Deep State (The Acer Sansom Novels Book 4)

by Oliver Tidy

  ‘So how do you propose to get there?’ said Mo.

  Acer smiled and said, ‘I have friends in high places. And I’m owed a big favour by them.’

  ‘What did you do? Save the world?’

  ‘Just a bit of it.’

  The knock at the door signalled the arrival of their food.

  ***

  26

  After they’d eaten, Acer excused himself and went back to his room. He had phone calls to make.

  He phoned Susan because he needed Crouch’s mobile number and she had it. She wanted to talk about how things had gone at the newspaper. He told her the truth.

  ‘Shit. I’m sorry, Acer.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. Not your fault. And we got what we wanted in the end.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘A name and a possible location for the guy’s fiancée. According to his mother. . .’

  ‘You spoke to his mother?’

  ‘Yeah. The guy from the newspaper decided to be a bit more cooperative when I went back later.’

  ‘I wonder why?’ It sounded rhetorical so Acer let it be.

  ‘According to the mother, Efe Erdem’s fiancée was looking after the sensitive material he’d put together. We’re going to see her to see if she’s still got it.’

  ‘Good. Where is she?’

  ‘Aleppo.’

  There was a brief pause before Susan said, ‘Sorry. I thought you said Aleppo. But, of course, that would be wrong because that would just be so stupid on so many levels. Unless there is another Aleppo, of course.’

  ‘Not that I know of.’

  ‘Are you winding me up, Acer?’

  ‘Not this time.’

  ‘Then you’ve had a bang on the head?’

  ‘I have, actually. But it’s not that.’

  ‘And probably not something you want to talk about?’

  ‘Later. I’m in a bit of a hurry.’

  ‘Sod hurry. Acer, if you are honestly thinking of going to Aleppo, there won’t be a later. Not unless you work out how to communicate from the spirit world.’

  Acer was starting to regret not lying to her. ‘I need to go, Susan. It’s turned into a long and complicated story that I will happily tell you all about over a couple of bottles of plonk when I come home. And don’t say if. Have a little faith.’

  ‘It’ll take more than a little to keep you safe. But I know I have absolutely no influence over you and you’ll do exactly what you like, even if it means risking your life.’

  With a smile in his voice, he said, ‘Good. Now that we’ve got that sorted, can you let me have Crouch’s mobile number? I’ve lost my phone.’

  ‘I should have guessed you had an ulterior motive for calling.’

  She dictated the number to him. He read it back to her. They said their goodbyes and good lucks.

  Just before Acer ended the call, he said, ‘One last thing, Susan.’

  She sighed theatrically. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Just in case I might be biting off more than I can chew on this one, my will is with the solicitors who oversaw the conveyance on the house.’

  ‘Why would you say something like that, Acer?’

  ‘Because you’re the named executor. That and I’m leaving you my wheelbarrow. Take care, Susan. Don’t write me off just yet.’

  He terminated the call and dialled Crouch.

  On learning the identity of the caller, Crouch said, ‘Hello, Acer. Good to hear from you. How are things going? Smoothly, I hope.’

  ‘No such luck, sir. But I didn’t really expect them to. It seems to be the story of my life.’

  ‘How can I help you?’

  ‘Thank you. I was hoping you’d say something like that. And there might be something in it for you.’

  Acer spent several minutes detailing what he needed. He kept his emotion out of it and his language confined to the bare facts as he saw them. Crouch would appreciate that.

  Crouch heard him out without interruption. When Acer had finished, Crouch said, ‘Deep state is something British Intelligence would like to know more about.’

  ‘I need to be honest with you,’ said Acer. ‘My sole aim in this is to get my daughter and Mrs Botha’s family away and safe in the knowledge that they won’t need to worry about being hunted down. I can’t do that if I give anything I find over to you and you use it.’

  ‘I understand, Acer. Still, if there is anything you know, I’m interested. Now, how can we help?’

  ‘I need to get into Syria from Turkey. I don’t want to go through official channels and I need to go quickly.’

  ‘Just you?’

  ‘No. There is a Turkish national who’ll be coming with me.’

  ‘The sister of the man who’s holding your daughter?’

  ‘Yes. She’s capable of looking after herself, and she knows the language.’

  ‘Understood. You should have no trouble getting in. Getting out again might be a little more challenging, assuming you can stay alive that long.’

  ‘I’ll try to.’

  ‘I need to check a few things. Can I call you back in say an hour?’

  ‘I’ll be waiting, sir. And thank you.’

  ‘No need, Acer. We owe you and you know it. Besides, I haven’t given up hope of you working for me again.’

  Crouch ended the call. Acer lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He gave free rein to his thoughts for the future. If, no, when he had freed his daughter, he would want to devote his time to forging the relationship with her that he felt life owed him. He knew that Mrs Botha and her influence would need to be a necessary part of that. He hoped she would be amenable. The note she’d slipped him encouraged him to think that she would. And if he could free her from her brother’s control and confinement, she would probably be even more so. Acer knew that it would involve his spending a lot of time in whichever part of Turkey Mrs Botha would choose to live in. As he began drifting off into a doze, he wondered if that would be Istanbul or Bodrum, two places where he knew she had homes, or whether both of those would prove to have memories too painful for her.

  ***

  27

  The ringing of the mobile phone brought Acer quickly back to consciousness. Stifling a yawn, he sat up and answered it. It was Crouch.

  ‘I’ve spoken to a good friend of mine, Acer. He’s agreed to get his people to help you.’

  ‘That’s great news. Thank you. How?’

  ‘By arranging safe passage for you both through a friendly zone of Syrian territory.’

  ‘How far in can he take us?’

  ‘If there are no problems, all the way to Aleppo.’

  ‘Brilliant. Who is he? When can we leave?’

  ‘He runs American intelligence in the region.’

  ‘CIA?’ asked Acer.

  ‘Yes. He has teams along the border who make regular incursions.’

  ‘What do they know about us? Our purpose?’

  ‘All they need to, Acer. You stopped a dirty bomb from being detonated under the American embassy in London. With that kind of reference, they’ll probably carry you all the way to Aleppo in a golden litter.’

  ‘Could make me a target for snipers. I’ll settle for a lift in the back of a covered lorry.’

  ‘Your best option would be to fly down to Gaziantep. It’s a town about sixty kilometres from the border. I can have you met there. Tell me when you can be there and I’ll pass it on.’

  ‘I’ll need to check flights times.’

  Crouch said, ‘The first domestic flight leaves Sabiha Gökçen at five in the morning. Arrives in Gaziantep six-thirty. There isn’t another one until late in the afternoon. You said time was a factor.’

  Acer smiled to himself that Crouch was ahead of him. He said, ‘It is. Five is doable for us, providing they’ve got available seats. I’ll check it and get back to you. And thank you again.’

  *

  Acer called their second mobile. Zeynep answered.

  ‘I’ve spoken to London.’


  ‘We’re on the roof terrace. Come and join us. Bring a jacket; it’s chilly.’

  As Acer was about to shut the door, he thought about whether to take the gun. He doubted he’d need it. But better safe than sorry was a maxim he had come to have great belief in.

  *

  They were the only two up there. They occupied a table near the railings. Acer walked over to join them. Both the women had shawls with the hotel’s name and logo draped around their shoulders. The night air was a lot colder than the daytime temperature. The view was different from the daytime, too, but no less spectacular.

  Acer said, ‘We’re on. We need to get to a place called Gaziantep down near the Syrian border. We’ll be met there and I’m assured that a safe passage is guaranteed.’

  Zeynep said, ‘You weren’t joking when you said you knew people. Who are they? Trustable, I hope?’

  ‘Friends of my London friends.’

  Mo said, ‘How far can they take you?’

  ‘All the way to Aleppo, apparently.’

  ‘Christ, you are connected. What was it you said you did again?’ When Acer didn’t answer, Mo said, ‘Hello!’

  Acer was looking over the edge of the building down into the car park at the front of the hotel. He was looking at two men who had taken an interest in the car he’d been driving around in all day. As he watched them, two other men joined them.

  Acer said, ‘Ladies, I think we have a problem.’

  They stood, crossed to the railings and followed his gaze.

  Zeynep said, ‘Shit. How could they have found us?’

  Mo said, ‘Who are they?’

  Acer said, ‘Let’s talk about that later. We’ve got about five minutes before they’re banging on our doors. That’s if there aren’t others already in the building.’

  They ran for the exit.

  Over the sound of their shoes, Acer said, ‘They’ll find out at reception that we arrived together. Grab what you can’t leave and get out of your rooms.’

  ‘Where will we go?’ said Mo.

  ‘The stairwell is next to the lifts. Let’s take our chances in there.’

  Zeynep said, ‘What about the fire escape?’

  Acer said, ‘It’s probably alarmed.’

  They were soon on their floor and sprinting towards their rooms. The two women pushed into theirs at the same time. Acer looked at the lift at the end of the corridor and saw it was on the way up. He hurried past his room, got to the lifts, yanked open the door to the stairs next to them and slipped in, shutting it quietly behind him. He stilled his breathing and stood still, listening for the sounds of shoes ascending on the granite treads. He could hear nothing other than the well-oiled whine of the lift machinery. He took the pistol out of his waistband.

  Through the small viewing panel in the door, he watched two big men with closely cropped hair and black leather coats come into view and start down the corridor.

  ***

  28

  Acer stepped out of the stairwell with the pistol in full view. One of the men turned his head at the small noise. Acer pointed the barrel at the man’s back. The man stopped walking and turned to face Acer. The second man stopped walking. He turned to see why his friend had stopped.

  The three of them stood facing each other for a long moment before Zeynep’s door opened behind the men. Acer indicated with the gun that the men should walk towards the open door. In English, he said, ‘Tell them to keep their hands where I can see them.’

  Zeynep translated. One of the men said something back. It did not sound respectful to Acer. Acer stepped forward and waved the pistol again. Still the men did not move. Their arms remained at their sides, their hard brown eyes remained fixed on Acer and his gun.

  Mo’s door opened behind the men. They instinctively turned to see who it was. Acer closed the distance between himself and the man nearest to him and brought the gun down hard on the top of his head. The man collapsed in an untidy heap. Not unconscious but groggy.

  Acer said, ‘Tell his friend he’s got three seconds to get that body in your room.’

  Zeynep translated.

  Acer remembered some more of the Turkish Eda had taught him. He said, ‘Bir, iki. . .’ The second man bent down to help his partner into Zeynep’s room.

  When they were all in, Acer shut the door behind him. He said, ‘Ask him if he wants to be tied and gagged or shot.’

  Zeynep translated. The man answered. Zeynep said, ‘Tied and gagged.’

  Acer said, ‘Tell him to sit down on the chair.’

  After being spoken to again, the man sat. He had his back to Acer. Acer crossed the carpet and hit him hard with the gun just above the ear. The man groaned and fell sideways off the chair. Acer hit the other man hard again. He stopped moving.

  Acer said, ‘We haven’t got time for restraining them.’ He was going through their pockets. They were both armed. He removed their pistols and told Zeynep to put them in her bag. They carried no police identification. Acer took their wallets.

  He stood. ‘Got everything you need?’

  The women nodded. Mo was still looking at the two men lying on the floor. Blood oozed from both of their shaven heads spoiling the carpet.

  Acer said, ‘Let’s go.’

  In the hallway, he told Zeynep to keep an eye on the lift while he grabbed his bag, glad that he’d unpacked nothing except clothes he could leave behind. He was back out in seconds.

  Zeynep said, ‘What now?’

  Acer said, ‘Original plan. Staircase.’

  Acer went down the stairs first, bag in one hand, pistol in the other. They encountered no one during their descent. At the bottom of the stairs, Acer again used the little viewing panel in the door to survey the threat level. The reception lobby was empty, apart from two people behind the reception desk who looked concerned about the two tough-looking men standing a short distance from the lifts, which were to Acer’s right.

  After a moment’s thought, Acer turned to Zeynep and told her what he wanted her to do. She nodded her understanding and hurried back upstairs, taking them two at a time.

  Acer and Mo waited. Acer saw the brightly lit numbers of the lift floor indicator counting down from their floor. He turned to Mo and said, ‘Just wait here, Mo.’

  The two men had taken a keen interest in the lift. They altered their position to block the exit, their heads tilted to watch the descending numbers.

  When it showed zero, there was brief pause and the door opened. Acer couldn’t see into the lift, but he saw the men’s reactions. They both looked down at the floor of the lift. Then they both moved forward and started bending down to where Zeynep was lying, eyes closed and ‘unconscious’.

  Quietly and quickly, Acer stepped out of the stairwell and crossed the few metres to the men, gun extended in front of him. His movement attracted the attention of one of the men, who stood and put his hands in the air. His colleague turned to see what was happening. He began to reach into his jacket. Acer prepared to shoot him, but Zeynep clubbed him over the head from behind with the pistol she was carrying. He went down hard.

  Acer turned to the reception staff and put his finger to his lips. He crossed the last few feet and said, ‘Tell him to get his friend in the lift.’

  ‘I speak English.’

  ‘Good. Do it then.’ Acer kept the pistol pointing at the man’s middle.

  Zeynep stepped out of the lift as the man bent to drag his partner in.

  Acer said, ‘How many of you?’

  The man said, ‘Six. Two outside. You’re not going anywhere.’

  To Zeynep, Acer said, ‘He’s lying. If there were six, he’d have said four. Help her with the bags. Get them out to the car and wait for me. You’d better find a back way just in case.’

  Zeynep went without delay. Acer stepped into the lift with the man and his unconscious friend and pushed the button for his floor.

  At the ding, the doors opened. Acer said, ‘Get hold of him and follow me.’

&
nbsp; The man bent to get his partner under the arms and then launched himself at Acer. He head-butted Acer in the chest and they crashed into the wall of the lift. They fell to the floor, wrestling for the upper hand.

  The man had Acer’s gun arm in a strong grip. He’d landed on top of Acer and was using his superior body weight to his advantage. Their faces were within centimetres of each other. The man tried a head-butt. Acer turned his head and it glanced off his cheekbone.

  They thrashed and grappled. The man was stronger than Acer and bigger. Heavier. But not fitter. And he did not have Acer’s determination. Acer brought a knee up into the man’s groin. The man flinched and groaned. His grip momentarily weakened. Acer got his free hand into the man’s face, his thumb into one of the man’s eyes. He gouged and the man let go another cry of pain. His grip weakened a little more. Acer wriggled and butted and clawed and squirmed until his gun arm came free. He jabbed the muzzle into the man’s side and fired – a dull, muffled thud. The man collapsed limply on top of him. Acer wriggled out from underneath and stood, sweating, panting, looking down at a dead man.

  A door opened along the hallway and a couple stepped out. They looked dressed for going out. They looked at the lift and hurried back into their room. Acer heard the door slam shut.

  He pulled the dead man’s legs into the lift and pushed the button for the roof terrace. At the top he rolled them both out into the unoccupied space. He wedged the lift door open and crossed to the railings. Looking down into the car park, he saw Mo sitting in the car and Zeynep standing next to the driver’s door. It was facing the exit. Wispy smoke from the exhaust told Acer the engine was running. Reassured that there had only been four men, he got back in the lift and pushed the button for the ground floor.

  There was blood on the floor of the lift. Acer wiped at it with his shoe. It just spread. He straightened himself up and felt the burning lump on his cheek.

  The doors opened on an empty lobby. Not even the staff was there. He crossed the ceramic-tiled floor and pushed through the revolving door into the night. He jogged down the steps and across to the car.