Deadly Game

by Matt Johnson

  Don’t go for it, Toni thought.

  ‘OK,’ said Howard. ‘Give me half an hour.’

  The speaker went quiet.

  ‘He’s ended the call,’ said Stuart.

  ‘What happened there?’ Toni demanded. ‘I thought he always went to see his little prostitute on this particular evening?’

  ‘He does,’ said Batey.

  Stuart interrupted. ‘He must have fancied the chance to use the hotel room. Luckily for us, she wasn’t up for it and she suggested the usual place. We’d better get moving if we’re going to be ready for them.’

  ‘Well, it’s just as well she did,’ said Toni. ‘For one minute there I thought we’d blown it.’

  As Nell and Stuart gathered their kit, Toni headed into the alleyway behind the hotel and climbed into the waiting taxi cab. If their predictions were right, inside of half an hour Howard Green would be walking along St Pancras Way, having made the short tube ride to King’s Cross. It was a journey he did every night, and from the mainline station he would catch a train to his home in the countryside.

  It had taken some considerable effort on her part to persuade Dave Batey to authorise surveillance on a fellow Secret Service officer. At first, he had dismissed as complete nonsense her suggestion Howard Green was behind the use of her security pass. But, the more they had discussed it, the more it had made sense. Batey had eventually conceded that, when Toni had disobeyed Green’s warning to keep away from Chas Collins, he’d followed up with an effort to discredit her. And that meant Howard Green was behind the killing of Dominic McGlinty. Faced with a good reason for the assassination, Batey had come round to Toni’s way of thinking.

  Soon after, he’d had Howard watched as he headed home from his office. It was impossible to listen to his workplace calls inside MI6 headquarters, but both his mobile telephone and his home line were now the subject of twenty-four-seven monitoring. It hadn’t taken long for the surveillance to produce something Batey knew they could use.

  Amongst the commuters, Howard was anonymous. He was one man – dark suit and overcoat, umbrella and briefcase; just another citytype journeying home. Nobody paid him any attention. Everyone on the evening trains kept themselves to themselves, heads down, collars up, unaware of the melee that surrounded them. But every so often, Howard slipped away from his fellow travellers and varied his journey. By checking CCTV from the station, the surveillance team spotted a regular break in his routine. And they soon found out what it was he was doing. He had a rendezvous to keep.

  Howard would walk to a small block of flats about four hundred yards from Euston Road, nestled between King’s Cross and St Pancras Stations. The surveillance team had reported, as he entered the backyard of the flats, it was clear he was familiar with the route. They saw how, with only limited light from a nearby lamppost, Howard easily found the fire escape stairs leading to the flat roof which, they noted was high enough to be above the reach of the street lights. In shadow, it was a perfect meeting place.

  In the darkness, Howard’s appointment would be waiting. He would hand her some folded-up cash and then, without a word, she would turn and place her hands on the parapet wall that overlooked the street.

  Howard’s response was the same each time. He would lift the woman’s short skirt, stroke the skin of her buttocks for a few seconds and then start to spank her. He always used his bare hand and always struck her six times. It was his routine. Then he would unzip his trousers and take the object of his lust from behind.

  Toni had been shocked as Dave Batey presented her with the photographs. His reaction had been more cynical. He’d heard rumours – nothing concrete, but enough to suggest what his team might uncover.

  It was the supposed normality of it that Toni found hardest to comprehend. Within a few minutes of experiencing open-air sex with a prostitute in the middle of London, Howard would return to the station concourse as if nothing had happened, as if it were all part of his normal working day. And to any casual observer, he was perfectly normal. By then, he was just another man heading home to a warm house, a hot dinner and a dutiful wife. Just another man in a suit carrying an umbrella and a briefcase.

  Just another man with a secret.

  Chapter 75

  Howard leaned over the parapet, apparently checking that the taxi had departed. The woman was waiting for him, as promised. She turned, faced the wall and hoisted up her skirt.

  Toni checked the clock on the screen of her laptop. She was timing him, hoping against hope he took long enough for Stuart to get in position.

  Seven minutes later, Howard tucked his shirt into his trousers, zipped his fly and straightened his tie.

  ‘Longer than normal,’ she said to herself, cynically. If he followed his routine, Howard would be heading back down the steps to the street in just a few moments.

  He didn’t disappoint. As she watched, her target leaned towards his companion and muttered something before picking up his umbrella and briefcase.

  Toni smiled. In the doorway to the street, a tramp would by now be sprawled on the footway, blocking the exit. Howard would be obliged to climb over the sorry man, being careful not to step on him or cause any unpleasant confrontation. There would be an acrid stench of alcohol and stale urine. Then, if all went as it should, as he stepped clear of the tramp, another man would appear in the doorway: Dave Batey; smartly dressed, a dark wool overcoat covering his blue suit.

  With his experience, Howard would, of course, recognise the threat. He would turn quickly to head back up the stairs, but it would be too late. The ‘tramp’ would have stood up, a 9mm Glock pistol in his hand levelled at Howard’s stomach.

  Toni cupped her hand over the tiny earpiece that sat in her right ear. Dave Batey’s voice reached her.

  ‘Please don’t think of running, sir. Just put your hands on your head, link your fingers and relax. We just need a few minutes of your time.’

  They had him.

  They would search his clothing and body for weapons, making sure that he understood that they knew what they were doing. They would work quickly and methodically, keeping a safe distance from Howard’s feet and placing their own bodies in such a way that any attempt to strike would be blocked. He would recognise the experience and professionalism displayed by their method.

  ‘He’s clean,’ she heard Stuart report.

  ‘Pull around the corner,’ she said to her driver.

  The black taxi started up. As they came to a halt adjacent to the building stairwell, she saw Stuart was covering Howard from behind. Dave Batey allowed a moment for her driver to climb out of the taxi before stepping forward and opening the rear door.

  She was ready. The first thing Howard would see as he stepped inside the passenger compartment would be a figure sitting in the shadow at the far side. In the half-light he would catch a glimpse of a female leg, shiny black shoes, knee-length black dress.

  And he would recognise his nemesis.

  Chapter 76

  As Howard Green sat on the bench seat next to her, Toni looked away from him and out of the window. She remained silent as her Section Head followed him, folded down a bulkhead seat and pulled the door closed behind him.

  ‘Howard Green … meet Dave Batey,’ Toni said. ‘Dave is my boss, Howard.’

  The two men nodded in stony-faced acknowledgement.

  ‘Why the James Bond stuff?’ Howard asked.

  Toni sensed the anger in his tone. The taxi door next to her opened. Stuart leaned in and handed her a tiny SD card.

  It was Batey’s turn to speak. ‘I’m sure you are fully aware what we have just been videoing, Howard.’

  Toni produced the small laptop computer from the seat next to her and was in the process of inserting the SD card when Howard raised his hand.

  ‘I’m sure we don’t need to look at the screen to know what it will show, Toni. I just wish it had been you…’ Howard transfixed her with his gaze, a thin smile spreading across his lips.

  ‘Not a chance
,’ Toni replied, ‘and certainly not the way you seem to enjoy. We just need your help with some questions.’

  ‘How did you know to find me here?’

  ‘Let’s just say that you’re a creature of habit, Howard.’

  ‘You’ve been following me? Rather excessive if all you want is to learn why we’ve been searching the homes of dead cops for trophy weapons.’

  ‘Don’t be too smug, Howard.’ Batey continued. ‘I know that you copied Toni’s security pass before it was used by an operator who killed an IRA prisoner in Belmarsh. We know a lot, Howard. We just need to fill in a few pieces of the jigsaw, so let’s cut through the bullshit and make a start…’

  Howard scowled and shook his head. ‘Not me … and don’t get any ideas. I’m just a small pawn in a great big game. You know how it works … both of you.’

  Batey smiled. ‘That’s a pity Howard. Especially as I’m quite sure you wouldn’t want this evening’s recording made public. Just imagine the fuss should it be emailed to your wife, your friends, the newspapers, your workplace … Not to put you under any pressure, but that will take place in about five minutes if you decide not to cooperate. We’ll ruin you, both professionally and personally. And whilst you are trying to rescue your marriage we will have discovered your offshore bank accounts and the cash you’ve been putting away.’

  ‘Sod off, Batey. You wouldn’t bloody dare.’

  Dave Batey sat silently.

  ‘Fuck … you’re bloody serious,’ said Howard.

  ‘Couldn’t be more so, Howard. So … let’s start with the pass. You copied it?’

  Blackmailing a fellow security service officer didn’t sit comfortably with Toni, but Howard was an exception. By stealing her identity he knew he might be ruining her career; at worst, he could have risked her life. The answer as to how her security pass had been copied had come to her just as she had been finishing off the report breaking down her movements and contacts for the last six months. The only time it had been out of her control had been during that visit to see Howard Green at the MI6 building.

  Howard saw sense. Toni’s pass had been stolen, he soon admitted. And then he claimed it was simply because she was the liaison officer looking after the Monaghan enquiry; nothing personal. Anyone else visiting McGlinty would have aroused suspicion. He even attempted an apology. Toni just glared at him. She didn’t believe a word of it.

  ‘You warned me away from Chas Collins,’ she said.

  ‘For your own good. Collins has rattled some major cages with that bloody book. It was best you didn’t get involved.’

  ‘So when Robert Finlay turned up in Romania you weren’t best pleased, I presume?’ said Batey.

  ‘It was of little consequence,’ came the dismissive reply.

  ‘So Toni here had disobeyed you and you had no intention of doing anything about it?’

  Howard turned to face her. ‘That transgression would have been dealt with,’ he said, his face deadpan.

  ‘Some might suggest that using Toni’s pass at the prison would discredit her so badly that she would no longer be a problem … that presumes, of course, that her enquiries into Chas Collins were, in fact, causing a problem.’

  Howard twitched his lips slightly.

  ‘What it also tells us is that you were behind McGlinty’s death…’

  ‘…from food poisoning. He died of natural causes, I heard.’

  ‘Were you involved in it?’ Batey demanded.

  ‘Like I said … natural causes.’

  Batey just stared at Howard. From the look, Toni guessed that her boss was starting to thoroughly dislike the man. She decided it was time to move on to the murdered SAS soldiers.

  ‘What’s your connection to Operation Cyclone in Afghanistan, Howard?’ she asked.

  ‘You know I can’t speak about that kind of thing.’

  ‘I know you were there,’ she pressed. ‘I’ve seen pictures of you with the Increment team.’

  ‘Really? My, my … you have been doing your homework.’

  ‘Yes … so just fill in some gaps for me,’ said Toni, ignoring the attempt to goad her.

  ‘Like I said just now, the Cyclone book explains most of it.’

  ‘You’re Howard Graham, I guess?’

  ‘Howard Graham, Howard Green. We all had false names on that op. Yes, I was there. That’s where I met Bob Finlay. He was in the army then. Good soldier. That’s how I recognised him when he turned up at the Red Sea hotel.’

  ‘So, why the interest in him?’

  ‘In those days Finlay was a top operator. I was just being careful, making sure that him turning up really was a coincidence.’

  ‘You’re aware that I’m looking into the deaths of the ex-SAS soldiers that were killed recently?’

  ‘Yes, of course I know about it. You asked for authority to view some files, I recall.’

  ‘I think the deaths are all connected. The police conclusion is a vendetta conducted by one of the dead men, Nial Monaghan, but I’ve found another link … and the fact that ten out of the twelve men on the Increment team are dead.’

  ‘Do go on.’

  ‘What do you know about “Al Anfal”?’

  Howard took a deep breath and relaxed into his seat. ‘Well, at least I now know one thing,’ he said.

  ‘What is that?’ Toni asked.

  ‘It must have been you who typed those words into a public internet search engine, recently. So, let’s get back to how you found me this evening – set this up, I mean?’ Howard asked.

  Toni smiled as she recognised he was trying to veer off subject. ‘You’re a creature of habit, Howard. Keep coming back and, one day, somebody was bound to spot you.’

  ‘You followed me?’

  ‘You’ll never know. Now, shall we get back to the deaths of the ex-soldiers?’

  ‘It’s all in that book. The CIA ran a black op to supply the Mujahideen with weapons to fight the Soviet force occupying Afghanistan.’

  Toni smiled to herself. Her researcher had done well. She was about to repeat her question about ‘Al Anfal’ when Howard interrupted her.

  ‘Who else knows about “Al Anfal”?’ he asked.

  ‘Outside of this taxi, you mean?’ said Toni.

  ‘As a result of your digging.’

  ‘Just us two. We haven’t taken it upstairs yet, if that’s what you’re asking?’

  ‘OK … Well, you’d best keep it that way. I’ll tell you … for all the good it will do you, but I want some guarantees.’

  ‘That this evening will be forgotten?’ said Batey.

  ‘Exactly. I don’t for a minute believe your threats but the very existence of the recording you have causes me some discomfort. I would rather it didn’t exist.’

  ‘You have my word.’

  ‘The word of one spy to another?’

  ‘Possibly little better than that of a politician … but it’s the best you’re going to get, Howard.’

  Howard paused for several seconds. Toni guessed he was weighing up his options. His response suggested he had decided to trust them.

  ‘OK … I’ll spell it out for you. But, like I said, it’s a poisoned chalice. It’s like this: if you think Al Q’aeda are a major problem, think again. Al Q’aeda are the operational side of the threat. A bit like the IRA were in the seventies and eighties.’

  ‘Al Q’aeda didn’t exist in the days when those lads were in Afghan,’ Toni interrupted.

  Howard smiled. ‘Al Q’aeda started way before you and I were aware of it. What preceded it was “Al Anfal”.’

  ‘You’re saying it’s another terror group?’ asked Batey. ‘From what we’ve been able to deduce, “Al Anfal” seems to be some form of treasure, something valuable.’

  Howard laughed. ‘Oh, it’s valuable alright. But it’s knowledge of “Al Anfal”, not the thing itself that has value. No, “Al Anfal” isn’t a treasure, it’s … well … politics. To quote their doctrine, “I will cast terror into the hearts of those who disbel
ieve”. Al Anfal is the political wing of terror. It’s like Sinn Fein for Islam, only much bigger and highly secretive.’

  Howard’s story was incredible and he clearly knew his subject in great detail. Both Batey and Toni listened with a mixture of horror and fascination.

  Al Anfal, he revealed, dated back to medieval times, to ‘Sura Al-Anfal’, the ‘Spoils of War’, which, as he explained, was the eighth chapter of the Qur’an. The chapter detailed military tactics and operations, advocated a base in Afghan and trained its members in the means to spread fundamentalism throughout the world.

  Toni understood her error in assessing what ‘Al Anfal’ was. Her conclusion from the search engine explanation, that the wording meant ‘Spoils of War’, had been to assume that it was an item of value.

  Batey commented that it sounded like a template to spread Islam through the Arabic world and from there, to Europe, Asia and beyond. Howard confirmed the analysis and added that it was a philosophy based on centuries, not years.

  Howard related how a patrol of ex-SAS soldiers had stumbled across a document that outlined the Al Anfal plans on how to infiltrate political systems, generate sedition, fester unrest, overthrow governments and install Islamic law in countries across the world. Short-term targets included Iraq, Libya, Egypt, Yemen, Syria and even Saudi Arabia. Other states, such as Oman and Kenya, were also to be targeted. Long-term plans listed European countries, including the UK. The document had been handed to Howard, as MI6 field officer in Afghan. He had forwarded it to London, where it had been translated. The implications were huge and had been taken to the very highest levels. After a great deal of discussion, a decision had been made to use the knowledge gained from the document rather than try to stop the tide in its tracks. When Al Anfal moved people into political positions in the UK, they were monitored, compromised and then turned. Howard seemed proud as he described how MI6 was able to use Al Anfal agents against the organisation and slow the tide of progress.