by Jo Black
‘If that’s the case, what are we doing? We can’t stop the war. If The Agency, Six, all the administrations are behind it then short of sending this out to all the news agencies, which they will just deny, cover their tracks, and say it was Saddam’s, how do we stop this thing?’
‘We can’t. We don’t. What we can do is turn the smoking gun into a damp squib.’
‘What are you thinking?’
Zara shrugged. ‘Follow the trail. That’s the paperwork they set up to do the deals. All the transactions for whatever they bought will be in there, which means we can find where they shipped from, find where they shipped from then you find where they shipped to. Find where they shipped to then you can go and dig that shit up and get rid of it before they turn up with the CNN camera crew and show the world that Saddam’s been a bit of a naughty sort.’
‘You don’t stop this one, but you remove their credibility so they can’t take Iran or some other target off their axis of evil list.’
‘The greater good...’
‘I think I need another drink.’
‘You know what I can’t figure out?’ Zara asked.
‘What?’ Hunter replied.
‘Why the Kremlin burned Alex over this. Iraq, that whole rabble of sandpit dictators are all their customers. Why would they want Saddam gone and the Yanks cashing in the oil strikes?’
Hunter shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’ He looked at Nish.
‘Don’t look at me.’
‘You’re tight with the Ivans.’
‘Alex may be, I’m just a houseguest. Was a houseguest.’
‘Maybe the Russians had a hand in supply the materials. They’ve got enough dirty W.M.D shit laying around nobody would miss it. Their audit trails aren’t exactly golden,’ Hunter said. ‘But I don’t buy it. That’s not his style. There is no way the hard-line Soviet K.G.B guy would hand over more territory to the evil imperialist empire. No, there’s more to this than we’re seeing.’
‘There usually is,’ Zara said downing her champagne. ‘Maybe the answers are in there,’ she said nodding at the case.
‘You haven’t seen the dossier yet? Dufort said it was the same one you had. He sold it you.’
‘He didn’t sell it me,’ Zara said with a blank expression.’
‘He said he did.’
‘No. I don’t have the budget for that kind of thing in my department.’
‘How did you get it then?’
‘I thought you got it.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘It turned up on my desk at the embassy with a note saying it was delivered by someone from the U.S consulate. Your boys there never sent me shit so it must have come from you.’
‘No, it didn’t.’
‘Then who got it? The Frenchman said I bought it? Why would he say that?’ Zara asked with a frown.
‘I don’t know. And if I didn’t get it, and you didn’t get it. Then who the hell did?’ Hunter asked.
‘Well, the post boy at the embassy might know, but it’s a long way to go to find out, and I’m not sure either of us should be going near Pakistan right now. Someone is helping us. But who?’
‘I’ll try and find out. Would be nice to find we had at least one friend on our side. So where we going anyway? Nice jet by the way. You’ve certainly had an upgrade.’
‘Perks of marriage. Ibiza. We’re going to Ibiza.’
‘Great. I was hoping for a quiet period of rest and you’re taking me to the Balearic capital of partying.’
‘You don’t have to go clubbing.’ Zara shrugged.
‘You try and stop me. But I’ll take a bit of a nap now if it’s all the same with you.’
‘Be my guest. We should land in about three hours. You’ll be more comfortable on the sofa. I’ll get you a pillow and blanket.’ Hunter went over to the sofa and kicked his shoes off. Zara made him a small bed up on the long sofa at the back and turned the cabin lights down to a dim before returning and sitting down opposite Nish, kicking her shoes off and reclining her seat, Nish recharged their champagne glasses.
‘What do you make of it?’ Zara asked Nish softly as to not disturb Hunter.
‘What?’
‘The Russia situation. Do you think Alex knows what’s going on?’
‘No. He’d have told me if he knew. Zara, it’s probably nothing, I don’t want you worrying but...’
‘What.’
‘When Alex was on his way back from Mikhail’s. He was stopped. He thinks it was F.S.B.’
‘Is that a problem?’
‘Mikhail said he had 24 hours to leave before he was status revoked. But Russians being Russians, they’ll say anything to get a killer out the house so they can murder him on the street to avoid the blood staining the carpets.’
‘Is he in trouble?’
‘I haven’t heard anything since. I’m sure he’ll handle it. He knows how they operate. If something went down, he’d find a way to let me know. We’ll find out soon enough.’ Nish drank his champagne.
‘I’m sorry Nish. I’m sorry I dragged you all into this.’
Nish smiled. ‘It’s better than Chechnya.’
‘It was that bad?’
‘If there is a hell, that was it. Besides, where you are concerned there’d be no stopping the lad no matter what the consequences. That’s how we got here in the first place after all...’
‘You sacrificed a lot for him, and me.’ Zara took Nish’s hand and squeezed it. ‘Group Thirteen. Exiled from the homeland. Now exiled from your asylum. Dragons are supposed to be lucky, doesn’t seem to rub off does it?’
Nish smiled. ‘I’m partly responsible. When he left Hereford, I could have just let him go. I saw something in him, I wanted to use it, took him in and well, Alex has this ability to just, I don’t know...’ Nish smiled.
‘I know...’
‘Yes, yes you do. He got us both with that same enigmatic dragon’s charm.’
‘Do you regret it?’
Nish looked thoughtful. ‘Life with Alex has been an incredible adventure. I guess that’s what I wanted or I wouldn’t have joined The Regiment or then Group Thirteen. Alex took that to a whole new level. And he makes me feel like I’m part of something bigger, something really meaningful, not for Russia, or whatever shit-pot dictator we’re working for that week. You get the feeling you’re...’ Nish fell off and drew a deep breath.
‘Doing God’s work?’
‘Sounds clichéd, or like I’m pissed.’
‘Do you believe all that stuff?’
‘Religion?’ Nish asked.
‘Yes, no. All that Guild hokum pokum. He showed me his little lair. Can’t quite decide if it’s for real, Alex playing wizards and knights, he’s some sort of nipple showing freemason or it’s actually something meaningful.’
Nish looked deadly serious. ‘I can’t tell you. Alex doesn’t share the inner workings of the privy council of The Guild. For all I know it might just be an elaborately old fashioned board of directors. But what I can tell you, after he went away. When he came back. I’ve seen him do things Zara. Do things I’ve seen no soldier, not even the best Special Forces soldiers, can pull off. I’m not talking Batman jump off tall buildings in a single leap-’
‘That was Superman.’
‘Whatever. I’m taking tactical things. He’s got a brain that makes Sun Tzu look like a kid playing a computer game. He has this ability to see death. Like, he knows who will die, who won’t. Where the bullets will land. He dances through fire like he knows where every flame will be before it lands. Maybe he’s just one of those new age spiritualist types, or I don’t know. Maybe he went and got schooled in all that Bushido lark with Masato. But I just get this sense he’s something...’
‘Ethereal,’ Zara said.
Nish nodded. ‘Yeah. Ethereal. Like force of nature in a man’s body. There’s really no explanation for it,’ Nish said finishing his champagne and looking at it. ‘Too much of this maybe. Other than that...’
‘I’ve felt it too. I wish I knew what it was so I could understand it, understand him. But I think Alex has some secrets even he doesn’t know the answer to.’
‘Aye. Maybe not.’ Nish smiled briefly. ‘I know why you love him.’
‘He showed you his dick?’
Nish raised his eyebrows. ‘And I thought you were a good Catholic girl.’
‘Just thought you might have had a cuddle in my absence.’
‘Fuck off. I’ve got a pair of Latvian twins stashed for when I’m done.’
‘Dirty old bugger.’
‘Thank you. I do try.’
Zara stared out the window at the moonlit sky high above the clouds. ‘Where do we go from here Nish?’
‘Baghdad I expect. If you are dug into a hole, might as well keep digging.’ Nish picked up the briefcase and opened it. ‘The trouble we went through to get this, then get rid of it. It’s like a bad penny.’ He opened the dossier and started flicking through it. ‘What you looking for in here anyway?’
‘To convince Saddam the threat is genuine we need some evidence the W.M.D is in play.’
‘Are you sure that’s a good idea? He’s likely to say thanks for the tip, collect all the parts and do something awful with them.’
‘No. He doesn’t operate like that. Now he could have them he won’t want them. He got his arse kicked in G.W.1 and he knows he can’t fend off round two. They’ll have accounted for the risk and they’ll be making sure the stuff lands right about the time the first bombs are dropping on Baghdad for the live CNN broadcast.’
‘So you need proof the stuff exists?’
‘That’s just a bunch of printouts. It doesn’t mean anything unless it points at something.’
‘So what are these?’
‘The shell companies used to buy the components I assume. I traced the money from The Saudi Group, at least we thought it was The Saudi Group, but that was likely an Agency construct to hide the truth. They flow through a whole bunch of middlemen then end up at the arms dealers. What we don’t have is the shipping companies. We know who bought it, we know who sold it. We don’t know who moved it, or is moving it. Or what they actually bought.’
‘I’ve got a pretty good idea my dear,’ Nish said reading the list. He put the list down on the table and pointed at several entries. ‘These wire transfers to these companies. That’s the shipping company.’
‘Zara frowned. How do you know?’
‘Because I spent two years chasing the same intel to track down the owner of that shipping company.’
‘And who is it?’
‘Radic.’
‘The Serb war criminal?’
‘And these days, the international smuggler of contraband goods. Stolen luxury cars, drugs, human trafficking. And now it seems W.M.D bits and bobs.’
‘So where is he?’
‘Where I had Vincent put him after I caught up with him. Banged up awaiting his trial in The Hague.’
‘That could be a problem.’
‘Why?’
‘If he’s a smuggler, you know something about his operations. Those W.M.D bits could be anywhere. The only person who’ll have the records is Radic. And I assume he doesn’t keep them in a filing cabinet in a smart office where people might be able to find them.’
‘Yeah, that is a problem. The thing is, Radic and I aren’t exactly friends. He won’t co-operate, no matter what you offer him. And he won’t talk no matter how many holes I drill in him. It had to be him didn’t it? It just had to be him...’
55
Zara paced along the large pool terrace nervously. ‘You’ll wear the tiles out Zara,’ Nish said looking up from the pile of documents he was working through.
‘He should be back by now. Why haven’t we heard anything?’
‘He’s probably getting pissed with Uncle Pavlo. If he’s got started on the torpedo fuel then we’ll be lucky to see him back this week.’
‘No, something’s wrong. I can feel it.’
‘Take some advice. If you are going to avoid having a stress-induced heart attack you need to learn to trust Alex to take care of himself. This isn’t his first rodeo.’ Reluctantly Zara returned to sitting down on a lounger. ‘Have a drink. You’ll sleep better if you get drunk.’
‘I’d love to stay up all night for a vigil, but I’m still in remission so I need to be in my bed,’ Hunter said.
‘I’ll show you to the guest room.’
‘See you in the morning Nish.’
‘Aye, you too Hunter. Sweet dreams.’
Zara lead Hunter to the guest suit on the first floor. She got a pile of towels out of the cupboard and turned down the bed for him. ‘Is it warm enough for you in here? I can put the fire on.’
‘It is a little chilly,’ Hunter replied.
‘It warms up in the day,’ Zara said lighting the feature fireplace. ‘I got you some of Alex’s pyjamas. I assume they’ll fit. I’ll grab you some fresh clothes in the morning.’
‘Thanks Mom.’ Hunter collapsed on the bed. ‘This is an amazing home you have here. I’ll say one thing for the bloodthirsty maniac, he’s a good provider.’
‘You don’t know the half of it. The basement is a cross between the set of a Dan Brown novel and Batman.’
‘Boys and their toys.’
‘Hunter?’
‘What my dear?’
‘What do you know about the crusaders, all that Knights Templar malarkey?’
‘Only what I’ve read in the history books. Founded in Germany, mercenary army hired by the church to protect The Holy Lands from Saladin and the barbaric Islamic horde. St. John, The Spaniards, everyone sent their boys in at some point. I suppose they were the Navy SEALS, Green Berets and S.A.S of their day, but with more impressive beards.’
‘Do you think they still exist?’
‘They were persecuted to extinction by all accounts when they grew too powerful. Turned to beggars and thieves. Not sure there is much left of it now beyond the Walters dressing up in some chainmail and calling each other Sir Fucks-a-lot.’
‘You never came across anything credible, at The Agency?’
‘In what regard?’
‘The Mercenaries’ Guild.’
‘I heard a few things, didn’t pay it much attention. Seemed to be a European thing. America was a republic. We didn’t go in for all that Kingdom of God caper. The bible boys who came over the pond were all the Quakers and Lutherans who were mostly being bashed over the head and hung by all those boys with their holy cross shields, so I don’t imagine it ever took off in our lands. Why? What’s your interest?’
‘Nothing. Just seems to be a bit of a hobby of my husband’s. He’s got a book collection that would make the National Library cry with envy.’
‘Maybe he’s just a keen student of history.’
‘Seems to be a bit more of a passion than just a bit of bedtime reading.’
‘I only met your husband once, in Afghanistan. He was riding a horse as I recall. I mistook him for a local. Black Shemagh, dragon’s tooth serrated dagger, huge scythe of a Saracen sword. Riding on a jet-black Arabian stallion. Braided black velvet saddle. He had a Dragunov sniper rifle, which goes without saying really, but he scared the ever-living shit out of me.’
‘What happened?’
‘He came to our camp. Just me and a couple of Agency S.A.D boys plus our local guides. We’re sat round the campfire toasting marshmallows. He comes charging in with half a dozen tribal sorts on their horses. Completely surrounds us. Stared right at him. Stared right back. Gets off his horse. Walks over to the fire. What are you doing here? He asks in Arabic. Camping trip I said. He dropped the black Shemagh covering his face. He had a beard then. I thought they were going to slaughter us, that was usually how those things ended.’
‘So what happened?’
‘Nothing. He got back on his horse. He just said. Don’t camp here. It’s not safe. They’re coming for you. Puts his Shemagh back on, kicks his horse in the ass and takes o
ff like Zorro into the night. We packed up camp and moved up the hill. Sure enough a few hours later, an A.Q patrol turned up, sniffed about our campfire, took a look around then left.’
‘And that was it?’
‘Yeah. That was it.’
‘I never knew he could ride a horse.’
‘He can ride. I swear that stallion must have had mustard on its balls. Moved like the wind. I’m not surprised you married him.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘He’s probably the only man on earth who isn’t intimidated by you.’
‘I’m not scary!’ Zara said jabbing Hunter in the ribs.
‘Of course I’ve heard about his exploits, everyone has, at least the Chinese whispers version. So what do you make of it?’
‘What?’
‘All this Guild of the old Knights’ caper?’
‘I don’t know. Probably just a phase he’s going through. Did you ever meet anyone in our business that was normal? I suppose at least he’s not slaughtering lambs and virgins down there. He’s my husband, but the more I get to know him, the less I understand.’
‘Sounds like my first wife. Maybe that’s normal. Russians are quite strange around certain things, especially history and culture. I don’t think we’re meant to understand their minds. It’s why they are the world’s best chess players and mathematicians. I wouldn’t worry. In my experience Special Forces guys tend to have all sorts of weird ritualistic shit going on. I guess all that mind-fucking they do to build them makes them off the page when it comes to the rules of normal.’
‘Get some rest. Shout if you need anything.’
‘Bed bath?’
‘Only if by bed bath you mean chucking a bucket of water over you.’
‘In that case I’ll pass.’
