led the team to the bar before going to the back office. The pert dancer kept her gaze on the four men as she wrapped her legs skilfully around the pole, before sliding down to adopt a spreadeagled position, much to the joy of those in the front row. Along the bar and across the floor spaces were plenty of women dressed in bikinis who were eager and ready to take money from the clientele.

  ‘Like it,’ Phil ‘The Nose’ piped up, taking the beer from Damon as the bartender ensured the men were all served first.

  ‘Don’t get too comfy,’ Sean said. ‘It’s you who will be negotiating for me in a few minutes.’ Phil nodded, shook his beer at Sean and tapped his boxer’s nose.

  A few moments later, Damon returned with his Bulgarian friend Naz. He was a small beast of a man built like a beer barrel, with a thin face and two gold front teeth. One-Eyed Damon introduced Naz to the team and led the way to a private room.

  ‘So, gentlemen, how can I help you today?’ Naz said, smiling. He waved to a very pretty girl clad in a yellow bikini and white high heels who was standing by the salubrious bar. She came over and poured Sean a large beer, and a second woman placed small pots of olives and chilli bread on the table.

  Sean took an olive and leant forward towards Naz, who was sitting directly opposite him. ‘I need some shaped charges,’ Sean said. ‘Small copper ones but, if you have tantalum and the price is right, I’ll think about those too.’

  ‘Well, I think we’ll drink to that, gentlemen,’ Naz said, raising his glass. ‘It means you’re on your way to a bit of action and, as we’re all military men, who can deny us such deeds?’ Naz was a former Bulgarian Spetsnaz soldier who, according to One-Eyed Damon, had the market share of all military-grade weaponry being smuggled through the EU from the Balkans.

  ‘Never seen tantalum ones. They’re really special, I think. I do have some copper ones in stock, stolen from an Iranian gang, I think, but let me check where.’ Naz beckoned to his second-in-command behind him. Sean noticed he was wearing a chest holster as he leant over to listen to Naz whisper in his ear.

  ‘I need them very urgently,’ Sean said, ‘like yesterday and I’ll pay well for quick delivery.’

  ‘How much explosive do you want in them, and what about firing mechanisms?’

  ‘Enough for four or five inches of copper to be projected. Don’t worry about the initiation, we have that in hand.’ Sean looked across to Phil, who nodded.

  ‘OK. Where do you want it delivered?’

  Sean passed him a small business card showing the address of a lock-up in Battersea. ‘Tomorrow morning at 6.30am would be ideal.’

  Swartz looked at Sean quizzically as Naz stood up and left to make a phone call. ‘What the fuck?’ he said. ‘Are we doing this tomorrow?’

  ‘We are, mate, and we don’t have much time to prep for it. Jugsy is on the team and will launch his C-Astral unmanned air vehicle at 9am, ready to track Frazer as he heads to his villa on the coast. He’ll be in the second of two armour-plated Range Rovers, with his protection team following him in the first one. He never had protection before until One-Eyed decided to leave a marker that scared the shit out of the bloke and now he’s gone for full-on high-end protection.’ One-Eyed Damon laughed, the glint in his false eye showing a coloured dartboard lens.

  ‘So, we’re gonna launch a full-on hit job using shaped charges? For fuck’s sake Sean, great idea but this isn’t Afghanistan you know. Why don’t you use an under-vehicle device?’

  ‘I checked on that option,’ One-Eyed chipped in. ‘I found out he has his vehicle fleet fitted with Precipio under-vehicle detectors. They pick up tracking devices and bombs, mate.’

  ‘Good skills,’ Swartz said. ‘I guess a full-on ambush Afghan-style is as good as anything else.’

  ‘Don’t worry. Your pension will be fine, Swartz. I promise you,’ Sean said. ‘We have a big party planned that involves a top-drawer ruse.’

  Phil ‘The Nose’ chuckled, and patted Swartz on the back. ‘You know it makes sense,’ he said, waving the pretty girl over. ‘One for the road, anyone?’

  Naz returned with a big smile on his face and gave Sean a note. ‘This is the courier’s number. I’ve told him I’ll kill him if he fails to deliver exactly at 6.30. He’s doing a recce now and will take them off the shelf. I have three if you want to go for a third?’

  ‘Perfect. How much?’

  ‘These are very special stores, my good man. All in, it’s 7K with a third and I’ll slip in a couple of Glocks too.’

  Sean nodded to Phil and a small rucksack was lifted from below the table and handed to Naz’s right-hand man.

  *

  Sean looked at his Samsung tablet and could see live images of two Range Rovers slowing down at a roundabout before turning into the countryside on a B-road. Jugsy was operating the two-metre fixed-wing UAV from his Sussex farmstead. He had launched it at exactly 9am using a catapult system. The UAV had a four-hour loiter time and could zoom right into the occupants of a vehicle from a height of two thousand feet, where it whirred silently. The imagery was sharp and clear, and Jugsy relayed data to Sean using the chat system of the air-imagery software.

  Sean sat with Swartz behind a four foot-high hedge, monitoring the screen. They were located halfway down a narrow country lane that gave access to Frazer’s villa and provided a perfect escape route on their Yamaha Enduro motorbikes across and through woodland which gave excellent cover. Sean had sat in the bushes with Swartz from daybreak and had walked the road to precisely determine the points to place their three copper explosive projectiles. The projectiles would penetrate the armour and wreak havoc inside the vehicle, creating a searing fireball.

  ‘Are you in place and ready, Tango 2?’ Sean said over his radio to Phil and One-Eyed Damon. His earpiece was under his black woollen hat, and his tablet was attached to his chest rig.

  ‘Roger,’ came the reply.

  ‘Good. They’re currently at red five, moving to red six. Astral has checked the road and we’re all good to go. Watch and shoot.’


  Swartz stood up, patted Sean on the shoulder and began to make his way to his position further along the hedgerow. ‘It’s the right thing to do mate, and you know we have your back, mate. We’re family.’

  Sean was humbled that his mates had given him the nod that the past was the past, and that what had been had been. This was a new era but he knew he had one last demon to expunge. And his mates agreed. He looked at the screen which Jugsy had now zoomed into in the front car, just as Sean had asked him to from the map position red six onwards.

  ‘Locked in,’ Sean heard over the radio. ‘Trigger and set.’

  Sean put his gloved right hand inside his jacket and pulled out his firing device. With both thumbs he simultaneously pressed the two arming buttons. ‘Game on,’ he whispered. At exactly that time, Phil and One-Eyed Damon staged a car crash at the main junction providing access to the narrow road, blocking it entirely.

  The two vehicles drove round the right-hand bend, known as green two, and were now in the ambush zone. The rear vehicle was thirty metres behind the lead vehicle, exactly as One-Eyed had said from his previous surveillance of their pattern of life. They were now heading slightly downhill, with one blind bend left before the hit zone. Frazer was sitting in the passenger seat of the front vehicle.

  ‘At green three,’ Sean heard in his headset, as he crawled beneath the hedgerow. He stood and walked right into the middle of the road, raising his Glock pistol to head height. He stood still, feet slightly apart, shoulders tensed, knees bent and his left eye closed. He peered through the sights.

  The lead vehicle came around the bend slowly, right into Sean’s sights. He paused, took two deep breaths and let off a volley of shots straight into the windscreen. The windscreen shattered and the car sped up, driving directly at Sean as it screeched in second gear. He saw Frazer lunging forward to clear the screen and then bam!