Wicked Game

by Matt Johnson

  ‘Check.’ Parratt nodded.

  ‘Two dead, one very much alive and kicking. Next thing we know a small team of what looks like Special Forces tries a hit on the men we think are responsible.’

  ‘Two dead in London … maybe a third if you count the bomb in India?’

  ‘OK, but you follow my thoughts?’ said Grahamslaw.

  ‘I do, and like I said, the Alma house thing looked more like a snatch than a hit.’

  ‘OK, bear with me. Question: Who tipped the wink to the hit team?’

  ‘Presumably the same source that gave Finlay the photo.’

  Grahamslaw smiled. ‘Exactly. Brain storming always works with you, Mick. That’s just what I thought. What we’ve got here is former Special Forces looking after their own. And who relocates Special Forces men when they retire?’

  ‘The ROSE office, of course. So, what you’re suggesting is that someone in the MI5 ROSE office is running a black op?’

  ‘Damn right I am.’

  Grahamslaw stood, folded his arms and walked to his window. The roofs of central London were laid out below him. In the street, the traffic flowed as slowly and as steadily as ever. Every so often, the familiar red oblong of a Routemaster bus added colour to the overwhelming sense of grey. Glancing skywards, he noticed a helicopter passing overhead, and, above it, a plane making its way towards Heathrow. Even the sky was grey. In many ways, and to many people, it was an ordinary dull day in the capital.

  He turned, his chin on his hand. ‘Let me run this past you, Mick. Somebody in Special Branch or MI5 has got egg on his face with those files being nicked. He’s put about a story about them being stolen from Castlederg. That same someone wants those files back before too much damage is done. Then what happens? Ex-SAS blokes start getting killed. You with me?’

  ‘You mean that there actually are missing files and that they contain the names of ex-SAS men?’ said Parratt.

  ‘You’ve got it. Add to that another ex-SAS soldier who we think is trying to abduct a terrorist and you’re starting to get the picture.’ Grahamslaw’s mind was racing faster than he could talk. ‘So, now we’ve got an Arab running round London with a list of people he wants to kill.’

  ‘And Finlay is trying to stop him.’

  ‘Can’t say I blame him,’ said Grahamslaw. ‘Finlay’s been a target twice. For him it’s probably kill or be killed.’

  ‘But why aren’t MI5 doing the job properly, using their own men?’

  ‘Like I said, maybe someone’s fucked up and is trying to sort it out quietly. Or maybe Finlay is an MI5 man. None of us really know how MI5 work; maybe they have people like Finlay waiting to be called up when the need arises?’ Grahamslaw slammed his fist on the table as the picture began to come together.

  ‘So, let me ask again: what do you want to do about Finlay?’ asked Parratt.

  ‘I want to let him run. See what he leads us to.’

  Parratt scowled. ‘Villains are villains guv, inside or outside the job.’

  ‘Easy, Mick, easy. As I said, we’d be hard pushed to prove anything. No, for the moment I want to find out who Finlay’s mate is, then we decide. At the end of the day, we’ve got two for the Selfridges bombing and, if I’m right, the Kalashnikov we found in the flat with McGlinty will be the weapon used to kill Skinner, so we’ll have that on him as well.’

  ‘And if Finlay and his mate go after the Arab or Costello?’

  ‘Then we make sure they lead us to whichever one it is. And we make sure that we get to him first.’

  Chapter 64

  I met Kevin in a cool, bright and misty Regent’s Park at six a.m.

  Monaghan wasn’t due for half an hour. The wait gave us a chance to discuss what he had learned at Hereford.

  Kevin had news – some disturbing, some highly surprising. He’d met up with Tom Cochran, the regimental quartermaster. As luck would have it, Cochran was also a veteran of Operation Nimrod. Not surprisingly, the two men had adjourned to the sergeants’ mess to chat over a beer.

  Kevin had asked about Monaghan’s theory on who was behind the attacks. He had also shown Cochran the picture of the Iranian, Yildrim. Cochran recognised the face in the picture, but not as the man I’d thought it was. Yildrim had several names, it seemed. Cochran knew him as Sultan Anwar, a logistics co-ordinator from the new Al Q’aeda terror group. As Anwar, he was known by a cipher, White Dove. According to Cochran, Anwar was originally from the UK but had travelled out to Pakistan and had been taken on for training by a well-known recruiter known as Abu Zubair. Anwar, alias Yildrim was a target for security services the world over.

  More news was forthcoming when Kevin asked about Mac Blackwood and the attacks on me. Cochran had heard about the suicide bombing attack on Mac but not the attempts on my life. And just as I had before him, he immediately made the embassy connection. He was also able to make a quick phone call that confirmed the young Arab who survived the embassy assault was definitely still in prison. Yildrim was not the same man.

  When Kevin explained how Monaghan had approached us to try to recover the supposedly missing files, Cochran made the absolute assertion that no ROSE files had ever gone missing from Castlederg. And in addition to that disturbing revelation, Kevin learned what became of Monaghan during the immediate period after he left the army. Our former CO had turned to drink and gambling when his wife had taken her own life. Kevin and I hadn’t even known Victoria Monaghan was dead. The reason touted for her suicide was that she was discovered having affairs with soldiers from the camp. The identity of the soldiers had never been revealed, but tongues had wagged. And the story that was spread – possibly invented, possibly based on real circumstances – was that one of the men involved was a squadron troop commander, an officer.

  And that officer was me.

  Chapter 65

  I denied it, of course.

  Well, it wasn’t true. Like many others, I’d fancied the CO’s wife but nothing more. She was a brunette, tall and slim with dark brown eyes, and I remembered that she had a flirtatious smile. I told Kevin there had been the one occasion when Victoria Monaghan had made me coffee in her kitchen while we were waiting for her husband to shower and get changed. When she handed me the cup, her hand had lingered on mine just a little longer than I would have expected. When I looked at her she had given me that smile. I had wondered then if she was trying to seduce me. Then, when I had come to leave their married quarters and head back to the camp, she had insisted on kissing me. The kiss, like the touch of hands, had lingered as her lips had caressed my cheek. As I slowly pulled away the look in her eyes had confirmed my belief.

  I’d been tempted, I admitted as much. But good sense got the better of me. Monaghan was a powerful man and had become a friend. Victoria would have to find her thrills elsewhere.

  So, with this personal experience in mind, it didn’t come as too much of a surprise to me that Victoria had taken lovers on the base. It also came as no shock to find that Monaghan had taken it badly.

  What did strike me dumb was Kevin’s subsequent admission.

  He had been Victoria Monaghan’s lover.

  He wore a grin like a Cheshire cat as the words came out.

  ‘I don’t see what’s so funny, Kev,’ I said. ‘How the hell are you going to keep a straight face when Monaghan turns up?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I guess I’m just a bit embarrassed. Aren’t you? At least nobody has my name in the frame for shaggin’ the CO’s missus.’

  ‘I told you … I never went anywhere near her.’

  ‘Yeah … so you say. But mud sticks, boss. You always were a smoothie with the women.’

  Kevin seemed highly amused at the notion Victoria Monaghan may have bedded both of us.

  ‘For Christ sake, Kev. I still don’t get what’s so bloody funny. If what Cochrane says is right, she killed herself when your affair with her was discovered.’

  ‘Hey … now hold on. Don’t go laying that guilt shit on me, boss. Anything I had going with
her was her doing. She knew what she was about and it was her that made the running. She helped me out after I had those stress problems following the embassy. Having me fuck her was what she wanted in return.’

  ‘You don’t paint her in a very good light.’

  ‘And why should I? That’s how it was. You said yourself that she gave you the come on and you were nearly tempted.’

  ‘Cochrane said there were others?’

  ‘Several.’

  We mulled over the likely suspects. There were a few who would have chanced it, characters who had reputations way in excess of anything attributed to me and who would have enjoyed the risk. Nobody would have been stupid enough to brag about it, though. In any section of the army, rumours and stories spread quickly. The SAS Regiment was no exception.

  ‘Well, you clearly weren’t the only one,’ I suggested.

  ‘That’s true. I wonder who the hell it was that she was caught with? Monaghan would have had his balls for breakfast. He’d have been gone from the regiment the same day and probably out of the army altogether.’

  ‘And then everyone would have known who it was.’

  ‘So, you reckon nobody actually knows?’ Kevin asked.

  Across the grass and through the chill morning mist, I saw a familiar figure approaching from the direction of the Regent’s Park gate.

  ‘That’s my guess … now shut up, here he comes.’

  In their nearby enclosure, the wolves of the London Zoo pack once again watched as Monaghan drew closer. One arched its back, while others groomed themselves or scratched at the ground.

  An overweight jogger slowly pounded the footpaths as an old lady threw breadcrumbs to the gathering pigeons. Central London was stirring into life. In the distance, the hum of traffic was starting to build up. The air was warming quickly, the cloudless sky providing no filter to the sun’s rays. Across the park, gentle clouds of evaporating dew lifted wistfully over the grassy landscape.

  Monaghan’s manner of dress caught us both by surprise. He wore a grey wig and heavy, dark sunglasses. A dark trilby hat was pulled down over his brow and the collar of his overcoat was pulled up.

  Kevin was the first to speak. ‘Bit dramatic, sir – the disguise an’ all.’

  I stared hard at Kevin. It was almost as if he was teasing Monaghan. I prayed he would say nothing about what we had just been discussing.

  ‘A wee bit warm in this weather as well, young man. Still, people in my position have to be careful.’ Monaghan’s tone was curt.

  ‘We believe we may have more on the Arab in the photo,’ I said.

  Monaghan was still abrupt. ‘I know who he is. What else have you to add?’

  I hesitated, confused by Monaghan’s unfriendly tone. ‘We’re told he’s a former UK citizen who uses the name Yildrim, like you said, and also the name Sultan Anwar.’

  ‘How did you find that out?’

  ‘Kev here recognised him,’ I lied. I figured there was no need to reveal how we had actually identified the Arab.

  Monaghan shielded his face against the sun and spoke gruffly. ‘Well it’s a good job my sources are better than yours. He is who you say and my informant tells me he is staying in London. He is also most certainly behind Costello and the others who have been trying to kill you. I want him taken to the safe house that Sergeant Jones has sorted. We’ll take care of it tomorrow.’

  It was my turn to be firm. Monaghan’s attitude had changed. He was now giving us orders as if we were, once again, under his command.

  ‘You know where he is?’ I asked. ‘That’s a bit short notice.’

  Monaghan turned to face me. ‘Now you listen to me, Finlay. We have one chance and one chance only to get to this man before he leaves the country. I know where he will be tomorrow night. After that he could go anywhere. If we are to recover the files, you must get him to tell you where they are … you must persuade him to tell you and then you must kill him.’

  We stood quietly for a moment.

  Again, Kevin spoke first. ‘I guess there isn’t a choice.’

  I was starting to lose my cool. Defending myself and my family was one thing. Committing murder was quite another.

  ‘There’s always a choice,’ I said. ‘Why not let MI5 deal with him the way they always used to. Bring him in, drug him, do what they have to do and he can spill what you need without us taking any more risks.’

  Monaghan glared at me. ‘Not getting cold feet are you, Captain? The fact is that we’re in this too deep to get out. MI5 haven’t made it official.’

  Kevin held up his hands to silence us. ‘That’s enough. Fact is, boss, Finlay doesn’t have the stomach to kill the Arab. You’ll have to leave that bit to me. Now what I want to know is about these files. I’ve heard there aren’t any files missing.’

  Monaghan turned to him. ‘Where did you get that from?’

  ‘An old mate.’

  ‘You’ve been to Hereford, which I would guess is also how you identified the Arab. You see Kevin, I know that Anwar has only been active for a few years. There was no way you could have recognised him.’

  ‘OK, so maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. But what about the files? How come no one at Hereford knows about any missing files?’

  ‘Need to know, Kevin. Simple as that. It was decided that the boys at Hereford were better off not knowing.’

  It was my turn to speak. ‘Wouldn’t do your credibility much good if they were to find out it was you who had lost the files.’

  Monaghan again reacted angrily. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  My brain was working overtime. An idea had come to me why Monaghan was in such a rush. I drew breath. ‘The game’s up, boss. My grey matter may be getting slow but I’ve been spending quite a bit of time wondering why you really want this sorted so quietly and quickly. You don’t want anyone knowing the files came from your office and we are going to help you keep a clean slate.’

  ‘Draw your own conclusions, Finlay. Call my club from a public phone box at midday tomorrow, SO13 are tapping your phone. Be ready.’

  Monaghan turned on his heel and walked smartly away. Even with the heavy coat and the ridiculous hat, he looked like a marching soldier.

  We watched, silently, until he had left the park gate.

  Chapter 66

  Kevin and I stood in silence for a moment, taken aback by the strange, irritable figure Monaghan had cut.

  ‘Tapping your phone are they?’ said Kevin at last.

  ‘Should I be surprised? Grahamslaw will be watching me like a hawk,’ I replied.

  ‘So, do you think we’re being watched right now?’

  ‘Probably … which is why Monaghan was disguised and why he suggested meeting somewhere so open. Nobody could get close enough to hear us.’

  ‘Telescopic mike, maybe?’

  ‘A lot of background noise … and the nearest cover is easily a couple of hundred yards away.’

  I had a look around. If someone was watching us, they were good. I’d been looking for a tail on the drive into London. Nothing had stayed behind me for more than a few moments. As a precaution, I’d taken a roundabout route using a lot of side streets. At that time of the day, there weren’t many cars around and a lot of the time the road had been empty behind me. I wasn’t sure, but it looked to me like we were in the clear.

  ‘He wasn’t in a mood to negotiate, was he?’ Kevin folded his arms. There was a look on his face that told me he had accepted the inevitable.

  ‘No … he’s not really given us a lot of choice.’

  ‘So you reckon that’s what this is all about?’

  ‘Protecting his reputation?’ I asked. ‘I think so. What we mustn’t forget is will he be prepared to back us up if things go bent again?’

  ‘As we’d be the only ones to know his secret?’

  ‘I don’t trust him. Tell me I’m being paranoid, but I think it would be tidier for him if we were to disappear. Who’d miss us after all? Just our families, and they’d be told some k
ind of story to keep them quiet.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’ Kevin looked worried.

  ‘Three choices,’ I answered. ‘One, we take a chance. Two, we get some kind of insurance – lodge a document with a brief or something, you know, to be opened after our deaths.’

  ‘And three?’

  ‘Kill Monaghan.’ I sounded tough. I wasn’t.

  ‘No chance.’

  ‘No, I guess you’re right. That wasn’t really a serious suggestion anyway.’

  ‘Insurance. That’s what we’ll do.’

  I agreed.

  By ten-thirty that morning, we had signed and lodged affidavits with a solicitor. We gave him instructions that they were to be opened after twelve months if either of us failed to make personal contact. Sworn statements, they told the whole story up to that point, everything we knew and a bit of what we suspected. Later on, I planned to mention it to Monaghan in the hope it would keep us safe from disappearing.

  I made it home by noon. It was amazing how quiet the cottage seemed now the builders had gone.

  The postman had been. Sitting on the step was a small package. After what had happened, I immediately felt my stomach tighten with fear. I edged forward to take a look without touching. Fear gave way to relief as I saw the address was in Jenny’s writing. I picked it up; it was light. By the shape it was a card with something small in a box. If Jenny had thought, she’d have known that the last thing I wanted to get was a package in the post.

  I made my way to the kitchen, flicked on the kettle and started to make a brew. As if on cue, the telephone rang. I had just started to open the parcel. I wanted it to be Jenny but it was the scout leader. I’d completely forgotten him. He wanted to know when I’d be around to do the talk to the cubs. I stalled him and made some lame excuses about work. He didn’t buy it. Now this game I was involved in was starting to cost me friends as well. I only hoped that when it was all over I’d be able to pick up the pieces.