Wicked Game

by Matt Johnson

‘Do you know his name … this Captain?’ Grahamslaw asked, trying to keep his voice level.

  ‘I do … but you know I can’t say.’

  Grahamslaw had guessed the answer to his next question, but he asked it anyway.

  ‘Was it Robert Finlay?’

  ‘Fuck.’ Parratt said, then choked, as he realised who he’d sworn in front of.

  The Commissioner blinked in surprise before turning back to face Grahamslaw. ‘Something tells me that was more than a random guess, Bill.’

  ‘Sir. Yes sir, sorry for swearing an’ all,’ interrupted Parratt. The Commissioner waved his hand. ‘Finlay is in the job now. He’s the Inspector that survived two car-bomb attempts. He’s the very bloke we’ve been following around London hoping he’d lead us to the Arab.’

  ‘Well, that is quite a coincidence.’ The Commissioner again turned back to Grahamslaw. ‘Bill, what do you know about Robert Finlay?’

  ‘Only that he was one of the SAS lads at the Iranian Embassy. He’s been in the Met for a long time and kept his past secret.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know too much about Finlay, but what I can tell you is that when Webb ambushed him, back in the early eighties, Finlay was on his own against four IRA men armed with Kalashnikovs. He killed three of his attackers before being injured himself. Webb’s own brother was one of them.’

  Chapter 92

  As we pulled into our drive, I heard the telephone ringing inside the house. I hoped it wasn’t Jenny’s mother wanting to make plans to bring Becky home. As much as I wanted to see our daughter, I was exhausted and ready to hit the sack.

  ‘That’ll be my mum,’ said Jenny as she opened the front door to the cottage.

  I feared she was right. It looked like any idea I had about catching up on sleep was going to be frustrated. We were also going to need to sit down and decide what to do in response to the news from Kevin. I’d been thinking about it on the journey back from the hospital. If Kevin was right, and recent events were indeed linked to the embassy, we were both going to need Grahamslaw’s help.

  I had a look around outside. Everything looked normal.

  Jenny called to me from inside the front door. ‘It’s for you.’

  I headed indoors and picked up the phone. It was Grahamslaw, the very man I needed to speak to.

  ‘How’s Kevin Jones?’ he asked. ‘I heard you’ve spent all night at the hospital.’

  ‘Not out of the woods but he’s tough,’ I said. ‘He’ll pull through. Is he why you rang? I need to talk to you about something.’

  ‘It’ll have to wait. Something’s come up. Can you speak freely?’

  Jenny had gone upstairs.

  ‘Go on,’ I said, quietly.

  ‘Do you remember someone called Richard Webb?’

  It was a name I could hardly forget. Nightmares from the time, repeated in recent weeks, made sure that the fight with Webb and his friends would, most likely, stay with me for life. It was the closest I had ever come to being killed and the only time I’d ever been shot. I remembered Webb all right.

  ‘I remember him. Why do you ask? That was twenty years ago.’

  ‘It appears he’s back on the scene. Look Finlay, I’m going to level with you. I know that you and Kevin had a picture of an Arab meeting with Costello, and you won’t be too surprised if I told you that I also think it was you two at the St Pancras Hotel the other day.’

  ‘What are you saying? What do you mean Webb is back?’ I asked, starting to sweat, my stomach flipping over.

  ‘We’ve every reason to think that the Arab whose picture you were studying is Richard Webb.’

  A missing piece from the jigsaw dropped into place. The blue eyes. Now I understood. The fear in Yildrim’s eyes when he had looked at me outside the lift. He’d recognised me, realised I wasn’t a simple MI5 runner. He knew who I was. That’s why he ran. Grahamslaw was right. Yildrim was Richard Webb.

  What Kevin had said at the hospital now made sense. Webb’s motive was to find me: I had killed his brother. Now he planned to secure retribution. Finding me was nothing to do with the embassy. Somehow, he and Monaghan must have teamed up. Each with his own agenda, but with a common goal, me. And now he was out there, somewhere, with only one target in mind. I had to make immediate plans. My weapons, I’d need them. I’d have to cancel Jenny’s mum bringing Becky home, move Jenny back again, so much to do…

  ‘Finlay? You OK?’ said Grahamslaw.

  ‘Blue eyes,’ I said.

  ‘What’s that? I don’t get you.’

  ‘The Arab. He has blue eyes. He’s not an Arab at all. You’re right. It all makes sense.’

  The line clicked, just once, as if the upstairs telephone had just been returned to its cradle.

  A sudden scream cut through me. It came from upstairs. Jenny.

  He was here. Webb was here.

  I dropped the phone. My instant reaction was to run up the stairs but, for a second, I froze, uncertain as to what to do. I forced myself to think. Webb would have come prepared. I had no weapon. If I charged in then I would have no way to defend myself or help Jenny.

  Then I remembered the Beretta. I hadn’t had time to return it to the tree hide. It was still under the driver’s seat, in the car outside. I ran as fast as I could, despite it going against everything I’d been taught. I knew that good sense would mean a stealthy approach but that had been Jenny screaming.

  Gun ready, I launched myself up the stairs.

  Chapter 93

  I stopped on the landing, unsure where to start. All was quiet.

  ‘Bastard!’

  The cry was muffled, but it was Jenny’s voice and it came from our bedroom, the one that overlooked the front of the house. There was a muffled thud and then all went quiet again. I eased forward and gently pushed the door ajar. The hinges creaked.

  ‘Looking for something?’ A male voice came from the far side of the bedroom.

  The curtains were pulled closed. In the half-light, I could vaguely make out the outline of a figure. There was no sign of Jenny.

  I was in the doorway, exposed. Whoever he was, he could see me clearly. Where was Jenny? I called to her. There was a murmur, a groan. It sounded like she was gagged. She seemed to be on the floor near the man’s feet. At least she was alive.

  ‘Stand still.’ The voice was controlled, calm.

  I knew that I was at a distinct disadvantage. Even if I could raise the Beretta before the man fired, I had to be sure where Jenny was so I didn’t hit her.

  Unexpectedly, a light went on at the bottom of the stairs behind me. Another man’s voice called out my name.

  I stepped back away from the bedroom doorway, leaned against the wall and glanced back down the stairs. On the bottom step stood a man dressed in military combats and covered from head to toe in twigs and bits of bush. So, there had been a surveillance officer watching me. I’d missed him. Grahamslaw must have heard Jenny’s scream and contacted his man with orders to help.

  The man in the bedroom spoke again. ‘Throw your gun into the room, Finlay. It’s you I want, not your wife.’ The accent was Northern Irish and he knew my name. If it was Richard Webb, he had dropped all pretence at being an Arab.

  My eyes were starting to adjust to the half-light. As I tried to weigh up what to do, previously abstract shapes started to gain stronger form. A man was standing in the far left corner of the room, opposite me and near to the window. He had dark clothing on. In his right hand, he held an Uzi machine pistol with the barrel pointed towards me. Again, I looked back and gently raised my finger to my lips. I needed my new friend to stay quiet.

  Abruptly, a burst of gunfire split the air. Plasterboard pieces dropped from the ceiling in front of me as bullets passed through. I flinched, my ears immediately ringing from the deafening roar of the gun. The surveillance officer stopped in his tracks. I looked back toward the gunman.

  ‘Throw your gun on the bed … now.’ The Irishman’s voice was strong and gave no sense of fear or nerves.
>
  I couldn’t do what he asked. To surrender my weapon was to submit to my fate and allow my tormentor to take control. While I retained the Beretta, I still had a chance. I glanced behind me to where the camouflaged figure was creeping slowly up the stairs. Then I saw it. From beneath his jacket he produced a pistol. A Glock. An idea immediately sprung to mind. There was a chance. I leaned through the door and threw the Beretta onto the bed.

  ‘Tell your friend behind you to walk into the room, Finlay.’

  I swore under my breath. My plan had hit the buffers. Somehow, the gunman must have been aware that I had help. I gestured to the camouflaged man to do as he was asked. He did, and as he passed me, he carefully slipped the pistol into my hand. I strained to keep my face straight and control the tremendous surge of hope that I now felt. Not only was I now armed again, but the gunman didn’t know.

  I kept my hand behind my back as I held the Glock ready. It felt like a Model 17, 9mm, standard police issue. I hoped it had a round in the chamber ready. As I slipped the grip into my palm, I could feel the small safety catch lever contained in the trigger.

  ‘Stand facing the wall where you are,’ the gunman told the surveillance officer. ‘Put the bedroom light on, Finlay. I don’t want you to miss this part.’

  I leaned into the room, found the switch with my left hand and flicked it on.

  Richard Webb was standing in the far corner of the room with the Uzi pointing at Jenny. She lay on her front on the floor in front of him. Even with the years that had passed, I now recognised him. It was odd that things hadn’t clicked at the St Pancras hotel. To my right, the camouflaged cop was standing with his hands held high, facing the wall. He was too far away from Webb to consider any form of surprise attack. I could only just see Jenny on the opposite side of the room behind the bed. Webb seemed to be pinning her down with his foot.

  ‘Hello, Richard. Long time, no see,’ I said, trying to sound calm as I cast my eyes around the room. Webb was alone. I had to buy some time, find a chance to turn the tables on him.

  Webb smiled broadly. ‘Christ, you’re one of a kind, Finlay. I’m standing here planning on killing your lovely wife and you greet me like a long-lost friend.’

  ‘My wife has a name, Richard. It’s Jenny. She’s a mother, just like you have, and she has a child, a little girl called Becky.’

  Webb laughed. ‘Don’t try your fuckin’ negotiator tricks on me, Finlay. I heard what that cop said … I was listening to the phone call. He warned you to expect me. Well, here I am … here to do you and your little wifey. Who goes to heaven first don’t bother me.’

  ‘Came as a bit of a shock, I suppose?’ I replied. He was right about what I’d said, the longer we talked the greater the opportunity to distract him and allow time for the help that would by now be on its way.

  Jenny tried to move again and then groaned as Webb increased the pressure that his foot was exerting on her back.

  A surge of anger hit me. That was my wife, my innocent and vulnerable partner, who was now experiencing a danger of which she had no understanding or appreciation of why it was happening. I relaxed my shoulders and controlled my breathing as I struggled to be calm, to stay controlled. I knew what I had to do and I knew that I would only do it well if I stayed detached. But with my heart racing and my chest tightening, it wasn’t proving easy.

  ‘The hotel you mean?’ Webb asked.

  ‘Yes, when I came to pick you up. You recognised me.’

  ‘Yes … I did that. I see your face for the first time in twenty years and I’m about to get in a lift with you, aye, it was a wee surprise, I’ll tell ya. You missed your chance, you won’t get another.’

  ‘I didn’t recognise you.’

  ‘Not many do these days, even that idiot Costello. He and I used to go to the same school and he still thought I was Iranian.’

  ‘Costello’s dead.’

  Webb appeared to flinch, but then instantly regained his composure. ‘No matter. There are many more like Costello in this world and now I won’t have to pay him.’

  ‘Pay him? Is that what this is all about? Money?’

  ‘For him, yes. He was a hired gun. For me … well, you know why I’m here, Finlay. Does your little wife here know too?’

  I glanced down to where I could just make out the outline of Jenny as she lay pinned to the floor. She had stopped struggling.

  ‘You ok, Jen?’ I asked.

  There was a muffled grunt. I was right about the gag.

  ‘Tell your wife, why don’t you, Finlay? Tell your wife how twenty years ago you bravely shot my fifteen-year-old brother to death. Tell her how his life’s blood spilled over the roadway, how his brains decorated the car … you tell her, Finlay.’

  ‘There was nothing brave about it, Richard. I was doing a job, you and your friends tried to kill me.’ I wondered how Jenny was reacting to what she was hearing, whether she would be confused or angry. I was about to try and reassure her when Webb reacted.

  ‘You liar…’

  His top lip curled back in a snarl as he lifted the Uzi. Another burst of fire hit the wall alongside me.

  I pulled back a few inches, nearer the door and in a way that kept Webb from seeing the Glock. My heart seemed to be trying to burst out through my rib cage. I was going to have to do something, and quickly.

  Despite the years that had passed since I’d completed any form of training in hostage scenarios, my soldier’s brain was starting to spark into life. I was seeing things, noting details and making plans, and my body was starting to feel alive. It was the adrenaline that had triggered it, but long-forgotten lessons and skills were now in my grasp.

  I looked at Webb’s index finger. It was steady, resting gently on the trigger. The Uzi, I could see, was set on automatic. That meant trying to get Webb to take his finger off the trigger, if I was to have any chance of overpowering him. The magazine on the machine pistol looked to be a standard fitment. That meant twenty-five rounds maximum with at least nine or ten fired already. The fifteen remaining bullets were more than enough to kill us all, but the rate at which Webb was wasting ammunition might prove decisive. If I could get him to waste a few more, we might have a chance. I decided to keep the conversation going.

  ‘How am I a liar, Richard?’

  ‘You butchered my brother. You stood there and shot him in cold blood … he never stood a chance.’

  ‘And if I’d let him get out of the car with his Kalashnikov? Would that have made it a fairer fight?’

  ‘Fair … what would you know about fair? What did the SAS ever know about fair? You were there to kill, pure and simple.’

  ‘So, how did you find me?’ I asked.

  ‘At my trial, you were there.’

  ‘I had a cipher, no name … and I was behind a screen.’

  ‘Monaghan told me who you are.’

  That confirmed it. The final proof, and from the horse’s mouth. Monaghan had betrayed us. I wondered, just possibly, would I be able to stall Webb and also discover the reason why?

  ‘So, what did you do?’ I said. ‘Blackmail him or something?’

  ‘Something, yes. He knew my line of work and he came looking for me with a proposition. You were the bait. I think you’d call it a mutually beneficial arrangement.’

  ‘Until you killed him…’

  ‘He betrayed me. I was supposed to deal with you myself … that was the deal. Then he tried to get clever by having you snatch me. There was only one person apart from me who knew I was at that hotel.’

  ‘Why betray you when Kevin and I were still alive? I don’t get it.’

  ‘That’s because you don’t work in my world, Finlay. Monaghan was going to kill all of us. The job was done … all the main targets eliminated. You and Jones were extras. Monaghan was going to kill you two himself. By killing me at the same time, he planned to make sure there wasn’t a connection back to him.’

  Kevin was right. Monaghan was going to make it up close and personal.

&n
bsp; ‘So, you did him first.’

  ‘All’s fair in war, Finlay.’

  ‘Did he tell you why he wanted the others dead?’ I asked.

  ‘That was his business. All I wanted was you.’

  ‘So he didn’t tell you it was revenge against men he thought had been sleeping with his wife.’

  Webb laughed. ‘You’re kidding me? Well, if that’s the case then she had quite an appetite. Those boys paid a heavy price for a bit of fun, didn’t they?’

  ‘They’re not the only ones, Richard. Monaghan’s wife committed suicide when she was found out.’

  Webb laughed again. ‘Like that matters to me, Finlay. She played with fire and got burned.’

  I paused for a moment. The opening dialogue with Webb was going well. I tried to make eye contact with the surveillance cop but he was looking at the Uzi, watching its barrel, ready to move if it swung in his direction.

  ‘So, tell me Richard. How did a lad from the streets of Castlederg manage to pass himself off as an Arab?’

  In the distance, the sound of an approaching siren reached our ears. I wouldn’t need to keep Webb talking for much longer before help was at hand. But he had other ideas.

  ‘Long story, Finlay … and you’re never gonna get to hear it.’

  Chapter 94

  Webb lowered the Uzi and pointed it at Jenny’s head. In that moment, he must have sensed that the surveillance cop was about to try something. He looked away from her for a split second and as the barrel of the Uzi lifted, she suddenly swung her foot up from the floor and into his groin. He folded.

  The talking was over. I swung the pistol around from behind my back and fired. My first bullet was aimed at Webb’s chest, near to his heart. The force knocked him back against the window. I kept firing. This wasn’t me being professional and it wasn’t meant to be pretty. This was me saving my wife from a madman. Bullets hit the wall around Webb and smashed through the glass of the window. Some must have hit him, because he spun around.

  Next thing, Jenny was on him like an angry cat.