‘Sounds like a plan,’ Ackerman said. ‘Let’s get going.’
Gray yawned and fell backwards onto the bed.
‘Do you guys need me to be there?’ he asked.
‘Not at all,’ Smart said. ‘Grab a couple of hours. We’ll be back soon.’
Ackerman led the way through the bustling market towards the hospital, ignoring the vendors as they clamoured for a sale. It was heavy going, as each stall owner wanted to offload something on the tourists, and by the time they managed to battle their way to the far end, the journey had taken longer than expected. They’d assumed they could manage the one-kilometre walk in less than twenty minutes but had already spent that long fighting off spice salesmen. They also drew stares from a few of their fellow shoppers, making the team wary and alert.
When they eventually arrived at the hospital, Ackerman found the reception desk and introduced himself.
‘Hi. My name’s Kyle and I’m from the British High Commission in Pretoria.’
The nurse looked distinctly unimpressed and waited for him to continue.
‘We are looking for a white male, aged twenty-seven, who went missing at around the time of an explosion just off Kufar Mata Road near the old city. Did you hear about it?’
The nurse nodded but clearly wasn’t about to offer up any further information.
‘The man I’m looking for is called Michael Andrews. Has anyone by that name been brought here in the last few days?’
The nurse rifled through a pile of papers, then shook her head. ‘Perhaps he was taken to City Hospital.’
‘We’ve already tried there,’ Ackerman lied. ‘They said he was most likely here. Was anyone involved in the explosion admitted to this hospital?’
‘Yes, but he wasn’t a white male.’
‘It would really help if I could speak to him, to ask if he saw Michael in the area just before the blast.’
The nurse picked up a phone and spoke in her native language, then pointed to some chairs and asked the group to wait.
‘What do you think?’ Sonny asked the others as they took their seats.
‘She called a doctor and asked him to come and deal with us,’ Mackenzie said.
‘You speak Hausa?’ Ackerman asked.
Mackenzie nodded. ‘My father spoke it when I was growing up.’
Ackerman rose as a doctor wearing a stereotypical white gown approached them, the mandatory stethoscope around the neck completing the ensemble.
‘I’m Doctor Akulna,’ he said, shaking Ackerman’s hand. ‘I understand you were enquiring about one of my patients.’
Ackerman once again went through the cover story, glad to find the doctor slightly more receptive to his request.
‘Beke Anwo was seriously injured in the blast, though we have managed to stabilise him. I’m not sure he would be up to any questioning, though.’
‘I’d like to at least try,’ Ackerman said. ‘Michael’s family are most concerned, and if we can establish that he wasn’t in the area, it would be a great comfort to them.’
‘Very well, but I can’t allow you all into his room. Two of you can remain here.’
‘Okay, I’ll take Len,’ Ackerman said.
‘You’d be better off taking Mack,’ Smart said. ‘His Hausa might come in handy.’
Ackerman agreed, and the pair followed the doctor up the stairs and along the corridor to Anwo’s room. Inside, they found him lying in the bed, both legs and his left arm encased in plaster. An oxygen tube was taped under his nose, and a drip fed clear liquid into his right arm.
A nurse was spoon-feeding him a clear broth, and she looked up when they entered.
‘How’s our patient doing?’ the doctor asked.
‘Very hungry,’ the nurse told him, as she emptied the last morsel from the bowl. ‘I’ll go and get some more.’
She left the room, and Akulna pulled down the bed covers and examined the bandages wrapped tightly around Anwo’s chest. His hands then moved up to the swollen face.
‘You’re a very lucky man,’ the doctor told him, but got no response. Anwo appeared to be focused on the other two men in the room. The doctor made way for them, and Ackerman was the first to approach the bed.
‘Hello, Beke. My name is Kyle. I’d like to ask you a few questions about the explosion, if that’s okay.’
Anwo gave him a puzzled look, and the doctor explained why. ‘The explosion perforated his eardrums, so you’ll have to speak slowly and clearly.’
Ackerman repeated his request, and Anwo nodded his head.
‘Thank you,’ Ackerman said, pulling a chair up to the bed and sitting down. ‘First of all, what were you doing in the area when the bomb went off ?’
‘I was just walking past,’ Anwo replied, his voice hoarse, and Ackerman could see broken teeth as he spoke. ‘Luckily there was a big car between me and the building. It must have saved me.’
Ackerman nodded and began describing the fictional Michael Andrews. ‘Did you see anyone in the area who looked like that?’
The doctor excused himself, and once he’d left the room, Ackerman’s manner changed instantly. ‘Where’s your phone?’ he asked, leaning over Anwo.
Mackenzie was already at work, rummaging through a plastic bag containing shredded, bloodied clothes. When he stumbled across the handset, he pulled it out and held it up.
‘Explain to me how you came to own a phone that was used to plan the recent attacks on Britain,’ Ackerman said.
‘I don’t know anything.’
But Anwo’s face betrayed him, as did the machine monitoring his heart rate.
‘Let me try,’ Mackenzie said. He placed the phone on the bed stand and stood over Anwo, pressing down on his bandaged chest just hard enough to cause discomfort. ‘Kake jin Hausa?’ Do you speak Hausa?
Anwo nodded slightly, and Mackenzie continued. ‘Kada ka damu, ni a nan ya taimake ka.’ Do not worry, I am here to help you.
The injured man looked confused, but Mackenzie continued in Hausa. ‘I was sent by your master. This man wants to track him down and kill him, but I will not let that happen. You must refuse to answer any more of his questions. Do you understand?’
Anwo nodded again.
‘Good. Now, talk to me as if you were angry. Do it quickly.’
The bed-ridden man began shouting in Hausa, all the time glaring into Mackenzie’s eyes.
‘Excellent. Now, I want you to start screaming for the nurse, as loud as you can. When she comes, just tell her you need to go to the toilet.’
Anwo tried to shout, but the bandages restricted his diaphragm, and it came out more of a yelp.
‘Louder,’ Mackenzie urged, ‘and once we leave, phone someone to pick you up and take you to a safe house. They’ll be back for you.’
He gestured for the man to be quiet, solely for Ackerman’s benefit, then moved quickly towards the door as Anwo released a more powerful cry.
‘He refuses to talk,’ Mackenzie said to Ackerman. ‘He’s calling for the police. We’d better leave.’
They walked quickly away from the room and hurried back down the stairs, whispering a quick ‘Time to go’ when they passed Smart and Sonny in the reception area. Once out of the building, they jogged along for half a kilometre before slowing to a walk.
‘What did you get out of him?’ Sonny asked, as they made their way back to the hotel.
‘Nothing,’ Mackenzie said. ‘We tried to question him, but he started screaming for the police. We couldn’t hang around after that.’
‘Do you think he was involved?’
‘Definitely,’ Ackerman said.
‘So what now?’
‘We’ll have to rely on the airport records,’ Ackerman told Sonny. ‘Unless you’ve got any better ideas?’
‘How about paying him a late-night visit?’
‘Risky,’ Ackerman said, ‘and we’re not here to draw attention to ourselves.’
‘It shouldn’t be too difficult,’ Sonny pressed. ‘Up the drainpipe, pop the window and have a quick, aggressive chat.’
‘Let’s call that plan B, shall we?’
Five minutes into the slog through the market, Mackenzie spotted a stall offering a vast selection of mobile phones and, knowing that he’d need one to pass on the latest developments, he formed a quick and simple plan.
He waited until they’d managed to cover another fifty yards, then tapped Ackerman on the shoulder.
‘I saw a shawl back there that my girl would love. You guys go ahead. I’ll catch you up.’
Ackerman was about to protest, but Mackenzie offered a quick smile and a pat on the shoulder, then jogged into the crowd.
Tom Gray woke to a growling stomach, and his watch told him he’d been sleeping for barely forty minutes. The headache that had been threatening for the last half day had finally abated, but he still felt dehydrated. He climbed out of bed and went into the en-suite toilet, where he ran the cold tap for a few moments, hoping for the water to change from a dull rust colour to something more palatable.
He gave up after a couple of minutes, though he used a mouthful of it while brushing his teeth and a splash more to sort out his hair. Looking slightly more respectable, he walked down to the lobby and popped his head into what appeared to be the restaurant, but the place was deserted. With no other choice, he asked the receptionist for directions to the hospital before strolling out into the heat of the afternoon, the plan being to try to join up with his men and grab some sustenance on the way.
In the distance he could see the building his friends had gone to, and he walked towards it, keeping an eye out for a shop that would provide him with food and drink. The first place he came to sorted out his thirst problem, and he followed his nose in search of something more substantial than the airline meals that had seen him through the last couple of days.
The aroma of spices drew him towards Kurmi Market. Alas, the first stalls he encountered offered only the uncooked versions of local cuisine. He continued onwards through the maze, trying his best to explain to the locals that he didn’t want a wooden crocodile statue, just something to fill his stomach.
He eventually came across a rickety wooden stand that had cooked chicken hanging from metal hooks, and he took a chance on a bowl of what looked like curry. It was served with unleavened bread, and, despite looking rather unpleasant, tasted delicious.
Gray emptied the bowl in double-quick time and was contemplating another helping when he looked through the back of the stall and saw someone familiar in the adjacent aisle. He watched as Paul Mackenzie thrust a handful of the local currency into the hands of a cloth salesman in exchange for a multi-coloured wrap, but the tall recruit’s real focus was clearly on the next stall, which offered a wide selection of mobile devices. Scarf in hand, Mackenzie slid to the next stall and pointed to a flip-up handset. He didn’t bother to dicker over the price, but simply handed over a fistful of naira, then disappeared back in the direction he’d come from.
Gray’s face heated as he watched in disbelief. The one thing he’d hammered home to everyone was that phones were strictly off limits, yet here was Mackenzie buying a new handset. Why he’d need one, Gray wasn’t sure, but he suspected it was so that he could stay in contact with his girlfriend, who certainly sounded high-maintenance.
Gray set off in pursuit, but something popped into his head and he checked his pace.
What if Mackenzie weren’t going to use it to call his girlfriend? What if he wanted it to stay in touch with someone else?
He thought hard about what he knew about the man, and there wasn’t that much. He remembered his CV mentioning that he’d left the army shortly after joining E squadron, which had struck Gray as odd at the time. Every member of the SAS wanted to be chosen for that particular unit, so to be given the opportunity only to walk away a few months later didn’t add up. Even the recent revelation that there was a beautiful woman influencing his decision didn’t feel right. Gray himself had been besotted with his first wife Dina but had made it clear from the start that he was SAS through and through. It was the birth of their son Daniel that finally prompted him to consider a different, safer line of work.
Gray let Mackenzie get a lead on him, then took a circuitous route back to the hotel, all the time considering his options. Confronting Mackenzie head-on was unlikely to be productive, so he thought up a couple of ways to find out exactly what Mackenzie’s intentions were.
By the time he got back to his room, he had the basic plan in his head.
‘I thought you were sleeping,’ Smart said, as he walked into the room. ‘We got worried when we came back and you were gone.’
‘I needed something to drink,’ Gray told him. ‘How did it go?’
Ackerman told him about the brief meeting. ‘Going back for a second interview is out of the question.’
‘What about his phone? Is there anything useful on it?’
Ackerman looked over at Mackenzie, whose head dropped. ‘I left it on the nightstand. When he started screaming, it completely slipped my mind.’
‘There’s always plan B,’ Sonny reminded him, and before Ackerman could object, he explained what he had in mind.
‘I like it,’ Gray said after a moment’s thought. ‘Len, you and I will go with Kyle to get the airline passenger lists. Sonny, I want you and Mackenzie to scope out the hospital from the exterior and let me know if you’re going to need anything to make this happen.’
‘Are you sure about this, Tom? It’s incredibly risky.’
‘Relax,’ Gray smiled. ‘It’s what we do best. Let’s get moving.’
Ackerman pulled a plastic bag from his hand luggage and followed Smart and Gray down the stairs and out into the street, where they flagged down a taxi. Once they had climbed in and pulled away, Gray told them that he had something entirely different on his mind.
‘We’re not going after the guy in the hospital,’ he said, and got confused looks in return.
‘Then why send Sonny and Mack to check it out?’
‘I don’t think we can trust Mackenzie,’ Gray said.
‘Because he forgot the phone?’
‘That’s part of it, but when I was in the market I saw him buy a new mobile.’
‘Why the hell would he buy a phone?’ Smart asked. ‘We went over that.’
‘Exactly my point,’ Gray said. ‘Leaving the guy’s phone at the hospital is one thing, and it could be excused in a rookie, but this guy was in the top one percent of the regiment. To go on and disobey a clear order says there’s more to Mackenzie than we thought.’
‘So what do we do about it?’ Ackerman asked.
‘I need you to call Andrew.’
Gray gave Ackerman a set of instructions and listened in as they were relayed back to England.
‘If you’re right about this,’ Ackerman said, as he ended the call, ‘how do you want to handle it?’
‘Sonny’s plan B,’ Gray said. ‘A quick, aggressive chat.’
Chapter 35
19 December 2014
Andrew Harvey stood in the small kitchenette, stirring his coffee absently as he stared at nothing in particular. The revelation that Gray’s man Mackenzie could be tied up in the whole mess had come as a shock, though it finally explained the source of the text messages to Thompson, the most recent one of which had read:
Gray’s kid in Italy with grandparents.
He knew for a fact that Ackerman hadn’t mentioned grandparents during their conversation, strengthening the argument against Mackenzie. All he had to do now was get irrefutable proof, and Gray’s idea might just work, with a little tweaking.
He picked up the drink and walked back to his desk.
‘Any news
from the continent?’ he asked Farsi.
‘No sign of Farrar’s yacht yet. I think he may have tried farther afield, so I’ve alerted the Spanish, Portuguese and Moroccan authorities in the south, along with Germany and the Scandinavians to the north. I can’t imagine he’d go too much farther in that vessel.’
‘Hopefully we can trick Mackenzie into giving us a heads-up on Farrar.’
‘What do you have in mind?’
‘When I get a pre-arranged text from Kyle, I’ll call him ten minutes later and tell him we’ve found Farrar and that they can come home. If Mackenzie’s the one passing info to Thompson, we’ll know about it.’
‘And if he’s not the one?’
‘Then we’re back to square one, and we’d better hope they have a plan B.’
‘You really think Farrar is behind all this?’
Harvey sat back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. ‘To be honest, I still can’t believe Juliet Harper is involved.’
‘She’s a politician.’ Farsi shrugged, his statement needing no clarification. ‘What should concern you more is Brigandicuum. I‘ve been thinking about it, and there’s no way this can be kept under wraps.’
‘They have that covered,’ Harvey told him. ‘It’s totally deniable. A press of a button and it’s history. All traces will be wiped.’
‘You really think it’ll be that simple?’
‘They’ve been planning this for years. I think they’ll have all bases covered.’
‘Then how do we make a conviction stick? We’re working on the premise that Harper set the attacks in motion in order to get this thing online. If we have no proof that Brigandicuum exists, what case do we have?’
‘That’s exactly what I was thinking,’ Harvey said. ‘And if we do get proof, we can kiss the world’s greatest anti-terrorist system goodbye.’
‘So it’s a trade-off. Either we let Harper get away with it, or we lose Brigandicuum.’
Harvey had come to the same conclusion a few hours earlier, and he still wasn’t sure which was the best outcome. Brigandicuum was undoubtedly the best tool they had, and it would help immensely in the war against terror, but at what price? Was it worth the lives of almost ten thousand British citizens, not to mention those visitors from other countries caught up in the carnage? Could he conscionably allow Harper to get away with mass murder in order to prevent further atrocities? His heart said no, but the thought of throwing away their greatest asset meant making a decision was almost impossible.
Gray Vengeance Page 24
