by Jack Gatland
‘As in Baker’s adviser? Didn’t realise he came from money.’
‘They all come from money, Declan,’ Kendis replied sadly. ‘Even the ones that claim that they don’t.’
Declan passed her back the burner phone. ‘Here, next time just call me on my normal one, yeah?’
‘It’s not that easy,’ Kendis replied as she wiped the phone down before placing it in her pocket.
‘Look, if this is about this morning—‘ Declan started, but stopped when Kendis raised her hand.
‘What, you mean when you snuck out of my bedroom like a sodding burglar?’ she asked. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. There’s more to life than you, Declan.’
‘I didn’t want to wake you,’ Declan continued. ‘I had the call about Monroe.’
‘I know,’ Kendis wearily leaned against a stone cross as she pulled out a cigarette, lighting it. ‘Just like I know that if you had spoken to me, we’d probably have had some talk about how we were moving too fast or similar.’
‘We are,’ Declan insisted. ‘Christ, Kendis. Have you even told Peter you want a divorce?’
‘I told you last night that I’d broached it with him,’ Kendis snapped. Declan frowned. He couldn’t remember the conversation.
How drunk had he been?
‘Look,’ Kendis was looking around the cemetery again as she spoke. ‘As great as it is to see you, this is bigger. I had something posted through my letterbox this morning.’ She pulled out a piece of paper, passing it to Declan. Opening it up, he read a sheet of Arabic writing.
‘I can’t read this.’
Kendis took it from him, glancing at it as she did so. ‘I can,’ she said. ‘I learned the lingo while abroad. I’m not fluent, but I know enough to see the gist of things. And Google Translate is amazing for filling in the gaps.’
‘And the gist here is?’
‘This is a letter telling me it’s time to see the Prophet, that it’s time to strike at the infidels.’
‘It’s a martyr’s call to action?’ Declan stepped back from Kendis. ‘Christ, are you really one of them?’
Declan saw Kendis’ face pale as he spoke.
‘How could you think that?’ she asked.
‘Monroe had your file on his screen when he was attacked,’ Declan explained. ‘It stated a whole load of things about you, mainly during your time in Syria.’ He paused, almost unable to continue. ‘It said that they radicalised you.’
‘What?’ This stunned Kendis. ‘And you believe that?’
‘Of course not!’ Declan snapped back. ‘But then you show me Arabic calls to martyrdom sent to you, while having a secret meeting in a graveyard!’
Kendis thought for a moment. And then, slowly, she nodded.
‘I can see that,’ she whispered. ‘But it’s not true. I’m in trouble, Declan. I bit off more than I can chew this time.’
‘Then let me help,’ Declan stepped forward. ‘Whatever it is.’
‘It’s political,’ Kendis replied. And that you’re here is help enough for the moment. Walk with me.’
They started down a smaller lane now, gravestones on either side of them as she continued.
‘It began when I was researching into Andy Mac,’ she explained. ‘I found out things about Charles Baker back then. And, when the Devington case ended I carried on digging.’
‘Why?’ Declan shook his head in confusion at this. ‘He was done. Finished.’
‘People like Charles Baker don’t just finish,’ Kendis continued. ‘He’s protected.’
‘How so?’
‘Have you ever heard of the Star Chamber?’ Kendis asked, stopping beside a gravestone.
‘I remember seeing a film about it,’ Declan admitted. ‘Something about people taking the law into their own hands.’
‘They started it during the reign of Henry VII, back in the fourteen hundreds,’ Kendis explained. ‘They named it after the room that they sat in, in the Palace of Westminster. It had stars on the ceiling, you see.’
‘Who sat?’
‘Two royal judges and two counsellors to the King,’ Kendis continued. ‘It was designed to administer justice to cases that couldn’t be heard publicly. Usually property matters, that sort of thing. But by the time Henry VIII took over, he left it to its own devices as he couldn’t be bothered to attend the meetings. It became autonomous to the crown, and by the reign of Charles I, it was actively used as a tool of royal oppression, finding rivals to the king and torturing them, silencing them, or simply making them disappear. It was officially disbanded in the sixteen hundreds.’
‘As great as this history lesson is, why am I being told about it?’ Declan asked.
‘Because unofficially, it never stopped. Removed from royal hands, it became a tool for Cromwell’s Parliament. Even when Charles II took the throne, nobody informed him of this. And so on.’
‘Until now?’
‘It’s never been busier than now,’ Kendis took a long drag on the cigarette. ‘It’s Parliament based, you see, and to keep things equal its membership of five are taken randomly from all parties. You stay on it for five years, or leave earlier if you lose your seat. The longest serving member becomes the grandmaster of the chamber, replaced by the next longest serving member on their exit and on and on. And once you’ve been a part of it and left, you can’t return.’
‘Let me guess,’ Declan said, considering this. ‘Charles Baker is on it.’
‘Came on after last year’s election, when the Lib Dem for Bishops Stortford lost his seat and opened up a spot,’ Kendis nodded. ‘It’s also the reason that, after effectively being moved from High Cabinet status and relegated to the back-benches, he still holds some Ministerial privileges.’
‘They’re too scared to piss him off,’ Declan mused. ‘That makes sense. But surely he can’t try for Prime Minister again?’
Kendis almost laughed. ‘I think he’s aiming higher. Prime Ministers come and go. Look how many we’ve had in the last decade outside of elections. And all of them end up with nothing. Chief Whips and Chair people have the power these days.’
She shrugged.
‘But then this is Baker. Who knows what he’ll decide next week.’
‘So Baker hates you for Andy Mac?’
‘More,’ Kendis said. ‘I started learning that Baker was connected to illegal arms trades, and that he was being paid for these through fake lectures, paid into a shell company, one of two that his wife, Donna, owned. Baker made almost five million dollars last year for three ‘talks’, each one a jolly on the taxpayer’s expense. When I started checking into this, though, I found another name I recognised. Rattlestone.’
‘The private security firm,’ Declan nodded. ‘I’m hearing their name a lot these days.’
‘You’ll be hearing it a lot more if Baker gets into power,’ Kendis admitted. ‘They’re not like the usual private security firms. Those are all filled with ex-squaddies and officers. The US ones are all Marines and ex-Delta Force. This one’s different. It comprises ex-Special Branch and Police Protection coppers, and spooks.’
‘Spooks? You mean MI5?’
‘I mean whoever they can get. Not just UK based. But the money Baker’s been making for these talks in one shell company is paid to him from Rattlestone’s one.’ She shook her head. ‘Not that they eat much of a loss doing that, as the contracts Rattlestone are going for are very lucrative.’
‘What kind?’
Kendis stamped out a cigarette and immediately lit up a second. ‘I was in the Balkans a few years ago,’ Kendis continued. ‘I saw a Peacekeeping convoy attacked by militants. Four soldiers died. After it happened, there were rumours that Baker was involved somehow, that his office, he was Under Defence Minister or something back then, that the office leaked the itinerary out. He’d given information on troop movement to make them look bad, to fail, and then when the contracts were re-tendered, looking to private security firms instead, Rattlestone gained it.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘I thought the same. But I looked into it. And as I did, it became clearer. I’m not a tinfoil hat wearing looney, Declan. This is serious. And they’re only just starting.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Ministry of Defence properties.’
Declan shook his head. ‘There’s already a police force that looks after those.’
‘Yeah, but think about it,’ Kendis insisted. ‘The Ministry of Defence police don’t have an outstanding record, and they’re classed as a separate entity to the Met. You guys even call them ‘Mod Plod’ when they’re not looking.’
Declan shrugged. ‘Still doesn’t explain the relevance here.’
‘Their contract is up for renewal this year,’ Kendis explained. ‘If Rattlestone have Whitehall backing, they can take the contract instead. It’s worth millions. Billions, even. Army bases. Nuclear power. Whitehall itself. They’d have power over the military. They could arrest whoever they wanted on Ministry Of Defence land. And that’s not including the arms contracts and the power they already have.’
Declan considered this.
‘Christ,’ he said. ‘If Baker controls these, and if he gains power, he’d have unlimited power. The Star Chamber could vote to do his bidding, Rattlestone could carry it out and nobody would know. He’d have his own secret police.’
‘Enough to lead his own coup if he wanted.’ Kendis took a drag from her cigarette. ‘Declan, he has the dominoes lined up already.’
‘He’s going to create a dictatorship and we have to stop him.’
5
The Great Dictator
Declan leaned back against a gravestone as he tried to take this all in. That a company like Rattlestone was making a power play was bad enough; that they had Baker’s backing, and possibly even that of the highest levels of London politics was frankly terrifying.
‘They know you’re looking into them, don’t they?’ he said.
‘How do you know that?’
‘Monroe. On his computer, the file I mentioned. It was frozen on the screen, but the first page was there. Your radicalisation, how you have a handler, everything.’ Declan raised a hand to stop Kendis replying. ‘I know it’s fake. But when I was coming here Billy sent me an analysis of the fonts used - I know, he needs to get out more, but he said that one of the three security firms that used these fonts was Rattlestone.’
‘So they’re starting a disinformation campaign,’ Kendis mused. ‘Figures.’
‘How did Baker, or whoever it is, learn that you knew this?’ Declan asked. ‘I’m guessing they did, and that’s why you’re being set up?’
‘I was an idiot,’ Kendis muttered into the remnants of her cigarette before tossing it aside. ‘I got to know Donna while investigating. I liked her. And, when I learned she was the signatory on Rattlestone, I knew she had to be a patsy. She didn’t have a clue what it was. Said that the requests to sign the shell company documents came from Baker’s office and was something boring and administrational.’
‘You told her everything, didn’t you?’ Declan sighed. ‘Jesus, Kendis! She would have gone straight to him with this!’
Kendis nodded. ‘I think she did,’ she replied. ‘But not in how you think. She was furious when I told her. Realised that she’d been duped, that if it came out, she’d be the one doing time. She’s the only name you can find on both boards, and you have to really know what you’re looking for to find it.’
‘And then she died,’ Declan mused.
‘No, then she was killed,’ Kendis replied. ‘Nobody believed it was suicide. Even my source said as much.’
‘I thought Donna was your source?’ Declan asked. Kendis shook her head.
‘There was someone else, another whistle blower,’ she replied. ‘They came to me after the suicide, spoke to me by WhatsApp messages and I only met them…’ she paused, as if realising that she was about to give away a terrible secret.
‘I only met them face to face for the first time last night.’
‘Last night? As in when we had our drink? Is that why you chose The Horse and Guard?’ Declan exclaimed. ‘Christ, Kendis, was I nothing but backup for a story?’
‘No!’ Kendis replied defensively, crossing her arms as she did so. ‘I was going there already, and then you sent that text, saying you wanted a drink! I thought it’d be easier!’ Her voice softened. ‘And I knew Pete wasn’t around, too.’
There was a silence.
‘Did I see them?’ Declan asked. ‘The source?’
Kendis shook her head.
‘I don’t think so,’ she replied. ‘They were in a different part of the bar, and all we did was work out a code for meeting up in the future. Can we move on?’
‘It’s your story,’ Declan muttered.
Kendis nodded. ‘So, Donna had charity work that was important to her, and she knew that if any of this came out, she’d lose it all. She told me she was going to confront Baker about it, or at least check into this with his lackey.’
‘Will Harrison.’
‘Yeah. I told her not to, to wait instead, but she didn’t listen.’ Kendis sat down on the base of the stone cross, as if too weary to stand anymore.
‘A day or two later, the news came out that she’d committed suicide,’ she breathed, close to tears. ‘She confronted Baker and then she died.’
‘You don’t know that’s what happened.’
‘Don’t I?’ Kendis looked up. ‘I’m shooting in the dark, Dec. Donna could have helped me blow it all up, but she’s gone. The day after it was announced that she’d died, the source appeared, wanting vengeance for the death. Said there’s one voice behind Rattlestone, and hinted strongly that it was Baker. But this contradicted what Donna had said before she died.’
‘What did she say?’ Declan looked around the cemetery now, feeling as if he was being watched.
‘When she talked about Rattlestone, she’d told me that all she knew was that Baker had come in after it was created, and the genuine power was some unknown guy in the shadows who named it with a bombing and some scrabble letters.’
‘A bombing?’
‘Yeah.’
‘And what do you mean, Scrabble?’ Declan asked. Kendis shrugged.
‘That’s it,’ she said. ’Simply that half a day, a bomb and a pack of scrabble letters would give me the truth behind Rattlestone.’
Declan stood silently for a moment, staring silently at Kendis.
‘Anagrams,’ he said.
‘Of course it’s bloody anagrams,’ Kendis snapped. ‘I’m an award-winning journalist and investigative reporter. I don’t need the mighty detective brain of Declan Walsh to point out the bleeding obvious. Rattlestone’s not even a proper word.’
She stopped, rubbing at her temples.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Anagrams are good and all that, but when you don’t even know what you’re looking for, every word made could be the correct one.’
‘So we go through every word,’ Declan smiled.
And then, whipping around, he called out to a tree fifteen feet behind him.
‘You can come out now,’ he shouted.
Slowly, and a little nervously, a slim young Indian emerged from behind the tree. He wore a denim jacket and black jeans over a graphic design band tee shirt, and over his shoulder was a canvas camera bag.
‘Declan, wait,’ Kendis rose from the base. ‘He’s with me.’
‘He’s with you?’ Declan looked back. “How many others are at this secret meeting?’
The Indian man reluctantly walked over, nodding to Declan. ‘Wasn’t my idea, I promise you,’ he said, holding out a hand. ‘Nasir Gill. I work with Kendis. I’m a photographer.’
Declan shook Nasir’s hand. ‘Declan,’ he said. Nasir laughed.
‘Oh, I know who you are,’ he said. ‘If she’s not going on about you, I just have to watch the news. You’re either breaking up gangs, destroying politicians, or punching out priests.’
Declan couldn’t help it. He laughed at this
.
‘I like him,’ he said to Kendis. ‘Now how about explaining why he’s been stalking me?’
‘I needed to make sure you were alone,’ Kendis admitted. ‘Nasir was part of the team that helped me with Donna. He’s been watching Rattlestone for months.’
‘That aside, why on earth would you think that I’d bring anyone with me?’ Declan replied. ‘You think I want people to know that I’m playing spies with you?’
‘We’re not playing anything,’ Kendis snapped.
Declan showed the baseball cap. ‘Really? Because so far, I’ve used a costume and a burner phone. If I don’t go home with some kind of a cool watch that fires lasers, I’m going to be massively pissed off.’
‘Insurance,’ Kendis replied. ‘I don’t need the police involved, Declan. You need to find out who’s attacking your own, anyway. But I’ve found out where the bodies are buried. I’ll gain some information tonight that’ll give me what I need to destroy Baker once and for all. Proof that he killed Donna, sold arms, sacrificed soldiers in the Balkans, everything. It won’t end Rattlestone, but it’ll be enough to ensure he’ll go to prison, and have no power in Whitehall again. But I have to do it by myself, and it’s helpful to know that if people move against me, someone like you is looking out for it.’
‘Don’t be an idiot!’ Declan hissed. ‘You can’t take on someone like Baker on your own! Let me help!’
‘You can’t,’ Kendis was sad now as she spoke. ‘They’re watching you. They already know your weak spots. Look at Monroe. You help me, they won’t hurt you. They’ll move higher. Maybe even get to you through Jess.’
Declan relaxed his grip. He knew Kendis was right.
‘But I’m police,’ he feebly protested. Kendis smiled.
‘And you will be, once I get this out there,’ she said. ‘Next week, if all goes well, it’ll go live. By then you’ll have what you need to take down Baker and the buggers behind Rattlestone.’
‘But what about this terrorist nonsense?’ Declan asked. Kendis shrugged.
‘Noise, nothing more than proof that they can get to me. Rattlestone want to scare me off, to get me to back down.’
