Arctic Firepath (Sean Quinlan Book 2)

by Dominic Conlon

  It had started so well. He had booked a table at L'Osteria in the beautiful square of Santa Marina. Her long dark hair was done up in a tight bun and she wore a simple black strapless dress. Sean admired the line of her bare shoulders. He could no longer spot where the bullet had nearly ended her life six months ago. Her recovery had been remarkable, and tonight her face glowed with health in the candle light.

  ‘You look elegant.’

  Natasha smiled, and raised her wineglass. ‘To us.’

  Sean lifted his glass. ‘To us’. He glanced at his mobile phone. ‘Just a minute.’

  Natasha waited patiently while Sean checked a text message. After a minute of silence she couldn’t help but say something. ‘Let me guess - an urgent call from the office. They want you tonight,’ she said with a clipped voice. ‘Don’t they know you’re on holiday?’

  ‘They know.’ Sean’s tone was subdued.

  ‘When do you have to go?’

  ‘There’s a flight first thing tomorrow.’

  Natasha’s face fell.

  ‘Until then, let’s celebrate.’

  For a moment she didn’t respond. ‘What about the rest of our holiday?’

  ‘You can still go and see your family, Nat. I’ll catch up with you later.’

  ‘But I only have a week. After that I’m at work. Surely they’ll let you stay for a few days?’

  Sean frowned. ‘I’m really sorry Nat.’

  Natasha turned away, saddened at how quickly the romantic atmosphere had been dispelled. She poked about inside her handbag and brought out a small case wrapped in gold paper.

  ‘You may find this useful then.’

  Sean unwrapped the paper revealing a jewel box. He opened the lid slowly. A gold pendant attached to a necklace lay on a grey cloth. Sean dangled the ornament from its chain, turning it in the light from the candle. Inside an oval frame was a figure walking with the aid of a staff, carrying a child on his shoulder.

  ‘It’s a man’s St. Christopher medal,’ she explained, seeing Sean’s curious expression. ‘It will keep you safe.’

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ he said quietly. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I realise you’re not the type of man to wear it around your neck’ continued Natasha lightly, her mood improving. ‘But you could always keep it in your pocket.’

  ‘I will, Nat. You’ve given me a gift, and now I have one for you.’

  Sean took out his own present and placed it in front of her. ‘Before you open it, I have a question which is sort of related.’

  Natasha looked up with surprise. She waited a second. When Sean didn’t continue, she inclined her head. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Will you marry me?’

  The question caught her unawares and she was unable to respond immediately. Then abruptly she pushed the unopened box towards him. ‘I’m sorry Sean. I don’t think you’re ready for this.’

  When it appeared Sean wasn’t going to speak, Natasha broke the silence.

  ‘I really wasn’t anticipating anything quite like this. I’m not saying no. It’s your job. When you go I worry you might not come back. They ring you at any hour, and wherever you are you say goodbye and leave. What sort of life would that be for me?’

  Sean sighed. ‘When I return to London I’ll resign.’

  ‘I’m glad, Sean. But are you sure you mean to leave? You’ve been there a long time.’

  ‘No, I’ve decided. I want to be with you.’

  ‘Maybe. But I imagine you’ll miss the excitement of another assignment or thrill of a chase.’

  ‘You’re more important. Besides, I’m ready to leave.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Recently I’ve begun to get the odd tremor.’ He held out his left hand to demonstrate. ‘Sometimes I get occasional twitches during a mission.’

  ‘I expect everyone gets that - particularly in your job.’

  ‘We all do. It’s quite common to develop jitters before a mission. But it never used happen once I’d started.’

  ‘Why do you think that is?’

  Sean hesitated. ‘I don’t know. Maybe I am getting too old, but I’m afraid they’ll find out. I’d rather go out under my own steam.’

  ‘I can’t say I’ll be sorry. What will you do?’

  Sean shrugged. ‘I’ve not thought that far ahead. I’ll have to give notice.’

  ‘How long will that take?’

  ‘I’m not sure Nat. Perhaps they will let me go after I finish this job.’

  ‘Would they allow you to go straight away?’

  Sean shook his head. ‘No, they’re not that kind of people.’

  ‘Please be careful. You know how much I worry.’

  ‘I promise I will. Sean turned the medal towards the candle light. ‘I have this to protect me.’

  The tea lady interrupted his thoughts. ‘Call for you dear, Mr Abbott says you may go in now.’

  Sean snapped back to the present. He pocketed the keepsake and strode to the exit.

  Director Abbott indicated the chair opposite his desk.

  Sean saw no point in pussy footing around. ‘What the hell happened?’

  Abbott had been in the post a year, and had grown hardened to agents with a beef. He shrugged. ‘We were listening on the police channels. Someone told them where to look.’

  ‘How could it be - no-one knew where I was going to take the shot. Damn, even I didn’t know until 12 hours beforehand.’

  Sean continued to prowl around the office. ‘And what happened before that?’

  Abbott raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Why did you stand me down at the last moment?’

  ‘We were told to.’

  ‘Told? By whom?’

  ‘Sean, for God’s sake, will you sit down? My neck’s killing me!’

  Sean tore his gaze away from the window and glanced round Abbott’s comfortable office. Reluctantly, he took the chair. ‘OK, let’s start at the beginning, at my briefing. You couldn’t wait to get me on the plane to Austria to slot Zlotnik. You didn’t even have time to assign an Executive to the mission. Why was it so important?’

  Abbott leaned back in his chair, appraising the man in front of him. Quinlan was a formidable force and he wouldn’t give up easily. Abbott decided to humour him, for now. ‘We’ve lost two agents in the last six months, and we think Zlotnik is behind the killings. We almost lost a third yesterday.’

  ‘Bloody hell. Did I know any of them?’

  ‘Did you know Johnson? He was killed six months ago, then Chandler was shot by a sniper two months ago.’

  Sean shook his head. ‘No, I never met them.’

  ‘You did know the third, though.’

  ‘Yeah? Who?’

  Abbott studied Sean. ‘You.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  Sean let the silence lengthen while he tried to work out what Abbott meant. How could he have been Zlotnik’s third target?

  ‘You don’t mean the police?’

  ‘No. Apparently, they made a cock-up.’ Abbott could almost sense the gears turning behind Sean’s impassive face.

  ‘Good job, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.’ Sean pulled a mug towards him and filled it from the thermos. The office coffee was the vilest stuff he had ever tasted, but he needed time to think. ‘So what do you mean?’

  ‘Did you notice anything unusual before the target arrived?’

  ‘No. Everything was quiet. I did catch a reflection from a window, or something on another building.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I checked it out of course, but I didn’t see anything.’

  ‘What did you do after?’

  ‘I moved position.’ He tasted the bitter coffee. ‘You suppose I caught the flicker from a scope?’

  ‘It’s possible. If that happened, you removed yourself from the line of fire. You were lucky.’

  Sean felt an odd sense of detachment. He struggled to recollect the moment he had seen the flash. It might have been nothing, but he hadn’t entirely dismissed the inciden
t. Instead, some instinct caused him to shift, putting the balustrade between him and the reflection.

  ‘If I was so lucky, I wouldn’t be working for you.’ A small smile around Sean’s lips robbed the remark of offence.

  ‘If I was as lucky, you wouldn’t be working for me.’ There was no matching smile.

  Sean looked up. ‘You asked for me.’

  ‘Yes I did.’ Abbott raised his hand, palm up. ‘I’m sorry, that was unnecessary. We were, ah.’ He paused.

  ‘Short staffed?’

  Abbott’s smile appeared more like a grimace. ‘We were caught short. There wasn’t enough time to recall anyone from further afield.’

  ‘I see.’ Sean poured out some more coffee. If the debrief lasted much longer he would have to find a loo. ‘So why are our agents being picked off?’

  Abbott sighed. ‘I wish I knew, but we have a good idea who is behind it.’

  ‘Zlotnik?’

  ‘Yes. The termination order was a highly unusual step, but we believed it was the only way to stop him.’

  ‘We?’

  Abbott silently indicated the office around him and by implication, the Section.

  ‘So why was the operation pulled at the last second?’

  Abbott sighed again. The man just wouldn’t leave it alone. ‘Oversight caught a whiff.’

  Sean nodded. Someone further up the chain had got cold feet after all.

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘Zlotnik? Gone back to Russia, I expect.’

  ‘What was he doing in Vienna?’

  ‘We understood he was there to inspect the security arrangements for the Earth Energy Summit.’

  ‘He doesn’t normally travel outside of Russia, does he?’

  ‘No.’

  Sean paused for a minute, thinking through the sequence of events. ‘So I was set up.’

  Abbott’s expression remained fixed.

  ‘You brought me in during the closing hours of an operation you had planned long before. No proper briefing, just told to go and finish him. You thought if things ran true to form, Zlotnik would bring in his own sniper to target me.’ He examined Abbott’s face for any trace of embarrassment. There was none.

  ‘Zlotnik was the bait. I’m guessing you had other people in position, hoping the sniper would give away his location. You’d then try to take him out.’

  Abbott waited.

  ‘Do you not know how I work?’ Sean’s voice rose a notch.

  ‘How you work?’ Abbott’s voice remained studiously calm.

  ‘I work alone.’

  ‘Yes, it's in your file.’

  ‘So you didn’t consider giving me the whole picture? That the place would be crawling with agents? Or I would be targeted by a Russian hit man?’

  Abbott lifted his shoulders, palms outstretched. ‘I did tell you to watch your back. There wasn’t time for anything else. In any case, you more than proved our confidence in your abilities.’

  ‘I could have bloody died out there.’ Sean rose, anger forcing him to move.

  ‘There’s a risk with every mission, Sean. One you accept every time you go out there.’

  ‘I need to work with people I can trust. When I agree to a job, it's because I reckon I have a chance of coming back. I don’t need you to stack the odds against me!’

  Abbott spoke softly. ‘Losing your nerve Sean?’

  ‘No.’

  For a fraction of a second, Sean wondered if Abbott had learnt about the tremors. But that was impossible, wasn’t it?

  Abbott waited, but when no answer was forthcoming he asked: ‘Could you elaborate?’

  Sean thought for a moment. He would have to let them know soon anyway. ‘I want to leave,’ he said simply.

  Abbott topped up their mugs. ‘Care to tell us why? Is it the work, conditions, pay...?’

  Sean shook his head. ‘This is hard for me. I’ve been here too long.’ He glanced around the room, recalling the various briefings he had had in here over the years. ‘I don’t want to outstay my welcome.’

  ‘That would never happen. You’ll always be wanted.’

  ‘Chris, you and I know an agent’s shelf-life is limited. What’s the average age of the current crop - 28, 30? I’ve lasted a long time, and I’m very grateful for everyone here who supported me on my missions. But I’m not immortal; I can’t keep going out and expect to return in one piece.’

  ‘So you are getting stage fright.’

  ‘It’s nothing do with that.’

  ‘Then?’

  ‘I want to settle down.’

  The PM rubbed his chin while staring off into the distance. The Earth Energy Summit in Vienna was only weeks away, and the recent defection of China from the group continued to dog the agenda. The door opened, and Howard Stern entered.

  ‘Morning, Howard.’ Prime Minister Terrance Ashdown took in the worried countenance of his Foreign Secretary. ‘Why so glum?’

  Stern slumped into the nearest armchair. ‘You remember a couple of weeks ago I mentioned the report on Russian energy production was imminent?’

  The Prime Minister nodded.

  ‘Well, it came out today.’ Stern slapped a file down on the PM’s desk. ‘And it makes terrible reading.’

  Ashdown regarded his colleague closely. He was not usually so gloomy about another country’s economic prospects, but Howard Stern had been around the block more than a few times. He was a consummate politician, and if he was worried, then the PM should be too.

  Ashdown sat back in his chair. ‘Tell me what you’re thinking’ he said, indicating the report.

  ‘It stinks. I warned you earlier the stats might be bad, but I didn’t think they would be this bad. This is the fourth consecutive year Russian oil revenues have fallen, and this time they’re disastrous.’

  ‘Why should we be worried? We’re developing new-found reserves in the North Sea, and now fracking has proved to be stable under the right conditions we will soon have enough to avoid being dependent on non-allied countries.’

  Howard Stern turned a world-weary eye on the PM. ‘Terrance, this isn’t about us. I know the UK will have enough to become self-sufficient eventually.’ He pointed to the file. ‘The reality is that now Russia hasn’t.’

  ‘I’m sorry; I’m not with you today.’ The PM appeared puzzled.

  Stern sighed in exasperation. This wasn’t the first time he had had to explain the concept to his boss. The fact that the PM had forgotten about the issue so quickly meant either he hadn’t understood in the first place, or he had understood and dismissed the problem. But Stern liked him because he was always prepared to listen to what people around him said, regardless of how critical they were. In the end he would consider all sides and decide. Not all his decisions were good though, and Stern was concerned this was a case in point.

  ‘You should be worried, Prime Minister. Over the last twenty years Russia has grown used to dominating the world stage from a position of wealth. From that wealth comes its power. Most of its affluence traditionally derives from oil and gas revenues, and it has used this to control its former socialist states. Its voice in the United Nations has grown in strength, especially in the Security Council.’ Howard Stern glanced at the PM. ‘You know all this to be true.’

  The PM nodded in agreement. ‘Go on.’

  ‘There is still a lot of corruption in the country, particularly in the energy sector. I know the President has made huge strides in tackling the problem, but nevertheless it still exists. Its pipe infrastructure is leaky. Fees for leakages are paltry. Companies pay the fees because it’s more expensive to fix the leaks. Whole areas in Siberia and the north are black with oil. Leaked oil is finding its way into Arctic seas, so pollution is another problem that will come back to bite them - and us.’ Stern opened the file on the desk. ‘That is the least of their problems.’ Stern gestured to a page in the report. ‘Oils wells are running dry, and many gas fields are coming to the end of their useful life.’

  ‘I still do
n’t see why this should matter to us.’

  ‘Look Terrance, I predict two things will happen.’ He ticked them off on his finger. ‘One. Russia will become like a bear with a sore head. Its position in the world is being undermined by wealthier countries out-performing it, not just in energy terms but also in high-tech industries. Russia is already losing face to its upstarts.’