Dance with the Enemy (The Enemy Series)

by Rob Sinclair

  ‘Thierry Djourou. And it wasn’t a very nice visit. Djourou has been shot. His kid brother is dead. So I think we can definitely say that John Burrows is a threat!’

  This was even worse than Johnny had imagined. For once, he had to hold his hands up: he’d messed up royally. John Burrows was going to pay for this.

  ‘What do you want me to do?’ Johnny asked. He knew there was no point in fighting this battle. He needed to make amends. It wasn’t just his job on the line here. If he got on the wrong side of Selim, it was his life.

  ‘Djourou is still at home,’ Reggie said. ‘I sent a doctor out to see to his shot leg. His brother was already a goner. The police don’t know anything about this yet. Gunshots at Clichy-sous-Bois don’t really get them too excited anymore. I want you to go over there and take care of Djourou.’

  ‘Take care of him? You mean, like the doctor?’

  ‘No, not like the fucking doctor! I mean take care of him, Johnny, you fucking retard.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Because he’s talked. He says he hasn’t but there’s no way Burrows would’ve just walked away from there unless he had what he needed. You know, you’re walking a very thin line here. I’m not sure how many cock-ups you think you’re entitled to, but the answer now is none. Do Djourou, then go back to the hotel. I’m sending Lorik out to the hotel as well. Meet him there afterwards. Got it?’

  ‘Lorik? That guy’s a nut job!’

  ‘Well, Burrows has brought it on himself. Are we on the same page now?’

  ‘Yeah. How do you want it done? Djourou, I mean.’

  ‘Just do it.’

  ‘Whatever you say.’

  ‘And Johnny. If you see Burrows, bring him to me. Alive. Selim’s pissed. I’m pissed. Burrows is not going to get off this one easily.’

  Reggie put the phone in his pocket. Johnny was just about on his last life. One more wrong move and he would have to cut that one loose.

  ‘Problems with the troops?’ said Selim, who was sitting on the beige sofa opposite Reggie. Richard Blakemore was sitting next to him.

  And fuck you too, Reggie thought. Selim might be a big cheese, but that didn’t mean he owned Reggie. And it certainly didn’t mean that Reggie had to like him. Still, Blakemore was paying Reggie two million dollars for this. With any luck, Selim would soon be out of his life. So he would just have to bite his lip and put up with this crap for a few more days.

  ‘No. No problems at all,’ Reggie said. ‘Nothing that can’t be sorted, at least.’

  ‘Well, let’s hope it does get sorted,’ Selim said. ‘Your men don’t seem to be doing too good a job so far.’

  Selim was smiling at Reggie as he spoke. It made the big man feel uneasy.

  ‘Johnny will sort it.’

  ‘The point of having someone followed is to make sure they don’t get in our way,’ Blakemore piped up.

  Blakemore was the man who had brought Reggie onto this job. He thought of himself as a businessman. By ‘business’ he basically meant anything that made him richer. The man had few morals. Reggie wasn’t bothered by that, though. It was more the man’s superior attitude that grated. To Reggie he was nothing more than a smarmy toff. The guy thought he was some sort of preppy model with his ridiculous clothes, rather than the pot-bellied forty-something that he really was. But he obviously had some talent in making money to be living the life he was.

  ‘It’s being taken care of,’ Reggie said.

  ‘Yes, well, it’s just a pity that it’s come to that,’ Blakemore said, shaking his head. ‘We’re not too pleased about Djourou, you know. He’s done some good work for me. And he was a good friend of Selim.’

  Reggie looked over at Selim, who was staring at him. He nodded at Blakemore’s words, then reached over to the coffee table to pick up his mug. Reggie doubted Selim fully understood the concept of friend. But the point had been made.

  Djourou might have been considered a friend, but it was clear that no-one in the room was disputing his fate. He had it coming. He’d talked, and that meant that he had to go. Those were the rules. Though the ease with which the conclusion to kill Djourou had been reached made Reggie all the more nervous. Reggie had been central to planning and carrying out the attack on Modena’s convoy. His military experience and training had been key. But what would it take for him to become just another loose end?

  He banished the thought. If it came to it, he knew he was a fighter.

  ‘Is it time for the show yet?’ Reggie said, hoping the conversation could now move on.

  Blakemore looked at his watch. ‘Ah, you’re right. ’Bout time too. I’ve been looking forward to this part. Where’s Mohammed gone?’

  ‘It’s not Mohammed,’ Selim said in a tone that was unusually terse for him. ‘It’s Mustafa.’

  ‘Fine, Mustafa. Get him in here and let’s get this show on the road.’

  ‘He’s already in the basement,’ Reggie said.

  Mustafa was a young guy that Selim had brought into the job. Initially Reggie had been unable to see the point in his involvement. Mustafa was barely out of his school years and didn’t really seem to add anything to the mix. But then, as time had gone on, Reggie had begun to see his use. In fact, his complete lack of physical threat was the main thing going for him. He was the only one who was getting Modena to talk at all.

  ‘Well, what are we waiting for then?’ Blakemore said. He stood up and pulled on his balaclava, then held his hand out in the shape of a gun and fired an imaginary shot at Reggie. ‘Gotcha,’ he said.

  What a twat, Reggie thought. He stood and picked his balaclava up off the table. Selim followed suit.

  The three men headed towards the basement door. As Reggie stepped through the doorway, he pulled the wool over his head and started down the steps.

  In the basement, Modena was on the chair, his head slumped. Mustafa was sitting next to him on the floor, talking.

  ‘You two look like you’re having fun,’ Reggie boomed.

  Modena looked up, terror in his eyes.

  Yes, you little bastard, it’s me again, Reggie thought.

  ‘So, Frank,’ he said, ‘how’re your acting skills?’

  Chapter 18

  The safe house had been empty when Logan arrived. Still lost in his thoughts about what had just happened to him, he’d simply sat down on the sofa in the lounge in silence. In contemplation. He wasn’t even aware of how long he’d sat there. Maybe as long as an hour. He should have called Mackie. But his mind was too busy, going around in circles, trying to determine what it was he needed to do to get his life back on track.

  Eventually Logan’s phone chirped in his pocket, breaking his trance. He picked it out and answered.

  ‘Logan, I’ve been wondering where you got to,’ Mackie said. ‘I tried calling you.’

  Logan hadn’t noticed any missed calls. ‘I’m at the safe house. I thought you would be here?’

  ‘I’m back in London,’ Mackie declared without elaboration. ‘Have you been to see Djourou?’

  Logan sat up on the sofa. He was surprised that Mackie hadn’t heard about the incident through his contacts. Maybe the police didn’t know about Djourou yet. That would probably be of some benefit, keeping them a step away from getting under Logan’s nose.

  ‘Yeah, I paid him a visit.’

  ‘And? Come on, the suspense is killing me. What have you got?’

  ‘Well, I’m pretty sure we’ve got one dead and one with a serious gunshot wound to the leg.’

  ‘Jesus, Logan,’ Mackie said. ‘Life’s never simple with you, is it?’

  ‘Never simple? At least I’m consistent,’ Logan said, laughing. Keep it up, he told himself. You may be an emotional wreck, but don’t let on to anyone else. ‘And I’m confident no-one saw me coming or going,’ he added, wanting to make it clear that his visit to Djourou hadn’t resulted in his adding unwanted heat on himself following the previous day’s exploits at the hospital.

  ‘Wait. Please don’t te
ll me you’ve gone and done Djourou?’ Mackie said.

  ‘Would it matter if I had? But no, it was one of his guards that I put down. Djourou will just have a bit of a limp from now on.’

  ‘Just tell me what happened.’

  ‘Well, Djourou’s certainly involved somehow. As soon as I mentioned Vincent’s name, his antennae went up. In fact, that very nearly got me killed.’

  ‘Did he tell you anything?’

  ‘A name: Richard Blakemore. A well-known client by all accounts. Oh, and Djourou said he was English. Nice to know we’re playing close to home.’

  ‘Richard Blakemore, hey?’ Mackie said.

  ‘Yep. Do you know him?’

  ‘No. I don’t think so. But we’ll check him out. If he’s anyone of interest, he’ll be on our radar one way or another.’

  ‘I also got the impression that Djourou is more than just your average passport counterfeiter. Judging by the level of security he had.’

  ‘Had being the operative word.’

  ‘I didn’t get a chance to see what else he was operating from there, though. I was only in his place for a few minutes. Is there anything we know about what else it could be?’

  ‘You tell me. If Djourou is as good as people say he is, then it wouldn’t surprise me at all if the security you saw was just for his ID business. People will pay top dollar for a good fake.’

  ‘Maybe so. But I’m even less convinced by the police’s theory now,’ Logan said.

  ‘What, just because you’ve got the name of one English guy?’ Mackie responded. ‘The terrorist link is still pretty strong if you ask me.’

  ‘I just think there’s more to this than meets the eye,’ Logan said, trying to keep hold of his irritation at Mackie summarily dismissing what he was saying. ‘And it’s not just one Englishman that’s in the mix here. It’s Blakemore plus Vincent, plus Djourou.’

  Logan got up from the sofa and moved over to the lounge window, which looked out onto the street. It was quiet outside, with just the odd car and pedestrian passing by. The view onto the road and the ramshackle buildings on the opposite side was anything but alluring, and Logan couldn’t help but think fleetingly of all the safe houses he’d been to over the years, nearly all of them in less than salubrious parts of the towns and cities in which they were located. As glamorous and thrilling as his secretive job may have seemed to young men and women on the outside world, he’d never himself bought into that false impression – it certainly didn’t really match the reality. His job was about doing a duty, carrying out orders, not living a fantasy life.

  ‘Did Djourou say anything about Selim?’

  ‘I didn’t really have time to stay around and ask too many questions. But it doesn’t matter anyway. With Blakemore’s name, we’ve got something to go on now.’

  ‘Unless Djourou sold you a stinker.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Logan said, offended. ‘You didn’t see the look in his eyes. Blakemore needs to be checked out.’

  ‘Fine. Check him out.’

  ‘How do you want to deal with Djourou? I just left him and his crew at his place.’

  ‘Not much more we can do. Sooner or later it’ll get called in to the police. We’ll let them deal with it. As far as I know the police haven’t yet made any link between Modena and Djourou, so we’re a step ahead of them.’

  ‘Are you going to tell them?’

  ‘I will do, but we can’t have them chasing the same leads as you. They’ll just get in your way and slow you down. I’ll pass on the Djourou information once we know if we’ve got anything to go on with Blakemore.’

  ‘I’ll get onto it now.’

  ‘Okay, keep me in the loop,’ Mackie said before ending the call.

  Logan immediately dialled the number for Laura Anderson at the JIA office in London. Laura was a mid-level administrator. Probably the best one the JIA had, as far as Logan was concerned – though he only knew a handful of the names and faces of the people at HQ. Although being a field agent may seem like the more desirable side of the intelligence business, they were somewhat segregated from everyone else. As a field agent, Logan didn’t even have access to the HQ building – his role essentially saw him move from safe house to safe house, hotel to hotel, always following the action.

  ‘Laura, its Carl. How are things?’

  Logan wasn’t one for idle chit chat – not with most people, at least. He made an exception for Laura. He’d never really figured why, other than the fact that she nearly always flirted with him.

  ‘Good, thanks,’ Laura said. ‘I heard your holiday got cut short. What a bummer.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  ‘Well, at least you didn’t have to spend too much time away from me.’

  ‘That is a bonus, I guess.’

  ‘Perhaps next time you should invite me. I’ve always wanted to go to Vegas.’

  ‘I’ll bear that in mind. I need to ask a favour.’

  ‘Ouch, that was a quick change of subject. One day you’ll take me up on my offers.’

  ‘One day,’ Logan said, well aware that both of them knew it was a lie.

  Logan gave Laura the threadbare information he had about Blakemore. As he was doing so, his phone began to vibrate in his hand. He took it away from his ear and saw there was another call waiting.

  ‘Carl, are you still there?’ Laura said.

  He let the call ring out. ‘Yeah, I’m still here,’ he said.

  But seconds later his phone was vibrating again.

  ‘Look, Laura, I’ve got to go,’ Logan said. ‘Call me as soon as you have anything at all on Blakemore.’

  ‘Will do, sweetie.’

  Logan couldn’t help but smile at her words as he hung up and answered the incoming call.

  It was Mackie again. And he didn’t sound happy.

  ‘We’ve had a development,’ Mackie said.

  Logan’s first reaction at hearing the words was one of positivity. But that quickly dissipated as Mackie carried on.

  ‘This might not be what you want to hear,’ Mackie said, ‘but I think the police’s theory is looking a little more solid now.’

  ‘What do you mean? Why?’

  ‘The kidnappers have made contact.’

  Chapter 19

  It didn’t take Logan long to find it. The kidnappers had posted the video on the internet. It was already going viral, being re-posted and commented on here, there and everywhere. TV and radio stations were playing it, reporting on it, and it would surely be all over the newspapers in the morning. Logan sat at the desk in the safe house office and watched the video on one of the laptops there. It brought back too many hard memories. At times he found himself close to tears, reliving in his mind what Modena was going through.

  In the video, four armed men brandishing assault rifles stood either side of the forlorn figure of Frank Modena. They were wearing black clothing that looked like army fatigues and had balaclavas covering their heads.

  Modena was kneeling on the ground, dressed in a bright orange jumpsuit. His hands were tied behind his back. He had almost certainly been beaten: his face was bloodied and swollen. With his clothes on, though, it was hard to tell the full extent of his injuries. Or what other kind of torture he’d had to endure.

  One of the armed men opened the video, speaking in Arabic. After that, Modena introduced himself. He stated his name, the name of his wife and where he came from. He spoke slowly, clearly and without any obvious impediment. That at least suggested his physical and mental state weren’t too far gone. But it wasn’t really possible to confirm that just from the video.

  Modena then proceeded with the demand of the kidnappers: for all Muslim prisoners of war held by the United States to be freed. He finished his address by stating that the kidnappers would kill him in three days if their demand was not met. After that, the video ended.

  Logan sat in silence for a good five minutes once the video had finished.

  ‘Jesus,’ was all he eventually said.


  He really didn’t know what to think now. The video certainly looked genuine enough. But surely the involvement of Vincent and Blakemore meant something?

  It wasn’t long before Logan’s phone was buzzing again. He picked it up and reluctantly answered.

  ‘So, where does this leave us?’ Mackie asked. ‘What does this mean for your theory that Modena’s kidnapping isn’t simply a terrorist plot?’

  Logan didn’t know. If the video was legitimate, this would be one hell of a coup for whichever terrorist cell was responsible. They had kidnapped a prominent American and were parading him on the internet. There was nothing in the video that hadn’t been done before with other victims, but the profile of Modena, and the fact he’d been taken not in a war-torn country but in Paris, made the nature of his disappearance all the more unique. And disturbing.

  But the kidnappers were making a demand that was outrageous. They must have known it wouldn’t be granted.

  ‘It’s just too obvious,’ Logan said after a few moments’ thought. Though he wasn’t really sure why he was so reluctant to buy the whole charade anymore. What he wanted most in the world was for all of this to lead him to Selim. He was desperate for his revenge. But regardless of Selim’s involvement, at the minute there were just too many elements which didn’t add up.

  ‘Meaning?’ Mackie said, prompting Logan, who was still trying to convince himself of his own words.

  ‘Meaning Islamic terrorists kidnapping a Westerner and parading him on the internet like that. It’s not exactly original, is it?’

  ‘That doesn’t mean it’s not true.’

  ‘No, but I still don’t like it,’ Logan said. ‘Why make such a stupid demand? They could have asked for ten million dollars. Twenty million. But no, they asked for something they won’t ever get. Why bother?’

  ‘I have to say,’ Mackie said, ‘as disturbing as that video is, I agree with you. Why bother making a demand at all? They could have just killed him straight off and made that their video. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time a kidnapping by an extremist cell has ended that way.’