The Kompromat Kill

by Michael Jenkins

  ‘You said that my mother was murdered. How do you know this?’

  ‘Wait. Let me tell you what happened.’ He put the mask on his face and took several breaths of the clean oxygen. ‘It was 12 November 1986. Marcella had just turned forty-one. Something was irritating her and she wasn’t herself at all that night - but she never told me what was on her mind. I’ve gone over the events of that night so many times. In the end it drove me insane. Because you see…’ He cleared his throat with a weak cough. ‘…because you see, Marcella was the fifth of my agents who had been killed in less than four months.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that. You were a brave man yourself, operating as you did behind the Iron Curtain.’

  ‘Perhaps. I’ve been told by those wretched doctors that the layers of trauma sent me into a spiral and I literally went mad overnight. I never remembered anything of those days until thirty-odd years later. I was a mentally disturbed man, still am. But my memory awoke and it all came flooding back.’

  Zatopek had suffered an almost fatal episode of internal trauma that had caused his memory to be shattered. He entered a world of disassociation, a world of amnesia. The levels of severe trauma he had faced had been the cause of his psychogenic amnesia. With this rare condition, Zatopek’s mind rejected his thoughts and feelings from those days, and his memories became too overwhelming to handle. His mind shut down. In the end, he was diagnosed as one of the very few people in the world to suffer from psychogenic amnesia. The condition manifests as an act of self-preservation, where the alternatives for him may have been overwhelming anxiety or suicide. It was all a mystery to the medical experts. Throughout the decades he had been nursed and looked after by his daughter and a dozen or so mental-health experts and nurses.

  ‘This snuffbox was your mother’s,’ Zatopek elucidated. ‘A gift from me when she arrived in Berlin. She took it everywhere with her. I was sat in the very bar where she last held it, watching over her. She didn’t know I was there, but I wanted to watch over her that night. I had a feeling that something wasn’t right. Not right at all. I should have pulled her out when I had the chance. You see, at each location where she’d meet her contacts, we had a dead-letter drop for emergencies. A code to tell me if something was amiss or if she needed to call a halt to a defection plan. I assume you know your mother was the expert we had in Berlin to get people to the West?’

  ‘I do, yes.’

  ‘We had a team on standby that night to follow her and pull her out. But when I went to the dead-letter drop location in the garden the note inside the snuffbox insisted that the job was clean and that it should proceed.’

  ‘So why did she leave the snuffbox there?’

  ‘It was a safeguard in case she didn’t return. A contingency. Her legacy, actually. She obviously felt there was a threat, enough of one to leave the box. But she wasn’t convinced there was enough to abort.’

  ‘And the note inside?’

  ‘Well, the note and box are yours to keep young man. The encrypted note provided me with a location where she had stored all the files of an investigation that she had been carrying out for many years. An investigation into the ghastly activity of some very nasty people in Berlin at the time.’

  ‘So, if I’m hearing this right, she wanted to give you these files in case she never returned. My guess is she knew there was a chance she might be killed or taken.’

  ‘Oh she did. Her body language told it all. But, probably like you, she was a very determined and very brave person. A very independent woman. She hated it if I stepped in or acted as her minder. What she eventually uncovered were the corrosive secrets of a dark underground gang in East Berlin, a group of men who had revived the name and modus operandi of the Ringvereine.’

  ‘The Ringvereine? Who are they? Some kind of mafia?’ Sean looked at Jack to see if he had ever heard of them. Jack made a face to indicate he hadn’t.

  ‘The Ringvereine were prominent in Berlin during the Weimar era, but only one or two rings still existed in the ‘80s. Most experts had suggested they had all totally disappeared in the ‘60s. But they hadn’t.’ Zatopek paused and breathed deeply. ‘You see, they were communities of like-minded convicts and members of the German underworld, who aspired to a petty-bourgeois lifestyle and, above all, to respectability. The East Berlin Ringvereine had re-invented themselves and were engaged in extensive prostitution, the drugs trade, the management of the city’s nightlife and protection rackets.’

  Zatopek paused again, his voice wavering quite a bit now. ‘The Ring Brothers could be identified by the identical signet rings they wore and they were bound to absolute secrecy. Their criminal clubs had melodic names like the High Chaparral or Blood of the Apache. Their prostitution rings developed a sinister side that Barrington made use of – prepubescent girls. Underage girls. That’s how he began his relationship with the criminal underworld of East Berlin – abusing and using teenage girls.’

  ‘My mother uncovered all this? By herself?’

  ‘Yes, and much, much more. The Stasi’s links to the Ringvereine were strong and your mother knew she was entering dangerous territory investigating them. But she wouldn’t stop. It was her doggedness that kept driving her on to smoke out the criminals and then hand the evidence to the CIA. Many young girls suffered at the hands of these elite gangs.’

  Sean was astonished at what he was hearing, eager to know the full unadulterated story. He needed to know more about his mother. Barrington’s linkage to the Bosnian sex gang was exactly the same evil that his mother had uncovered in East Berlin. Barrington had been doing this wherever he was stationed for decades. Sean took a moment to walk around the room, making a mental note to check out all of his overseas postings.

  ‘Did she find anything else? I mean serious evidence of wrongdoing that can be used now?’

  ‘It’s all in the files. Jack, will you do the honours on my behalf?’

  Jack reached into his brown briefcase and pulled out a dossier. ‘This is what D had been researching for the last year,’ Jack began. ‘It was in his safe alongside the snuffbox when he died. It took me a while to join the dots, but D asked me to make sure this case was finished. You see, D came here to visit on quite a few occasions, having put together a case that could see Barrington charged under US law. Barrington is as evil an agent as we’ve ever known Sean. Truly evil.’

  ‘He’s a bloody dead man walking Jack, you know that. Justice for my mother and for everyone he’s killed is coming. There’ll be more we don’t know about.’

  ‘I understand. Let’s keep that for later. Mr Zatopek will explain the other things we have found out together.’

  Zatopek was now taking more oxygen, feeling the strain. His daughter pushed the wheelchair around the desk, so that he could sit next to Sean.

  Sean looked the old man in the eye. They had an intense connection. Zatopek had pain etched all over his chiselled face and was riddled with guilt. That was for sure. Sean became emotional when the old man tried to reach out with a shaking hand to place it on Sean’s. He didn’t have the strength and his hand fell. Sean felt a twinge of sorrow at the man’s pain. His dying days were punctured with the misplaced shame he bore.

  ‘Where on earth did my mother hide all these files then Jack?’

  ‘With a law firm in West Berlin. Under lock and key. Sadly, Mr Zatopek was never able to see the files as he became ill and lost his memory the day after your mother went missing. Once he realised your mother was not coming back from that last mission, he plummeted.’

  ‘How on earth did D pick all this up? The whole story is heartbreaking on so many levels.’

  ‘The snuffbox sat in this house for thirty years after Mr Zatopek retrieved it from the Berlin bar and your mother’s files sat for the same period of time in the offices of the West Berlin law firm. It was only when Mr Zatopek’s memory came back last year that he was able to tell D. To show him the snuffbox and tell him where the files were. We sent a team to break into the law firm’s of
fices and retrieved the dossier.’

  ‘Two safes, two huge secrets then Jack. You never cease to amaze me. What’s next then?’

  ‘Well, there are most certainly a lot of loops to close Sean. I propose that you and I retire to the city to discuss those.’

  For Sean, the last few moments in the company of Jack and this amazing old man seemed to all go in slow motion. He watched the old man wave a shaking hand to his daughter, gesturing for her to bring one last item. Zatopek looked exhausted by the lengthy discussions and Sean could see that he was frail and very tired. He sensed that the old man would go to his grave a contented man now that he had finally been able to lay his guilt to rest with the son of his most favoured agent.

  A map was passed to Zatopek. A map from the 1980s, showing the border between East and West Germany.

  Zatopek looked at Sean, tears in his eyes, breaking down fast. ‘This is where your mother died Sean. Marcella is buried somewhere here.’

  It was while he was following the map being placed on his lap by the old man in slow motion that Sean broke down.

  Chapter 45

  France

  At a train station somewhere in the south of France, a man and a woman casually walked the concourse pulling trolley backpacks. In a nearby airport, a number of highly trained detection officers provided a covert presence in the baggage reclaim hall. They were part of the US’s NEST teams. Their backpacks contained radiation-detection equipment that Jack and Laura hoped would be able to detect a terrorist’s nuclear device being moved across the country.

  At the same time, located in a secret hangar somewhere on a sprawling US airbase in southern Germany, preparations were being made by the forward elements of the NEST team, who had transported over thirty tons of technical equipment from Nellis Air Force Base in Nevada.

  ‘Maybe we should start with where you think the target of the bomb is Sean?’ Jack asked, passing the wine list across the table at a Bohemian restaurant close to Prague’s Old Square.

  ‘Maybe you should tell me how the hell you lost a nuclear bomb Jack. It’s not a good position we’re in right now and your career as a civil servant looks like it’s heading down the pan right now to be honest.’

  ‘It’s not a nice place to be in, I agree. You go first.’

  The mystery of Jack never stopped giving. Sean wondered what else he had up his sleeve and if this was a ruse all along? He took out the well-thumbed map that he’d found in the bomber’s boot, unrolled it and placed a couple of glasses at the ends of it to keep it open.

  ‘This is the target Jack. Somewhere in the area of the Cantabrico. This is the Atlantic shipping forecast map the rogue bomber had on his person.’

  ‘I see. The Biscay area on our British shipping forecast map.’

  ‘Yes. You don’t seem at all shocked.’

  ‘No, I’m not. This piece of the jigsaw has just confirmed my own intelligence.’

  ‘You mean you know the target?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Bloody hell Jack,’ Sean said, exasperated. He waved at the waitress, needing a stiff drink. He chose a Mâcon-Villages and asked for a beer as well. ‘How on earth do you know?’ he continued, making sure their conversation wasn’t overheard as they sat at a discreet corner-table of the restaurant.

  ‘Well, you’re not the only officer I’ve had working this case Sean. There’s been plenty of other activity too.’

  Sean felt the nip of Jack’s barbs. ‘I always knew you had something up your sleeve Jack. But what exactly? What the fuck is going on?’

  ‘The target is the G7 conference in Biarritz.’

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘Jesus wept. You’re not even joking.’ Sean felt embarrassed that he hadn’t worked it out from the map. Now it was becoming clear. The G7 conference was taking place in three days’ time, when the leaders of the world’s seven leading economic nations would all be gathered in the same place.

  ‘So, as you can see Sean, the only way we can tackle this now is by using the nuclear ninjas, as you call them. The NEST team are now in situ and searching for the bomb. It’s a race against time.’

  The highly secretive NEST teams were given the nickname ‘nuclear ninjas’ in the mid-1990s, after Time magazine ran a feature covering their secretive capability.

  Jack continued. ‘Yesterday, the equipment stored in containers was loaded onto military cargo planes and a small advance party flew to France to set up a command post at Cazaux Air Base. It’s a safe distance away from the G7 conference should a nuclear explosion take place.’

  ‘Should a nuclear explosion take place! How do you stay so calm and matter of fact? This is off the Richter scale.’ Sean ran a hand through his hair and took a hit of his beer. ‘Exactly how far have they got in finding the device? Any clues yet?’

  ‘It’s a huge operation Sean, and is now being handled by Laura and the CIA in conjunction with the NEST teams and US Special Forces. The fact that the US President is due to fly into Biarritz in two days’ time justifies the operation and you’ll be playing a part in it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s a long story, I’m afraid. I need you to lead the hunt to find Nadège and her Iranian master. You see, the whole grand plan has been designed by her Iranian handler, General Alimani, as an extortion plot against the US President and the G7 leaders over the Iran sanctions. An extortion plot to stop the crippling sanctions against Iran and get the Americans to back off with their military plans. It won’t work and we must find them. They have their hands on the nuclear trigger but we don’t know where. Alimani is the mastermind behind it all. The Iranians have gone for full-scale death and chaos across Europe and this nuclear extortion plot is their final act against the big Satan.’

  ‘How on earth do you know all this Jack? This is pure fantasy stuff. Armageddon across Europe.’

  ‘From my other agents. What I do know is that he’ll go through with the plot and detonate the bomb if he has to. That’s how he’s designed the entire operation. Now let’s enjoy the food and wine because we’re up early in the morning and the Americans are flying us straight into France.’

  Jack poured wine into Sean’s glass and told the peculiar story of how the plot had come to his attention. General Ali Alimani, a high-grade Iranian spy and the Director of Kuwaiti military intelligence, was afforded regular access to the British and American Embassies and their defence attachés. He had inside knowledge of their foreign policy and their military plans for the Middle East and, even better, he had access to many of the Middle East’s Western elite through his wife, a French national who worked in the French Embassy. General Ali would regularly be seen in the Embassy’s bar dressed in Western clothing including a New York Yankees baseball cap, and was often seen smoking cigars outside the bar on the wooden benches. Alimani had been embedded into the Kuwaiti military as a young lieutenant but his Iranian masters, even in their wildest dreams, never expected him to reach the lofty heights of a general within their intelligence services. There are many Iranian agents in the Kuwaiti ministries, due in part to their Shia dominance – but Alimani’s rise to fame was the stuff of legends. In the area of Qurain is a house that set him on a trajectory to being a national hero. He was one of eighteen members of the Kuwaiti resistance who made a valiant last stand against the Iraqi military might a day or so before the coalition liberated Kuwait in 1991. The Iraqis bombarded the position, heavy artillery killing eleven of the men. Alimani became the leader of those who remained and fought the last ground battle with the Iraqis, exhibiting bravery that would become part of the folklore of Kuwait. His rise to fame was rapid, and his escalation through the ranks of the Kuwaiti military was made on that soil.

  ‘Your work tracking down the bomb-making equipment in Turkey was immense Sean,’ Jack said casually, tucking into a starter of kulajda, a traditional South Bohemian soup. ‘We now have teams ready to interdict the terrorists across European cities as they prepare to plant their bombs.
Alimani’s plan is to set off one or two bombs in Europe before issuing his extortion demands to the G7 on the first day of their conference.’

  Sean was listening intently now. He began to realise the magnitude of what Jack had uncovered and what he had put in place. It was extraordinary. ‘If you get any of this wrong Jack it’ll be curtains for you and many others. How on earth are you going to stop this madman?’

  ‘It’s risky stuff. Bloody risky. But we have one or two things in our favour. Now, the bit I don’t know is, where do they plan to detonate the bomb from? Where’s the trigger? Where’s their base? What is their escape plan? Any ideas?’

  ‘Well, just one thing. Nadège told me that she had my child. Nine years ago. She’s most probably lying, but she did say something about San Pelayo de Tehona after she nearly killed me by firing bullets into my cell.’

  ‘She’s not lying Sean. She did have your child. Why do you think I sent you to turn her? Only you could ever have got close enough to her. She still has feelings for you.’

  ‘Bollocks,’ Sean said, feeling his irritation rise. ‘She nearly killed me twice. Once when I first met her, and the second time when I last saw her. She’s a crazy assassin Jack and if I get the chance I’ll slot her.’

  ‘Maybe. First things first, we need to find her and find her fast. Samantha and the SIGINT teams are working with the Americans on that. Let me send them this location. San Pelayo de Tehona.’

  Jack spent a moment tapping out a text to Samantha while Sean decided he needed to ply himself with more wine.

  ‘How the hell do you know she had my child? How do you know it’s true?’

  ‘It came from a man who is now deceased. He was the British diplomat who went missing. Duff.’

  ‘No way. What the hell happened to him? Nadège mentioned him when I was in the cell. Reckoned he didn’t have long to live and was one of her targets for assassination.’

  ‘Edmund Duff was kidnapped by the Russian GRU on Nadège’s orders in return for her supplying intelligence she had gained from him. You see, they were lovers for over a year and he was purposefully targeted by Nadège. She was acting as a double agent with the Russian GRU, handled by Colonel Sergei. Sergei made sure Duff was fully interrogated by GRU agents before he was murdered by Nadège’s lover, Petra.’