He wondered if Nadège was working someone already and was here to continue that process. The only common denominator so far on this job was her drive to buy nuclear material. Was she recruiting someone for Iran? Or for her mission? The device he had forensically investigated in the buried cache had all the hallmarks of acting as a receptacle for a dirty bomb. The golden thread running through this mission seemed to be the desire of Iran to build nuclear capability or simply just acquire a crude nuclear weapon and detonate it. A frightening prospect on both counts, Sean thought.
Sean tapped a message to Samantha on his phone.
‘Have you found out where she is yet? Follow her like a hawk. Let’s see who she’s trying to recruit.’
For now, this was a waiting game. Sean sat in his cabin. Nursing his thoughts. Waiting. Reminiscing.
Ninety minutes later Sean was woken with a shock. His phone rang loudly, blasting out Tom Waits's ‘Telephone Call from Istanbul’.
‘I’ve clocked her,’ Samantha said, whispering through her jacket microphone. ‘Got a photo of the name card she’s wearing too as I brushed past her at the reception deck. She’s quite pretty you know.’
Sean rolled his eyes and heaved himself off the bed. ‘Good stuff Sam, and yes I know.’
A picture came through of the name card. Mrs Felicity Price it said. Liberty Travel. New York.
‘Let’s see who she bumps,’ Sean texted.
The exchanges with Samantha reminded him how good a surveillance operator she was. Sean looked at the conference booklet and the schedule of events. Organised by Marinex, he wondered if this was a front for the CIA? Maritime conferences like this would be perfect for them to try to tease government officials from rogue states into their arms. This place could be swarming with spies, Sean thought, flicking through the programme of events.
This brought Sean’s mind to how Nadège might recruit her target. And the tactics she might use. He needed to be ahead of the game for this. It was crucial he understood her motivations and her own vulnerabilities if he was to get anywhere with her. Sean suspected that Nadège would use the normal approaches of a spy trying to recruit an agent. She was clearly posing as an executive and her first job would be to peel the guards away from whoever it was she wanted to connect with.
I wonder if she’ll defect? Sean heard himself saying. What might her motivation be to act as a double agent? There must be something. He still didn’t know which button to push with Nadège. Yet.
Chapter 27
The Black Sea
Having spent the best part of four hours in the cabin with his thoughts, Sean decided he’d go to the reception lunch and then attend the afternoon session of the conference. He’d keep his distance from Nadège and rely on Samantha providing him with updates on her movements and the connections she made with other people. The timing of their next encounter would be crucial.
But something kept niggling him. Like itching powder under his skin. Four hours of deep thought came back to one thing. Why is Nadège so important? That question led to deep seeds of doubt being sown in Sean’s mind. Was he being used again? Was he being used as a fall guy here? He tried to shake off those doubts but couldn’t – too many years of being lulled into duplicitous events had taken their toll. He rarely trusted anyone, but he trusted Jack, right? After all it was Jack who had saved his life last time round. But Jack had a propensity for using pawns in the game to achieve a more strategic objective. What the bloody hell was it this time, he wondered?
An equally puzzling thought was the murder of the Mayor of Sarajevo by Nadège and her accomplice. Her lover? The blonde on the wall in the ops room who had visited Nadège in her hotel room. The common factor was Bosnia. The ex-CIA murderer of his mother had served there as well as in Berlin in the ‘80s. Sean didn’t believe in coincidences and made a mental note to check through the linkages of the Mayor and the ex-CIA officer as soon as he could. Given that Nadège was an international model flirting with the elite, there might be a common thread.
Samantha called. ‘She’s had a brush with a tall man with glasses. Looks Middle Eastern and very well dressed, cravat, the lot,’ she said. ‘It was a short brush at a coffee table, a two-minute chat at most. I’ll send you a picture now.’
‘Good spot Sam. Keep watching and give me a confirmation that he’s the target. I’ll be staying out of the conference but I’m up on deck 4 in the piano bar. You’ll need to send the picture back to The Court as I’m not here, remember?’
Sean peered out of the huge expanse of glass that provided shelter from the vistas across the Black Sea towards the coastline of the Crimea and the cities of Sevastopol and Yalta. The cruise was destined to do a circular lap of the Black Sea, a region of the globe steeped in the history of arms and weapons smuggling as well as the recent annexation of Crimea by Russia. The sea was calm, and the sun shone brightly at its apogee. He enjoyed the views and the time to think. His mind drifted to the times he had spent in Abkhazia and Georgia chasing down illicit radiological sources to disrupt terrorists smuggling the materials across Central Asia, through the Caucasus and into Europe. This time, he had another mission to find nuclear material and a bomber. All linked to Nadège. But the targets for unleashing the devastation remained unknown.
He leant across the table and grabbed one of the conference magazines. Just as he did so, he spotted a face that seemed familiar. It was a man sat three rows down who was looking at his phone. Sean tried to remember where he had seen him before. It wasn’t someone he instantly recognised, but more like a face he had seen in the crowds or amongst the passengers on the cruise. It alerted him. His counter-surveillance skills and observation were kicking in and it was a face he had seen at least twice. Might be nothing, he mulled, but he chose to go for a walk anyway to see if this bloke followed. Just as he stood up, he got a text from Samantha.
‘Same man, five-minute chat at the back of the conference room during the twenty-minute break. Your woman is good. She’s mixed with a few people but the only one she has chatted to so far is this man with the cravat. Nothing back from HQ yet.’
Ten seconds later another text. Sean sat at the bar on his way out of the room to see if the man had stood up. He hadn’t. He looked at his phone’s screen.
‘I picked up on their latest conversation. They are going to meet at 6.30pm for a drink before dinner.’
Sean didn’t reply but continued walking along the long external corridor towards the central part of the ship, where he decided he would conduct a series of moves to see if this bloke or anyone else was following him. He hadn’t yet forgotten the events of two nights ago, or the SVR threat, and he’d changed his appearance back to how it had been that night.
He had it in his mind that he’d strike against Nadège’s target that evening. But first he needed to be sure he wasn’t being tailed. Detours, he heard himself say. Slow gentle detours around the ship like any other guest finding their way on a new vessel. He made his way up the escalators to the grand entrance of the ballroom and stopped to admire the decor and the views across the starboard decks. He chose a position that allowed him to see everyone pass him from the escalator exit. Nothing. He leant on the balcony that provided the view to the shopping mall below. A young couple opposite him were doing exactly the same and an elderly man was taking photographs of the ballroom to his right. Sean scanned the concourse leading to the main deck and swimming pools through a set of automatic glass doors. He was looking carefully for faces he had seen before. The guy in the bar. Still nothing. Maybe he was too uptight, had lost his touch maybe? Doubts. One last move. Let’s tease them out. He strolled around the balcony to the main entrance of the gargantuan dining room and chatted briefly with a young woman behind the reception desk just out of view from the base of the escalator. That should have been enough to force a man to mount the escalator to check he hadn’t lost his quarry. He chatted with the woman long enough to know that such a tail would be on the escalator, then turned on his heels sharply.
He marched quickly into the gift shop next to the dining room, quickly enough that no one would see him unless they had someone else watching on that level. He scanned the escalator from a gap in the window display.
Sure enough the man from the bar was there. Exiting the escalator. He was looking over his shoulder and then backwards and forwards. Looking for someone. Trying to find his prey. Sean stepped out of the gift shop and casually made his way down the hallway. He had spotted a toilet at the far end of the concourse and would visit it. He walked down the corridor, stepped into the large restroom and made his way to the far urinal. He unzipped his fly. The man walked through the door while Sean glanced down at his non-existent pee. Quiet. He was sure no one else was in the traps behind him.
The man stood two urinals down and unzipped his fly. Just as he flopped his penis out, Sean sprung from his heels and started smashing the man’s head against the white tiles. Blood from his now-broken nose dripped down the tiles as he groaned in pain, both hands protecting his vulnerable todger. Sean knew a man with his hand on his cock was easy prey and vulnerable. It was an old pub trick he had used on more than one occasion. He smashed his head a third and then a fourth time, before letting him crumple to the floor unconscious. Sean grabbed him under the arms and bundled him into the far toilet cubicle, heaving at his chest to sit him up on the toilet seat. He quickly checked the man’s pockets and took a photograph of the man’s face using his mobile phone.
Bang. The entrance door to the toilets had opened and shut with the loud noise of metal on metal. Was it a second tail checking on his colleague? Sean waited. And listened. A good crew would have a second. It went quiet and the door opened and shut again. Maybe he’d just knocked out an innocent bloke? No, he was a follower alright and he’d seen his face somewhere else, though he couldn’t remember where. Subconsciously, Sean had clocked his face, but it was fleeting, non-specific, just a face in a crowd. But enough of a glance for Sean’s mind to know he’d seen it before. He checked his pockets again. Top pocket, a slim Galaxy phone. Sean secured it in his right-hand jacket pocket before checking the man’s trouser back pocket. He balanced the body awkwardly then grasped behind his backside. He took all his belongings – wallet, watch, phone, cigarettes – just like any mugger would do.
Sean took a breath. He checked his suit. Just a few flecks of blood on his shirt, which he could hide by buttoning his jacket. He looked at the man’s face again. Mediterranean looks, clean shaven, dark black hair. Mid-forties, he thought. Where the hell had he seen him before? Had he thought longer and deeper, he’d have known it was the man who had been photographing him on his visit to the Blue Dome with Nadège.
Chapter 28
The Black Sea
5.20pm. Corridor 25 heading towards cabin D0386. Sean followed Nadège’s contact along the corridor, loitering five metres behind him, poised to strike.
The well-dressed man was carrying an expensive-looking briefcase, swopping it from one hand to the other before he reached inside his right-hand pocket for the cabin key. Senses tightening, Sean increased his speed, watching the man place the key in the lock and then turning it twice to the right before pushing the handle to open the door. During those few moments Sean lunged forward, kicking the man in the back of the knee with an open foot and striking hard against the popliteus muscle. The man let out a cry before crumpling in a heap. Sean grabbed the man, swinging him with brutal strength to force him inside the cabin before kicking the door shut. In his mid-sixties, the man was no match for Sean’s speed and strength, nor did he have any inclination to fight back. The shock of the assault made him totally submissive.
‘Shut the fuck up and do exactly as I tell you,’ Sean shouted, exerting pressure on the man’s shoulder socket. ‘If you do everything I tell you then you won’t be hurt. Understand?’
‘Yes, yes, please, hurting, stop. Please,’ came the reply in patchy English, which was slightly muffled as his mouth had been floored.
Sean grabbed a bunch of plastic tie wraps from his jeans and began strapping them on the man’s wrists. ‘On your feet,’ Sean barked, moving to bolt the door. Wriggling and rolling, the man eventually found his feet with some help, looking terrified as his eyes met Sean’s.
‘Turn around, forehead on the wall, feet apart.’
Sean quickly searched him for any weapons and, despite the man’s age, he was taking no chances. He took a phone and wallet from his pockets, placing them on a bench next to the TV.
‘OK, sit down over there and stay bloody quiet until I talk to you.’
Sean grabbed his phone and punched out a text to Sam. Two minutes later came a knock on the door. Samantha entered, looking ready for action. ‘His briefcase is over there,’ Sean explained, locking the door.
‘What do you want with me?’ the man said fearfully. ‘What have I done?’
Sean dragged a chair and sat opposite the man, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. ‘It’s not what you’ve done. It’s what you are about to do for us. Now, what’s your real name?’
‘Javid. Javid Saaid.’
‘Who are you working for?’
‘I’m a retired scientist from the University of Karachi in Pakistan. I was for thirty-five years before I retired last year.’
‘Teaching what?’
‘Nuclear engineering. Is this about that woman I met today?’
‘Yes. Now listen very carefully to me,’ Sean said sternly. ‘You need to tell me everything you have been told to do and what she is after. We are from the British government, working on a case of nuclear smuggling, and I can have you arrested and banged up in Turkey within seconds of giving the nod to the authorities. Do you understand?’
‘Yes I do. But I was asked to do this by some government people. I think they were government.’
‘Why do you think that?’
‘After thirty-five years working on nuclear technology in Pakistan, you get a feel for who’s who, believe me. They threatened me with the loss of my grandchildren if I didn’t comply. Said they’d make sure I was found to be a paedophile. It’s horrible.’ The man took a moment to control himself. ‘I’m just a courier and was told to meet this woman at a holiday conference in Vienna two months ago, which I did. She passed a note to me requesting some data on nuclear technology and I returned to Karachi to tell these people what she was after. They told me to comply with her requests. I’m just a go-between and a scientist – I want to protect my family, you know. I never wanted to do this. They said I’d never have to do it again.’
‘Why a travel conference though?’
‘She said it would attract less attention, and I travel a lot with my wife on cruises. I’m retired now, but they obviously did their homework on me. I’ve been attending holiday and travel conferences for many years.’
Sean knew by now he had a complicit agent. He could tell. Someone that the Pakistani intelligence service, ISI, had probably got to. Someone easily corrupted by the Iranians or Russians to make sure Nadège got the technical details she needed. Sean needed the full story of what the well-groomed man was supposed to be doing here and why. He reached around the man’s back and cut the tie wraps.
‘What is it you need to do at this conference? I need to know everything.’
Samantha helped the elderly man drink some water, calming him, before he answered. ‘I have to give her an encrypted pen drive at dinner this evening. Then, over the course of the cruise, I need to explain some of the technical elements she needs. I’m supposed to meet her at 6.30pm.’
‘Good, what else?’
‘The men in Pakistan told me to create the designs she needed and return to this conference with all of the details of a nuclear device laid out in plans and documents. She must already know someone who understands how nuclear fission works with explosives because she gave me some very precise questions laid out in the documents in Vienna.’
This was all beginning to fit for Sean. The rogue British Army explosives expert who had gone missing �
�� could it be him? The background Jack had provided on him showed that he was an expert in chemical and radiological devices. This all fitted with the suitcases Sean had found in the woods in northern Turkey. NIGHTOWL was putting a complex plan together for building a nuclear IED. Sean had now confirmed it.
‘OK, we don’t have much time. Where’s the pen drive?
‘In my spectacle case inside my briefcase. I was told to place it on the table when we had dinner. She would put her glasses in it and take the case.’
‘Good. Fire up your laptop and I’ll take it from here. You’ll do everything I tell you, OK?’
Sean watched the man’s hand shaking as he retrieved a brown spectacle case from the briefcase. He opened the case, revealing a silver pen drive inside. Sean placed his laptop on the table, entered the password and let it run the security scans on the pen drive to ensure it was free of malicious code. He then placed it in the port of the secure laptop Samantha had brought with her and asked Saaid to enter the password. There were only two files on the drive. A Microsoft Word document and a PDF. He opened the twenty-four-page Word document.
The document contained a mixture of text and drawings plus a few mathematical computations and equations. Sean had no idea what they represented. What he did recognise was a drawing of a gun device. A drawing that showed how a gun device operated to produce a nuclear improvised device and of a type that the West had long been fearful would end up in the hands of ISIS. The gun device worked on the simple mechanism of firing a large piece of uranium-238 down a barrel at immense speed to collide with another piece of uranium and create a nuclear explosion.
The Kompromat Kill Page 20
