‘It’s best if Veronica explains.’
Thompson strode over to the glass door and opened it. Ellis had seen her approach and was already walking around to the front of her desk.
‘Something’s wrong, isn’t it?’
‘Sit down, please.’
‘I prefer to stand,’ Thompson said, her hands on her hips. ‘Where’s Andrew?’
‘Tagrilistan.’
Thompson walked unsteadily to the chair and flopped into it. ‘How the hell did he get there?’
‘We don’t know. Our focus right now is on getting him back.’
Ellis picked up a remote control and played the video that Cooper had sent up that morning, now dubbed in English.
‘What did Milenko say?’ Thompson asked. ‘Is he going to trade?’
‘We’re still waiting to hear,’ Ellis said. ‘I was told—’
Ellis’s mobile phone chirped, and after checking the caller ID, she put a hand up and pressed the Connect button.
Thompson watched on, ears straining to hear the incoming voice, but Ellis was already walking back to her side of the desk.
‘Okay, I understand,’ Ellis said. ‘What about a military response? My people have found three possible—’
Thompson was desperate to know what was being said. Ellis’s face didn’t exactly convey optimism, and seeing her cut off suggested it wasn’t an argument she was winning. A sense of dread began to overwhelm her.
Ellis listened a little longer, then snapped off the phone and threw it on the desk.
‘That was the home secretary. Milenko won’t trade,’ Ellis said. ‘He flat-out refuses to negotiate. The PM summoned the Russian ambassador to Downing Street and warned him of the consequences if anything happened to Andrew, but he just reiterated the usual line about Moscow having no control or interaction with the rebels.’
‘They’re arming them, for God’s sake! Everyone on the planet knows that!’
‘I realise that,’ Ellis said, ‘but that’s their stance and they’re not budging.’
‘So what about sending a team in to get Andrew back? Did he at least agree to that?’
‘Military intervention has been ruled out.’ Ellis sighed. ‘They fear Russia will respond by mounting a full invasion and things could quickly escalate into all-out war.’
Tears welled in Thompson’s eyes. ‘So we just let him die? Our government has abandoned him and we’re supposed to just sit and wait for confirmation of his death? Is that it?’
Ellis stared at her for a few moments, and Sarah spotted rare signs of anger creep onto the director general’s face.
‘The hell it is,’ Ellis said, and picked up her desk phone.
Chapter 14
22 January 2016
Richard Notley swiped his Oyster card against the terminal and took a seat at the rear of the bus. He dug out his phone and checked his emails, then went to the BBC News website to see what had been happening to the world while he’d toiled for eight hours at the office.
Fresh fighting in Tagrilistan stole the headlines, with another strike planned by the fire brigade over pay and pensions. He selected the politics section, where the latest figures showed that waiting-time targets for A&E had been missed for the seventh week running, and the prime minister was promising to throw another few million at the problem.
Too late for that, Notley thought. Too late for Marian.
His wife of twenty-four years had gone in for the simplest of routine operations, yet understaffing on the night shift had meant she hadn’t been monitored as often as she should have. No-one had noticed the internal bleeding until it was too late. He’d gone to visit her the next morning, only to find an empty bed and a very apologetic consultant.
Even as he thought back to that moment, he felt exactly the same pain as he’d done three years earlier. Like he’d been kicked in the chest by a horse.
Notley forced himself to take two deep breaths and stared out of the window, trying to dispel the memory of that terrible day, when he’d been stripped of his one true love. He turned his thoughts to the person responsible for Marian’s death, and pure, unadulterated hatred replaced the grief he’d felt moments earlier.
Marian’s death hadn’t been a case of error in her care, as the inquest had decided. She’d been snatched away because of the actions of one man, and he was soon going to pay the price.
Notley reached his semi-detached house just before seven in the evening. It was a commute he’d come to despise, one with little purpose any more, but he had to do it. The visit from the police shortly after the Brigandicuum revelation had been a wake-up call for him, and it was important that he stick to his usual routine, giving no-one cause for concern.
He slipped the key in the lock and opened the front door. The house was warm, the central-heating timer having kicked in an hour earlier. He took his lunch box through to the kitchen and rinsed it out ready for the next day. Then he stuck a ready meal in the microwave and made a cup of tea.
While lethal waves nuked his supper, he wandered around the house, looking for anything out of place. The windows hadn’t been opened, nor had the back door. The little telltale markers he’d put in place remained undisturbed. Just to be on the safe side, he went into the living room and woke his computer from sleep mode, then navigated to the surveillance app he’d installed. It recorded the feed from three hidden cameras dotted around the house, each activated by movement. He checked each folder, but apart from seeing himself leaving and returning, nothing else had been detected in the living room, hallway or upper landing.
Even if someone had been in the property, they would have found nothing here.
Not now.
His hard drive contained nothing incriminating, and that’s the way it had been since the news about Brigandicuum had broken a year earlier. The panic that had gripped him at the time remained fresh in his mind, and he still got butterflies every time the doorbell rang.
His initial plan, on hearing about the invasive surveillance system, had been to trash the computer and get a new one, but that would have been too convenient, not to mention suspicious. Upgrading to a new computer days after the revelation that everything he’d ever typed on his keypad had been monitored would have set noses twitching, but thankfully he knew enough about computers to get round the problem. It hadn’t taken long to buy an identical hard drive and clone his original drive, leaving out anything relating to his plan. The original drive had been smashed with a sledgehammer and dumped in the Thames, and he’d been forced to commit everything pertaining to the upcoming mission to memory.
By the time the knock came, months after the evidence had been destroyed, he’d had enough time to perfect his response to all of the questions he’d expected them to throw at him. They’d taken him in for questioning and confiscated his computer, but Notley had refused the offer of a lawyer. Instead, he’d answered their questions as calmly as he could, telling them he knew nothing about computers beyond sending email and surfing the Internet. When asked how Brigandicuum could have found those files on his computer, he told them he had no idea, suggesting that perhaps someone had been hopping on his Wi-Fi connection.
With no prior criminal record and no evidence to back up the Brigandicuum download, he’d been set free, though he knew that wouldn’t be the end of it. There had been times over the last few months when he’d felt as if he were being followed, and a couple of times he’d seen a suspicious black van parked near his home.
Notley retrieved the chicken curry from the microwave and took it through to the living room, where he turned on the television and found the BBC News channel. He stuck a piece of unappetising meat into his mouth and listened as the talking head introduced an expert on fraud who explained why so many pensioners were being conned into investing their pension pots in non-existent schemes.
A pension was the last thing on Richard Notley’s mind. He would have to live another fifteen years before being eligible for one, but if all went to plan, he would be joining Mar
ian a lot sooner than that.
Chapter 15
22 January 2016
Tom Gray watched his daughter pull a face and spit out the cereal. Milk and brightly coloured Lucky Charms dribbled down her chin and onto the highchair table.
‘That’s another brand crossed off the list.’ Gray sighed as he took the bowl away and cleaned up the mess. He hadn’t noticed too much of a difference between the food in Florida and that back in London, but it was obviously a big deal for Melissa.
He put a pan on to boil and eased a couple of eggs in, then made a few rounds of toast. He didn’t like to feed her eggs too often at such a young age, so made a mental note to get pancakes or waffles on their next shopping trip. Anything to add a bit of variety to her diet.
After three minutes of boiling, he removed the eggs and placed them in Peppa Pig egg cups, slicing off the tops and cutting the toast into little soldiers for her to dip into the runny yolk.
‘Tuck in, princess,’ he said, as she began eating contentedly. He had no issues with the American brands, but then Melissa had always been a fussy eater. She was, after all, the only human being he knew who couldn’t stand the taste of ketchup.
The doorbell rang and Gray rose, expecting another visit from his neighbours, the Wilburns. He could see platinum hair through the mottled glass and thought he’d guessed correctly, but when he opened the door with a practised smile, he found himself face-to-face with someone he’d never expected to see again.
The smile quickly disappeared. ‘Veronica?’
Ellis produced a smile of her own and looked over his shoulder. ‘Mind if I come in?’
Gray nodded, dumbfounded, and stepped aside, letting Ellis pull her wheeled hand luggage over the threshold. He noticed a black Chevy Suburban with tinted windows sat in the driveway. Obviously her ride.
‘Nice place you’ve got,’ Ellis said.
But Gray was still in shock at seeing her. The director of MI5 didn’t fly four thousand miles to pay a social visit. Something was deadly wrong.
Could it be Sonny or Smart? Had something happened to his two best friends?
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘You were always very direct, Tom. I don’t suppose there’s any chance of a coffee?’
Gray led her through to the kitchen, where Melissa had painted half of her face orange. Gray wiped her down and offered Ellis a seat, desperate to hear what she had to say, but at the same time dreading it. It would have taken her minutes to find his number and call, so he knew this wasn’t the kind of thing that could be done over the phone.
That could only mean bad news, and as the only people he had left in his life were his two close friends and daughter, he prepared for the worst.
He placed the cup in front of his visitor and took a seat opposite her. ‘Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here?’
Ellis helped herself to milk and sugar, blew the hot liquid and took a sip.
‘Hamad Farsi was hospitalised a few days ago,’ Ellis said. ‘It was a hit-and-run.’
Gray relaxed a little on hearing the news. He knew Hamad, but it wasn’t as if they were lifelong buddies. Sure, they’d worked together on a couple of missions, but that certainly wasn’t enough to get Ellis on a plane.
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Gray said. ‘I hope he’s okay.’
‘He’ll live.’ Ellis sipped her coffee again.
‘So how did it happen?’ Gray asked, waiting for the bombshell to be dropped.
‘He was trying to stop Andrew Harvey from being kidnapped.’
So there it was, the real reason for her turning up on his doorstep.
‘They were checking out a possible assassination attempt when things turned ugly,’ Ellis continued. ‘Andrew was taken prisoner and Hamad was trying to stop them when he was hit by their car.’
‘So someone has Andrew?’ Gray asked, still not quite understanding why he was being involved. This was a matter for the UK authorities, not a semi-retired security consultant. That aside, he felt genuinely concerned for the MI5 operative.
‘Yes, and we have four days until he’s executed.’
Gray noticed for the first time that this Ellis wasn’t the comfortable, confident woman he’d met a couple of times before. Her normally immaculate hair was a little unkempt, and her eyes told him that more than just a lack of sleep had taken its toll recently. She’d obviously taken Harvey’s kidnapping hard. Gray felt much the same.
His relationship with Harvey couldn’t have got off on a worse footing, with the MI5 operative trying to stop Gray’s attempts to highlight his perceived inequalities in the British justice system. A year later Harvey had turned saviour, orchestrating the rescue of Gray and his friends from a government-sanctioned hit man. The friendship had bloomed since then, but until today he’d considered Harvey part of his old life.
Tom Gray’s life.
He was now Tim Grayson, obscure engineer in a foreign land, trying to raise his daughter as best he could.
‘Did you check that James Farrar is still locked up?’ he asked.
Farrar had once run the government’s black-ops division, until his operation was shuttered after he targeted British citizens, Gray and his friends included. He’d then absconded and masterminded the recent devastating attacks on Britain. Once again, Gray had been the target. Not only him but Melissa too.
‘I check his prison record every single day. There’s no way he’s involved.’
‘Well, I hope you find Andrew,’ Gray said. ‘He’s a good man.’
‘That’s just the trouble. We already know where he is.’
Gray’s eyes furrowed. ‘And the reason you can’t go in and get him is . . .?’
‘Complicated.’
Ellis gave a full breakdown of events since Harvey had been picked up by the Russians, culminating in the video showing him held hostage in Tagrilistan.
‘Sadly, our government sees this trade deal as more important that Andrew’s life. They won’t do anything to jeopardise it, and that includes sending in a team to bring Andrew home. If they do, and word gets out that British troops are on the ground in Tagrilistan, President Milenko believes Russia will launch a full invasion.’
That didn’t leave many alternatives that Gray could imagine, making the reason for Ellis’s visit clearer by the second.
Gray stood and took his cup over to the sink. ‘I’m really sorry, Veronica, but you’ve had a wasted journey.’
‘You’re the only option I have left,’ Ellis pleaded. ‘I can’t just leave him to die.’
‘I know that,’ he said. ‘Trust me, I’ve been there. But what you’re talking about would need someone with recent military experience. I haven’t been into battle in years.’
‘What about Malundi?’
‘I got there about fifteen minutes before the end of the fight,’ Gray said, ‘and by that time it was barely even a skirmish. What you’re looking for is someone straight out of the regiment. If you like, I can get Len Smart to look around for a few people who fit the profile.’
‘This isn’t something I can put through the books,’ Ellis said. ‘I’ve been ordered to accept the fact that Andrew’s gone, so I’m out on a limb just being here. Whoever goes to get him will have to do it on their own dollar.’
That put a different spin on things entirely. Gray didn’t expect any of his contractors would be willing to drop what they were doing and take on a pro bono mission, especially if it meant going into one of the fiercest war zones around. If Andrew were someone they knew – a former colleague – that would be one thing. To ask anyone to risk their lives for a stranger was another matter entirely.
Gray returned to the table and sat down heavily. Ellis had obviously been through all the options, and coming to Florida must have been her last resort. She’d made it clear on previous meetings that she wasn’t Tom Gray’s biggest fan, but he was the only person she knew who had sufficient ties to Harvey and the funds to make it
work.
‘I can put up some of the money,’ Gray offered.
If any of his men were going to take on the job, they’d want more than the standard five hundred a day. It would take at least a dozen men, and he could probably get them down to ten grand each. Then there were weapons to consider, plus flights and other expenses.
It wasn’t going to be cheap.
‘Money isn’t the real issue,’ Ellis said. ‘I need the right people.’
‘As I said, I’ll get Len to pick the best men we’ve got.’
Ellis cradled her fingers and rested her chin on the knuckles. ‘I read your MOD jacket,’ she said. ‘Iraq, 1991. You led a team behind the lines to take out a communications unit hiding in a small town. What happened?’
Gray felt uncomfortable with the question. True, he’d been the squad leader at the time, and it had been his decision to abandon the mission. ‘We’d been told that there were no more than twenty enemy troops in the area. When we got there, it was more like a hundred. If we’d pressed ahead, we’d all be dead.’
‘So you pulled back and saved your men.’
Gray nodded. ‘It’s what any squad leader would have done. Where is this going?’
‘You walked away when you knew things were too risky. I can’t afford that to happen this time. Whoever goes in will have to have a personal stake in this. If you send a squad in and they don’t like the odds, there won’t be time to assemble another team.’
It was true. If one of his men had been held captive in that Iraqi town, he would have thought twice about pulling back. At the time, though, it had been an easy decision.
Ellis took out her phone and Gray watched her fingers dance across the screen.
‘I already have two men,’ she said. ‘They both know Andrew and jumped at the chance to take part in the rescue. I was hoping you’d lead them.’
Gray’s forehead furrowed. Andrew had been round to Gray’s house plenty of times, and Gray knew just about everything there was to know about him. He’d never mentioned close friends with military backgrounds.
‘Who are they?’
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