4. Gray Retribution

by Alan McDermott

  Suitably appeased by the flattery, Vick returned to the cooking. Gray joined her and returned moments later with a couple of beers.

  ‘So what’s the real story?’ Gray asked quietly, as he sat down on the sofa. ‘Still single?’

  Harvey glanced towards the kitchen and, satisfied that he wasn’t going to be seen, he nodded.

  Gray felt a little sorry for him. Harvey was still in his mid-thirties and had a face that, while not particularly striking, still caught the eye of the ladies from time to time. Having rugged, after-shave-advert looks wouldn’t have done him much good in his chosen profession, as the ability to blend into a crowd was important for an MI5 operative.

  Despite having no problem finding female company, Harvey simply seemed to prefer the single life. His work often kept him in the office late, and the unsociable hours had damaged more than one relationship before it had a chance to blossom. There had been a special lady in Harvey’s life, but that had turned sour once she stopped believing he was at work, instead imagining him cavorting with a mistress, a tale that had brightened up one of Gray’s duller evenings.

  He knew that, rather than face further recriminations, Harvey preferred to keep his own company.

  ‘How’s work?’ Gray asked, changing the subject.

  ‘Much the same as always, but some news came in from the Africa desk that might concern you.’

  Gray sat to attention. ‘Possible work?’

  ‘Not quite. There was an attack on a Kanto village in Kingata last night. By all accounts it looks like an Agbi incursion from Malundi, but their president is denying all knowledge.’

  ‘I’ve got a team out there,’ Gray said.

  Harvey nodded. ‘I know, that’s why I’m giving you the heads-up. We think someone is trying to trigger a conflict and your guys could get caught up in it.’

  ‘Len Smart said that in the last few months a lot of teenage boys have disappeared from villages near the Kingata border. He thinks someone might be using them as boy soldiers. Have you heard anything along those lines?’

  ‘The desk might have something on it. I’ll ask when I’m back in the office.’

  ‘Len thought a local warlord called Sese Obi might be involved. I’ve done a search on the internet but he doesn’t seem like a big-time player.’

  ‘That’s because he isn’t,’ said Harvey. ‘He was on a list of people suspected of attacking the village, but way down at the bottom with a rating of highly unlikely. Mind you, none of them seemed likely candidates. I checked him out anyway, and he’s been making some noises in the last twenty-four hours, but I agree with their assessment. Whoever’s behind this, they appear to be the new kids on the block.’

  Gray wasn’t happy that his team were potentially in the middle of someone else’s war. True, his job was to send his men to the world’s hotspots, but they were usually briefed on current threats and knew the enemy they faced. He’d selected Len’s unit for this particular mission because of the relative safety, given what they been through in the last couple of years, but it looked like they could end up back in action a lot sooner than any of them had imagined.

  ‘What do you think? Do I need to pull my men out?’

  Harvey shrugged. ‘That’s your call. It might have been a one-off, or it could all blow up overnight.’

  Gray quickly weighed up the options. With business so scarce at the moment, this wasn’t the time to overreact. Besides, they could handle themselves. Len might look more at home at a sales convention, with his receding hair, bushy moustache and a few extra pounds around the midriff, but he was a brilliant soldier. Truth be told, they all were. Sonny looked like a cheeky, twenty-something slacker, but he could hold his own with the best of them.

  The ones Gray was most concerned about were Carl Levine and Jeff Campbell. The pair were nondescript and looked somewhat similar, but Campbell had six inches and forty pounds on Levine. Both were the fighting equals of Sonny and Len—that wasn’t an issue. What worried Gray was that both were married, and Levine had the added duty of a teenage daughter to raise. He dreaded the thought of having to tell Anne and Sandra that their husbands would never be coming home—especially after having sent Levine on a low-risk, low-impact training job.

  ‘I’ll see what happens in the next couple of days,’ Gray said. ‘If it gets worse, I’ll bring them home.’

  Vick stuck her head through the door and beckoned them into the dining room, where a huge salmon en croute surrounded by seasonal vegetables took centre stage. Gray offered Harvey another beer but he declined.

  ‘Not when I’m driving. I might have a small glass of wine, though.’

  Gray did the honours and they tucked in, Harvey once again complimenting Vick on another delicious offering.

  ‘Any news from the doctor?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Gray told him. ‘I’m on my sixth different medication, but I’m not holding out much hope. I guess I’ll just have to live with it.’

  Thankfully, Mansour’s canisters hadn’t contained the virulent haemorrhagic fever that the authorities had been led to believe. If it had, or the dispersal location had been more densely populated, Gray and the other victims would have died quick, unpleasant deaths, and the disease might have spread rapidly, creating tens of thousands of other casualties. As it was, Gray and some seventy thousand other Londoners would only ever father female offspring. As for actual figures, new cases were still being reported, but sporadically at best. The government hadn’t come clean about the nature of the virus, except to assure the public that they faced no danger.

  That was at least true. The contagion’s only symptoms mimicked those of mild flu, and as long as no deaths were linked to the mini-outbreak, the health secretary would continue to spin it as an unseasonable influenza virus. The fathers of any newborn girls were still being asked for blood and semen samples to determine if they’d been affected, all under the pretence that it was a new screening test for genetic diseases.

  ‘How’s Melissa?’ Harvey asked.

  ‘She’s fine,’ Vick said. ‘She’s staying with my aunt and uncle this evening. They love having her over.’ She turned to Tom. ‘Speaking of which, Ken asked if you could pop round. He wants to have a word with you, something about security, he said.’

  Gray nodded. ‘I’ll drop by in the morning on my way to town.’

  ‘Actually, he wants you to go to his shop on Monday. He didn’t say why, but he wasn’t his normal self, and I get the feeling he didn’t want Aunt Mina to know.’

  Probably the local tearaways giving him grief, Gray thought. The location of the shop had its good points and bad points, and the proximity to the Handsworth estate was one of the latter. The security services he offered were different from Ken’s needs, so he made a note to call a friend and source a CCTV unit on the cheap. He might even suggest a Mosquito alarm. These devices emitted an unpleasant sound at a pressure level of up to a hundred decibels at a frequency of 17.4 kHz, and could only be heard by people under the age of twenty-five. It was designed to prevent youths congregating in a specific area, and though not illegal, there were several human rights groups calling for them to be banned.

  ‘Okay, I’ll go round and see him at lunch time.’

  ‘Is Melissa talking yet?’ Harvey asked.

  ‘That’ll be a few months away,’ Vick said, ‘but she did give us her first proper smile a few days ago. I wanted to video it, but I was in the middle of changing her nappy at the time.’

  They finished their meal, Harvey having a second helping.

  ‘I hope you don’t think I’m being greedy, but work usually keeps me in the office until late in the evening, which doesn’t leave much time for home cooking. That’s why I enjoy coming round here so much.’

  ‘Just the food?’ Gray asked.

  ‘No,’ Harvey said, trying to dig himself out of a hole. ‘The food’s just a pleasant addition to the wonderful company.’

  Vick smiled at his deft retrieval as she cleared away the plat
es and began the washing up, while the boys retired to the living room once more.

  ‘Has Boyd’s article affected work?’ Harvey asked.

  ‘Like you wouldn’t believe. Half of my big clients have disappeared, and I don’t think that’s the end of it.’

  Harvey’s face creased with concern. ‘You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?’

  Gray shook his head. ‘I made my bed, I’ve gotta lie in it. If it hadn’t been Boyd, it would have been another reporter.’

  Harvey gave him a look.

  ‘Look,’ Gray said. ‘I’m not going to hunt him down and skin him alive, if that’s what you’re thinking. I can’t say I’m chuffed that he wrote the story, but I’ve got no plans to go seeking retribution.’

  Despite Harvey’s fears, Gray wasn’t about to thrust himself back into the limelight.

  A yawn escaped and Harvey looked at his watch. ‘I’ve got to go, Tom. Thanks again for the meal. Vick’s a real catch, you lucky sod. You take care of her.’

  Gray stood and shook his hand. ‘Don’t worry, these girls are all I care about.’

  Harvey popped into the kitchen to say goodnight and Gray saw him to the front door, hitting the button to open the gate.

  ‘Maybe next time you bring a friend along, even if it’s a work colleague. I’m not sure Vick will fall for the excuses much longer.’

  Harvey smiled. ‘Will do, Tom. See you.’

  As Harvey drove out onto the road, Gray closed the gates and his thoughts turned back to his team in Malundi. He opened up his laptop and fired off a quick email to Len Smart before settling down in front of the TV for a late-night movie with his wife.

  Chapter Ten

  Saturday 5 October 2013

  By eleven in the morning, a crowd of nearly three thousand had gathered outside the president’s private residence in the Kingatan capital Molewe. Some carried hand-painted placards, but most just danced and chanted. A few government troops stood on the periphery, but as long as the demonstration remained peaceful, they seemed content to simply observe proceedings.

  The previous day, Obi’s men had travelled to the villages neighbouring the scene of the massacre to inform the residents of the attack. They told of the Agbi soldier who had been killed by one of the villagers and left behind by his men, and graphically recounted the scene they’d found that morning. Women and children raped and hacked to death, men emasculated so as to demonstrate the Agbi’s intention of destroying the Kanto lineage.

  ‘Your government sends fifty troops to the border to protect you from the Agbi invaders!’ Obi had told people in the surrounding villages again and again, ‘That is not enough! The president must act now and punish the murderers!’

  The line had been swallowed by everyone, and with each village they visited, the numbers of outraged followers swelled until fifteen hundred set out that morning. As they passed through the suburbs and into the city, the ranks grew as more and more people learned the details of the atrocity.

  The newspapers had mentioned the killings but hadn’t gone into specifics, so as rumours passed like a game of Chinese whispers through the ever-growing crowd, the mob’s anger mounted. With every passing minute, the chanting intensified, as did the number of protesters, until more than five thousand stood before the iron gates of the president’s house.

  A spokesman appeared from the mansion and walked down the drive to the throng, a sheet of paper in his hand. He gestured for silence and it took a few minutes before the noise died down enough for him to be heard.

  ‘The president has spoken with his counterpart in Malundi, and they are both shocked and saddened by Thursday’s events in Zamwetta. A full investigation is taking place and we hope to have further news tomorrow. When—’

  Obi’s men began the chanting once more, demanding direct action, and the rest of the crowd followed, drowning out the rest of the statement. The presidential aide tried to get the rest of the message across, but with the crowd being whipped up by strategically placed members of Obi’s forces, the deafening crescendo left him with no choice but to retreat inside.

  Obi himself was watching the protest from a building a quarter of a mile away, and through his binoculars he could see his men striking up conversations with the soldiers overseeing the demonstration. Kgosi had relayed the president’s comments via mobile phone; all seemed to be going to plan. While the leaders tried to find a diplomatic solution, Obi and his growing army would take control of the matter and force their way across the lightly protected border.

  Two of his people had been scouting the enemy for a few weeks now, and the map they’d drawn up showed every strategic target, from electrical power stations to army bases and the small airport that provided access to the international equivalents in neighbouring countries. With today’s developments, he fully expected a number of Malundi troops to be moved to positions close to the Kingata border. His spies would feed him information on their strength and locations. The initial assault would flank and eventually surround any such forces before finishing them off, leaving a relatively simple journey to the Malundi capital.

  He called Kgosi and reminded him to keep the crowd there for another two hours, all the time seeking out those of fighting age to help with the upcoming assault. After that, they would gradually disperse and all would return to normal for a couple of days.

  The calm before the storm, Obi thought, smiling as he prepared to return to the jungle.

  Chapter Eleven

  Monday 7 October 2013

  Tom Gray spent most of the day on damage-limitation duty, calling up his existing clients and seeking reassurances that they wouldn’t be moving on in light of the recent newspaper article.

  One was willing to bide its time, but warned that the company’s reputation was of paramount importance, and the first sign of customer dissent would mean cutting ties completely. Another thanked him for pre-empting their phone call and announced that the contract was terminated with immediate effect. It hurt but, having spoken to his solicitor over the weekend, Gray came armed and ready for exactly that kind of response.

  ‘If that’s your decision, I quite understand,’ Gray said. ‘I’ll expect the remainder of the contract to be paid in full within the next fifteen days.’

  ‘Mister Gray, I don’t think we’ll be—’

  ‘May I remind you that I personally visited your offices to sign that contract, and therefore you were fully aware at that time just exactly who you were dealing with. If you’re going to claim breach of contract now, you’d better have a damn good reason for it. Something other than my personal history. Your own assessments gave my men glowing scores, so you can’t use their misconduct as an excuse, either.’

  The phone went silent for a while and Gray hoped he’d hit home.

  ‘We’ll have our lawyers look into it.’

  ‘I think you should, because since we signed that contract, I have done nothing to harm the reputation of your company. Everything I did prior to that was in the public domain, so if you want to try to convince a judge that you didn’t know who I was, I wish you the best of luck.’

  As the business contact tried to respond, Gray continued. ‘I’ll have the outstanding figure couriered round to you this afternoon and I expect payment by the twenty-first. Otherwise, my solicitor will start legal proceedings and I’ll personally make sure the case gets all the media coverage possible.’

  Gray put the phone down and took a deep breath. Threatening clients wasn’t the ideal way to run a business, but hopefully they’d see sense and continue to use his services. It was either that, or pay him off and hire someone else, and bean counters didn’t like paying twice for anything.

  He prepared the invoice, all the while wondering how the clients he’d already lost would react once they received their final demand for payment from Amos Ryan. While part of him hoped they’d rethink their position, deep down he knew the damage had been done. Any payments he received would be used as severance pay for his men,
and hopefully that would give them a bit of breathing space until they found work at another agency.

  His phone calls continued throughout the day, with varying degrees of success, and it wasn’t until after four that he noticed the CCTV brochure on his desk and remembered the meeting with Ken. He’d promised to pop into the shop at lunchtime. That wouldn’t be possible now, but if he hurried he could make it before Vick’s uncle closed up for the day.

  The drive through rush-hour traffic took longer than he would have liked but he still managed to get to the shopping precinct before five. He parked in a side street and walked around the corner to Ken Hatcher’s shop, where four customers were waiting to be served.

  Gray waited until the last one left before wandering over to the till.

  ‘Sorry I’m late. I was swamped at work.’

  ‘No problem,’ Hatcher said, looking inordinately happy—even relieved—to see him. ‘Vick told me you’re having problems with your clients. I hope you’re getting it sorted out.’

  Gray gave him the condensed version of the last couple of weeks, though he tried to paint a positive picture.

  Ken nodded sympathetically and wished him luck.

  ‘Vick tells me you have some security issues yourself,’ Gray said, handing over the brochure. ‘I spoke to the owner of this company and can get you a fifty per cent discount on anything you need.’

  Ken’s face fell as he nodded again, then went on to recap his encounter with William Hart and son. He told Gray that he’d spoken to the neighbouring shop owners, one or two of whom had confirmed the arrangement.

  ‘Have you paid him anything?’ Gray asked.

  Hatcher shook his head. ‘No-one’s been back since.’

  It wasn’t a pleasant situation to be in, and the fact that it involved a family member angered Gray. He decided to get in touch with Andrew Harvey to see what information was available on the Hart family. He hit the speed-dial on his phone and was waiting for it to connect when Hatcher tapped him on the arm and looked towards the door.