Plausible Deniability: The explosive Lex Harper novella

by Stephen Leather

  ‘You and me both,’ Harper said. He allowed them to lift his now unconscious crewman from his shoulders and then sank to his knees, letting relief wash over him. He drained the rest of his water in one gulp, but insisted on waiting until the injured crewman and the others had been ferried back to the Al Shaheen in relays, before climbing into the buggy himself. Without any further dramas, a short while later he was languishing in the VIP quarters of the yacht being rehydrated with the finest iced water money could buy.

  Laiya gave him a quizzical look. ‘All right?’

  He nodded. ‘It was a bit hairy for a while but it was a good learning curve. We dished out some dirt, we took some dirt, we got away with only a flesh wound and most importantly, nobody was left behind.’

  CHAPTER 10

  The Al Shaheen cleared the northern end of the Suez Canal that evening and set a course to the west. The propulsion jets drove the ship at a steady forty knots, but even at that speed it took thirty hours to reach Malta, 1500 miles away. The ship’s crew spent the time in transit from the Canal cleaning up the damage from the enemy action, most of which was superficial and required little more than a coat of paint.

  Meanwhile Lex had called a Council of War with Laiya, Saif and the Saudi black ops team to finalise the plans for the next phase of the operation. He had already noted a positive change in the Saudis. With their new-found confidence after their recent combat experiences, they were a different group to the guys who had been assembled at the start of the mission. Harper had mentioned this to Laiya. ‘They remind me of my days in the Paras,’ he said ‘because while the other regiments just marched, the Paras marched with a swagger because they knew they were the best. I get the same feeling from your guys now.’

  Maintaining the cover of being a billionaire’s party boat, the yacht was now once more rigged with flags from stem to stern, with music blaring and a light show on board at night. When the Al Shaheen’s captain brought the ship to anchor in the middle of Valletta’s Grand Harbour, he kept it well away from the jetties and he kept the landing stage raised to avoid unwanted visitors, but they were still inundated with uninvited would-be guests, heading out to the ship in small boats and water taxis and trying, without success, to blag their way on board. When any of the crew ventured ashore, they were mobbed by local traders and surrounded by women from Valletta’s notorious Gut - the red light district that had been catering to passing sailors since the heyday of the British Empire.

  The Al Shaheen’s tender was tied up alongside a jetty at the harbourside. It was crewed by a couple of very smart sailors, who were looking around curiously, trying to spot the passenger they were expecting - the member of Harper’s team flying in from the UK. They were intrigued to see what this new guy would look like, and how they might measure up against him. What they did not expect was the small nondescript-looking individual who emerged from the crowd of spectators, carrying an overnight bag and a computer carrier over his shoulders. The man wore gloves despite the heat of the day.

  Stepping clumsily aboard the tender, he nodded towards the yacht and said ‘Okay, let’s go, I’m the guy you’ve been waiting for.’

  Arriving on the bridge of the ship he was greeted warmly by Harper who, after a welcoming hug, introduced him to Laiya and Saif, as ever in close attendance. ‘Allow me to introduce my good friend Hansfree.’

  Laiya embarrassed herself by letting her surprise show when she shook hands with him and found that his hand was a rubber prosthetic.

  Hansfree just smiled ‘Don’t worry, it’s a surprise to everyone I meet. And do you know what’s even more surprising?’ He held up his other hand. ‘I’ve got another one just like it. An IED was the cause, in case you were wondering.’

  Within minutes of his arrival the yacht was being readied for sea and Hansfree was deep in conversation with Harper and Laiya, while simultaneously readying his computer for the coming action.

  ‘Right,’ Harper said. ‘We needed you here in advance, but we must also get the rest of the usual team to Belgrade ASAP.’

  ‘I gave Barry Big and Barry Whisper a heads up and they are both ready and waiting,’ Hansfree said, ‘but Maggie May won’t be available for this one, Lex. Her son isn’t well and she doesn’t want to leave him.’

  ‘So we’ll need a replacement for Maggie May on this op, and it’s probably best if it’s another woman.’ He thought for a moment. ‘I reckon we’ll go for Annie Laurie.’

  Harper had known Annie for just three years but he was impressed with her. Her father was an Intelligence Liaison Officer with the SAS in Northern Ireland. He was also an alcoholic and was killed in a road traffic accident when he drove off the road while returning, drunk, from a meeting with the RUC Special Branch. At the time Annie was still a young teenager, living in North-East Scotland, studying hard and determined to have a career in IT. However she had been devoted to her father, and as a result of his death, she made a swift mental career change. As soon as she was able, she left school and joined the Royal Air Force. Through that unusual route, by the time she was nineteen she had applied for and been successful in joining 14 Int. She did a decent stint with them but eventually got disillusioned and quit. She found work on the Circuit - the unofficial network of former Paras, Special Forces and 14 Int operatives that shares news of jobs in everything from security and body guarding to mercenary soldiering and other, even darker occupations.

  ‘Good call,’ said Hansfree. ‘She’s a pro.’

  The Al Shaheen’s course from Malta took it through the straits between the “heel” of Italy and Albania into the Adriatic, and eventually they anchored off Dubrovnik, a tourist honeypot where several other luxury yachts were already berthed.

  ‘We’ll use the on-board heli to transfer to the airport just outside Belgrade,’ Laiya said. ‘The heli is a Bell 525, so it has a large enough payload and enough speed to do the trip, overflying Bosnia-Herzegovina and Western Serbia in about an hour.’

  ‘Sounds good,’ Harper said, ‘but when we get to the airport and the hotel you will have to act a role. Can you play the part of a diva Princess?’

  ‘Play it? I know how to be a Princess - I am one - so I only need to play at being a diva.’ She paused and gave Harper a smile that raised his pulse a few notches. ‘Unless you think I’m already one of those too.’

  He glanced at Saif, who as usual was fingering the silken rope at his waist. ‘I’ve not seen any evidence of that so far, but I’ll be watching closely to see how natural the performance looks when we get to Belgrade.’

  She laughed. ’Then I must be sure not to disappoint you.’

  When they arrived at Belgrade airport in the ship’s helicopter, the Princess immediately began to cause chaos. They had brought dozens of Louis Vuitton suitcases and half a dozen steamer trunks with them and at once Laiya began imperiously ordering everyone about, while handing out lavish US dollar tips to anyone who could get close enough to grab one. Porters were sent scurrying left and right under the mountains of luggage, while she completely ignored the immigration officials and just kept saying in bad English ‘diplomatic’, and then showing a sheaf of papers covered in Arabic script. She repeated the performance with the customs officials, then marched straight out of the airport followed by her entourage of Saif, Harper, Hansfree and the Saudi black ops team.

  Not one of them had had their passport checked as they followed in her wake into the fleet of hired limousines awaiting them and sped away from the airport.

  ‘So far so good,’ Harper said as he settled back in his seat. ‘an absolutely convincing performance, Princess, you’re either a natural or you’ve been typecast! That’s got the weaponry and the operations kit through customs, a repeat performance at the hotel will see us in fine shape.’

  When they arrived at the five star Square Nine Hotel in the heart of the Old Town of Belgrade, there was no attempt to make a discreet arrival. Laiya was once more in her element, scattering hotel guests like chaff as she strode through the lo
bby, barking orders at any hotel staff who crossed her path, and dispensing tips left, right and centre. Their cover was that they were a Saudi delegation in Belgrade to discuss investment opportunities in Serbia, though in fact the only investment they would be discussing was the purchase of a tactical nuclear device from the Serbian mafiosi.

  Soon they were making themselves comfortable in the top floor suites of the hotel with the staff, already well lubricated with eye-watering tips, on full alert to provide any service asked of them in the hope of collecting further lavish rewards.

  The other members of Harper’s own support team - Barry Big, Barry Whisper and Annie Laurie - had already arrived and they met with him, Laiya and the rest of the team for a briefing in the Presidential Suite that Laiya had taken. Once Hansfree had swept the room for bugs - ‘Those old Soviet habits die hard,’ he said, as he removed a listening device from the overhead light and another from the room telephone, Harper introduced the surveillance team to Laiya and then briefed them.

  ‘There are three main areas of interest. One is obviously here, since the hotel where the Saudi delegation is staying will draw interested spectators of all sorts like flies round shit. The other two areas of interest are the airport and the as yet undecided hand-over point for the device. As you know it is easier to spot surveillance from the outside so I need to know from you who is in town, whether it is just Serbians, or any combination of Serbians, Russians and Iranians. We will be flying a Saudi C-130 into the airport to make a simulated delivery of the payment for the Tac Nuke. In reality there are already more than enough US dollars on board the Al Shaheen to pay any amount Laiya might be asked for, but it’ll be helpful to put on a bit of a show to flush out any watchers - and I expect there to be plenty of them. If you concentrate surveillance in the first instance on the hotel and the airport, any spare time you can find can then be spent on reconnaissance of a place for the hand-over. We are looking for a hollow in a quiet rural area, something shaped like an amphitheatre, where the buyers and sellers can meet away from prying eyes and outside interference.’

  ‘I’ll do a Google Earth search,’ said Hansfree. ‘I should be able to give them a steer.’

  Harper nodded. ‘When we get to the hand-over stage later on, it’s likely that we will need to set up a Rural OP. Any kit they need can be bought locally. A lot of the local shops will sell foldable saws, chicken wire and secateurs, but they may need a couple of square yards of camouflage netting each, which probably won’t be as easy to source locally. If we have any issues with that, we can bring it in from the Al Shaheen.’

  The surveillance team set to work at once and were soon relaying an almost constant stream of information back to Hansfree, who was running the comms and electronic surveillance from another suite at the hotel. Working under the cover story of being a British nanny looking for high-end clients, Annie Laurie was able to visit all of the top end hotels in the city several times. She tipped the concierge at each hotel a few dollars, asking him to keep an eye out for any guests who might have need of her services as a temporary nanny or babysitter. However, had anyone been watching her closely, they might have noticed that as she sat in the lobby sipping a coffee, her focus was not on any guests with children, but any bulky male figures who passed through.

  Barry Big had meanwhile reinvented himself as an air cargo executive, carrying out hangar surveys and touting for new business, which gave him ample excuse to spend his time in and around the airport. Barry Whisper was passing himself off as a holidaymaker, taking in the tourist sights around the city centre. They missed little or nothing that went on in their respective jurisdictions and before long Hansfree was handing Laiya and Harper a dossier of sightings.

  Annie Laurie said that ‘rough-looking types’, some with suspicious bulges under their armpits or in the waistband at the back of their trousers, under their jackets, had been visiting the Square Nine hotel. They had been drinking in the lobby and had also tried to blag or bribe their way up to the executive floors where the Saudi delegation was staying, though so far they had been unsuccessful. Barry Big reported that the airport area had been staked out by a ‘foreign-looking’ team using a couple of minibuses. Barry Whisper added that there were also ‘a few Middle Eastern types, possibly Iranians, floating around the city centre and watching the hotel.

  After discussing it with Laiya, Harper decided it was time to bring in the C-130 to flush out the various factions. Hansfree then started rumours in various internet chatrooms that a US military team was arriving in Belgrade to carry out the arrest of a Serbian war criminal who had been in hiding since the end of the Bosnian war over twenty years before. As a result Serbian reporters and TV news crews descended on the airport in droves, and when the military Hercules landed and taxied over to the General Aviation area there was a flurry of excitement, with reporters and cameramen sprinting to secure vantage points and then beginning to file reports about the mystery aircraft that were soon filling the Serbian airwaves.

  The Bell 525 helicopter, its engine running, was already parked on the apron, when the ramp of the C-130 opened and a squad of armed Saudi infantrymen descended and fanned out to surround the Herc and the helicopter. Another squad then came down the aircraft ramp, staggering under the apparent weight of a heavy timber box they carried from the cargo hold of the aircraft, placing it inside the 525. Immediately, the engines revved up, the rotors accelerated to a blur and within a few seconds the heli was flying south-west away from the airport. The Saudi soldiers climbed back aboard the Hercules and it lost no time in taking off and disappearing due east.

  The news crews hadn’t got quite the story they were expecting but they had something to show for their efforts and the coverage produced a reaction from the different factions. Hansfree intercepted a flurry of internet, phone and radio chatter, as the various teams reported to their bosses, and their increased activity around the Square Nine hotel, as they tried to establish what the Saudis were up to, enabled Harper’s surveillance team to make definite identifications of the nationality of the various factions.

  There were definitely three of them. The Middle Eastern types, 95 per cent certain to be Iranians, were staying in another upmarket hotel in the city centre, while the Serbian and Russian mafiosi were based in the same Gasthaus in the Old Town, just a couple of blocks from the Square Nine.

  Having established who they were facing, Harper told the surveillance team to head out of the city and locate a satisfactory site for the hand-over of the money and Tac Nuke, once Laiya had completed the deal.

  ‘We know what and who we are up against now,’ he said to Laiya, ‘so now we just need to dispense with the go-between you’ve been using - pay him off with whatever it takes to get rid of him - so that you can negotiate the final price direct with the Serbs. I can’t negotiate for you, because I don’t know what your final price is and also the sight of a non-Saudi facing them might make the Serbians smell a rat. But the sight of a Brit acting as bodyguard to a wealthy and powerful Saudi is not exactly unusual, so that’s the role I’ll be playing. You’ll have to do the deal yourself but I and the rest of your team will be right behind you, at your shoulder.’

  The meeting with the Serbs took place on the forecourt of what had once been a car-showroom but was now just another empty and derelict industrial building in a rust-belt district of the city. Harper’s team had had the place under observation since the previous day and while Laiya, Saif, Harper and four of her black ops team waited in the open to greet the Serbs when they arrived, Barry Big and the other eight Saudis were all watching from cover, ready to make an armed intervention if the meeting turned ugly. The Serbs rolled up in two black 4x4s with a two-man negotiating team flanked by six bodyguards, who were near-identical hulking figures, all equipped with mirrored sunglasses and scowling expressions.

  Harper could hear Barry Big’s voice in his earpiece. ‘They look just like nightclub bouncers.’

  Harper hid a smile. ‘They probably are, but no
t of any club that I’d want to be visiting.’

  While the Serb bodyguards and Laiya’s back-up team eyed each other suspiciously, their principals got down to the negotiations. The wrangling went on for over half an hour and Harper didn’t need to be able to overhear what they were saying to recognise that there was a big gap between what Laiya was offering and what the Serbs were demanding.

  ‘Bloody hell, there’s more hand-waving, head-shaking and finger-wagging than an Italian football team disputing a penalty,’ Barry Big said.

  ‘Careful BB,’ Harper muttered into his throat mic. ‘Your prejudices are showing.’

  At one point Laiya even shrugged and turned away as if about to walk off to her car, but the Serbs called her back and negotiations resumed. Eventually, after one last heated exchange, the Serb’s chief negotiator spread his hands wide and then nodded and shook Laiya’s hand.

  ‘Looks like job done,’ Harper said, ‘but let’s not relax our vigilance until the Serbs have cleared the area.’

  The rest waited until the black 4x4s had pulled out and driven off back towards the centre of Belgrade before emerging from cover.

  ‘Nice bit of brinkmanship there, Laiya,’ Harper said. ‘I thought at one point it was game over.’

  ‘So did I,’ she said, ‘but I held my nerve and in the end they gave in. They kept telling me the Iranians had promised to match any figure we offered, but I told them that the Iranians could promise whatever they liked but only we Saudis had the cash to make good on our promises. So we’ve agreed the deal and the hand-over of the Tac Nuke will take place in three days’ time at a site that we will specify to them.’