by Alex Shaw
Filler sighed. ‘You said you might be staying at a place called Wide Waters.’
‘I said Broadwaters, and we did.’
Filler nodded. Tudor had given him the wrong name but it made no difference now. ‘I see.’
‘It’s a little place Janet found on the internet, with a wilderness bike trail.’
Filler was annoyed but showing it would make no difference, and now there were far larger issues. ‘We couldn’t contact you.’
‘Ah, well I forgot my phone charger. Look I did try to call this morning. My sat phone was in the Range Rover and then that wouldn’t switch on and the damn car wouldn’t start. Janet, of course, blamed me and refused to come. She stayed at the guesthouse.’
‘Anthony, I have something to tell you. You should sit down.’
‘Whatever it is tell me now. Unless you are going to say that you’ve got one of our secretaries pregnant?’ Tudor beamed.
Filler didn’t. ‘Dudley Smith is dead.’
Tudor stumbled, grabbed at the back of his chair and sat. Momentarily unable to find his voice, his mouth wobbled wordlessly. Finally he asked ‘How?’
‘The police believe he was assassinated.’ Filler briefed Tudor on events thus far, including Chang’s information regarding the Russians and Li Tam.
Tudor raised his arms expansively. ‘So all of this is an attack by the Russians?’
‘That’s the current assessment.’
‘Dudley was one of my closest friends. I’d known the family for years, and we were at school together. This is devastating, utterly devastating – on both a personal and a political level. World wars have started for less.’
‘Let us hope it won’t get that far. The police have no hard evidence that it was the Russians.’
‘And of course now that all the electronics have failed, we may never have that concrete proof.’ Tudor paused, rubbed his ruddy face with his hands. ‘Do we have any means at all of communicating with home?’
‘Not as far as I can tell.’
‘So we can’t implement our Critical Incident Plan?’
‘I informed Whitehall late last night of Dudley’s murder, but with time differences little was achieved in the five hours before the power went out. I imagined some frantic phone calls were going to be made and that someone was to be sent over here but …’ He shrugged.
Tudor shook his head. ‘If the phones don’t work, how do we call everyone in? Do we mount bullhorns on bicycles?’
‘I’m not an expert on bikes,’ Filler mumbled humourlessly.
‘Are any of our embassy vehicles operational?’
‘None of those on-site will start. I can’t vouch for any others. I would imagine that if they were operational, their users would be here already.’
‘Where is our resident spook?’ Tudor asked. ‘He drives a Land Rover Defender – they’re meant to be indestructible!’
‘Simon hasn’t made it in yet.’
‘But he lives the nearest of us all to the embassy.’
‘That’s true.’
‘I feel we need to discuss the Destruction Plan. How long would it take to complete?’
Filler mulled over the situation. The Destruction Plan was the last resort for any diplomatic outpost and, in short, was a schedule for destroying sensitive material. It was hour-based, meaning that the most sensitive documents and drives were destroyed in the first hour, and then the rest on an ever-decreasing level of importance. ‘Without a shredder or the ability to power up the incinerator, we’d have to look at building a bonfire of sorts in the courtyard. I doubt that would destroy the data on our fireproofed military-spec thumb drives and hard drives.’
Tudor closed his eyes and sighed heavily. ‘Have all staff that are present start filling burn-bags. I’ll make a decision on this later. Did you say this Chang person and his charge are in the conference room?’
‘Yes.’
‘That then is where we shall go. It’ll be a damn sight cooler than in here, with those big windows to open.’
‘Of course.’
‘You first. I’ll be there in a moment.’ Tudor watched his friend and colleague leave the room. As soon as he was on his own, he slumped back in his chair, engulfed in a wave of sorrow. He closed his eyes and took a deep cleansing breath – as his wife had taken to calling it. He had to rationalise his emotions. He was the diplomatic representative for his Queen and could not be seen to, in any way, appear weak but …
Filler shot a glance out of the window. On the road outside he saw an SUV moving. Did the suspected EMP only affect some vehicles and not others? It was something they would have to discuss further; perhaps the embassy could even purchase or commandeer the necessary vehicles to evacuate. The Evacuation Plan called for staff to be taken directly to Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport, which was less than a half-hour away, where they would be collected by a commandeered British Airways or a Virgin Atlantic Boeing.
Tudor left his office and descended the stairs. He saw Filler speaking with Karen at the front desk. He waited and Filler joined him at the threshold to the conference room.
‘Shall we?’ Tudor rapped his knuckles on the door in a perfunctory manner and entered. He saw two men. One sat with his head bowed while the other stood, leaning against the windowsill. Tudor addressed the man at the window without the handcuffs. ‘Detective Chang, I’m sorry we had to meet under such circumstances.’
‘Thank you, Ambassador.’
‘And you, I presume, are Mr Tam?’
Li Tam stared deep into the ambassador’s eyes. The Englishman blinked. Tam made no effort to reply.
‘He is,’ Chang clarified.
‘Let us as least be civilised.’ Tudor sat and gestured for Chang to join him.
‘I’m happy to see that you have returned safely, Ambassador. We thought you’d perhaps been kidnapped or worse.’
‘Enough about me; what happened to Dudley? Eric has explained your theory to me.’ Tudor shifted his gaze from Chang to Tam. ‘Did you have a hand in the murder of my friend?’
Tam remained silent.
‘Answer me, damn it!’
‘No, I did not. It was the Russians.’
Tudor and Filler exchanged glances. ‘Moscow murdered the British Military Attaché?’
‘Yes.’
Chang cleared his throat. ‘What was your involvement?’
‘I was their taxi driver.’
‘You’re starting that nonsense again?’
‘I was their taxi driver. I was tasked with moving their men across the city.’
‘Where to?’ Tudor asked.
‘The airport.’
‘Which airport?’ Chang snapped.
‘I told you before, College Park.’
‘Who gave you orders?’
‘A man I never met. He was Russian.’
‘If you never met him, how did you know he was Russian?’ Filler now joined the questioning.
‘I met his men – they were Russian.’
‘Whoa.’ Chang held up his hand. ‘Men? How many are we talking about here?’
‘I saw two,’ Tam replied.
Tudor thought the man was lying, but carried on. ‘Detective Chang, does your department still have a police sketch artist?’
‘No, Ambassador, it’s all done by computers nowadays.’
Tudor got to his feet; he needed some air. He stalked to the south-facing window and pushed it wide open. The thick, bulletproof pane glided easily on its well-oiled hinge; being on the ground floor, there was no safety bar preventing it from doing so. The sky was a vivid blue and snow-white clouds floated high above. Tudor took a moment to gather his thoughts. What was happening around him in diplomatic terms was an “end of days” scenario. He was not going to be beaten by the Chinese, the Russians or whoever was behind this. Now resolute, he took a deep breath before turning back to face the others. ‘Now listen to me, Mr Tam, you are damn well going to tell—’
There was a thud, a single round, sup
pressed. Anthony Tudor, the British Ambassador to the United States of America, sailed forward and landed face first on the floor, his head a bloody mess.
*
Chang dived to the floor, taking Filler with him. There was a blur in his peripheral vision, a sudden movement. Li Tam was on his feet and making for the open door. Chang scrabbled onto his side, reaching for his Washington-PD-issued Glock and raised it at the disappearing spy. Chang shouted a warning and pulled the trigger at the same time. ‘Stop!’
The retort, flight, and impact of the round happened too quickly to be differentiated by the human eye. It was a single action, instantaneous. It caught Li Tam midstride, lifting him clean off his feet and pinning him against the wall. He slid down, leaving a bloody trail.
Crabbing across the floor, Chang pressed the Glock into Tam’s temple. Hissing, his voice sounding distant after the Glock’s roaring retort, he said, ‘Move again and I’ll put a slug in your skull.’
‘They killed him …’ Filler’s voice trailed off as his eyes remained fixed on Tudor’s lifeless body.
‘Stay down!’ Chang ordered as he darted to the window, giving Ambassador Tudor’s corpse a cursory glance. There was no point checking for a pulse; half the skull was missing. Chang took a deep breath and inched his head above the windowsill. Outside, across the deserted parking lot, he saw a black SUV smoothly driving away on the all-but-silent street. A tinny trilling sound made him duck, made him flinch … The sat phone. Chang reached the table and lifted the handset. ‘Yes?’
‘Where are you?’ The Russian-accented voice again.
Chang chanced a reply. ‘I’m parked opposite the British Embassy.’
‘You did not report the ambassador had arrived!’
Chang thought quickly; this was proof positive that the Russians were behind both assassinations. ‘I did not see him arrive.’
‘Were you asleep – is that it?’ The voice sounded incredulous. ‘In any case, he has been taken care of.’ There was a long pause. Chang could hear a muffled conversation in what sounded to him like Russian and then the voice spoke to him again. ‘You have new orders. Go to Location Three. We need a taxi.’
‘Understood.’ The line went dead.
‘I … I can’t believe this …’ Filler was now on his feet but bracing himself against the wall with his left hand. He started to talk quickly, to himself. ‘I bloody told him the windows were bulletproof for a reason, that he shouldn’t open them, but oh no Anthony Tudor always knew best, told me to stop being an old woman. I should have insisted; I should have stopped him …’
‘Filler!’
‘What?’ The diplomat looked up, his eyes wide.
‘Do you have a secure area, like a panic room or a bunker?’
He frowned before he answered, as if momentarily not understanding the question. ‘In the basement.’
‘Get everyone there, now!’
‘But … but, Anthony? We can’t just leave him here!’
‘He’s dead; he can’t get any deader.’
Without warning, Filler lunged at Tam. He grabbed the much smaller man by the lapels and heaved him up and off the floor. Arterial blood sprayed from Tam’s leg, across both Filler and the meeting room. ‘Tell me who did this, you bastard! Who shot my friend?’ Tam’s head lolled, his face ashen and his cream chinos turning scarlet. Filler shook him. ‘Answer me, you little shit!’
‘Back off!’ Chang pushed the diplomat away and took hold of Tam, aware that he was losing him. ‘Where is Location Three?’
‘Washington …’ His eyes were glassy, his face waxen.
‘Where is it?’
‘Fuc …’ Tam’s eyes rolled up and back.
‘Tam! Tam! Stay with me!’ Chang placed him back on the floor and grabbed his thigh, desperately trying to stem the blood loss.
A faint smile bent Tam’s lips before his body went limp.
‘He’s dead?’ Filler tried to control his breathing.
‘Yes.’ Chang raised his fist to punch the wall but thought better of it. His single round had clipped the femoral artery. He had killed his only lead. Chang started to shake. ‘He bled out.’
‘Good.’
Chang screwed his eyes shut. He was on duty. He’d lose his badge over this; he had killed an unarmed suspect. He was looking at jail time. Panic constricted his chest. ‘I had no choice, he was running away. I had to stop him.’
Filler took a deep breath, regained his composure. ‘We both believed he had a handgun, didn’t we? We had no choice.’
Chang looked at the diplomat who was nodding. Chang took a deep breath. ‘I agree with you – we had no choice.’
The room with the two men and two warm corpses became quiet.
‘Who was on the phone?’ Filler asked.
‘His Russian handler.’
‘The Russians did all of this.’ It was a statement, not a question.
Chang tried to regain control. ‘Eric, get your staff in the basement. There’s nothing else you can do until we know it is safe outside.’
Chang could see Filler was at a loss. His friend was dead and they were cut off, under attack. Unlike their American counterparts, the British diplomatic mission did not have an armed corps of Marines guarding the embassy. The British had locally contracted private security guards, and as far as he was aware, only one of them had made it to the embassy. Was there any sense in local staff remaining on duty when the fate of their loved ones outside was unknown? Chang imagined they were not part of the evacuation plan; they would be left behind. No, he’d tell Filler to get everyone into the basement then decide what further action to take.
‘How deep does an EMP reach?’ Filler asked.
Chang shrugged. ‘No idea. Why?’
‘We have a secure cell in the basement, we call it “the bubble”. I don’t know if its air-conditioning system will be operating. It has a backup server … and I believe a set of secure sat phones.’
‘Now you remember this? Really?’ Chang shook his head slowly. ‘Did no one check this earlier?’
‘No.’ A look of embarrassment washed over Filler’s face. ‘Gareth Moore is the IT wiz. I never really paid much attention to that side of things. He’s on holiday and Simon Hunter has the spare key, but we could break the lock.’
‘OK.’ Chang studied Li Tam’s sat phone. ‘I should be able to get the number of this up somehow. There it is, I think. Write this down.’
Filler took a pen and a legal pad from the conference table as Chang relayed the number to him. There was a shriek behind them. Both men turned to see Karen standing with her hands held to her face and her eyes darting between the two corpses.
Filler stepped forward and put his arms around her. ‘Karen, Anthony is dead and so is Mr Tam. We have been attacked. I need you to round up the rest of the staff and get into the bubble. Understood?’
Karen remained silent, her eyes fixed on the carnage.
‘Karen!’ Filler shook her by the shoulders. ‘Do you understand?’
‘Yes … but …’
‘But what?’
‘Simon has the key.’
‘Take the fire axe and break it open.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, you or anyone else who can lift the axe. We just need it opened. Understood?’
‘Yes.’
Chang watched her leave. He rubbed his face. ‘So what do I do?’
‘What do you mean?’ Filler asked.
Chang shrugged, an action that usually didn’t inspire confidence in law enforcement officers. ‘I can’t call this in, and even if I could, the department and the coroner can’t get here. For all I know, I may be the only mobile police officer in DC. Meanwhile, the Russians are running amok …’ Chang needed a drink. Bourbon, neat. He’d been fooling himself to think he wasn’t addicted. His ex-wife had known this even if he disagreed. But here he was, one week dry and making life-and-death decisions. And he’d just killed an unarmed man … a husband and father.
‘Chang
… Chang!’ Filler snapped his fingers. ‘You must go after the Russians!’
Chang agreed. He had to see this through to the end, even if it meant the end of him and his police career. ‘The Russians are expecting Tam to drive to somewhere they call “Location Three”.’
‘Have you checked his sat nav?’
‘His what?’
‘His GPS. Don’t all taxi drivers use those here now?’
‘The lazy ones do. But …’
‘But what, man – spit it out?’
‘That doesn’t sound like a very secure way of storing secret locations!’
‘Does it need to be? It’s hiding the information in plain sight – like a safe behind a mirror. Have you got any other suggestions?’
‘No,’ Chang agreed. ‘And as his car and sat phone are in working order, we can expect that his GPS also has been unaffected … but I’m not Tam. They will be expecting him not me.’
‘Tam’s Russian handler didn’t notice it wasn’t Tam speaking when you answered. Perhaps they have several drivers, perhaps the people you are going to meet haven’t met Tam?’
‘That’s a lot of perhaps.’
‘Perhaps,’ Filler said, with a thin smile. ‘What else can we do?’
Run away, Chang thought. ‘Nothing.’
Chang extended his right hand and shook Filler’s. ‘I’m sorry about the ambassador.’
Filler’s eyes were moist but his voice was firm. ‘Find them, make them pay.’
‘I will,’ Chang replied noting that Filler had not said “bring them to justice”.
Chapter 16
Camden Hills Park, Maine
Tate pulled the Mini over at the side of the road, next to a pair of hikers.
‘Good morning, folks.’ Donoghue addressed them with a smile. ‘You wouldn’t have happened to see a black Chevy SUV on your travels this morning?’
‘Yes, Officer,’ the husband said, ‘it was just inside the park back there.’
‘Was anyone with the vehicle?’
‘One guy, he sounded foreign.’
The wife glanced at her husband. ‘I told you he was up to no good.’
‘Thank you, folks, you’ve been very helpful.’
Donoghue nodded and Tate pulled away.
‘It makes sense,’ Tate said. ‘It has to be an ERV. He’ll wait for the rest of his team and then bug out.’
