by Will Jordan
‘And she left you to die for your troubles,’ Frost added.
‘Since then she’s been on the run,’ Drake went on, ignoring her. ‘I never expected to see her again, but the other night she found me. She warned me about Carpenter, said he wasn’t a man to trust.’
‘How does she know him?’ McKnight asked, clearly intrigued.
‘She didn’t say,’ he admitted. ‘But if you read between the lines, I assume they worked together in covert operations. Remember that black hole in Carpenter’s service record in the late-eighties? You join the dots on this one.’
She frowned, deep in thought. ‘And there’s no chance she could have been lying to you?’
Drake paused, just for a moment, weighing up her words. He thought about Horizon, how they had saved his life yesterday. Could Anya have been wrong? Could she have misled him? Even if Carpenter himself was corrupt, the organisation he presided over might still be one of honest men.
‘No,’ he decided at last, going with his gut instinct. ‘She wouldn’t lie to me.’
‘What makes you so sure?’
‘She can see straight through lies,’ he explained. ‘She hates people who lie, so she won’t do it herself. It’s … dishonourable.’
‘Aw, a killer with a heart of gold,’ Frost remarked cynically. ‘Christ, Ryan, listen to yourself. You’re talking about a single unverified, undocumented source who might have a personal grudge against Carpenter. If we were journalists we couldn’t run a fucking local newspaper article with a lead like that, and you want us to start a covert investigation?’
McKnight chewed her lip and glanced over at the whiteboard, now covered in Drake’s hastily scrawled notes. In the centre of it all was a single word: Horizon.
‘At the very least we need to bring this Anya in, find out what else she can tell us.’
‘Yeah, good luck with that,’ Keegan scoffed.
‘That’s not how things work with her,’ Drake said, doing his best to explain the kind of person they were dealing with. ‘You don’t bring her anywhere, and you don’t find her unless she wants to be found. If she decides to speak with you, she’ll find a way to make it happen. Otherwise, forget it.’
Drake had already resolved not to mention the second meeting he was due to have with Anya tonight. Even if he could somehow convince his companions to let him do it his way, he knew someone would try to follow him. Anya trusted him – that was a trust he did not intend to betray.
‘Great,’ McKnight said, throwing up her hands. ‘So what do we do now?’
Despite all the conflicting elements at play here, Drake kept coming back to the same conclusion.
‘Horizon are the key to this,’ he decided. ‘They can lead us to what Carpenter wants to hide. But we have to do it from the inside.’
‘How, exactly?’ Keegan asked.
For this at least, Drake had an idea. ‘I know a man who can help us.’
Chapter 32
‘So let me get this straight,’ Cunningham said, glancing up from his cup of black coffee. ‘You want me to hack into my employers’ computer network, give out classified information, risk the safety of men I’ve worked with for years, my career and my life, all based on nothing more than your unproven theory?’
Getting the man to agree to meet them in a crowded coffee house in central Kabul had been easy enough. Persuading him to do what they needed was proving less so.
‘Pretty much,’ Drake replied.
At this, Cunningham actually laughed in amusement. ‘Ryan, if the CIA doesn’t pan out for you, you can always try your hand as a stand-up.’
Frost, however, was far from amused. ‘Your “employers” are a group of mercenaries who’ve been stealing weapons from the US military. You’ll pardon me if I don’t shed a tear for them.’
That was enough to wipe Cunningham’s smile away. ‘Put a lid on that kettle, mate. I don’t like the sound it’s making,’ he said, regarding the young woman with a cold glare.
‘Look, Matt, we wouldn’t ask you to do this if we didn’t have good reason,’ Drake said, jumping in before a more serious confrontation erupted.
As fair and even-handed as Cunningham had been during his days in the Regiment, he also had a temper that it was not wise to provoke. Drake had only seen him lose it a couple of times in the four years he’d known him, and that had been more than enough.
‘We’re not out to risk lives or sabotage the company,’ he went on. ‘If Horizon are genuinely innocent in this, fine. If we search their network and find nothing incriminating, so be it. But we need to be sure.’ Drake leaned in closer, looking his old friend in the eye. ‘I think you need to be sure, too.’
Cunningham said nothing for several seconds. Never an easy man to read, it was hard to tell what was going on behind those blue-grey eyes of his.
He reached out and lifted his cup of coffee to his lips, taking a slow drink. The drone of conversation in the crowded room filled the air around them, though Drake was oblivious to it.
‘If I’m caught doing this, I’m fucked,’ Cunningham said at last. ‘You know that.’
‘You won’t be. It’s a simple process, and I’m assured it’s untraceable.’
The older man chewed his lip. ‘So what’s involved?’
Drake let out a breath and glanced at Frost. ‘Keira …’
‘You need to find a logged-in machine that has hard-line access to the Horizon network,’ the young woman said, launching into her briefing with gusto. Reaching into her pocket, she laid a USB memory stick on the notched, stained table in front of her. ‘When you’re ready, plug this in, and when the prompt appears on-screen, hit enter to confirm. Wait about ten seconds for the software to download, then remove the stick and destroy it. That’s it – the program will do the rest.’
Cunningham eyed her dubiously. Like Drake, he was no computer expert, but neither was he a fool. ‘Aye? What’ll it do, exactly?’
‘It’ll open up a back door in the Horizon firewall that only I can access,’ she explained. ‘Nobody else will be able to exploit it, and in all other respects the system will still be secure. It’s even self-deleting, so once I’m finished, it’ll erase all trace of what I’ve done. Like it never happened.’
‘Just like that, eh?’
Drake couldn’t decide if he saw respect or contempt in Cunningham’s steely gaze, though he suspected the latter.
Either way, Frost didn’t seem concerned, instead meeting his gaze with a challenging stare of her own. ‘Just like that. Think you can handle it?’
‘We’ll see, won’t we?’ he replied, reaching for the stick.
He had just closed his fingers around it when Frost reached out and gripped his wrist. ‘Remember, hard-line access only. It won’t work any other way.’
‘I know.’
‘And on-site security is your problem,’ she added. ‘So don’t do something stupid like trying to install it right in front of a surveillance camera.’
Cunningham had heard enough. Exerting his considerable strength, he yanked his wrist from her grip and pocketed the memory stick.
‘I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that last part,’ he said. Draining the remainder of his coffee, he turned to Drake. ‘I’ll text you when it’s done.’
‘Thanks, mate. I appreciate this.’ Despite his assurances of anonymity, he knew the risk his friend was taking by agreeing to this.
‘Just do one thing for me, Ryan.’
‘What’s that?’
‘No matter how this pans out, not all of us are guilty just because of who we work for.’ Unfolding a pair of sunglasses hanging from his shirt, he slipped them on. ‘Keep that in mind, aye?’
‘I will,’ Drake promised.
Saying nothing further, Cunningham turned and strode away, soon lost amidst the thronging crowds on the street outside.
‘You think he’ll do it?’ Frost asked, watching him go.
Drake took a drink of the bottled water he’d ordered. ‘He’s ne
ver let me down before. I don’t think he’ll start now.’
He glanced at his watch. It was 1:47 p.m.
In a few hours, he would have to leave his companions to make his meeting with Anya. That was one meeting he didn’t intend to miss.
Chapter 33
‘So let’s make sure we’re clear on this. During the entire two-hundred-mile journey from Bagram to Salerno, you don’t remember anything unusual happening at all?’ McKnight asked dubiously.
On the other side of the interview table, Corporal Evan Cortez sat slumped in his chair, his burly forearms folded across his chest, his dark eyes glowering. ‘No, ma’am.’
‘No unscheduled stops? No breakdowns? No forced detours?’
‘Not that I recall.’
‘That’s hardly definitive, Corporal,’ McKnight said, trying hard to hold her impatience in check.
They had rounded up as many US Army personnel from that convoy as they could find in the time available. Four were out running other convoy routes, one was sick with dysentery and another had returned Stateside on compassionate leave, which left them with six men to interview.
And so far, none of them had been able to offer up any proof of wrongdoing on Horizon’s part. In fact, none of them seemed able to recall anything of value.
The young man shrugged, beginning to get pissed off with the endless questions that seemed to be leading nowhere. ‘I don’t know what you want me to say, ma’am. I haul dozens of these convoys every month, and after a while they all become kinda similar, know what I mean?’
‘Okay, that’ll be all, Corporal,’ Keegan decided, having been observing the interview from one corner of the room. ‘We’re done here.’
Cortez nodded to the sniper in gratitude. Rising from his chair, he spared McKnight only the briefest of glances. ‘Ma’am.’
There was little warmth in his dark eyes.
The investigation had stalled, and there was no getting around that. Despite their best efforts, they had been unable to find any more information on the Horizon operatives assigned to the convoy, the forensics teams had found nothing useful at Mitchell’s murder scene, and interviewing witnesses had achieved nothing except to waste a couple of hours of their limited time.
They were rapidly running out of both time and options – two factors that McKnight was now acutely aware of.
She only hoped Drake was having more luck.
Located in western Kabul, the Inter-Continental Hotel was one of the few secure, well-appointed hotels in the city, and as such was usually awash with journalists and foreign businessmen. It didn’t have the glitz and glamour of the more prestigious Serena Hotel, but they still took security seriously.
The building had been laid down in the late 1960s, and bore all the hallmarks of that distinctly uninspired period of architectural design. Big, square and imposing, it looked as much like a block of flats in the East End of London as a luxury hotel. It had been the only large hotel still operating in the city by the time of the 2001 invasion, and had therefore become a staging area for news crews from all over the world.
Things hadn’t changed much, Drake reflected as he and Frost made their way through the automatic glass doors and into the wide lobby area, their boots squeaking on the faux marble floor. Western men and women were gathered together on chairs and couches, sharing serious-looking conversations. Notepads, laptops and cellphones were everywhere, while waiters bustled back and forth with trays of coffee and bottled water.
‘You’re really spoiling me, Ryan,’ Frost remarked with a playful grin, taking in their plush surroundings like a kid in a sweet shop. ‘How come you never do stuff like this when we’re back in the States?’
‘Always had you figured for a cheap date,’ Drake replied as he made his way towards the elevators on the far side of the check-in desk, trying to look unobtrusive. People came and went all the time in places like this, but most journalists were alert for new faces.
He had booked them a room for the night, paying for it out of his own pocket to avoid drawing undue attention. In any case, he didn’t expect they would need it for more than a few hours. From what Frost had told him, it wouldn’t take her long to access Horizon’s servers once Cunningham had planted her Trojan program.
All she needed was Internet access and a secure place to work from. With metal detectors and security guards at the main entrance, the Inter-Continental seemed like their best bet.
A quick elevator ride brought them to the third floor, which was in the middle of being serviced by the looks of things. A plump middle-aged woman was busy dumping the contents of her laundry cart down a chute just opposite room 322. She didn’t even acknowledge them as they squeezed past.
As he’d expected from a place like this, their room was a plain, unspectacular affair. The owners must have had a real love affair with the colour green, he thought. The carpets, the bed, the chairs, the curtains, even the bedside lights were all a drab olive hue.
Still, colour schemes aside, everything looked clean and efficient. It was certainly more than enough for their needs.
Throwing open the curtains, Drake found himself confronted with a panoramic view of central Kabul. Situated on a hill overlooking the city, the InterContinental’s rooms provided views that were impressive to say the least.
Frost wasted no time unpacking her laptop. As the unit powered up, she reached for the room service brochure and began flicking through it.
‘No way,’ Drake said, snatching it from her grasp. ‘You’re here to work, not to stuff your face on my dollar.’
She couldn’t have weighed more than 110 pounds, yet the young woman had a voracious appetite that seemed to know no limits, especially when the food was free.
‘Screw you,’ she replied, pouting. ‘Consider this my hazard pay. You know I’m breaking at least a dozen federal laws for you, right?’
Drake looked at her for a long moment, then reluctantly handed the menu back. ‘Fine. But keep your mind on the job.’
That seemed to improve her mood. ‘Relax. As soon as your buddy Cunningham plants the Trojan, I’ll get in, find what we need and bug out. They won’t even know I was there.’
Drake wished he shared her sense of confidence. He didn’t doubt her abilities, but neither was he inclined to underestimate the people they were up against.
He glanced at his watch again. Almost time.
‘I have to go out for a while,’ he said, drawing the curtains once more. ‘My phone might be busy, so text me if you find anything.’
The young woman looked up from her laptop, frowning. ‘You’re leaving now?’
‘I need to speak to Franklin,’ he lied. ‘It should be morning in DC by now. He can keep Breckenridge off our backs for a while. And if we do find something on Horizon, we’ll need his help to bring them down.’
She didn’t look convinced. ‘Do you trust him?’
‘I don’t trust anyone,’ he said, one hand on the door. ‘Especially not you.’
Frost gave him the finger before resuming her work.
Chapter 34
CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia
It was 8:30 in the morning in Virginia, and already shaping up to be a warm humid day typical of early August. The light fog lingering over the Potomac had almost burned away, and the sun shone down from a cloudless blue sky.
Surrounded by all the trappings of power that came with the position of Deputy Director of the CIA, Marcus Cain sat with his feet up on his desk, cup of coffee in hand as he read over his daily briefing sheet.
He had been promoted to this position after the debacle in Iraq last year, successfully managing to distance himself from Special Activities Division, from Drake, and most importantly, from Anya. After more than a year without incident, it was almost possible to forget the whole thing.
Almost, but not quite.
His intercom buzzed. It was his private secretary; a brisk, efficient woman in her fifties, who had been with him for the better part of a deca
de and knew him about as well as anyone.
Laying his coffee aside, he hit the accept button. ‘Yeah, Carol?’
‘Sir, I have a call for you on line one,’ she informed him, her tone calm, composed, devoid of emotion.
It could have been his dry cleaner or the President of Russia on the phone; it made no difference to her. Serving with the Agency as long as she had, Carol had learned the fundamental rule of her job – that what happened behind these walls stayed behind them for ever.
‘It’s Mr Carpenter, sir. He was very insistent on speaking with you.’
Cain’s brows rose. He knew that name well enough. It had been some time since he’d spoken to the man, and truth be told he had no desire to do so now. But he also knew Carpenter wouldn’t have contacted him without good reason.
‘Put him through, Carol.’
‘Yes, sir. Transferring him now.’
The line buzzed once as the call was transferred, and Cain picked up his phone to take it.
‘Richard. It’s been a long time,’ he began. Not long enough, he didn’t add.
‘Yes, it has,’ Carpenter agreed. His voice sounded deeper and rougher than Cain remembered. Then again, choking on the dust and grit of Afghanistan twenty-four hours a day probably did that to a man. ‘I hear you’re moving up in the world these days, Marcus. Congratulations. When are you planning to run for President?’
His tone was heavy on sarcasm and light on sincerity.
‘I’m assuming you didn’t call to discuss my career plans?’ Cain said, eager to get to the point.
‘What? No time to shoot the breeze with an old friend?’ Carpenter taunted, chuckling to himself. ‘Well, I guess a man like you doesn’t have much time for friends these days.’
Cain suppressed a flash of annoyance. Carpenter had been a pain in the ass as long as he’d known him; an arrogant, self-serving opportunist willing to trample over anyone in his pursuit of glory. He had been relieved beyond words when the man finally took early retirement to start his own security firm.
