‘Well, yes.’ To her surprise, it was one of the young ushers who half-rose, half-bowed towards her. ‘Just one question, if I may… When your husband was serving with the SAS, Mrs Swale, would you have expected him to discuss with you an operation on which he was about to embark?’
For a moment she felt like a witness about to be torn to shreds by Counsel. But she could see the point of the question, that it could be highly relevant. She told him, ‘He always talked about — well, what it was like, how he felt, and so on. Without any details such as obviously would have been secret. But I suppose not before, either — where he’d be going or what for… I suppose really the answer to your question must be no.’
‘His coming along and talking about it was a surprise to you, then.’
‘His visit was a surprise anyway, it’s hard to separate the two elements. What he said surprised me — which is why I telephoned Colonel Prentice. But — he did make the point that he was only guessing at Syria, so he wasn’t revealing secrets — meaning conversely I suppose that if they had told him, he’d have kept his mouth shut… But also he had his own reason for wanting me to know. Leaving the Regiment really shattered him, and the fact — he thought it was a fact — that they’d given him a good reference as it were, to the SBS — well, he was very happy about it and he wanted me to know.’
The young man nodded. ‘Thank you very much, Mrs Swale.’
‘Excuse me.’ The other lad now. ‘Sorry — and this may seem an unnecessary question — but there is the possibility that he’d been instructed to give you that information… But one gets the impression that you quite unhesitatingly believed — believe now — that he was telling you the truth. Is that the case?’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Might he not — conceivably — have been selling you a false bill of goods?’
‘Not knowingly, no. I’m convinced he believed what he was telling me. He’s an extremely forthright person — no liar, he’d be a truly rotten actor.’
Prentice had nodded agreement. The questioner glanced at Bremner, murmured, ‘Thank you, Mrs Swale.’
‘Right.’ Prentice got up from the table. ‘I’ll run Mrs Swale home, then I’ll come back.‘ Addressing Salvesen: ‘If you’ll excuse us. Actually I doubt if you’ll need me again, but I’ll remain available just in case. Having come all this way.’ He nodded to the Royal Marine: ‘See you presently.’
*
The Marine — his name was Charles Hislop — had confirmed, in answer to Salvesen’s questioning that there was no current SBS involvement in or near Syria, and that there’d been no approach to Charlie Swale.
He added, ‘There’d have been no question of headhunting outside the Squadron anyway.’
‘Ah.’ Salvesen nodded. ‘Major, I had no opportunity earlier on to thank you for joining us, at such short notice.’
‘Since it’s my Squadron‘s name that’s being taken in vain…’
Bremner brought the subject back to Anne Swale’s evidence. ‘That was the first I’ve heard of Swale having said the objective was to rescue someone. Either she didn’t tell Colonel Prentice, or he forgot to pass it on. So it’s not in these notes, but it should’ve been.’
‘Tightens the link with the Damascus Report, clearly.’ Salvesen asked. ‘Are we agreed there must be a link?’
Vestey nodded. ‘Surely. One and the same conspiracy.’
‘So what light might either throw on the other?’ The DUS looked at Bremner. ‘Can you develop your earlier theory now?’
‘I’m convinced it’s a set-up. Theorising, I’d say quite possibly Soviet-inspired. Plain fact being that a pseudo “SBS” team has left — I think they’ve already left — for a destination in or near Syria. We can take it as fact because in my view Swale does have to be believed.’ He glanced at the assistant who’d been the second to question Anne Swale. ‘You were right to consider the possibility he might have been primed with it — even believing it himself — but on reflection that won’t wash, will it. Whoever’s running him could hardly count on his spilling it to the wife, from whom he’s separated. And he certainly wouldn’t reckon on her passing it on to his us via Swale’s former CO. So we can forget that, I suggest… But as to the pseudo team’s destination, I’m betting heavily on Cyprus. It’s so much the most likely place — OK, places, plural — that Special Branch have a man on his way out there—’ Bremner checked his watch — ‘in the air by now, flight to Larnaca, photograph of Swale in his briefcase.” He nodded to Prentice. ‘Courtesy of the SAS, who were rushing it to Heathrow and please God should have made it to a rendezvous with this guy in the departure lounge. Otherwise he won’t get away until this evening, which may be too damn late.’ He shook his head. ‘Could be too late even as it is… Anyway — the next logical step in our reasoning on this might be to ask what anyone would expect to gain by this deception. But hang on, I’ll come back to that. First let’s consider this — that what we know now, through Swale’s leak to his wife, indicated that the Damascus Report was not planned disinformation, that it may have been a fortuitous leak giving us detail that even Swale didn’t have.’
Salvesen frowned. ‘I may be missing the point. If you’ve made it.’
‘I’m leading to it. But I’ll start again… Take it as read, Swale was telling his wife the truth as he sees it — he was about to leave for foreign parts in company with at least one individual whom he believed to be SBS, with the object of rescuing “some guy” — whom we can assume to be Stillgoe, target area therefore Syria. As he’s guessed, and as the Damascus Report alleges. But leaving that report aside for the moment, let’s try to answer two questions. One, why would some group want to impersonate an SBS team and go into Syria? Why in so doing would they take on the enormous complication of having to delude Swale as they have done?’
Salvesen murmured, ‘Your questions, you answer them.’
Bremner nodded. ‘But that task — convincing Swale — just think of it. Among the problems they’d have to face must be that they can only travel out there on a civilian flight, regular or charter.‘ He looked at the Royal Marine. ‘Imagine having to sell that to a former SBS man, Major.’
‘You wouldn’t. No one in his right mind would buy it.’
‘So it’s lucky for them that Swale may not be in his right mind.’
‘Hardly luck, if they picked him for it.’
Bremner smiled agreement. ‘Another factor is that being ignorant of SBS ways of going about things, and wanting to go along with them anyway, he’d adopt a “when in Rome” attitude and simply accept it all. On top of which it’s conceivable that the planners may have underestimated some of the problems, just had the luck to get away with it. So far, they’ve got away with it: let’s hope to God…’ He checked himself, and went on, ‘But anyway – answers to those questions, now. Or attempts at answers… To question one — well, they sure aren’t doing it for our comfort. The aim has to be to drop us in the shit, have the world see us as involved in some — well, some thoroughly invidious situation. A frame-up, in fact. And at this point I’d refer back to our conclusion this morning — conclusion reached on the basis of the Damascus Report alone, remember — that there might be a Soviet involvement in an attempt to lure us into Syria. It’d be a trap, and we saw a strong enough possibility to warn us off any such physical intervention.’
Salvesen nodded. ‘Check.’
‘Well, we also asked ourselves whether they’d really expect us to fall for it, and we concluded they might if they appreciated the value we put on getting Stillgoe out. But suppose they decided we wouldn’t go for it, that we’d be too canny? Then might their solution not be to ensure that an “SBS” team went in anyway — their team?’
‘For the sake of argument, we might accept this, I suppose.’ Salvesen added, ‘With a fairly hefty pinch of salt. Seems rather far-fetched to me, anyway — despite awareness that there are more things in heaven and earth, etc… But where would it get us in relation to your s
econd question? What’s Swale’s part in this scenario?’
Bremner steepled his fingers, stared across them at the DUS …
‘If the scenario’s more or less as I’ve outlined it — and far-fetched or not, I’d say it has to run pretty close to it — well, consider this. What if the pseudo “SBS” could take in with them a British special-force officer, who after they’d got in there—’ he paused. frowning, wanting to get it right first time — ‘look. I’m thinking aloud, putting it together as I go—’
‘They’d leave him behind, wouldn’t they.’
The Marine had suggested it. Everyone except Bremner looking towards the door at that moment as Bruce Prentice arrived back. Bremner was staring at the SBS man: approvingly again, appreciating a mind that saw things, as is own did… ‘Yes, that’s it. If I were planning this, Swale would be destined to fall into Syrian hands. Captain Swale, SAS — nobody’s going to believe ex-SAS… Imagine it — they’ve nabbed him, and he believes he went in there with the SBS, he’s sure of it. Anyone’s guess what they’ve been up to. An attempt at assassinating Al-Assad, something of that nature?’
‘No, surely.’ Vestey piped up. ‘Swale would know they’d had the rescue mission as their objective, wouldn’t he?’
‘Nobody has to believe him. And it’s what happens after they get into Syria that would count. Which is up to them — and whether he likes it or doesn’t, by that time Swale’s part of it.’
Salvesen muttered, ‘Oh, Lord…’ Glancing round then at another interruption. One of Bremner’s aides, the one who’d asked whether Charlie ordinarily discussed SAS business with his wife, had left the room at the same time as Prentice had taken Anne Swale away, and now he was back, virtually on Colonel Prentice’s heels. He was offering Bremner a file of notes, and the MI6 man was scanning them swiftly… ‘Nothing?’
‘Afraid not.‘
Charles Hislop was talking quietly to Prentice, bringing him up to date on progress. Bremner nodded to the young man: ‘All right. Thanks.’ He looked up at Salvesen as the DUS asked him, ‘One point in connection with your admittedly very frightening scenario, John. If persons unknown were sending in this team impersonating Special Boat Squadron, why would they have alerted us by leaking the Damasucus Report?’
‘I think you could take your pick of two answers. One, they did not leak it — not deliberately. This would mean that Stillgoe is there, of course: in which case I admit I don’t immediately see the tie-up… So forget that, and we’re left with the situation as I’ve guessed at it — our heads already in the trap, nothing we can do but wait for it to be sprung. Then screams of protest, world headlines and not an Arab alive prepared to give us so much as the time of day thereafter.’
‘So the leak was deliberate, you’re assuming, so—’
Bremner snapped his fingers. ‘— so it’s on record here. We were told — the ambassador in Damascus — we’ve spent the whole day trying to sort it out. Could you go before a Select Committee — or even face a mob of probing journalists — and swear you’d never heard of it?’
‘But — heard of what, exactly?’
‘Of the reported fact of Stillgoe being in Syria. Where by that time an allegedly SBS team will have intruded and — well, God knows what.’
The DUS sat speechless, absorbing it. Vestey muttered, ‘We’d be saying no, we did not send in the SBS or anyone else. But we’d also have to admit we knew Stillgoe was there, within reach of the coast.’
‘Exactly.’ Bremner nodded. ‘Who’s going to believe for ten seconds that HMG had not sent these people in?’
‘We could be barking up an entirely imaginary tree.’ Salvesen — searching for a straw to clutch at. ‘It’s pure hypothesis, you must admit.’
‘Yes, I do admit. But it also happens to meet the questions that otherwise seem unanswerable. I’d be delighted if someone would come up with an alternative scenario, one that fits and doesn’t give me the shivers. Sure, it’s guesswork, but — look, that use of Swale, for instance—’ he nodded towards the SBS man — ‘his guess, not mine — it’d be savagely effective, and I can’t think of any other reason they’d want him.‘ Turning to Vestey — ‘But Hugh — a minute ago you said something about Stillgoe being “within reach of the coast”. I think we should bear in mind that although the Damascus leak probably was deliberate, we may not have been meant to know the precise location. Seems a bit odd, I know, but this was the view expressed in the ambassador’s report, wasn’t it. And he has the girl there — Miss Thornton — I mean he has the story straight from the horse’s mouth, we’ve no business ignoring it.’
‘So what deduction—’
‘Logically, that report wasn’t supposed to include information that might put us in a position to take any preventative action, surely.’
‘So the point’s academic, unless we were contemplating a military response.’
‘Since we’ve ruled out any such — yes…’ Bremner shrugged. ‘The snag is, of course, that if we take no action — well, we’re on to a hiding to nothing, aren’t we.’
Allowing time for comments from any of them, he reached for the notes his assistant had left with him. Prentice had nodded, agreeing with that last observation; the Royal Marine, who’d been jotting down notes from time to time, looked thoughtful as he made another.
‘May as well tell you—’ Bremner, starting up again — ‘what we and others have been doing in the last few hours, in the hope of stopping these people short of their target… These are lists of flights from British airports to destinations in and around the Eastern Med. Quite a few such destinations would put them in reach of the Levantine coast. From Heathrow, for instance, flights to Larnaca in Cyprus at 0935, 1445, 2100. Cyprus is still busy with tourists at this time of year, incidentally… Or, they could be flying to Istanbul and from Ercan in Turkish Cyprus. Flights 0855 and 1236 from Ercan alight Famagusta for embarkation — don’t ask embarkation in what. Kyrenia could be an alternative, up in the Turkish half, but it’s on the wrong coast, isn’t it, not at all convenient. Same applies to Paphos in the south — too far west. Not that this has to rule either of those places out, but—’
‘Isn’t there some kind of airfield at Paphos?’
He nodded to Bruce Prentice. ‘Was. Abandoned, now. Anyway Ercan might be Famagusta it doesn’t have to be Cyprus, you see. Beirut, maybe — or Damascus, Athens, Cairo. Or charter flights — not so many now, admittedly — to such places as Crete or Rhodes. But Special Branch and/or Five have covered the lot now, and the name Swale — all we have to go on, isn’t it — doesn’t appear on any list at all. Myself, I’d bet on Cyprus, but…’ he shrugged — ‘anyone’s guess… And all right, they could have left via some continental airport — if they’d had any reason to suspect we might on their trail. This takes us into the area of private charter aircraft — hire companies, flying clubs. Our colleagues aren’t overlooking any of it, but so far they’ve drawn blank; and as I see it, we’ll either get our clue now, or never. My own people have been alerted, of course, and Special Branch have a man on his way out to Larnaca. He’ll check there, and Famagusta and Kyrenia, and also follow up any leads from RAF Intelligence. We’ve asked for their help, and from the Army at Dhekelia. From Akrotiri they’ll be checking on any reports of foreign bodies on their own doorstep at Limassol, and I hope also Paphos. Liaison with harbour masters, and so on. From Dhekelia they should cover exits from Larnaca and Famagusta. Somewhat needle-in-haystack, mind you, hell of a lot of yachts around to confuse the issue. But there we are… Oh, Special Branch were getting a warrant, they’ll have been into Swale’s flat by now, in case he left a diary note or anything. But that’s it. Unless we strike lucky in the next hour or two—’ he dropped his notes on the table — ‘well, frankly, short of military intervention of some kind — and let’s not forget they may be smarter than my scenario gives them credit for, this entire act could be aimed at forcing us to react…’
He’d checked his own flow of words. Vestey
said, ‘If our ambassador in Moscow can get to Assad — which he surely will unless there Soviet involvement in this business—’
‘Yes.’ Salvesen looked like a man having a bad dream. ‘That “unless” is certainly valid. Although failure to contact him might not be proof of Soviet involvement. Assad’s own posture, in the shadow of the Hindawi trial, for one thing…’ He shook his head and glance at Bremner. ‘If you’re right in your guesses and we can’t get through to him, just sit and twiddle our thumbs in the hope that sooner or later contact should be established.’ A pause, as if seeking words, solutions. ‘Well. You’re right — a hiding to nothing.’
Bremner had nothing to add. He’d said it already. The DUS looked at Prentice and at the Royal Marine beyond him. He said quietly, carefully, rather as if aiming to play down the import of the question ‘To enable us to make recommendations that take into account whatever options may be open to us — especially as they don’t at this stage seem to be exactly numerous — how would you advise on the practicability or otherwise of some kind of physical intervention?’
Prentice murmured, ‘Your shout, Charles.’
‘Well.’ Hislop’s calm eyes held Salvesen’s. ‘If we could get out there fast, and if these people’s boat — or ship, whatever — can be identified—’ he glanced at Bremner — ‘which let’s hope may result from the steps you’ve taken—’
‘But then surely—’ Prentice suggested — ‘we might ask the Greeks or the Turks to arrest them, in whichever harbour—’
‘Hardly.’ Bremner explained, ‘Very sensitive toes all over Cyprus, one needs to tread warily. I’m sure the FCO would advise extreme caution?’ They both nodded; Bremner added, ‘Apart from the Greco-Turk confrontation, with assorted Blue Berets on the de facto border between them, we have Athens tending to support Damascus, the whole place alive with Syrians on holiday, PLO on leave or otherwise, Israeli spooks — well, my God, you name it!’
Special Deception Page 13
