Hunt for the Enemy (#3 Enemy)

by Rob Sinclair

  ‘You’re right,’ Fleming said. ‘But I’m not sure either of our lives have panned out quite the way we expected.’

  ‘Why did you do it?’ Logan asked.

  Fleming raised an eyebrow. Butler stopped mid-sip.

  ‘Why did you leave me out there to die?’

  Fleming held Logan’s stare for a good while without saying a word. Logan felt some clarity return to his hazy mind as he waited for the response. He wasn’t quite sure why he had asked the question or what he was expecting to gain from the answer. But he wanted to know.

  ‘I did what I was told to do,’ Fleming said.

  Logan frowned and shifted in his seat. ‘Who told you to do what?’

  ‘Your agency. The guy in charge there. He told me to haze you. To make you suffer. Said he needed to know you were tough. It was all part of your training.’

  Through the alcohol-fuelled blur, Logan could feel anger building in his head.

  ‘Mackie?’ Logan asked.

  ‘Yeah, that name rings a bell. He was your boss, right?’

  ‘Yeah. He was,’ Logan said. ‘He’s dead.’

  Fleming didn’t say anything to that. Logan sat contemplating what Fleming had said.

  ‘To be honest, it was an odd request,’ Fleming said and then he shrugged. ‘But hey, an order is an order, right?’

  ‘What? He told you to break my leg and leave me for dead?’ Logan fumed.

  ‘No, you brought that on yourself, you piece of shit,’ Butler said.

  Logan glared at Butler whose face was etched with anger, as though it was he who had been somehow wronged.

  ‘He’s right,’ Fleming said. ‘The hazing was one thing. And we were told to leave you out in the Highlands for you to find your own way back. They wanted to know you could handle that. On your own. That’s what you are. That’s what they wanted you to be. A lone wolf. But you attacked us. You broke Butler’s arm. What did you expect us to do?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. Call for help, maybe?’

  ‘Who said we didn’t?’

  ‘None came.’

  ‘Well, how do you explain the trackers finding you? You think they just happened to pass the exact spot you’d crawled to? Come on, do you believe that? Just because your boss chose not to fill you in on what really happened doesn’t mean it isn’t true.’

  Logan was raging now. Much of his emotion was directed at Fleming and Butler. They were talking about the event like it was nothing more than a mild inconvenience when Logan had very nearly lost his life.

  But Logan was also angered at the role Mackie might have played in the situation. Mackie, whom Logan had long clung to as the one person in his life he could fully trust, who really believed in him. Too many times recently Logan had been made to question whether his faith in his late boss had been misplaced. Not so long ago, he would have refuted Fleming’s claim outright, would have hammered him for even suggesting it. But not anymore. Why would Fleming lie? And his recounting had seemed genuine. With the amount of whisky he’d drunk, Logan didn’t think the man would have the capacity or the urge to concoct such a lie.

  It was just another example of how Logan had been manipulated by the JIA, been coaxed by them into performing for their ulterior benefit. And Mackie had been behind nearly every move Logan had made for the agency. It left a sour taste in his mouth that only in the aftermath of Mackie’s death was Logan finding out about the other side of a man he had looked upon like a father. There weren’t many happy memories in Logan’s head, but he’d always thought of Mackie with genuine fondness. Now those memories were becoming somewhat tainted.

  Butler began to snigger.

  ‘What the fuck are you laughing about?’ Logan spat.

  ‘I’m glad we did what we did to you,’ Butler responded, a wicked grin on his face. ‘You deserved it. You thought you were the dog’s bollocks, coming into our world like you did. We’d trained and fought for years to get to where we were. Why should we have even given you the time of day?’

  ‘You know nothing about who I am or what I am,’ Logan said. ‘You never did.’

  ‘We knew enough. You didn’t deserve to be with us. And that was as much as we needed to know. I’m glad about what we did to you. We all were. We enjoyed watching you squirm, watching you slowly realise that you weren’t the top dog you thought you were.’

  Logan clenched his fists tightly, trying to keep a lid on his anger. He had been right about one thing: the alcohol had certainly brought down Fleming’s and Butler’s walls. The problem was Logan wasn’t sure he could control himself with all of the wine sloshing about inside of him.

  He went to stand up, but his vision blurred for a couple of seconds and he had to put his hand on the sofa arm to keep himself from toppling over. As he stood, Butler too got out of his chair. Logan quickly realised the ex-soldier must have seen Logan getting to his feet as a challenge.

  ‘Now, now, boys,’ Fleming slurred.

  Logan had only been standing up to head to the toilet, but now that he was upright and face to face with Butler, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to pass up the opportunity. Both men stepped forward. Suddenly they were within touching distance, each sizing the other up. Both men snarled. Logan’s fuzzy mind was busy trying to prepare for an attack from Butler. Or should he just make the first move and be done with it?

  ‘You might have got the better of me when I was a naive kid, but don’t fool yourself, Butler. I’m not that kid anymore.’

  ‘Just try me,’ Butler said.

  ‘You’re not even worth it,’ Logan said, peeling away – and glowing inside for having had the strength of mind to do so when what he really wanted to do was floor Butler.

  But as he stepped away, toward the door, he sensed movement at his back. It wasn’t the first time Butler had tried to take Logan out from behind. That time, Butler had been successful, crashing a rock against Logan’s skull. But Logan hadn’t just been bragging. He really wasn’t the same person he had been back then. And when it came to moments like this, it was one of the few things he had to thank the JIA for.

  Logan spun around, ducking down as he did so and lifting up his forearm to block Butler’s wide, sweeping right hook. He balled his left fist and sent a crashing straight-arm strike onto Butler’s nose.

  Butler stepped back, wobbled and then fell to the floor, smacking his head off the armchair on the way. He wasn’t unconscious but after a few seconds it was clear he wouldn’t be getting up in a hurry.

  Logan looked over and saw Fleming’s face was entirely expressionless. He studied Logan and shrugged.

  ‘Well, I’m sure that’s not going to ease relations between you two much,’ Fleming said. ‘Let me speak to him in the morning. When we’re all a bit more with it.’

  Logan didn’t respond. He just turned and headed for the door.

  Chapter 25

  London, England

  Jay Lindegaard strode up to the door to Winter’s office and gave three loud knocks. After a few seconds, he heard the bolt being unlocked and the door opened.

  ‘Good morning,’ Winter said bluntly, before spinning around and heading back to his desk.

  Lindegaard gave a similarly unconvincing pleasantry and entered the room, then closed the door behind him.

  ‘So what’s the latest?’ Lindegaard growled. He walked over to the desk and sat down without waiting for an invitation.

  ‘We haven’t heard from Evans since last night,’ Winter said, his arms folded, his gaze stuck on Lindegaard. ‘There isn’t even any noise as to where he could have gone. And Nikolai Medvedev is dead, which I’m sure you’ve heard.’

  Lindegaard huffed. ‘So what are you doing about it?’

  ‘We’re trying to get information from some of our other sources, but so far no one’s talking. I’ve never seen anything like this – it’s like everyone’s just stopped doing business.’

  ‘Well, you’ve not really been around that long, have you?’ Lindegaard said. ‘It’s not the first t
ime I’ve seen the Russians close up shop like this.’

  ‘Well, if you’ve seen it before, what does it mean then?’

  ‘It means you need to find another way. And anyway, getting the FSB to talk isn’t the main priority. What you should be doing is figuring out a way to find Carl Logan.’

  ‘I know that. The Russians are saying he killed Medvedev. I don’t believe it.’

  ‘What? Because Logan’s such a nice guy?’

  ‘No, because I don’t see any reason for Logan to have stuck around Moscow. He’s on the run. The Russians are simply trying to put more heat on him. Which means two things: it’s unlikely Logan is working for the Russians – which is what we’d feared – and the Russians have no idea where he is.’

  ‘So what are you doing about it?’ Lindegaard said again.

  Winter shrugged and gave a nonplussed look. ‘I’ve got other feet on the ground in Russia, but at the moment, until we hear something reliable and tangible, or unless Logan contacts us directly, we’re stuck.’

  ‘I always thought you’d be a weak link,’ Lindegaard said, shaking his head. ‘I just couldn’t understand what Mackie saw in you.’

  Winter smacked a fist down on the table and sat forward in his seat. ‘I’m not entirely sure why you feel the need to constantly insult me,’ he shouted. ‘I don’t see you offering up any solutions.’

  ‘My job isn’t to offer you solutions, Winter,’ Lindegaard responded, only too happy to rise to the bait. ‘It’s to make sure you’re doing your job properly. And right now I’m not so sure you are.’

  The heated conversation paused for a few seconds and Lindegaard held the stare of the young commander. What he had said was true. He really didn’t care for Winter, didn’t rate him at all. But his dislike for him wasn’t just on a professional level but on a personal level too. That was one of the few faults that Lindegaard saw in himself: his inability to separate work from everything else. He should have been able to look beyond the personality differences between himself and Winter and find a way to work together. But he just couldn’t.

  Maybe it was because of the stunt that Winter and Mackie had pulled when Logan had been investigating the Modena kidnapping. Winter and Mackie had connived to have Lindegaard’s phone hacked. And the two of them had held high the dirt they had found against Lindegaard – that he’d sent a couple of gangbangers to teach Logan a lesson – ever since.

  But the power in the relationship had shifted considerably since then. Mackie was gone. For good. And Winter just wasn’t up to the game.

  ‘We’re under attack,’ Winter said. ‘It’s the only explanation. Whether by someone on the inside or outside, I think the JIA is under attack.’

  ‘That’s a bit dramatic, isn’t it?’

  ‘How many agents have we lost in just a few days? I know everyone is pinning this on Logan, but there’s more at play here.’

  ‘Wild theories will get you nowhere, Winter. We’re on the hunt for a madman. Whether or not Logan is working for the Russians, that’s what he is. It’s as simple as that.’

  ‘And we’re on the hunt for yet another agent who’s been taken hostage by the Russians,’ Winter retorted. ‘First they snatched Logan, and now I can only assume it’s the Russians who are responsible for Evans’s disappearance. I got a chance to speak to Evans a few hours before his meet with Medvedev.’

  ‘And?’ Lindegaard said, his interest in the conversation genuinely piqued for the first time.

  ‘And nothing. He was in good spirits. There were no problems. That’s the thing. It was a rushed meet, sure, but both before and after, and even with all the digging we’re now doing, there’s no suspicion that the Russians were onto Medvedev, or that they were planning to snatch Evans.’

  Lindegaard guffawed. ‘Were you expecting them to send you a letter first? How the hell did you think it would go down?’

  ‘That’s not what I meant. I meant, I had a lot of ears to the ground leading up to that meet and there was nothing untoward. No threat. Which means that either Medvedev was in on it and brought the FSB to take Evans, or the whole meet was a set-up designed to get both men.’

  ‘Well, I think the former is unlikely, given that Medvedev was shot dead. And the latter is pretty fucking obvious. Of course it was a set-up.’

  ‘If it’s so fucking obvious, then how about you tell me who set them up and why?’

  ‘It’s your job to find that out, not mine.’

  ‘What about the CIA?’ Winter said. ‘Is there anything they know that can help us? To locate Evans? To try to get him back? To find Logan and Grainger?’

  ‘I’m not here to discuss my role with the CIA,’ Lindegaard snapped. ‘What I do or don’t know about the CIA’s operations doesn’t come into this.’

  ‘It did when it involved bargaining for Logan’s release.’

  ‘Yes. Because at that point there was a shared interest. You knew what you needed to know.’

  ‘And there’s no shared interest now?’

  ‘I’m not saying there is or isn’t. What I’m saying is that either way you don’t need to know.’

  ‘Then I really don’t have anything more to add,’ Winter said. ‘If you’re going to have me work with my hands tied behind my back, then you’d better prepare to be disappointed.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Lindegaard said. ‘I’m already well prepared for whatever disappointment you can bring me.’

  Lindegaard got up off his seat and made for the door. He left the room without saying goodbye and strode down the corridor to the central bank of lifts.

  Despite his abruptness with Winter, he was actually pleasantly surprised by the meeting. Because it really did seem like Winter had no clue about what he should be doing – unless he was simply pleading ignorance, but Lindegaard didn’t believe that was the case.

  The fact was, Winter was well and truly in the dark, which was probably the best answer for everyone. When Logan had first gone on the run, Lindegaard had been hopeful that Winter may have been useful in helping to track him down. Lindegaard couldn’t afford for Logan to be out there running amok. As it was, it appeared Winter didn’t know his arse from his elbow – he didn’t even have a starting point.

  That was fine for Lindegaard. At least with Winter dithering aimlessly in the background, he wouldn’t be getting in the way. And he wasn’t a threat. For now.

  As Lindegaard descended in the lift to ground level, his phone began to buzz in his pocket. He took it out and looked at the caller ID. It said ‘unknown’ but Lindegaard had a good idea who it might be. He answered the call.

  ‘It’s done,’ said the voice on the other end.

  Lindegaard knew exactly what that meant.

  He was happy to hear of the progress, but a very small part of him, hidden somewhere in the recesses of his mind, was also saddened. He’d made a commitment to his dying sister to look after Lena Belenov. He had done so for many years to great effect, steadily steering her through life and guiding her into a job in which she had flourished and from which he had also reaped great rewards over the years.

  It was unfortunate that her being alive had no longer been viable and that his secret arrangement with her had so suddenly ended. But after the events in Moscow, which had seen Carl Logan escape from the grasp of both the FSB and the CIA, and the way in which Logan continued to evade all of his pursuers, her demise really was unavoidable. The risk was simply too great. She knew too much. And he had to expect that Logan might too.

  ‘Good,’ Lindegaard said. ‘Any complications?’

  ‘None at all.’

  ‘I’ve just been speaking to our good friend at the JIA,’ Lindegaard said, looking around as he exited the office building onto the street. It was quiet out but Lindegaard knew he still had to speak carefully.

  ‘And?’

  ‘And if he knows anything at all, he’s not giving it away,’ Lindegaard said.

  ‘I don’t see how he could know anything.’

  ‘Well, le
t’s not completely underestimate him just yet. One thing that did strike me is that he’s not too happy about how the Moscow rendezvous meeting went down.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘He’s been prying. Trying to find out from the other side what happened.’

  ‘What else would you expect him to do? One of his informants was killed and one of his agents captured. Of course he’s going to follow that up.’

  ‘I’m not a fucking idiot – I know that. Just try to keep close to who he’s speaking to and what they’re telling him. You said yourself it was a surprise that the Russians had outed Medvedev. Or maybe even that he’d given himself up. Someone in the FSB knows more than they’re telling. I want to find out who it is and what they know before Winter does.’

  ‘Understood. Let me see what I can do. Are you coming back here?’

  ‘Yes, I will do. I’ll let you know when.’

  The two said their goodbyes and Lindegaard put the phone back into his pocket. He hailed a cab and jumped in, telling the driver to head back to the Westside Hotel where he was staying, a mile or so from the office.

  The taxi had only just pulled away from the kerb when Lindegaard again felt buzzing in his pocket. A different pocket. Because the call was coming through not to the pay-as-you-go phone for which only one person had the number but to a different phone, his CIA phone.

  ‘Yes?’ he said as he answered the call, which from the ID he could tell was coming from the CIA’s headquarters in Langley.

  The voice on the other end was his assistant’s.

  ‘There’s a call for you. I was told it was urgent.’

  ‘Who is it?’ Lindegaard said.

  ‘I don’t know. He wouldn’t give his name.’

  ‘Then tell him to go away,’ he blasted.

  The last thing he needed was a distraction.

  ‘Usually, sir, I would. But I thought you might want to take this one.’

  ‘What the hell for?’ he snapped.

  ‘Because the caller said he knows where Angela Grainger is.’