by James Flynn
The operative drained his coffee. “My money’s on the asset.”
Mulberry spun round. “What? But he was meant to be erased by now? He’s dead, surely?”
“Do you see the jet arriving? It seems as though the asset has been underestimated.”
“You think he knew what was happening? Is he working with someone?”
“I think they both fucked up, and it’s a fair estimation that if you can’t get hold of them then they’re dead.”
Mulberry clenched his hands as his palms began to dampen. Medea’s warning about Temple was screaming in his ears.
The operative continued, remaining ice cool, “If it’s him, then he has obviously re-directed the plane which means he must have friends involved by now. It’s possible that he may be using some of her contacts. We need to run a list of airfields that her family uses.”
“Trust me, he doesn’t have any friends. You think she’s working with him?”
“We need to run that list.” The operative dropped his eyes to his coffee. “I think it is time for you to tell me who Mr Temple really is.”
Mulberry felt out of control, his employer would be furious and he had no clue what that would lead to. “I put you in charge of the other two for a reason. Why the bloody hell didn’t you escort her to the airfield!?” He smashed his hand down.
“Well now, I have a feeling that whoever is employing you isn’t going to be happy, which means you need her more than I do, so I recommend that you be a bit nicer.” The pale eyes gave away nothing as the operative spoke. “Do you really think that Mr Temple could pull this off by himself?”
Mulberry rubbed his forehead. He knew Temple could pull it off; he had trained him to do it. Mulberry had set seemingly impossible tasks for Temple over the past five years and he always managed to find a way. He was efficient and utterly deadly. Within the small framework of Group 9 he was a mythical operative. Mulberry also knew that if Temple was still alive, then he would be taking control. He would either disappear for good, or worse, begin looking for who set him up. “Yes, he could do it. Can you find them?”
“If you give me access to things I need, then yes. And I’ll kill him for free.”
Mulberry shuddered at the man’s arrogance. “Do not underestimate him, he could chew you up and spit you out before you even knew what was happening.”
The operative broke a broad smile. “Just tell me I get what I need.”
“You’ll have everything you need, get out there and find them … fast.”
“Good, then first you need to set up phone taps on all of her father’s offices in the city. That’s what she’ll be looking at first. Can you do that?”
Mulberry nodded and the operative stood, stretched his back and left.
Mulberry sighed; the early morning sun was softening the lighting inside the terminal. He knew he had to make the call to Medea. As slickly confident as his operative appeared, he knew that Temple operated on a different level. He would probably burrow until they couldn’t find him. He flicked his phone open to make the vomit-inducing call; he remembered how adamant the voice had been about success.
39.
The shabby Range Rover bounced over the uneven runway at break-neck speed; its wheels shuddered and buckled with every jolt. Remy Aubert dropped the old clutch and depressed the brake pedal as the Land Rover reached the entrance to the airfield. He swung it left and gunned the engine as it whined and spluttered along the narrow country road, flanked on either side by well-kept hedges. Aubert still had his familiar rosy chubby cheeks. He was not a fat man but his head was almost spherical, and his hairline had receded even further since Luke had last seen him. He had on a green shooting jacket.
Luke had left both pilots in the cockpit and ordered them to lock the door and not to exit until they were long gone. The co-pilot had regained consciousness and sat in fear-ridden silence for the descent into Towcester, only breaking it to vomit in reaction to the concussion. Luke now sat in the front passenger seat. He checked the wing mirror and saw Seona in the back with her hood up, resting her head against the window, staring into the green fields.
Seona was shivering, the British summertime was non-existent and dark clouds crowded the sky. Looking at the green and brown fields stretching off into the distance, Seona couldn’t believe what had happened since she was last in the country. If only she knew two weeks ago what life had in store. She let out a single wheezy laugh at the absurdity of it all; she had no tears left. The rhythmic rocking of the car was causing her eyes to sting, and she struggled to keep them open. Sleep was trying to take her; it had been two days since it last did so. She quietly drifted off as the car chugged on down the country roads.
Aubert checked the mirror, a strong Gitane Brune cigarette hung from his mouth. He hadn’t spoken a word but now wanted to break the silence. “What the fuck is going on, Temple?” He spoke in heavily accented English and smoke drifted out of his mouth.
Luke checked Seona in the mirror and replied in French, “I have a situation, and needed somewhere to dump the jet.”
Aubert looked into the rear-view mirror at Seona and understood the need to talk in French. “Are you crazy, have you completely lost your mind? How dare you bring this to me? You think I don’t know who that is?”
Luke’s mind filtered. “What are they saying about her?”
Aubert shook his head. “I knew when the comms tower phoned through to me that this was going to be a big issue, which is why I brought this automobile. It has certain markers that have been cleaned.”
He meant that the registration number and engine registration had been taken off and altered. “Aubert, what have you heard about her?”
Aubert mumbled an expletive in French. “She is all over the screens, every channel,” he held a pause, “but they don’t have anything concrete. How did you do it Temple? From New York!?”
Luke wasn’t interested in explaining. “How fast can you delete your flight records?”
“Please, please, what do you take me for? As far as people know that flight doesn’t exist, or certainly not at our airfield.” Aubert turned his nose up at the offence.
Luke felt slightly more comfortable in his choice; Aubert had been thorough which would buy them some time.
“So is this a … sanctioned mission?” Aubert asked.
“The less you know the better; we need a bed for the night. I have to get my head together.” Luke spoke in a low voice.
“Who do you think you are, Temple? You demand to land at my airfield, you bring with you a magic treasure that the world is hunting, and then you ask if you can bring all this danger to my home … you really must be out of your mind!” Aubert raged.
“It will be one night. I need to formulate some sort of plan. We have thrown them off the scent for now.”
Aubert liked the dynamic. He took a long drag on his cigarette, then let it waterfall from his nostrils. “It is too dangerous for me. Out of the question.”
Luke stared out of the window as he spoke. “That’s a shame. Because when they catch me they will want to know a lot about me, stories and secrets will come pouring out. How many shipments from North Korea came in last year again?”
Aubert looked disgusted. “Please, your authorities can’t touch me. I am protected.”
“Who said anything about the authorities?” retorted Luke.
Aubert raised an eyebrow as he puffed out smoke.
Luke continued, “If I get caught, Aubert, it will not be by the authorities, and something tells me they will want to know what you have to do with the whole thing.”
Aubert mused on the idea. “Merde. One night … that’s it. Then I have done my bit.” He let out one final exhale of smoke and stubbed the cigarette butt on the dashboard.
The car once again descended into silence. Luke looked at Seona in the wing mirror; she was fast asleep in the back. He knew he couldn’t operate much longer without any sleep. He would have to rest to remain sharp. The time was
8.23 a.m., by now Medea was going to know that there was something wrong. He hoped everyone would be utterly confused; it was the only weapon they had.
The Range Rover entered into a small village; they had a local pub, a chemist and a small grocery shop. It all passed by in a blur. Aubert once again gunned the tired engine and threw the Range Rover round a hairpin corner. The scenery reminded Luke of his new life; the isolation and silence, echoes drifted into Luke’s ears, faint whispers and laughter, and there she was stood alone in a field, wearing a woolly jumper and jeans tucked into Wellington boots. She stood staring as the car passed, her hair blowing in the wind.
“So how are you going to disappear from this one?” Aubert once again broke the silence in French.
The image faded and Luke took in a deep breath. “I’m not going to disappear, I am going to strike.”
“You must be joking; this is not a normal situation. You will have everyone after you. What are you going to do? Strike all of them?” Aubert scoffed.
“If I need to, yes,” Luke replied, deadpan.
Aubert glanced over at Luke, “I heard certain rumours about you Temple … until now I didn’t believe them. God help us.”
Luke watched as farmhouses and cottages dotted the landscape, greens mixed with browns. He had made it back to the UK, and now he had to construct a way of finding out whom or what Medea was. The only thing he had to begin with was the office in London where he had been given the operation details. It was a huge risk, but it was all they had.
***
Aubert’s house loomed up on the horizon; it was located in the middle of a vast expanse of woodland. There was no other house within a mile radius. The woodland had been carved and ripped up directly in front of the house so that the well-kept grounds now ran without obstruction down to the narrow country lane that they were driving in on. The grounds running from the front of the house had a large circular gravel driveway and located centrally on the drive was a fountain feature.
The house itself was very large and had been built from scratch by Aubert to rival the chateaux of southern France; it was made out of a strong light stone, and was block-like in nature. The four chimneys were all placed centrally on the black slate roof. Above the double-sized entrance door there was a giant window stretching half the building height, and above it an ornately carved balcony leading out from what presumably was the master bedroom. All eight windows on the front face of the house had stone carvings etched around the frames and the windows were large and overlooked the gravel driveway.
When Aubert had originally purchased the land, it had come with an old barn, and Aubert had renovated and extended it to connect up with his mock chateau, extending out toward the rear of the property. Surrounding the rear and two sides of the chateau stood the lush woodland.
Luke had never seen Aubert’s residence before; it was as large as he expected, but he had to admit it amounted to an eyesore when matched against the surrounding area. The rickety car slowed and took a left turn onto the driveway leading up to the chateau. Luke noticed that there was a gradual incline in the land and the chateau actually stood on top of a rolling hill. The worn tyres skidded on the gravel as the car stopped.
Seona awoke with a jolt, trying to get her bearings. She saw Luke and the Frenchman opening the car doors and all the horrible memories of the past forty-eight hours flooded back. The Frenchman came round to her passenger door and opened it.
“Bonjour Mademoiselle, my name is Remy Aubert, and it seems you are now my guest.” Aubert ushered her out.
Seona took in her surroundings. The large building in front seemed totally out of keeping with the British countryside. The architecture was beautiful, but it didn’t fit.
“Is this yours?” she asked Aubert.
“It is, Mademoiselle. Welcome.” Aubert seemed proud.
Seona was no stranger to large country estates, her father had three and that was just in the UK. “Haven’t exactly kept to the surrounding features, have you? Please tell me you built this?”
Aubert looked puzzled. “Well yes, I did build this; I designed it with the best French designers.”
“Thank God, because if you had bought this then that would have made two insane people; the builder and the buyer.” With that, she walked past him and over to the front doors.
“She is quite a charmer … I’ll make a bed up for her in the woods,” Aubert said quietly to Luke.
Luke allowed himself a rare smile at the brashness of Seona, it wasn’t such a bad thing to see someone as rich as Aubert take a knock now and again.
A short elderly lady greeted them at the door. “Bonjour Alice, these are friends of mine and they will be staying for the night.” Aubert spoke familiarly with her. “Can you please make up the two middle-floor guest rooms so they are next to each other?”
“Very good Sir, just the one night did you say, Sir?” Alice spoke professionally but warmly.
“Yes, just the one night.” Aubert shot a glance at Luke. “Right, well it is …” Aubert checked his watch, “... 9 a.m. and I refuse to do anything else without having breakfast. Your rooms are on the first floor, they are next to each other, and each has a bathroom so please feel free to freshen up.” Again, he aimed the comment at Luke. “I shall get Alice to provide some fresh clothes.”
Seona gave Aubert a wry look.
“Don’t worry Mademoiselle, I have a range of female clothing. I like to treat my guests well, and I have a lot of female guests.” He smiled as he pulled out another Gitane Brune and lit it with a long drag. “When you are done, I will provide breakfast.”
Seona’s stomach let out a deep rumble, the mention of food had sent her appetite into overdrive. She was unsteady about walking off without Luke; she caught his eye and he nodded at her, giving her the ok. The interior of the house was completely at odds with the exterior; Seona had expected antique furniture and floors smothered by deep carpets but, in fact, Aubert had created an airy modern living space. The floors were varnished stone and heated, there were no doors separating the rooms, just archways and she could see the lounge stretching off to the left. Seona took a quick glance at the kitchen that arced round to the rear of the house and saw that it was white-tiled. The stairs rose up opposite the main entrance, and the ceiling rose with it so that if Seona looked up she could make out the top of the stairs as they split and curled round on themselves, peaking at the large viewing window. The steps were made from the same stone as the foyer.
She strode over to the stairs and started ascending. She could hear Luke’s footsteps close behind.
40.
The ear plugs were pulled out without care and then the blindfold was ripped off. Mulberry felt disorientated and uncomfortable, which was the desired effect. The exposed light bulbs cast a fiery intermittent light. Once he had informed Medea about his failure, the devil-like voice had immediately decided that Aegeus would pick Mulberry up for a meeting. It was more than a little disconcerting. It’s Saturday morning for Christ’s sake! Give me time...
The squat South African stood before him, and Mulberry’s nerves were shot, he didn’t know what to expect. Down in the warren-like den he felt completely isolated from the world; he could be killed without anyone knowing where he was. He clung to the hope that they just wanted to know what he was doing about the unexpected problem, but these were people who did not tolerate uncertainties or excuses.
The room was completely empty except for a decrepit-looking wooden chair that Mulberry perched on; it felt as though it was going to crumble at any minute. Mulberry was now extremely worried; there were no mirrors in this room, nor any speakers; it was just him and the menacing henchman, Aegeus.
The South African leant against the wall in front of Mulberry, folding his arms. “What’s going on then, mate?” Mulberry always felt as though the term ‘mate’ sounded derogatory.
“The set-back is a minor one, we are already sorting it.”
“Excuse me if that doesn’t fill me wit
h confidence. What exactly are you doing?”
“We know that the plane left Hamilton, but it never arrived in Kent. We have put up instant tracks on airfields used by Prussias’s family, also tapped his main offices, keeping our ears pricked for contact.”
“So, you still think that this Temple has her?” His accent seemed sharper than normal.
“That seems to be the strongest possibility; my top man says they weren’t tailed by anyone else.”
“Is this the same ‘top man’ that let Temple escape and snatch back Miss Latvik?”
Mulberry swallowed hard, he had to use experience. “No, it was the other two operatives that failed, and they are now dead. Or so we assume. They have both missed check-ins. We will find where the flight landed; they haven’t got many places to hide.”
The henchman took a moment; he then slapped Mulberry across the face with the back of his hand. “You are clutching at straws Mr Mulberry. Medea warned you about having dangerous elements in the team. This Temple seems more capable than you let on … mate.”
Mulberry was still nursing the shock of the slap. “They will slip up; he has to drag the girl around with him. He has nothing without her.”
The man moved forward and Mulberry felt his back stiffen. Aegeus delivered another back-handed slap across the face; it was degrading and violent.
“You better hope they show up … and soon. You don’t need me to tell you that Medea isn’t happy, and my job is to protect Medea’s interests.”
“I have a lot of resources, Medea needn’t worry. We are going to the authorities with Temple, we’ll narrow his options. I have it under control.” Mulberry squirmed.
The South African leaned close. “What authorities?”
“It’s the fastest way. I am going to inform the security services over here and release Temple as the official suspect, and we will flush him out.” Mulberry spoke at speed.
Aegeus stayed close. “You had better hope it works, mate, we need that girl.”
