Judgement

by Fergus Bannon

  'Spy-stuff?'

  'Yeah,' he croaked.

  'Something to do with these?' She touched the bandages and plaster on his chest and arm. When he didn't answer, she pulled his head off her so she could look into his eyes. 'Are you in physical danger?'

  He swallowed hard so that he could speak clearly. 'I shouldn't have come to see you,' he realised he was whispering, 'but I made sure I wasn't followed. I was desperate to see you.'

  She smiled. 'So I noticed.

  'But it's OK... I figured I owed you one after raping you at the climbing contest.' She hesitated then continued in more earnest tones. 'I know a cabin in the Allegenhys...'

  He shook his head sadly. 'I can't run away from this.'

  Her concerned expression made her eyebrows flatten out into almost perfectly straight lines. He laughed.

  'Can't I do anything to help?'

  He smiled and touched her breast.

  This time he was in Middleton's flat. Nevis was clawing wildly at his hands but Stallard and Durrell were managing to hold him down.

  'I'll tell you any fucking thing you want to know,' Nevis shrieked. His glasses were cracked and had slipped down below the ear on one side. Leith numbly pushed Nevis' tie aside and ripped open his shirt. Running his hand down over the thick black hairs, he counted out the first three ribs.

  'No! God no!' Nevis was sobbing now, but Leith's hands were not his to control. Nevis managed to jerk a little as the knife cut through his skin, but then it was firmly into the muscle and couldn't be dislodged. Putting all his weight onto the knife, Leith felt the flesh yield easily. Then, through the handle he felt the deep thudding vibrations as the blade pierced Nevis' heart.

  Nevis screamed, then Leith was going backwards, Stallard and Durrell at each shoulder, pushing him out onto the balcony and over into the void.

  CHAPTER 10

  Langley, Virginia

  Leith wolfed into the hamburger, uncaring of the ketchup and mustard drooling out onto the tabletop. His appetite was back with a vengeance, and he was making up for a week of abandoned meals.

  He slurped at his thick chocolate shake and cast a happy eye down over the slate grey waters of the Potomac. The autumn sun had already dipped down below the red plastic parasol above his table, but its light was weak and didn't bother him. The fast food joint was filling up with commuters fresh from work. When he had parked his car the lot had been empty, but now the MGB was hidden from view by other, bigger cars. He put down the milkshake and sighed with pleasure.

  It was as though a curtain had suddenly been thrown open, the cleansing light washing away his hopelessness and despair. The sleepless nights, the dodging of shadows, the conviction he was being followed, had all turned out to be paranoid delusion.

  He laughed quietly to himself as he recalled how morose and withdrawn he had been at work, how he'd gained a reputation as a grouch among his new workmates. For this and his sporadic bursts of nervous anger, he had gotten disapproving looks from Forbes.

  Ah, Forbes. Did he have good news for her!

  His remit to track down those company people in on the conspiracy hadn't gone as planned. It had started out okay and the information had certainly been there. Forbes' section had high-level access to just about everything, including gate records, work logs, and vacation and sickness listings. The company employed nearly 40,000 people, but numbers trained for covert action nowadays was little more than one thousand.

  He'd used Stallard's database to identify fifteen incidents he was confident were the work of the cabal. To differentiate these from run-of-the-mill terrorist outrages they had to be large scale, carefully targeted acts of violence aimed at a specific goal and producing an unexpectedly high degree of success. The fifteen he had chosen had all taken place over the past two months, and should have given him plenty of data to work on. Stallard had stressed that all they needed was one member of the cabal to be clearly identified. Durrell and his men would do the rest.

  It wasn't until the conspiracy had mushroomed into thousands, and despair drove him to look for something to take his mind off the horror, that he checked something that had been bothering him. A weird idea from the Las Vegas incident which just wouldn't go away.

  And he'd made the discovery that had changed everything.

  He finished the hamburger and wiped its remnants off his face with a napkin. Checking his watch he saw that Forbes' was due any minute. He’d taken a memo to her at lunchtime, giving her the coded message signifying he wanted a meeting. It seemed wiser to defuse this thing quietly. The company would have to be alerted so that plans could be drawn up, but Stallard was better qualified for that.

  At the table next to him a Japanese family were sitting down. One of the kids said something in a high-pitched petulant tone, instantly stilled by one fierce look from the Nikon-bejewelled father. The little boy cast his eyes down and started to unwrap a hamburger.

  Impressed, Leith smiled to himself and turned back to see Forbes striding towards him. Her breasts jiggled nicely under her grey blouse; and her black skirt, though not tight, didn't disguise the comely shape of her hips.

  'You're looking very attractive toady, Dr. Forbes,' he said as she sat down.

  She looked at him in amazement. 'What?'

  'I said...'

  'I know what you said. I just want to know why,' she held up a warning hand, 'and don't dump that corn on me again. You've spent the last five days skittering around like a whipped puppy. Now suddenly you're all smiles and come-ons!'

  Leith beamed at her. 'I've got some good news, and I want to tell the others. We've got to arrange a meeting with Stallard and Durrell and...'

  'SHUT UP.' Forbes' eyes were blazing. She leaned forward, speaking in a hiss through clenched teeth: 'This place isn't secure, you idiot. Don't mention any names!'

  Leith spread his hands and chuckled. 'It's ok. You see,' his face split into a broad grin, 'there is no conspiracy!'

  Keenly interested in the effect of his words, he watched as her jaw dropped slightly. He sniggered, satisfied at the response. Then he stopped. She wasn't looking at him but at something over his shoulder.

  'Don't move. Keep your hands in full view or we'll shoot.'

  The voice sounded hard, its owner hyped-up.

  Leith did as he was told. Rough hands pushed under his jacket, feeling for a gun. Meanwhile a slender black man dressed in a grey suit walked round behind Forbes, gun in one hand. He ran his hand over Forbes' body, even up under her skirt and between her legs. Behind him, Leith could hear the Japanese coughing up their hamburgers in surprise.

  'Put your hands on your heads and stand up.' The voice was a little less tense this time. It sounded like the speaker had stepped back a little. As he stood, Leith had to step around his chair and this gave him a chance to look at the guy. The man had a similar business suit to the black guy but looked older and bigger. The jacket bunched slightly at the thick muscles on the upper arm.

  The man jerked his gun towards the parking lot. 'Start wa...' he began, but was interrupted by a chattering sound from somewhere back in the lot. Something rippled up the man's chest, then red holes appeared suddenly in his neck. His gun discharged, the flash burning across the back of Leith's hand, and the man staggered back into a table taking it to the ground with him.

  Leith spun round to see the black man in a crouching position with gun aimed towards the lot. Following it, Leith saw a man weaving towards them. Then the chattering sound started again, something in the man's hand flashing. Leith could hear glass shatter behind him and people started screaming. Forbes pulled him to one side just as the black guy's head snapped back and he started to fall.

  'Follow me. MOVE.' Leith belatedly recognised 'John' and hurried after him towards the lot. Forbes was in front and barefoot. He found himself wondering when she had ditched the high heels.

  They ran onto the rougher surface of the lot. A screeching sound to the left stopped Leith in his tracks. A car leapt forwards towards John.
He levelled his machine pistol and swept it to the left. A line of spiders' webs appeared across the windscreen then it imploded onto the occupants.

  John started to run to his left but the car altered its course towards him. At the last minute John dived back towards Leith, and Forbes but the radiator caught his legs and his body jack-knifed round to crunch into the front wing of the car. He hung there for a split second before being flung to the side. The car screeched to a halt and the back doors flew open, men with guns scrambling out and seeking cover behind other cars. On the ground John was still alive but he'd lost his automatic weapon. He reached into his jacket but then started to twitch as bullets slammed into him.

  'RUN!' he heard Forbes yell, and then he was stumbling after her away from the lot and back towards the restaurant. Someone yelled at them to stop, then there was a single shot and Forbes lost her footing. Going too fast to avoid her, Leith’s legs caught her back as she fell sideways and he crashed onto the gravel surface.

  He felt the skin on one side of his face scraping against the road. By the time he managed to sit up the men had reached them. He looked across at Forbes who was bent double clutching her stomach, her face white with pain. Blood was already beginning to ooze out from between her fingers.

  Leith looked up stupidly into the barrel of a gun and wondered if he'd feel the bullet smashing through his skull.

  Back at Langley, Durrell was getting into his car. It was a 740 Volvo, turbo powered and with the heavy impact strength he always liked to have on his side.

  Today had been hard, a never-ending bombardment of reports and other trivia. He wondered if they'd designed it that way, to prevent him recognising the signs. If so, they needn't have bothered, he thought grimly. They trained him to be paranoid. He saw signs everywhere, all the time.

  Pulling out of the parking bay, he turned right onto the feeder road at the end of the section. It was getting late and the only cars in the lot were the compacts of the cleaning staff. Fifty yards from the guard post he saw Carlsson in a blue jogging suit, with a 'go-faster' white stripe across the shoulder and down both legs and arms.

  Durrell's wide brow twitched in puzzlement. What the fuck was he doing back...?

  And then he knew for certain.

  Durrell jammed his foot down hard on the accelerator but the land-mine blew even before the turbo could cut in. The Volvo inverted instantly, crashing down onto the trunks of a line of cars. The whole front section seemed to leap at him, the steering wheel buckling under his chest but taking some ribs with it. Blood splattered the dashboard and he felt the safety strap cutting into his throat, choking him.

  Fumbling now at his chest, trying to find a way past the buckled wheel to the Ingram, he was showered in glass as the side window was kicked in. An arm clad in blue with a white stripe along its length, pushed the muzzle of an automatic into his eye.

  'Don't try it, Tom!'

  It didn't come out well: it felt like his windpipe was caving in, but at least it was understandable.

  'I'll kill you, Carlsson!' he screamed. 'I'll fucking kill you!'

  CHAPTER 11

  Drake Federal Penitentiary, Maryland

  The cell was growing dark, but Leith didn't mind. It made it easier to think. He sat quietly on the bunk, his back against the coarsely plastered wall, mentally twisting and turning the complex conceptual structure that he had built up during his incarceration. Clad in the rough prison clothing, in this Spartan cell he had begun to feel more monk than prisoner. And he felt his contemplation had been rewarded.

  The air was suddenly filled with the penetrating clanging and clattering which heralded the opening of the door. Maybe this time, he thought, or perhaps its just more questions.

  The big black guard called Elphinstone who was responsible for this wing of the isolation block sauntered in. Eyes brimming with merriment shone out of a big hard face, which split into a wide grin as he stared down at Leith's slumped form.

  'Heads up, men! It's show time!'

  Leith regarded him balefully. 'Can't I just be left alone for a few hours?'

  Most of Elphinstone's face took on a very stern look, but the eyes gave him away. 'Not in my isolation wing you can't!' he said, striking a heroic pose, hands on his hips, and stared out of the window at a sheer cement wall which separated the unit from the rest of the prison. 'Besides, this ain't your CIA pals. This is more R&R. Entirely for your own benefit,' he added, waving a hand at Leith 'It's OK, you don't have to thank me.'

  Leith was surprised. 'A visitor?'

  'Not a visitor. Not as such.' Elphinstone indicated the door. 'After you.'

  Leith heaved himself to his feet and slouched out onto the landing, his hands thrust deep in his pockets. The landing was deserted. He'd been considered such a security risk that all the other cons had been moved out. He followed the directions Elphinstone had given him, walking through long stretches of featureless corridors filled with the ever present prison smell. Two parts man sweat to three parts tomcat piss, he estimated. All the time he could hear Elphinstone padding along behind him.

  They came to a door, which Elphinstone unlocked. Leith heard him lock it again after he had ushered him inside. The room was painted in a drab yellow and was bare but for a wooden table, two chairs and a single occupant.

  'Stallard!' The man looked reduced in his prison greys but he got courteously to his feet and forced a smile as they shook hands.

  'It's reassuring to see you again, Bob. I'd begun to think I was the only one they'd left alive.' He sat down again slowly and carefully, Leith guessing the sleep deprivation was making him giddy.

  'Are you all right?'

  Stallard smiled wanly. 'No, to be honest. Brings back uncomfortable memories. Not the sleep deprivation, they weren't that sophisticated in Vietnam. No, it's the four walls...the helplessness.' His voice tailed away.

  'Vietnam?'

  The older man nodded. 'The Ho Chi Minh Trail. It's true what they say, you know. The Cong beat us with bicycles. They just loaded them up with the supplies and wheeled them round the bomb craters the B-52s made. Delayed them a little but never stopped them. I was the first intelligence officer to discover that but before I could report back they caught me. I was shut away for nearly two years. They did things to me I can't begin to describe.'

  His eyes met Leith's. 'That's why I was genuinely upset to discover what Durrell had had done to you.'

  There was silence for a few seconds as Leith tried to think of something to say.

  When Stallard was looking at him again, Leith mouthed the word: 'Bugged?'

  The older man looked at him for a few seconds, disbelievingly. 'Of course it's bugged,' he said in normal tones. 'We know it's bugged and they know we know it's bugged. They know everything, though they don't seem convinced they do. Do you have news of any of the others?'

  'Halliday's dead,' Leith replied flatly. 'Emma Forbes got shot through the back while we tried to make a run for it. Nasty exit wound in the stomach. I don't know how she is.'

  Stallard put his head in his hands. 'Poor Emma,' he said softly.

  'And you?' Leith prompted after a few seconds.

  Stallard shook his head. 'They picked me up at Langley. I was alone. They just walked into my office and arrested me. When they drove me out of Langley we passed some wrecked cars in the lot. A big Volvo was upside down on a heap of others, and there was a small crater nearby in the road. My guess is that's how they got Durrell.'

  'My God!' Leith blinked in astonishment. 'The bastards!'

  Stallard shook his head. 'On the contrary, that demonstrates remarkable courage and restraint. The crater wasn't big enough for an anti-tank mine: that would have turned even a Volvo to confetti. It must have been one of the anti-personnel variety; just enough to flip a car over. They clearly had hopes of taking Durrell alive. They must've been desperate to question him.'

  'You don't sound hopeful.'

  'Durrell isn't the kind of man you can disable with shock. It just isn't
in his genes. As long as he's alive and conscious he's bad news. I admire them for taking such a risk. If I'd been in their shoes I'd probably have had a couple of snipers take him out from long distance.' He smiled, then must have seen the look on Leith's face.

  'You look shocked. You've got to understand that Durrell's a highly trained nightmare. You can't afford to take chances.'

  Leith realised belatedly how the man's manner was confusing, perhaps deliberately so. It made you confuse gentility with being gentle. A new thought occurred to him.

  'John appeared from nowhere when I met Dr. Forbes. That's when the shooting started. Was he tailing her?'

  'Sure. He was Emma's protection.'

  'Didn't I warrant protection?'

  Stallard shrugged. 'Not enough manpower, dear boy, sorry.' He stopped. 'If John was there you must have been meeting Emma outside Langley. Why?'

  'I had something important to tell her. And you.'

  Stallard looked puzzled. 'I don't understand. They picked you up, then...Why didn't they wait for you to lead them to me and others?'

  Leith lowered his head. 'It could have been coincidence but I did mention your name at the meeting place just before all hell broke loose. I guess its possible they were using a long-range listening device.'

  Stallard sat back in his chair. 'You've killed us all!'

  Leith shook his head. 'No, I haven't. That was what I was about to tell Forbes. OK, it did shake me when they came down on us like a ton of bricks, but when they brought us to this place...' He gestured around then looked back at Stallard. 'Kind of odd, locking us up in a federal penitentiary. Rather public, wouldn't you say?'

  'Maybe. The company has many resources.'

  'Wouldn't it have been a lot less embarrassing to use other resources for our interrogation like a warehouse somewhere? Speaking of which, as interrogations go, it was rather mild.' He looked hard at Stallard, knowing he was being mean, knowing he was just trying to shift his own guilt. Stallard had hit the nail on the head. He'd been feeling sick for days, blaming himself for the deaths of John and the two other men, and for Emma's shooting.