by Avell Kro
shower,’ she said, rolling back to Archer. She ran her fingers through his chest hair, down to his
stomach, and down again.
He looked at her quizzically. ‘Really?’
‘Really.’
She was certainly determined to get the most out of the night, so he went with it and afterwards
they showered together, washing the sweat and sex off each other’s bodies. Becky stepped out of
the shower first and towelled herself dry in front of the mirror. She had a wide tattoo across her
lower back, some kind of scroll design. A small red rose adorned her left shoulder blade. Archer cut
the water and drew back the curtain, standing naked and wet as he watched her.
She looked at him in the reflection, unashamed of her nakedness. ‘I should be getting home,’ she
said.
He stepped out of the shower and stood behind her, pressing his body against hers. His hands
came around to cup her full breasts, his fingers lightly brushing her nipples.
She let out a small gasp. ‘That isn’t helping me get ready.’ She pressed back against him, feeling his
excitement.
‘Oh, I think it is.’ He continued what he was doing for a few moments and she responded by
reaching down and guiding him into her again.
It was nearly three when she finally left the hotel room, checking her watch again and cursing.
‘Somebody expecting you home?’ Archer asked lazily from the bed. She hadn’t mentioned anyone
else, but then he hadn’t bothered asking either; that was her business.
‘My sister’s lookin’ after the kids. She’ll kill me.’ Becky hurriedly closed her bag and leaned over the
bed for a last kiss, firm and hot. ‘Hope I see y’round, Kiwi boy. Don’t be a stranger now.’
She gave him that cheeky grin and opened the door, throwing a shaft of light into the room from
the hallway. Archer gave her a smile and a wave and she was gone. The room fell into darkness
again and he lay back on the wrecked bed, thinking of Tracy and Jazz and the other women of his
life.
It was a trail of broken hearts and unfulfilled promises and it wasn’t something he tended to linger
on. He rolled over and smiled as he thought of Becky and their brief time together. Sometimes the
beast within just had to be fed.
35
The NZ High Commission in Samoa was a yellow stone building on the main street of Apia, not far
from their accommodation at the famous Aggie Grey’s Hotel. It was home to the usual Government
embassy staffers, plus a Police liaison officer and a representative from the SIS.
Archer and Tracy had landed the previous night on a commercial flight, travelling as lovers on an
island getaway. He had tried to sleep but was constantly woken by her either giving him interesting
facts about the island nation or asking him questions about it. She had a guide book which was far
superior to his own limited knowledge. She was fascinated by the idea of fa’afafine’s and didn’t
quite get why he wasn’t.
They were met at Reception by the resident SIS officer, a small, flabby man in his late thirties with
thinning dark hair and a relaxed air. He shook hands and introduced himself as Jonty, before
escorting them into an office on the ground floor. The desk was scattered with papers and office
litter, and three dirty coffee mugs sat beside the keyboard.
Jonty shut the door behind them and produced a couple of bottles of water from a small fridge in
the corner.
‘You must be parched,’ he said, taking his seat behind the desk, ‘the humidity’s the killer here,
y’know.’
‘Cheers.’ Archer cracked his bottle and took a sip. ‘So, you’ve obviously been briefed to expect us?’
‘That’s right.’ Jonty nodded enthusiastically. ‘Not much happens here, y’know, so it’s always nice to
have visitors. It’s usually just the usual boring bits and pieces, y’know, maybe a bit of smuggling
and whatnot. Bit boring, really.’ He laughed suddenly, a short, nervous laugh as if he suddenly
realised he’d said too much. ‘Don’t repeat that, of course, I was just joking, y’know.’
‘Of course.’ Archer smiled, taking a liking to this little guy. ‘We should be here no more than a couple
of days, all going well.’
‘Great, great.’ Jonty nodded enthusiastically again. ‘How about dinner then? There’s a great little
place round by the wharf, fantastic crayfish, y’know?’
Archer felt Tracy’s eyes on him. ‘Love to mate,’ he said easily, ‘but it’s probably not the best idea,
given we’re not really here and everyone will know who you are.’
Jonty’s smile faltered, and Tracy stepped in to save him.
‘We don’t want to compromise you,’ she told him with a solemn look, ‘it’s more important that you
can stay detached from us while we’re here.’
Jonty nodded and seemed to perk up slightly as he saw the sense of what she’d said. ‘Too true,’ he
agreed, ‘don’t mind me getting ahead of myself.’
‘But if you’re ever back in Auckland. .’ Tracy smiled, and Archer saw the small man brighten again, making the natural assumption that Tracy would be there.
‘Of course, of course. Haven’t been back in a while..’
‘So,’ Archer interrupted, keen to get back to the point, ‘if we need you we’ll give you a bell. I’ve got
your mobile number. We’re down at Aggie’s, and we’ll let you know when we leave.’
‘Great, great stuff, y’know.’
‘In the meantime,’ Archer continued, his tone turning serious, ‘we need access to the black box.’
Jonty paused as he absorbed this, then nodded again. Archer figured he had probably never had
this request before. He knew they were there to follow up a lead on the yacht owner who could
potentially lead them to Yassar; he probably hadn’t realised how far that may need to go.
Jonty nodded again and went to an in-built cupboard behind his desk, set into an internal wall. He
unlocked it with a key, opened the door, and crouched to access a large safe on the floor. Once it
was open he stepped back again and gestured towards it with one hand, inviting them in.
‘It’s probably a bit light but it’s all yours,’ he said gravely, ‘take your time, y’know. I’ll just go and
get a coffee.’
He scooped up his three dirty mugs and left the office, closing the door again behind them.
Archer went to the safe and surveyed the contents. Every embassy around the world had a black
box, which was over and above the armaments they held as a matter of course for self defence. The
black box contained a number of items of use to agents, which were intended to be untraceable. It
was a way around having to rely on the diplomatic pouches in the case of emergency.
This one was sorely lacking. It constituted a small amount of electronic gear, which he ignored,
infrared binoculars, a couple of pistol cases, a box of demolitions gear, a box of ammunition, and a
rifle broken down into a padded case.
He removed the pistol cases and checked them. Matching Beretta 92Fs, civilian versions of the
standard US military-issue sidearm. 9mm with a 15 round magazine. He took the guns and the
spare magazines, and put the cases back in the safe.
The rifle case opened to show an Armalite AR-7, a 7 shot semi-automatic .22 which Archer had
used before. It was lightweight and reliable, the moving parts could be stowed in the butt stock,
&nb
sp; and it even floated. It had a 9x scope with it and a suppressor, plus a couple of spare magazines. He
took the weapon and replaced the case, then checked the ammo case.
Two boxes of 9mm for the pistols and a single box of sub-sonic .22 rounds were added to the pile.
Two black nylon Safariland holsters were joined by the infrared binos, then Archer closed the safe
and spun the dial. Tracy offered no input into the selections; munitions were his department. She
couldn’t miss his scowl, however.
She opened his daypack instead and held it while he loaded the equipment into it. They had just finished when Jonty returned, knocking first and announcing himself. Archer smiled to himself-the
man had an air of pronounced ‘spyishness’ about him.
‘Well, all done?’ he asked, putting his coffee mug down on his desk.
‘For what it is,’ Archer replied shortly. ‘I’ve got better supplies at home.’
Jonty flushed with the criticism but said nothing.
Archer shouldered the day pack. ‘We’ll be in touch within a couple of days and give you an update
of some sort.’ He extended his hand. ‘Thanks for your help, Jonty.’
They shook then Tracy did likewise, before Jonty escorted them back out to Reception.
‘Good to see you guys,’ he said loudly, for the benefit of the receptionist, ‘take care, y’know.’
‘Cheers mate.’
They left the High Commission and walked back towards the hotel.
‘He’s an excitable little chap,’ Tracy commented, a touch sarcastically Archer thought.
‘He is,’ he agreed, ‘but sincere. I get the feeling he’s the sort we could rely on if needed.’
Tracy didn’t reply and he took this to indicate disagreement. He was getting a little bit sick of the
condescending attitude, but bit his tongue. It wasn’t worth arguing about. The pitiful state of the
black box didn’t help. Typical NZ approach; number eight wire all over.
They reached the hotel and ordered lunch at the lobby cafe on the way through to their room,
promising to be back shortly.
Once in their room, Archer went to the bedroom and closed the curtains. He opened the bag and
tossed Tracy a pistol. She caught it with ease and looked at him questioningly.
‘This is yours,’ he told her brusquely, ‘get to know it and after lunch we’ll strip them down.’
He put a box of ammo and two magazines with one of the holsters on the table in front of her.
‘We’l load the magazines now so we’re ready, then have lunch.’
Just then they both heard a chirping coming from Tracy’s bag. She quickly dug out a cell phone
Archer hadn’t seen before and answered cheerfully. He saw her brow furrow into a frown.
‘Hel o. . hello, Ruth? It’s Emma, you called me?’
Archer had a feeling of impending doom in his gut and the expression on Tracy’s face told him she
felt it too. She stared at the phone for a moment then tossed it on the bed.
‘That’s strange…that was Ruth’s CHIS phone. There was someone there but they didn’t say
anything.’
‘Has it happened before?’
Tracy looked at him, perplexed. ‘Never.’ She grabbed her normal cell phone and dialled a number from memory.
In less than a minute she had relayed her concern to a col eague and requested a welfare check on
the informer. She put the phone away and came back to the table. She saw him glance at her
second phone with a raised eyebrow.
‘Handler phone,’ she said simply. ‘Only used for sources.’
Archer nodded and picked up a magazine.
They worked in silence, each thumbing rounds into their own magazines before loading the
weapons, holstering them, and stashing them behind the fridge. Archer watched her work, and
noted she appeared comfortable with the gun.
He left the Armalite disassembled and stashed it with its ammo under the seat of the sofa. They
cleaned their hands to remove the smell of gun oil, and returned to the cafe to find their lunch
waiting for them. It was simple chicken stir fry with noodles, heavy on the oil, and they ate it in
cane chairs, flicking through magazines in silence.
Archer went to the counter to order another drink, and as he did so he heard Tracy’s mobile buzz
behind him with an incoming text. He turned and watched her face fall as she read it. She looked
up as he sat back down, giving her a questioning look.
‘Bad news?’ he asked.
She nodded slowly. ‘Boyle’s escaped.’
Archer’s brow creased. ‘Casualties?’
‘Two contractors dead. Matthew managed to escape but obviously couldn’t stop him.’ Tracy let out
her breath slowly and put the phone away.
‘When?’
‘About four hours ago.’
Archer nodded. ‘Not good.’
Tracy opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by the ringing of her phone. She answered
abruptly and listened. As Archer watched her, her face went white. She put a hand to her forehead,
distress written all over her face. He knew what she was going to say before she disconnected the
call.
‘How?’ he asked. ‘And when?’
‘Drugs,’ Tracy whispered, her face ashen. ‘She was found on her lounge floor with a needle hanging
out her arm. The landlady rang the cops because her door was wide open.’
‘Your man?’ He didn’t want to use names out loud, so used the Irish slang instead.
Tracy pulled face. ‘Who knows. Early indication from the cops is it was likely to have been an accidental OD.’
‘Reasonable assumption, except for the recent events.’
‘The cops were there when the Special Branch guy did a drive-by. He rang straight back once he
knew what was going on.’
‘They know how long ago it happened?’
‘Didn’t say.’ Tracy shook her head in bewilderment. ‘I know what you’re thinking. I may’ve been
the last person she called.’
‘Well,’ Archer muttered, ‘that just changed things slightly.’
36
The rest of the afternoon was spent killing time.
Archer caught up with the news-the main story in the UK being the big shootout in Cornwall
between two opposing gangs. A number of guns had been recovered and one gangster was in
Police custody for interrogation.
There was no mention of the crashed helicopter and enquiries were continuing. Archer had to
give it to the spooks, they’d done a great job of keeping a lid on it so far.
Tracy got a couple of updates but nothing of any consequence until near dinner time, when her
base called to let her know that a man had been seen leaving Ruth’s flat an hour or so before the
landlady called the Police.
The description roughly matched Boyle, but could also have been half the rest of the local male
population. The Special Branch detective had confirmed that Ruth’s burn phone was missing from
the address. They were trying to track it but without luck so far. They knew that the phone had
been used to call Tracy but that seemed to be the only activity on it in the last day or so.
They eventually went for dinner at the place Jonty had mentioned, and ate in near silence. Archer
tried a couple of weak jokes to snap Tracy out of her slump, and failed miserably. He gave up and
ordered dessert coffees instead.
There was little news the next day and Tracy was getting agitated at the lack of updates. She finally
rang Livingstone and her manner verged on being b
rusque as she demanded an update. She
listened for a couple of minutes before disconnecting. Archer could see the tension ease slightly in
her face as she put the phone down.
‘They haven’t made any real progress,’ she explained, ‘but it’s looking more and more like just an
overdose. She was still on the gear, and she’d OD’d once before, a couple of years ago.’
‘What about the guy seen leaving?’ Archer enquired.
‘Haven’t tracked him down yet. It was probably a dealer, or a client.’
‘Or Boyle.’
‘Yeah, maybe….the timing doesn’t really work though.’
‘Why not?’
‘Wel , Matthew spoke to her about two hours before the landlady found her, so about an hour
before this guy was apparently seen leaving. He said she was fine then.’
Archer frowned. ‘How does that affect the timing though, if he rang her? How does he know what was going on at her place from the other end of the phone?’ He sounded irritated and Tracy looked
at him sharply. ‘I know you all think he’s a goddamn genius, but can he see through walls now too?’
It was her turn to scowl now. ‘He went to see her, okay? In person. And everything was fine.’
‘How does that mean Boyle didn’t come along afterwards and knock her off?’ he pressed.
Tracy’s lips pursed and he knew the argument was going nowhere.
‘Matthew is pretty well known to the Provos, okay? Part of the reason he moved to Six was his face
got known over the water. If Boyle was lurking around, scoping the place out, he would’ve seen
Matthew and he wouldn’t have gone near the place.’
He opened his mouth to reply and she held up a hand.
‘Just drop it, alright? It’s in hand.’
Archer shook his head in frustration and grabbed his towel, muttering that he was going for a
swim.
37
The villa was clearly illuminated through the infrared lenses of the Bushnell binoculars. Archer
took his time, methodically scanning the property section by section. What he saw was not good.
He slid back carefully into the slight depression where Tracy lay waiting, covering their rear. He
leaned close to her head, close enough to smell her. Her hair brushed his face as he whispered.
‘There’s an outside cordon of infrared beams, all the way around, about thirty metres in front of us.
