'And this rather intimidating gentleman to my left is Tom Durrell. It's his job to keep us all alive in the troubled times ahead.' Neither Forbes nor Durrell bothered to acknowledge the introduction, though neither took their eyes off Leith.
'And as for me,' the man said with a faint air of bashfulness, 'my name is Michael Stallard. I'm Comptroller of Western Hemisphere Intelligence.'
Great, thought Leith numbly. He'd expected maybe a few lower echelon mavericks on a warped crusade against the Forces of Darkness. The feeling of hopelessness returned more strongly than ever. Escape could only be a temporary respite from these people. They had the resources to find him anywhere. Worst of all, they might send Durrell after him.
Stallard looked suddenly rather sad and penitent. 'I realise that I can't begin to apologise for the horrors we've put you through,' he seemed to brighten up a little bit, 'so I'm not even going to try. Believe it or not, we've almost certainly saved your life!'
Leith said nothing.
'I'm quite serious, Dr. Leith,' Stallard hurried on. 'There's something which you don't seem to have worked out,' he stopped for a second then spread his hands out, palms up. 'We're not the conspiracy you think. In fact we're the only people in the intelligence services whose good faith you can be sure of.'
Leith shook his head. 'So why put me through all this?'
Stallard smiled again. 'Come on, Dr. Leith. You of all people must be familiar with the concept of the stalking horse. You and your colleagues use it all the time to flush out your targets. The conspiracy you've stumbled upon is very widespread indeed. We were afraid they were after us.'
It did make a kind of sense. They had x-rayed him to make sure he was not carrying any homing devices and they had tortured and drugged him to get him to admit he was working for the conspiracy.
'Why bother? Why didn't you just leave me alone?'
'It was to both our mutual advantages. It was to ours because we're very few and they are many. Your assistance could be very useful. It was to your advantage because they'd have sought you out and killed you.'
Leith shook his head again. 'There doesn't have to be many at all. You'd need only a handful of people to blow away Middleton and his gang.'
'That's right.' Stallard was so good that Leith could almost believe his distrust was hurting the man. 'But you've found only one piece of the jigsaw. Dr. Forbes, if you would be so kind...'
Forbes reached across to the terminal and pulled the keyboard closer. As she tapped in a few commands she began to speak.
'The Woodhaven incident was only one of many,' she looked up at Leith, 'in fact it's arguably the least significant. On the continental US the worst incident occurred at Las Vegas four days ago. I presume you heard about it.'
Leith remembered it vaguely. It seemed like a lifetime ago. 'Yeah, dead gangsters, right?'
They all looked appalled.
Stallard cleared his throat. 'Really, Dr. Leith. I must confess to being taken aback by your lack of knowledge. This was one of the greatest mass slayings outside wartime that has occurred in this country. On the ground, at least. The death toll was an order of magnitude greater than the St. Valentine's Day Massacre. The Agency pays you to be aware of these things.'
Leith felt his face get hot. 'I've been busy. Solving mass terrorist slayings, being kidnapped and tortured. That kind of thing.' He was shouting.
Stallard put up his hands and looked abashed. He seemed to be about to apologise but Forbes started to speak:
'In fact some one hundred and thirty 'gangsters' were killed, Dr. Leith. We have a security video showing what happened. It was taken in a corridor below the Crusader casino. The corridor led to a room where there was a high level meeting between narcotics syndicates — the Mafia and the Colombians specifically.'
The flatscreen monitor lit up to show black and white freeze frames of a corridor from two camera angles. The corridor was crowded with men, seated in two rows facing each other. Leith heard Forbes tap a key on one of the notebooks, and the video began to run. One second, the men were sitting peaceably, the next World War III broke out. He watched in horror as men died.
'We'll come to the precipitating cause in a minute but, for now, note two things. Only one man got out of that corridor alive.' In synchrony with her words a man leapt up and disappeared past the camera. The view froze: 'yet there were originally twenty men in there.'
She looked at Leith again but this time there was real intensity in her gaze.
'With that many people, even in a gunfight at short range, you'd expect some survivors. At least, for a while.'
She tapped a key and the picture unfroze. 'We got teams of ballistics people to match the scores of bullets fired and the guns used. It turns out nearly half of these men were finished off by guns that weren't accounted for.' She fast-forwarded the video. The bodies lay unmoving, then the screen went black. 'But the tape ends before that bit.'
'Now let's check out what happened next door.'
This time the men were older and they had a long expensive table separating the two sides. They started out prosperous and menacing, but ten seconds later they were all dead. Soon after that to the top left of the one camera's view a man burst into the room, gun drawn. Then he, too, toppled forward and was still. The gun he had carried was the first one Leith had seen in the conference room.
'None of the forty men in the main room were killed by any guns that we have recovered since. There were at least six weapons used in these executions, ranging from something like a Saturday Night Special up to a heavy calibre machine gun.'
'I can't see where the shots came from.'
Forbes nodded. 'Neither can we. Most of the room isn't covered by the cameras: it seems the people who set them up were just interested in monitoring the bosses for the sake of the bodyguards outside, and vice versa. We can't understand why these people would let anybody else into the room when they left their bodyguards in the corridor.'
'Are there any other entrances to the main room?'
'No, and I know what you're going to ask next. The cameras were turned on just before the meeting started. Nearly everyone, including the killers, had arrived.'
'Maybe it was a three way meet: Mob Colombians and perhaps the Triads or the Yakuza, even the Yardies. Maybe the third party wanted all the action.'
'That was our first conclusion. But there's problems. Why didn't this third party bring its own bodyguards, why were they allowed into the room with guns when nobody else was, why did the bodyguards shoot each other and not burst into the main room to protect their bosses from this supposed third group?'
She shook her head. Her perplexity seemed to make her angry. 'Another fifty-four corpses were found in the rest of the hotel. Most were the 'home team', the local gangsters who seemed to have been refereeing and policing this little social. The other twenty dead were the backup team of bodyguards who were off-shift in their rooms or in one of the bars. They were all taken out, most on a one-by-one basis. Perhaps Agent Durrell would like to comment on that.'
The big man cleared his throat then spoke in even, almost mild tones. 'You'd have needed a whole SWAT team just for one of those animals. They were spread out through the whole hotel. There would have been a lot of noise; the others would have been alerted. The team's work would have got progressively more difficult. It would have taken hours but forensics says that wasn't so. All the targets were taken out more or less simultaneously.'
He paused and looked ruminatively at the ceiling. 'In my opinion you'd need at least sixty or seventy highly trained combat personnel to mount that kind of operation. Stuff on that scale just isn't achievable by any criminal or terrorist groups. Nor by any foreign intelligence services.
'People like the Israelis could mount that kind of thing but only on their own soil. Not here; it was just too big.' He shrugged. 'That just leaves us with the domestics. Military Intelligence maybe, but they couldn't have handled the foreign jobs Forbes is about to outline. It just leaves
us with the Company.' He looked back at Forbes.
'Thank you, Mr. Durrell,' she smiled slightly.
It was this last little civility, on top of all the horror of his last twenty-four hours, that made him blow. His outburst before had been but a premonitory rumble, now the fear that had held back his anger was swept aside. He hammered his fist down hard on the table. The silver spoon jumped out of his saucer and skittered noisily across the table.
'Pull yourself together!' Durrell's flat tones filled the sudden silence with deep menace, but it was not enough. Leith was already on his feet.
'Pull myself together!' he roared. 'Four fucking great holes drilled in my arm and a slab of flesh butchered off my chest and you tell me to pull myself together!' His hands clawed into fists and he felt the heat of blood in his cheeks.
Durrell moved slightly, leaning his left shoulder back against the chair, his lapel falling clear of his armpit. Leith saw the dark stubby handgrip nestling there and wondered if he was going to die. Fists raised impotently to shoulder height, he froze.
He became aware that Forbes and Stallard were looking across at Durrell. When Durrell realised this too, his broad brow creased.
'What did you expect? You said to be sure.'
'Your men mutilated him?' Stallard's voice had become harder.
Durrell shook his head in disbelief. 'With all due respect Comptroller, I don't think you realise the problems of interrogation, particularly when there are severe time constraints. I...'
'Never mind,' Stallard cut him off. 'We'll talk about this later.'
He looked quickly away from the glowering.
'We really are sorry, Dr. Leith. Please sit down again. I'm sure I speak for Dr. Forbes when I say that we're shocked by your treatment,' Forbes nodded. 'I must nevertheless take full responsibility. It was at my behest, although I never suspected that your 'rough treatment' would have permanent effects.'
Fear of Durrell made Leith sink back in his chair.
Stallard kept looking at him, his concern apparently genuine. He waited a few more seconds but when Leith said nothing he cleared his throat and continued.
'The important point, Dr. Leith, is that there have been numerous incidents like this. There are also, on the face of it, marked inconsistencies, politically speaking.
'In your own verbal report to Dr. Nevis you implied this was a right wing conspiracy. Incidentally, that took a remarkable conceptual leap on your part, bearing in mind the tenuous nature of the evidence. Can you wonder that we were suspicious?
'But to get back to the point, it's certainly inconceivable that a left wing conspiracy of this magnitude could exist within the Intelligence Services. The Woodhaven and Las Vegas deaths are indeed consistent with right wing death squads operating at home. But when working abroad they seem to take a more catholic political remit. Dr. Forbes?'
She nodded. 'You must understand, Dr. Leith, that with this level of conspiracy it becomes almost impossible to separate paranoid fantasy from reality. There are brutal and unpleasant incidents going on all the time somewhere in the world. Even so there has been a perceptible increase in this background level of violence and mayhem. Much has been in Central America and seems directed against members of the right-wing death squads,' she hesitated, her lips pursed.
'It’s no secret that the CIA previously had close contacts with these people and gave them a lot of covert aid. Foreign policy has shifted since then, but the Agency still considers these people major sources of intelligence. They do not seem a likely target for a right-wing cabal, yet more of them have been assassinated in the last month than in the previous three years put together!'
She turned and typed something on the terminal and a series of images flashed across the screen. 'Crippling acts of sabotage have also shown a major upswing recently. Supply dumps, armaments factories, oil refineries have taken a hammering across the world. These incidents occur almost exclusively in countries with repressive regimes, but otherwise they can be found across the whole political spectrum. China, South Africa, Sri Lanka. If this is the responsibility of just one group then we haven't been able to get any kind of ideological fix on them.' She looked back at Stallard.
Stallard was looking quizzically at him. 'You don't seem impressed.'
Leith tried to dredge up the energy for a reply. 'There's maybe something here but I think you're going way over the top. These kind of things do happen all the time.'
Stallard smiled and nodded his head enthusiastically. Leith was astonished by the amount of effort the man put into being polite.
'I think you may be right but could I possibly be allowed to emphasise one point?' He actually waited until Leith at last felt duty bound to nod his head. 'If this conspiracy is behind even only a fraction of these operations, then they still have more than ample resources to silence every one of us.'
He paused and tried to look severe. 'When you first arrived I said we had almost certainly saved your life. Perhaps you're beginning to glimpse the truth of this. Even taking the best-case scenario, the intelligence services are permeated by a powerful conspiracy whose motivations and affiliations are unclear. Power like this — especially one which places such a low premium on human life — poses a major threat to this country. There can be no doubt that they would eliminate us if they perceived us even as any kind of threat.'
Stallard picked up his pen and put it into an inside pocket in his jacket. 'Clearly we must tread very carefully as we compile more evidence. We daren't take this to anyone else in the company. The conspiracy must extend up to the level of at least one Deputy Directorship.'
Forbes and Durrell nodded sagely, and Leith knew then they were all crazy.
He realised Stallard was still talking. '…interested, it was Dr. Forbes who first hypothesised the existence of a conspiracy. She and I have worked closely together over the years and I am pleased to say she trusted me.' A nod and a smile. 'I brought Tom in. All sorts of things could happen and it's always best to have him on your side right from the beginning.
'You'll stay here for the rest of the week and the weekend. You'll have access to our files,' he pointed vaguely in the direction of the computers.
'Are you secure?' an obvious question but too important not to be asked.
'Our systems here aren’t even connected,' Forbes answered. 'They’re totally isolated from the outside world. Any relevant stuff you come across at Langley, you take out as sneaker-ware.'
'Risky.'
She shrugged. 'What else can we do? If we tapped into any company computer it would give them a bridgehead into ours.'
Leith folded his arms and sighed. 'So you are going to let me go.'
Stallard looked crestfallen for a second, then smiled broadly.
'I'm sorry if I didn't mention that little point, which I see is of some concern to you. Yes, we will let you go, but I must insist that you look through the data we have collected so far. I'm confident it will convince you. Don't talk to any of Durrell's men who you see about the house; they know little of what's actually going on.'
'What will I tell the people at Langley on Monday morning?'
'I'll handle that,' said Durrell with arrogant assurance. 'You've been to stay with a friend while you were ill with gastro-enteritis. I'll arrange the friend and the medical certification.'
Stallard stood up. 'I'm afraid I must leave you now. Dr. Forbes will show you the computing facilities, then Tom will show you your room. He'll assign one member of his staff to make sure you're comfortable.' The slight emphasis on the last word managed to convey the concept of supervision. 'Good day to you all.'
Stallard made for the door, his stride energetic and jaunty. He didn't attempt to shake hands, perhaps realising Leith would ignore the proffered hand, perhaps realising that there were limits even to his charm.
CHAPTER 9
Chilton, Washington
He woke from the fuzziness of a half sleep to find 'John' standing over him. Blond hair, wide forehead, cold, cold
eyes. Memories of ill treatment rammed into his consciousness. He sat bolt upright in the bed.
In the gorgeous, Tudor-style, four-poster bed.
Shaking his head in bewilderment he started to remember.
'Good morning,' said John, laying a tray of coffee down on the bedside table.
'Yeah, thanks.' Leith lay back against the pillows as John left and waited for his heart rate to return to normal.
The house and Stallard's implacably polite manner both reeked of a fortune in old money. Even Leith's bedroom, one of the smaller ones in the house, was bigger than most New York apartments. Large south-facing windows let in enough light to stop the wealth of dark seasoned wood making the room look gloomy. A notebook was perched incongruously on top of a mahogany and green leather desk. A Panasonic toughbook, the kind the military used in combat situations; they were hardy as fuck, but cost several grand.
Stallard's predictions had proven true. Far from being a prison, his house now seemed like a place of sanctuary. Out in the real world malevolent forces were undoubtedly at work.
The coffee was delicious. Dark and full-roasted, it eased his passage into the day. He savoured it, concentrating on the taste to the exclusion of almost everything else. Then he had a shower in the en suite bathroom and dressed. While he finished his coffee he turned on the TV at the foot of his bed.
The early morning news was full of the bombing in Queens, and several other mass slayings throughout the country. All seemed to be linked with the Las Vegas incident, power struggles just like Lundt had predicted. In the rest of the world a few of the countries with spicier regimes were under martial law; Turkmenistan, Israel, China. Just about all points south, in fact. All being brought slowly but inexorably to the boil.
He dreaded the thought of leaving. Stallard and the others had left him pretty much alone over the last few days, letting him browse at will through their database of clippings and reports. It had taken only a few hours to convince him of the frightening and widespread powers of the conspiracy. Manpower intensive operations, which must have been logistical nightmares, had been mounted all over the globe. Each country laid the blame on local terrorist groups who, after years of general ineffectuality, were suddenly supposed to have got their act together. It was only by looking at the picture as a whole that the real scale of the nightmare could be glimpsed.
Judgement Page 16
